That's a lot of Re's

every new year i ask god to give me a new word to ruminate on for the coming days and beyond. for a couple years it has been Rest and I have been attempting to learn the gift of rest in my mind, heart, life, emotions. this year when i asked, i felt the word 'Rejuvenate' rise to the surface of my mind and swim there. Okay. what does rejuvenate mean? I knew that it meant something in the realm of refreshing and newness. I looked up the definition on the internet, because my giant dictionary/synonym book has begun to fall apart and I require a new one most urgently.
REJUVENATE: restore (a river or stream) to a condition characteristic of a younger landscape.
make (someone or something) look or feel younger, fresher, or more lively, (to give vigor or youth)
Reinvigorate, reanimate, reclaim, refresh, revitalize, renew, refresh, reconstruct, recondition, regenerate, revivify, (that's a lot of re's!)
spruce up, exhilarate, restitution, make young again, update, breathe new life into, give face lift to, impart new life to.
I see this as my life desperately in need of fresh joy, life, refreshment of hope and vision, a spiritual face lift, and a total renewal of my inner self to be regenerated into a more alive version of myself. I've been so groggy with the sleep in soul-things. Only partially awake. My heart needs to be softened by the oil of love that can only be accumulated through purposeful time and intimate contact with the holy spirit and meditating on Jesus and listening for his glorious voice to daily direct my unsure steps into leaping and bounding and flight.
I've been praying for awhile to be awakened in places that have been dormant or that I've believed a lie over, such as who I am and what my purpose is in life. I embrace the simplicity of my existence while still keeping near to my heart that it is a miracle to be alive and to be a mother, wife and friend. I am thankful every day for a roof over my head, running water and a warm bed to sleep in. I am content lately with the small goings-on of home life rather than dreaming discontentedly of travel, maybe because I did a fair amount of travel this past year and found home to be such a refuge. Travel is still in my desires, especially to Europe, but it feels more like a thing that will happen when it's supposed to and I trust God to bring it about when it's time. Flying in airplanes and being in hotel rooms and eating out is more exhausting to me than I had imagined. I suppose it's mainly the being in public and having to feel "On" more than anything else. My body is healing but it's a slow process and I lack energy often.
So, this year I hope for a quickening of my mind, heart, spirit and even an energizing of my body to feel the rejuvenation I might gain in this new year through spiritual insight and closeness with God, and accomplishing goals I set long ago but didn't have the health (or persistence) to carry out. Maybe I can even blame it on perfect timing.. and I entrust perfect timing of the unfolding of important life things to a kind Friend that holds my life in his glorious hands and pours compassionate thoughts over me each moment, even if I in my humanity cannot often feel it, or fathom it, his love is unending and his delight for who I am is ridiculous. Aren't we the same as creators? We are feverishly happy when we look upon the things (or small humans) we helped make. Whether it be a song, sculpture or pottery, a poem, a painting, a garden we worked on to harvest flowers or vegetation to feed our families. I hope we all have a rich blessing over the fruit of our hands this coming year, resourceful with what we're given and brimming over with creativity and lustrous love. May we be rejuvenated and new the way we can only be when we spend time in prayer, meditation, reflection as well as pressing forward in this day we've been given.

Choosing Your Thoughts

The mind is full of activity, like many birds flitting about on the limbs of our conscience. Darting in and out of view continually. Busy, purposeful, swarming in V’s across the cobalt blue sky. Gathering around the sprinkled seed. May they gather around the good seed. Fly off to their awaiting branches, dropping seed amongst rich soil, to sow love, joy and peace.

Choose
God says: Be Still. Know. That He is. He is God.
He will be lifted high, as we rest in the knowledge.
He is exalted as we revel in His peace
We trust and rely fully upon His faithfulness
As He does the heavy laboring
Our souls unwind in repose upon His breast
Each fluttering unrest unburdened, free
We are liberated as his hands untangle the chains
Rusted shackles, thorny roots dug out, exposed
Bathed richly in the luminescent glow
Of his pure, golden light
He places wings of glory upon our shoulders
To set us on the heights
Where once we drug our weary bodies along
Like crabs with heavy shells
Dusty, stone-laden paths before us, stumbling
We now are able to soar above
Looking down, we see how tiny each one was
Each cave we blindly entered
Each trap we fell into
Each boulder we climbed over
Each obstacle we toiled in
Each labyrinth we cycled round and round within
Made clear like green fields in an airplane’s view
People roam like tiny insects down below
We were once like them
But now we fly, overhead
Our wings expanded like that of an eagle’s
And we now know
We could fly all along
If only we chose to
So we choose to
No more clipping of the plumes
No more cowering in the supposed safety
Of our entangling nests and webs
Pushed out from the perilous aerie
Seemingly to our death-fall
Reminded, finally, that we can fly
We have wings.

