i said yes!

did I have you hooked?  Probably ... bc most of those who see this or read it know, in fact, that the connotation to that title has nothing to do with me being engaged, or even having a relationship for that matter.

I figured I may as well write since I have been avoiding it for a very long time now.  writing is in my blood.  I don't even know why I'm writing.  the last time I wrote, I shared about how I experienced somewhat of a dream being lost.  I took the leap and applied and interviewed (twice) for a graphic design job.  and I wasn't chosen.

most of you know now, I work at Keller Williams -- the largest real estate company -- in the WORLD.  The current agent count is at 179,000+ -- and counting.

No.  I am not becoming a real estate agent.  I will stick to my Fixer Upper reruns on HGTV.  But, I can say that the position I was hired in for is not the position I am now doing.  I am in my 8th week and time has flown by so extremely fast.  I didn't have time to think.  By my second day, I was already moved to a new spot ... in the back ... in an office ... where numbers are king and agents run to drop off their commission checks on their closings.

I was scared to death.  but I said yes.

I frivolously took notes as I watched the mouse on the screen move from window to window, from spreadsheet to spreadsheet.  I hated numbers.  I hated math.  bc math ... is ALWAYS right.  so when you're wrong ... there's no way out of it.  you're wrong.  and the numbers are always right.

who the hell likes to be wrong?  especially when you're, literally, dealing with thousands of dollars every single day.  Decimal point here, comma there, deductions over here.

I was so unsure.  but I said yes.

2 weeks into my new job, I was starting to wonder what would come of this accounting thing.  Because there was a sliver of me that actually enjoyed punching in numbers, seeing those numbers auto populate, and paper clipping together a stack of documents to close out a commission check for an agent.

I have about a 40 minute drive each way to and from work.  On the way there, it's usually saturated in prayers, country music, and Taylor Swift.  Amen.  I still didn't know really what to expect or if I was even good enough to do what I was being taught to do.  but I kept saying yes.  I learned in a very unhealthy way that holding on does nothing but hold you back.  After that second week, I was about to say yes to something else fairly huge in my life - moving out.

it all happened so fast, so seamless.  by the beginning of my 3rd week at my new job, I was getting ready to pack up and move out of my house really for the first time.  I graduated high school and moved to NY to go to Bible school back in 2005, but I always knew after each year, I'd be going home for the summer.  So this was my first time really going for it.  I knew I needed to keep saying yes because I would have found every excuse to stay put.

I was scared to death.  but I said yes.

I gutted my old room in the basement of my parents' house, trashed things I wouldn't ever use or wear, read through decades old journals, hauled up my mattress and dresser and tv and was ready or not.  I can still feel the daunting task of packing looming over me as I reflect on late nights of going through dusty drawers, old journals and little knick knacks I found.  day turned to night, then turned to early morning again and I went to bed, wondering what the hell I was doing.

I had to let go of what I thought life would be like in my 30's.  I guess I just always thought that I would live at home until I met Mr. "Erica's better half" ... clearly we are battin' a thousand on that one  (insert infamous eye roll here).

I didn't even sleep in the apartment for over a week after we had it ... because I just wasn't ready.  I didn't want to wake up in a new place.  I didn't want to wake up and get ready in a bathroom that wasn't the one I used for the last 16 years.  I didn't want to park in a parking spot in front of a big building.  I wanted to park in a driveway.  the one I have parked in for the last 16 years.  I wanted to hear the back and forth of little feet on hardwood as I woke up in my bed.

I didn't want to leave. I didn't want to wake up without seeing 2 beautiful blue-eyed miracle boys every morning.  but I said yes.

There are nights I am driving home from work, holding back tears as I drive passed my old house.  Telling myself, "you can do it, you can move on, you can have this life."  I don't want to falsely convey that I am in any way ungrateful or regretful about the things that have transpired in my life lately.  Quite the contrary.  There probably hasn't been a day that has gone by that I haven't told Jesus that I am thankful for all the things He has opened for me.  And that I will keep saying yes in the face of fear.

Living on my own has inconveniently opened my eyes to see how much I miss the things I used to be comfortable with.  It begs and bickers with me to live in the loneliness I suddenly feel.  All this on the heels of a holiday we will celebrate called ... 'Mother's Day'

Out of all of them, it's the one that leaves the sour taste of disappointment and emptiness ... from the moment I wake up and talk myself into going to church, until I get to close my eyes that night and feverishly move onto Monday.  I don't like going to church on Mother's Day.  It will forever be on a Sunday.  So it is hard to avoid.  I remember celebrating Mothers Day with my grandma who passed away from cancer, her last one.  I remember the one the year after that.  I skipped church.  It's not that I dislike honoring Mothers ... it's that I thought I would have been one by now.

I love how my church showers the mothers there.  There is enough love to go around a few times for each of them.  But I fight like hell to not let it be a reminder of what I am not.  Of course I am a "mom" role model for the kids I get to teach and lead, a role model to my friends' kids, an aunt to my favorite boys.  But it will never be the same.

In the face of all that I think I should be by now, in the face of all I think has been lost, and in the face of where I think I should be with my life ... I'll keep saying yes.

I hope you don't read this ...

