If anyone is feeling nervous because this might be polarizing and offensive, don't worry. I'll try to avoid voicing any beliefs that may be open to controversy. At least, I don't think they should be controversial.
If anyone is chomping at the bit to hear my libtard views and knock me down a peg because I am young and female, and therefore ignorant, prepare to be disappointed. But I do invite you to read further, because I'm about to talk about someone with potentially similar views to yours!
This post is more about conversing about politics and social values, than it is about my own beliefs on either of those issues.
Two things are inspiring me right now.
The first is that Someone deleted my Facebook comment, which prompted quite a few emotions in me, and also some soul-searching. This person had posted a meme stating that "If you need to put a color in front of [the phrase 'lives matter', You're] racist."
That post effectively calls me racist, because I do believe that we need to specify race when fighting racism. Another friend commented on this post with the story of the Good Samaritan, challenging the meme's broad generalization. (I.e. Jesus specifically mentioned the race of the Samaritan man, to challenge Jewish prejudice of the time. Is Jesus racist for this?)
I commented, "I can see where you're coming from, but I'd love to talk to you about why I disagree. When's the next time you'll be in the area?"
All these comments were deleted. I am still unsure why my comment was deleted, and would like to talk to the person in question, but I doubt it would go well.
This incident brought up multiple quandaries for me.
My Indignation wants to tag this person in a Facebook post and label them a cowardly hypocrite, for complaining that their voice is silenced by "liberal media", and then silencing others. I am particularly incensed because I did my best to be gracious in my comment and also to remain nonthreatening.
The Patience in me wants to talk to this person. Or tag them in a less incendiary post.
The Justice within me demands I do something to counteract a hurtful voice in this time of upheaval and pain.
The Guard on my Heart believes this is a useless endeavor, and could bring me hurt/harm.
I'm caught within a web of my own values and beliefs. So I think, "What did Jesus do when he met people like this? People who take His Father's Name but choose to be narrow-minded and hurtful?"
"Should I follow His example?"
I remember Him flipping tables, boldly calling people snakes, chasing people with a whip. I remember Him challenging misplaced ideals and false pretenses. (Oh, how I love Him.)
The thing that stops me is that I know it's useless in this situation, with this person. I know it might cause me too much stress.
Jesus called the pharisees snakes until they killed Him. It was pointless, and painful.
I don't know if I can do that, though. I don't know if I'm called to do that. I'm not God. I can't carry everything. So, I write a blog post without mentioning this person's name, and debate whether I should talk to them in-person, or online, or not at all.
The second thing inspiring me, is this: my dad and I went to an anti-racism prayer/worship/discussion night by One Hope Eugene. On the way home, we discussed the concept of defunding the police, the actual real and potential effects, and our views on these topics. I wasn't sure how the conversation went, since it seemed a bit like we were both talking and not necessarily understanding.
The next day, my dad took some time out of his crazy, harvest work-schedule, and came to my apartment to tell me that it's a really good thing that I can empathize with other people and causes (in this case BLM and the reasoning behind defunding the police). We discussed our views a little bit more, and then he left.
I appreciated this so much. I've noticed him making a point of it lately, in fact. If we're getting into a discussion where we don't agree completely, he notices when I start getting passionate or worked up about my point. And (I'm guessing) because he knows that I usually get worked up when I feel like I'm defending someone, he will deescalate things by affirming my values and/or motives.
I want to learn to do the same.
I'm working on it.
The issue for me comes up in situations like my first experience. What are this person's values and motives? I can detect nothing positive whatsoever. So do I try to talk to them and see if I can understand their feelings? Do I challenge them, because they could be spreading harm? Or, do I write them off as a lost cause, at least, as far as my influence can reach?
I have no clue.
What I do know is this:
If someone wants to get into a political debate with me, they need to name 3 positive things about whatever they're arguing against. Every cause, political party, and movement, etc. has multiple sides, and it's pointless for me to try to see your side if you refuse to acknowledge anyone else's experience or priorities. (However, I don't know how/if this would apply if I'm the one seeking conversation.)
If I don't know enough about a topic, I ask questions, and then I do independent research. Especially if I don't have a great feeling about what I'm hearing.
If someone dismisses me as a person, or dismisses the idea of having conversation, they no longer fit in the "Good Person" category, for me. Maybe this is judgmental, but it’s because I think open discussions are key to progress. Being incendiary/dogmatic, and not hearing anyone else out, is pointless and rude. Especially when you're referring to people that are angry and hurt, you need to be gentle. "The bruised reed He will not break," you know?
I think also that I try really hard to absorb information and hear other people's stories. I place so much importance on this, that I can't fathom any good person believing differently about it. Doesn't mean I'm right, but this is definitely how I feel: Being a good person involves openness, growth, listening, and changing.
Hopefully I'm not coming off as challenging people just for the fun of it. Or as narrow-minded or overly harsh. I do think that injustice, prejudice, and stubborn hurtfulness need to be challenged. Especially when they are taking on the guise of faith and righteousness. Somehow that needs to be balanced with a recognition that I'm also flawed, and often wrong.
However, I do wanna clarify that challenging someone's views is not an aggressive thing, to me. In fact, it looks like my deleted Facebook comment.
"I see your perspective, but mine is different. When would it work for me to tell you how I feel about this, and why I think it's important?"
In This Time
I feel guilty for wanting relief from the heaviness in my heart, when so many people have been living under the weight of injustice simply because they exist- simply because others can choose to be evil.
I feel angry at the lies and misinformation I was fed as a child. "Black Lives Matter is racist." "Protesting for rights is just an excuse for violence." "Anti-white racism is a more pressing matter at this point." "Police brutality is not an issue of racism. Systemic racism doesn't exist anymore." I am angry I did not investigate all these things for myself earlier, and that I did not express myself more strongly when I first started realizing they were not true.
I am frustrated at my inability to do more. I feel powerless, and not just powerless as an individual. I feel like this problem is so big and deep and subversive that even all of us together will still be overcome and unheard.
I feel wrath. May God's wrath pour out on this country and all the people who hang on to evil and hurtful ideals, and also those who choose to ignore the voices of the oppressed, particularly when those voices are so accessible.
I feel extreme anxiety. Tension. Conflict. Anxiety that has prevented me from calling. Anxiety that has prevented me from researching and speaking out. Anxiety that has prevented me from marching.
I feel grief that my anxiety has stopped me from doing what I believe. I feel grief that others may be doing the same thing.
I feel pressured to force my anxiety to stand down, and I feel compelled to do something. Almost anything.
I feel insecurity. I don't know that my voice is welcome in the middle of everything. There are voices that matter much more- voices that actually know what they're talking about. Please look for those voices- reading this does not mean you are aware or justified. Writing this does not justify my inactions and prior beliefs. It does not justify my leaving others to believe harmful lies unchallenged.
I repent before God and whoever might read this.
What now?
I don't know how much of this post is ok, and how much it shows my lack of awareness. I hope I haven't said anything here to hurt anyone. I'm sorry for writing about myself right now; I just don't feel really qualified to give information about anything else. I don't want to post anything incorrect for others to read, particularly considering the right-wing community I grew up in. I don't want to give anyone any more ammunition in their wrongness.
I feel angry at the lies and misinformation I was fed as a child. "Black Lives Matter is racist." "Protesting for rights is just an excuse for violence." "Anti-white racism is a more pressing matter at this point." "Police brutality is not an issue of racism. Systemic racism doesn't exist anymore." I am angry I did not investigate all these things for myself earlier, and that I did not express myself more strongly when I first started realizing they were not true.
I am frustrated at my inability to do more. I feel powerless, and not just powerless as an individual. I feel like this problem is so big and deep and subversive that even all of us together will still be overcome and unheard.
I feel wrath. May God's wrath pour out on this country and all the people who hang on to evil and hurtful ideals, and also those who choose to ignore the voices of the oppressed, particularly when those voices are so accessible.
