Prioritizing mental health in the midst of this pandemic.

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I find myself staring off into space, unable to open my mouth to answer a simple question. I feel frozen in melancholy, stuck in a way I haven’t felt in years. As the weeks turn to months, one thing is very clear: this pandemic has been so very hard on us mentally. Not just inconvenient, but actually dangerous to mental health. Friends of mine who have never struggled with feelings of anxiety, depression, panic are feeling these things for the first time and finding it hard to know where to turn to get help. And still those of us who have known this journey for many years may be be finding ourselves in just the pit we dug ourselves out of many years ago.

We’re faced with a real predicament: protect the physical health of ourselves and others and risk a real mental breakdown or find the safest ways possible to meet our emotional needs while trying to ignore the judgement that might come from those who might assume we are not taking this pandemic seriously. Because the truth is we absolutely are, but we are not willing to die for it.

A friend of mine shared with me in confidence that she “broke down and took her kids to her mother-in-laws”. Her husband is working long hours and she (struggling with anxiety, OCD, and panic attacks) felt she had reached her limit. She admitted that she felt guilty for doing so. She was worried about the ways in which that choice might affect the physical health of those closest to her. She was between a rock and a hard place, trying to choose physical health over mental health in a situation where both could be dire.

Another friend of mine is bipolar, a wonderful mom of two little ones. She makes an effort everyday to keep herself grounded so that doesn’t slide into the hole of depression she knows so well. Sometimes it keeps her down for months, where she’s not even able to text those closest to her. But in the midst of this pandemic, she feels like she’s struggling. Really really struggling. Her best coping skill is going to the beach, sitting by the waves, breathing deep. She feels guilty about considering going to the beach for the afternoon. “How can I risk it?” She asks me. “How can you not?” I say.

Mental health is not secondary to physical health. We can do both. And maybe sometimes we have to risk it a bit with one to save ourselves from the other. For instance, how many of us are severely afraid of needles and yet we would get the blood drawn for the sake of our physical health? And how many of us are pushing ourselves to our limit every day mentally in order to do our part in flattening the curve of this virus.

Am I suggesting we all go dance in the streets and hug all of our neighbors in the midst of a pandemic for the sake of our mental health? Absolutely not. But if you are struggling, really struggling, and you know you have reached your limit, please remember that your mental health is not something to take lightly. Call your mental health professional or someone you trust for guidance in how to best meet your emotional need while adhering to the stay at home order to the best of your ability.

And stay safe. Physically. And mentally.

Clinging to Thankfulness

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Clinging. Literally. Because thankfulness doesn’t come all that naturally to me. My battle with anxiety has left me fearful and constantly alert to anything that will rock my world. This constant state of heightened senses leaves very little room for a thankful heart. And yet I am so very thankful for so much. I just forget it in the midst of the things that set my equilibrium off balance and send my panic into overdrive.

So here I sit on a Rainy Monday, burdened by stress and yet clinging to thankfulness. My gratitude will prevail today. It will. For just one small moment I will not let my brain take that away from me. So here, right now, are 25 things I am thankful for.

1. The baby nestled into my arms

2. A spirited little toddler who keeps me laughing

3. A life partner who gives me grace and sacrifices his own sleep for mine.

4. A warm home

5. Our new home

6. Preschool

7. Coffee

8. Warm showers

9. Comfy clothes

10. A car

11. Warm meals

12. Parents and in-laws who will bend over backwards to love and support us.

13. Friends who check in on me and pray over me.

14. The ability to take vacations

15. Health

16. Access to health care (physical and mental)

17. Clean living conditions

18. Books

19. Parents who paved the way for beautiful deconstruction/reconstruction of my faith

20. An education

21. Netflix

22. Sleep

23. A baby who takes a bottle

24. The opportunity to learn and grow

25. Grace

Fear in Faith.

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I feel vulnerable, afraid, unsure. Am I doing it wrong? Am I searching too much, learning too much?