Annie

Today, choose your thoughts wisely. Fix your lovely minds on things that pour life into the recesses of your minds. Be refreshed in knowing that you are uniquely made and placed in the exact spot you can brighten and thrive in, causing a domino-effect of goodness to all of the people placed around you. Be love. Be kind. When you feel irritated or angry, take a breath and choose your reaction. When you fail, as we all fail, gather yourself back up and begin again, steeping yourself in grace. When you catch your reflection in the mirror, rather than leaning in closer to peer at the flaws, take a step back and see the beauty, the good features, and laugh at yourself. Be the first to apologize in an argument. Smile at people, spreading joy to the world. It’s the little things that make a difference. Most of all, just be you. You are so wonderful, and there is none exactly like you. Choose life.

Slide or Soar

My husband is a musician. I am a homemaker. I could put many other words here, technically, and sound more cool, but I am merely that. And that is a lot. I am the one who cleans our sweet barn home top to bottom and keeps it tidy, looking pretty, and smelling nice. I cook most of the meals, and do some of the many dishes that accumulate daily. (My husband is like the dish man-he’s amazing. I do dishes but the guy is vigilant in the kitchen. It’s wonderful.)
I make sure bathrooms are presentable and that there’s no pee on the seats. Yes, with boys this is unavoidable sometimes-shrug, GROSS, move on.
I’m the one who teaches our two children their subjects, helping them with math problems, language, spelling tests, writing, grammar, history and whatever else that comes up, on the three days of the week that they don’t attend a charter school. I garden occasionally outside, watering plants and getting my hands dirty, which I love. I research healthy yet delicious meals and go to the grocery store and play the chef with ingredients that I hope will be satisfactory to every member of my family as well as my own taste buds. I wipe tears from sweet faces and I bandage wounds from playing hard outside, and console with words and prayers. I also sometimes scold when need be, which is not often, and send kids to their own rooms to have their own thoughts so that they can work out angers or frustrations. I bring towels to steamed-up bathrooms after showers when children forget to put one within reach. And when everyone is tucked in for the night, I finally read my own books and play my little word games and write my thoughts down if I have the energy to keep my eyes open at that point. It is a humble life. I love it.
I have felt the pressure many, many times whether from others or because of society’s views on the stay at home Mom, or even my own insecurities or need to help earn money for our family in a very expensive world, to get a “real job.” A paying occupation. I have worked throughout my time as well, cleaning houses to help supply financially, working in an office, and other odds and ends of these sorts of things. I am not against it or above it. I respect working mothers and women so very much, I can’t even describe in words my esteem for my friends who are both heroes in the workplace and tender, present mother. They are an amazing force.
We live paycheck to fluctuating paycheck. When you’re self-employed it is unpredictable. Often. Because of this, though, I’ve been able to see many miracles and we’ve been provided for supernaturally multiple times from the most unusual sources. It is not the life for everyone, it is hard to let go and not stress out some months.When work outside of the home is necessary, I roll up my sleeves and do it. This is good. But Chris and I feel rich, even when we don’t always know where next months rent will come from which is currently the case.  We are so happy in our humble life. We have to depend upon a God we’ve come to trust and rely on in many times of crisis- where God was faithful. Where things should have fallen apart and were instead worked out in ways we could not have anticipated.
The word for this season in our lives has been: Trust. Be still. Be thankful.
A couple of things I have clung to that were given to us through people many years ago are:
“The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places, Yes, I have a good inheritance. Psalm 16:6
And: “Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4
Today I awoke with thoughts of wings. God bestowing us with wings, and telling us we can soar on the heights.
Last night our precious 13-year old daughter prayed for us, and one of her prayers was that we would be lifted out of the fog and into the light where we can see truth more clearly. Then today, I read this:

I was at one time spending a winter in London, and during three long months we did not once see any genuine sunshine because of the dense clouds of smoke that hung over the city like a pall. But many a time I saw that above the smoke the sun was shining, and once or twice through a rift I had a glimpse of a bird, with sunshine on its wings, sailing above the fog in the clear blue of the sunlit sky. Not all the brushes in London can sweep away the fog; but could we only mount high enough we should reach a region above it all.
And this is what the soul on wings does. It overcomes the world through faith. To overcome means to “come over,” not to be crushed under; and the soul on wings flies over the world and the things of it. These lose their power to hold or bind the spirit that can “come over” them on wings of Surrender and Trust. That spirit is made in very truth “more than conqueror.”
~ Hannah Whitall Smith (Quaker, rebel, realist, poet, believer, writer)

I once had a dream that I was climbing up this strange roller coaster-type waterslide with many twists and very high plateaus and dead ends. I arrived at a place where I looked down and saw a very twisty, scary looking slide that I was supposed to go down, and I stood there, terrified. I turned back to go back the way I’d come, and it had vanished, leaving the one choice, to slide down, but then I was presented with another: giant wings that I could put on and soar with into the expanse before me. I chose the wings. I clipped them onto my arms and dove off into the air, soaring over tiny towns and miniature people and cars moving around down below. I awoke with such a feeling of exaltation. I want to fly, if given the choice.

Anyways, I don’t really know what that has to do with my first part of what I wrote, other than just keeping hope alive and “mounting up on wings like eagles” even in a life that sometimes feels mundane and quite ordinary. We were made to fly.

Fool for Love

to some, love looks foolish. Others envy what they assume love to be; they only see the sparkles in the eyes when gazes lock but not the struggle of holding on in dire times of desert hearts. Love IS FOOLISH~ we must become the fool, utterly abased at times to fully love. Love like Christ loves. Love that displays sacrifice is at times painful and does not always make us feel good.
It can be surgery, and surgery hurts. The surgery also heals. We lay our hearts splayed open for our lovers to examine and we let them have their way. Some play at love, others push up their sleeves and get their hands pulpy in the sometimes dirty labor of true love. This does not sound flowery so we turn our heads away and close our eyes to this unpleasant factor, favoring the romanticized view of love like the screen portrays: it is false. It is only a mere glimpse into a mirror of what love is supposed to look like in its fullness.. love can be ever so messy. Ever so complicated. Ever full of process and evolving humanity and getting down into the trenches and if you’re not willing to at times be the slave for your love then you may not be ready for it. Here’s a secret I’ve learned though: NO ONE IS EVER READY BEFORE THEY FALL IN LOVE.
Lovers are MADE. They are sculpted and formed by the very force of DOING and choosing and shattering into a zillion tiny pieces before your lover’s eyes, humiliated and thirsty and with all of your weaknesses exposed in their sight, letting them see you as you may be: a mess of emotions, raw insecurities and a big salty lake of tears then letting them wrap their arms around you in the warmest embrace you’ll ever feel because they’ve seen you true and real and still remained to press into LOVE. In that moment you feel that encompassing embrace is all you need. Those arms, holding, bracing, ANCHORING. In the dark of the night when nothing seems to make any sense at all, but you reach out and find that warm, loving hand that fits yours perfectly, it all seems okay. You can breathe in that moment and KNOW, you are loved.
When a lover has left, whether temporarily or jumped ship in the midst of the storm, that space they formed remains, like the imprint a footstep leaves in wet concrete or the concave your weight leaves in a plush couch cushion, and we feel the devastating depth of loss. It can feel like a death even if it’s not. That sting of betrayal or rejection, real or imagined, cuts us to our core.
We all want to be loved... but do we know what it means to really love and be loved? Do we count the cost? No matter, we plunge into love because it is the fabric of life. To love is to live. Or to die, right? Love kills so many things in us. It can be good death, or terrible loss of who we are. Love should free us to be who we truly are, not cage us and exterminate our souls. It should not imprison us but liberate us. Though we lose some things, that loss should not be the loss of our selves and our essence. It should hold us up to the flame and draw out the inner perfumes trapped so long therein. Love can burn, but ultimately it should bring out the beauty hidden, not cause us to cease to exist.
Redefined, remade, reconstructed but not forgotten in the shadows of another person’s dreams. Dreams should be shared and then amplified, not diminished.
When we are seen so intimately, so closely, with nude face exposed to the magnified gaze of a lover, it instinctively causes us to want to withdraw and flee. But when we STAY, and the eyes grow tender with empathy, which we hope will happen, this is where the truth begins. To know and be fully known. Oh my heart... if you find a soul who loves you like this, you’ve found the very meaning of life.