I feel extreme anxiety. Tension. Conflict. Anxiety that has prevented me from calling. Anxiety that has prevented me from researching and speaking out. Anxiety that has prevented me from marching.
I feel grief that my anxiety has stopped me from doing what I believe. I feel grief that others may be doing the same thing.
I feel pressured to force my anxiety to stand down, and I feel compelled to do something. Almost anything.
I feel insecurity. I don't know that my voice is welcome in the middle of everything. There are voices that matter much more- voices that actually know what they're talking about. Please look for those voices- reading this does not mean you are aware or justified. Writing this does not justify my inactions and prior beliefs. It does not justify my leaving others to believe harmful lies unchallenged.
I repent before God and whoever might read this.
What now?
I don't know how much of this post is ok, and how much it shows my lack of awareness. I hope I haven't said anything here to hurt anyone. I'm sorry for writing about myself right now; I just don't feel really qualified to give information about anything else. I don't want to post anything incorrect for others to read, particularly considering the right-wing community I grew up in. I don't want to give anyone any more ammunition in their wrongness.
Here
I posted this on my art Instagram. And then I wanted to write a little bit. So I posted on my personal account. And now I'm posting here because I want to.
I have started taking some medicine that's really been helping my brain. Like, I can feel that it's finally getting something that it needs to function. As a result, I can function. In the 2-3 weeks since I've started, I have had probably at least 4 mostly happy days. It's a record!
I've been bored. BORED. Not exhausted, BORED! It's such a good feeling to be like, "I'm bored. What if I go for a walk or wash dishes?" Instead of, "I'm bored and tired and my stomach hurts from anxiety and I feel like a worthless person because depression makes me too tired to move, and anxiety is too overwhelmed to even let me decide what to wear today."
So yesterday, when I found my favorite coffee shop extremely crowded, and my best friend had never been there before, and it was loud and overwhelming and stranger-children were standing 2 feet away and staring at my arms... and I still felt ok, and I was fully enjoying my coffee and the company of a friend and reading the dust cover on a book I found... I had to capture the moment.
"I'm pretty much just glad to be here."
Hi.
I haven't posted anything in a very long time. I have written a few things, but either I didn't know how to finish them, or they came off with too strong of an agenda, or they just didn't seem worth posting.
So, here's another shot. Hopefully you guys actually end up seeing it. I'm going to try to just tell you where I'm currently at in life, and what God's been up to with me, and I'm gonna try to not push any particular point or narrative.
I'm not sure where to start.
I don't even know when I last posted.
I guess I'll just start with a broad overview.
I have been living on my own for over two years now, almost three, I think. The last two years especially have been very difficult. I don't know if anyone remembers my post from a few years ago about grieving myself and the dreams that I had to give up, but that general idea has been a very steady theme for the past two years or so, especially.
I've been really discouraged.
For about two years straight, I slowly kept losing all the things that I thought defined me.
I failed at school. I couldn't motivate myself. I lost a lot of friendships. I lost multiple communities, in a way. I couldn't work, not even really just for summer harvest. My creativity kept diminishing. I lost hope in life, and trust in God.
The end of this past May, I turned 20. And in the back of my head, a phrase kept repeating. "You're not a teenager anymore. You need to be an adult now, and you can't handle it."
I started getting panic attacks. I was driving during the first one. I felt the surge of anxiety and tried to calm down, but then I had compulsions to drive into the ditch, or a telephone pole. Alarmed, I called my mom on hands-free. My limbs started going numb.
I thought I was dying of a heart attack.
I turned around and sat in a McDonald's parking lot until someone could pick me up.
It was a scary experience.
Afterwards my body was completely drained, like I had just run up a mountain without any food or water. I was honestly just glad to be safe, and glad for a family that was available to help me.
I kept getting panic attacks without knowing why. I would lie on my couch, immobile, while spasms of tension and numbness ran through my body.
Eventually I realized that all this tension was from the pressure I was putting on myself about my age. The attacks subsided, but I still wasn't doing well.
I decided it was time to reconnect with God. I had been avoiding Him off and on for the past couple years. I didn't really know how to pray, so I set my phone to record my conversations with God. It was a tangible way to remind myself that Someone is listening when I pray, and it really helped me not just stop talking, or get distracted, in the middle of praying.
I also started walking in the middle of the night, admiring the stars and recording myself talking to God.
I told Him how disappointed and fed up I was with my life. I told Him I didn't see things improving. Probably not ever, but definitely not anytime soon. I told Him I was done reading my Bible, and done doing all the good Christian things that I tried to force myself into, out of guilt. I was tired of guilt. I was tired of trying so hard and just being beat down. Repeatedly.
I said every raw, honest, anti-religious, hurt, 'blasphemous' thing that was on my mind.
And I was shocked when I would come talk to God every night, knowing something I hadn't known or believed before. He was speaking to me and teaching me, and I had no idea how.
I thought I was being rebellious, and God was instead honoring me for my honesty.
Hanging out with God in the middle of the night became my retreat. I would dress up and go talk with Him. And I felt peace, for the first time in a long time. A sort of unhurried happiness, without the desperation that I'm used to whenever I try to hang onto a good mood. There was no time limit to this new kind of happiness. It wasn't transient, or so fragile that I had to handle it carefully.
And then one night, I pulled a chair out into my yard, sat down, and asked God what kind of relationship we're supposed to have. How do I relate to the All-Powerful Infinite? I tried fear for about 20 years, and it was futile. How else do people approach God?
"What kind of relationship are we supposed to have?" I asked.
"We're friends."
A whole bunch of implications flooded me as He kept explaining.
He wants to spend time with me. And when I miss my devotions, it's less like angering the God of the Universe, and more like missing coffee with a friend. The constant fear of being abandoned for messing up- it's not really valid.
"Ok," I told God, "but I won't be able to put this information into practice right now."
His response relieved me of even more pressure.
"It's ok. You can just have the information for now, so that when you need it, you already know that it's true."
I've been trying to be more open and casual with God ever since. Sometimes we still don't really talk. But, I'm not scared to talk to Him anymore, and I'm (usually) not actually trying to avoid Him.
A couple other things have changed. I still don't really read my Bible right now, but I don't feel pressure about it. I also told God that sometimes when I'm not doing well, I don't talk to anybody. And He might be included in that. I'm also trying to not put so much pressure on myself about how I'm representing God to others. I trust Him to guide me, and I'm trying to be open and listen to Him. I guess mostly I've just been realizing more and more that I can let God be responsible for my life, and I can just settle in to whatever He's already doing. I don't wanna miss it.
Beyond all that, I may be having the opportunity very soon to get some medical stuff figured out. Last time I tried meds, it pushed me over some very scary edges. But it's been almost three years since then, I think. I'm willing to give it another shot. I'm tired of sort of subsisting, and resenting it the whole way through. But I'm also a little nervous, because meds might not help, and I might be back to square one of trying different things for years with no results. Or, I might be pushed over the edge again, and end up in a really scary or traumatizing situation again. It took me this long to recover from last time, at least enough to try again.
I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but I also slightly feel like my entire life and future depends on getting some help for my mental issues.
I also feel like the past couple years, God has been slowly taking away all the things that I thought were me. He's been slowly and painfully stripping it all back to the bare bones of my true self. And this past summer has given me some hope that maybe now is the time when He's starting to build me back up again, into the plan He has for me.
It would be nice if all this suffering could calm down for a while.
If that's not the plan, I really hope I have the resiliency not to lose my self or my faith in the process.
God, help me. I love You either way, but I'm so tired, and I want to learn what You have planned for me. I don't have many of my own plans left. The only idea I do have, I'm trying to fully give to You. Please don't take anything more from me. I don't think there's anything left except what I'm already trying to give up to You.
