5-Steps to Coping with ADHD

Step 1: Receive a diagnosis and accept it
Step 2: Educate yourself about ADHD as best as possible
Step 3: Make changes in your life to help cope with the disorder
Step 4: Apologize to people in your life who have been negatively affected by your disorder & work                    to educate them on ADHD and it’s symptoms the affect you
Step 5: Accept who you are and strive to be the best possible version of you

     STEP 1: A little over a year ago I received a diagnosis of a neurological disorder known as ADHD.  Once I began to educate myself on how it manifests itself in children and adults, my whole life and its struggles began to make sense.  For the last year I’ve vacillated back and forth between anger and comfort due to feeling understood by books and medical professionals. STEP 3:  I have gone through 8 different kinds of medication attempting to treat my ADHD symptoms and have had some counseling.  I’ve dealt with crazy amounts of negative side effects to the medications all while attempting to obtain my Masters of Divinity.  To say it’s been a trying time is an understatement.
     STEP 2: During the last year I have learned a lot about myself and about ADHD.  All my life I have had to work three times as hard as a regular person to obtain my educational and professional goals.  I have had a lot of failures amidst few successes.  All my life I have seemed less than my peers.  Social comparison is a bitch - in school, my relationships, and in my jobs I have constantly compared my abilities to theirs and seemingly come up short.  Despite all this, I have always worked hard.  However, my inabilities, difficulties, and short-comings led me to depression and anxiety once I was in college.
    STEP 4-mostly:  For years my “situational” depression and anxiety were treated as such.  The first psychiatrist I had was in college.  He thought that my anxiety and depression were siloed and only induced by different stressors.  My ADHD went undiagnosed.  I then began a long history of relationships that were reckless, destructive, and ultimately damaging to my self-esteem. Those ugly relationships affected my friendships negatively, which further pressed me into those damaging relationships.  It was as if I was drowning, gasping for air, and reaching for anything that might hold me up for just a little bit.
     Often times I get overwhelmed easily.  I feel deeper than most and can’t shake emotion as easily as most.  I become hyper-focused on the source of my stress to the detriment of my jobs and social obligations.  It was and sometimes is (much less than before) a vicious cycle.  The older I get the more it seems that large social obligations cause anxiety in me.  Lots of people equals lots of stimulus.  For me its not only exhausting but mentally rigorous to keep up with it all.  This anxiety causes me to cancel on events and people much more often than I would like to.  I loathe being inconsistent.  Insert more depression and self-loathing.  I truly SUCK at communication in these times of texting, emailing, and social media.  If some line of communication comes across my path while I am busy, it goes in one ear and out the other.  This often times leads people to become frustrated with me.  This letting down of people deeply troubles me and sends me further down in my self-depreciating ways.
     I am an intelligent, relational, deeply caring person and because of that, the symptoms of ADHD which I carry are intensely maddening to me.  For as much as I’ve let people down and baffled them with my ways, somehow I am still vigorously loved by a couple handfuls of people.  I have to work 3 times as hard to be “normal” - meet the status quo.  The more I come to understand and educate people in my life about my neurological disorder the more forgiveness and acceptance I hope to find; not just in others but myself.  I am deeply critical of myself and my short-comings. It’s maddening setting your heart and soul to something and having your mind override it. I’m in constant battle with myself.
    Step 5: It’s a learning curve. Truth be told, though I am a year and some change into this, I’ve only just begun my journey into accepting my brain and self for what it is. Heck, I’m even angered that medication works for most but for some reason, not for me. However, I’ve only got one mind and therefore I need to love it and put who I am and what I am to good use.  I have some agonizing limitations but I also possess some wonderful, intrinsic gifts as well.  The trick is to learn to accept yourself, your limitations, and your gifts for what they are.  I, admittedly, am still learning.  The more I lean into STEP 4, the more I believe I will be able to embrace STEP 5.

Poem: Unconformed

I wrote this about 6 months after I came out to my parents.  They went from always being my number one supporters and cheerleaders to being my biggest opposition.  We went through 2 1/2 years of disagreement hell together.  However, once they realized that it wasn’t an experiment and that it was truly a deep part of who I am, my parents have loving embraced me and supported me since.  

UNCONFORMED

By: Jessica Cole Robinson

3-3-05

You think you can stop me

With your doubt

Change my world

With a cry and a shout

Pull the carpet out from underneath me

To make me beg

But I’m stronger than that

To fall victim 

To the system

That made me this way

Better than a sellout

Tougher than you believer

Cut me down a few more times

Whatcha wanna do, see me bleed?!

You slander my intentions

Diminish my beliefs

Hate our differences

See scum -- that is all -- underneath

You built me up from infancy

A strong individual with pride

Now that I’m my own woman

You want me to conform

You want me to hide

Comforting hand that loved 

Has been pulled back from my soul

Left to fend for myself

I’d rather not know

Know that my conceivers love

Changes with disagreements tide

Know that the desire is for me

Not to be my own 

To flow in wake of parents pride

Illusions have become us

Soon I’ll flip further into your unknown

Refusing soul prostitution

In only God I find home

Two wrongs won’t make this right

For your love -- not going to back down

I’m gunna fight

Hold closely my accusers 

With the love I do not get

In the end I’ll prosper

I do not fret

So you may hate me 

The very being your love and blood formed

But when you go to hit my cheek

I’ll turn the other one

STANDING STRONG -- ME -- UNCONFORMED

Love.