For years now I have been exploring my faith on many different levels. And I don’t just mean, tearing through my bible with a highlighter. I mean studying other religions, following the lives of people whose beliefs differ from mine, pushing myself into corners that are uncomfortable for me.

This morning as I lay in bed with a book in my lap, I realize that I am terrified. I thought I’d already done it-already entered into the scariness or doubt, seeking, not knowing- and yet I am finding myself in yet another layer of seeking God. One that feels entirely new to me. I feel like a vulnerable lamb in the middle of a forest.

We know faith is scary, right? It’s believing what we cannot see and cannot fully know. But even more than that, the exploration of faith, of God, of our own humanity, is so incredibly scary. And to be honest, I don’t really want to know anything else. I don’t want to explore anymore, I don’t want to know myself better, know God better. I’m just exhausted. Terrified. I could really just throw a temper tantrum about it all.

But something in me is bigger than all of that fear. This desire to know God so deeply that it pours out of my very energy. And in order to do that, I MUST journey, ask questions, doubt, meditate, swim in the unknown. It’s the only way.

I hate this feeling. This feeling of falling through the air. I’m a control freak, a perfectionist. This goes against everything that keeps me sane. But I don’t want to sit in a bubble of comfortability. I want more. We are called to more.

You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. -Jeremiah 23:19

Thankful and a Mess.

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My most vulnerable posts get the most social media attention by far, as do my writings. As humans we are drawn to humanity and in the same breath struggle to accept it. It’s the contradictions in life that keep us whole and balanced. But I’m not sure yet if that is widespread knowledge.

It still seems like a foreign concept that someone could be miserable and yet not on the edge of a mental breakdown. Or that someone could be joyful and yet drowning in sorrow. Or even still, that someone could be defeated yet motivated. But we navigate those waters every day. Maybe we don’t even realize it.

I always preface my “negative” feelings with the “acceptable” ones. For instance I might say: “I am so thankful, but I am also really emotionally tired”. Both are true, but one is more culturally acceptable, and so I fall into the trap of leading with that one so that I don’t look quite as messy.

But when did messy become such an undesirable thing? We wear shirts that say “bless this mess” and “hot mess express”, but underneath a trendy t-shirt are we willing to sit in the actual mess with someone else? Or do we just want to fast forward to the happy feelings and organized emotions. Is our goal to fix things or experience what needs to be experienced?

Being human is weird, and it’s hard, and if we’re really honest with ourselves it doesn’t make a lot of sense. I’m overwhelmed every day by my humanity, but I’m convinced it’s the very thing that brings me straight to the feet of Jesus. Actual Jesus. Not media Jesus. Not the Jesus of the modern evangelical church. Real Jesus. The one who gets what it means to be human and emphasizes loving ourselves and others IN THE MESS.

So basically messy is in right now, and so is joy. And both of them together? Well that’s just downright trending.

Love you guys, my messy readers.

The Place That Brought Me Back To Life.

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I look at this picture, stare straight into the eyes of this woman, and I catch my breath. There was a time I hated the eyes that stared back at me, banged my head against the mirror in agony, shuddered at the thought of my future. My life is not perfect, but there is a strength and a hope that was never there before. I am thankful for my journey. So thankful.

Spring triggers the memory for me. The smell of new rain on the earth, bonfires, the feel of warm sun on my face. The most unlikely of places brought me back to life 12 years ago.

We weren’t really a camping family. Sure, I ran around barefoot all summer and climbed trees like a monkey, but nothing that quite prepared me for this.

I arrived terrified beyond anything I’ve ever felt. The truck bumped along the gravel driveway for over a mile before grinding to a hault next to a brown ranch building. I went in the front door with only the clothes on my back, and came out ready for the next two months of my life. My hiking boots pinched my feet, and the cargo shorts they’d given me clashed terribly with my new yellow t-shirt. I climbed back into the truck, refusing what they called “the last supper”, a Big Mac and fries, before making our way slowly up the mountain to the drop off point.

