thoughts + prayers

I had so many ideas of how I'd tell the story. I thought maybe I'd preach again and tell it all. Maybe a long post on Instagram. But I don't know, I got tired of working  to tell my story, or exploiting too much of myself. So here it is, and if you found it, it means you looked for it. And I'd rather that than just any and everybody swiping past it to get to the next post about some twenty-something finding themself with a collection of random pictures.

Thank you, ____. I so appreciate everything you've done for me in this time. I'm not sure how much longer I can do this, but wanted to let you know you supported me in the toughest time. 

That's the text that changed my life forever. My best friend at the time rushed over to my place. She was so worried, and justifiably so. She rushed another friend of mine from the IE to come stay the night with me so I wouldn't be alone. I'd felt this way before, this deep pain and pressure, but this was the first time I felt weightless, too. I didn't care who knew, who came for me, who loved me, who wanted me gone. I just didn't care anymore. 

I'm kind of angry, FYI.

Oh...
Actually, no, I am very angry

Oh no.

I apologize in advance. 

And that's the text thread from just a week before the weightless feeling. June. I was cycling through mixed episodes so rapidly. 

April, I uprooted my life because I thought I was in danger; I was so paranoid. I had a shitty therapist at the time who encouraged me to move, I don't think therapists are supposed to do that.

May, I felt euphoric about uprooting my life. I had transitioned my daughter well, she was loving our new space. She was happy, we were safe. I made new friends who I adored. My mom helped me so much.

But June...started with manic days. One right after the other. Solo IKEA trips every three or four days. Mid June, I lost it. I actually felt reality slipping through my fingers. Every feeling or experience from that time was valid. But it's like, picture this: you have a feeling at your feet while you're walking down the street. You bend down to pick it up, then you let it go. Mania and depressive episodes are like, you see the feeling at your feet. You pull out your magnifying glass. You study it all day. You set up a tent outside and live right by it. That's bipolar. Your feelings are real, but they are so magnified nothing else matters.

So June, when everything snapped. I tried three hospitals because I was looking for help by myself while in psychosis. My friend came with me to the first one. Asked no questions. Just gave me an ETA and there we were, in the ER. She is my sister, genuinely the definition of a soul sister. 

When I finally got discharged at the third hospital, she was right there. Gave me the AUX and the first track I played was Made It by Teyanna Taylor. "I know that's right!!" She hyped me up, fresh out the mental hospital. I felt like a kid. It was why I'd avoided telling anyone for so long. I didn't want to be monitored, I didn't want to lose my agency. 

Honestly, I really didn't wanna see what happened when "the plan" didn't go through. That's the hardest part.

Those friends I made in May? The ones I adored? They ghosted me. Well...one of them did. The other just sent laughing emojis when I kept sending Reels and I gave up sending them after a while. But no closure. I get it, to them everything I told them was made up. I'm sure they just couldn't make sense of it all. One friend told me "You sent us on a wild goose chase just for you to end up where you started." She meant the part where I reconciled with my partner. Those words haunted me. All the way through my intensive outpatient, into couples therapy, and to this day...ten months later.

My coworkers knew about 25% of my personal life before my bipolar disorder betrayed me. My illness tore down all my fences and train wrecked my professional boundaries. I asked for their help when I was scared and alone. They helped me. Now I just can't get through a meeting without thinking that somehow they still feel confused or betrayed to find out it wasn't a person who scared me or isolated me, but my own thoughts. My own mind.

We had a family friend who house sat for my partner. Last time I saw him, I asked him so many questions, cornered him with my tears. He came by the house today and I didn't  know what else to talk about besides my graduate studies. It made me feel in control and put together,  not a manic paranoid mess he last saw me.

Our chosen family. Church community or not, I have mixed feelings around them. I'm happy they know me, all of me, my most authentic self. I don't feel the need to put up any fronts anymore. But I do feel incredibly embarrassed for what I said and did when I was not in the driver's seat of my actions.

Then there's the most important audience before the one in my mirror: my mom, my daughter, my husband, my truest friends. Around them, I don't feel embarrassed anymore. They stuck it out with me. They saw every twist and turn, decisions they could have questioned and criticized, and they called me strong. Brave. Loved. I need them. And looking at all the other people I listed before them, maybe I don't need to feel painfully embarrassed around them. Whether they believe me or not, understand what happened or not...I know who I am.