A little poem:
I’ve been a ball of wax melted into a puddle in your road
I’ve stood atop the glorious green hill with the anthem of jubilation on my lips
Because of you
But I’ve never loved completely until I saw my reflection in your eyes
The truth of who I am defined by your view of me
It’s not enough to say you complete me because that is selfishness
I was complete and so you were as well
Love is the joining force that crashes one whole soul into another and explodes into
A world of their own
Something spectacular out of nothing. Out of dust.
Mud-formed and luscious
Flesh upon flesh we meld
Yet remain our truest shape.
Your fire lit my flame and the forest illuminated with light
Nothing was burned, all was exposed.

Annie Chabot

Say a little prayer

Yesterday I discovered evidence of termites on my new bedroom floor behind the door. I got so pissed. I became all negative and discouraged and said some stupid things when Chris asked why I was so upset. Granted, I am a bit overtaxed from bad sleep habits of late, and non-stop moving-in-stuff, but still. It was silly. I said things like, "Why can't we just live in a place that doesn't have something gross wrong with it?!" and when my husband pointed out that we get to choose how we look at something that seems bad as just that, or as a means to rise above and still be thankful, I responded with a less than gracious answer. But. Such is life. My imperfection remains an obvious character flaw. I'm trying here, alright? 
I went into my daughter's room, which is perfectly put in place and clean at almost all times of every day. (Wonder where she gets that from, hmm?) She has a thankful bucket. Not a thankful jar. It's a big tin bucket where when you walk in her room, the rule is, you have to jot down one thing each time that you are thankful for on these little slips of paper she has then drop it into the thing. I stood there, alone in her room, with the pen hovering over the tiny piece of paper, drawing a blank. A blank, after God has obviously set us up in our own brand new cool barn house, in the country, with my healthy family, my doting and lovely husband, etc. But after a moment of self-abasement over that fact I realized that I wasn't not thankful, I had too many things I could list that I could be thankful for, but were not readily available in my mind because of my perspective.
I dumped out all of the little folded up pieces of thankfulness from her bucket and read every single one of them. I was teary as I read the last one: I am thankful for mama. My child is thankful for me. Messy, temperamental, easily-irritated at times, ME. 
I wrote my little message on my blank slip, folded it and placed them all back into the bucket.
I went out onto our deck and sat in a chair with my bible and my journal, and not feeling at all like praying, I said a prayer that aligned with what I had written down: I am thankful for miracles. With a little quote I adore: Impossibility is the atmosphere surrounding a miracle.I kind of desperately cried out to God to see evidence of His miracles today.
Impossibility is the atmosphere surrounding a miracle? Which means my whole life is a miracle. My husband's life is a miracle. Each one of my kids' lives are miracles. The fact that we have a roof over our heads and exist, and dwell on the Central Coast in one of the most expensive places in America is indeed a miracle. I felt hope trickle into my cold heart. Thankfulness at all of this crazy goodness melted my icy thoughts and poured life-giving truth back in where I had allowed doubt and going through the motions to be my guide. It was so nice to know how quickly we can be refreshed if we just simply take even a few moments to sit still and fix our thoughts on a positive, prayerful place. 

Suddenly, everything became more colorful for me once again. The birds seemed to sing a little clearer and sweeter. The breeze felt like it was blowing new fragrance into me, and my heart lifted a little. Hope is an interesting thing. The Bible says: A hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. Proverbs 13:12. I have had so many longings fulfilled. I have also had many longings not yet fulfilled. But I also believe not everything is answered right away in the timing we expect. God works in a different time zone or higher manner that is hard to comprehend at times. 

It was definitely not my choice to be without a home, floating around to different houses all summer long, but the end result was that the house we have ended up with is first of all, multiple times better than any place we were placing our applications in for, and that it just wasn't completed until almost the end of summer. Our finite minds couldn't have anticipated that outcome at the time, but I really feel strongly that God knew. Everything falls into place the way it is supposed to, in the best possible way, usually, if we can trust that. Trust in a Higher purpose than we can conceive of. Trusting the ultimate faithfulness of a God who promises good things to His kids.

