A follow up to "The Voice" post (and being a giant mess)

A few months ago I wrote this post about the evil, ugly voice residing in my head. It was born out of a very real place of fear, and came after days and weeks of feeling depleted and frustrated. I was so sick of the self loathing that kept me from being productive that I just dumped all of the raw emotions I was feeling into a post, hit publish, and said "good riddance, dummy!"

It wasn't enough to just write it down. I needed to purge everything and set fire to that stupid voice. I wanted it out and away from me. Clicking "publish" felt like saying a giant, "Screw you!" to all the hateful things I was feeling about myself at that time.

 The post about the voice showed very little restraint. I felt pretty broken and I did almost nothing to sugar coat how I felt versus what I chose to share. I made little effort to talk about some powerful way to crush the voice and only briefly touched on what helped to calm the inner beast. I didn't feel positive before, during or right after writing it, and I stubbornly wanted that to be very apparent.

I wanted it to be clear that I didn't have the solution to my problem. Or better yet, that I logically knew the solution to my problem, but right in that moment I was still struggling to get to it. I was still clawing my way through the mess. There was no shiny bow to wrap up the loose ends; no fist pump freeze frame or soaring music. Nothing to indicate that the story was finished, simply because it wasn't.

I worry that when I use this space to address a personal struggle or vulnerability, that it comes across as if I've already completely worked through it and am now bestowing my "wisdom" on the world.

Ugh.

Even just writing that makes me cringe. It is so easy to fall into the trap of "beginning, middle, end of story." The ability to have that metaphorical shiny bow wrapping everything up is so constant and tempting. And false. The truth is I almost always struggle with the more "serious" (for lack of a better term) posts. Partly because I'm usually still working through whatever topic is on my heart at the time. And partly because I want to be open and honest and convey those things in a way that rings true to who I am.

Nothing in my life is without it's loose ends or messiness. That's easily identifiable if you've spent any time with me in person (or even just passed me in the grocery store as I try to keep my baby from jumping out of the cart while his sisters beg for donuts). But hopefully I'm doing a semi-decent job of expressing that here, in a place where it would be easy for me to paint a different picture instead.

In short, I'm a giant mess without all the answers.

(Thank God)

Five Posts in Five Days (nothing could possibly go wrong)

Dan is currently on his way down to Chicago to spend the week with our church youth group at Jesus People USA. They'll work in soup kitchens and shelters, showing the love of Christ in a very real and tangible way to the people there.  I am home (because Matty refuses to just take care of himself already. You're almost ten months old, kid. Time to get a job and stop living off the man. Or in this case, woman), running a much smaller, intimate kitchen, praying that the tangible way I show Christ's love this week is more hugs and patience, and less pulling my hair out while tossing goldfish crackers at the brood.

Since Dan is gone and my evenings are suddenly devoid of meaning (JOKING. I don't need a man to find meaning in my life. I have Netflix and pizza for that), I've decided to try and post something here every day for the next five days. Which really just shows shockingly bad judgement on my part. The commitment of five posts in five days coupled with the commitment of keeping my children alive and relatively healthy by myself in those same five days is akin to that guy who chose to walk across the Grand Canyon on a tightrope (stupid and irresponsible and also STUPID). But I once owned a Backstreet Boys album, so shockingly bad judgement is kind of my forte (#nsync4eva).

I can't promise you any amazing insight or wisdom (ever, really. So just lower those expectations real quick like, por favor), but I can promise you that I'll talk about how tired I am, how tired my kids are not, and what shows I plan to binge watch once I throw the kids into their cages rooms for the night (Spoiler alert: it's always Parks and Recreation. Always).

Knowing

A reoccurring discussion I have with Dan is whether or not we are actively seeking out the life God has called us to, both as a couple and individually. I spend a lot of time talking about what that might look like, how we might better prioritize our time and energy to achieve it, and reevaluating when it seems like we've lost focus. 

Did you notice how everything I wrote is centered on the things I could do to achieve our "best" life? Yeah, that's a pretty common theme for me.

A lot of people write posts for seven years...

It's been nearly two weeks since my last post (I know you were counting the minutes, don't be shy. Ha. HA. Just humor me). I have one post about half way done and I'm just...stuck. I don't know. I look at it and it's not doing what I want it to, so I'm basically at this point with it

This blog is your home, post! Are you too good for your blog now? Answer me!

Anybody else allowed to watch Adam Sandler (and Chris Farley and David Spade and and and...) movies way too young as a kid and as a result speaks largely in former SNL cast member quotes? No? Just an 8 year old Emily? Alright then. 

ANYWAY. I've been working on above said post for days now, which is crazytown ridiculous. It should not be that hard, but I've entered into that head space where you second (and third and fourth and fifteenth) guess yourself about every. Single. Thing. And while that's SO much fun and I really couldn't think of a better, more productive way to spend my time, I've decided to put it on the back burner for a hot second and try something out. I'm giving myself an hour to type and whatever comes out is what I post (run on sentences and all. Sorry, mom!). 

(So far I've spent a good chunk of my limited amount of time looking for that picture and double checking that I really was only 8 years old when my dad let me first watch Happy Gilmore. So much about my childhood can be explained by these decisions. I will go into more detail in my new book "Emily: Girl with the Tommy Boy Tattoo." Forward by: my future therapist.)

Can my whole post just be an explanation about thinking too hard and pushing myself to write whatever first comes to my brain and 90's movies? Because right now I'm sitting on my back porch, beer in hand, husband by my side, sun setting over our 3 acres, and I'm a million percent more content than I have been all day. I struggled and fought my brain all day and apparently it was all for naught. Poor bugger was just burned out and waiting for me to catch up to that fact. Done. Caught up. 

(Time's up)

An Open Letter to the Childhood Brain

An Open Letter to the Childhood Brain

July 15, 2015 (I originally wrote 2014. This is your fault)

Dear Childhood Brain,

We've been close, if not sometimes wary companions for nearly seven years now. I'm in constant awe of the way you work and the new things you learn every day. But I think it's time we had a heart-to-heart about your methods. Because right now I'm going on roughly five hours of sleep and they seem straight up bonkers. 

Sleep. There's a seemingly simple concept. Let's start there. 

Eight Years of Marriage (Hollaaa!)

Today is Dan and my eight year wedding anniversary (!!!). I was going to try and do a whole "8 Things I've Learned in 8 Years" post and click bait the heck out of it ("I never thought I'd live to see #3!"), but the list was getting long and exhaustive and my kids were getting sick of hearing, "I swear, mom's almost done on the computer. Just 5 more hours. Can you go hang out with your other mom, Netflix, for awhile?" I narrowed it down and boom!

Sippy cups are dumb (but I may be dumber)

Last week I decided to buy Matty his first sippy cup. After spending way too much time deciding, I bought a traditional soft spout lid and one with a straw (this is fascinating, right? Please don't leave me). I brought them home, quickly remembered it is literally impossible to teach someone how to drink from a straw ("Just...suck. I DON'T KNOW.") and settled on the spouted lid as his starter cup.

I tore it out of the package and threw the directions away immediately. Directions, are you kidding me? I have three kids, I think I know how a sippy cup works. The thing you do is literally in the name. Sip from this Cup. Give me some credit, please.