... just kidding.
I hope you do.  obviously the title I chose ... made you WANT to read it, right?  Maybe even just a little bit?  possibly?  Anyway.  I wanted to share again, a little deeper, about the link that I posted and shared last night.  The Apple commercial.  Yea, that one.  The one about a young woman who is creative, but is so critical of herself, that every time she prints something off, she scowls at it and tucks it into a box and hides it away.  until one day, her trusty dog nudges open her apartment window, allowing her designs to blow out into the night.  she chases after them, because she doesn't want anyone to see them.

lets back up.

you want to know the chain of thoughts that went through my head (isn't that what blogging is all about anyway?) when this commercial first came on?  I was sitting on the couch, only half able to see the tv because our tree is up and lit.  Landon was playing on the floor and I was about to join him.  we were watching Santa Claus Is Coming To Town.  you know, the one with the red headed Santa?  he falls in love with a blonde school teacher named Miss Jessica?  That one.  cut to commercial.  The young woman actually caught my attention as the commercial played.  I paid more attention to the commercial than I did the rest of the classic cartoon.  it really hit me.  hard.  the young woman even resembled me a little bit.  Dark, curly brown hair, freckles.  The same scowl when I design something that I think looks like a disaster.  her desire to hide.  I was immediately hooked.  and then, the arrow into my heart ... the song that played in the background, I'd never heard it before.  the lyrics said, "don't hide ..."  which is something I have mastered.

the commercial continued to unfold, and I held back tears the whole time, because other people were in the room, and would absolutely wonder why the hell I was crying at a commercial.  I searched it on YouTube when I was alone and let myself feel the entirety of the message that Apple was sharing.  I cried some tears.  You'll be able to view the full commercial below.  It is fantastic.  I am going to download the song too.  It's by Billie Eilish called "Come Out and Play"

See what some do not know, is that I took a leap.  I decided I would share the creativity I've kept to myself.  almost 8 weeks ago, a job posting came up.  it was for a marketing assistant.  I had been looking for a new job since the beginning of September.  I finally got to the point where I realized, I haven't loved any job ive ever had.  and it's because I have always hidden myself.  I haven't wanted to feel the pain of rejection, especially as it pertains to something that ive created.  remember as a kid, when you would make your project at school and you would be SO excited to give it to mom or dad? and you were so stinking proud of it?  when you create something, it's from your heart.  imagine the pain of having something rejected that came from your heart.  how much would that hurt?  a lot.

So for years, I have kept myself hidden behind things that I KNOW I can do and people approve of those things.  I can teach.  I am good with kids.  Im somewhat intelligent.  I write on my blog sometimes.  I can take really good care of people.  I'm really good at letting myself be needed.  But I've run out of pretending.  My cup is dry.  I decided at the ripe old age of 32, I wanted to do what I wanted to do.  I wanted to have a career in design.  with no schooling, a bunch of self-taught technology and software programs and years of practice and experience.

So I updated my resume that incidentally was toast when my computer decided to not work, after I decided I was going to go for my dream of a design job.  it was actually quite comically heartbreaking.  anyway ... I decided I was gonna go for this position.  I began printing out a portfolio of some of my personal favorite designs and put them in pages in a binder.  mailed my cover letter and resume and had to wait for the entire month of October until the job posting closed.

I was really feeling like this was it.  I was excited ... but not too excited because what if it didn't work out?  fast forward through October to November 2, a Friday.  I had just gotten home from work and was vegging after a long stressful week of kids and halloween and late nights.  I was watching FRIENDS.  (Phoebe is my favorite). The phone rang, it said City of Port Huron.  an interview request.  I was so excited after I hung up that I screamed "wooooo!!!" from downstairs and my dad came running down bc he thought something was wrong.

I had 4 days to prepare, I researched FAQ for interviews, specific to my profession I was going for.  I took notes, read them over, practiced on my drive to and from work for 4 straight days.  I walked into that interview the most confident I have ever felt in my life about anything challenging in front of me.

I NAILED that interview.  it was perfect.  I shocked myself.  I walked outa there and was like, "yea, I got it.  there's no way they'll say no."  I had to wait until Friday bc they had interviews all that week.  I still felt mega confident.  Friday came,  I wasn't chosen.  But I was invited back for a second round, bc she had so many good applicants.  Monday at 3pm I was to show up at the office and had to complete 5 different design assignments in 2 hours.  Mind you ... I usually need 2 hours for one assignment to really sink my teeth into it, design a couple things that I hate and THEN the money design comes out.

I designed my little heart out.  It was a ton of fun.  I was proud of them.  I was sure.  I had to wait another week to find out.  That Friday I was running through the drive thru at Panera for lunch after work.  I pulled out my phone (which for 3 months has doubled as my speedometer) and perused my email while I was waiting.  I saw an email from the city of Port Huron.  I didn't even have to open it because I knew ... what company emails you and offers you a position?  None im sure.  I paid for my food, drove to the secluded area of the Target parking lost across the way, opened up the email, read that I wasn't chosen and cried my eyes out.  For 45 minutes, I sat in my warm, running truck crying and praying and ashamedly letting people who knew i was waiting for this fateful call, that I didn't get it.  each text and email felt like a hard punch in the gut.

I had shared my heart, my design abilities, something ive kept hidden and to myself and the pain of rejection felt personal.  In the email I received back, I was told "even though you were not selected for this position, your interview was the warmest we've had in a long time and your credentials and designs were impressive, you're very good .... " etc etc etc but not why I wasn't chosen.

In that moment, I uttered out a prayer that I could barely even understand.  I thanked God for the door that was just slammed shut.  and asked him to open the next one.  so here I am ... 10 days after that slammed door, wondering what to do next.

This apple commercial inspired me to keep believing that God created me with abilities unique only to me.  and that I deserve to go after something like a career in design.  ive continued to search every day since that disgusting Friday afternoon.  Not finding anything that isn't more than an hour drive away and requiring some kind of bachelors in design.  I don't know.  my palms are up because He's the one who told me to move.  I'm trusting he is making my paths straight, bc he promised he would.

