Exchanging the Negative for the Positive

I'm finally starting to feel better from my surgery!
After a long 4 1/2 weeks, I'm almost feeling
100% back to normal!  Yay!  :-)
Thanks to all those who have been praying
for me, who have visited, for all the FB
messages, and for keeping me company!

Even though I posted a few days ago, I'd like to apologize for disappearing for over a month…But I promise I have a valid excuse for my temporary disappearance! ;-)

In my time away I had the last few weeks of school – which included two major projects and finals.  I also had an unexpected adventure that included an ambulance ride to the ER, hospitalization, pancreatitis, and emergency surgery to have my gallbladder removed!  It’s been a busy month, needless to say.

The cool thing is, I had a negative experience with a couple of the nurses while hospitalized.  I know that doesn’t sound “cool” – but I’ll get to that.  Here’s the story of my hospitalization, and why I think my bad experience was a positive one…in the end. 

For the last few months I’ve been struggling with on and off stomach problems.  I went to see a doctor who told me that my issues were more than likely related to a glutton allergy, and then she sent me home.

A few weeks later I had a friend coming to town.  This friend and I lived together as flat mates (aka: roommates) in London and I hadn’t seen her since my time in England…It had been two years!  I was excited about this reunion.

The day before she came, I was having intense stomach pains that I chose to ignore.  Then she came, and I felt mostly okay.

My friend had plans to leave on Monday morning around 9 or 10.  However, at 5:45 am on that Monday morning, I woke up with pain in the middle of my back and feeling nauseous.  I called an advice nurse who made an appointment for me at noon, and left a message at work letting them know I wouldn’t be there that day – all before 6:30.

Before I knew it, the pain was worse.  The pain was so intense I was doubled over and couldn’t straighten my back.  Although I have a high tolerance for pain, I found myself doing the ugly cry.  (Us girls especially know that ugly cry!!  But this ugly cry was definitely uglier than the “PS: I Love You movie ugly cry.)

I woke my mom up around 7:30, who then decided it was best to call for an ambulance.  By about 10:00 I was already diagnosed with the pancreatitis, stuck gallstones, and found my way out of the ER to a room in the hospital for an extended stay.

Here’s where the fun part of the story begins.

I had to wait a couple of days before the doctor could remove my gallbladder.  To have it removed, we had to get my pancreatitis under control…meaning I couldn’t eat or drink anything.  I was only allowed IV fluids.

By the time I was allowed to have surgery, I was feeling okay.  No more intense pain.  No more being doubled over.  No more ugly cry.

The day of the surgery, I decided to shower.  I knew if I didn’t shower then – it’d be a few days before I’d have a chance to shower again.  So, I went to my bathroom to do so.

As I’m undressing out of the hospital gown, my attending nurse flung my door open and entered the room without knocking, or asking if it was okay.

As quickly as possible I caught the gown before it hit the floor, trying to cover myself.  I told her, “Excuse me – I’m trying to get into the shower.”  She said, “Oh, don’t worry – it’s just me.”  Wanting a bit of privacy, and irritated by the unwelcomed intrusion on my preference of modesty, I told her, “I don’t care who you are...whether you’re my mother, or my nurse.  I like privacy.”  Ignoring what I told her, she continued entering my bathroom to do whatever she needed to do, as I stood there trying to stay modest. 

While I recognize she is use to seeing the human body in its natural form, I also know that I’m not use to being in these situations.  I’m not use to others seeing me undressed.  Being hospitalized is not something I do often, and I still craved a bit of dignity in that situation. 

Then, I had my surgery…and the fun continued…with the same nurse.

One of the possibly side affects of having anesthesia is having your bladder “go to sleep”.  While not everyone experiences this, and while I hadn’t experienced this before in previous surgeries, this time I did.

Once awake, I called my nurse in request to go to the bathroom.  She helped me up and I tried to relieve myself, but I couldn’t. 

About an hour or so later, I called my nurse again to request more help.  She came in and told me, “I’m helping another patient right now – I’ll be right back to help you.”  Totally understanding and with patience, I waited.

I waited so long for her to come and assist me that I fell asleep.  By the time I woke up, I was extremely uncomfortable, as I really need to use the restroom.  I was still on IV fluids this whole time – increasing the need to “go” – and I hadn’t gone to the bathroom since before having surgery  (which had been more than a few hours).

Calling her into my room, she finally helped me.  Yet, my bladder was still sleeping.

Due to the side affect of not being able to use the bathroom, they decided it was best to use a catheter until everything started working properly.

My nurse tried and tried to insert the catheter.  If you’ve ever had to get a catheter – you know that this is an uncomfortable experience, physically and mentally.  After about 10 minutes of her trying, I eventually told her, “You need to get someone else to do this.  I can’t do this anymore.  This isn’t working.”  Although I requested her to find help, she continued to try.  I told her again, “No.  I’m serious.  You have to stop and get help.”  Finally, she listened to my request.

