Tag: rest

32 Years of Becoming

Posted on by fearlessatheart

32 🤍

It’s my birthday month. I decided to be like my 3 year old and celebrate all month long. Why not? Life is hard enough as is so why not look forward to something happy?

How am I going to be that old?

Sometimes I still feel like that awkward 12-year-old trying to find her place between cultures and continents. But somewhere along the way, I’ve grown into someone who is finally comfortable in who I am—and who God created me to be, quirks and all.

Here are a few things I’ve learned in almost 32 years:

• Be yourself. The people who matter don’t mind, and the people who mind don’t matter. (This one took me years.)
• My heart has space for multiple countries—every place leaves its mark.
• Sometimes you have to step away, put yourself first, and rediscover God in the wilderness.
• No matter how hard life gets, you are deeply loved by a Father who never lets go.
• A well-timed dance party can fix more than you think.
• God wastes nothing—He uses every part of your story for good.
• There is no such thing as coincidence—only God.
• You’ll regret the things you didn’t do more than the ones you did. Be brave.
• Make plans, but hold them loosely—life will surprise you.
• Every person in your life has a purpose, whether they stay or go.
• Comparison steals joy—don’t let it.
• Be present. These moments are fleeting.
• People matter. Always.
• Talk to strangers—you might just find connection where you least expect it.
• Do fewer things, but do them well.
• It’s okay—and healthy—to say no.
• Your job is not your identity.
• Self-care isn’t selfish.
• Life is about the journey, not just the destination.
• Who you were at 20 is not who you are now—and that’s a good thing.
• Never stop learning.
• Self-awareness is a superpower.
• Hold tightly to the people who bring out the most in you—they’re rare.
• You become like the people you surround yourself with. Choose wisely.
• Distance doesn’t diminish real friendship.

32 feels different. Not because everything is figured out—but because I’m finally okay with that.

And honestly… I wouldn’t go back.

“Nine Years Later: Living, Learning, and Parenting With a Brain Injury.”

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March is Brain Injury Awareness Month 🧠

I really didn’t think I would still be struggling with things nine years later. But here we are — nine years later — and migraines still knock me for a loop.

I’m just going to be honest here… my brain injury has complicated this season of life as a student and a parent. It has made my “normal” TBI symptoms — migraines, forgetfulness, and brain fog — worse at times. Migraines like that are fewer and farther between now, but when they hit, they knock me down because I’m not expecting them anymore.

It’s in moments like this that I wish so badly to just be normal. But then I remember something important: this injury didn’t take away who I am — in many ways, it added to it. I’m the person I am today because of it.

So during Brain Injury Awareness Month, here are a few things to keep in mind when interacting with people who may have experienced known or unknown head trauma.

Every injury is different.
You may know someone who had a brain injury, but that doesn’t mean you know this person’s story. I understand the desire to relate, but sometimes the best thing you can do is simply listen. Their story might surprise you.

Thinking differently doesn’t mean we are less intelligent.
Can I be vulnerable for a moment? This is one of my biggest fears. On bad brain days, when words get stuck and my thoughts feel tangled, I worry people will think I’m incompetent. I know I shouldn’t care so much about what people think — but I’ve worked incredibly hard to get where I am. Words might get caught sometimes, but that doesn’t mean the thoughts aren’t there. If anything, I know I’m just as smart — if not smarter — than I was before my accident. And honestly, I’m doing things now that I once thought would be impossible.

“Invisible” disabilities are still disabilities.
Just because you can’t see everything someone is dealing with doesn’t mean it isn’t real. Many people with brain injuries are fighting battles you’ll never notice from the outside.

These are just a few ways we can create a little more understanding and acceptance for people living with brain injuries.

Thanks for reading my thoughts. 💛

Ordinary Places, Extraordinary Grace

Posted on by fearlessatheart

Ordinary.
That word makes me flinch.

For 32 years, I’ve tried not to be ordinary—because ordinary feels too close to boring, forgettable, unimportant. And don’t lie and tell me you’ve never linked those words together in your mind.