I hope you enjoy this commercial like I did.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3dJCroCMBPM
 

dear future husband,

going back to the archives for this post.  I originally wrote this in my last journal.  it is dated September 19, 2016.  two years ago, I decided to write a letter, to some guy, that I don't even know, that only God knows about.  I rarely post anything from my personal journal, unless I really think I should share it.  and when I started this blogging journey when I was in my early 20s ... now in my early 30s, my aim has always been the same ... bring hope and encouragement to those that choose to read.  to let them know, you're not alone on this journey.  maybe this will encourage someone.  I don't know.  it's one of my shortest posts, enjoy .... "Dear Future Husband ..."


I have waited my whole life for you.  I haven't always waited patiently, but here I am.  I've re-examined my life many times, thinking I must be the ONLY girl on the planet who didn't know what a first kiss felt like.  The way I would imagine my stomach fill with butterflies at the sound of my name from a significant other.  Or the warm happiness that I'd feel when you would hold my hand and hug me tight.  I was always so sad when I realized none of those things happened for me.  But now, as I am moving into the decade of 30! I can see, that God wasn't withholding any good thing from me.  He was keeping me in hiding for when you would come along.  At just the right time.  The only man to know every area of my heart.  The only man I'd ever fall madly in love with.  The only man to have ALL of who I am.  I'm so glad God had me wait for you.  I can't wait to share my story with others and have the great opportunity to say "There was only one."  I've loved you and prayed for you ... sometimes with tears, sometimes with great joy.  I can't wait to meet you.  And let you have ALL of my firsts.

Love,

Dear Future Wife

ice cream flavors and God's favors

isn't that a pretty cool title?? I bet you are wondering what one has to do with the other, and well, they don't go together at all.  and this post really has nothing to do with that title.  But someone will know what it means.  she thinks i should write a book.

but for now, I'm just going to write here.  the last time i blogged, it was december.  7 months ago.  i shared about how life was hard.  that i was coming off some medication for depression and anxiety.  i shared that the effects of weaning off the medication was worse than the reason why i went on the medication to begin with.

When i wrote my very first blog post over 10 years ago now, (omg, i'll be 32 in three months) i shared that my intention in even starting a blog was to give hope to someone.  anyone.  maybe someone who has just had a bad day, maybe someone who wanted to give up hope completely, or maybe someone who just wanted to hear about another human being, trying to figure out and live out grace, truth, love, heartache, pain, and trust ... and a lot of other things.  you're not alone.  and in order to encourage someone in their journey of "you're not alone" you have to be willing to get honest.  grossly, raw, tearing pain honest.  So, I am.

i believe in Jesus.  some days i trust him, other days ... i trust him not so much.  and other other days i am wondering how to trust in a being i cannot see.  i love Jesus.  some days, i love him a lot.  other days, i forget how to love him.  and other other days ... i can't even love myself.

I have been off anxiety and depression medication now for almost a year.  i have lived and walked through the hardest, most gut-wrenching 2 and a half years of my life.  *brutal honesty coming up*
for the past 10 months, i have been bleeding.  there were days when i would wake up with hope, that "maybe today is the day that i won't be bleeding."  it never happened.  for 10 straight months, constantly bleeding.  i would go to work every day, praying that no one would find out, as in, that i wouldn't bleed through my clothes.  for 10 months, i went swimming twice a week with my preschool class, praying and hoping that everything would ... 'stay in tact'.  the only thing i could link it to was the medication that i had weaned off from.  the very week that i started tapering off the meds, things became irregular.  it was a rare side effect.

things at work were a little out of sorts as well.  lots of turnover, a public investigation into the program, program changes and i was working a split shift that essentially took over my life.  I would wake up for work at 630am and not be able to relax and come home until 630 at night.  i would be exhausted, still bleeding and 2 hours later, fall into bed for it to start all over again the next day.

can i tell you, most days it was sheer grit to not ever give up.  there were nights when i would fall into bed and cry myself to sleep, begging God to take me in my sleep because i would rather be with him in heaven than go through another day of constant bleeding.  some nights as i would lay in bed, trying to focus on truth, i was thinking about Landon.  My nephew.  i want to be around to see him grow up because after all, i actually do have a big part in his life.  i am helping raise him.  i see him everyday.  i change diapers, i feed and change him, give him baths, hug him, make him laugh.  his smile is what i could close my eyes and see when i was wondering when this bleeding would stop.  some mornings when i woke up, it was the desire to see him that let me know i could get up and fight through another day.

things at work very slowly moved along.  i had been patient long enough and even considered finding a new job opportunity.  I waited for over 3 months for a schedule to be worked out so that i could end the dreaded split shift.  it finally happened.  i had done some more research on the bleeding aspect and began taking a new approach with some different supplements.  The week that my schedule was finalized, i began to feel a weight lift and the bleeding began to slow.  i stayed on top of the supplements and stayed patient for the next part of my work situation to open up; moving into the classroom that i was originally hired to work in, 2.5 years ago.

can i tell you also ... during this transition of unknown, my sister had her second baby 3 months premature, just like Landon and the night before that, my dog of 16 years died while i was at work, covering a shift that i hadn't agreed to.  My family was all at home, waiting for me to show up for lunch, like i always do, before they took my dog to the vet to be cremated.  i never showed up bc of the shift i was covering and i found out via text 6 hours later that he had already been cremated and we would get his ashes in a week.  i was sitting in my vehicle down by the water, waiting for a meeting to start that i was supposed to be at.  i cried the hardest i had cried in a very long time.  sweat and tears rolled off my face.  i skipped the meeting and went home and cried the rest of the night.

i was up most of the night looking through my pictures of Stu, my best little pal, crying more tears.  I laid in bed awake at 330am, May 31.  wondering how i was supposed to get up for work in 3 hours and do my best to leave my broken heart at the door knowing that when i got home, my dog wouldn't be there to greet me ... not ever again.  I saw a light turn on upstairs, and heavy, fast footsteps bounding down the stairs.  it was my dad.  he said, as i was laying there with my phone full of pictures next to my head, "Erica, Angela is having the baby.  She is in labor right now."  i flew out of bed, ran upstairs, grabbed my shoes and me and mom drove to the hospital.  my dad stayed home with Landon.  Ezekiel James was born at 4:05am, 35 minutes later and was transported an hour after that to Children's Hospital, where he's been for the past 40 days.

