mentalhealth

When Did We Stop Listening?

I almost never watch the news. Honestly, I can’t stand it.

But this week, during an hour-long nail appointment, the television was on. In that short time, I heard stories of a shooting at an ICE facility in Dallas, a semi-truck being pursued by police in Anaheim, and a stabbing at a school on the East Coast. And of course, you’d have to be living under a rock not to have heard about the Charlie Kirk shooting.

It struck me how much heaviness, violence, and grief can fill just sixty minutes of airtime. For me, that’s exactly why I usually avoid tuning in. Still, the stories linger, and they’ve left me chewing on something deeper: when did we stop listening?

Over the last twenty plus years, we’ve gotten very good at talking. With social media, 24-hour news, and endless platforms, everyone has a microphone, and everyone wants to be heard. But somewhere along the way, listening seems to have fallen out of practice.

When did we stop breaking bread with friends and neighbors and really trying to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes? Right, left, polka dot, or rainbow—it doesn’t matter the label. When did our brains stop stretching to see the world from another vantage point? When did the sound of our individual voices grow louder than the sound of voices bonded together—as Americans, as human beings, as family by blood or by choice?

Lately, I’ve struggled most with understanding the tragedy around Charlie Kirk. The things I’ve learned about him since his death make me wish I’d paid more attention before. But more than that, I keep coming back to his widow. Watching her carry herself with such strength in public, knowing the depth of pain and grief she must be enduring, moves me deeply. I imagine how all she must want is to pull the covers over her head and wish it all away.

And I find myself asking: when did the world become a place where taking another person’s life was seen as an acceptable way of dealing with conflict? When did celebrating the loss of someone’s husband and father become okay?

Maybe it’s age. Maybe it’s the season of life I’m in. But I feel like I see things through different glasses now. I long for a time when I could keep my babies close and not have to trust this cruel world to spare them. These days, my heart aches as I wonder where all of this is headed.

I don’t have tidy answers. But I do know this: the more cruelty I see, the more convinced I become that compassion is the only way forward. Listening doesn’t mean agreeing. It doesn’t mean silencing your own beliefs. It means making space, honoring another perspective, and remembering that life is fragile, sacred, and shared.

Maybe the first step is simple. Notice how much we talk. Notice how little we listen. And choose, in small ways, to listen again.

Because the sound of voices joined together—not in anger, not in argument, but in genuine listening—is still one of the most powerful sounds in the world.

Blessings Y’all. Pray for each other and our country.

Amy

Another Goodbye, A Closing, and A New Year

This one has been bouncing around in my brain the last few weeks and I’ve been trying to sort through so many emotions. Figure I’ll sort it out here like I always do lol. The Irving house finally found its new owners. About a week ago another tumor took our sweet Paris. And inexplicably a new year is upon us.

We signed the papers on the Irving house four years to the day of when I unpacked the last box, hung the last picture, and posted the before and after video of the renovation from moving into Turtle Summit. Funny sometimes how God’s timing works. I’ve been trying to put my mind around the emotions there, cause there are some, but can’t quite get there. When I reflect back on who I was then…man.

Four years ago I was so angry. So tired. So overwhelmed. So afraid. If I dared to crack open one of my prayer journals I can almost promise you those prayers read something like “give me my life back” or “rewind the clock”. My children were leaving home, my husband was gone, and I had absolutely no idea who I was. And quite frankly I was crazy. Out of my mind flipping crazy. I look back on that person and wonder where she came from and thank God every day that he put the right tools and people in my path to get me through.

As I look around today? My list of blessings is as overwhelming as that list of pain and sorrow was. A home I never could have dreamed this small town girl would ever have. A man I adore who loves me beyond measure. A job that challenges me and pushes me to keep growing even when I’d like a minute to breathe.

Last weekend we said goodbye to another of our fur babies. She was older but we weren’t ready. She had a tumor in her ear that they couldn’t promise us wasn’t in her brain. She was in pain and not herself. We kept the promise we made each other not to prolong our babies lives for our own inability to say goodbye. But less than three months after losing Hope it just made the grief hole rip open again. The energy in the house has shifted again and the three remaining girls are tying to find a new rhythm. They are very clingy to us and hate when we leave the house.

