Tag Archives: emotional release

Breaking free

It’s endlessly fascinating (and often exhausting) being a type 4/winter. I simply love studying, things, ideas, all the things the Lord created, people and their behaviors – even myself! LOL
So, I have been really mindful of watching myself when I start using FB more (I am using it again… that phrasing is very interesting in light of this post) because I know, unfortunately, it’s a way to avoid emotions (yes, that works for everyone! *sarcasm*). Now I’ve done it for so long as a “coping mechanism” that it’s a scary habit, without thought.

One day, Daryl and I were driving back home together after I picked him up from work. He was talking while I held a book in my hands. I was engaged with him, but I realized I was fiddling with the book in my hands. I was thumbing it… as though it were a tablet or smart phone. That was the moment, in horror, that I decided to start studying myself, so that online time is without thought, without meaning or intention.

Last night happened so sneakily.

Daryl read me a paper about the county demanding property tax or they would send out a warrant for his arrest by X date (what the crap – debtors prison is supposed to be illegal!). I knew I was immediately pissed off with governments literally putting you at gunpoint to pay extortion  “taxes.” I knew within an hour I was not only pissed off, I was taking it out at the family by not being gracious with anything. And within 20 minutes of that, after several days of pretty limited social media, I was on for an hour solid. Stewing. I got off when I realized what I was doing.

Okay. One trigger… stress and anger.

The interesting thing, to me is, that I caught it rather quickly that I was “crutching” right then. It didn’t take me days or weeks or more.

Now, to make a list of things to, not only avoid using the device, but to get at the root issues of emotion:

“I need to journal a LOT, blog a little bit, and facebook rarely.”

Community Hopes

A few years ago, I really, truly thought someone had traveled a long way to come visit me for my birthday. I knew for certain they were already traveling about half-way. I was so psyched out and excited even though I kept saying out loud, “no, I don’t know for sure that they are coming.” But, the person I was SO hoping to see was known for surprises, so it was hard not to get too excited. I asked Daryl if he knew anything about them coming and he said no – but I thought he was in on it.
I’d just had a miscarriage about a month and a half before my birthday and it was my emotionally hardest one of all 8 miscarriages. I had finally started coming through the depression when that weekend happened. When Sunday rolled around and I knew for sure that the person wasn’t coming, I could barely get out of bed, I was so heartbroken.
I have questioned my belonging in some areas over the last little while, and I kept telling myself that I was going to see something surprising and encouraging when I came home, but I found nothing of what I was anticipating. I know I could still be surprised, but my anticipation in it is now gone.
This time, I am not huddled on my bed, feeling discouraged and isolated though. I am finding promise that I need to seek what I am needing in different ways, to invest more deeply in the individuals I’ve always loved, and not hold expectations for certain things that I am really hoping for. Let hope thrive, but not expect. ❤

What are some lessons you are learning in your emotional life right now?

Saved Through Childbearing


As the “guess date” for little Stryder’s arrival came close, I was as prepared as I could be. I was certainly anxious. I was grateful no one had been pushy about asking the “due date” (they’re not a library book or a rental payment) or if I’d had the baby yet…
You get ready enough for the baby to come, even when you are willing to let baby grow within momma as long as they need.

I’d planned a family birth after much research and soul-searching. It’s the most liberating, trusting thing I had done in awhile, to trust that God is in control and whatever comes is not to be feared.

I had been reading a book called The POWER of Pleasurable Childbirth, by Laurie Morgan. Many of the things she wrote have resonated deeply with me. I am grateful to have read this before, as I near the birth of our next little blessing, now.

The things that stuck out to me the most are these two quotes (italics my own):

I have come to advocate complete parental acceptance of responsibility in birth, and a certain degree of self instruction equips parents to differentiate between necessary and frivolous intervention in emergency situations. I’ve learned that even apparently minor decisions can have serious implications, so that no decision should be left solely in the hands of a care provider. Is it essential to remember that earthly “experts” just don’t qualify for the amount of faith so frequently placed upon them by the average modern parent.


While reading hundreds of birth stories, I noticed that something funny happens when a woman gives birth unattended. When there is only mom and baby in control, suddenly mom becomes accountable for the outcome. This can happen regardless of how the woman felt about birth before. The reason so many women forget to eat, drink, pee, poop, walk, dance, masturbate, un-loop the umbilical cord, etc. during an attended labor is that the have given up their responsibility for their birth to an outsider. When she is alone, however, a woman will find within herself the strength and wisdom to birth her baby just as she needs to. Choosing to birth alone certainly allows one to plan better than doing so accidentally. It is possible to choose to ignore one’s own inner wisdom too, which leads to the many dangers I have outlined so far and more.

