Seen

I’m working on my need to be seen. In today’s Bible Recap I read Psalm 104. The author is unknown, which I’m realizing even as I write this, helps me to make my point. Tara-Leigh mentioned in the audio portion that this Psalm, all about creation, makes her think of creatures on the bottom of the ocean that we won’t ever see. Creatures God made for His own enjoyment.

They may never be discovered and appreciated by humans.

I experience so much joy when someone reads my work and engages with me about it. I was afraid for a long time that if I ever released my books, I would be disappointed by the lack of interest and interaction they brought me. It kept me from sharing. You can’t be disappointed by an outcome if you never let it come out!

But now I think I’d be okay with remaining as obscure as a tiny, glowing snail on the bottom of the ocean. No one has to find me as long as God enjoys me.

Change – The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly

Some things never change. Depending on circumstance, I may see that as a good thing or a bad one. Today I feel torn.

The Good

This week, I’ve been filled with joy. People have commented on it. I radiate joy, they say. And it’s true. I’m in a much better place now, relying on God. I’ve released so many things into more capable hands.

I earned my first bonus on Kindle Vella. A tiny paycheck, but a victory for me. It isn’t the journey I once dreamed of, but it’s sufficient for me. More than sufficient if my behavior is any indication. I ran through the house celebrating.

The Bad

My lesson today forced me to look at my patterns. It was good timing, because I was in a funk last night. After gushing with excitement in group Thursday night, proclaiming that I had unlocked the secret to being joyful in all circumstances, I found myself slumped on the couch, my arms crossed, refusing to laugh at my favorite sitcom the very next night. Actually resisting feeling good.

The Ugly

So have I changed? I need to, because the person whose attitude toward me keeps bringing me down isn’t going to. I’m so close to getting past the thing that’s holding me back. How one person sees me. This person’s view of me is neither good, nor bad, nor ugly.

It is indifferent.

One person, who doesn’t hear me or see me, no matter what I say or do, has the power to steal my joy.

That has to change.

Humility

I’ve noticed a pattern in my recovery that isn’t exactly following the steps in the re:generation books. They say to trust the process, so I’ve been doing that. But today I feel it’s important to point out that even trusting the process can be problematic. At least if you take it literally. For my current struggle, I need to rephrase it.

Trust God to work in you through the process.

I know I’m nitpicking here, but it makes a huge difference in a mind like mine. (Still working on the perfectionism.)

Themes – My Personal Steps

When I first started Groundwork, I also did a women’s Bible study on the book of Isaiah. I’m an overachiever, often teased for my tendency to get ahead of the lessons and finish first. But I was seeking God, and I heard a message loud and clear.

Rest

So I did. I had my gallbladder removed during that study, but it wasn’t why I didn’t complete the work. I simply needed rest. I stopped filling in my book halfway through, and then I even fasted from writing from Thanksgiving to New Year.

The next theme was trust. I couldn’t have released my story had I not completed this step. This one is straight out of my re:gen work, so I do see the process there. I believe the process works. But my next theme has me reevaluating some things.

Creator vs. Created

In my previous post, I mentioned my quiet time routine. There are several components, and sometimes I’m in the Word for a couple hours before I start my writing. This is huge for me, because I had long held the belief that my best writing happened first thing in the morning. I was dogmatic about it. I’m still really glad I gave this over, because I see great changes coming from a switch in my priorities.

However …

I didn’t mean to do it, but I feel like I gave credit for my heart change to that process. This understanding came to me through a couple things other people said, which generated thoughts in my head that didn’t belong there.

One was a comparison between how I study and how someone else does. As she was speaking, I started thinking her way is better. I would get better faster if I did what she was doing. Oops! That’s putting my trust in a routine. What I’m doing works for me.

The other was something my husband said, which sent my thoughts in the opposite direction. He said I was doing better than he was. It’s not like him to say something like that, to compare at all, so I stewed over it. He wasn’t being sarcastic. He was proud of me. It felt nice, but again, my thoughts lingered on the process.

