Ah, Saturday confession.
The day where I share something I’m learning about myself, or recently mastered, and feel it’s time to share.
So if that’s your issue, you don’t feel so alone.
What’s new is that you’re welcome to link up.
If you have a confession, share it.
Let’s kick isolation to the curb once and for all.
While I have you, I have some slots left for next month’s thankful submissions.
I hand my blog over to you and you share why you are thankful. As always, the posts are amazing.
Send your thoughts. As little as a few sentences and as much as 750 words to firstname.lastname@example.org
with a bio and optional picture, signing off as you want to be known (first name, full, anonymous.)
First come, first serve, and I reserve the right to edit, but rarely do.
When I feel healthy, I’m a dynamo. I can maintain many schedules and logistics. Pay bills. Laundry.
Make meals, shuttle children. Write. Minister. Encourage. Laugh. Chat. Rest. Start over.
It took decades to realize and have doctors diagnose that until I’m healed or otherwise with the Lord, I need medicine to feel that way.
It’s hormonal imbalance with menopause. For years it was also PCOS, but a hysterectomy took care of that.
My insurance now has us ordering from mail express, and I refilled late.
The medicine hasn’t arrived.
I did what I years ago didn’t dare to do.
I warned everyone.
I’ve pictured myself clinging to Jesus, just wrapped around His neck, sitting on His lap, wanting nothing but His safety and comfort.
Because for me, I have radical temperature changes. Forget surges.
Anxiety with irrational thoughts.
And then the tears.
The tears started Wednesday, and I used to have such shame, because there wasn’t a real reason for them.
This time I tried to look at my schedule one event at a time, dig deep, and move forward.
When the tears came, I wiped them with my sleeve and kept going.
I’ve longed for it not to be busy, but it is what it is. The kids are off until Monday.
It’s a full schedule.
The youngest had so many medical appointments. The last including needing 4 vials of blood and a sample taken. She was done. Me too. Usually I can have my strong face on for her. But as soon as we were done, I was blinking tears away.
Hours later I couldn’t remember the name of the heat box in the family room. Yeah, the thermostat.
Then I started to get teary when my husband let me know what he thinks of Pepperjack Cheez It’s. I bought the wrong cheese. I wanted to lash out and justify my attempt. But I knew insecurity would have been talking, and that’s best left until better days.
But I’m getting through.
Thriving? No. But compared to other times, it’s not horrible.
I’ve talked about this kind of thing before, but I promised to be real, surrendered or surrendering,
and I felt like someone out there is going to feel less alone with me sharing.
If hormonal imbalance is your issue, chuck the shame. You’re too amazing to wear such a dud.
Be open, within reason, and stay in touch with your doctor. It might take tweaking. It has for me.
Don’t let a religious person bring you down. I am a straight up Jesus girl with faith in Him big enough to believe for a resurrection if God asked me to pray for one.
It’s okay to take medicine if that is where God directs you.
And it’s okay to keep believing for a supernatural healing while you wait.
But doing nothing, or letting the emotions control you, don’t.
Wife. Mom. Author. Reader. Blogger. Amateur nature photographer. Chocolate eater. Encouraging you to surrender the good, the bad, and---maybe one day---the chocolate.
Find me across social media @JulieArduini, and follow me on my Amazon Author Page.
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