          A little over 8 months ago I wrote a post about missing the girl that I used to be.  I reflected on my days in college where my faith was the strongest.  I had my old journals to remind of that faithfulness.  I've been done with college for 10 years now.  Without a doubt I've grown, changed, evolved, at times regressed, and then grew again.  I've been twisted, broken, rebuilt, and sharpened by others, my faith, and my desires for evolving.
          The missing key all these years was submersing myself into my faith.  For the last 10 years I have held it loosely in my hand; always there, always close to me, but never held tight like it should be; like I need it to be.  Following reading my old journal entries from college and realizing this intense longing to feel close to the faithfulness I had in college, I made some changes.  I jumped back into my faith with all of my being.  It was here that I rediscovered my foundation, my core.
          Several weeks ago I found myself in complete silence and solitude at an Episcopal monastery.  I had no access to my phone, internet, or tv.  In the silence and solitude I surprisingly became aware of something beautiful and slightly unexpected; with everything stripped away, I am completely at peace with myself.  It took 32 years to get there.  I have to think that the strength of my faith has everything to do with it.  Over time what I have learned as a result of this peace follows. I believe this peace can be achieved by all.

• Relationships do not define my importance.
• Purpose can be found and achieved apart from having children and a spouse.
• God can truly fulfill your needs and desires. 
• Wholeness and happiness exists for all. 
• Separation from wants and desires helps eliminate personal suffering. (Buddhist belief)
• Surrendering your will to God's allows for joy and peace to fill in the cracks.

         I've discovered this and so much more.  What it has done for me is open more up to a much greater capacity to love, not force things, be accepting of circumstances, and just roll with it.  I no longer worry how things will work out, stress about how ends will be met, who my spouse will be, if I will have children, etc.  I have faith that God will take me where I need to be.  My job is to listen and then jump in with both feet.

I Am White and I Am Not Privileged!!!

     


          I grew up in a smaller town along the beach; by no means a backwoods village.  The folks that inhabit this town have been and have always been 99% white as white comes.  90% inhabitants of this town are rather affluent; bigger homes, boats, cottages up north, no worries of where food comes from, what name brand clothes they will buy, travel frequently, afford top notch college educations for their kids, etc. We live in a white, affluent, bubble. And you betcha! crime is low if almost unheard of!
         From what I've heard from several colleagues in this beautiful beach town, the reason why crime is almost unheard of and that we are a peaceful community is because we don't have the problem of having minorities in our community.  We work to not be very inclusive or welcoming of outsiders.   After all, who wouldn't want to maintain our quaint, cozy, safe, beach town?!  This also includes making sure we aren't very welcoming of those who practice religions outside of Christianity. We are pretty tolerable of non-believers because they don't pose a threat to the Christian principals that our city has been founded on.
       An interesting thing happened yesterday.  A friend of mine from high school posted something on Facebook in where he gave an honest attempt to apologize for posting something potentially offensive to homosexuals.  This friend is someone who I've been fond of since high school, although distant now.  I attempted to give light that using the terminology "homosexual" was derogatory and oppressive to the GLBT community.  A gentleman responded with sarcasm.  I responded with, "...said the privileged, white, straight, man".  Six WHITE men and one WHITE woman weighed in on that comment repeatedly.  All stating that being white doesn't carry any privilege.  This sadly escalated to tearing apart gay esteem and everyone stating that white and gender privilege does not exist.  All involved in this conversation are from my beloved home town.
        It wasn't until my senior year of college, (a primarily white, extremely affluent college), that I was FORCED to acknowledge my white privilege through FORCED education in a psychology class.  It was a painful process.  I grew up being open to people of different colors, so that meant I wasn't a racist (ha).  My skin color, in my head, did not give me some gold path to walk down.  Turns out, I can have no money and no education and yet still have so many privileges that non-whites do not have.  I implored those that responded with sarcasm and disdain yesterday to simply greet people with respect, speak to build others up (this is Biblical for those red, white, and blue bleeding Christians I dialogued with yesterday), act with compassion, and exude love before anything else.  I was then blasted with all sorts of awful things about me being an ignorant, hippie loving, liberal.
        So be it.  I'm very much so a moderate but if acting in the above gets me called a liberal...then I fully embrace it.  "The first shall be last and the last shall be first." - Matthew 20:16  The main article that changed my mind in college on white privilege is below.  I strongly urge ANYONE who is white to read it.

Unpacking the Knapsack of White Privilege 
By: Peggy McIntosh

http://static1.1.sqspcdn.com/static/f/636447/10105735/1294338496063/Microsoft+Word+-+Unpacking+the+Knapsack+of+White+Privilege.pdf?token=CGJMykMl4i6GI1BIshRmHnXOIZ0%3D

Today No Longer Will I!