When my nurse returned with help, the lady who came to help took one look at me, looked at my nurse, and exclaimed with attitude, “What is THAT on her face?!?”  I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes or something in reaction to her statement (Yay for pain meds??), as she then asked my nurse with persistent attitude, “Oh.  Is that something she’s had for a while??”

The lady talked about me, in front of me, but not to me.  She ignored the fact that I was there.  She ignored the fact, and forgot, I’m not just “something to look at” that is different.  She forgot that, although I am a patient, I’m also a human.  A person…A person who has feelings, who can hear her comments infused with attitude, and who could see the expression of her face during her reaction.

I know that it’s possible that she may of thought, “Maybe this is a reaction to medication or something else.”  That’s a reasonable possibility that I completely understand. However, the way she went about it was all wrong.  If she had that concern – she should have either asked me about it (kindly), or if she chose to ask the other nurse about it, she shouldn’t have done it in front of me in that shocking manner. 

As the assisting nurse started to help with the catheter, both she and my nurse started calling me by the name of “Carl”.  Thinking I must have misunderstood them the first time or two, I ignored it.  But by the fourth time of them using the name, I spoke up by saying, “Ummm…My name isn’t Carl.”  They replied in shock, “Oh, it’s not???”  I told them (again, remember, I’m on drugs, in a lot of pain, am frustrated, and am a little more blunt at this point), “No.  It’s not.  My name is Crystal.  That would be an ugly girl’s name.”  They told me, “What??  Crystal is a BEAUTIFUL girl’s name!”  Sarcastically I said, “No.  The name you’ve called me about four times – Carl – would be an ugly girl’s name.”

Once the catheter was in, I started to cry.  The whole thing was uncomfortable, I was in pain, and was miserable from surgery.  My nurse then told me, “It’s okay to cry.  I once got a shot and cried too.”

…What???  A catheter and shot are NOT nearly the same thing - at all.

During the rest of my time with that nurse, she would ask me, “What is your pain level?”  I’d tell her, “I’m at an eight right now.”  She would then say, “Oh, so you’re not in any pain?”  Or, another thing she would ask, “Do you want or need any pain medication?”  I would tell her, “Yes, I do.  I’m hurting really badly.”  She then would say, “Okay.  You don’t need any medication??”  I’d then explain, “No.  I do need pain medication!  I’m at an eight on the pain level scale.”

That nurse was an adventure…A frustrating adventure, but an adventure all the same – and a story to tell.

Before I get to the good, positive part, there is another story I need to explain.

Three weeks after surgery my doctor wanted me to have blood work done, making sure all my levels were okay and that the pancreatitis was completely gone.

Walking up to the check-in counter, the lady asked me for my medical record number and to see my ID.  Then she turned our conversation straight to my birthmark.

Instead of asking me about my day, or whatever, she asked me, “What kind of make up do you use to cover your hematoma??”  Mentally, I thought, “Hematoma??  It’s not a hematoma – but I’ll ignore that.”  I told her, “I use Cover Girl.”  She proceeded, “Oh, you should try using Bare Minerals!  It covers things like that really well.  I have a red spot on my nose, and you can’t even tell it’s red – can you??”  I then explained, “No thank you.  I don’t feel the need to hide my birthmark.  Even if it is a little frustrating at times, I figure it gives me a unique way to help and educate people – so why not embrace it?”  She replied, “That’s true.  I guess other people are more bothered by it than someone like you, who has it.”

I really don’t think the lady meant any harm in her statements and recommendation.  Her voice was 100% friendly and had no indication of attitude; unlike many other situations I’ve encountered.  Yet, I still felt bothered.

Going into the hospital to have lab work done, three weeks after surgery, I really don’t want to focus on my birthmark.  That’s not the intention of my visit.

I also did not ask for make up recommendations.  It’d be different if I had asked, “Your make up looks really good!  What brand do you use?” - but I didn’t.

There’s also the issue, especially in a hospital setting, of her assuming I had a hematoma.  In a sense, she was assuming a diagnosis for my birthmark being something different.  And had I tried the make up she mentioned, and had a reaction, the hospital is then liable due to their staff member’s advice.

And personally/mentally?  Her recommendation of changing make up interpreted in my head as, “Here – try this make up so you can hide your face.”…And that hurts.

Some people tell me, “She’s only trying to help”, or “She sees you wear makeup.  Maybe she thought you were trying to hide the birthmark.”  Both are valid thoughts, but my opinion?  There’s nothing to help…and in this day in age, I have a laptop, an iPhone, and I know how to use Wi-Fi access.  I’ve tried other make up.  Ican’t stand them, and choose not to use them for many reasons other than the discomfort and expensive cost of the special brands.  However, even if I hadn’t tried them yet, if I wanted another make up option, I know I can ask friends, go to Macy’s, or Google my options.

