I've had a certain love affair with Billy Joel's music since I was about nine years old. I think it started right after I was adopted by my parents; I remember riding with my dad in his black S-10 pickup and when Billy Joel's "Its Still Rock 'n Roll To Me" would start playing on the radio, my dad would start drumming his hand on the steering wheel, singing to his music. Flash forward a few years, I really started listening to his music and the lyrics behind what he would write. He has written many great songs and had many great albums, yet he really hasn't had any new mainstream music since 1993 (River of Dreams). About a year ago he was interviewed by The New York Times  and he shared something blatantly profound:

"Everybody is different. Some writers can write reams of great books and then J. D. Salinger wrote just a few. Beethoven wrote nine symphonies. They were all phenomenal. Mozart wrote some 40 symphonies, and they were all phenomenal. That doesn't mean Beethoven was a lesser writer, it’s just some guys are capable of more productivity, some guys take more time. Mozart.......he’s like a naturally gifted athlete, you listen to Mozart and you go: “Of course. It all came easy to him.” Beethoven you hear the struggle in it. Look at his manuscripts, and there’s reams of scratched-out music that he hated. He stops and he starts. I love that about Beethoven, his humanity shows in his music. Mozart was almost inhuman, unhuman."

Do you ever question yourself on the inside? Maybe why you aren't more driven? Or maybe you are driven but question why you don't have the creativity you used to have? I know these exact thoughts have gone through my mind many times. I question why I've been so 'off and on' in my writing over the past 5 or so years. Why I haven't pursued things in writing I'm passionate about. Why am I not further in this whole writing 'thing' than I am? Why sometimes I don't just---write. I look back and I read what I've put out there and think: "wow. that came from me?" and then I look back on unfinished work I have and wonder,"what was I thinking?" I've seen struggle in my writing. I've heard pain in it, too.

There's a small part of me that wishes I had the drive others have for writing: the patience, the fortitude, the skill even. I hate the thought that I would even try to compare my work to others, because naturally I am a champion & encourager of others and their work. Yet, there's this little part of me that just wants to be in the corner of their room where they are writing and see how they get inspired. get ideas. thoughts.

I wonder if that's where you're at today?

Do you wonder why you aren't further in something you are passionate about? Why you pursue and pursue and it seems like you just keep beating on; like a boat against the current as F.Scott Fitzgerald so eloquently puts it? 

Maybe its the past that's keeping you from fully plunging into what your dreams are. Maybe its self-doubt. Maybe you question 'who am I?' 

Is it time to let that go? To know you are human and have struggle?  

Possibly through that struggle, you may produce some of the greatest work, achievements and dreams you could ever have. It may even be possible it could give hope to others and remind them that they have humanity also. 

Embrace the struggle. Fight through it. Push through it. Embrace your humanity. 

It may be the greatest thing you could ever do.

 "Hush little baby, Don't you cry, Don't cut your arms, Don't say goodbye. Put down that razor, 
   Put down that light, It may be hard but, You'll win this fight." 
                    ~Emily Griffin

This week is Suicide Prevention Week. While it may not be something that effects you personally, chances are it does effect someone in your life. right now. this very minute. 

I recently heard one of the greatest quotes on this subject by Kay Warren, who lost her son just this last year~
"Most people who struggle with suicidal thoughts do not want to die. They want the pain to stop."

I believe one of the greatest epidemics of this generation is self harm & suicide.

There's this incredible organization called To Write Love on Her Arms you can find it here. 

On their site they share this:
                
"Self-injury is the deliberate harming of one’s body without the intent of suicide."

TWLOHA continues with~
"Self-injury is used as a maladaptive coping mechanism to deal with intense emotions."

There are vast amount of differences between self-harm/self-injury and suicide. My hope is what I write here helps correct any thoughts or ideas you have towards the subject.

Right now, at this moment, I ask you to throw any preconceived notions, ideas or thoughts on self-harm out the window and just listen for the next few minutes. 

-Self-harm affects 14-24% of young adults and youth today.

-4% of adults self injure.

-Male & females both report similar rates on self-injury.

Why am I writing this today? I want to share this in hope to encourage, give hope and show compassion to others who may be experiencing this. I am writing this to share my story.
                