            Today is a historic day in our country.  Today is the day that the Supreme Court ruled in favor of same-sex marriage NATIONWIDE.  Tears welled up in my eyes as I received a text from my girlfriend informing me of the ruling.  First feelings of absolute joy surged through my body and then tinges of fear; the first time I cried for marriage equality for myself was the day that Michigan voted to recognize same-sex marriages.  The next day it was repealed.  As tears welled up, I prayed that this wasn't a false promise of my country to me.
             Fears aside, my heart is beaming with joy! This is a huge victory for myself and personal rights but it is also a huge victory for my friends, peers, colleagues, family members, and all of the country.  Whether you benefit directly from this ruling or not, it is my belief that this country benefits as a whole.  Two hours into this ruling and my Facebook wall is drenched in updates celebrating.  My straight friends and family are celebrating as equally as my gay and lesbian friends.  I read one post that announced that after 15 years of being together, my friend and her partner are engaged! So many others that I know that have put in the hard time and effort that marriage requires, are now rejoicing in having their marriage certificates from other states be recognized in their state! We are not just celebrating a right! We are celebrating LOVE! Love in it's purest form.  It comes with dedication, hard work, perseverance, and a deep LOVE.
             Today I celebrate the institution of marriage! I celebrate the fact that no longer will my friends and I be treated as second class citizens! No longer will I have to worry about the day that I am married and can't share health benefits with my beloved or worry about retirement, lawful protection of my rights as a mother of my future children, or be concerned that my beloved or I could be hospitalized and not be able to see each other or make pivotal decisions in our care! No longer will I have to plan a trip to go marry my beloved in another state and return to ours where we are not recognized! No longer will I have to fear discrimination with work place rights! No longer will I have to be pained at the thought of my children growing up with their mothers not legally being recognized! NO LONGER WILL I BE FORCED TO BE IN PART BUT RATHER EXIST WHOLE.
            Today I celebrate the victory that I believe GOD has placed before us.  As a future Pastor, it is my desire to see the church function as Christ desires.  It is my hope to foster an environment where people can come to exist, grow, and evolve in an authentic relationship with Christ.  Though we have separation between Church and State, the two consistently intersect in our country.  No longer will the church be able to keep a comfortable quiet in this conversation.  No longer will people be able to ignore the inclusion of the GLBT community.  This is God's charge to God's people! How do we love the way that you love, God?! This will without a doubt call the church community out of its comfort zone with this conversation and force people to really reflect on this question.  This will not be an overnight fix but it is a conversation starter; and that is the best thing; to begin talking about it.
             This is an extremely pivotal time in our country.  In the wake of the Black Lives Matter movement and the racially motivated atrocity in Charleston, South Carolina, our country is being ushered into a time where we are really having to look at what EQUALITY and JUSTICE mean.  This is a huge step for human rights.  May we become a country of compassion that upholds love, respect, hard work, determination, commitment, and human dignity higher than anything else.  And in this, I believe we will, whether intentional or unintentional,  exemplify characteristics of God and be well pleasing to our Creator.
            Today, no longer will we be as divided and no longer will hate triumph over love.  Dylann Roof shot 9 people in a church in attempts at starting a race war.  Instead, what he started was an extreme awareness of the misguidance that our country can still breed and bring blacks and whites together to console each other, to live together, to journey together, and to praise God together.  The state of Indiana tried to take a stand against gay rights.  What they in turn did was highlight and ignite a country against that discrimination.  Today, our country chose basic human rights instead of fear and wrongful judgement.  Today, our country chose you and our country chose me.  I celebrate with my brothers and sisters of every kind of background today as this is not just a victory for the GLBT community, but for us all.  The institution can only be strengthen by this movement.  Thanks be to God for the direction we are heading.  I can't wait to be a part of the conversation!

A Concept of Strength

         Recently I have been reminded of the various ways individuals define strength.  Perhaps the most pointed reminder was being told that I was weak.  The reasons that I was told I was weak caused me to pause for a moment, digest, and feel grateful.  The person that said it meant it as a slam but I took it as a compliment.
         Often times life calls us to live counter intuitively.  The philosophy that "only when I am weak, then I am strong" seems backwards.  What does that even mean anyway?! If you're weak, then how can you possibly be strong?! I wrestled with this question for several years when I was first introduced to this philosophy.  In a society of go-getters, competition, hurt, abuse, and sin, the natural response is to build walls.  Strength is often times exercised in our ability to mask our hurt, our vulnerabilities, and portray ourselves as oh, so well put together.  Strength is not allowing our weaknesses to show.
          Real strength is the opposite.  Real strength is being able to live in our truth which exposes us and makes us vulnerable.  Real strength comes in turning the other cheek.  Real strength is admitting we did this wrong. Real strength is loving with God's grace when every thread in our natural being wants to fight back.

I AM WEAK

I am weak for social justice

I bend at the knees

I am weak for love

An outstretched pouring

I am weak for forgiveness

A calling too deep

I am weak for restoration

We will be restored

I am weak for what I believe in

Running through me it flows

I am weak for character and integrity

As it carries us into righteousness

I am weak for humility

Water to dry lips

Community

I am weak

Own your weaknesses and in that you will find strength. 

Reap What You Sow

      I just recently had a family member very bitterly respond to my lamenting of a strained relationship with another beloved family member with, "Ya reap what you sow", and then walk away from me.   It took every ounce of control not to yell at this person, "If that's the case get in fights, people would have cheated on you multiple times as you were growing into a real adult, and used your body repeatedly for self-gratification over and over.  You would have people be demeaning to you at times and be utterly disrespectful just because anger seethes".  Praise God, I held my tongue.
       I should state that the family member who "so kindly" told me I reap what I sow, is actually a rather outstanding person with a lot of character and integrity.  We all have our bad moments.  All this arose out of me cutting ties with a close blood relative.  I cut these ties out of serious ethical disagreements.  At the time I allowed my anger and hurt to dictate my tongue and instead of cutting ties in a "classy" way, I went out in a blaze of bitchiness, poured salt into the disconnect wound, and then basically set it all on fire.
        Sometimes in life we don't get re-do's.  I tend to always leave the door open to everyone for a re-do chance; not everyone functions that way.  I can't say I blame them.  Hell, I wish I could shut the door to some for eternity but despite some solid efforts, I'm just not hot-wired that way.  For some, the hurt is so much that try as we may, we cannot physically get their door to open back up.  I attempted a re-do with this relative that I figuratively set ablaze with my bitchiness; the door is closed.
        As I was left to my thoughts after the "ya reap what you sow" statement, I was left to my thoughts and sadness.  I don't think embittered we should carry a philosophy of reaping what we sow.  Imagine how sick and depraved we would all be and the twisted shit we would go through for the entirety of life we all truly reaped what we sowed?! I think we all need to lay in the bed we make at times. It's about taking responsibility; not living in a constant state of punishment for our transgressions. The truth is some things cannot be un-done.  Sometimes we have to wrestle with the moments when we lost control and did or said something regrettable.  The wrestling teaches us how to proceed.  My family member that I set ablaze with hurt was in the state and visited with other family members; my presence wasn't desired by said individual.  Does hurt and anger always deserve hurt and anger in return? Reap what you sow?  Nawe.  We are called to a much higher level of compassion and love with each other than that.  Is it my bed to lay in right now? Yeah.
       My challenge to anyone reading this is to not look at our brothers and sisters with a spirit of reap what you sow but rather one of grace and forgiveness.  This doesn't mean that what has happened is okay, but it does mean we can be bigger and God IS bigger than our hurt and blunders.  Allow God to be bigger than our faults. Choosing compassion and love can sometimes pull us outside of our ourselves.  Accept the bigger.  Live the better.