Besides, if a woman with curly hair walks up to her counter, does she tell them, “My dear girl – your hair is really curly!  I know of this GREAT hair straightener to help you straighten out that problem.”  She probably doesn’t.  That woman was born with her curly hair…It’s a part of who she is and maybe a part of her signature look – just like my birthmark is a part of me.

If these situations didn't happen on such a regular basis, I probably wouldn't have frustrated with this one…But these situations do start to wear me out, and it's not a good feeling when they happen as often as they do.  When people tell me this situation isn't really a "big deal", I often wonder if they would think and feel the same thing if they wore my shoes for a few days.

Also, in addition, moments like this make me wonder, “Why can’t strangers – whether they be hospital employees or the general public – talk to me about who I am as a person?  Why do they have to bring up the birthmark?  Why not just ask me how my day is going?  About my favorite hobby, or summer plans?  I’m a person – just like them…A person who has so much more depth than the color of her patch of purple skin.  Why do they forget that?”

Even though I don’t think she meant any harm, and overall I feel like I’m a confident person, my concern is – what if the next person this happens to isn’t??  What if they struggle 1,000 times more than I do??  How will it affect their already struggling confidence level?

When I walk into a hospital, I expect to feel safe when talking with hospital employees.  I should feel comfortable.  Employees in a hospital, or even dental setting, should expect “different” people to walk through the door…and while they can wonder if my facial difference is a hematoma or a reaction to medication, they shouldn’t assume that when they address it.  Instead, they should ask, “Is that a hematoma?”  Or, “Do you mind if I ask what causes your face to have a purplish look?” 

Oh, but hey - here’s where the positive part comes in!

While I was still in the hospital, my mom called a hospital manager and made a complaint about the nurses.  She was not my nurse for any more of my time there, and the manager was extremely disappointed about how things took place with her.  While talking with the manager, my mom then casually mentioned, “I’m sure that once my daughter feels better, if you’d like, she’d be more than happy to come and talk with your staff and do a sensitivity training.” 

He was thrilled at the idea and told her he would mention it to his boss.  He liked the idea a lot, but had to receive permission needed to allow me to do this. 

When I told a nurse I really liked about the possibility of doing a sensitivity training, she told me with encouragement, “If you do this and I hear about it – I will be the first one to sign up to attend.”

The same idea was mentioned to another manager in charge of the lab department, and she too is asking for the permission needed for me to come to her department to share about my experiences, about sensitivity, and my patient insight. (I do have to make a note - when talked with the manager of the lab, I did let them know that I don't think their employee meant any harm.  I also pointed out that she also probably didm' realized how what she said could come across - and did come across - and that she spoke with kindness…However, I still believe it was still unprofessional.)

Not only did we have phone conversations with these two managers, but I also had an in-person meeting with a third manager who is also in charge of the hospital department. 

She felt horrible about the whole experience.  The birthmark portion, but also the negative parts unrelated to my birthmark.  She also asked me an unexpected question.

The manager asked me if I would be willing to participate in a hospital committee that consists of hospital leadership, doctors, and a few patients.  She wants me to share my stories with them, and feels that with my age and unique situation, I’d be a value to their committee.  She told me, “I love listening to you talk!  You are inspiring.”

I still have to be voted into their committee and have a background check, but even the possibility of being added in and possibly making a difference excites me.

Many people ask me what hospital all my experiences take place at.  Truthfully?  I know that doesn’t matter.  I hear stories from other people with similar experiences from across the country and world.  These things can happen anywhere, and everywhere – and they do.  And my goal is not to put any hospital down in any way, because I know that won’t accomplish anything.  That wouldn’t be a very impactful strategy while trying to help make a positive change.

These experiences aren’t my first like this in a hospital setting.  For years I’ve been ignoring people’s comments and remarks, choosing not to speak up.

I’ve finally hit that age and point where I’ve decided, “It’s time to take off the ‘I’m frustrated’ hat and time to change it in for a, ‘I’m going to do something about this’ hat instead.”  Within the last year alone, I've had four negative experiences in the same hospital.  (Please read It's Just a Birthmark! for the other stories.)  The thing is – I finally realized that I can make a difference.  I can make an impact.  My voice, my story, can be heard if I just speak up.  Maybe my personal attempt at change will be small, but overtime, maybe a bigger change can be made just by my tiny attempt and step.

When, and if, I really get to go and speak to all the nurses and to the different committees and departments of the hospital, I know that I’m not just raising my own voice.  I’m a representative for everyone who has ever had similar, unnecessary, experiences.  By finally speaking up, hopefully I can make a big enough difference for at least one person…One person who may not get the same negative treatment, just because I am speaking up.

