Well hello there, world! I am sitting at the kitchen table with a 4 year old and a 7 year old who are crafting, it's an exciting Sunday night at the Steffen house. Today, I am thankful for a fridge full of leftovers and an early supper :)
Honestly, because I don't know how to do this whole blog thing any other way, I am having some mental conflict on what I want to share right now, especially with my littles sitting near me. I had given up this whole writing thing, but thanks to some coaxing from my little sis who loves me in a large way, I have some heart weights that I'm ready to let go of.
The last time I had a blog post was Dec. 1. I have not read that post, I don't even know where my brain was back in December. I imagine I wrote something that was meant to lift up others, shared some details that were humbling, it might have been a little ugly and surely I found some way to craft it all into something that was "bright sided". I do that, sometimes.
On the outside, I smile. I laugh a lot, and I'm a hugger. I'm a lover. I'm the most outgoing introvert I've ever known. These are just a few of my 'truths'. It's really who I want to be and I find myself faking it til I make it, all day- every day.
On the inside, I'm nervous. I'm anxious and worried. I'm standoffish. I feel very little worth. Sometimes I shake and quiver. I feel it all. Not just my "all", but I feel everyones ALL. Do you get that?? I don't know how to explain what I mean here other than, if you are having a hard time with something.. surely I will internalize that. Sometimes it all just feels very heavy.
So December was about the time where I finally convinced myself that I needed to get over myself. I couldn't figure out what exactly was wrong, just couldn't put my finger on it. But somehow with about the weight of three elephants, three of my good friends forced upon me a timely meeting with my local Dr. At this point I had skipped out on over 3 years of routine appointments. I didn't really make time for self care. At the very beginning of January, I finally had this appointment, and it was at that time that I admitted that I thought I needed some help.
Help. What does that even mean? I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me, and really, I still don't know. But I do know that I was mad at my brain. I was mad at myself for all of the times I was angry when anger was not a response that was warranted. I was sad that I couldn't control my sadness, and tears were just so normal. I AM embarrassed that I'm hardly embarrassed that I'm bawling at the table right now, and that is pretty okay and not that abnormal for my kids that are sitting near me. Because, why? I don't know, except that my brain goes everywhere and my body just follows.
First, I wanted to be self sufficient. I have said about a dozen times, nobody is happy or content all the time. I was managing. Or, rather, I was masking. Next, I told myself as a believer, God was going to just make me feel whole. Truly, there was nothing broken and nothing wrong. Here I am, this 30 year old female who has so much to be thankful, grateful and happy for. God had blessed me in a big way with the beautiful family, the sweet dimples, the wonderful husband, amazing friends and the cute house in the nice neighborhood. Blessed, right? I mean, you have thought it, I'm sure.
So here I sat, in my car (because I'm not usually just an on time girl, I'm early). I was sitting outside the Doctors office, thinking about how thankful I should be. Was I going to ask for help? Was I going to admit that I was a selfish human that just couldn't relish in the huge blessings that God had afforded me?
Well, long story short. I did. I cried in that doctors office and a whole load came off my shoulders. I think it was the first time in a long time that I felt like it was all going to be okay again. I was prescribed a medicine and I was so hopeful. But I also felt shame.
If you know me, I am an advice giver. I don't even know if anyone wants to hear the "wise words of Renae" but I guess I find myself shelling that junk out all the time. Who was I, to spend so much of my time and my efforts trying to build people out when my own inside was a jenga disaster, one block away from happening. It was shameful for me, so I thought I would keep that information captive.
That was short lived. It was eating me alive. I swear I felt about 10 God nudges and I just kept snapping back at him with a sharp "stop it!" Finally, I found myself at one of the most intimate bible study moments. It was one of those nights that maybe should have been cancelled, but God said no, so we said yes. The words came out through stifled tears that I needed help, and that I was trying to get it. I received so much love that evening, from a small group of gals that didn't need to love me. They just listened and made me feel human. As human as I had felt in a long time. I was going to be okay, I didn't need to feel humiliated. I was empowered.
I wish the story ended there. I wish I could say that everything was perfect and wonderful. But who would I be if these sorts of things didn't take more trial and time for me. I surely wouldn't be as resilient as I am.
I was so hopeful, but that med did not help. Unfortunately, I think if I'm going to use the word, I will right now. My depression really dipped. I kept reading that I needed to take time and understand that medicines do not work overnight. Someone very sweet to me in the beginning of this journey told me that she was proud of me for taking action, but the words still ring true in my ear that she said "if this med doesn't work, keep trying". Today this same gal, from that same intimate bible study gave me a hug and again, I felt like a fake, a fraud.
You see, I made a really uncomfortable call to my clinic, to let them know the med was not helping. My Dr. was not in, so she pleaded with me to call back on Monday. I did not. However, a sweet nurse did call me, thankfully. Yet again, I tried a new routine. Same result. I did not feel better, not even a bit. If anything, I was crying more. I don't know how my friends put up with me and all the tears. I could not even hold in all of the feels.
January, February and March and April were tragic. I don't think I have ever felt so miserable. There were some events that took place during this time and my husband and really good friends have tried to assure me that I was okay to have feelings. My daughter Kendra had a procedure done (which I am so thankful to God for, everything went so well). Prior to this procedure, I was a wreck. I was insecure, worried for her, not feeling confident in any area of my life. February is also the anniversary of my fathers untimely death, and this year I handled it as if it was brand new news. I felt so terrible. Unexplainably terrible. I was sure that I was not measuring up to any amount of worth while grieving about things of the past and worrying about things in the future. I was a disaster.
Fast forward to today. I carry around minimal self worth and I question my capabilities. I have such a supportive and loving group of people that care for me. Worry is my middle name. And I could even go as far to say that I hyphenate it with anxiety. Renae Louise Worry-Anxiety Steffen. Thats me.
I took myself off the meds, but if I actually hit publish on this one, I think I'm going to be a grown up and make that call to the Dr. office and try again, to get better. I want to be better and I think I owe it to my family. I might even deserve all the good feelings in the world, maybe. Just maybe that day is coming.
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