Humility

My next theme is humility. I have to stop thinking I have things figured out.

I’ve always had confidence in my ability to figure things out. I felt like I had done that. Starting my day right, in the Word, kicked me off for success, and my heart was getting all lined up. And I still think that’s true. My relationship with God is getting stronger every day.

But I’ve become ritualistic. When I have to stop in the middle of my quiet time to address something, I feel angry about it, as if part of my joy for the day has been stolen from me. My joy shouldn’t come from a routine.

I’m not sure what will change as a result of this revelation. And I don’t mind that at all.

Hands Up!

Falling With Style

I’ve noticed that I tend to post most of my updates when I’m struggling. I said I was in free fall, and I scared a few people. It earned me some hugs and concerned questions at church yesterday.

I wasn’t bluffing, but I failed to mention the good part. The rush, the anticipation of the journey back up. Slower, but so much better. My stomach is back where it belongs, and I’m not getting off the ride. I’m going over the next hill with my hands up.

I have thirteen episodes on Vella, and I’m establishing a routine. This is difficult for me. I’m a pantser, a project hopper, a total brat. I write what I want, when I want. But no more. Now I have to figure out how to balance my episode schedule, the writing of season four, getting my illustrator to start on the cover of Sam and Millie, converting my even longer series (Collected) into episodic form, and all the CG leader and mom/wife stuff. Not in that order.

God First

I do my quiet time first thing in the morning. Bible Recap first, then other studies. Re:generation, WBS, gratitude journal, prayer list, then the really good stuff. Talking to God. I’ve come so far. Months ago, I had lost my faith that He was good. Now I curl up and cry from relief at how I trust Him. My prayers are sometimes just lists of all the things I can see that I didn’t see before. And that’s why my hands are up.

My Vellas and my books may never be read, but I will be satisfied. Now I’m free.

Who Do I Think I Am?

Imposter Syndrome

Inevitably, it got me. Yesterday was so good. I felt surrounded by love and support. I was sure great things were about to happen. Then comes the drop. I know the roller coaster analogy is overused, but it’s only because it’s so accurate. I’m in free fall. Today I’m asking myself why I thought I could be a writer. Who do I think I am?

It happens to all writers, they say, and I think it’s true. Maybe there are some who are so well-adjusted, or so weathered, they can share their work without a moment of doubt. Some may just be that arrogant. It’s not really a sign that I’m a fraud. It’s a sign that I’m doing something difficult.

It’s stopping me from working today. I have plenty to do. I could schedule more episodes, work on season 4, take a gander at other projects that are ready to get their start, or do this. Dump my day-after blues on my blog. I chose this because I want to be raw and real. Also, because writing through my anxieties seems to calm them.

Footprint

Part of my re:gen work includes writing a letter to my future self. It’s perfect, because I say all the time on my good days that I need to find a way to communicate my temporary clarity to myself on my bad days. I wrote my first footprint last week, on a good day. So why not check it out? I definitely need some clarity.

I won’t share it all here, because it’s long. But the last part spoke to me, and maybe it will speak to someone else.

Remember on the bad days that the devil wants to knock you down. He’s rubbing his hands together now, because your cup is getting full. You don’t have to fight him, because the battle belongs to the LORD.

Do It Scared

Advice From a Pro

I went to my first meeting with a writers’ group last weekend. I’ve been writing off and on since I was twelve years old, so this was long overdue. The guest speaker is a friend of mine from an online writers’ group. She gave me some advice when I told her how afraid I was to take the next steps with my work.

Do it scared!

I told my husband and my re:generation group what she said, and everyone agreed. It’s time for me to go for it. I wanted to change the message and say I would do it brave. That sounds better to me. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized they’re the same thing. I put my characters through all manner of difficulty, forcing them into their storms. But I’ve got hundreds–yes HUNDREDS– of episodes ready to go, and I’m sitting on them. Not even putting a toe into the wind.