I think this is a reminder from God that He has so many special, and unexpected, plans for my life.  His dreams for me are bigger than my own.  Had you told me two years ago that God would be opening these doors I never knew were possible, I don’t know if I would have believed you.

I’m excited to see where this goes, as even the most ugly situations can become the most beautiful.

The Travelin’ Chick,

Crystal

PS: For those of you who remember that I was hospitalized in Norway back in the summer of 2012, my doctors told me that more than likely, it was my gallbladder giving me problems then too.  Mystery solved??  (You can read Beautiful Norway on that story.  It's much shorter than this entry.)

Thankful

I know there is a trend taking place on Facebook with people posting on thing they are thankful for each day in the month of November.  While I think that is a great thing to do, I decided to just put all 30 things/people in list together for my blog.

I'm thankful for…

• My parents.  They are fantastic.  But if you read my blog entry, "A Home to Return to", there will be listed many reasons as to why my parents are so great!

• My dog, Miss Ruby Ann.  I've had her since I was about 15-years-old, and she really is a bright spot in my life.  

• College…I'm thankful for college!  The other day, someone asked me, "How are your classes going?"  I told him, "Fantastic!"  Because he knows me so well, he looked at me surprised asking, "Are you being sarcastic right now?"  I had to insist that I wasn't.  This is the first semester I've actually fully enjoyed.  I love all my classes - and it feels REALLY good to say that.  It feels good to say that I want to go to class everyday.  

• My two ASL Teachers, Nancy and Cindy.  I'm thankful to have the chance to get to know Cindy this semester.  It is my first semester in Cindy's class, but I am already looking forward to next semester with her as well!  I've had Nancy for three semesters now, next semester totaling in four semesters.  Both teachers have a fantastic sense of humor, are passionate about what they teach, and they geniunely care about their students.  Really, I can go on and on as to why I am thankful for both of my teachers as they have both had a huge impact in my life!!…But one of the biggest reasons I find myself to be thankful for them?  I am thankful to have two teachers who not only care about how their students are doing on their school work, but how they/we are doing in life overall.  I am thankful to have teachers who not only invest into my life inside the classroom, but also outside the classroom on a personal level.  It's such a rarity to have teachers like that at the college where I attend, and I am thankful to know them and have the ability to learn from them.

• Rayna, my 3-year-old cousin.  Really, I can't imagine my life without her.  I love her personality, her funny jokes or made up words, and I love the contagious sound of her laughter.  It has been a joy to watch her grow into such an intelligent and entertaining child.

• The ability to learn.  I'm glad I can continue learning - whether I am learning textbook information, learning about other people, or about myself.  I'm thankful that learning doesn't stop after high school or college.  I'm thankful that learning is a lifelong journey.

• My Nashville mom, Lynette.  She is a blessing.  Words can't even begin to describe how thankful I am to know her and to have her in my life.  We've had so many conversations filled with laughter, prayer, and encouragement.  It is hard to believe we've only known each other for about four years.

• Humor and laughter.

• Having friends around the world.  Sometimes having friends who live around the world can be a little hard as there are friends I often miss - a lot!  But, I am thankful to have such a diverse friend list and the ability to know each friend.  Even when I miss a friend who lives in Japan, London, or somewhere across America...when their name comes to my mind, a smile always spreads across my face.

• Encouragement.  I'm thankful for the encouragement that friends and family have brought to my life, and I'm thankful for oppuritinity to encourage others.  Whether it be in person, through a phone conversation, a letter, Skype, or even through Facebook…Whether it be through a compliment, prayer, through a joke, a smile, or just saying "hello"…I am thankful for encouragement.

• The ability to travel.  The world is a big place, and I'm so glad that I've gotten to experience and see places and things outside of my California "normal" and comfort zone!

• Books.  When I can't physically travel to another place, I know I can always open a book.

• Photography.  You never know when a moment will become a cherished memory.

• Skype and FaceTime.  They make the miles between my friend and I seem a lot shorter, and sometimes nonexistent. 

• My friend Katrina.  I've known her since I was either 13 or 14 years old, and she is easily one of my all-time favorite people!  She's always honest with me, telling me what she actually thinks verses what she thinks I want to hear.  (Basically, she'll flat out tell me I'm crazy or irrational when I think I'm being perfectly sane.)  Whether I run into a problem or I'm working on a creative project, her perspective is always helpful and refreshing.  Her sarcasm is hilarious and she has a sweet, welcoming family.  Whenever I'm Tennessee, I always look forward to visiting with her as she and her husband often invite me to stay at their house.  She is one of my greatest friends!

• My birthmark.  While I am not thankful for awkward moments and annoying stares, I am thankful for the things I have learned through having it.  I am thankful for the awkward moments that turn into humorous moments and annoying stares that turn into educational moments for the one staring.   I'm thankful to have the ability to go to different classrooms where I work to teach the children about it and to let them ask any questions they may have.