Tim and I’s word for 2025 is “intentional”. So often we find ourselves at the end of a week, month, or year having just responded to all that came at us instead of acting intentionally towards our goals. We want to work on the goals we have set and live life on our terms. I think some of that is a result of seeing what we accomplished when we set our mind to it with the house. Not sure. We just know that as we heal from some of what 2024 took from us and embrace some of what it gave us we have big plans.

I am waking up at night with my mind and my heart racing. Anxiety coursing through me that I can’t identify. I thought it was the house. But with that settled not sure what it is. Work is out of control busy so maybe it’s that. But I know that if I turn it over to God and just lift it in prayer it’ll resolve itself in time. Just takes the one thing hardest for me – faith.

What are you reflecting on in as we close out 2024?

—Amy

The Ugly Side of Moving

I’ll preface this with I am well aware that I am beyond blessed. The manner in which all the pieces of the current season of life fell into place is nothing short of God’s grace. But for someone with anxiety being in a constant state of chaos has a price.

My sweet husband keeps telling me “it’ll be ok”. Along with “we’ll get there” and “it’s not a race”. What I can’t convey, what I don’t seem to be able to put into words, is that living in constant chaos makes me feel unsafe. I have not one place – at home OR at work – that I can get a deep breath. Ironically the only place that is “normal” right now is my truck….and being in it as much as I have been lately is very not normal.

At work the pressure is unbearable. My own relentless self expectation to not let anyone down who is counting on me on top of what’s flowing downstream because of trying to get an entire office moved left me in my office crying today. When I come home there is something that needs my attention or to be put away every where I turn. Sheer exhaustion means I break, drop, or misplace almost everything I touch. Never mind accuracy at what I’m attempting to process at the office. Tim had to go tonight to work on the old house so it will be ready to be put on the market. In my efforts to get SOMETHING productive done I managed to dent the drywall and break one of my favorite lamps in the space of 30 minutes.

My brain feels like what is left of one of my favorite lamps.

Tim keeps telling me to relax. Trying to explain to him that my mind won’t LET me relax when everywhere I look there is something that needs to be done is a concept that doesn’t register with most people. I know, logically, that moving is probably one of the most stressful things we do as an adult. I have moments where I can catch a glimpse of what life will be like if we ever get to the other side of this mountain. But lack of sleep and being in a constant state of chaos and overwhelmed is robbing some of the joy that I think I should be getting from this. I come across as angry when I know I’m not. It seems to be the only emotion that is coming out with any regularity.

Tim says he can fix the dent in the drywall. And I have another lamp. And work will always just be work. Just wish I could relax, get some more sleep, learn how to leave the piles at work and at home without the doomsday feeling….and most definitely I am never moving again. Ever.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Anxiety Sucks

So for whatever reason I’ve never been one of those types of people who do things the easy way. Whether through luck of dealing with the *stuff* life dishes out or just being late out of the starting gate on major decisions I tend to have an avalanche of changes all at the same time. For an anxiety sufferer that it gets worse with age? FML.

I am writing this from about 30k feet somewhere between DFW and Seattle on our way to the Alaska trip we’ve had in the works with the hubster and my MIL’s for almost a year. I am trying to remember a time I had such a struggle even getting OUT the door for a trip. Between Hope’s diagnosis, the house buying process going on at home, being on the cusp of the fall rush at work, scheduling moving personally (and oh yah professionally come October), and a full scale change of my mental health meds? This girl is on some shaky ground. Sobbing as I left the house today….gently pushing Hope back in the house as she tried to follow me out like she has been doing in her cling on phase here lately….there was a moment when Tim looked at me and said “honey if you want to stay home it really is ok”. And a second moment where I really truly almost did just that. Not sure even he realizes how close I came to stepping back through that door.

But I am blessed with a daughter who loves my fur kids as much as I do. A bestie in that same group. Another bestie who is a rock star realtor giving everyone what for on the purchase of our house. Family who is coming up late next week to take a shift with the dogs. A hubby who put cameras up in the house so I can get an eyeball full of the babies whenever I need (which ironically is the ONLY thing that doesn’t work on this plane’s WIFI). Remote access to the office so I can stay caught up and not add being behind to it all. Even in my worst anxiety attack when I remember to breathe I know I am blessed. But dang it it takes a hot minute sometimes. When did anxiety become part of our culture and everyday life for so many of us? Is it the unrelenting pressure to always be, perform, do? Anyone got any non-pharmaceutical tips and tricks for kicking that beast to the curb permanently?