I went to Kindle Vella to set up an account, just to get ready for when I worked up the nerve to publish. And before I knew it, my story was live. Brave, scared, or just plain stupid, I’m not sure yet. But it’s there. I don’t know if I’m more afraid I’ll be seen or that I won’t be. It’s not exactly negative feedback that I fear. It’s my reaction to it. I’m a sort-of anti-Sword of Gryffidor. I only take on that which makes me weaker. I definitely need to turn that around.

Armored Up

To keep moving forward, I have to remind myself daily that I’m not alone. I wrote out a list of the people God has placed around me, and it’s overwhelming. My re:gen girls, my CG, my WBS girls, my WANA peeps, my family. It goes on and on. How did I feel so alone only a few months ago? Maybe by hiding in the closet in my closet?

No more hiding! Nicole and I are stepping out together. Into the storm.

Cover art, girl walking into dark woods holding a lantern

Shady Creek, Season 1 of the Carousel Series

Step One

Admit

I’m nailing this whole blogging thing, right? I’ve finished groundwork and am already in a re:generation closed group, starting week two of step one, and I haven’t shared anything since … well, whenever. I considered giving up on this whole thing and admitting that I’m not a blogger. I’m not, after all. I prefer to write what I want, when I want. So basically, I’m spoiled. But that’s not even what I’m working on in re:gen.

My Struggles

I spent a lot of time figuring out why I was there, aside from being pestered into it. Kidding, but not kidding. Now, I’ve narrowed down my list to the bare bones of what’s putting the hitch in my get-along. I’m told it will change as I continue the steps, but right now, I feel like I know what I need to work on.

My intro goes like this:

“I’m Rachel, and I have a new life in Christ. I struggle with perfectionism, low self-esteem and fear of success.”

Yeah, you read that right. Fear of success. But I’m not going to dive into that one yet. I don’t even understand it. What I do understand is that I spent entirely too much time deliberating whether or not to use the Oxford Comma in my list of struggles.

Ah, perfectionism.

Some of you love that comma, and some of you hate it. You may think one way is correct, and the other is incorrect. Some of you are googling Oxford Comma. And now I’m stressed out, because I can’t please everyone.

I can lose hours on a single comma. And I’m a fiction writer! We use commas like rests in a sheet of music, and that’s totally okay. Fragments are super cool. Like this! But my persuasive paper writing brain wants to get involved and tell me that I’ll alienate readers if I don’t follow the rules.

I think I just accidentally figured out why I fear success. At least part of it. It’s so much easier not to worry about what people think when no one knows I exist.

Loneliness Beckons

Sink or Float

All week long, I’ve circled the pool, eyeing the water and coming close to dipping a toe in. But not quite. A dip will break the surface. There are things under there that can grab me. The water is still, so I can see what’s below. Some of the things I tied down with bricks are working their way up. Doubts. I consider confronting them, but I’m not sure if they’ll sink or if I will.

There are things left unsaid. They’ll find their way onto the pages of someone else’s story. Nicole’s, most likely. But what about my story? I’m trying so hard not to hear the doubts. They’re clever and convincing. They play chess with emotions. Say it or don’t say it. Chew on it. Hide. Don’t lie, but don’t ever come completely out of the cave. There’s that little secret thing that makes it where you can exit quietly and then be angry when no one notices. Hold that like an ace up your sleeve so you can use it again when things get iffy. Hold onto it like your therapist can’t see it. But maybe she does. Maybe she has all along. If you hide it today, it has to stay hidden.

Loneliness waves from the shadows and crooks his finger. He’s so predictable that it’s almost comforting to think about curling up with him. He doesn’t ask questions or criticize. He wants company badly enough to accept anyone. It’s so easy.

I don’t want to go to him, so I dip my toes in the water. “Let’s do this.”

Missing the Murky

I wrote the piece above months ago when I was about to stop going to therapy. It was the only thing I wrote during that time that I never shared with my therapist. The lure of loneliness is strong. If it becomes your crutch, you can actually miss it when you start doing better.

