I woke with a splitting headache and deep dark circles beneath my eyes. Tugging the sleep mask back over my eyes, I longed to bury myself in the sheets and blankets and not come out for a good long while. But the pounding of my head forced me to seek out water. And coffee. And some Ibuprofen. Stat.
I had all the classic symptoms of a hangover. But too much bourbon wasn’t to blame. No, instead I had an emotional hangover.
My body was completing depleted – emotionally and physically – from crying for the better part of the previous evening. I’d alternated between sobbing into my husband’s shoulder and choking out a few words while he stroked my hair and tried to encourage me.
Unfortunately, this scenario wasn’t exactly a new experience for us. Since moving to LA, I’ve had plenty of sad moments. I’ve felt lost and lonely more days than I care to count. But this evening was different. Continue reading
Friends, I’m writing a book on what I’ve learned while recovering from perfectionism. Subscribe here for sneak peeks and insider updates I only share over email. No spam. Just love.
Today I had the opportunity to celebrate the 125th anniversary of my alma mater, Whitworth University, at a gathering for Bay Area alumni. The group consisted of everyone from the class of 2014 to the class of 1964 and included a few of my ’08 classmates. While their faces were familiar, it was somewhat strange to realize how much time had passed and how little we knew of each other.
I’m not one for small talk, but not because I don’t like meeting new people or catching up with old acquaintances. Quite the contrary. I love talking with people; I simply avoid the “small” part of it. I believe words matter, and I take that belief into every conversation. I enjoy making people feel at ease, letting them know through my questions and my listening that I’m not just talking with them for pleasantries’ sake; I truly care. I derive such joy from transitioning an awkward conversation or stilted small talk to something of more depth – something that makes people feel comfortable.
I think that’s part of my calling – to help people learn to live more comfortably in their own skin and to recognize just how loved they are. Continue reading
If I didn’t have writing, I think I’d weigh a thousand pounds. Rather than eating my feelings all the time – which, let’s be honest, I still sometimes do – writing is a much healthier environment for processing my thoughts and emotions than a bag of sweet potato chips or a bar of dark chocolate.
When the craving to snack strikes, that typically means I need to write. If I’m not hungry but I’m salivating over salted almonds, there’s probably something behind that.
If I want to pour myself a glass of bourbon, first I need to pause to appraise my feelings. In my more clear-headed moments, I ask myself:
- Why do I want it?
- Should I write or go for a walk or do anything else instead?
(If you’re wondering, the answers to those questions are usually “because it tastes good and I like it and maybe I just want to soften the edges this hard day a bit.” And “yes, I should probably do any of those things before sitting down with a glass of bourbon – alone.”)
Bourbon in good company is great. Bourbon alone requires discernment.
I don’t just ignore my cravings, though. That rarely works. If I try to stuff them in a drawer, they become like little gremlins, banging and shouting to be let out. They make a mess. In my mind, in my heart. It’s not pretty. And usually, I just end up frustrated and caving in and having that handful of almonds or that third cookie that I don’t really need but just want for the crunch. Continue reading
This blog is called “Waiting for the End of the Sentence.” Choosing that name was partly just a funny little play on words about how I’ve been waiting for my missing period (get it?) to return for the past five years. But the name was also birthed out of a feeling that I’m waiting for the end of my story – the end of the story God is writing.
What I’ve come to realize in the last five years of posting on this site is that the end isn’t coming. At least, not on this earth. Instead, God is teaching me so much in the process of him writing my story – a story that fits within the bigger picture of his grand story of love and redemption. He’s using the wonderful, joyful moments and the hurtful, confusing ones to create something much larger and powerful than I often comprehend in the moment.
Finding Grace in the Gray
A more appropriate title for this blog might be “Finding Grace in the Gray.” Because life is not black and white. It’s not a series of starts and finishes. Clear beginnings and clear endings. It’s an often messy work-in-progress. A charcoal drawing that blends varying shades of black with splashes of white to create something more nuanced and beautiful than we can recognize when we’re staring at it too closely. Continue reading
It has been a long time since I last posted on this site. A year and a half to be exact. And in that year and a half, I have not had a period. (Guys, don’t feel like you have to stop reading here…but if you’re already freaked out, then that’s okay, I give you complete permission to leave.)
In this time (since April of last year), I have been through some major changes. I’ve shared a dark secret with my parents and as a result experienced the most profound example of grace in my life to-date. I’ve dated, gotten engaged to, and broken up with a man I was convinced was the one. I’ve moved to San Francisco, found an incredible church community, and met some amazing people whom I now count among my best friends.
Above all else, though, I have grown intimately in love with my Creator. He has pursued me faithfully, and I sense that He continues to walk beside me as I wait for the conclusion to some major question marks in my life. I am actively seeking out shalom – working toward resolution in my broken relationships, trying to be healthy so that my period will return, and attempting to understand God’s intention in that most mysterious of relationships: marriage.
I’m still waiting, but I’m not silent. I’ve been sharing my story with my girlfriends, my family, my pastors. And what I’ve learned is that I’m not alone. Lots of other women are struggling with hormone imbalances, infertility, and confusion or frustration in their dating/married life. So now I’m sharing with you, hoping that you’ll be encouraged and challenged…and if you have insight, then please, please share.