We stopped at the edge of a thick forest, and the door opened beside me. My driver helped me out of the truck and clipped my pack to my back. Another man was waiting for me by the woods, ready to take me to what was next. I wanted to scream and cling to the bearded man who’d brought me here. I’d only known him for a few hours, but the sound of his truck driving away felt like deep abandonment.

The new man hiked in front of me as I stumbled along behind. My pack was too heavy for my small frame even though it had barely anything inside. By the time we arrived at the campsite, my hips had been rubbed raw.

Little did I know the hardships I’d experience over the next two months; the agony of missing family events, of finding out I would not be going home again, the physical pain I would overcome as I hiked through the Blue Ridge mountains. But deep suffering does something to us doesn’t it? When we are stripped of everything we find something underneath it all. We find grit we didn’t know was there. We find those many wonderful things God gave us as babes that we forgot were even there.

I struggle with suffering. I want it to go away. In fact, I spend much of my life subconsciously trying to avoid it. But when I stop and really consider, suffering is what grounds us. It grounds us to God, ourselves, each other, our humanity. Over the years has come this understanding that for us to fully live as we’ve been created to live, we must experience suffering. Our choice is how we to choose to navigate through the hard.

Trust me.

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I’ve been wrestling with anxiety over something I can’t control.

There’s really no statement that better describes my life struggles. It always comes back to this need for the illusion of control, to know the outcome before it happens, to be prepared for every uncomfortable thing.

Anybody else? I hear a chorus of “Amen!” Out there. Because life is a series of events that we don’t see coming and cannot often prepare for. Some of those experiences are breathtakingly beautiful and others are much more difficult, steal our breath away, leave us feeling like the shell of who we thought we were. And while we can often find pieces of beauty in life’s difficulties, it doesn’t always make it that much easier. Maybe for a moment. Maybe we feel a deep peace in the midst of the darkness, but the pain still comes in waves.

So it makes sense that life feels scary at times. I sometimes feel so attacked by the “what-ifs” that I actually freeze for a few moments of time, unable to function for fear of all that could occur.

But recently a still strong voice has followed my anxious thoughts. “Trust me”, it says. I know it to be God’s voice, the certainty is not my own. For no matter how much I stir up on my quest for Jesus. No matter how frustrated I may become with the old traditions and ways of thinking. I believe in a good good God. One who walks with us through this journey of life. I don’t believe he saves us from pain, I think He respects us more than to shield us from heartache. And while it often feels confusing and scary to me to serve a God who allows (as I see it in my limited understanding) the pain of this world; Something deep within in me just knows it all makes sense somehow. “Trust me”, He says. “For the love, just cling to me as the world falls apart all around you, as it all seems so scary and daunting. Feel your feelings, feel your doubts, but somewhere deep inside that wrestling heart of yours, “just trust me”.”

Peace in Doubt and Fear-How?

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In the weeks since my interview on The Bible For Normal People aired, Ive gotten many questions about how I’ve accepted fear and doubt in my faith. To be clear, I haven’t reached some kind of Nirvana in my Christian faith where no longer struggle. But I have picked up some tools along the way to allow myself to question and doubt without fearing that I am somehow undoing my faith.

  1. Have Faith- Well that seems a tad backwards doesn’t it? Isn’t doubting the absence of faith? Some might say so. But I completely disagree. The first step to embracing your doubt, is stepping out in faith; Believing that God is bigger than everything that you cognitively know about “him”. Not easy my friends, and really uncomfortable. But until I made the decision to trust that God stays the same regardless of what direction I go, every new question felt like the scariest place in the world.
  2. Surround Yourself With People Who Support You- Did you notice that I did not say, “people who think exactly like you do”. My faith journey requires people from all different belief systems, all walks of life, all struggles. We all bring something important to the table. Yes, seek out a few people who are sitting right at the same place you are, but allow room for others to teach you as well. Be open to growing in every situation.
  3. Know Yourself- Know yourself, and trust yourself. If you aren’t working towards that, then it’s hard to know and trust God. I’ve found many outlets over the years to help me know myself. Writing, acting, running, swimming. I’ve also found that saying no to people and experiences that just don’t feel right helps build trust and peace with myself. If God lives within us, then we should make knowing ourselves a priority. If you don’t know where to start, try journaling for 5 minutes everyday-don’t think, just write.