Matthew 6:9-13

9 “This, then, is how you should pray:

“‘Our Father in heaven,
hallowed be your name,
10 your kingdom come,
your will be done,
    on earth as it is in heaven.
11 Give us today our daily bread.
12 And forgive us our debts,
    as we also have forgiven our debtors.
13 And lead us not into temptation,[a]
    but deliver us from the evil one.

Lesbian Bearing a Cross

         When I was 21 my first girlfriend landed in my lap.  I had dated guys long-term up until that point.  If ever a gay thought had come into my head before then, I would push it out just as quickly as it arrived and in my head, for all purposes, it never existed.  When I was 21 and finding myself expressing deep "friendship" feelings towards my female friend, I was a Religion major at a Reformed Church of America affiliated college; Hope College.  My beloved, adored college was filled with believers that were raised to believe homosexuality was a sin.  Professors wouldn't dare speak anything different unless they were tenured and even then, they did so timidly.  After all, Hope is a private college and a lot of funding comes from Alum who adore Doc Dobson and Focusing on His Family of preservers of the sanctity of marriage and procreation.  If Hope doesn't Focus on THAT Family, funding gets pulled.
          When my first girlfriend Michelle and I started to acknowledge our romantic love and act on it there was a prevailing thought that we were just gay for each other.  After all, she had never thought about being with a woman before me and neither had I...really.  I enjoyed my intimate relationships with guys and therefore had no reason to think that I had some special affinity women.  During our time together as a couple I was a senior in my RELIGION major at Hope.  I had every intention of heading into the ministry prior to this beautiful thing that landed in my lap.  I researched Divinity Schools and even visited one in New Jersey to see if it appealed to me.  I spent my undergrad praying with my friends, having countless late nights of deep, philosophical, theological, conversations with my devout, deeply loved peers.
            Coming out to my "brothers and sisters" in Christ was terrifying.  Rejection was real.  I was a prayerful, charismatic, leader in the church and with my friends.  How could Jess Robinson be gay and be close to God?! It's unthinkable isn't it?! And my beloved friends and sisters and brothers in Christ treated me that way.  I was no longer the believer that had a tuned ear towards God.  I was lost and gay. During this time of thinking I was just Michelle gay, I was unapologetic for who I was.  I wasn't a freedom fighter or someone who shoved my relationship in anyones face.  I did, however, disagree with my peers who "prayed for my soul".  I always had a sense that God loved me and formed me just the way I was.  At this time, in my pain and rejection, I felt no matter what the definition of my sexuality was, that my "deviation" was somehow my cross to bear.
             People have always known me.  I've been transparent and very sociable. I've always been likable. I'm caring and put others first (to my own detriment at times).  But this happened and overnight I was asked to step down from my youth leadership position, my Christian friends pulled back from me, my beloved parents argued with my identity for several years, and with a 50 foot pole, church members and friends prayed for me to see the way.  My cross to bear. 
           I'm almost 11 years into this "deviant" way of being true to myself.  I've been out of the closet since 3 months after my first girlfriend fell in my lap.  I've not hidden nor desire to hide.  If you don't have to live in shame for being straight, why should I? I've met my friends oppositions and fears.  I've lost friends.  I've had friends keep a safe distance.  I've had family members leave me.  I've had churches close the doors to me.   There are so many hardships that come along with what people label a "lifestyle".  It is not chosen.  I am not a champion and do not desire to conquer the ill advised thoughts of those that still want to pray for my sexuality.  I just simply want to exist, as I was up until I was 21; Jess Robinson.  That's all that I am; me.  Other people can fight the legal system.  Other people can champion the fight for such a stupid word as INCLUSION in the church.  (I shouldn't have to find an inclusive church.  Jesus didn't have a checklist...why do we?!)
          I just interviewed at a fine Christian institution that I would I practically give my left arm to work at.  I interviewed for a position in their ministry department.  I've got the passion, the knowledge, the love, the experience, and God but fear I'll be ushered into the closet with a gold carpet (as not to offend me) if I get the job.  I spent only 3 months in the closet;  I can't and won't go back.  Every time I've told God I don't want to do something, He has called me to otherwise.  My cross to bear. 
           Since moving back to Michigan I've only attended my home church 3 times because it's a Reformed Church of America/ Christian Reformed Church split.  AKA leave the gay at the door.  I've attended an Episcopal church once; not my flavor. I fantasized about rolling my eye ball down the isle during the homily and imagining peoples reactions. I've tried being Catholic a handful of times; a fantasized about sword fighting with an umbrella at the last mass I attended.  (Don't judge me for where my mind wandered.)  The point is, my heart is with the RCA/CRC churches.  Sadly, they are not with me.  So, I've been a solo artist.  I spend my spiritual time alone.  I sure do miss the community that comes with church though and the insight that comes from Bible studies and sermons.
            Jesus hung on a cross for you and me.  He carried the cross of which he was to be hanged on through the streets and was accosted by disbelievers.  He was accosted by people like you and me.  I carried my cross through my senior year of college and dropped it afterwards because the weight was too heavy. I just wanted to live as comfortably as possible; just be me. But I am not just me.  I will never be just me.  I am a part of a marginalized, beloved, population that Jesus loves nor calls us out of.   Perhaps we all have our crosses to bear for the good of the Kingdom.  A cross can't be light and the plight of travel is never easy.  God calls us to get out of the boat.  God never listens to my ideas that don't require courage or trust.  I think it's time for me to pick up my cross that I dropped so long ago and bear it.  