I'm trying not to be too optimistic, but I really hope now can be a time of growth. I want to be done growing away from the external, wrong things and ideas I had, and be able to start growing into whatever You have for me to do. I want a purpose to fulfill, but one that's Yours, not mine.
No matter what's coming next, please help me. I am so tired of distancing myself from you; I'm tired of that whole cycle. Thank You for changing my mind. Please keep teaching me.
Amen.
~Dolly
So, here's another shot. Hopefully you guys actually end up seeing it. I'm going to try to just tell you where I'm currently at in life, and what God's been up to with me, and I'm gonna try to not push any particular point or narrative.
I'm not sure where to start.
I don't even know when I last posted.
I guess I'll just start with a broad overview.
I have been living on my own for over two years now, almost three, I think. The last two years especially have been very difficult. I don't know if anyone remembers my post from a few years ago about grieving myself and the dreams that I had to give up, but that general idea has been a very steady theme for the past two years or so, especially.
I've been really discouraged.
For about two years straight, I slowly kept losing all the things that I thought defined me.
I failed at school. I couldn't motivate myself. I lost a lot of friendships. I lost multiple communities, in a way. I couldn't work, not even really just for summer harvest. My creativity kept diminishing. I lost hope in life, and trust in God.
The end of this past May, I turned 20. And in the back of my head, a phrase kept repeating. "You're not a teenager anymore. You need to be an adult now, and you can't handle it."
I started getting panic attacks. I was driving during the first one. I felt the surge of anxiety and tried to calm down, but then I had compulsions to drive into the ditch, or a telephone pole. Alarmed, I called my mom on hands-free. My limbs started going numb.
I thought I was dying of a heart attack.
I turned around and sat in a McDonald's parking lot until someone could pick me up.
It was a scary experience.
Afterwards my body was completely drained, like I had just run up a mountain without any food or water. I was honestly just glad to be safe, and glad for a family that was available to help me.
I kept getting panic attacks without knowing why. I would lie on my couch, immobile, while spasms of tension and numbness ran through my body.
Eventually I realized that all this tension was from the pressure I was putting on myself about my age. The attacks subsided, but I still wasn't doing well.
I decided it was time to reconnect with God. I had been avoiding Him off and on for the past couple years. I didn't really know how to pray, so I set my phone to record my conversations with God. It was a tangible way to remind myself that Someone is listening when I pray, and it really helped me not just stop talking, or get distracted, in the middle of praying.
I also started walking in the middle of the night, admiring the stars and recording myself talking to God.
I told Him how disappointed and fed up I was with my life. I told Him I didn't see things improving. Probably not ever, but definitely not anytime soon. I told Him I was done reading my Bible, and done doing all the good Christian things that I tried to force myself into, out of guilt. I was tired of guilt. I was tired of trying so hard and just being beat down. Repeatedly.
I said every raw, honest, anti-religious, hurt, 'blasphemous' thing that was on my mind.
And I was shocked when I would come talk to God every night, knowing something I hadn't known or believed before. He was speaking to me and teaching me, and I had no idea how.
I thought I was being rebellious, and God was instead honoring me for my honesty.
Hanging out with God in the middle of the night became my retreat. I would dress up and go talk with Him. And I felt peace, for the first time in a long time. A sort of unhurried happiness, without the desperation that I'm used to whenever I try to hang onto a good mood. There was no time limit to this new kind of happiness. It wasn't transient, or so fragile that I had to handle it carefully.
And then one night, I pulled a chair out into my yard, sat down, and asked God what kind of relationship we're supposed to have. How do I relate to the All-Powerful Infinite? I tried fear for about 20 years, and it was futile. How else do people approach God?
"What kind of relationship are we supposed to have?" I asked.
"We're friends."
A whole bunch of implications flooded me as He kept explaining.
He wants to spend time with me. And when I miss my devotions, it's less like angering the God of the Universe, and more like missing coffee with a friend. The constant fear of being abandoned for messing up- it's not really valid.
"Ok," I told God, "but I won't be able to put this information into practice right now."
His response relieved me of even more pressure.
"It's ok. You can just have the information for now, so that when you need it, you already know that it's true."
I've been trying to be more open and casual with God ever since. Sometimes we still don't really talk. But, I'm not scared to talk to Him anymore, and I'm (usually) not actually trying to avoid Him.
A couple other things have changed. I still don't really read my Bible right now, but I don't feel pressure about it. I also told God that sometimes when I'm not doing well, I don't talk to anybody. And He might be included in that. I'm also trying to not put so much pressure on myself about how I'm representing God to others. I trust Him to guide me, and I'm trying to be open and listen to Him. I guess mostly I've just been realizing more and more that I can let God be responsible for my life, and I can just settle in to whatever He's already doing. I don't wanna miss it.
Beyond all that, I may be having the opportunity very soon to get some medical stuff figured out. Last time I tried meds, it pushed me over some very scary edges. But it's been almost three years since then, I think. I'm willing to give it another shot. I'm tired of sort of subsisting, and resenting it the whole way through. But I'm also a little nervous, because meds might not help, and I might be back to square one of trying different things for years with no results. Or, I might be pushed over the edge again, and end up in a really scary or traumatizing situation again. It took me this long to recover from last time, at least enough to try again.
I'm trying not to get my hopes up, but I also slightly feel like my entire life and future depends on getting some help for my mental issues.
I also feel like the past couple years, God has been slowly taking away all the things that I thought were me. He's been slowly and painfully stripping it all back to the bare bones of my true self. And this past summer has given me some hope that maybe now is the time when He's starting to build me back up again, into the plan He has for me.
It would be nice if all this suffering could calm down for a while.
If that's not the plan, I really hope I have the resiliency not to lose my self or my faith in the process.
God, help me. I love You either way, but I'm so tired, and I want to learn what You have planned for me. I don't have many of my own plans left. The only idea I do have, I'm trying to fully give to You. Please don't take anything more from me. I don't think there's anything left except what I'm already trying to give up to You.
I'm trying not to be too optimistic, but I really hope now can be a time of growth. I want to be done growing away from the external, wrong things and ideas I had, and be able to start growing into whatever You have for me to do. I want a purpose to fulfill, but one that's Yours, not mine.
No matter what's coming next, please help me. I am so tired of distancing myself from you; I'm tired of that whole cycle. Thank You for changing my mind. Please keep teaching me.
Amen.
~Dolly
Resolute
This month has been pretty great for me so far. New Year's didn't do anything for me, I think my brain is now wired to think on a monthly basis, not a yearly one. So instead of raving about how 2019 is off to a great start, I will simply say that so far, January seems to be going well.
I meant to spend time at the end of December reflecting over 2018, and figuring out who I want to be in 2019. But I am always late, so it didn't happen until maybe a week ago. I made a pretty little page in my bullet journal, got out a trusty mechanical pencil, and started writing. First I started with my reflections on the key points of the past year, as they stood out to me.
I think 2018 was a year of unexpectedly significant achievements.
I called the suicide hotline.
I didn't die.
I started volunteering at an animal shelter.
I learned to manage money
I survived multiple codependent-attempting relationships at once.
My inter-family relationships improved! ( I'm treating others in a more healthy way.)
I want 2018 to be a year of newfound maturity.
I want to broaden my horizons mentally and physically.
I want to make choices, not regrets. (I really like this one!)
I want to be wrong sometimes. To be ok being fallible.
I want to remember that God is in charge.
I will trust Him to be good, more.
I want to spend less time 'on-screen'.
I want to spend my time intentionally and wisely.
I want to cultivate more good relationships.
I want to be more consistent.
And those are my thoughts on 2018/19. I realize that there are a lot of words for someone who "doesn't care" about New Year's this past month. but I don't think this is about New Year's, so much as it is about me just taking stock and looking ahead.
That's all I have.
Oh! My singular resolution is to keep things realistic. I'm tired of setting goals for myself, that aren't achievable, and then getting burned out or discouraged. So, I'ma try to avoid doing that this year. And for the rest of my life as well.