I’m blessed with a great counselor who always has plenty to help me. My biggest issue is IN the moment, like when I was walking out the door looking in Hope’s sad eyes today, none of them are larger than the fear, doubt, and paralyzing anxiety. I described it to someone today like standing on the edge of a cliff. On one hand I’m looking over my shoulder afraid I’m gonna miss something at home if I go. On the other I’m looking at the jump afraid something bad is gonna happen if I don’t go. I get caught up in the who I’m gonna hurt or what “damage” I’m gonna cause…and my “gut” I have relied on instinctively for so many years? That stupid thing fled the building about four years ago. And the real biotch of it all is that if I’m not careful I will miss something this week while we’re off doing something I normally love…and seeing something through my husband’s eyes that lights his fire the way the Caribbean does mine.

It all just sucks. There are no easy answers and no “quick” fixes. Only solution is to strap on the iron underpants and ride it out. When the year is done and everything levels out I know we’ll be hella proud of the things we decided on as a couple and the progress we made. We’re headed towards small(er) town life that has always made me happy. But we have a long fourth quarter in front of us….

Blessings y’all – Amy

Fearful and Fretful

Can you remember a single “ah ha” moment when you realized that life was happening to you instead of you being in control of your future? I haven’t had a lot of those but there are times God takes out a billboard in my face to make sure I don’t miss it.

All around me people I love are struggling. Some with the pain of recent loss of loved ones. Family with new challenges that are unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Others still facing the same old cycle of anxiety and depression kicking their butt. It is my habit to take on these emotions and let them guide me to a place that isn’t healthy for me while I attempt to make sure people I love and hold dear are “ok”.

I was programmed from a very very early age that my role was to take care of others. As I look back on the last couple of weeks through the filter of seeing myself in others’ eyes I have realized that I’ve mistaken fear for selflessness. It’s been EASIER to live a life taking care of others than it has been to push myself out of my comfort zone. It’s been EASIER to base my decisions on where I presume I am most needed instead of what is best for me.

My counselor says F.E.A.R. means “False Evidence Appearing Real”. How easy it is to convince myself I “have” to do something because I’m needed, the only person who can do it, blah blah blah. The evidence is that those around me would get by without my help. Perhaps even stand stronger if I’d stop trying to do it for them. How easy it is to let fear allow me to put what I need or know will make me happy on the back burner so someone I care about can be.

Tim and I are have some major life decisions in front of us. I’m paralyzed with fear over them. Dumbfounded by how much the childhood mantra I live with is playing in my head – you don’t deserve that, you aren’t good enough for that, you can’t do that. It’s cast a giant light over my life as a whole (maybe this is a mid-life crisis?) and I don’t like what I see. Fear has guided too many of my decisions and kept me in the survivor role instead of the drivers seat. I so badly want to change that….

Anyway, I’m rambling. The message here is focus on life and not the fear. The fear will always be there – how much control I give the fear and the fretting is only determined by me. It is such a hard habit to break…but I am determined. Mostly. If my body would cooperate that would be fabulous – panic attacks that leave me on the bathroom floor aren’t so fun.

What decisions in your life have you looked back and realized were only fear based?

Blessings Y’all – Amy

Real Effects of Stress

Ever had your mind spin so much when you lay down at night that, despite complete exhaustion, sleep eludes you? How about a jaw ache from clenching your teeth subconsciously for days on end? Dry skin, thyroid completely blown out of whack, digestion a joke, tension headaches, and a masseuse unable to relax the knots in your neck, lower back, and calves? How about massive weight gain despite very little of what you eat sticking with you? Tears that flow without warning and the inability to make decisions that previously you wouldn’t have even had to think about?

I wouldn’t say I am under much more stress than I ever have been in various times in my career but something about getting older (or maybe living with someone who points out what’s broken) is giving me fits. When I started to resent the effort it took to prepare to travel and recover from travel we knew we had an issue to address. We’ve been meeting with different doctors now for a few weeks and have some plans in place but at the moment my body is still being uncooperative.