I’ve been studying the gift of desperation this week, both in re:generation and in my women’s Bible study. And I see a pattern in my past. When I think I’ve beaten my demons, I stop seeking help. And then I wander back into my cave, at first out of habit, and then out of fear. I don’t have to tell anyone how I’m feeling when I’m there. I don’t have to deal with how I’m feeling.

Trust the Process

They say it all the time and even comment on how often they say it. Trust the process. After six weeks, I feel so strong, not tempted by my cave. I feel connected to my group leaders and fellow group members. My habits are better, my quiet time is solid. I’m even praying again. It would be so easy now to throw out my chest and declare myself well. We have a few bottles of antibiotics in our medicine cabinet with one or two pills left in them for this exact reason. When the symptoms settle, we think we’re healed.

But I’m staying the course, trusting the process. There really are things still tied down that I’m not excited to see coming to the surface. But I’m going to face them, and I’m not alone.

Your Thoughts

Do you find isolation comforting?

The Grumpies

Today I’m trapped in an angry brain space. Triggered, frustrated, not in a good mood. I have tools but don’t want to use them. Don’t want to make memes or be cute. I’ve been trying to figure out what got me here, but I just don’t know. I could blame things that annoyed me, but I sail through those things on better days. This is internal. Deep.

Maybe it’s because I only got three hours of sleep last night. Or maybe I only got three hours of sleep because I was already trapped. I get nighttime anxiety, like my sanity goes down with the sun. And if I have to get up the next day, it’s worse. Tired, hangry, loaded with coffee, I went to church today and immediately got a burr under my skin. Then I talked about it, claimed it, dwelled on it. People helped me out of it, and then I went back in.

Whatever this is, I want it gone.

If I hadn’t promised to be raw and real, I would wait a few days and delete this, never share it on my blog. It doesn’t feel like I’m helping anyone, just dumping the grumpies. But I promised dark corners, and here they are. Sometimes I’m just mad. And now that I’ve written it, here come the tears.

Road Rage

At re:generation, I’m supposed to keep it about me. How I handle a situation, not about what’s been done to me. Normally, I excel at this, because being hard on myself is my superpower.

My favorite sticker

But during the first week of groundwork, I had an assignment. Pick a struggle and conquer it for a whole day. Paraphrased, of course.

Groundwork is work

I chose staying chill when people drive stupidly. And I discovered that I’m perfectly capable of making things NOT about my reaction. Purely about what’s being done-not always to me-but in front of me. It might be strange for a fantasy writer to say this, but I like to stay in the lines. If we all follow the rules, we can avoid the false-start-tango at four-way stops. Just take your turn and assume I’m going to take mine. And off we go.

Not so simple, sadly. I get equally annoyed with the jerk who breezes through when they know VERY WELL that I stopped first, and the person who hesitates, hitting brakes, gas, brakes … wasting my time. My husband resolutely stops during such events, not bothered, listening to songs inside his head. But me? There’s no room for music when adrenaline is making your heart push steam out your ears!

“Just go!” I shout, my stomach concocting something sour out of whatever I nibbled before I left. Now I’m in a bad mood. The people who parked in the driving lane make me angrier. And don’t get me started on people who merge onto the highway slowly or dare to drive under the speed limit in the fast lane. My car could run itself on the heat rolling off my skin. Tired of gas prices? Fill your tank with my fury.

I said groundwork was work, right?

So, of course, I chose that. I had to drive my son to work without losing my temper. I needed my therapist in the seat beside me, demonstrating how to relax tension. Heck, just her voice.

But my son was there, and I had told him what I was going to attempt. So much as an eye twitch, he was going to see it.

Nailed it

I prayed about it, left early enough to drive as slowly as necessary, and skipped the angry songs I use to help me imagine how I’m going to write my gladiator battle scenes. And I made it. One day of not getting mad at other people for not driving the way I think they should. But don’t get too happy for me. One day. I still have a long way to go.

Your thoughts?

I’d love to hear from you! Does anything make you crazy on the road? Better yet, do you have any tips for conquering this demon?