More of My Plans

My last post was a confession, let out the bad air breath in the good. This one will have to continue with that same course. I hope that my admittance will not be taken in a wrong way, I still love Southeastern, God just has other plans for me. I learned how to love God with more then my heart and strength, I learned how to love Him with my mind. To use learning as an act of worship. My Old Testament class opened my eyes to the beauty of Scripture, growing up in the Church had surprisingly dampened it's greatness. Because of that class I have fallen so in love with the word of God that I literally rest on it, I sleep with my Bible in my bed so that I can reach out and touch the promises of God, knowing that there is no greater reassurance then His word He breathed to us. I give 90% of the credit for this understanding and new passion to Southeastern. But here is my truth, I am not geared for Southeastern at this point in my life.

My last semester was awful, I was so buried in anxiety over my school work I couldn't think straight. I felt like I was crazy, every time I would get a handle on things and come up with a new plan to reorganize I would have a panic attack or nearly work myself into having a panic attack. I was burdened with terrible fear of being alone (especially since I had no roommate) as soon as I would enter my room I would turn on my t.v. and watch a movie. Movies became an escape. There was no deafening silence that made my thoughts slip into the anxiety traps that seemed to wait for me, so I would space out to escape. I tried to ignore my problems and be strong enough to shoulder them, instead of showing true strength and admitting my defeats. I am prideful, to an obvious fault. How could I admit to my family that it wasn't that I was failing, but much worse that I couldn't even overcome my anxiety enough to try. My father, whose acceptance I valued so much as a daughter, was the Chairman of the board of Trustees to Southeastern, a personal friend of the President of Southeastern Daniel Akin, whose class I was failing because I couldn't attend it without having an anxiety attack. I had so many whispers ringing in my ears, you're embarrassing your father, you're ruining your life, who could ever love someone with anxiety, how can God use someone who can't even handle anxiety enough to go to class. To be perfectly honest I hated this Amy, this side of myself who was so weak, and so easily listened to the lies that Satan thundered on me night and day.

At the end of the semester everyone was packing up to leave for home, ready to enjoy their family and Christmas, I decided to stay in the dorm a week and a half longer to work. I didn't want to have to own up to my behavior, or even look my dad in the eyes; in fact I wouldn't even call him and talk to him, I was so ashamed and so ready to accept his disapproval of me. He would often call me very upset, telling me he was tired of wondering if I was okay, where I was, or that he just wanted to hear my voice and ask about my day. His loving rebukes were like a mirror to just how broken I was, in some ways it only fueled me to hide even more.

Christmas 2009 was probably the worst season of my life. All I wanted to do was curl up in my sister's bed and watch movies with her. As I look back now I can see how tentative everyone was, keeping quiet, and the house was softer then it's normal Homesley chaotic roars! I can practically see my 13 year old sister sliding so softly into her bed next to me that it was like she was scared of hurting me. I knew the truth would have to come out, but I also didn't want to completely destroy everyones Christmas by admitting that I was failing at college because I was suffering and caving in from battling oppressive panic disorder. "Merry Christmas mom and dad, sorry I couldn't afford to buy you guys a gift this year, by the way the whole semester I've been periodically having anxiety attacks that have now turned my GPA into a nightmare! Now who wants some more eggnog?"

So I suffered through Christmas, and made continual lies that "I'm fine" and when someone brought up classes I would say everything was "fine" and change the subject as swiftly as possible. I smiled through physical torment and pain, hiding from failure and fears of rejection. I made it to New Years, just barely though, I felt like a shadow of the Amy I once was. That night at dinner I sat across from my father and he looked at me and again asked the question I hated most "So how do you think you did in your classes?" I couldn't say "fine" anymore, I was physically sick and ready for freedom from failures. I broke into pieces at that table, I admitted every thing I had been holding back for half a year. In sobs I begged for forgiveness, I feared rejection and scorn. I was as ready as I could ever be for a volley of justified anger from my father. He had every right to cast me off in anger, to look at me with contempt. In my father's eyes was shock, pity, understanding, compassion, and hurt. He didn't understand why I hadn't trusted him with my anxiety, I had inherited it from him, and he had a similar battle against it. He spoke gently to me, soothing my fragile state, as tenderly as if I were a dove with a broken wing.