• My job.  I work as a noontime assistant at the school I attended as a child.  I LOVE my job.  Although I've had jobs in the past, I've never enjoyed them like I enjoy this one. The people I work with are fantastic, the kids are hilarious, and I never get tired of clocking in everyday.  (And let me just add…This is the first time where I have loved my job, and have loved going to school at the same time.  It's a great feeling!)

• My parent's new home.  We've been in it a little over a year, and it has been a HUGE blessing.  We've been able to have a lot of visitors, dessert and game nights.  These are things we couldn't do in our old home…I absolutely love being able to bake something sweet and having friends over for a visit!

• Hugs from BreAnna and DJ whenever I see them.

• Trying new things.  You never know what you might miss out on if you aren't willing to try something new.  In the end, it may be the best thing you've tried - or it may be the worst…But at least you've tried, and aren't left wondering what could of happened had you not tried that something new.

• The ability to grow and change.  I'm glad that I can grow and change as a person.  My personality, ways of thinking, and flaws are not set in stone…Thank goodness!  I'm also glad that I can grow from the best of experiences, and even from the most unpleasant ones. 

• Board Games.  I LOVE LOVE LOVE board games - and card games too!!  I've had some of my best memories circled around a good game with family and/or friends throughout the years of growing up, and throughout the recent years as well.  Anytime you want to play a game, I'm in!

• Flexibility.  I'm thankful to be flexible - at least, mentally.  Being mentally flexible makes life so much easier when plans change and things don't go 100% according to plan.

• Creativity.  Life would be boring without it.  

• Pinterest.  When my own creativity fails, Pinterest is available 24/7.

• The chance I had to visit Nashville this summer.  The trip was something I really needed.  I was able to reconnect with old friends and had the chance to deepen friendships.

• Chocolate.  Need I say more?

• Music.  Although I can't keep beat to save my life, I'm so happy I can enjoy the creations of those who can! 

• My time at Free Will Baptist Bible College (FWBBC), now known as Welch College.  Sure…I attended the college back in 2009-2010…But my one year there has had a great impact in my life and was full of memories that I still love to reflect on.

• My time in London.  I learned so much while I was in London in 2012, and made friends that I know will last a life time.  

My list could go on and on about people and things I am thankful for…But this is the shortened edition.  What are you thankful for this year??

The Travelin' Chick,

Crystal

PS: After I wrote this, I remembered I wrote an entry similar in 2011.  It was fun to compare the entries to see similarities or differences.  (Thankful in 2011)

Life Outside the Church Walls

Spiritually I'm struggling.

Growing up I've been the granddaughter and a niece of two great pastors.  I'm even a deacon's kid.  I've helped run the powerpoint at church since I was about 7-years-old (or, back then, I helped run the overhead projector with transparencies).  When I was 12-years-old, I became interested and involved in missions - going on my first mission trip when I was 15...going on one almost every year since.  In 2012, I even spent 6 months overseas helping a mission organization.  In between all these activities, I have done other things, such as write articles for Christian magazines, been involved in different leadership activities, and I like hanging out with the youth group when I have the free time.  I've even attended the same church since all my life, minus my time at Bible College and my time overseas...and that's only a portion of my church resume.  (Please note - I am not saying all of this to brag in any way at all.  I'm just wanting to give you a history and background of my life so you have a better understanding, and so you can see that even those who grew up in church and those who have done many church activities can still struggle spiritually.)

In the midst of all of that "churchy" type of stuff, life outside of the church walls has taken place.  If you've been following my blog or my Facebook page, you know my story, at least, the part of my story that has taken place in the last 3 years.  Between the death of my baby niece, the near-death of my father (3 times in one year) and his poor health, and many other family emergencies, life has not been easy...Not to mention the things I haven't, and can't, Facebook or blog about.

Being a "church girl", I know my hope shouldn't be based on my circumstances.  But, when circumstance after circumstance is one bad thing after another - it's becomes harder and harder not to lose hope.  Mentally I know my hope ought to be in God alone.  Emotionally and human wise, sometimes my hope becomes divided.

I think my spiritual struggle first started a little bit when I was 15, when my dad became really sick for the first time.  Then, I think I was okay for a while, until 2011 --- when everywhere I would look my life seemed to be turning upside down.  I went to London in 2012, even after a rather traumatic year, and was incredibly blessed.  There is no doubt in my mind that I was suppose to be in London when I was - and I thank God for my time there, the spiritual growth I experienced, and for the amazing team I was blessed to work with.

Then I came home from Germany after this most recent summer.  Coming home from Deutschland, I was not in a good place.  At all.  (I even posted a blog about struggling after my return.)  I wasn't, and am still not, the same girl I was when I left.   I figured after a month or so of being home, I'd snap out of the funk I was in and would get back to "normal".  But I haven't.   I've dealt with anxiety, depression, the desire to isolate myself, and self conflict...and my relationship with God hasn't gone unaffected.