For the first time in a long time this last week I napped. More than once. I had a couple of nights where I actually achieved 6-7 hours of sleep (my average is 3-5). My jaw stopped aching and I was able to say “I want to do that” not “we can do whatever you/they want”. As we got closer to returning to land the restless broken sleep returned and the jaw ache returned. So my options are to move out onto a body of water (!) or figure out how to better process and handle stress.

Seeing a break in the physical symptoms of stress has made them so much larger than they have been in the past to me. As a survivor, both from a birth defect that left me in and out of hospitals my entire life, to an abusive childhood, to being a widow at a too young age I barely recognize anymore what my brain does to be body. It’s just part of life.

Apparently…that is wrong thinking. I have four great doctors in my corner now that are determined we will turn this ship around. Tests show I have Hashimoto’s and my thyroid is not getting enough medicine (which makes sense when you have a stomachache 5 mornings out of 7). Armed with a supportive husband wiling to try anything – including sleeping with music on and a diffuser going – to help me sleep we’re working on sleep hygiene. TV being off and phones put down a few hours before bed. Taking a sleep apnea test next week to make sure I’m getting enough air. And as much as I love reading I have to switch to a) doing it with a real book not a screen at night and b) not doing it while I eat.

We are going to have to do an elimination diet to figure out what else besides gluten has my stomach so PO’d since the gastro dr ruled out anything other than what we already know I have. That will be harder on my husband than me because it involves lot more restrictions than he already endures with his diabetes. Did I mention he hates veggies? Together we’ve decided to focus on sleep first then add this next layer.

Both Tim and I have adapted the “whatever it takes” mentality. We are less than a decade from retirement (we hope) and for me to enjoy the post working years I have to be healthy. I have to learn to prioritize a work life balance. To take ten minutes in the morning to wash my face or pack a healthy meal for lunch. To take moments during the day to practice the meditation exercises both the doctor and my counselor have given me. To silence the constant barrage in my head of did I do enough, work hard enough, or am I enough? To find the ability to say “NO”.

I suspect it also means a ramp up on my writing as I find it very therapeutic. But I am going to maintain my “when I feel called to write” mentality instead of my “have to” list. I have been promised that with sleep will come energy and mental clarity. With energy will come exercise and enthusiasm for my garden, my home, and my cooking again.

If you have any yoga or meditations apps/programs you recommend send them my way. And all the prayers you can spare.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Focus on the Fruit

It’s no struggle to those in my inner circle that life is pretty much kicking my behind right now. Work is the toughest it’s been in my 12 years of working there. I leave frustrated, angry, and exhausted more days than not. Sleep is elusive (it’s 3 am right now) and there is something going on with my health that they haven’t quite figured out yet. If it wasn’t for Tim, my kids, my dogs, and my friends I’m not sure I’d be sane. Tim is quite literally my refuge each and every day – Tuesday I got out of the truck and walked straight into his arms crying. Those kinds of days can wear you down like nothing else.

Every now and then I get an urge to turn on a sermon and it gets stronger until I listen to it. Tuesday night there was no ignoring it. I don’t search for a specific one – I cue up the church I follow and hit play on whatever shows up first. As always, it was a message that I guess God knew I needed. It’s happened before but it never fails to amaze me.

The sermon was entitled “Don’t Tap Out, Tap In”. I’ve listened to it twice and have gotten something different out of it each time. The main thing being that in wrestling “tapping out” means “ok, I’ve had enough, let me up”. In life, as it wears us down we are inclined to tap out. Throw up our hands and say “I’ve had enough of _______(insert an area of life that is wearing you down)”. Being honest – that has been on my mind a lot lately in regards to work. Have I had enough? Is the stress on my body slowly killing me and taking me too early from my family? Am I happy? Am I fulfilled? Am I letting it take too much of my spirit?

Heavy questions. The pastor goes on to say that in life we have four things….fight, fire, a fence, and the future. The Devil is a quiet serpent that sneaks into those areas and moves us away from God and away from the life He has planned for us.