2 weeks ago, my vehicle died in the parking lot at work.  i honestly could only laugh.  as i turned the key over in the ignition, and heard nothing, i started to laugh.  i had so many people come to my aid and try to help me.  nothing worked.  my car would have to sit until i could afford a tow and a repair.

the next day, friday,  i found out at that the final working piece was decided on and i was moving into the classroom that i had been wanting to be in, the spot in which i was hired in, 2 years ago.  my car got towed the next day, saturday and the starter that was 14 years old, original to my vehicle, got changed out in an hour and my car was ready for me to have the next day, Sunday.

can i tell you, the week i found out about the final piece at work fitting together, i stopped bleeding the very next day.  I have not bled in 10 days.

today was the first day i was back in my old classroom.  when i clocked in and went to my new spot, i could not hide the huge smile i had on my face.  one that has been dormant for a very long time.  it wasn't like work at all.  i was back where i belonged.  and even more exciting for me, the kids that i have already taught in the little tyke classroom ... will eventually all come through the 5 year old class that i am teaching in now.  it was the encouragement i needed at the right time, when i let a few parents know of the transition, they were smiling as big as i was when they realized that "Miss Erica" will be their kids teacher once more.

can i tell you ... there were days i did NOT want to get up.  there were days when i questioned what God was doing, what He was thinking.  if He was even in my corner at all.  *brutal honesty coming up*  there were days when huge blood clots were coming out of me and i wondered how God could love me in the state i was in.  On those days, it was sheer faith.  i felt like i only had a mite, half of a half of a mustard seed of faith.  there is a New Testament story in the bible.  It was about a woman who had been bleeding for 12 ... YEARS.  she heard that Jesus was coming through town and she pushed through crowds and crowds of people to see him.  i think of the images i have seen of Woodstock.  Jesus in the middle of that crowd, walking to his next assignment.  and this woman, who was bleeding, tired, scared ... crawled to get to him.  can you imagine, sweaty, dirt caked on sweaty face and palms.  rock sticking into weakened flesh from crawling on hands and knees.  she knew that if she could just touch Jesus, she would be healed.  she touched the most ragged part of his garment, the dustiest, dirtiest part of his robe ... the fabric that dragged across the ground.  she knew if she could just touch that part ... she would be healed.

on the days leading up to this woman finding Jesus, it was sheer faith.  she had nothing left to give, nothing left to offer, but if she could just touch the hem of the garment of the Healer ...

she reached for him and touched his robe and Jesus looked around at the crowd, and asked "who has touched me?  virtue and power flowed from me, who touched me?"  As if Jesus didn't already know.

on the days it was sheer faith for me, i remembered that woman, the woman with no name.  Perhaps the gospel writer left out her name because it would be easier for me, 2000 years later to relate to a woman who had felt like me at one point.  i would stand in the shower, watching blood leave my body and i would remind God of His Word, His promise.  that He was the healer, and i needed a healer.  i remember a few times i was praying and i thought, "if i could just touch you like that woman did, i would be healed."  then i was reminded of another scripture, another promise of God's word.  He said "blessed are you who believe and yet do not see."  that i am more blessed because i believe, yet do not see him.  and then again, in Luke, "blessed is she who has believed that the Lord would fulfill his promises to her."


that is all i had most days.  i am going to see an OBGYN next monday for the first time.  which i am dreading.  i set up the appointment because of the bleeding.  i have seen God's favor in my life.  sometimes when God is preparing to reveal His favor, He is preparing you ahead of that to walk through the valley and desert it takes to get to see that favor.  Moses did not see the miracle of the split sea without the enemy barreling down on him,  chasing him into the miracle.

During this last season, i have felt like all i could do was let the enemy chase me into the miracle.

withdrawn

2 months since the last time i posted.  2 days until i can wipe 2017.  i was kind of in a rough spot the last time i wrote a post; October 31.  I was in the middle of weaning off my antidepressant medication  and had been off medication i was taking for insomnia and restlessness at night.  I had hope about coming off of the medication after i was able to see how it was affecting me in nearly every area of my life.  i was excited.

but then ....

things were getting worse, not better.  And you know that old saying "it'll get worse before it gets better."?  yea.  i embodied that.  i was scared.  i felt so alone in it.  i looked up again symptoms of coming off the certain med i was coming off from and it fit to a T.  but i was still afraid.  i wondered if i was doing the right thing.  i wondered if i was making things worse.  i wondered if i was completely crazy.  i wondered if i should go back on the medication, find a different one.  but i kept choosing to wean from it.

in the next 2 months from October 31, i experienced things i've never experienced before.  physically; i experienced dizziness 24/7.  it did not matter what i was doing.  when i opened my eyes in the morning and thought "maybe today ... it will be gone."  i had to steady myself with the table to keep from falling over.  it didn't matter if i was turning my head slightly to see if it was safe to make a left hand turn while driving, my world was sent into a spin.  My head felt like it was not even attached to my neck and shoulders.  i had experienced vaginal bleeding for 3 months on top of the 3 weeks i was already experiencing the bleeding.

emotionally; it was torture.  i wondered if i would ever get better. it was like clickbait for my mind to wander to negative land.  on my drive to work, i would use the 15 minute drive to pray and ask God to realign the things that were out of whack.  i would hardly get a few words out before i would have to swallow my tears so my makeup wouldn't run all over.  i would feel the warm water of tears begin to well up over the lids of my eyes and shut it down immediately.  then i would get angry at myself and angry at what was happening inside of my brain and my body.  i would scream in my car at God, telling Him how frustrated and angry i was.  i probably looked like a psycho.