I've been home for a little over two months now...Yet, I know I'm still not myself.  I am still struggling spiritually and emotionally.  I came home totally and completely broken.  And although I've been home for 2 1/2 months, it wasn't until about two weeks ago when for the first time, I verbally admitted to someone that I was, and am not, okay spiritually.

I feel extremely tired, worn down, weary, and spiritually dry.

Many Sundays I haven't even wanted to go to church.  I've gone for the service, but I've just about completely stopped going to Sunday School...and that's not a normalcy for me.  The thing is, it's not that I don't believe in God - because I definitely believe in Him still.  I've just been struggling.

The other week I told someone that I would pray for them.  Then it hit me, "When was the last time I even prayed?"  Then I wondered, "Have I stopped praying because I've lost hope through the last few years of hardships?"  Sometimes it seems as though all that comes my way, and my family's way, are hardships...and that's a tiring process to go through time and time again.

But why did it take me so long to admit to someone that I was struggling spiritually?  I've told people with ease that emotionally I've struggled in the last few years.  That, for me, is an easy thing to admit to.  But when it comes to telling people that spiritually something just isn't right in my life?  That's hard to share.  Oddly enough, I find it easier to tell people that I've been in and out of counseling and therapy than it is for me to tell them that my relationship with God isn't where it should be.  When I opened up to someone for the first time about my deep and personal struggle, it wasn't even to anyone I am close to.  It was to a retreat speaker that  spoke at a retreat in September during a drive to take her to the airport...I talked to someone who barely knows me, my story, and someone I barely know myself.

Maybe it was easier to talk to someone I hardly knew because she was someone who doesn't know my history, who looks at me as just me and not as the girl in leadership, or as the "girl who goes on mission trips".  I felt less pressure to hold up to a standard that I feel I sometimes have to reach - whether that's just a standard I've given myself, or a standard other people expect me to meet.

Overall, I think I've kept quiet for so long because because I have felt incredibly embarrassed about the issue.  Here I am, the granddaughter and niece of pastors...A girl who has attended church all her life, has always been involved in multiple church activities, has been a short-term missionary, and leadership positions...You get the idea.

I should have it all together, even through the hardships...Right??  Well, I haven't...and I don't....and I've put a lot of pressure on myself to be "that Christian girl" who continues to play all the same parts, not wanting to clue anyone in on my ongoing battle.  And truth be told - pretending I have it all together when I don't...Well, it's exhausting...and sometimes I feel as though I'm just going through the motions with a weary and frustrated spirit.

It's not that I enjoy struggling with my relationship with God.  In fact, I hate that this has been a big struggle of mine for the last several months.  More specifically, I hate that it has gotten worse in the last couple of months.  But more importantly, I really dislike that I've let it gotten to this point, not knowing what to do, and not telling others sooner.

I really miss feeling refreshed, and my passion and zeal for God.  Even more so, I miss having the relationship with God that I use to have.

If anyone has noticed my struggle - I'm unaware.  No one has said a thing to me about it, although I wish someone would have if they took notice to my internal battle.  It's a hard thing to go through alone, not knowing what to do.  I've noticed red flags and changes in my own behavior (such as not attending Sunday School), and I can't imagine no one else noticing.  Then again, maybe I'm a better actress than I thought when it comes to hiding what I've been ashamed about.

Do I feel ashamed to admit to a spiritual battle because of pressure I put on myself, or because it comes across as a taboo subject??  Why, as Christians, do we have a hard time admitting to one another that we don't always have it together spiritually?  That our relationship with God isn't always at it best?   Why do we find the need to hide this part of our life, when what we need is to be open about it so that others know how to better pray for and help us?  To keep us accountable?  After all, our church family and Christian friends have all probably been here/there themselves, and (hopefully) want what is best for us - physically, emotionally, and spiritually.

So, here I am being honest, once again.

In the last few months especially, and even throughout the last few years (on and off), I have struggled.  I've been in and out of depression after many hard life circumstances...And I've never really healed from anything that has happened in the last few years.

Although I firmly believe that recent events have a lot to do with my current struggles, I know they aren't the only cause.  In my heart, I know that the struggle is the result of an accumulation from the last few years and recent life experiences.  The most recent issues just seem to be the cherry on top of it all, and I'm just tired.

If you're struggling emotionally and/or spiritually - I encourage you to tell someone you trust.  (Although, I've noticed if you struggle with one, more than likely you also struggle with the other.)  Once you open up to one person, and once you say it aloud for the first time, it is easier to be honest about it and face it.  By opening up with just one person, it instantly took a lot of pressure off of myself - and now I've even found myself opening up to you here in my blog - even though I'm not sure how any of this will be taken by those who read this.