And it only took 4-ish months of medical leave, 3 hospitals, 2 ambulances, 1 diagnosis, 1 IOP, and 32 weeks of self love for me to figure it out.

2024

The throughlines. Latinx With Plants. Preciosa Night. Charlotte airport. Walgreens on Breed, Cataphant, State St Park. Evergreen. Church. 

In the Job era that was 2023, these things remained. They were home regardless of my address. And lemme tell you, there's actually a lot more throughlines. But once you start naming people it becomes an Oscar acceptance speech. From where I'm standing, I really get the term "full circle."

I was scared of reconciliation post-diagnosis because it meant I had about three options. One, thank the people who were there for me, two, make amends, and three, accept reconciliation meaning letting people go.

It's all reconciliation, and all of it is probably equally difficult. But the one thing we least expect to reconcile with sometimes turns out to be the most beautiful story.

It's like this: there's two trees. One grew between a river and sidewalk. All of her roots originated closer to the sidewalk, but she craved the water. Made her life by the bankside. Another tree was uprooted, also from the sidewalk. That tree was relieved to have landed by the river, but was struggling to take root there.

The first tree extended a branch, and the two decided if they just helped each other, they could settle down by the bankside. Their roots were intertwined, but neither were fully rooted in the earth beside the river. Their roots drifted with the current. So when it was calm for one, it was calm for the other. When it was tumultuous for one, there was no real peace to be found.

The first tree became sick. Started to wither away, which made the second tree angry. Beneath the anger was sickness, too. Roots rotting, the other tree drifting off. They were now on opposite sides of the river. They slowly began to truly take root for themselves. Apart, but finding their footing. It looked like everything was turning a page. But then something strange happened. With stronger roots, they began to grow taller, and soon enough their branches came together, creating a shade above the river. They would never have known it if they hadn't allowed life to take its course. Even if it did mean drifting away for a time. But at least now they were both far from the sidewalk, and always together.

And now I understand why Jesus spoke in parables. He didn't wanna be dropping names and telling his business to everyone 😂.
But really, this is what this year has been like for me and my family. My illness threw so much away. Didn't know left from right. Somehow we found our way. And without the paranoia, critical perspective, mood swings, and episodes at the front of my mind, I can finally see everything as it is. I can understand love, and finally know what it means to be loved. 

There's something about a safe haven. At this altar, I've felt the hand of God, known forgiveness, seen Jesus' heart for others, received my call to ministry+ travels abroad, gained a letter of apology, danced with my future husband, laughed, cried, and discovered new friendships and learned to trust again. In fact, there are some of you reading this who were here for those things! The family of those healed and loved by Jesus stretches far, and loves deep.

so much has happened here. and I'm crazy enough to believe He'll do it again for all these young people this summer. SoCAL + PSW family, we've only tasted the beginning of what God is going to do here. ❣️

2017

I have seen + experienced a lot of brokenness in my life. But Andrew, looking at him makes me see the sun shining through the broken pieces. He reminds me that all things come together in beauty. He prays for me, with me, and over me. Our marriage is a beacon of hope for me: that unity is not only possible, but lasting. This is my joy. That Jesus is in all things. And that Andy is proof of that. ❤️

2018

So National Suicide Prevention Week has come to a close, and I'd like to finish on this. My father was the funniest man I'd ever known, super creative, very intelligent, and a deeply spiritual soul. When I share what little I know about suicide prevention, I make it a point to say we must call out the gold in the people we are loving to life. That's what my entire healing journey as a suicide survivor has been:loving his memory, my experience, my grief TO LIFE. Yes, I miss my daddy dearly. But look at the pure joy that shines through those moments of grief. For those who have contemplated, attempted, or survived a suicide, let's not miss life. Let's remember the passion and beautiful people around us that keep us going. #iwasmadefor loving to life, and I don't plan on being stingy with that purpose ⭐️

2018

And this is what we do for our women. We put books in their hands + see that they are educated. Tonight, I needed a concordance for a sermon I should have started weeks ago tbh 😅Thankfully, momma has biblical texts just lying around because she's a freakin boss woman who sought after education. Regardless of your field of study ladies, if you are pursuing a degree or being intentional about being a forever learner of life, champion one another. It's a beautiful thing to realize we can reach as high as we please. Every time I pass by my school's chapel I tear up. I always think, here is a little blaxican girl whose only care when she was small was that she got that tire swing in her front yard on 130th + Mona. And now just look, she was championed by her momma and many other strong women and leaders to reach as high as she desires. Gets me every time. Education is such a beautiful treasure 📚

2017

So I guess today is #dayofthegirl2017. 