spiritually; i knew that God was with me.  i knew that He could see me.  I knew that He would see me through it all.  but i did not feel it.  i could not feel Him with me.  and you can't feel faith.  it was a hard choice every single moment, to choose to believe that He was with me, that He would help me.  that He was a good dad.  some of my fight was beginning to come back when i would declare the truths of His Word over my life.  calling out things that were not as though they were.  I know that might sound crazy.  but the bible says that faith without works is dead.  so i was going to believe what the Word said, even if it sounded ridiculous.  So i would pray and thank God for the things that were not, as though they were.  "God, thank you that this bleeding issue is tapering off in Jesus name."  "God thank you that your Name heals."  "God thank you that this dizziness is coming to an end"

I reached out to a friend and let her know what was happening and if she could help me.  I was on the phone with her for 30 minutes and had a plan of attack.  I immediately began implementing new supplements with my daily ones i was already taking.  Phytoestrogen -- to begin to balance out my hormones that were out of sorts.  Pharma-GABA to help with my anxiety.  5 HTP to help with depression.  Probiotics to bring alignment back into my gut and immune system and also helps with mood swings.  Niacin tablets to restore energy.  Raw Zinc -- which probably helps with my memory since i can't remember what it's for, but i researched it out.

Landon helps me smile. 

dear God.  i don't know how I've made it this far through all that.  it has been an incredibly frustrating and scary road.  And it's been so hard going to work every day, working with kids, who pick up on a broken toenail, for Pete's sake!  i think God's grace has been working over drive to cover me.  it's frustrating when they want you to chase them, or shoot baskets, and you can't because if you move too quickly, you'll fall over because of dizziness.  and i can't imagine it helps to be losing blood for almost 4 months at the same time.  None of my nice clothes or jeans fit me anymore, as the medicine i was taking causes a high percentage of weight gain.  i sat in my room, crying as i went through every pair of jeans and every nice sweater, tank top, work out clothes, etc. in my closet and drawers trying them on and not even being close to fitting.  God, i felt so defeated.   such a huge area of frustration because i was physically doing well with working out, having energy, etc. before the medication.  All of that is gone now.  i hate leaving the house because i hate the way i look right now.  and i know in my heart that it's really just a heavy thick layer of faux-feel-better aftermath.  but it doesn't make my pants any looser or my jackets anymore comfortable to wear.  the good news is that studies have shown that after about 90 days of being off the meds, you'll begin to see the weight come off.  only about 70 more days.  

If going on this medication has helped me to see anything, it's that i can use natural things to help me because it wasn't helping me to feel better.  its been an overwhelming year.  and I'm praying that God is going to overwhelm those things that have overwhelmed me, that what looked like a defeat is just a really good setup for a huge victory.

Jesus, help me.
Jesus, come quick.
Jesus, thank you for 2017.

on a closing note, the bleeding has nearly tapered off and so has the dizziness.

inside of me

an insane amount of days have passed since I've donned a seat at the table in front of my laptop to share my heart.  I've been busy.  Busy getting well, busy being sick, busy being a teacher, busy figuring out how to be an aunt, busy being me.  It almost feels overwhelming when i think about how much i really do have to share.  but this is something that hasn't left me alone for over a week.  One of my main focuses when i blog is sharing real stuff so that others know two things; they're not alone, there is hope.  with those two things in mind, I'm slipping on my transparent hat, dropping every title i have over me and I'm just Erica.  Not even Miss Erica ... Im just Erica right now.

Over a year and a half ago, I was diagnosed as having depression and anxiety and i began a medication regimen to help regulate what was going cooky in my brain.  It was pure hell.  It was the hardest, most vulnerable fight I've ever had to endure ... until the one I'm in now.  I started a new job as a teacher, a teacher in our KidZone ministry at church, joined the worship team, some graphic design dabbling.  And a whole host of other things happening before I turned 30.  

I went from completely isolating myself in my room, desperately trying to chase sleep, to finding hope and help in new relationships and opportunities for growth and wholeness.  Jesus with me every step of the way.  For 6 months, my medication was working WONDERS!  It was completely miraculous.  I had NEVER felt better.  Incredible.  Amazing.  Mind-blowing (literally, hahaha, get it, bc my brain ... never mind).  I finished my coursework for my CDA, was about to become an Aunt for the very first time ... it was awesome.

But then ...

a deeper kind of hell came.  It came quietly and sudden.  it came disguised.  it came and i didn't even know it.  I began getting sick ... nothing incredibly shocking, the weather and seasons were changing, everyone was sick.  But I stayed sick.  The moment I felt better, I began experiencing new and worsening symptoms.  Wheezing, coughing, sinus issues, shortness of breath, insomnia.  All of that at the same time.  No one could find out what was happening.  It was all just a "virus" that needed to run its course.  Fevers, weight gain, chills, throwing up, headaches.  And then other "random" things followed.

One morning I woke up for work and my ankles were swollen huge.  It hurt to stand on them.  I hadn't done anything the day before that would warrant something like that to happen.  I couldn't walk normal unless I wore tall socks and my high top sneakers.  That's how i got thru my days at work.  The moment i got home and took off my shoes and socks, that pain ensued.  Nothing i did helped.  Because i was having to walk funny, my back was thrown out of whack.  Going a little more personal, I even missed a menstrual cycle.  When it came back, it came back for a short amount of time and then came 10 days early the next time around.  Since it came 10 days early, i have been on it for the last 3 weeks.  I have never had issues with my menstrual cycle.  