Once you open up with someone - make a plan.  I'm still working on a plan to get myself in a better place with my relationship with God.  I'm working on healing, and not running and ignoring things that I know I need to deal with.  I'm trying to be proactive by talking to a couple of mentors I know on the phone (as sadly, they live out of the state of California), and I'm seeing a local counselor for a few issues - my spiritual battle being one of them.

I've also been learning to tell others that for now, I can't take on any jobs at the church because I know I need to focus on me and God before I can take on any responsibilities.  If I were to take on any jobs right now, I would be cheating God and the church because I'm not where I need to be to take anything on.

Ironically, I'm 22 and have grown up in church, and yet, I still am lost as to the best way to get to where I need to be...But I know that admitting to where I am currently at and knowing where I want to be is definitely a good start.

Sure, I have two pastors in my family, have been a leader, been involved in many church things, and have gone on many mission trips. But I am human.  I have emotions and I experience life.  I'm not immune to possible struggles, physical, emotional, or spiritual...and I shouldn't feel ashamed, embarrassed, or even guilty about these struggles - as I've allowed myself to feel.

When I get responses from people about my blog, I always like hearing that people love how I am open and honest through my writing.  I figure, the more open and honest I am, the more I can truly connect with you, my readers.  Maybe through my writing, you'll know you're not alone in an experience, or maybe you leave my blog feeling encouraged or hopeful.  Sometimes the opposite happens as well.  Sometimes, when I hear from you (which I LOVE comments left, or emails I receive), and I hear your stories, I sometimes realize and learn that I'm not alone, and I often am encouraged by your responses.

By hiding this from you all, I have felt like a lying impostor posing as "that chick", seeming to come across as having it all together - even when I don't.  But here I am...Telling you, being honest with myself, and owning up to the fact that I don't always have it together - and right now I definitely don't.  Right now, I'm just trying process and attempting to figure some things out.

I've spent the last few weeks debating on posting a blog entry like this one...Not knowing how it will be received by others.  As I have gone back and forth on the idea of posting this entry, I've wondered, "Will people judge me for my struggle?  Will they think my struggle is stupid?  Will people see me in a different and negative light?  Will anyone even understand??"

Truth is, it doesn't really matter what others think about where I'm at in life - and I shouldn't worry about it.  It's a real battle and it's my life story.  Why should I hide where I am at?  I'm now less concerned about what others think about my struggle, and more concerned about getting back to where I know I should me…Where I know I want to be with God.

No matter how it's received by strangers, family, or friends, I can't hide the truth any longer.  I have to be honest...and really I feel like it needs to be posted.  I want to continue to stay open and honest through my entries - because odds are, realistically...I'm probably not alone.

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal

A Home to Return to

Recently I met at Starbucks with a couple of friends of mine.  One friend in particular was asking me how many more laser treatments I would need for my birthmark.  Responding, I told her something like, "I don't know.  I can stop when I want to stop or I can keep going.  I had them as a child but decided to stop when I was about 11-years-old, and my mom said, 'okay', and let me stop.  When I was about 18-years-old, I told my mom I wanted to continue - and she told me 'okay' again, and I continued."  She said something to the effect of, "You have a good mom who supports you and your decisions."

And that's the thing.  I do have a good mom.  In fact, I have a great mom who supports me and my decisions...and recently, I've realized how I sometimes take her - and my dad - for granted.

Lately I've been reminded more and more about how blessed I am to have my parents in my life.  During the last few weeks, I keep hearing stories of people who don't have such a great support system in their lives.

I have friends who don't want to go home, because if they do, they have to "deal with their family".  I have friends who's parents aren't kind to them with their words, who put their child (my friend) down.  My friends have parents who tell their children that they aren't pretty enough, thin enough, or that they deserve to become sick, they deserve to go through an emotional hard time, etc, etc.

In my ASL (American Sign Language) classes I learn of stories of children who are Deaf who have gone through horrendous medical experiments, therapies, and treatments - even when they requested that they stop.  (This happened/happens when parents are new to having a Deaf child and rely on doctors for advice.  The parents want what is best for their child, but what they are told to do by their doctors doesn't always end up being the best option.)  My teachers, friends, and classmates who are Deaf share what it is like to grow up Deaf in a hearing family...Being left out of conversations, social activities, and being left completely alone.  One friend even shared that his mother left the family when they found out he was deaf.

The other week, I was with a group that included 6 of my friends (two friends are Deaf, the other four are hearing).  We were trying to figure out who all wanted to go to Wal-Mart, so we asked both the hearing and Deaf friends in the group if they wanted to to to the store.  If we all went, we would take two cars, as we all wouldn't fit into one.  If some wanted to stay at the apartment until we got back, we only need to take one vehicle.  One of my Deaf friends responded, "I don't need to go.  I'm use to being alone.  I'm use to my family leaving me out."  Needless to say - we took two cars and made sure that all 6 of us went to the store together that night.