I left the solace of the deck to go and pick up a free couch that a good friend of mine had hooked us up with. Her dad was giving it away and she thought it would look good in our house. I showed up with my friend Melissa in her little truck, and the couch was in perfect condition, and Pottery Barn, so very nice. We got back on the road to unload it into the house, and there was this older couple standing by the side of the golf course with their hazards on. Melissa stopped and asked if they were okay, as the man leaned against his cane. The woman approached the truck and told us she was taking pictures of the Jeep to sell on craigslist. I looked back at the car and kind of freaked out, because my car has been threatening to die and not making it up hills, in need of a head gasket and new transmission, which would cost more than the car itself is worth. I had been specifically searching for a Jeep, because our new property is bumpy and dusty, but it had to be in the three thousand range, which I came to believe was impossible for a Jeep in good condition. I had recently prayed, "Lord, You're just going to have to put one (a car) right into my direct path because I honestly have no idea how to do this."

I jumped out of the truck, and jogged to the couple displaying their Jeep for pictures. It was beautiful. The engine, perfectly detailed and spotless as though no one has driven the thing. I asked how much they were asking, to which she replied, "$2,700." WHAT. I told them I was going to be the one who buys their car. She laughed and he looked at me and said, "I never say no to a pretty girl." There are more details, which were uncanny, and I am taking it for a test drive and giving a deposit today. I am so excited! It was crazy! I had to share...just what a tiny, little prayer can do to change things in one day. I am a firm believer in this season as one of New Beginnings, cliche' or not, I have been finding it to be true, and I hope that you will too.

Birds

The sky is flawless - not a fluffy cloud in sight. The birds sing, chatter, rustle, feast on bugs in the trees, and make their enchanting chorus in undulating waves of sound. Then, all of the birds quiet down as one solitary bird calls out in pulsing rhythm - (Maybe he's the preacher bird) - but it's short and seemingly to the point, the way a good word should be, and afterward all the other birds once more join in, singing and whistling and sweetly humming their birdsong worship.
Nature is a sanctuary to my soul. It unravels all of the confusion and anxiety, setting it all free to the breeze, carrying all of the pettiness, the mind-war and negative thoughts, away from me, so far away.
The trees are filled with all of the life-breathing joys and beauties, the plants, the grass, wildflowers, weeds, vines, moss, all gently co-existing in peaceful harmony.
The beasts of the field and birds of the air, the creatures in the sea and rivers, all caught up in a euphony that resembles a dance celebrating the uniqueness and unity that are so exquisitely woven together making a life-force, which, if studied, examined, meditated upon, sung and written about, form such a perfect example of how we inhabitants of earth should conduct ourselves and exist.
Then my mind goes to how wonderful it is that each hair on our heads is numbered, each grain of sand accounted for. How loved, how precious we each are to the Creator. Each one of us contain gifts only we can share. I find peace in knowing that I was made in a particular, well-thought-out pattern.
I am not a bird, though I admit I have envied them at times; I am not a turtle or a cow. I happen to be a human, an American female, born light-eyed and pale-skinned, in these times, no mistake, no choice in the matter. There is no use pining to be someone or something different than who I am, (though I do admit to wasting my energy on this at times) unless it's in my conduct, attitude, or beliefs and the way I carry out those creeds in my life with more boldness, acceptance, gentleness, love, kindness. Our greatest good is done when we embrace our true selves, and let that inner-embrace spill over into the way we treat others, especially they who are different than us. That is the beauty of this life - the contrasts, that we are NOT exactly alike, thankfully! How dull would be our days if we all looked alike and believed the same.

a poem:
We are drenched
in our own desires
intertwined in our tendencies
driven mad by our expectations
closed-in by the American dream
our houses are our coffins
we're buried deep in debt
the cars that we drive
end up in rusted heaps
Our educations un-school us
from simply being free
unrestrained by derision, division
to believe is to see?
Cast off imaginations
like cattle wandering off cliffs
we walked blinded to our deaths
creativity halted

embers:
the furnace within my chest
is full with ash and embers
the reason why it burns
i can't hardly remember
I shovel coal atop it
and stir the fire so soft
not one flicker escapes the bricks
to cause my friends to cough
but this burning inside my heart
is flowering out of bounds
don't know how to contain it
before it gathers into mounds.

read at your own risk ;)

Words. I have not written words for a very long time. I ignored this blog. I felt it was silly of me to keep broadcasting feelings that no one seemed to care about. How ridiculous! I don't write for people but because I have to write to BE me.