I just finished reading Shannan Martin’s The Ministry of Ordinary Places tor the second or third time.. I originally picked it up because I love her heart and writing, but I was also curious. In my mind, ministry and ordinary don’t naturally go together.

Then I started reading.

From the introduction, she had me hooked:

“I always thought being called by God was a rare and special thing that happened to only a slim percentage of unlucky people… Whenever (‘the call’) popped up, I kindly reminded God that I’m not that kind of woman. I’m indoorsy, with a sensitive gag reflex and a mortal phobia of outhouses.”

I laughed—and sympathized—but I realized I’m the opposite. I feel the call to go. To leave. To serve overseas. But circumstances have kept me here. And honestly, I’m more comfortable on the mission field than I am in suburban America.

This tension—going versus staying—has followed me for years. Lately, I’ve felt peace about being right here, right now, in Mansfield. But Shannan Martin’s words drove the question deeper into my heart:

“God got busy shrinking the world as I knew it down to a pinhole… Rather than feeling stuck in a problem-sodden world I would never be able to fix, God was caring for my soul by pointing me toward my corner of it and asking me to believe it was enough.”

That challenged me.
Was it enough? Could it be enough?
If I stayed in America—in Mansfield, Ohio—for the rest of my life, would that be enough?

I was thinking about the weekend I was at a junior high retreat. I led a small group of sixth-grade girls. It was exhausting and life-giving all at once—middle schoolers have endless energy, and I drank an alarming amount of coffee.

But that question kept echoing in my mind:
If you stayed here forever, would it be enough?

Would listening, loving, and pointing these girls toward Jesus be enough?
It’s not as extraordinary as helping starving orphans in Mexico or serving in Africa. It doesn’t feel heroic.

Would sacrificing sleep to love a girl who doesn’t know what safe love looks like be enough?
Would a hug, a smile, a compliment be enough for a girl who never feels like she’s good enough?

I say I’m content with staying, but I wasn’t sure I believed it—until one girl wrapped her arms around me and held on like I was her lifeline. I saw the weight she was carrying, and it broke me.

Middle school is confusing and heavy and lonely. Holding her, wishing I could carry some of that weight for her, I felt something shift in me.

I started to believe this might be enough.

This “ordinary” life.
This quiet, unseen ministry.
This corner of the world.

Shannan Martin writes:

“In a world that pushes us toward bigger, better, more costly and refined, seeing the humble as radiant is an act of holy resistance.”

That line won’t leave me. Faithfulness in the small, the quiet, the overlooked—it’s holy resistance.

This is my corner of the world.
MCS. Rehab. These girls. My Bible study. Mansfield.

My heart is still scattered across Ukraine and so many places around the globe. But this—right now—this is where God has placed me.

Sitting on the sidewalk with that girl, holding her, I started to believe that this is enough.

So if you need me, you’ll find me circled around a bonfire, loving the people in my corner of the world—finally believing that ordinary is enough.

From Fearful Thoughts to Fierce Truths

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I have this very bad habit of lying to myself.

I get caught up in my head, letting negative thoughts about my abilities, my worth, and even my appearance weave their way into my life.
“You’re not good enough or pretty enough.”
“You can’t do that.”
“They only hung out with you because you kept bothering them.”
“See? You don’t know as much as you thought.”
“They probably don’t even want to be around you.”
“Don’t even try—you’ll fail.”

These lies feed my insecurities and sideswipe my desire to be brave. They make me second-guess myself and drag me into a downward spiral I know too well. Being an overthinker doesn’t help; I read too deeply into my actions and the actions of others. Those toxic thoughts hold me back from boldness, fill me with fear, and convince me that failure is inevitable.

These past few weeks have been a constant battle as the lies whisper that I don’t belong, that I’m not capable, that I am not enough. I hate failing—or even risking failure—so hiding behind these thoughts has felt safer than stepping out and trying to build new friendships, navigate adulthood, or learn the ropes at my job.