"When we tell our stories, we change the world." ~Brene Brown

Self-harm wasn't something I went searching for or even wanted in my life.  It's something so shameful to me that I would hide my scars and I would put up a front of perfection. When in reality I was crumbling down on the inside. 

I spent most of my childhood & teen years and if I'm going to be completely honest many of my adult years broken. From the outside though, you would never be able to tell. As a child, I was the perfect student, never caused trouble, turned assignments on time, not missing much school. In junior high & high school I was the quiet girl who always had a smile on her face. As a young adult, I was the over achiever, pastor wife, employee who excelled at everything.

On the inside was another story. I can't remember a day that wouldn't go by that internally I would beat my self up. The only way I can describe it is mental self harm. I would tell my self how ugly, unwanted, dumb, stupid and unloved I was. This was just the beginning. 

With everything harmful, there are things that you do to pacify yourself but after a while, you seek something more destructive. 

I eventually started to hate who I was. Where I came from (being given up to foster care at the age of three) and I literally started to have no hope. This was the beginning of my battle with self-harm & injury. I would actually think, 'If people knew my real struggle, thoughts and deep down who I really was they would never, ever want to even be around me.' Would you believe this whole time I knew God, went to a Christian School, had Christian friends? 

It eventually got to the point that I didn't want to accept that self-harm was OK in my life and I sought therapy. For me the purpose of self-injury was a type of release.  When I would get overwhelmed, intense emotions, hurt, pain; self-harm was the only thing that would help me feel like I could cope. I want you to know it wasn't ever something I tried to use to end it all. I never wanted to die when I would self-harm, please remember this if you take anything away. Different things trigger it, too. A fight with a friend or loved one. Feeling out of control. A song. A thought. A memory. I would be lying to say its not still something I'm still tempted to fall back into. I'm so thankful now I have the tools, desire and support around me to stay healthy. I'm stronger today than I was yesterday, last week, last year. I know I'm loved by God, my family and those closest to me.

I'm also not defined by self-harm. I'm not defined by struggle. I'm made stronger because of it. It's helped me to have compassion towards others and whatever struggle they have. It's humbled me to see others and myself as a person that is so much more than what the struggle may be. I choose to not to think of it as a struggle, it's just part of my story.

My biggest motivation to stay strong & healthy and not fall back into self-harm is actually my children. I think about the woman, the mother, the example I want them to have. I look in their eyes and see that they need a mother who has the choice use other things to cope with hurt or pain besides self-injury. 

If you are reading this now and you are having thoughts or struggle with self-harm, please know you aren't alone. I'll stand with you with my hand raised high; not proud, but humbly sharing I'm a daughter, mother, a pastor's wife who has been in the trenches of self-harm. I've hid the scars behind watches that don't work, bracelets and long sleeves. Now I'm no longer afraid, defined or held back by self-harm. I'm here for you and want to connect you with the right resources to help your process of healing. 

It is possible.

You are not alone.

Last year I had the opportunity to work at Starbucks for about 5 months. The location I worked at was in a very affluent community in the west valley of Phoenix. It was some of the most difficult & rewarding work all at the same time. I know what you are thinking "rewarding? you're making coffee and espresso and selling it to the masses!"

you are correct. in a sense. here's what I learned from one of the most strenuous, taxing, fulfilling, humbling, growing experiences I've ever had.

It all started with a table.

I would work the "no one should get up this early and get coffee or hang out at Starbucks" shifts.

At the middle of our store we had this huge brown modern table that took up about half the room.

At about 6 am-7am every morning a very cool thing happened.

One by one each person would trickle in from all walks of life and gather around this table. doctor. writer. customer service rep. actor. engineer. waitress. fireman. Vietnam war veteran. Every morning they met around that table to converse, laugh, enjoy life together before their respective day. What was impressive wasn't the fact that they met at Starbucks each morning, but the fact that they all craved community together. It became a gathering place for them all to meet and uplift and encourage each other. It didn't matter where they came from or what they did.... at this table they were friends and comrades in this crazy walk of life.

It wouldn't even last an hour sometimes before one by one each person would continue with the rest of their day & pick up their coffee and leave through the double doors from where they started.

That hour meant the world to me each morning. I would watch them and it would remind me that there are people out there who care. Who love to invest in the lives of others and don't care who you are or where you came from to be apart of it.

I like to think I made it through those 5 months because of that table and those wonderful everyday people who gathered around it.