I guess that's why New Year's doesn't seem that important to me. Setting temporary goals doesn't make that much sense. I would much rather set goals to grow, that will change how I live going forward. I want lifelong changes, that will help me be healthier and live more of what I believe.
That's all I've got!
~Dolly.
I meant to spend time at the end of December reflecting over 2018, and figuring out who I want to be in 2019. But I am always late, so it didn't happen until maybe a week ago. I made a pretty little page in my bullet journal, got out a trusty mechanical pencil, and started writing. First I started with my reflections on the key points of the past year, as they stood out to me.
I think 2018 was a year of painful growth.
I started understanding grace more.
I stopped beating myself up as much.
I prioritized relationships and reached out to people.
I asked for help.
I took better care of my body and mind.
I didn't force others to suffer with me.
I made myself be a bit braver.
I didn't take things as personally.
I prioritized healthier eating.
I started being more mindful in my struggles and circumstances.
I learned to stand up for myself a bit more.
I think 2018 was a year of unexpectedly significant achievements.
I called the suicide hotline.
I didn't die.
I started volunteering at an animal shelter.
I learned to manage money
I survived multiple codependent-attempting relationships at once.
My inter-family relationships improved! ( I'm treating others in a more healthy way.)
I want 2018 to be a year of newfound maturity.
I want to broaden my horizons mentally and physically.
I want to make choices, not regrets. (I really like this one!)
I want to be wrong sometimes. To be ok being fallible.
I want to remember that God is in charge.
I will trust Him to be good, more.
I want to spend less time 'on-screen'.
I want to spend my time intentionally and wisely.
I want to cultivate more good relationships.
I want to be more consistent.
And those are my thoughts on 2018/19. I realize that there are a lot of words for someone who "doesn't care" about New Year's this past month. but I don't think this is about New Year's, so much as it is about me just taking stock and looking ahead.
That's all I have.
Oh! My singular resolution is to keep things realistic. I'm tired of setting goals for myself, that aren't achievable, and then getting burned out or discouraged. So, I'ma try to avoid doing that this year. And for the rest of my life as well.
I guess that's why New Year's doesn't seem that important to me. Setting temporary goals doesn't make that much sense. I would much rather set goals to grow, that will change how I live going forward. I want lifelong changes, that will help me be healthier and live more of what I believe.
That's all I've got!
~Dolly.
Investments
About a week ago I spent the weekend with some friends up in Washington. I haven't visited them for at least a year. Being with them made me realize that they've influenced me. In a somewhat small, but also really impactful way.
They believe in healthy eating. And they will spend extra money to eat what they consider to be good food.
It's an investment in health.
When I first visited my friends over a year ago, I had just barely moved out. I hadn't figured anything out yet. I was eating most meals with my family, whenever I could, and eating frozen burritos the rest of the time.
But seeing their lifestyle really impressed me. And now I spend quite a bit of my income on food. I have come to realize that if I don't have food that is easy to prepare and makes me feel good, I don't eat. Period. Eating is just kind of difficult for me. So I put in the effort ahead of time, to make sure that I can keep my body fueled and ready to be used. Otherwise I have no energy and feel sick.
That's how my cooking adventures started. They have grown from there. Now, I not only buy fancy, expensive food that I like to eat, I try to buy at least one interesting new thing a month. And I buy ice cream once a month.
I love sourdough bread, real sourdough, not sour dough flavored. In the big round loaves with lots of crust. I love flavored goat and cream cheeses, because they add a quick punch of flavor to whatever sandwich or pasta or anything that I add them to. I love trying different vinaigrettes and dried fruits on my salads. I like fancy juices that come in unusual flavors, because they help me get enough fruits in my diet, and keep me hydrated. I'm really bad at drinking water.
I really like good food. It's an investment in my health, and also my life. Food gives me energy and a chance to experiment and be creative.
It's worth the time and money.
I've been trying to learn to take this mindset into other areas of my life.
For instance, I spend time working on making my journal functional and enjoyable to look at. If it is ugly or overwhelming or badly laid out, I won't use it. And then I won't be able to keep track of how I am doing in life.
Over this past year, I've been learning a lot more about investing in relationships. If I don't prioritize spending time with other people, the thoughts in my brain become overwhelming and I get lost. I don't like losing myself. So, I've worked to build on the relationships I have, and branch out into making new ones. I try to reconnect with cousins and neighbors I haven't seen for a while. I let go of hurts that don't really matter. and I invite people over even when my house is a mess.
It takes a lot of energy. But the payoff of a genuine friendship is well worth it. It's an investment in my mental and emotional/relational health. It's an investment in community.
There are some areas of my life that still need an application of investment mindset.
I have a lot of trouble making myself do things that will make me feel better later, but that require work now.
It's hard to wash dishes when I can watch YouTube and no one will call me out. But a pile of dishes will give me anxiety, and it will start to smell bad, and then I will have to scrub slimy, stinky gunk out of my pans.
It's hard to fold laundry when I could just leave it in the hamper and dig through it later. Or to put dirty things in a hamper when I can just throw them on the floor.
I could go on about how much I dislike doing chores.
But, because I'm a Christian, I have to make everything spiritual. Just kidding.
But honestly, I really wish I could remember to invest more in my relationship with God. I tend to not feel good enough, so I avoid him for a while. Or I'm tired, so I don't really prioritize hanging out with him. And then I wonder why I have zero motivation and don't know what to do in life.
I find that when I hang out with God even when I'm not feeling good, he might not show me too many new things, but I still find encouragement. Like, I was reading in Ezra or Nehemiah the other day, and the way they prayed was similar to how I pray sometimes, and I felt validated.
That's not a huge spiritual insight, but it's nice to know. I can't brag about it, or feel like I'm smarter or wiser than everybody else, but I feel good knowing that the way I approach God is ok.
The problem is, I can't pre-arrange my relationship with God. I can pre-plan meals when I know I'm going to be tired, or buy freezer foods for when I'm depressed. But I can't stock up on prayer or Bible reading, and coast through it on the bad times.
Bummer.
Now, I think I've stalled long enough. I have work tomorrow. Not actual work, volunteer work. But I still have to leave tomorrow morning.
So, it is time for me to go hang out with God and then sleep.
Even though I don't particularly feel like it.
It's an investment in my spiritual health. In my future. And in my overall well-being.
Goodnight.
~Dolly
They believe in healthy eating. And they will spend extra money to eat what they consider to be good food.
It's an investment in health.
When I first visited my friends over a year ago, I had just barely moved out. I hadn't figured anything out yet. I was eating most meals with my family, whenever I could, and eating frozen burritos the rest of the time.
But seeing their lifestyle really impressed me. And now I spend quite a bit of my income on food. I have come to realize that if I don't have food that is easy to prepare and makes me feel good, I don't eat. Period. Eating is just kind of difficult for me. So I put in the effort ahead of time, to make sure that I can keep my body fueled and ready to be used. Otherwise I have no energy and feel sick.
That's how my cooking adventures started. They have grown from there. Now, I not only buy fancy, expensive food that I like to eat, I try to buy at least one interesting new thing a month. And I buy ice cream once a month.
I love sourdough bread, real sourdough, not sour dough flavored. In the big round loaves with lots of crust. I love flavored goat and cream cheeses, because they add a quick punch of flavor to whatever sandwich or pasta or anything that I add them to. I love trying different vinaigrettes and dried fruits on my salads. I like fancy juices that come in unusual flavors, because they help me get enough fruits in my diet, and keep me hydrated. I'm really bad at drinking water.
I really like good food. It's an investment in my health, and also my life. Food gives me energy and a chance to experiment and be creative.
It's worth the time and money.
I've been trying to learn to take this mindset into other areas of my life.
