I spent a good portion of my night praying. About what? Anything, everything, for the whole world, for people by name and by group. Why?
First, because everyone deserves to be prayed over. Not in some condescending “you need Jesus” kind of way, I truly believe God can heal and mend anyone’s heart, and provide whatever they’re lacking.
Second, I just couldn’t sleep. So, what better to do than pray? Sometimes I wonder if God let’s me have sleepless nights like these so I can pray feverishly for my people, whether I’ve met them or not. Whether we’re close or not, my heart aches for those in need, and more than not my gosh words don’t feel enough. I know that God knows, though. He can feel what I’m feeling, and He knows how deeply my prayers are felt.
The kids got to lay in my bed and watch Pink Fong videos on our tv while I scrounged myself together for therapy and cleaned up after Yankee.
Let me tell you, regardless of how early I get up, I will always be late. No shame. See, I started my car, already late, and I remembered I desperately needed fuel. Of course every stinking pump was blocked at the one and only gas station we have. There was one truck with a guy of sorts just sitting in his truck, no fuel pumping, no nothing. So, silly me, I went to politely ask if he would kindly move forward if he was done fueling, only to have him let me know he was broken down and couldn’t move. Boy, I felt like an ass. I apologized and walked my happy late self back to the car to wait.
Ya’ll. I managed to pull in hardly 6 minutes late. Thank you, Jesus.
Today, my beautiful and wonderful therapist started something new with me. I wish I could remember what she called it, but I already know we’re on the move to make big things happen. She had me in tears a handful of times, and sent me on my way with homework.
The trauma I encountered as a child caused me to feel like I needed to grow up somewhere around age 8. I never played with toys, or had friends. So, I have no idea how to sit and just play with my kids. It frustrates me and makes me anxious. Our starting point was finding my earliest memory, before the pain, and soaking in all 5 senses of it. Feeling the joy, the carefree, no responsibility, innocence of childhood.
When my kids make too much noise and act out, it makes me anxious. Also a trigger that will be helped with this carefree memory. My job, when I feel these feelings, is to stop, take a deep breath, and succumb to this memory we’ve chosen. We did it w couple times while I was in the office, and guys, I could feel it calming every part of my body and my mind. Doing this will help my brain relearn and change the process it goes through when trying to play and when my munchkins are running ramped.
Therapy is so good. Everyone needs therapy. Everyone. Mental health is important, and if you could feel good all the time, why wouldn’t you want to? What’s stopping you? Is it money, shame, time management? Mental health is a priority, and I think if everyone lived that way, our world might be a little less full of hate and ugly.
I drove a little over an hour north for my appointment, came home to grab the kids and drove a little over an hour west to spend some long overdue time with my sweet mama friend that started me in cloth (thank you, Aimee), and made the drive home around 8:30. The kids are beat. I’m beat. And I can only pray that tonight will bring rest, with only ball practice to have to leave the house for tomorrow. I’m slowly learning to break out of my comfort zone and have longer, more exhausting days so I can actually accomplish a lot of the things I’d like to do. It’s not easy, but it’s worth it. Embracing the chaos will get easier with time, and I, crazy enough, am looking forward to a newer way of life.