I live my life in a fight. Fighting to be good enough, fighting to do everything for everyone, fighting to protect my bosses bottom line due to a loyalty that runs deep, fighting to keep wayward employees on path and in processes that have been proven to work, fighting to not disappoint anyone….the list is long. That fight, and the anger it produces, keeps me from focusing on the fruit in my life. God knows how much more fruit I have in my life right now that I have had in years. I have a man that loves me, I have a home I love, I have children who are grown and make me proud every day, I have a new family that supports me in every way, and I have the ability to travel and to see the world…THAT list is long too.

But most days? What I talk about, what consumes me, is the fight. How I didn’t get enough done. How I failed to enforce processes that protect the company. How someone else’s mediocrity created more work for me and drove me crazy in the process. What I hear in my head over and over is I didn’t fight hard enough and thus I failed. I think the reason this sermon pulled me up so short is finally realizing that. Why am I allowing anything to steal my joy? Even a job I’d tell you on my worst days that I still love.

Enter the fence we all have. Otherwise known as boundaries depending on who is speaking. What I have to do now that I have had this realization is erect a fence. A TALL electric and barbed wire lined fence. Turn my eyes to the future and what I want from it and use that to put bull dogs along the fence and end the fight.

Here’s the hard part. Can I do that? Can I change course on 45 years of being a people pleasing perfectionist? I can’t help but think if God wanted me to receive this message and have these realizations that there is hope that I can. I know it’ll take a lot of work. It will take mentally slapping myself over and over again until I get it. It will take probably disappointing people who count on me but hoping they understand in the long run I’m better healthy than I ever could be as I am now. It’ll take prayer and a lot of faith in God’s plans for me.

If you know me, if you are close to me, don’t hesitate to tell me when the fight consumes me that I need to focus on my fruit. Kick my butt if you have to. It’ll take my village to change these habits but I need to change them. I can’t keep on as I am. Humans need sleep and food to be healthy and happy.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Calendar of Tears

For Christmas I gave Tim a calendar that contained all of the special people in our lives birthdays, anniversaries, important events. I also noted a small heart on days that are anniversaries/days that can be trigger days for me or have special significance.

Talking to Em last week after Mom’s birthday about us being able to take a breath after February I sort of put together in my head why those small hearts on Tim’s calendar mattered. The calendar of my life is marked with days to look out for, anticipate, pray over, and sometimes shed tears. A calendar littered with tears…I’ll explain.

In the aftermath of early grief those days – anniversaries, birthdays, holidays, special memories – they are like a tidal wave slamming into you and taking the breath out of you. What I have found is that as time moves on you don’t quite know on those days if you are going to get a tidal wave or just a lapping at your ankles. Call me crazy but the uncertainty is almost worse.

As I have grown older the calendar has become littered with “seasons” that have nothing to do with the weather. Periods of weeks or months where the bracing for the wave or the splash is just endless. December is a bad one. February is another. And by some odd quirk of dates there is a six week period from April 24th to June 5th that marks off when Mom died (4/24), PawPaw (5/14), and Fred (6/5). The three most important people in Em and I’s lives died within three weeks of each other on the calendar – just different years.

Some would say “why not just ignore those dates if they hurt” (yes I’ve had that said to me). For me that is also the same as saying to me “why don’t you just forget them?” Sounds pretty dumb huh? But it doesn’t work like that. Ignoring pain doesn’t make it go away. It gives it power and strength. Acknowledging them, celebrating them, speaking of them – that’s where the healing begins. It’s allowing yourself to remember they loved you and you loved them.

This last anniversary of Fred and I’s wasn’t special in terms of a big number or any particular significance . He’s been gone almost six years and we would have been married for sixteen. But this year was the tidal wave. Not a bad one mind you – God brought some pretty awesome memories to the day – but a tidal wave nonetheless. It’s hard to miss someone. It’s harder still when life is moving on and you are really happy.

I heard a sermon today that the message was “I’m not done with you yet, there is more to the story”. Move forward, you aren’t finished yet. Those words lifted my heart in ways I can’t yet explain to you. But what an awesome message.

I couldn’t have said this a few years ago but what if all those tears on the calendar are just part of God’s story for me? For my kids? I’ve seen those tears shape all of us in ways I know we wouldn’t have changed on our own. If we think about our pain having a purpose does it make it easier to bear?