For instance, I spend time working on making my journal functional and enjoyable to look at. If it is ugly or overwhelming or badly laid out, I won't use it. And then I won't be able to keep track of how I am doing in life.
Over this past year, I've been learning a lot more about investing in relationships. If I don't prioritize spending time with other people, the thoughts in my brain become overwhelming and I get lost. I don't like losing myself. So, I've worked to build on the relationships I have, and branch out into making new ones. I try to reconnect with cousins and neighbors I haven't seen for a while. I let go of hurts that don't really matter. and I invite people over even when my house is a mess.
It takes a lot of energy. But the payoff of a genuine friendship is well worth it. It's an investment in my mental and emotional/relational health. It's an investment in community.
There are some areas of my life that still need an application of investment mindset.
I have a lot of trouble making myself do things that will make me feel better later, but that require work now.
It's hard to wash dishes when I can watch YouTube and no one will call me out. But a pile of dishes will give me anxiety, and it will start to smell bad, and then I will have to scrub slimy, stinky gunk out of my pans.
It's hard to fold laundry when I could just leave it in the hamper and dig through it later. Or to put dirty things in a hamper when I can just throw them on the floor.
I could go on about how much I dislike doing chores.
But, because I'm a Christian, I have to make everything spiritual. Just kidding.
But honestly, I really wish I could remember to invest more in my relationship with God. I tend to not feel good enough, so I avoid him for a while. Or I'm tired, so I don't really prioritize hanging out with him. And then I wonder why I have zero motivation and don't know what to do in life.
I find that when I hang out with God even when I'm not feeling good, he might not show me too many new things, but I still find encouragement. Like, I was reading in Ezra or Nehemiah the other day, and the way they prayed was similar to how I pray sometimes, and I felt validated.
That's not a huge spiritual insight, but it's nice to know. I can't brag about it, or feel like I'm smarter or wiser than everybody else, but I feel good knowing that the way I approach God is ok.
The problem is, I can't pre-arrange my relationship with God. I can pre-plan meals when I know I'm going to be tired, or buy freezer foods for when I'm depressed. But I can't stock up on prayer or Bible reading, and coast through it on the bad times.
Bummer.
Now, I think I've stalled long enough. I have work tomorrow. Not actual work, volunteer work. But I still have to leave tomorrow morning.
So, it is time for me to go hang out with God and then sleep.
Even though I don't particularly feel like it.
It's an investment in my spiritual health. In my future. And in my overall well-being.
Goodnight.
~Dolly
My Story
I haven't posted anything for a while. I've had some ideas for posts and things bouncing around in my head, but could never quite flesh them out. Sorry for the hiatus. I don't know if it's ending, but it is having a break right now. Because obviously, there's a post up. You're reading it at this moment.
I don't think this is one of my normal posts. Usually I write about my reflections, or what is currently happening in my life. But today I want to tell you my story. I think it's important. Not that I have a particularly special story, but that it's important for everyone to share their story with at least someone. Even the Bible says that the way God's people have victory over Satan is because of Jesus' blood, and because they tell their stories.
so... Hi! My name is Dolly. I was born in 1999 in Wilsonville Oregon, to my parents.
They are both Christians, and I grew up in a pretty loving, caring environment. One of the things that I was always taught was the idea of sympathy, and/or empathy. So, when I started going to school, I was always friends with the kids who didn't have friends. Usually they didn't have friends because they were weird. But, I couldn't stand the thought of them feeling lonely, so I would hang out with them. I just hated to see anyone around me suffering.
As I started getting a bit older, and life got more complicated, I started becoming more aware of my own personal conflicts and hurts, and started hating my own suffering more than anything.
I think a lot of this was because I always put pressure on myself to perform. I wanted people to approve of me, I felt like I had to make sure I was holding everything together, and not causing any one extra stress or trouble.
when I was around 13, my natural tendencies to be high-strung, started spiraling into a very intense anxiety and depression. I didn't understand what was going on, and I felt extremely helpless and frustrated. I started developing this attitude that if God was going to leave me to deal with this, I didn't want anything to do with Him, either.
This led to a very brief but toxic period of atheism. I was feeling even more pressure to handle everything by myself, and I couldn't. I was emotionally out of control, showering hurt towards myself and towards other people.
One night I went downstairs to talk to my parents, when I should have been sleeping. This was one of my favorite activities. As I was talking, I finally just gave up. Not in the sense of giving up and not trying, but I just finally acknowledge the fact that whatever was going on, I couldn't handle it. It was just too much. And from my upbringing, I knew that Jesus can handle anything. He kind of already did, by taking all of our problems and hurt, and the way we hurt others, and dying under that weight. And it still couldn't hold him down, and he came back to life, and he is alive now.
So, I finally handed everything over to God.
Not much changed, in a way. I have never been a thriver. But I am a survivor. I think because of that, I can tend to believe that I am worthless, and useless. I'm not accomplishing anything meaningful: I'm just barely getting by. But according to God, that's not true. Everyday is the new chance, and I believe that if I am here, it's because God has a plan. So, I have a job to do. And that's really an important part of what I believe.
I think the most important part of my belief system, to me, though, is the idea of Heaven. I just can't wait to go home. To finally be in a place where I fully belong, and I am finally able to recognize that I am loved. Dealing with depression and anxiety, that is a very hard thing for me to acknowledge and believe down here. I just can't really feel/believe it.
I'm just really looking forward to finally being free from all the hurt and sickness that keeps holding me down.
Most of the time, my life is absolutely bleak and miserable. I hate it. A lot.
But what keeps me going is this; The idea that I do have a purpose, and especially The idea that I have a home. Not here, but a place where things will get better, and they will be that way forever.
So, that's pretty much who I am, and how I got here, and what's important to me.
I don't think I'm sharing this to accomplish anything, but here it is. I hope it makes sense. And doesn't sound too spiritual or something.
~Dolly
I don't think this is one of my normal posts. Usually I write about my reflections, or what is currently happening in my life. But today I want to tell you my story. I think it's important. Not that I have a particularly special story, but that it's important for everyone to share their story with at least someone. Even the Bible says that the way God's people have victory over Satan is because of Jesus' blood, and because they tell their stories.
so... Hi! My name is Dolly. I was born in 1999 in Wilsonville Oregon, to my parents.
They are both Christians, and I grew up in a pretty loving, caring environment. One of the things that I was always taught was the idea of sympathy, and/or empathy. So, when I started going to school, I was always friends with the kids who didn't have friends. Usually they didn't have friends because they were weird. But, I couldn't stand the thought of them feeling lonely, so I would hang out with them. I just hated to see anyone around me suffering.
As I started getting a bit older, and life got more complicated, I started becoming more aware of my own personal conflicts and hurts, and started hating my own suffering more than anything.
I think a lot of this was because I always put pressure on myself to perform. I wanted people to approve of me, I felt like I had to make sure I was holding everything together, and not causing any one extra stress or trouble.
when I was around 13, my natural tendencies to be high-strung, started spiraling into a very intense anxiety and depression. I didn't understand what was going on, and I felt extremely helpless and frustrated. I started developing this attitude that if God was going to leave me to deal with this, I didn't want anything to do with Him, either.
This led to a very brief but toxic period of atheism. I was feeling even more pressure to handle everything by myself, and I couldn't. I was emotionally out of control, showering hurt towards myself and towards other people.
One night I went downstairs to talk to my parents, when I should have been sleeping. This was one of my favorite activities. As I was talking, I finally just gave up. Not in the sense of giving up and not trying, but I just finally acknowledge the fact that whatever was going on, I couldn't handle it. It was just too much. And from my upbringing, I knew that Jesus can handle anything. He kind of already did, by taking all of our problems and hurt, and the way we hurt others, and dying under that weight. And it still couldn't hold him down, and he came back to life, and he is alive now.
So, I finally handed everything over to God.