In the quiet moments, instead of finding rest, I let the lies settle in. The quiet became lonely. Heavy.
And honestly? I failed.
I failed at living audaciously because I let fear convince me to stay nestled in my comfort zone.
I failed—the very thing I was trying to avoid.

Recently, I was challenged to play a simple game. I immediately refused.
Why? Because I knew I’d lose. 

But in my hesitation, someone asked me to step out of my comfort zone. I blurted out, “I do that all the time!” Yet as the words left my mouth, I realized how untrue they really were. I haven’t been stepping out nearly as much as I thought. I’ve been clinging to what’s safe. To the familiar. To the old routines and old relationships, instead of bravely building new ones.

News flash: I will most likely fail at something—or maybe at many things.
But staying still, staying small, staying safe, won’t protect me. It will just keep me from growth.

The thoughts that hold me captive—the ones that say I’m not enough—are lies that need to be rebuked and replaced.
Instead, I should be speaking life over myself:

“You can do this.”
“You are enough.”
“You are beautiful.”
“You may fail, but you’ll learn.”
“You are loved.”

These are the words I need to weave into my soul until they settle into my heart as truth.

The funny thing is, it’s always been easier to speak truth and encouragement over other women than it is to speak it over myself. But that changes now. My challenge during this season of transition is to remind myself—daily—that I am brave, confident, and capable. Fear does not get to tell my story.

And you, reader, are brave.
You are confident.
You are enough.
You were created with purpose.
Yes, you might fail. But don’t let the fear of failure keep you from stepping out into the world.
You are deeply, undeniably loved.

Holding space for heavy moments

Posted on by fearlessatheart

Sometimes something happens to us and we don’t think we are enough. We don’t think that we are worthy of the good things in our life. When those dark clouds come, it is vitally important that you have people in your life that remind you that you are worth it-you are worth the extra baggage that you have because of some traumatic experience that you did not choose. You didn’t choose this life of chronic pain, of questioning everything, and of wondering if you aren’t good enough.

Let me tell you this. I’ve been there. I know the depths.The moments that you don’t want to be here-or you think that you’d be okay if you weren’t. Those dark clouds can be pretty heavy at times-I know that, you know that. Or maybe you don’t know that-I am really glad you don’t-but try to understand why someone would feel that way.Please try.

Yesterday was World Kindness Day. 

Kindness is free. Kindness costs you nothing, but it could mean the world to someone.

Be kind.

That’s the bottom line. You have no idea what people are going through , but your smile, and your kind words could be the life line someone needs.

Depression doesn’t play favorites. It can affect those of us who have traumatic experiences or those of us who have picturesque childhoods. It doesn’t play favorites and we shouldn’t expect it to. We should be checking in on all our friends-even the “happy” ones. 

I can tell you for a fact that I was severely depressed about my situation 8 years ago, but I’m pretty positive that others couldn’t tell because I knew all the right things to say. I knew how to pretend to be ok, when inside my world was falling apart. I was nowhere near where I wanted to be-but I had come so far since the accident. I lost hope.

Things must be really dire when one loses hope. But I am very lucky that I have people in my corner that notice things like that. One such person in my life called me out-he noticed that I wasn’t putting in the effort that I did before. He called me out on the fact that I seemed to have lost my will to fight. 

That got me thinking-who am I to let the dark cloud win-even subtly. What if I couldn’t do everything that my heart had planned-plans change. That challenge saved my future because I didn’t want to let the trauma win. I don’t know where the future leads but I do know that I’m just here along for the ride.

Now I do not know what your story is, but I do know that you are not reading my thoughts by accident. I’ve been to the depths, so if you need to talk about it, I’m here. I will never think less of anyone for the dark clouds, but I’ll continue to look for the glimmers-in your life and mine. I’ve been there. I survived. And you don’t have to walk it alone.