In that moment my earthly father became the clearest living example of God the Father to me. Reminding me again and again that his love was unconditional, pleading with me to understand the depths of his compassion for me, asking in tenderness why I hadn't come to him when I needed him. He showed me that it is possible to love someone undeserving of love. I was the ugly, wretched, sick woman crawling to touch touch to hem of Christ robe unnoticed. Hoping to be healed, but expecting rejection, and ready to sneak back away. Over the months that followed I slowly came out of my shell. My father allowed me to use home as a refuge for rest, provided counseling for me, and even swallowed his human nature to demand answers for my shortcomings. We found out that half my classes I had scored B's but the other half, due to the focused anxiety I was experiencing with them, were incomplete. The B's were a shock, I had given into the idea that I was a complete failure, nothing was right.

My father encouraged me to take time off school, heal, and rethink my plans. Even then I was so wrapped up in them I couldn't possibly imagine another road of life. I was ready to dive right back into my idols, to accept that there was no other way God could work through me but through my plans.

I guess some people just learn the hardest of the hard way.

My Plans

My plans, more like my idols. Good things gone and grown into gods. My focus, bent and centered, on reaching curtain goals, and I knew the outcome would be that I would end up closer to God then I could ever imagine; if only I could pull through my plans. With each step forward I shut God off and turned my plans up, they were my religion. I shake my head writing this because it is so obvious here on the other side of things.

I was probably in sixth grade when I met Paige Patterson, the president of Southeastern at the time, his passion for the college students and the ministry they would enter was like finding a kindred spirit. It all looked so perfect, and my plans were made, in sixth grade with a passionate heart for the Lord I made the first carvings in sculpting my future idol. Those plans were always there, anytime someone asked me "What do you want to do after school?" my plans were clearly laid for them as fluidly as quoting scripture. And so through middle school and high school no matter how bad or hard things looked I had my plans to bring me comfort, I would imagine myself walking across the beautiful green lawns of Southeastern and know that everything was just a struggle until that time. In my desire to serve God I forgot Him, not even aware that I was missing the point.

High school was almost impossible to "escape" being so close to graduation yet seemingly so far felt like being stuck in a trap a foot from safety. My heart was breaking that my plans were already falling apart, but I held on refusing to let go of my goals. I am such a fool. Focused on this life so much that I refused to believe God could have any other way for me to live and so I just kept fighting forward to achievement. As soon as I made it to Southeastern I felt like nothing could slow me down, I was on my path to righteousness, and delighted with my cleverness. My parents and church were so proud, and so was I. It didn't take long for my happy unrealistic goals to self destruct in a cloud of truth. I couldn't live up to my idealistic Amy, perfect that she was in my head just couldn't translate to real world Amy. The pressure I put on myself could have made the Hoover Dam burst. I expected nothing less then perfection from myself, ended up hating my failings. Soon anxiety was my constant companion. But I looked at it like it was a test, if I worked hard enough I could overcome these things and continue on in my goals.

For a whole year I wrestled anxiety and fear of admitting not being strong enough, and fear of disappointing the people back home. It's sad to think about, and every time I came home people would tell me how tired and worn I looked. I looked sick, because in truth I was. Forcing myself to fit in where I didn't, and trying to be something I wasn't, then angry at myself for the failures. All the while I refused to turn to God, instead I felt ashamed that I couldn't live up to the plans I had made, confused with which god to serve and surrender to.

The Road that Leads Home

When I first left for college I thought I was making my first giant steps into adulthood. Now a year and a half later I am exactly back where I started. At this moment I am sitting on the floor of my parents living room watching the "Barefoot Contessa" chop vegetables and fresh herbs so smoothly it should be called The Food Porn Network. And Southeastern has just finished Spring Semester 2010, a semester that I could not attend. So here I am overlooking half of a year wondering who I am, and who I will be become, and seeing that the road I choose to leave home has, in the end, brought me back.