Not much changed, in a way. I have never been a thriver. But I am a survivor. I think because of that, I can tend to believe that I am worthless, and useless. I'm not accomplishing anything meaningful: I'm just barely getting by. But according to God, that's not true. Everyday is the new chance, and I believe that if I am here, it's because God has a plan. So, I have a job to do. And that's really an important part of what I believe.
I think the most important part of my belief system, to me, though, is the idea of Heaven. I just can't wait to go home. To finally be in a place where I fully belong, and I am finally able to recognize that I am loved. Dealing with depression and anxiety, that is a very hard thing for me to acknowledge and believe down here. I just can't really feel/believe it.
I'm just really looking forward to finally being free from all the hurt and sickness that keeps holding me down.
Most of the time, my life is absolutely bleak and miserable. I hate it. A lot.
But what keeps me going is this; The idea that I do have a purpose, and especially The idea that I have a home. Not here, but a place where things will get better, and they will be that way forever.
So, that's pretty much who I am, and how I got here, and what's important to me.
I don't think I'm sharing this to accomplish anything, but here it is. I hope it makes sense. And doesn't sound too spiritual or something.
~Dolly
Coffee and Connecting
I don't know what this post is going to be about, exactly, but there are words swirling around in my head the way visual snippets do before I sketch a new outfit design, so I'm writing. (Or, 'typing,' I guess.)
I've been more creative lately, which is nice. If I'm not sketching, I'm planning room designs, or scrapbooking with Shutterfly, or coming up with new tea blends or coffee creations. Or, in this case, I'm writing. I feel more productive when I can express my creativity like this: doing positive things that help me feel more fulfilled.
It's interesting how all these productive feelings are coming to be, because this is one of the hardest summers I've been through- only second or third to the summer after the crash that killed my grandparents. That summer was the first time I actually contemplated suicide as a distinct, and possibly positive, course of action. This summer is not nearly as bad in that regard.
But I have been feeling incredibly useless in some of the things that matter to me a lot.
Working.
Helping my family.
Investing in relationships.
Taking care of myself.
I've been so anxious most of the time that it hasn't been a great idea for me to work long hours alone. Which is exactly what farm work requires.
My first few years combining were so fulfilling- I was contributing to my family's livelihood- I had worked really hard to get to the point of being able to run equipment. In fact, I tested this combine before my family bought it, because they wanted to get something I could operate. And that is how we acquired a John Deer 9600 Combine that I named "Frank" my first year. Whether my dad liked it or not. 😉
And then, a couple years ago there was a car crash and my grandparents died. My whole family had to work a lot longer and harder that next harvest, because we were two people short. And I was dangerously suicidal and unable to contribute. My mom filled in for me, which meant that she was a full-time farm worker, a full-time mom, and she was feeding, and washing clothes for, and cleaning up after all of us, the rest of the crew. That was the most devastating summer I have ever lived through.
No summer since has been the same.
So, here I am, feeling sorry for myself.
A week or two ago, something shifted. I had been increasingly lashing out at my family and distancing myself from the world in general. Strange how you only see things coming once they've arrived. I had yelled at my brother, and after retreating back into my apartment to cry about it, I realized how much I'd been reverting over the summer.
The past year or two has been crazy transformative for me. I'm almost a different person from the crazy, hurting, verbally-abusive teenager I was a few years ago. And there I was, acting fourteen again.
I apologized that evening. And that night, I prayed. The next morning, I prayed.
And things started getting a little better. I'm still an emotional wreck, but I'm not a black hole anymore. Do you know that feeling? When your internal suffering is so dense it feels like it's dragging the rest of the world in with you? I hate myself when I'm a black hole. Not that that's a good thing, it's just true.
My life isn't all better. I'm not combining today. Instead, I'm writing a blog post and crying. Not exactly feeling like a success at the moment. But I am feeling successful.
I've been reaching out to people, reconnecting. I had my neighbor over for coffee yesterday. I went to lunch with a friend on Sunday. I had my best friend over at ten at night last week for ice cream. (She works late.) I've been making frappuccinos and other (coffee!) drinks for our harvest crew. My latest creation is an adaptation of a Pinterest idea: Iced cold brew with lightly salted cream and homemade caramel. It's gorgeous and delicious. Seriously. Amazing. I brew the cold myself. 😁
I've been teaching my pig to use his ramp and swimming pool.
I've started eating something besides microwaved corn dogs.
Tomorrow I go back to my counselor/therapist.
Life is getting better. Harvest will be over this week, and I will have made it through another one, by the grace of God and the power that coffee has to bring people back together.
Whatever you're dealing with, I'm sorry. If your loved ones are hurting, I'm sorry. If you're hurting, I'm sorry. If you just don't know what to do with yourself right now, I'm sorry. Honestly. I don't say things I don't mean. And I mean this: You can do this. You can survive this. Life doesn't magically fix itself, but the good thing about it is that, no mater what, "This too, shall pass."
That's all I've got. I hope it makes sense and maybe helps a little.
~Dolly
I've been more creative lately, which is nice. If I'm not sketching, I'm planning room designs, or scrapbooking with Shutterfly, or coming up with new tea blends or coffee creations. Or, in this case, I'm writing. I feel more productive when I can express my creativity like this: doing positive things that help me feel more fulfilled.
It's interesting how all these productive feelings are coming to be, because this is one of the hardest summers I've been through- only second or third to the summer after the crash that killed my grandparents. That summer was the first time I actually contemplated suicide as a distinct, and possibly positive, course of action. This summer is not nearly as bad in that regard.
But I have been feeling incredibly useless in some of the things that matter to me a lot.
Working.
Helping my family.
Investing in relationships.
Taking care of myself.
I've been so anxious most of the time that it hasn't been a great idea for me to work long hours alone. Which is exactly what farm work requires.
My first few years combining were so fulfilling- I was contributing to my family's livelihood- I had worked really hard to get to the point of being able to run equipment. In fact, I tested this combine before my family bought it, because they wanted to get something I could operate. And that is how we acquired a John Deer 9600 Combine that I named "Frank" my first year. Whether my dad liked it or not. 😉
And then, a couple years ago there was a car crash and my grandparents died. My whole family had to work a lot longer and harder that next harvest, because we were two people short. And I was dangerously suicidal and unable to contribute. My mom filled in for me, which meant that she was a full-time farm worker, a full-time mom, and she was feeding, and washing clothes for, and cleaning up after all of us, the rest of the crew. That was the most devastating summer I have ever lived through.
No summer since has been the same.
So, here I am, feeling sorry for myself.
A week or two ago, something shifted. I had been increasingly lashing out at my family and distancing myself from the world in general. Strange how you only see things coming once they've arrived. I had yelled at my brother, and after retreating back into my apartment to cry about it, I realized how much I'd been reverting over the summer.
The past year or two has been crazy transformative for me. I'm almost a different person from the crazy, hurting, verbally-abusive teenager I was a few years ago. And there I was, acting fourteen again.
I apologized that evening. And that night, I prayed. The next morning, I prayed.
Lord, I have been having all these crazy emotions, and I've been dragging other people into my suffering. It's not ok. Please help me to not do that today.
And things started getting a little better. I'm still an emotional wreck, but I'm not a black hole anymore. Do you know that feeling? When your internal suffering is so dense it feels like it's dragging the rest of the world in with you? I hate myself when I'm a black hole. Not that that's a good thing, it's just true.
My life isn't all better. I'm not combining today. Instead, I'm writing a blog post and crying. Not exactly feeling like a success at the moment. But I am feeling successful.