One of my very dear friends pulled me aside and let me know she was concerned about me.  I was not me anymore -- and I couldn't even tell.  scary.  I had retreated into my own self again, hadn't talked to any of my friends in months, hadn't spent time with any of them, stopped doing the things i loved, gone completely numb having no emotions, staying home from church, ducking out of social interactions and experiencing high levels of anxiety, not sleeping, fidgeting.  

I'm so incredibly grateful for her.  She was doing research for me without me even knowing.  She was looking up things to help with my depression and anxiety from a naturalist's perspective.  I began looking up side effects to my medications that I had been taking and found that every issue I was experiencing was listed on the rare and major side effects list of this certain medication.  

Since that day, I have been weaning off of my medication with the help of my psychiatrist and adding the supplements that my friend researched.  I have noticed a huge difference.  I take my medication along with these supplements and am beginning to feel again, my body doesn't ache like it used to while on the medication, I'm sleeping, I go out with my friends, I can feel joy again.  The medication was also weakening my immune system, which was why I was sick all the time.  Since last December, I had something going on with my health.  It has taken almost an entire year, but I'm glad someone helped me figure out what was happening.  The last time I was sick was back in July and I was scared that I wouldn't be able to hold my nephew because I was so sick all the time.  I got to hold him for the first time in August and haven't been sick since.  

I'm not knocking medication.  I know that people legit need it for anxiety and depression.  For me, I know what I need.  I have a battle plan in place and fighters in my corner.  I can't wait to be completely off the medication and continue in a natural way to fight my depression and anxiety.  But until then, I continue to wean off and take my supplements and implement new practices into my life.  

Thank you to my friends who have walked alongside me, seen the worst side and are seeing the best side.  I love you infinitely.  thank you for agreeing to fight with me, for me and drag me sometimes thru this hell.       

feel my love

no one may ever read this.  but if for my own sake to document it, when i need to be reminded of the love that passionately, relentlessly pursues me.  ripping through barriers, boundaries and bullshit.  (sorry)

tonight after i returned from the gym, i sat down after my shower and fixing up my mop top.  i just began to cry because something deep in my soul just longed for Jesus.  Just to sit on the floor across from him and tell him about what i felt towards him.  to hear about what kind of miracles he got to be part of today.  people he rescued, marriages he restored, chaos he brought peace to.  but i can't have that yet.  at least not this side of eternity.  one day, i will sit on the floor of heaven and sit eye to eye with the King.  until then, i long.  

as i sat and let tears finally, freely fall from my eyes without an ounce of shame, i mustered out a one sentence prayer.  i just looked up and said, as if he were kneeling in front of me, waiting for me to tell him what i needed, "God, help me to feel your love again."  

something i struggle so much with is my ability to hear God.  i am learning to give him more credit.  who gave me my brain, and my ability to process?  He did.  So instead of doubting what so quickly came into my head after i lifted that feeble little prayer, i acted on it.  

"God, help me to feel your love again."  Boom.  the song that rolled through my head was an older one.  It is by Garth Brooks.  God chased me down with a secular song.  The song is called, "To Make You Feel My Love."  i let the words wash over my heart, and even as it plays now, i know that he is the one who is singing over me.  "he rejoices over me with singing."  

i can know that he will always come after me.

here is the link to the song:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=om3P8wY6L7c

Seeing Jesus

Early Sunday morning, I was awakened around 2:30. I could not fall asleep. In moments when my body gets restless & my mind won't turn off, the enemy thinks he has me. And if I'm honest, he used to. In my many many years of undiagnosed anxiety & depression, he had a grip on me that sometimes felt like chains around my entire body, mind & spirit.  Shackling me to a weight of shame.  A ball and chain I lugged around loudly on the inside, and tried my damndest to keep quiet on the outside...where everyone could see.  The awkward tension that rises up like flames licking the vulnerable parts of my heart when even the slightest things changed quickly.  I kept thinking that I just needed to let God have control in all my circumstances.  Which is true.  But even beyond that surrender, there was still this terrifying anxiety that was so sinister and conniving, and it mocked me without relent. 

When I can't sleep, when my body refuses to be still, when my thoughts of sadness race fast enough to overlap each other, I find things that bring me life. I love to create things. Different media, designs, written pieces, blogging.  It's a safe coping skill I have learned to unashamedly pull out of my arsenal.  Yesterday morning when I couldn't sleep, I designed an image and all I could muster across my brain in a reel of thoughts was, "I wanna see you today, Jesus."  

And he heard me. And he answered me.  I didn't even have a certain level of expectation as to how I wanted to see him. All I knew was that I wanted to see him.  He came in a very unsuspected, but tangible way. 

The bible says our steps are ordered of the lord. And man, yesterday was such an awesome blessing for me. I went to church, and had a plan to go to the gym right after. I was on one of the last machines & had one more set of 15 I wanted to do on my triceps. I was ready to push another 90lbs but it was almost like the lord tapped me on the shoulder and said, "no, 55 is enough." So I got up. Something I wouldn't normally do. I went to tan for my usual 9 minutes and when I stepped in I felt so dizzy. I knew I needed to get out. So I did. Then I hopped back in. And I knew I shouldn't stay in because i was close to passing out.  so, against what i really wanted to do, i was nice to myself and got out. I let the time run out on the tanner, got dressed, and walked out.  my next plan was lunch.  i was going to walk to the food court for subway but remembered my wallet was in the car and i was not about to walk back and forth two more times just to get it. so i decided to drive to the next nearest subway.  as i pulled in, a familiar vehicle pulled in at the same time in the other driveway.  it was a couple of my favorite people.  we laughed and went inside.  they bought my sub and sat with me for lunch.  my next plan was to head to the water to read and journal.  but i got roped into some ice cream ... ahem ... sugar free frozen yogurt.  which also got paid for.  after that, i was then going to head to read.  but... God must have known i needed some sun, what with not being able to make it through my 9-minutes of UV.  So i went back with those sub-buying, fro-yo treating people and laid in the pool for 2 hours.  it was amazing.  