I am lucky to have this home to come to, parents more than willing to support me, and a church full of loving people. But this is not where I saw myself. I have discovered how weak and childish a person I am.

For years as a youth I struggled in silence with panic disorder. Almost becoming agoraphobic, I would instantly have a release of adrenaline as soon as I would leave my house. Grocery stores, Target, KOHLS, they all became feared places, and a crowded mall was like a death trap. Most fourteen year old girls adopt these places as a second home, I however couldn't bare the thought of it. I felt pathetic, and I allowed myself to act pathetic. I found freedom in riding my bike. All over the neighborhood. And music, I felt weightless when I was riding my bike, or listening to music. I even combined the two. It was long before iPods, so I took a little white battery powered radio and taped it between my handle bars. I remember listening to Coldplay's The Scientist while I leaned and flowed around curves. I felt like a butterfly.

I had to leave college because I was struggling, once again, with panic disorder. Now when I sit still I worry over what it has cost me. Today I took a ten mile bike ride, my iPod, secured by an amazing case and arm band, was there fueling me with music.

When I go back to college I will do it right. I will be healed, and prepared. And this time I will take my bike with me, just in case.

Black Tables

I find myself waiting, sitting on the edge of my seat. I don't know what I'm waiting for. I wish I were a million miles away sometimes, and other times I don't want to be anywhere else. It's not that I'm unhappy, but I think this is what growing truly feels like. I am here at home, a wonderful place to be, yet a part of me doesn't fit here anymore. Home hasn't changed, but I have.

Confessions of the Undated, Part Two

My life is not defined by any relationship I have, except my relationship with God. But it seems like there are harsh stigmas for any single female, especially, who is not constantly on the look out for "Mr Right" which seems to only allow us to find "Mr Right Now". There is nothing wrong with wanting a relationship with good godly man, but I do have problems when it becomes an obsession and an idol. Why, dear sisters and brothers, do we build untouchable expectations in our heads, and then feel devastated when our goals can't be reached? In the words of Adam Duritz song "Hard Candy"
"You put your girl up on a pedestal. Then you wait for her to fall."

Why are we making each other jump through hoops? Surely we should just approach each other as friends, brothers and sisters in Christ, and treat each other as Christ would treat us. Others first and ourselves last.

I know it's hard for us because we are taught by culture that we should "Do what is right for us!" but this Post Modern culture is also drowning in suicide statistics, murder statistics, rape statistics, and depression is being diagnosed younger and younger. We are NOT supposed to follow these foot steps, so why do we follow them in view of relationships?

A good friend recently gave me some of the best advice I have ever gotten in view of relationships, don't focus on feelings, focus on truth. All about taking minds captive and not letting our image of the perfect person, or even our imagination over analyzing every word and movement a person makes. If we look at the truth in the situation we keep ourselves in the moment, more able to be free and honest with the person, and we can more easily live!

You don't have to have a man or woman to live! Find love in God, family, and friends! Do something for someone who is a stranger, and show them love! Then the people around you! Never look back with regrets! Love God with a burning passion that is irreplaceable! Stop Waiting!!!! Start running!

The race started the day you were born and your still waiting for "Mr. Right" at the starting line! Run, run, run! Find people who encourage you to keep moving and run with them! Then perhaps one day you may realize you have found someone who wants to run right beside you! But remember they are not the goal of your life.

I myself am at the first steps of letting go and living, I am criminal with my expectations! I am also victim to my expectations, for myself and others. Expectations have a sly way of taking us from actively living into dreaming and waiting.

And as a last little note remember, you are not defined by your relationship status. Single does not mean you are unlovable, ugly, stupid, or any other lie you want to tell yourself. Marriage will not turn you into a picture perfect you. But despite all we are, we do have a love who battled a world of sin, and died for us, because he would rather die for us than be without us. Live for Him, he is more than enough.

Confessions of the Undated, Part One

"Enough already! I want off this Roller Coaster from Hades!"..... yeah that's pretty much exactly what my heart has been shouting for a month or more!