The Unseen Gifts of Rest: Lessons Learned from a Broken Foot

Posted on by fearlessatheart

It has been over two months since I broke my foot. This season has been so hard but also refreshing at times. Honestly, before the incident, I was going through the motions of life-feeling overdrawn from life. Don’t hear what I’m not saying. I love everything that I’m doing and it will pay off in the end but my soul was kind of exhausted.

Now, I’m not recommending that you break your foot to avoid burnout, but God met me here and refreshed my soul. This season reminded me that I am important. As a person in a caregiving profession, I can make that a part of my identity. Caregiving is a natural part of who I am as an eldest daughter. This season has been challenging to say the least because I’m not used to being the one dependent on others. Not that it’s all been bad, but I don’t like being dependent. I’ve gotten to spend more time with my husband and son. I’ve been able to give myself the rest I need to be able to be my best.

I think that’s one of the things that I’ve learned from this season. In order to do my best-do my best-I need to love myself. I need to care for myself the same way that I would care for my patients. This has been hard. I’ve found myself going into a dark place more and more often because it does not seem like life will ever go back to normal. Then, I remind myself about the good things about this season. I have been able to pour a lot into my internship and my education.

Honestly, it’s really hard to look at the positives of this season as I woke up and my leg was hurting a lot more than it did yesterday. Life appears to be moving on without me. I find myself being jealous of people that appear to have more than I do in this season. But that’s wrong of me.

I was  reminded in my devotions of the need to trust God. Being discontent undermines my trust in the Lord. I say I trust him, but I think he could have done his job better. I was challenges this morning about changing my attitude on focusing on what I can do rather than on focusing on what I can’t. I get to stay home with Atlas playing dinosaurs. I get to take rest breaks without judgement because I need to heal. I get to slow down and see-like really see-people in my life and spend quality time with them.

Overall, this season has taught me the skill of slowing down (I thought I had learned this) and the value of slow living. It also taught me (more so) the value of being selective with my energy. This allows me to be wholly present and give people my full attention and energy. It allows me to love better and care more.

When God is not afraid of emotions but people are

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When things aren’t going well, people like to pretend they are. Honestly, most people ask you how you are doing, but do not want to hear the honest answer, “Life stinks. Honestly, I’m depressed.” It shatters the illusion that everything is good. Or at least it seems that way, when they are taken aback by your honesty. 

Social media plays into this mentality by showing us the perfect aspects of life-the perfect moments frozen in time before life happens again.

There are good things in the chaos, but it’s okay to admit that this situation stinks and God is good. Both things can be true and both feelings can be valid.

A wise woman told me that it is okay to feel, but then we need to pull up our big girl panties and move forward. I keep learning this lesson.

I’ve been around this block before. And while I’m grateful for a lot of things, this season of a broken foot is really hard. I just want to be authentic-2 months of this is really hard. I hate being the center of attention but I’m pretty hard to miss with my boot AND my scooter. I hate relying on other people for basic needs. I can list several things about this season that stink and that’s okay. I’m not afraid of the dark clouds and the hardness of life. Life is hard. A broken foot is hard. It’s hard seeing others do the things that you can’t do. It’s okay to admit that. 

I think sometimes people want to fix what is broken or what they assume is broken, but really what people need is to be heard. The best friends are the ones that let you acknowledge the darkness, feel it, and then help you move on.

Life is hard. God is good. 

God isn’t afraid of emotion. He is not afraid of depression. The Psalms are filled with laments and praises. When Elijah was depressed, God didn’t yell at him, but rather sent comfort in the form of shelter, rest and nutrition.

He meets us where we are, but He doesn’t want us to stay there.

I’ll admit that this week has been hard. It’s been two months since I broke my foot and a month since surgery. I’m almost there, wherever there is, but it feels like it has been forever. I miss the sand between my toes, and the sun on my feet.

I also do not want to get my hopes up too much. Every appointment could be the one where my weight limit is changed, but on the other hand, it could be extended. I’m living in this limbo and that is super frustrating for a planner like me.