now i realize, this sounds non-amazing.  but as i sat back and reflected on a day that went mostly the way i had planned, i realized that it was so much better than i had anticipated.  it was going to be a day alone, reading, treating myself to some gym time, self compassion.  and i got all of those, but with a big huge cherry on top.  and i started to walk backward through my day.  God reminded me of the moment i was sitting on that weight machine, about to push another 15 reps of 90lbs.  but he told me i had done more than enough, to get up and go.  and then he showed me in the tanner, realizing it was too much and i chose to leave.  i realized if i had pushed thru those things, avoided his little nudges, i would have missed the subway rendezvous, the fro-yo treat and the best treat of all, spending time with people who have walked with me thru some pretty rough patches, never treating me any less, loving on me like i was part of them.  

so yea, i'd say my prayer was answered...when, at 5am, the morning of church, not being able to sleep that night, i mustered a feeble prayer that was just a few words, "i wanna see you today, jesus."  and i saw him.  big time.  

I love Jesus so much ... and i have depression.

i love jesus so much. and i have depression.

one day, i asked god to give me more influence in the lives of those around me.  

shortly after that, i was walking thru my newly exposed, seasoned, hidden struggle with depression and anxiety.  ever since i can remember, i have struggled with both.  and now, i am 29, fumbling thru the path of how to walk in the awkwardness of embracing this new thing, that isn't so new.  it is new to being exposed, but not new in the respect that its just always been there.  i am beginning to believe that my full healing will come as i continue to gingerly walk thru the hell of the darkness of depression, and the shame of anxiety.  unashamedly embracing what has been there all along.  my name is erica. i am a teacher, a daughter, a leader in an amazing ministry, i try to be a good friend, i crack myself up, desperately in love with jesus … and i have depression.  and guess what … it’s ok.

i ran into an old colleague from one of my former jobs.  i ran into her at the gym.  it was cool to see her again and get an update on her life.  she asked me if i was seeing anyone. what i wanted to say was “yea actually! I'm seeing two guys.  one is older, one is younger.  the younger one is my therapist. i see him a couple times a month.  and then the older one is a doctor. a doctor of psychiatry. and i see hime about once a month.”  i laughed to myself and had to suppress my secret inner giggle.

Jesus is dirty.

from the ashes of my journal...

"there is no way God has allowed for me to walk thru the hell i have walked thru and He not have an amazing, earth-shattering purpose for me, both in the midst of it and on the other side of it.  the purpose in the midst of it may even be more important than what comes after it. on the other side."

We see and picture God ... hang on.  Before i go any further.  take about 10 seconds or so and just think about what God looks like to you. and hold it in your mind.  what is the very first image you see?  what does he look like?  what is he wearing?  what does his face look like?  what do his hands and feet look like? you got it?  ok, don't forget it.

now...we see and picture God or Jesus (i am speculating) as maybe a neat freak.  Pristine white and perfectly clean.  I guess I see him as a mechanic.  Their hands are always greasy, grimy, dirt and oil all up under their nails.  Sleeves rolled up, work pants and steel-toed boots.  Pen behind their ear, smudges go grease and dirt and oil rubbed into the pores of their face.  Smudges of grime on work orders, each with its own list of diagnoses and remedies.

Jesus isn't clean.  Jesus ... is dirty.  Jesus isn't clean on the outside, but he wears robes of righteousness.

Jesus wears robes of grime.
Jesus wears robes of grease.
Jesus doesn't have smooth hands, He has holes in them, no doubt calloused from the hard nails that were driven thru them.
Jesus doesn't have manicured nails. He has dirt and grime up underneath them.

To me, Jesus doesn't wear robes.
To me, Jesus wears dirty carpenter jeans, work boots, a pen behind his ear.
Face of gentle tenderness, greased over with oil and dirt.

Jesus is a dirty mechanic.

The End

My grandpa has been gone now for 9 months today. But I can still feel the sorrow as if it were yesterday. I can still smell the sterile air of the hospital room. I can still taste the salty tears. I have this wonderful, dreadful gift...my mind. I can recall things vividly & quickly. Even smells can trigger memories.  I hate it. After someone is gone, all you have are memories. I wish I didn't have them. Some find comfort in it, others are haunted by them. I can recall memories at the drop of a hat, and along with them, come the emotions & feelings. I have another wonderful, dreadful gift...I feel things very deeply. I hate it more than I like it. I wish I could turn them off. But when I do, I miss the good parts. It's a constant battle.

I love Christmastime. But I wish I could skip past it this year. I know there's joy wrapped up inside every sorrow but I'm just tired of looking for it. Lately, joy feels like a pretend world to me. I hurt on the inside, searching for joy, but there's nothing I can find. I know...I know...Jesus is our joy, be grateful & give thanks in every season. I know, I get that. Indulge for a minute though. I have found some joy in this last season. I have. But God...he's the only one who knows how painful & broken & heartbreaking this last year has been for me. And sometimes the more painful part is waiting for God to bring the redemption for all those things that have been dead and gone.