I've been reaching out to people, reconnecting. I had my neighbor over for coffee yesterday. I went to lunch with a friend on Sunday. I had my best friend over at ten at night last week for ice cream. (She works late.) I've been making frappuccinos and other (coffee!) drinks for our harvest crew. My latest creation is an adaptation of a Pinterest idea: Iced cold brew with lightly salted cream and homemade caramel. It's gorgeous and delicious. Seriously. Amazing. I brew the cold myself. 😁
 |
| Not the best picture. It tastes MUCH better than this looks. |
I've been teaching my pig to use his ramp and swimming pool.
 |
| This is Cornelius. He is a KuneKune, which is a mini breed from New Zealand. He is bad at using ramps. |
I've started eating something besides microwaved corn dogs.
 |
| Mushrooms, egg, sausage(?), and avocado on a croissant; sprinkled with salt, pepper, and parmesan. |
Tomorrow I go back to my counselor/therapist.
Life is getting better. Harvest will be over this week, and I will have made it through another one, by the grace of God and the power that coffee has to bring people back together.
Whatever you're dealing with, I'm sorry. If your loved ones are hurting, I'm sorry. If you're hurting, I'm sorry. If you just don't know what to do with yourself right now, I'm sorry. Honestly. I don't say things I don't mean. And I mean this: You can do this. You can survive this. Life doesn't magically fix itself, but the good thing about it is that, no mater what, "This too, shall pass."
That's all I've got. I hope it makes sense and maybe helps a little.
~Dolly
Learning Things
I've never been a big fan of object lessons. They're usually very moralistic and preachy, and not very entertaining. And I always feel like the point of object lesson should be to teach by entertaining in some form or another. Or at least, hold one's interest.
But the past couple weeks I feel like God has been showing me a couple things through object lessons. Not stories that people tell, but things that I have seen.
The first case happened when Mom and I were driving through downtown Eugene. There was a sign holder on the side of the road, and usually those people are very pitiful. But he had a sign that said, "Smile, Life's too short to have a ****y attitude." And he genuinely seemed to be embodying this statement. He also had a dog that he offered to bring out for Mom and I to pet, which we declined because the dog was sleeping and we did not wish to wake him.
As I looked at this man, it really struck me. Here is someone that the world looks down on. And yet he's smiling, and he seems satisfied with where he's at. That's something I want to learn. Even if the rest of the world looks down on me: for the way I dress, for how I live, or for my morals, I want to be able to just look up at everybody else and smile.
Another thing that stood out to me happened while we were down in Mexico a couple weeks ago. I was walking my dog Bailey through the village where we were staying, and there were a lot of dogs in their own homes and yards/kennels. As we were walking down the little street, there was a cacophony of barking and yipping and all sorts of other dog related noises. Bailey noticed them, but crossed to the other side of the road and kept walking without making a peep or even really looking up. I was highly impressed by that. I think that when the rest of the world around me is getting all worked up over things, be they drama, politics or just the newest things to get mad about; I want to not get involved. I want to be able to not bark back, even when everybody around me is yapping their heads off.
A third incident that inspired me also happened down in Mexico. We were there for my cousin's wedding, and apparently there's a tradition where the bride and groom stand a few yards away from each other, each holding a box. Wedding guests put money in the boxes for the couple to take steps towards each other. But a couple of ladies put money into the groom's box and made him step backwards instead. 😁 Afterwards I was talking to Tia Margy, who moved down to Mexico years ago from the States. She was so excited that she had made the groom walk backwards instead of forwards. She had seen a couple of people do that at previous wedding and thought it was fun. So she did it herself this time.
I was so impressed by the joy she had in that simple act. Tia Margy has lived in Mexico for as long as I've known she existed. But she isn't bored with it. She's always excited about a new thing she just learned- a new skill, a new insight into Mexican culture, a new project. Her life could be monotonous if she let it, I guess, but she's never bored. I want to learn to notice the things around me and take interest in them like she does.
That's all.
I hope you're all having fantastic days and looking forward to more of spring and eventually a summer! (I personally am looking forward to my birthday at the end of the month.)
K, byeee!
~Dolly
But the past couple weeks I feel like God has been showing me a couple things through object lessons. Not stories that people tell, but things that I have seen.
The first case happened when Mom and I were driving through downtown Eugene. There was a sign holder on the side of the road, and usually those people are very pitiful. But he had a sign that said, "Smile, Life's too short to have a ****y attitude." And he genuinely seemed to be embodying this statement. He also had a dog that he offered to bring out for Mom and I to pet, which we declined because the dog was sleeping and we did not wish to wake him.
As I looked at this man, it really struck me. Here is someone that the world looks down on. And yet he's smiling, and he seems satisfied with where he's at. That's something I want to learn. Even if the rest of the world looks down on me: for the way I dress, for how I live, or for my morals, I want to be able to just look up at everybody else and smile.
Another thing that stood out to me happened while we were down in Mexico a couple weeks ago. I was walking my dog Bailey through the village where we were staying, and there were a lot of dogs in their own homes and yards/kennels. As we were walking down the little street, there was a cacophony of barking and yipping and all sorts of other dog related noises. Bailey noticed them, but crossed to the other side of the road and kept walking without making a peep or even really looking up. I was highly impressed by that. I think that when the rest of the world around me is getting all worked up over things, be they drama, politics or just the newest things to get mad about; I want to not get involved. I want to be able to not bark back, even when everybody around me is yapping their heads off.
A third incident that inspired me also happened down in Mexico. We were there for my cousin's wedding, and apparently there's a tradition where the bride and groom stand a few yards away from each other, each holding a box. Wedding guests put money in the boxes for the couple to take steps towards each other. But a couple of ladies put money into the groom's box and made him step backwards instead. 😁 Afterwards I was talking to Tia Margy, who moved down to Mexico years ago from the States. She was so excited that she had made the groom walk backwards instead of forwards. She had seen a couple of people do that at previous wedding and thought it was fun. So she did it herself this time.
I was so impressed by the joy she had in that simple act. Tia Margy has lived in Mexico for as long as I've known she existed. But she isn't bored with it. She's always excited about a new thing she just learned- a new skill, a new insight into Mexican culture, a new project. Her life could be monotonous if she let it, I guess, but she's never bored. I want to learn to notice the things around me and take interest in them like she does.
That's all.
I hope you're all having fantastic days and looking forward to more of spring and eventually a summer! (I personally am looking forward to my birthday at the end of the month.)
K, byeee!
~Dolly
"In Our Image"
People love to complicate things. Have you ever noticed that? A slight difference in opinion can lead to hours of useless debate. We get locked into our mindset and start seeing things in black and white, right and wrong. And, of course, our opinion/belief is always the right one.
I think that's why people get all tangled up about Who God Is.
I like to say that we little hooman beans see things as, "either, or," and God is infinite, so He looks at "either" and "or" and just says, "and." He's outside our limited black-and-white viewpoints.
If that makes sense.
I think this is why we get confused about the Trinity idea. I mean, is He three or is He one?
Obviously He's both, but that's hard to understand when we live in a world where something can be three, or one, but not both.
I think I was in middle school or early high school when I first started to get the idea of God being one and three. I remember being at a home school co-op where we had split into two sides, one arguing Muslim beliefs and the other side Christian ones. One of the Islam advocates brought up the issue of Christianity's "three gods" and all the advocates of Christianity went into a tizzy trying to explain themselves all at once. I remember thinking, This is so much simpler than what they're trying to say.
In the bedlam of shouted opinions, no one but the teacher heard mine, but she affirmed it, which gave me confidence.
My thought was this:
We are made "in God's image." People take that to mean all sorts of things, such as physical appearance, a knowledge of morals, etc. But I think it means the way our bodies, minds, and souls/hearts/emotions are put together. We have three parts, but each of us is only one person.
For instance, I can be washing dishes, crying over a friend's breakup, and thinking about my plans for the weekend all at once. I'm doing three completely unrelated things, but that doesn't mean my brain has hopped out of my skull or my soul is somewhere far away.
That is, I believe, how the Trinity works.
I tend to think of Father God as the mind of God. He's the planner, the logic behind the entirety of everything.
Jesus is obviously the body- the physical form/aspect of God.