Every day is a good exercise of giving God control moment by moment. I guess that is the beauty of this season. Very few aspects of life right now require dependence on God. The bills are paid. The electricity is on. The water runs. We have food. We have shelter. Atlas and Sean are healthy. I am healthy besides my broken foot. I am really comfortable being self-sufficient, but God likes it when we are a little dependent on him. It’s not because He thinks we aren’t capable, but rather because He loves us. In a small way, I do things for Atlas. It doesn’t mean that I think he is incompetent, but rather because I love him and want the best for him.

In the same way, God wants the best for us and also, unlike me with Atlas, can do much more with us than we are able to do for ourselves.

In conclusion, I want you to know that it is okay for depression and gratitude to walk hand in hand. Honestly, gratitude helps the dark cloud to not get so big, but it is okay if life sucks but God is good. Also, I would encourage you to be honest with people when they ask you how you are doing. It’s actually refreshing not to have to spend that energy pretending everything is okay when it is not. At the same time, there is a time and a place for the full story. Maybe they don’t need the whole story of your depression, but it is okay to admit that you are not okay.

Living and Loving with a Brain Injury

Posted on by fearlessatheart

I’m going to be honest and vulnerable here and that terrifies me, but I hope that my words will help someone not feel alone in their chaos.

It has been almost 8 years since the worst day of my life-the day my life changed. Now don’t hear what I’m not saying. I really like the direction my life is heading right now, but I could live without the constant pain, increased self-consciousness, and occasional migraines.

That’s life now. I’ve had to adjust my expectations of how my day to day life will go. I need to get enough sleep, eat enough, manage my stress, and pace myself. Oftentimes, I’m very self-conscious of my deficits and wonder if people hold them against me. Honestly, sometimes I bring it up to explain why I’m so weird, just like I  often brought up living overseas when I moved back. I deal with a lot of insecurity and inadequacy from my brain injury.  For all intents and purposes, I’m healed. I’m a nurse, wife, mother, and student. I’m definitely not there yet, but I feel like I’m doing okay. On the other hand, I struggle with my limitations and feel like I have to prove myself that much more to show people that I have got it and that I’m smart even though my brain shuts down every so often.

The problem comes when I “forget” that I have a brain injury and try to go forward with life as a “typical” 30 year old. My brain injury has the final say in that I get a migraine for 24 hours during a big week. I forget that I’m not a typical 30 year old mom. I get overstimulated really fast and my brain can’t filter out anything. Then I get caught up in my brain and struggle because I feel like everyone is seeing the chaos that is going on in my head and ultimately judging me for it. 

If you are living with any kind of brain injury or are interacting with someone who is living with a brain injury, here are some tips that I have learned especially over the past month.

  1. Be patient: (with yourself and others). We are doing the best we can. Words sometimes get caught in our heads. If you give us time and space, we will find the words and are sometimes pretty eloquent. Be patient with yourself if you are living with a brain injury. You have overcome so much (stuff people can’t see) to get where you are. I promise that you are harder on yourself than other people are. You see and know everything that goes on in your head, while they only see the outward signs. Also, remember, “those who matter don’t care, and those who care don’t matter”- Dr. Seuss
  1. Give yourself (and others) freedom to be themselves. I don’t know about you but I think life would be pretty boring if everyone was exactly the same. Different is good. Normal is overrated. Everyone has their own brand of normal and that’s okay. You do not know what is going through someone’s head at any given moment. Maybe that look that you spot that makes you feel like they are judging you for something, you have it wrong. Maybe people are laughing at you, maybe they are not. Be you and be you bravely. 

This are just a few thoughts from the last couple of months as I wrestle with almost 8 years of living with a brain injury. Now I feel like I have to clarify, I don’t want this to feel like I’m feeling sorry for myself. I like my life. Do I want anyone to go through this? No. But if talking about this and some of the struggles that I experience helps someone else, then it is worth it. Here is my final thought. Simply be kind. You don’t know what demons people have or are wrestling with

Halfway through 30

Posted on by fearlessatheart

30 years. A new decade.