You know, I don’t really believe that the verse in Scripture that talks about “saved through childbearing” (1 Timothy 2:15) is necessarily spiritual OR physical. I think it’s emotional salvation. I could be wrong. I haven’t studied it in-depth just yet. Call me crazy, but in each of my births, I have found more liberation as a human being… as a woman, as a mother, as a wife.

Pregnancy places women into a strange emotional realm where we can connect more deeply, if we allow ourselves to, with issues we have been pushing aside/ignoring but need to be addressed.

I lived almost a decade with a husband (now ex) that abused me emotionally and with-held sex from me as long as he could… while he sexually, emotionally, and spiritually abused my daughter, his own blood.

I did not realize until the end of my pregnancy with Stryder, that I still willingly would place myself under great abuse and manipulation in the hopes that I will be helping the abuser “get better” because I loved them! That is truly messed up. When I realized that I was enabling a family member (not immediate) to abuse my family, I chose to put an end to it.

Stryder’s pregnancy enabled me to see that in many ways, I had hardened my heart to those I had known for a long time, as I had massive distrust issues after the criminal trial against my ex-husband. I saw how terrible I had been viewing… everyone (including myself)… and my heart broke. I began choosing love, intentional love, even when my mind screamed at me to distrust anyone and everyone.

Loving and setting boundaries for safety/health.

Pregnancy and birth, I have found, really can save women. Save her heart, her spirit, her mind… if she allows herself to take responsibility for herself, her baby, and her laboring. It comes down to that parental acceptance of responsibility… which will flow from wanting to be personally responsible to begin with.

Rot, Part 1


In my style, I’m going to wind my way to what led me here. To writing about one rotting tooth.

This last weekend, I decided to have my first active appointment with the therapist who deals with repressed memories, among other things. It was basically an appointment to establish a backwards life line. We started at my current age to the beginning of the decade-age, and by chunks worked back to my earliest memories.

Something interesting happened that I wasn’t expecting. I expected emotional responses. But I didn’t expect anything starkly physical.


While discussing Doctor Horrible, I could feel my body go numb. Like, truly numb all over. My emotions matched, and I simply gave data about what we went through in our marriage. That was strange in itself because… I loved him. As compared to my first husband, who I could admit early on in my life that I married out of fear… I had not only fallen in love with Doctor Horrible, but had chosen to love him fiercely through many difficult times and situations. I thought, going in, I was going to weep, but instead, I instinctively numbed myself to him and it, except when I couldn’t.
When I couldn’t stay numb, was when I said I felt a certain way about the time after finding out Melody had been assaulted, and to clarify, the therapist said, “so you felt like her protector?” I had, I still do, but I’d never given that feeling or responsibility a title before, and to hear it and accept it felt scary and heavy and holy. The knowledge that it was only God who held me there for her, stung me. I cried. I felt completely inadequate to the task, even though I knew I had done it with Him.

When we got to the period of my life with my first husband, I laughed almost the entire way through. The only time I stopped laughing was when I mentioned my grandparents giving me a life-line, sending me care packages and letting me know fully that they loved me even after I’d run away from home. I started crying to feel that love wash over me, love that filled me when I had put myself in isolation with a crazy man and my parents were understandably too hurt to reach out to me the way my grandparents had, love that I come to understand more as I grow older… love I learn to honor more each year. But that knowledge has come with regret. My grandmother died without me telling her how precious that love was, without really knowing I’d escaped my crazy husband, without hearing me tell her she’d been my best friend during my childhood. I had this brief opportunity and moment with my grandpa, but the thought of him now being dead, too, washed over me, and I couldn’t help but weep, laying on a table. I knew I felt regret, but I wasn’t expecting what happened next. Shooting, blinding pain in my right shoulder blade. The therapist asked to touch me and applied pressure under me to relieve the pain, but it remained until I allowed myself to cry it out and talk about other things. Then, the pain vanished.

When we got back to my school years, my body became cold. I started shaking, and while I registered that I was, it took me a few minutes to realize my body was telling me what this time period meant to me, uncontrollably – fear. When I stopped talking about my childhood, within less than a minute, I was not cold and I wasn’t shaking. Suddenly, my body felt heavy… but not in a bad way. It felt like I settled.

I’m bringing this all up for a bunch of reasons, but mostly because, I came home and started digging for what emotions these physical responses were linked to. It wasn’t very surprising, actually. Shoulder pain is linked to regret, which while feeling overwhelmed with the knowledge of my grandparent’s love, I was feeling intense regret.

This led me to starting to wonder about other ailments and their emotional connection. Like my tooth. I’ll get to that, in my next post.