And I'd see the Holy Spirit as God's form of soul. He's the part of God that softens hearts and heals emotional scars/wounds.
Some people would split this up into different parts such as "body, soul, and spirit." I don't want to get all technical here. In fact, I have no guarantee that this idea is theologically correct at all!
But it's the only explanation of the Trinity of God that I've heard that is relatively understandable (at least to me) without being oversimplified. Obviously God is bigger and more complex than any "hooman bean," but since we are "made in God's image," which literally just means we resemble Him, I feel like looking at the way He put us together can help us understand how He operates.
Again, I'm not a well-versed theologian or anything. These are just my thoughts, but I think maybe God gave them to me, so I'll pass them on just in case.
~Dolly
I think that's why people get all tangled up about Who God Is.
I like to say that we little hooman beans see things as, "either, or," and God is infinite, so He looks at "either" and "or" and just says, "and." He's outside our limited black-and-white viewpoints.
If that makes sense.
I think this is why we get confused about the Trinity idea. I mean, is He three or is He one?
Obviously He's both, but that's hard to understand when we live in a world where something can be three, or one, but not both.
I think I was in middle school or early high school when I first started to get the idea of God being one and three. I remember being at a home school co-op where we had split into two sides, one arguing Muslim beliefs and the other side Christian ones. One of the Islam advocates brought up the issue of Christianity's "three gods" and all the advocates of Christianity went into a tizzy trying to explain themselves all at once. I remember thinking, This is so much simpler than what they're trying to say.
In the bedlam of shouted opinions, no one but the teacher heard mine, but she affirmed it, which gave me confidence.
My thought was this:
We are made "in God's image." People take that to mean all sorts of things, such as physical appearance, a knowledge of morals, etc. But I think it means the way our bodies, minds, and souls/hearts/emotions are put together. We have three parts, but each of us is only one person.
For instance, I can be washing dishes, crying over a friend's breakup, and thinking about my plans for the weekend all at once. I'm doing three completely unrelated things, but that doesn't mean my brain has hopped out of my skull or my soul is somewhere far away.
That is, I believe, how the Trinity works.
I tend to think of Father God as the mind of God. He's the planner, the logic behind the entirety of everything.
Jesus is obviously the body- the physical form/aspect of God.
And I'd see the Holy Spirit as God's form of soul. He's the part of God that softens hearts and heals emotional scars/wounds.
Some people would split this up into different parts such as "body, soul, and spirit." I don't want to get all technical here. In fact, I have no guarantee that this idea is theologically correct at all!
But it's the only explanation of the Trinity of God that I've heard that is relatively understandable (at least to me) without being oversimplified. Obviously God is bigger and more complex than any "hooman bean," but since we are "made in God's image," which literally just means we resemble Him, I feel like looking at the way He put us together can help us understand how He operates.
Again, I'm not a well-versed theologian or anything. These are just my thoughts, but I think maybe God gave them to me, so I'll pass them on just in case.
~Dolly
Risen
I love Easter. Chocolate, bunnies, . . . chocolate bunnies . . . and overall hoppiness. Family photos, suits and dresses. A cross and a tomb. . .
I was about to say "life and death," but I realized that's backwards from God. He usually works that way.
But we see a certain order of things: We live and then we die.
In reality, we start dying at birth. Our bodies grow and then decay, but all the time we stay on this rotting planet. Until we finally die . . . and then we start to live! Like, I seriously can NOT wait for Heaven, ya'll! I mean, I don't plan to kill myself, but I also don't wanna stay on this Earth any longer than I have to.
Some people think I'm morbid when I say that, but all I want to do is stop dying and start living! I'm tired of being sick and weak, both physically and emotionally. Tired of being hurt, tired of having to try so hard, every day, to live the way I am meant to.
I'm stinkin' tired!
I think Mary Magdalene got tired too.
Can you imagine how exhaustingly hopeless it must be to be nothing but a shell holding seven demons? To be ignored and looked down on, completely avoided. To just want to feel better. To be unable to fix yourself?
I feel that all the time. I'm not possessed, and I'm not really ostracized, but sometimes I feel like just a shell holding my ridiculous emotions and sad mind. And I can't fix it and I can't just feel better.
But Jesus healed Mary. And she followed Him everywhere.
She listened to Him. She worshiped Him.
And He died! The one thing in her life that had power, the one person she trusted completely. . . He left her. What would happen? Would the demons come back? Would she return to the worthless shell she had been before? She was already looked down on- she couldn't be trusted because she was a woman. But at least she was free inside.
But now Jesus was gone- death had claimed Him and He would never come back. She could never ask all the questions she still didn't have answers to; never again tell Him she loved Him. He had broken her trust by leaving, and she couldn't even tell Him because He was dead. Dead!
So as soon as Sabbath was over she went to Him. She brought the best of her spices and preparations, to do one last thing for the man who had healed her. She went to grieve, and was met with horror.
Someone had taken the body of her Lord!
She ran for help, and when Peter and John had no answers, she collapsed and wept. Angels spoke to her, but that didn't matter in the face of her bitter hurt and grief.
Nothing was right; everything was upside-down. It had been all wrong before, but this was unthinkably tangled up. And then. . .
"Mary."
And she realized that it was true- Jesus is God.
At the moment when all hope is absolutely and utterly obliterated. Jesus lives.
He lives, you guys!
And instead of trying to survive here on this little rock, waiting for, and dreading, the day that everything's over . . . We. Can. Live!
That's what I wanted to say this Easter.
~Dolly
I was about to say "life and death," but I realized that's backwards from God. He usually works that way.
But we see a certain order of things: We live and then we die.
In reality, we start dying at birth. Our bodies grow and then decay, but all the time we stay on this rotting planet. Until we finally die . . . and then we start to live! Like, I seriously can NOT wait for Heaven, ya'll! I mean, I don't plan to kill myself, but I also don't wanna stay on this Earth any longer than I have to.
Some people think I'm morbid when I say that, but all I want to do is stop dying and start living! I'm tired of being sick and weak, both physically and emotionally. Tired of being hurt, tired of having to try so hard, every day, to live the way I am meant to.
I'm stinkin' tired!
I think Mary Magdalene got tired too.
Can you imagine how exhaustingly hopeless it must be to be nothing but a shell holding seven demons? To be ignored and looked down on, completely avoided. To just want to feel better. To be unable to fix yourself?
I feel that all the time. I'm not possessed, and I'm not really ostracized, but sometimes I feel like just a shell holding my ridiculous emotions and sad mind. And I can't fix it and I can't just feel better.
But Jesus healed Mary. And she followed Him everywhere.
She listened to Him. She worshiped Him.
And He died! The one thing in her life that had power, the one person she trusted completely. . . He left her. What would happen? Would the demons come back? Would she return to the worthless shell she had been before? She was already looked down on- she couldn't be trusted because she was a woman. But at least she was free inside.
But now Jesus was gone- death had claimed Him and He would never come back. She could never ask all the questions she still didn't have answers to; never again tell Him she loved Him. He had broken her trust by leaving, and she couldn't even tell Him because He was dead. Dead!
So as soon as Sabbath was over she went to Him. She brought the best of her spices and preparations, to do one last thing for the man who had healed her. She went to grieve, and was met with horror.
Someone had taken the body of her Lord!
She ran for help, and when Peter and John had no answers, she collapsed and wept. Angels spoke to her, but that didn't matter in the face of her bitter hurt and grief.
Nothing was right; everything was upside-down. It had been all wrong before, but this was unthinkably tangled up. And then. . .
"Mary."
And she realized that it was true- Jesus is God.
At the moment when all hope is absolutely and utterly obliterated. Jesus lives.
He lives, you guys!
And instead of trying to survive here on this little rock, waiting for, and dreading, the day that everything's over . . . We. Can. Live!
That's what I wanted to say this Easter.
~Dolly
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