My 20s were full of life and hardship as I graduated college, became a nurse, shattered my body, and rebuilt my life.

I thought 30 would be a whole lot different than it is right now, but I wouldn’t have it any different.

I’m not where I thought I would be, but I have so much more. I think that’s life.

Maybe you are one of the lucky ones that life has gone entirely like you planned, I am so happy for you!

But maybe, life has thrown you some curveballs and you are not sure that you are okay with it.

I’ve been there. I get it. Life is tough sometimes, but even in that, life is sweet. 

You are probably thinking, “She’s crazy.”

Maybe I am, but I’ve learned in my short life, that there are sweet things in the middle of chaos.

Now don’t hear what I’m not saying. I’m not saying that it’s not hard-whatever your hard is-but I’m saying that sometimes wildflowers grow.

I’m 30. I have lived a lot of life in the past 30 years, but it has made me the person I am today. It sounds cliche but the hardest years of my life made me better than who I would have been.

I feel SO much.

I love hard.

It’s really hard for me to let go of things and people.

I understand what it’s like to claw your way back from nothing. 

I get it. Life is hard, but as I was reflecting I realized that while life is different than I thought it would be in my 30s, it’s more.

More love.

More empathy.

More peace.

More space.

More grounded.

I don’t know what my 30s hold, but I hope it’s full of more Jesus.

I don’t know where you are in life, but I hope you look for the wildflowers growing in the midst of your hard. Life is hard but holy. Remember that. There is holy in the ordinary.

One year of new adventures

Posted on by fearlessatheart

I have not written a blog in a while. Life has just been a little crazy with parenting, working, and school work.

Some may call me crazy for doing all of that. Honestly, sometimes I think that I’m crazy. I couldn’t do any of it without a supportive husband that wants to help me pursue my dreams and family close by that help pick up my slack. This year has been a growing year as I figure out how to be a good mom, wife, student and employee.

Here are just some of my thoughts as I muse and reflect on this past year.

  1. It’s not a weakness to need help especially if it allows you to still be you. Let me explain that. There is absolutely no way that I can do everything that I am doing if it was only me. The only way that I have stayed sane-alright semi sane-is because I have let others help take care of Atlas. Either they have offered, or I have asked Grandparents to help. 
  2. Make the little moments matter. Being a full time parent is hard, don’t hear what I’m not saying. But being a working mom is a different kind of hard. It’s missing out on something, or simply feeling like you’re missing out on everything. It is harder because I work 12 hour shifts. I typically leave before Atlas wakes up and sometimes even get home after he goes to bed. I don’t regret anything because Sean and I had lengthy conversations about this and I honestly probably would go stir crazy, but I didn’t realize how hard it would be to leave my heart. It helps that my husband stays home with him, but it still is hard. Since Atlas is on the move now, it is almost impossible to get him to sit still. On those rare occassions when he actually does want to snuggle, I hold on to those moments.
  3. Seeing the world through little eyes is one of the best ways to see the world. Atlas is very explorative and inquistitive. He wants to know how everything works, what everyone is doing, who everyone is, and everything that is going on. Nap times are a bear because he does not want to miss anything by going to sleep. It has been so much fun watching him discover things and find his personality. I already knew when he was in the womb that he was going to be a firecracker and keep us on our toes, but little did we know. He has relatively no fear. I hope he never loses that.
  4. Rest when you can, work when you must. So life is a little crazy and chaotic, but I still have a brain injury so I NEED to rest more often. Every mom needs to rest and incorporate rest into her schedule. I have worked scheduled rest times into my schedule. It might look like getting up early to work on school so I can take a nap when Atlas does, or taking a slow day off after I worked two days in a row. Whatever it looks like, rest is a necessity if I want to keep going.

These are just a few of my thoughts on this growing year. 2024 is going to be so much fun as I expand my horizons and Atlas discovers the world-the hard and the holy.