To: The Girl I Used To Be

      From time to time I find myself turning the pages of old journals from my senior year of high school and college.   I read bits of wisdom from a girl that it is much younger than I.  She is so full of passion, enthusiasm for the world and God's children, and focused grace.  Her knowledge of scripture is admirable and contagious.  Her thirst for doing God's work would lead anyone to want to do more.  Her honesty about herself and shortcomings is a transparency that most wish they had the courage to behold. I long to be close to that person. She is me, but we are no longer the same. 

     It is not unheard of for a college graduate to enter into the world with such zeal and optimism.  It's also not unheard of for a person like that to lose ample amounts of steam over years.  The disconnect between my former self and present day Jess started to occur subconsciously while I was still in college.  It began with being asked to step down from my youth ministry leadership position within the church for being in a gay relationship.  I was unapologetic for my love and therefore, the church was unapologetic to me.  I was determined not to allow it to get to me.  I ministered to many people about the difference between God's love and the examples led by God's children.  I encouraged my fellow gay brothers and sisters in Christ not to lose heart for God despite deficiencies and hypocrisies  held within the church.  I felt led by the Spirit to do and say such things.  I was in the throws of a gay pain melding pot and kept heart; or so I thought. 

      When you're forced to recognize your marginalized status over and over again, you can't help but absorb some of the messages of the majority.  When one loves God so but is spiritually abused by the church in such ways, one cannot help but grow a thicker skin.  The overarching tunes that many of my peers, church colleagues, and some family played were that of...

• You can't be in ministry and be gay
• You can no longer have a close relationship with God
• We can no longer be "sisters in Christ" because you must not know him anymore
• You are a mistake
• You are wrong
• You are LESS than
• You must change
• You must change
• You must change

      Thick skin or no skin, the messages seep in.  Spirit led and/or Spirit filled, some of the spiritual vigor is lost to closed doors.  I read those journal entry's of that Godly young woman and I miss her.  She had a finely tuned ear to the Divine and a sense of un-tattered innocence in her strength and knowledge of self.  She didn't know that the plight of a people group was about to be her own.  As I look back with my worldly wisdom, slightly jaded, I am reminded that I am not the only one missing something; I know that young woman misses me too. 

Do As I Say, Not As I Do; The Art Of Hypocrisy

      We've all been there.  That spot where we instruct those around us to do or perform in a certain manner that is contrary to what we actually practice.  If we tell people to do the "right" way, why is it so hard for us to follow our own words?
       I've recently come in contact with the most blaring hypocrite I've personally known.  Life has forced me to have my life aligned with this individual.  There appears to be no awareness, or guilt of the continued hypocrisy.  This individuals actions and words continue to never match.  It's rather stunning to witness this disconnect.  The outcome of this continued presence in my life has not just been my own bafflement but the need for me to examine my own hypocrisy.

      

   "Why do you look at the speck of sawdust in your brother's eye and pay no attention to the plank in your own eye?" - Matthew 7:3

         For the last 13 years I have been in one position or another of leadership.  This has come in the form of ministry, educating, social-work, mentoring, coaching, various forms of community involvement, and working as a supervisor.  My life has taken on positions of leadership where I counsel people in morality and ethics.  It's easy for me to counsel people in the direction of right and wrong.  At times it is difficult for me to do as I say.  

         I preach self-love and self-care, yet I rarely give it to myself.  I call those around me to extend grace and forgiveness to themselves but rarely extend mercy within.  I encourage people to follow their passions and dreams, yet, have allowed myself to be grounded to circumstances. I advocate for balance and moderation, yet go to extremes with myself. The list goes on....

       My patience runs thin with the said hypocrite in my life.  I'm always stunned at this individuals ability to move through life constantly contradicting their own words.  Instead of letting this fuel anger inside myself, I'm choosing to let it fuel change within.  I need to focus on the plank in my eye.  Let us become better by the people that challenge us and consider, what is the plank in my eye. 

          

   

When Trust Is Lost

      I still like to fancy myself rather young.  In the spirit of newness to this world, I acknowledge that I haven't experienced a ton of things, although I have a foundation of understanding at this point to lay my feet upon.  In earlier posts I've managed to take some not so beautiful things and flip them into something beautiful; something growing, enlightening, and meaningful.  But what happens when we find ourselves in the midst of something that no words of wisdom, scripture, logic, or even anger can answer?  Are we less because we fail to find some spunky reason or comfort in the midst of our heartache and angst?
      I battle between my 'Christian" understanding and value of things and just sheer bafflement at how human beings can be so god damn depraved of character and values.  I'm going to do my best at setting aside my theological beliefs for a moment because at this time, and a time that many experience, they hold no baring on the gut wrenching feeling we can experience at times.