I’ll never stop acknowledging those special days. I know there will be additions to the calendar as I age and those that are older still leave me too. But maybe I’ve reached a point I can understand that sometimes we need the tears each year to continue to wash what hurts and clear the path of where we’re meant to go.

Blessings y’all – Amy

Celebrating Love & Friendship

Someone said once that time heals all wounds. I’d be willing to bet that person hadn’t REALLY had loss in their life. Don’t get me wrong. Life is moving on. In so many fabulous ways. But as I stare down the barrel of several memory anniversaries this week I’m a little melancholy.

Turns out…time never heals grief. It eases the sharpness as you struggle to breathe. It dulls the edges in a way that makes living come back in ways you can’t imagine possible in the immediate aftermath. But time does not ever heal grief. Because grief can’t be healed. Each year the calendar rolls dates around that tug the fine hairs under the band-aid you’ve put on the pain. You find ways to brace for it. To get through it. To ask for help. But on those days the pain is very much there.

TimeHop has begun reminding me of the season of life that the kids and I were in this time six years ago. This week on Friday would have been my sixteenth wedding anniversary. As I mull that over…how many years Fred has been gone versus here a knot forms in my stomach. February 4th would have been my grandpa’s birthday.

I can honestly look back and know that these impending dates don’t send me spiraling into the hole they once did. I can proudly say that is because I’ve done the work. I’ve invested the energy in myself to know that I am a survivor. But that doesn’t mean I’m not tremendously glad that when the idea came up to run away this week that I wasn’t completely and totally on board. Spend a week away with a man who loves me and makes room for the days that I’m not quite ok? Yep. Spend a week doing one of the things I love most with friends who are like family to me? Yep. Sign me up.

Add surprising all those friends to the list (my favorite thing to do to people I love) and I’m all in.

We boarded the Carnival Celebration today. To celebrate being loved. Not once not twice but by three amazing men. My PawPaw who contradicted all the crappy awful abusive men my mother chose. Fred who took a broken girl, gave her an instant family, and was patient while she loved too hard and held on a little too tight. And this wonderful man who walks beside me now. Who quietly and patiently lets me know every day that I am worth being loved. That bruised and slightly damaged as I may be I deserve to be loved as hard as I love.

We are celebrating friendship. These that I have made in all the years I’ve traveled. The special relationships I have that I constantly confuse the mess out of Tim because he can’t remember all the names but he loves them all because they make me happy.

Love hard friends. Life is short and precious and can change on a dime.

Blessings – Amy

Over A Cliff

It’s no secret I’ve been in deep period of pain and self discovery the last couple of years. Long overdue grieving for the loss of my grandpa and my husband. Staring down the question of “who am I” when not defined by titles like mother or wife. I am damn proud of how far I’ve come. I haven’t done it alone and I know that. This very outlet had been part of the journey.

Lately I’ve been restless. Feeling disconnected from my faith. Questioning the growth. Losing my identity as an independent a bit as I’ve become part of an “us” again (def no regrets there!). I’ve recently begun listening to an audio book that has provoked some deep thinking.

I had an opportunity this weekend to share some of the feelings bubbling up with someone I trust implicitly with my thoughts. Between those conversations, my book, and what I believe is answered prayer I finally think I’m understanding where the restless is coming from.

I’ve reached a point in self discovery I could choose to be satisfied. OR this cliff I am standing on….the one that I can’t see ground below because it’s dark…I could choose to go over it and dig deeper. To return to the faith the distractions of life are pulling me from and hear what God was guiding me towards. I’ve done a lot of work. But I’ve also just stuck some of the feelings that are too painful in a box and put them on a shelf – compartmentalizing as the counselor calls it – and hoping to forget about them.

I kid you not….as I am writing this my bible app sent me this verse. Does it get any clearer than that?

It’s time to go over the cliff. To truly forgive those who have caused me pain and to forgive myself when I haven’t been the person I wanted to be. Yesterday is past and can only continue to hurt you if you can’t let go of it. It’s time to open the box, sort the feelings, and finish the journey. It’s time to love myself enough to finish the healing.

For those who have held my hand this far – I love you. I wouldn’t be on this planet today without you.

Choose you. Choose to believe that if you go over the cliff God will catch you.

Blessings y’all – Amy