Those are the big three. The things I cling to as I walk my faith journey. Doubt is just uncertainty, and uncertainty leads to the desire to know, which ultimately leads to learning, which leads to wisdom. So doubt and fear, my friends, is such a wonderful gift.

Why We Do Hard Things.

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I’ve wondered for as long as I can remember: Why do we have to endure hard things? Why can’t life be just a little bit fluffier, easier? Is it really necessary to suffer? I don’t presume to have all the answers, but through the years I have realized one thing: hard things are so necessary.

Yesterday Eric, Lilah, and I flew to Florida. No big deal right?

WRONG!

I hate to fly. I hate everything about it: the teetering above the clouds in a metal contraption, being stuck next to strangers in a small space, not being able to move around with ease, tiny cramped bathrooms. I’m a claustrophobic control freak. You do the math. Flying is not for me. And in case you don’t really believe it’s all that bad, I once got out of my seat during take off and demanded that the stewardess land the plane immediately (and no that wasn’t yesterday, I was 16 at the time).

This wasn’t necessarily a trip that I HAD to go on. It was a three day work trip for Eric, so it might seem a little odd that I would want to take my neurotic self and teething 16 month old to tag along. But something inside me knew I had to do it.

I knew it would be really really hard. I knew that I might have a million panic attacks, and maybe barely get through it. I knew it might be miserable. And deep down inside I just wasn’t so sure I could handle it. Especially with a baby. And I’ve been challenging myself to push back against those lies that I won’t make it through hard things. So here we are, in Florida. Yesterday felt like a nightmare, but we did it. We boarded that bare bones, possibly made of tin foil, aviation contraption, and we lived to tell the tale (I’m nothing if not dramatic FYI).

But why the hard stuff, right? Why the pain, the suffering, the adversity? If God was really good, wouldn’t He/She lighten things up a bit? There can’t really be a point to all this madness. Listen, I’m not going to get into the black hole question that is “why is there suffering”. But I think it’s important to note that without suffering we would be empty shells. The hard things are what teach us who we are, and who God is.

Anyone who really knows me knows that I believe in a complete correlation between knowing and loving ourselves, and knowing and loving our God. They work in tandem. And how do we really learn about ourselves and our God? By journeying through life’s ups and downs and realizing that we will make it, that God is with us.

Please hear me, I am not suggesting that this is in anyway easy. As someone who struggles with anxiety, depression, and has been an empath my entire life, I pray daily for “easy”. I still don’t want the hard. But when I take a deep breath and dig down deep, I know that it is the key to so much of what I am searching for in my restless soul.

What can you do today to embrace the hard? Can you let yourself feel sad, heartbroken, disappointed, angry, and still leave your hands open to what it is teaching? Can you take a deep breath and lean in, knowing that it might be the hardest thing, but you can do it. We will be more empathetic, more whole, more in tune with ourselves, more in tune with God and the world around us, because we have chosen to press into the hard.

Much love you on this journey my friends.

Thank You. Love, Me.

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I was 16 years old. Sitting alone in the middle of an international airport. I knew my dad would catch up to me soon. I’d just escaped a plane ride to a destination I greatly feared. I had every intention of bucking up, bravely enduring the trip and what was to come after, but in the end, the fear was too great, I had to get off. He had followed me, I know he had, grabbing our bags in the process. I knew I was in trouble.