When we love someone, what do we do when the shades are pulled and we see a character that we wouldn't choose to love?  What do we do when we've been scorned and trust is lost?

      Well, if you've been in an intimate relationship of any sort for a long duration of time; ya probably work it out (at least that's what's been exemplified for me).  If you are finding yourself in this spot with someone that you haven't had a close relationship for a long amount of time; you have to dig deep within.  I mean, we all do, but even more so as a single individual.  We need to examine how we got to be so close with someone that was able to pull the rose colored blinds over our eyes so well.
       It's not in my nature to leave things uninspired, and fueled with energy, and purpose.  It's just not.  I'm actively fighting not to do so right now out of sheer habit.  The truth is, some people hurt us. Some people don't see us.  We get trampled on.  We dust ourselves off, or least try to, and we move on.  We have to, because what's our other option?

      When trust is lost due to someone's actions, we have to look closely at ourselves and ask, why was I here in the first place?

Spera In Deo; Hope In God

       For the first time in many years, I walked around Hope College's campus with a book bag around my shoulder.  Snow was on the ground and as the students passed by me their breath was expended into the atmosphere.  Everything was very different about me walking campus this time.  This time I was an outsider (to the students).  I was a lady and not a girl.  I was observant of their interactions.  Some were laughing. Some were holding in depth conversations.  Some were trudging through the slush filled walkways holding hands of what they probably believed or hoped to be their future spouse.  There was magic.  There was Hope.
      I had time to travel through some of the buildings that hold my heart so close.  Eight years have passed since I've wandered those hallways, auditoriums, used the secret restrooms and corridors as to avoid an abundance of traffic.  I still know some navigating tricks for campus. The students look so young to me.  I referred to them earlier in the day to a collegue as "the kids".  I shocked myself a bit with that statement.  Kids...
      I imagine there a certain magic present on any college campus.  Young adults soaking in knowledge and developing into their own individualistic ideals and personhood; it's an environment unlike any other.  I do think there is a certain quality about Hope College that makes that entity stand out amongst the rest; SPERA IN DEO; a spirit of hope in God.
      I was a bad student while I attended Hope.  I focused the majority of my energies on deep, philosophical, and theological conversations with my peers, softball, and the youth ministry I was involved in.  Though I did not place my efforts into my grades like I should have, I did absorb and crave every ounce of character development that the atmosphere at Hope had to offer.  I entered into the world post-grad with one of the best things I could have; firm knowledge of who was and am.  The last 10 years since graduation have been filled with challenges; ups and downs.  I have had a plethora of professional experiences that have opened my eyes to humanity and the world in which we inhabit.  I've loved. I've been crushed.  I've faced some barriers that looked like mountains that I would never be able to summit.  I've felt defeated but never hopeless. SPERA IN DEO.
      So why was I wandering around the familiar but ever evolving campus that I love the other day?  Despite my lack of focus on my studies at Hope, despite some of my personal war stories, I was highlighted as the Arts and Humanities featured alumna for 2015 for their Arts and Humanities Day.  I was asked to come and speak to Arts and Humanities students because of my degree in Religion and my work over the last 10 years.
      I had a very beloved person in my life ask me the other day if I thought God had forgotten about her.  She has been disillusioned with the Christian religion for many years.  The weight of the question that has plagued her for so long wore on her face in that moment.  I told her that God never forgets us.  It can feel like He's left us for a period of time but we are never forgotten.  I told her that at my most distant and lowest times in my faith walk, God has ironically used me the most.  The times I felt the most worthless, He reminds me that I am somebody to Him.
      10 years ago if someone would have told me that I would be a featured alumna and speaking to students at Hope regularly because of my professional accomplishments and passions, I would have told them they were drunk and to go home! 2 years ago I would have said, "Don't screw with me. You're insane".  1 year ago I would have said, "I'm not useful.  I not someone that could be something like that even if I was given the chance".  SPERA IN DEO.
      Those seemingly impossible mountains were summited and not on my own accord.  God never forgot about me.  When we place our Hope in God, when we are able to look beyond ourselves to our Greater Power, we can do seemingly impossible things.  One of the most amazing and wonderful things I've been able to do in my life is give back to Hope College, in part, what they gave me.  May we all hope in God and know and feel that we are never forgotten.

            SPERA IN DEO. 

Music; "Where Words Leave Off, Music Begins"

       