Two weekends ago I also went to see The Deafhood Monologues.  The monologues included many true stories based on experiences and the history of Deaf culture and people, but one story particular stood out to me...and has come to my mind everyday since the performance.

During the monologues, actress Shira Gravelsky presented a (true) story of a woman who went to an adoption agency.  The woman that Shira played met a young girl who loved to draw - regardless of the fact that she was missing fingers.  Shira's character spoke to someone in charge, asking if the little girl was born without her fingers.  To her character's surprise, the little girl's current condition was not to be faulted due to her development in the womb or due to a birth problem.  It was faulted by a recent, tragic, life event.

The little girl was born deaf.  She learned to do some sign language, but then her parents took her to a doctor who dubbed signing and ASL as bad.  The doctor insisted that the parents push oralism and speech therapy on the child - and told them not to let their daughter sign or use ASL.

Her parents tried to get her to go oral, but she continued to sign.  Her dad became infuriated and one day yelled, "Is she signing again??  Is she?  Make her stop!  Make her speak!...Is she signing??  Make her put her hands out!"  So, the child was forced to lay out her hands - and bam!  Her father took a knife and cut off all his child's fingers.  (The child's parents went to jail.)

I listen to stories like this and my heart breaks.  I listen to my friends talk about their strained relationships with their parents who aren't very kind, and I become extremely saddened.  My heart has broken so many times during the last two months as I hear stories in class or through new friends.  All the people I've heard share about their poor home life are such beautiful people, and I can't imagine how their parents don't see the beauty in their own children, or how they don't accept their child as they are.  Hearing about all of these stories and experiences...I am reminded of how lucky and blessed I am to have the parents that I have.

When it comes to my health and to my body, my parents have never forced me to do anything I haven't wanted to do.  Like with my laser treatments.  If I want to have them, they're okay with it.  My mom even drives me to and from - 3 hours each direction.  If I want to stop the treatments, they are okay with that too.  And when I was diagnosed with chronic pain at the age of 12?  My parents made sure that I got the best treatment possible to help relieve as much of the pain as possible.

If I need help with friend situations or need advice of any kind, I know I can trust my parents.  I know they'll think rationally and not attempt to feel bad about any of the situations.  They try to encourage me through their advice.  They're not afraid to be honest with me if I'm in the wrong or need correcting, but they correct me in love and in a tender way in hopes of helping me grow as a person through the situation.

My parents have let me travel the world without them since I was 15-years-old.  They want me to travel, understanding that the world is a big and unique place.  They've encouraged me to spend 6 months in London, and supported me when I wanted to go to Japan to help with the disaster relief efforts after the tsunami hit.  Even though the tsunami and issues Japan was having with the nuclear plants and radiation made my parents a little nervous, they knew I felt like I need to go and they trusted in God to keep me safe.

When I decided to move to Germany for 6 months, my parents let me make my own decision and told me it was a good, once in a life time oppurtunity.  When I decided it was best for me to come home from Germany 4 months early, my parents were once again in full support.  They welcomed me home with wide-open arms and picked me up from the airport.

Whenever my parents see an area I become interested in, they encourage me to persue my new interest.  If I enjoy a new hobby, they support me.  My dad, after all, is the one who surprised me when I was 13-years-old as he bought me my first SLR camera - seeming completely at random at the time.  I remember coming home from school, seeing a Nikon D50 on the table, and asking my dad, "Who's is that??"  He told me, "It's yours."  I don't even remember asking for a camera.  Asking him tonight why he bought the camera for me, he recalled realizing my growing interest in creating videos and thought I needed a better camera to help me out in the new hobby.  Little did he know how much photography would become part of my life!

And in college...Even when I change my major for the 3rd or 4th time, my parents always insist that they want me to major in what I love, what I'm passionate about, and what makes me happy.

My parents have accepted that I am living my life and am trying to live it to the fullest.  They've stuck with me through the good times, and the most trying times.  They even try to give me experiences that they possibly didn't have themselves as a child or young adult.

I just can't imagine having parents who don't accept me for who I am.  I can't imagine having parents who ignore me, or force me to do things I don't want to do, or who make me feel ugly and awful about myself.  I've been blessed with parents who are patient, kind, encouraging, accepting, and who have instilled that beauty runs much deeper than skin deep.  They've taught me to be proud of who I am, even through my differences.

My life could have been extremely different had I been born into a different, less supportive family...And I just want to thank my parents.

Thanks, mom and dad.  Thank you for being great, supportive, encouraging, and loving parents.  Thank you for being parents that I enjoy spending time with.  I hope that if I ever become married, and have children, that I am half as great as you two.

Thank you for giving me a home that I want to return home to at night.

The Travelin' Chick,
Crystal