2015 was a year of dead things. Dead dreams, relationships, trust & people. And I have been desperately asking God to not let that follow me into the next year. His word says goodness & mercy shall follow me all the days of my life. It sure hasn't looked like it. Waiting for the redemption hurts. I barely made it into 2015 before things started falling apart. Seriously...nearly an entire year of brokenness, death, pain, loss. And my fear...is that it's all for nothing. My fear is that I'm actually waiting on nothing. I've never been in a season this long before. I've never been in a season where pretty much everything around me & in me was broken. I've never been in a season where it is rare to go an entire day without fresh tears falling on dry ground. Sometimes it's my tears that got me thru a day of grief that I didn't know how to release.
But somehow...I've made it. Somehow, I pushed thru. I feel this thing like 2016 is the beginning of the best days of my life.
Which is scary bc nothing is different...nothing has changed. I have the same dead end job, same church, same roles, same family, same broken friendships. And if my reality is supposed to be what God says even if it's not what I see...that's a painful place to live. It's where I've lived. Lonely and broken. Longing for dreams and promises to come...but I'm left wondering.
Crumbling under the weight of dashed expectations, delayed promises. It plain sucks. I've been reduced to begging God to just show up for me. Begging him to do something...anything. The silence is killing me. He tells me I'm walking on the ground of the miraculous...but it all looks ordinary...unchanged. It all looks the same. I wanna believe that I heard him...but it all just sounds too good to be true. Why would God want to restore something that means so much to me? Why? I desperately don't want to be wrong...not bc I want to be right...but bc I want to know that I've really heard him. Does it make sense that someone who can so clearly hear God for others also struggles with believing they actually are and can hear from him for themselves? Does that make sense?

It feels like this...sorrow upon sorrow.
And for an entire year almost...I've hid from my family, the tears that I've cried. I've buried my face in pillows, laundry piles and loud music to cover up my pain, my cries. I've gone on long drives alone to cry and pray so that no one at home knew that I was struggling. And the place where you should feel like the most comfortable, the most safe, the most able to let it all out...I couldn't. why? Because no one except God can understand the season I have narrowly made it thru. Only He could bring me thru. No one gets it but Him. Because sometimes, He is the only one who really knows how we feel.

So what's "The End"? It's moving on even though prayers have painfully been and remain unanswered. It's promises that will be left hanging in the balance. It's deciding to keep moving even though everything in me SCREAMS at me to give up, walk away, let go, call it quits. The End means there's a new beginning.  The End means I can expect something to start. I will kiss this year goodbye with a sloppy wet kiss, let it go with open palms, cry over it probably until 12:01am on January 1, 2016. But after that, it's over. 2015 will be done and gone. And I'm praying that a new slate, a fresh clean start awaits me and the ashes that haven't been made beautiful yet will be.  I'm hoping that the ruins that are still just rubble will be made glorious. And I'm believing, with all I feel I don't have left...that my God is a restoring God. Where 2015 was full of heartache, I'm prophesying before I even get into 2016 that it will be full of healing. Where 2015 was full of mess, I'm believing for 2016 to be full of a hope-filled message. And where 2015 was a year of things being lost, stolen and destroyed, I'm speaking in the language of miracles...that 2016 will be a year of things found, hope returned and life restored to all the areas that are still dead.

"And now to Him...who is able to do far more than we even ask or think or imagine..."

There's Nothing Magical About Christmas...

When i was younger, Christmas was magical.  When i was younger, gifts "suddenly" appeared under the tree and all i had to do was try really really hard to fall asleep the night before.  It was a MIRACLE!!! mostly everything i told this smelly dude at the mall wearing a red suit and fake beard that i wanted suddenly appeared.  But as i grew older and i found out the truth about Santa, who's handwriting "mysteriously" looked like my mom's...it became less and less about what i got for christmas.  sure there are things that i wanted when i was 15 years old.  but i knew then that the things i wanted came outa my mom's paycheck.  it didn't mean so much to me anymore.  In fact, i remember a Christmas about 10 years ago.  I opened my gifts and went to the bathroom to try on all the clothes that I helped my mom pick out for my christmas gifts.  I remember crying.  And it wasn't because it was the wrong sweater or i didn't get the things i wanted...it was because i realized that christmas was so much more.  there were so many others that weren't in a home, or had gifts, or family or turkey or mashed potatoes.  i felt guilty that i had so much and others had so little...or nothing at all.

10 years later, and I'm 29.  and the stuff... doesn't really matter. in fact...it matters less and less every year.  there are things far more eternal and personal and emotional that matter to me now.  i care about putting the tree up, stringing lights and hanging decorations.  i care about being with people i love.  but you see, over the years, things die.  traditions, people, friendships, hopes, dreams, goals, expectations.  and christmas means hardly anything anymore at my house.  I'll be working christmas eve and christmas day.  I'll get time and a half pay...but that doesn't really mean a whole lot to me anymore.  money is nice...but it sure isn't everything.

This year, a tradition dies.  my grandpa has been gone now for 8 months.  gone unexpectedly.  We won't go to my grandparents house this christmas like every year for the past 30 years and sit around a large table and share food, memories, stories, and a tradition started 2 years ago, Bingo.  And i'm left in this lonely place of decision.  Do i choose to believe that the best is yet to come?  Even though things aren't the way i had hoped or planned or expected?  Or do i stoop into grief and stay there, "protected" during the holidays when family and friends and the miracle of Jesus are what is celebrated?  It's hard.  this life of faith...is hard.

Christmas is not magical, but it is supernatural.  A baby born of a virgin, whom through the Savior of the world would come.  Christmas is a miracle.  Not because we get what we want off of a list, not because of anything other than Jesus.  If I am to believe that "hope is here" because hope is anywhere I am, it certainly is a choice that i have to make.  Even though i look around my world and see that things are so not what they used to be, traditions are gone, people are gone, and other things gone...I can still choose to believe that hope lives because Christ in me is the hope of glory.  And because He is in me, Hope is in me.  and hope is not magical. but it is powerful.  hope fills my lungs and breathes onto my faith that sometimes looks just as dead and broken as some of the things around me.  I can have hope to its fullest capacity that the best really is yet to come.  And just because i can't see it ... doesn't mean it's not here.