           My knowledge of music began in the form of records and tapes.  Dad would thumb through his collection, as Mom would wait intently.  She would either vote "yes" or "no"; as a small child, I didn't get a vote.  On occasions, I can remember Dad putting in a tape of his desire and throwing on these gaudy, avocado green, headphones that covered his ears and then some.  Of course, as a young child, I wanted to be just like my Daddy.  He would indulge me and allow me to wear the esteemed, avocado green, headphones.
          As I grew and learned the ins and outs of the stereo-system,  I would put on my parents music and listen to it myself.  I remember those nasty looking headphones bringing me such clarity of sound.  I would lay on the living room floor all by myself with the headphones on; I would lay there, close my eyes, focus on the music, the beat, the words, and be enveloped by the sound.  I came to appreciate many different genres of music through this.  When Mom cooked, we listened to music.  When Dad relaxed, we listened to music.  We. Just. Listened to music.
          My first memorable tape was Nirvana's Nevermind.  I came into possession of this by pulling one over on the neighbors dad at Meijer.  I was in 2nd grade.  GRUNGE.   I felt like a dirty 7 year-old  smuggling that tape in with the cover of a baby and his penis.  This was the first album that was mine; MY music.  This was a simple precursor for what was to come.
          I became a writer of poetry at age 10.  Songs would either inspire me to write or would accompany me as I wrote.  After all, music is poetry of the mind and heart put to a tune.  As I grew older and moved through different emotions and experiences, the music that I listened to started to put to words what I could not.  Music served as my voice in a mind filled with questions; it served as my answers as well.  Bare in mind that all this was before the digital age.  During these times, we knew the album names, we had the next song on the album playing in our heads as the current one was fading; we knew the character of the album.  Some albums became our friends.  We would know them deeply and rely on them in difficult times.  I sought my albums many times for answers unknown.
          All I needed was a song to give someone.  Even if it was something like Ice Cube's You Can Do It, I knew what I was giving would make my friend dance, rap, or whatever else some adolescent white kid would do with a song like that.  I made CD's for everyone in my life.  My writing wasn't the best gift I could give someone; music on a CD seemed eternal.
        Video didn't kill the radio star; digital music almost has.  We no longer know the names of albums, let alone the CHARACTER of an album.  I'm hard put to learn the words to song now.  We are in an era where our attention span is short at best.  A song begins and we immediately skip to something a bit better, and then something else better.  I miss the days where songs sank into my soul.  It didn't matter whether or not they had any great meaning; they were with me.  My adolescents is soaked in songs, albums, verses, words.
          As technology progresses, I can't help but wonder what love of music I will be able to pass on to my instantly gratified, (digital) kids.  Will they ever know the satisfaction of listening to an album from beginning to end?  Will they ever know the art and character infused in to the production of an album? I won't begin with those avocado colored headphones, but I most certainly will sit with my children while they connect with the wonderment that is in a piece of art that is known as music.

Deep Hurt Says Everyone is an ENEMY; Love Says Get Over It!

         I'm nothing special.  I do good, I give to my community.  I love with a vigor.  But something is a little broke. My life and hardships I've met and trudged through make me different but not special.  Everyone wants their life to hold meaning or at the very least, give meaning to someone else.  It's our way of making sense of pain and embracing the joy.  If something awful we've gone through can add some sense of hope or enlightenment to someone else, then we did not suffer in vain...right?
         Overall, I've had an extremely blessed life, filled with wonderful, loving, supportive people; until October of 2009 - February of 2014.  This isn't to say that the good people of my life left, but rather I did.  I moved far away from the goodness that I had always known and entered into a long journey that, in hindsight, I'm sure added character but also stripped me of many things; good things.
         I desperately want for my story to be of use to someone, somewhere.  I do not want what has made me suffer to win by virtue of getting to exist in my life and not do good somewhere for someone else.  The hard part is that I am still trying to figure out just what the fuck happened.  I moved back home to my nice life with wonderful people where I lived for 26 years a happy, whole, mostly undamaged person.  I had these fancy thoughts of sitting back into that life comfortably.  And I could.  Most everyone does not know my secret.  They don't know the damage that has been done to my spirit.  They just see me as I always was.  But I'm not and try as I might to forget, I know my secret.  It affects my interactions with people on a daily basis.
         Deeply rooted pain not only gets inside you and changes you, but it also isolates you.  It's your dark secret that you carry around, hidden, but close to you at all times.  You're always aware and you always feel just a bit different than the rest.  I honestly thought that my spirit was so strong that it couldn't be shaken; that I would never lose my hope and faith in people.  It's sad when life teaches otherwise.  I don't believe that is God's will for me or for anyone else.  We are broken humanity that can be filled with beauty.  This beauty shines through people in the most simplistic ways.  And it's there for the taking.
          But what if life has taught you to be tough, to be hard, to not trust anyone, and expect the worst from people?  I am constantly caught in the conundrum of wanting to embrace my friends and family, people that have been a safe, source of joy, and meaning for me for decades; to give myself to them and then comes the deep learned fear of expecting hurt, pain, deceit, ultimately abandonment.  So I keep these undeserving beautiful souls at bay.  We have our superficial enjoyable interactions but I no longer expose my depth like I used to.
         Two women have managed to pry themselves into my hard shell and demand my heart and depth once again.  One is my best friend from college, who thankfully has never lost faith in me and has vowed to always fight for me.  In her words, she wants me back to the "pre-Colorado" Jess.  I do too.  The second is my poor girlfriend who fell for me long before she realized how broken I am. I've been trying to have a relationship with the most respectful, loving, intelligent, driven, depthy woman for over 8 months now.  We share a deep love and I want to see it all blossom into what it can be.  I want all these things and more but I keep her at bay.  I want her as close as possible but when she approaches me in that way only emotionally intimate lovers can,  I find some reason to push her back so the imagined possibility of her hurting me is minimized.  I've done that with all my unsuspecting friends.  They think I'm just really busy, or when we do talk, my life is just surrounded by work.  Truth is, I just don't want to hurt anymore. I went from being such an open, optimistic, naive, opened-armed person, to guarded and suspect of everyone.
        So my hope for this writing is to simply declare that I don't like this version of me.  It's not who I am at my core but I've been so broken, I don't know who's for real in my life anymore and who's not. I can make educated guesses but there's such room for hurt.  I don't want to isolate anymore.  I don't want to hurt my beloved and plentiful people in my life that love me.  I want to be the partner I need and want to be to the best thing in the flesh that I've come along romantically.  I want for my best friend from college to feel secure in that I will always invite her into my life and my heart.  I want so much.  My faith is God can heal me from all this; this I know.  God can do that for any of us.  Trouble is, if If I'm having trouble being vulnerable to family, friends, my love, how much more scarier is it being vulnerable to the one the Created me?
         I write this in a public forum, not to air my dirty laundry but rather to be real.  I have always been and will always be that.  My hopes is that someone somewhere will read this and know that maybe we're all not as isolated as we think. Having the right people in our lives that can hold up that mirror for us when we have forgotten what we look like is a blessing.  Who ever has broke down my walls many times and reached to my depths, love, and interest...please sing the song of my heart; I've forgotten the tune.