I will never be able to understand the amazing amount of abuse we humans allow ourselves to be put through! Most of which is inflicted by our own person!

Truthfully I wish my heart could come with a Handbook...no better yet "Amy's Emotional Survival Guide." Sounds wonderful doesn't it? A "How To" chapter for every possible situation! Alas, dear friends, we are not so fortunate, the way our hearts learn is through trial and error. Sometimes we have to be drug through gravel to learn.

To be completely open (which is honestly one of the hardest things for a compartmentalizer like me to do) I suck at relationships with guys! When I was young I suffered a fair amount of harassment from the opposite sex, my experiences shaped my adolescent mind to believe awful lies about men, myself, and God.

I was afraid to get too close to any male of any age, I was paranoid that every man must have horrible intentions if he was trying to be nice to me. My heart, without me realizing it, was slowly crippling.

As a child I had fantasized about becoming a woman who was beautiful and confident, and every Disney movie I had watched portrayed the classic story line of a wonderful fearless man who would be gentle and bold. As my young eyes soaked in every sweet and tender moment flashing before me I did not realize that even the best fairy tale has a villain. Innocent, naive, and hopeful with middle child syndrome (desperate for attention) that was me, a perfect target. I would blindly trust anyone, I hoped for the best in all people. As I finally began to grow into a young woman, I was ecstatic, this was what I had been waiting for! And just like Little Red Riding Hood it didn't take long for the wolves to emerge from the forest.

By the end of that battle I was so worn out and burdened I practically had PTSD, I couldn't let go, and I couldn't heal. I was afraid of everyone.I was rattled, like a lion in a cage being teased. It did not take long before I started to blame myself for how I had been treated. Even God became a victim of my stigma. He was "male" in my mind, and He let it happen. I was hurt. So at that point I couldn't trust men, myself, and then I closed the door to God too.

Lonely was easy, lonely was safe..... Yet it is not good for man to be alone. I couldn't find happiness in my loneliness. I began to see myself in such a horrible light. Worthless, who could ever see anything special or beautiful in me? Stupid, no one would ever care about what I had to say or what I thought. Ugly, no one saw anything lovely enough to take the proper time to uncover my heart.

So I accepted that I would be single, because if I couldn't find someone to really take care of the heart I was trying to give them then I would trust it to no one. So I took the first steps into the world of the Undated.

The Serenity Prayer

I am simply amazed at how many different ways a heart can be broken. A distant feeling between friends, the great unveiling of a lie, finding out the truth of how low other humans can be, and the heart breaks that hurt the most are the ones we do to ourselves. When we get caught up in a series of events that seem to be completely harmless, yet as the events unfold further and further we realize that we have led ourselves straight into just the type of situation we always dreaded.
I break my own heart constantly, by gaining my value in the value other people see in me. I care too much, and always end up getting burnt. I wish I could just shrug out of this skin of uncertainty and feel as light as air. The opinions of others seem to me like a personal chain from each person keeping me locked to the ground. Some chains are tight, some are loose, some are heavy, some are light, some made of petals, and some are made of thorns. Oh, how I wish I was free from caring! I miss confidence and certainty... I miss my unhindered smiles.
This world has broken my heart over and over, and so I gave mine to God long ago. Yet, every once and a while someone gets a piece of it. I opened up to a friend today, he said he could tell there was something wrong. I told him of a past mistake, one that had been almost forgotten, and then out of nowhere reared its head. When I was finished he admitted that he could tell there was much more buried deep inside. Of course there is, who doesn't?
I wish I could let go. I think anyone with any addiction needs to pray this prayer, it expresses almost perfectly what I desire.

The Serenity Prayer

God grant me the serenity
to accept the things I cannot change;
courage to change the things I can;
and wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time;
Enjoying one moment at a time;
Accepting hardships as the pathway to peace;
Taking, as He did, this sinful world
as it is, not as I would have it;
Trusting that He will make all things right
if I surrender to His Will;
That I may be reasonably happy in this life
and supremely happy with Him
Forever in the next.
Amen.

--Reinhold Niebuhr