This is an actual snapshot of me, dreaming. It has come to my attention that not that long ago, "Pastor's Wife" was an acceptable future life plan + goal for a Christian woman. That not long ago, declaring she is called to be a senior pastor was taboo. Yes, senior pastor. AKA lead pastor. AKA not co-/associate/assistant pastor. Although there's nothing wrong with any of those titles, there is something wrong with only seeing men plant and lead churches for the vast majority. The harvest is plenty, but the workers few so why be picky about  who shepherds our flocks? 🐑 

Being a pastor is a call I've run from, but I know it's what God has put on my heart. To reach people and love them well. I pray that more girls across the globe are encouraged to declare their future, even if it makes others uncomfortable. So yes, you're looking at a future senior/lead/not your average pastor.

God, give me strength. The strength to ask for help when I need it.

Grant me the gift of patience, it is the kindest thing I can share with my Vayda.

Help me to smile the way she does.

Teach me what love and happiness are, because my daughter seems to be ahead of me in this knowledge. 

Forgive me when I shame other moms due to my own insecurities, may I find commonalities and bond with them instead.

Teach me the ways of Motherhood, show me how to mother the way You do.

The way You provide for and nourish your sons and daughters. Your extension of sacrificial love. Your sweet words of comfort. The soothing sound of Your voice. 

Reveal to me the secret reality of Your feminine heart, may I laugh, cry, and enjoy every moment of her life.

2020

Man, I do not know if it's my improved gut health via probiotics (s/o @cataphant ) or getting my first paycheck in a year or WHAT. But I've actually felt the most emotionally regulated than ever lately. The most aware self empathetic and self-compassionate. The truth is, I'm really thankful to be a teacher. I'm accepting myself for who I am, not who I wish I was or wish I'd be doing. And honestly, I haven't meditated on Scripture in a daily way in months. It's been hard to listen to contemporary christian music bc all I hear now is hypocrisy. The weekly ritual of Sunday Church is shattered. Every facade form of devotion broken. But it's made way for deeper, more genuine worship. Like hikes, and diving into "Discernment" by Henri Nouwen, like discussions on Faith with my husband, like questions, lots of questions. Like dinner with other Christ followers. Like seeking out voices of color who sing praises to God from a marginalized yet so hopeful life experience. My soul needs this. That's why I'm pursuing spiritual guidance, I love seeing people heal from spiritual abuse/disillusionment and begin to hear God again. My soul has finally found rest and I just wanted to share ♥️ 

2021

You know what's super fascinating to me? The amount of grind culture/patriarchal rhetoric used around spirituality. Words like:

🔨Tools

🔨Build 

🔨Victory 

🔨Success

🔨Fight

Are all used to describe our spiritual growth. The fascinating part is, any other aspect of our being uses maternal language when referring to growth. Our bodies? We nourish them. Our minds? We stimulate them. Our health? We monitor it. Our loved ones? We care for them. 

This week, I tried to catch myself every time I used terminology like this in my spiritual life. Even words like "God will use you" is suuupppeer grind culture. God is kind, God is maternal. God wants us to:

🌺Nurture

🌺Nourish

🌺Cherish

🌺Rest 

🌺Carry

Our spirits. There will be times in our lives we need to fight. But if all we're doing is seeing God as a father who wants us to succeed, we will miss the moments that are akin to a mother's biological need to nourish and hold her child. 

And it's this grind culture that is killing pastors. It's this imbalance of God's parental image that is stripping families involved in ministry of quality time. So we can either constantly see the ways we can "achieve" in our spiritual journey, or we can discover ways to rest and be kind to ourselves. Which is more sustainable?

2020