At the end of the day, no matter what has happened to us, God does not desire for anything to impede our ability to love, grow, be vulnerable, in our loving communities.  God help me.

Sometimes Good Presents Come in Bad Wrappings

364 days and 22 hours ago my life changed drastically.  After a long, hard legal battle, which required me to be away from my job too frequently, I was fired.  I was fired from the best, life changing, character building, community giving, job I’ve ever had.

For 2 years and 9 months I worked as an Education and Employment Counselor for homeless youth in downtown Denver at Urban Peak.  I journeyed with my youth through some of the most pivotal, hardest times of their lives.  If ever a person was able to get up in the morning and go to work knowing their labor had purpose; I lived it. 

364 days and 22 hours ago, my supervisor who had journeyed through my personal difficulties, misty-eyed, called me across the street for a meeting.  This was not an easy thing for him to do.  It was necessary though.  My youth needed me present all the time and I simply could not be.  Though I shamelessly begged and pleaded through sobs, my supervisor and deputy director, (who had become my friends, my family) offered me the ability to resign, effective immediately. 

My supervisor walked me to my car, apologized, and hugged me.  It. Was. Over.  Just like that.  My labor, my love, my sense of purpose beyond myself was over.  I had lost my legal battle.  I had lost my home.  My pride, dignity, and self-respect were all gone.  The last thing that held the few pieces of myself together was now gone; my job.  Losing my job also meant that after a number of years of trying to make Colorado my home, I would have to move home to mom and dad. 

There is no cure for a broken heart but time.  There is no Band-Aid for a bleeder but the supports that we surround ourselves with.  I stayed well past my time in Colorado, trying to scrape through ski season.  My sense of purpose was all gone and depression thrived.  The only escape I had from my personal hell was snowboarding.  It provided me a peace I so desperately clinged to.  Money was exhausted and so was my soul. 

I moved home 4 months after being fired from my job.  Into mom and dad’s home I went at 30 years old, after 5 years of living in Colorado, and being out of the house since I was 18.  I had no job prospects and a paralyzing fear of never finding work in my field again.  I returned home to my parents, very much so a child broken by life and needing some rehabilitation.  I had the support I needed to get back on my feet again. 

Two months after moving home I secured a job in my field that would quickly lead to my leadership skills, experience, and passions being utilized.  Urban Peak was an amazing experience but the ceiling was about 2 inches off the ground for me there.  Goodwill Industries has provided me a career where my best has the ability to shine.  Now, one hour shy of it being a true year since I was fired from Urban Peak, I am a boss in my field with a ceiling that feels limitless!

I’ve come from the bottom and I’m rising to the top.  Again, there is no cure for a broken heart but time and there is no Band-Aid for a bleeder but the supports that we surround ourselves with.  I was certain that God had forgotten about me or at the very least, didn’t care about my misery.  It made no sense to me that He would allow me into a position where I could be nothing.  It all makes sense now. 

“And we know that in ALL things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” – Romans 8:28

“For I know the plans I have for you”, declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” – Jeremiah 29:11

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding: in all your ways acknowledge Him, and he will make your paths straight” – Proverbs 3:5-6

TRUST.

The Hands We Hold

     

         More often than not the hands that holds ours as we grow end up being the hands we hold as our loved ones age into the afterlife (if we are lucky).  There is a profound feeling when one returns as an adult to hold one of those hands that has guided us through life.  If you're paying attention the significance of it can hardly be contained in words.
        Today is the first Mother's Day I've been home for in 5 years.  I had the joy of spending it with my Mother and my soon to be 95 year-old Grandmother.  I knelt next to my Grandma for a few family photos.  After the photos had been taken and the rest had dispersed back to their places in the living room, I remained stationary next to my Grandmother.  She rested her head upon my shoulder as I stroked her arm.  I stayed there for a while soaking in the moment; paying attention to little details.  Her body was warm as our shoulder were resting on each others.  I noticed that we were off sync on breathing and I adjusted my breathing to fit hers.  I guess I just wanted to take a moment to breathe with her.  I'm sure there has been many moments in my younger years as I sat next to her that we breathed together but I can't remember one specific time.  I wanted to remember this one.
          I put my hand over hers, noticing the differences and imagining how my hands might look at 95.  I wonder if they will look like hers.  The hand that I held hers with carried a beloved token of love that belonged to her.  My Grandmother gave me her wedding ring a year and a half ago.  It holds the diamonds from her first marriage (my Grandpa Robinson) and the diamond from her second (my Papa).  Papa passed away several years ago.  She was deeply committed to him and wore his ring for many years after he passed.  The honor and bewilderment I have felt over the giving of the ring has coated our relationship since then.  I never asked why she chose me out of all her grandaughters but I sure am grateful she did.  
          It was a very special moment for me to see my hand holding hers with her wedding ring covering us both.  Grandma didn't want to wait to give it to me after she passed.  She wanted to give it to me personally.  I guess it doesn't matter how old you are or what the dynamics of your relationship with your mother or grandmother have been.  At the end of the day we are all children and have come from somewhere.  Sitting next to where I came from, breathing with her, feeling her warmth against mine, I felt a deep love and history that is irreplaceable.  In that moment I could have been anywhere in the world and as long has her head was on my shoulder, I was home.