I was ashamed, still afraid, trying to get control of a situation I had zero control over. You see just 24 hours earlier my parents had told me I’d be going to Georgia, to a therapeutic wilderness camp. I’d looked it up online, researched my fate, made peace with it. But as the hours passed, It felt too scary, I wanted to be brave, but I couldn’t.

Back at home after our first attempt to go, the fear overtook me. I sobbed, I self harmed, I screamed a million obscenities at everyone in my path. I was 16. Bigger than a child, but yet still a kid. And I was scared. Scared I would never make it through a wilderness camp, scared of what life looked like ahead of me, scared I would never live a life of peace and joy.

So much in my past that makes me cringe to remember, that causes tears to roll down my cheeks when I write about it. “Who even was she?”, I wonder aloud. “Thank God I’ve grown,” I commend myself, “I’ll just forget about it all, leave it in the past, cover it with this newer model of myself. One that is a little more mentally stable, more sure of herself, more socially acceptable”.

God, no I hope I never do that. I hope I never forget, never stop sharing, never stop thanking little me for everything that has come before now. I’ve been fighting since I was a teeny little thing. Fighting for a better life, for hope that I knew deep down existed. Battling mental illness, and traumas that rocked my little epathetic self. How brave I have been. How dedicated to my future, to the real me that lives deep down inside, to exposing the mess and embracing the truth. So brave.

It’s so much easier to blame the past isn’t? Or to mourn everything that the past could have been had we only done something different. But we didn’t. We have done the very best we’ve ever been able to do in order to survive. The “me” we are today has everything to do with all that came before, the person we’ve been, the choices we’ve made. We are they and they are us.

I’ve been brave. I’ve been strong. All that I am has brought me to this place.

Thank You. Love, me.

? Marisa Kinney photography


I’ll leave you with this, my friends:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3Y_YiZp6gM

“I am the Lord your God, I go before you now
I stand beside you, I’m all around you
Though you feel I’m far away,
I’m closer than your breath
I am with you, more than you know”

When your joy has jumped ship.

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What a loaded season. For all of the joy and festiveness, there is equally as much pain and sadness. Wounds are that much deeper around the holidays. The loss of loved ones, sickness, mental health struggles, financial struggle, relationship hardship, loneliness. The holidays seem to open the wounds and pour salt directly on them. For many, the holidays are a time of memories and tradition, so when that is lost or doesn’t feel like it used to be, there is much pain.

I’ve experienced both types of holiday. The ones where joy and laughter abound, and the ones where I can’t keep my head above water. But as a general whole, I always feel stressed around the holidays. Expectations are high, and consumerism is rampant, and my heart gets bogged down with it all-trying to find balance, rest, and peace in the midst of it.

What happens when our joy has jumped ship? When we’re trying to find that bubble of wonderment in everything we do but it’s just gone missing? The messages around us are clear-do more, be more, buy more. I wonder what would happened if we moved into the lack of joy. If we didn’t find fear in it or judgment, but just acknowledged its presence. Could we find the bittersweet? That place where pain, joy, and gratitude meet? Could we honor the journey and not wish it was something different?

It’s okay if your joy has jumped ship. In fact, it’s normal. Most of us are faking our way through the holidays in one way or another (and life for that matter). Its just not human to keep it together all of the time. I would even argue that we were created to journey, not just to arrive.

Having joy in every circumstance is a tall order, one that gets a bit misunderstood I think. It’s more than a smile and a warmness in your belly. Joy can be a distant understanding of Gods ultimate goodness, or a fractured memory of a loved on peeping through the darkness. It might not look like you have any joy, but I bet it’s there-looking so much different than the Christmas decorations say it should look. It might be tattered, broken, dusty, dirty-but it’s there!

Your joy hasn’t jumped ship, it’s just in a different package than expected.

Love you guys, wishing you true peace and rest this holiday season and throughout your lives.

**special note. Let us be sensitive and overwhelmed with awareness and empathy for those around us suffering this holiday season.**