I keep a journal, but even that plateaued into a desert of dry tab-keeping and list-making. I said to myself, 'I can't write. It takes work to be good and I don't have that in me.' What a lazy human I can be about the things that truly matter and define me. I have written constantly ever since my mother placed a pencil in my tiny hand and put the blank lined page in front of me. I loved to watch that paper fill up with my own stories and sketches of people, houses, trees, clouds.

It's the one place I've always felt I could excel in if I put the work and practice into. Yet here I am at 38 and still hovering around the insecure notion that I would never amount to anything. What a waste. I am determined to give more effort into the things I love. This is a morbid thought, but what would I want my obituary to say? I know that I am a good mother and I try to be a decent wife. I keep my home relatively tidy and I don't fail to water my garden and pluck out its weeds. I love my friends deeply and desperately yet I am very lacking in pursuing friendships and calling or writing. I want to be better at this too... but I've honestly just been so gosh darned exhausted lately. 

I'm not one to embrace complaining because I don't think anything good ever comes from it, including the pity people might give you which some feel supported by, but perhaps that is just another form of pride that I have in my heart. I want to be transparent, but I'm torn between transparency and the feeling that I might overshare in order to be pitied so I avoid sharing at all. This seems like a safe place to share some things, because people get to choose whether or not they want to take the time to click into my blog and read my thoughts. Truth is lately I've been having some major issues. I have not been able to fall asleep naturally without sleep aids since June. This is due in part to sciatic pain which affects me every day in varying degrees. It is in my hips, and the tingling, burning, constant tightness and discomfort runs down my legs and gives me restless leg syndrome at night, like little electric shocks throughout me. I feel like my whole body is pulsating when I try to sleep, so I cannot. So I pop a pill (well, a half usually) to synthetically fall into rest. I've been dealing with fatigue, and this shuts me down and makes me not want to hang out with anybody for some reason. It's very frustrating. 

I see myself as a healthy person: mostly vegetarian and good at taking my supplements and doing some form of light exercise or yoga most days. So this is incredibly irritating to have chronic pain and issues. Nighttime has always been my time to listen. To reflect and meditate and hear what God is saying, what my mind is saying, to assess my state of heart and to adjust accordingly. I haven't been as free to do this lately because of the pain. But I am certainly pressing in consistently, I am not succumbing to discontentment or stagnancy. I have hope and know that things will not always be this way. I will sleep again, I will feel pain-free again, I will be energized once more.

I have to believe that.

I think of all the people over time who have endured any sort of prolonged suffering or pain, and shone brightly in the midst of it, and I am inspired to dig deeper into that. I know I have renewed compassion for people with disorders and disabilities and diseases that aren't visually noticeable now, where before I may have been annoyed with people's complaints of pain or treatments or constant asking for prayer. I wish I could reach out a little more for that but I find it pandering in myself. I'd rather just keep to myself and hope that eventually I'll find the solution through alternative routes like massage, or acupressure or acupuncture, SOMEthing.

This is very hard for me to write, honestly. Not so hard to write, but to actually go through with sharing it and having people know my vulnerability and issues currently. So scary. But scary can be good. I don't think everyone will understand, especially if they've never had chronic pain. It's so weird! Anyone who has had it or is having these types of issues right now, they know it can be a lonely road. Finding the right doctors to help, the right treatment, if any, the ability to communicate what you're feeling and get over the irritating thought of, "But I just want to be BETTER, so maybe if I don't talk about it it doesn't exist." People, I get it. Basically I have neck pain, headaches, fatigue, joint and sciatic pain every day lately. It's crazy. It wasn't there, and then it was suddenly there. Taking over my body, and not going away. 

But it will. I am hopeful.

This post looks so pathetic to me. I want to delete it. I want to hide this and pretend like everything is peachy with me, because the optimistic, sunshiny words look so much better on a page than these kinds. But I'm going to just put this out there into the cyber world. Maybe it will help someone to know they're not alone. Maybe it'll bring light to why I may have been keeping to myself lately. Who knows. 

I guess I'll leave it right there. I'm sorry if anyone clicked on this post hoping for my usual uplifting words of encouragement and had to read this sad junk, haha. 

I love you people. I'm thankful for you. If you need prayers or a friend, I'll try to be there for you.