Step by Step

I was double-checking that I had finished the requirements for my orientation. I opened the university’s online portal and saw a new link prominently displayed in the main toolbar. Classes start on Monday and the first of my three professors had just opened the link to his class.

I eagerly clicked the link, found the syllabus, and started reading. A very ambitious semester packed the document with assignments, forums, papers, and requirements. Words and phrases I feel only tangentially familiar with loomed prominent, and the sheer amount of work felt like a punch.

Anxiety settled into the pit of my stomach as the realization that this was only one of three classes sank in. There will be no easing into this semester.

I am familiar with this anxiety. Any time I am set to try something particularly new or outside of my norm I am flooded with anxiety. Even when I am confident that the task will be easily navigated my stomach twists and knots until I am well and truly in the middle of doing the task.

I know that this semester will be a challenge. The workload will be significant, and it will take serious adjustments to my regular habits and routines to accommodate the load. I will not always be successful at this, but I am sure that I will accomplish what needs to be done.

Still, there is that lead weight of anxiety hanging in my gut. I am eager to get started so that I can forget my anxiety in the process of simply doing the task.

I did realize something while reading over the course requirements. As I read the reading expectations due to be completed by Monday, I noticed that I have been tasked with familiarizing myself with the topics and themes of the last two years’ worth of a specific journal’s articles, reading half of a book, and two separate articles in full.

It rather suddenly occurred to me that maintaining an article a day on this site might be overly ambitious. While I do not plan on giving up that goal yet, I want to be honest about the reality that the frequency may drop or become inconsistent while I am adjusting to new routines.

Too often, when we look at the big picture, things seem too big and overwhelming. We feel dwarfed by circumstances beyond our control and can become crippled by anxiety. I believe this is the beautiful genius of Jesus’ words in Matthew 6:34, “Therefore do not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself. Sufficient for the day is its own trouble.” (Matthew 6:34 ESV – Bible Gateway)

We function best when we focus on what each day brings. Trying to account for days ahead causes anxiety and worry that we can not truly satisfy because we do not know what the future holds. Rather, God gives us grace sufficient for each day (Lamentations 3:22-24 ESV – Bible Gateway).

We do our best walking when it is step by step.

When I was a young teenager running around the Appalachian woods with my brother and best friend we would often come across ravines and creeks that we wanted to cross. I would fastidiously find and feel-out each foothold as I stepped from rock to rock or outcropping to outcropping.

Yes, I needed a plan for getting across. I would scan the creek bed and identify an area with rocks close enough to use to cross and I would assess the overall safety of the spot. After the initial assessment, I put my full attention on each step. Every time you looked several steps ahead the rock you were on would tilt, shift, or wobble and threaten to deposit you in the icy mountain water.

This semester each assignment is one step, one rock that must be worried about in its own time. I will do my best to follow the plan (syllabus) but my attention will be on each step of the process. That includes actively pursuing balance in the rest of my life.

Thankfully, anxiety is often lost in the process and God shows himself faithful at every step.

If your life is beginning to look like the syllabus of my class, overloaded and overwhelming, remember that all you must answer for is accomplishing the next correct step in the process. You don’t have to cross the chasm in one running leap, just take it step by step.

Subtle Music

The soft pat of sneakers on the blacktop played across the breeze. The heavy-laden grey sky felt like the lid of a closed container. The morning air was cool and quiet. I nearly stopped mid-stride outside of the east-town Wal-Mart struck by the music of the moment. I shook my head and launched back into my shopping trip. I still had cooking, cleaning, unpacking, phone calls, and errands on the to-do list.

In the last two weeks, I have moved states and traveled back for Thanksgiving. The days seem to rush by in fits and bursts. I still don’t feel like I have caught up or recuperated. I’m tired.

While driving home, my kiddos were in the back seat, and we listened to an audiobook. Off and on throughout the book tears welled up in my eyes. It was not a particularly moving book, sometimes the parts were completely mundane, and others were humorous, or poignant. The emotions did not always seem directly connected with the narrative.

During the family Thanksgiving, there were entirely innocuous moments when I would be suddenly so annoyed or irritated, I felt full of anger and wanted to lash out. Sometimes I simply felt exhausted and ready to go home. Then again, at times I just wanted more time spent with my family, quality time.

Since moving back to Tennessee, I have found it even more difficult to be away from my kids. I see them twice as much and struggle twice as hard when they aren’t here. At times, I have found myself just staring at them while they play a game or eat their food and smiling. When they aren’t here it feels like my heart is somewhere else and I am living on the memory of a heartbeat.

My new electric percolator is supposed to be here by Wednesday. I find myself getting excited about its arrival and the opportunity to make a rich cup of hot coffee.

These past couple of weeks have taken the resilience I’ve built up or the past year and nearly drained it dry. My emotions are a wreck, my thinking feels slow, and I am twitching with greater frequency. I have a list of things to do and all I want to do is hold my kids and sleep.

The house is coming together, slowly but surely. In my living room right now are two laundry baskets, not full, but not empty either. Two boxes left to be unpacked. A desk that needs to be unpacked and organized and a pile of boxes to be thrown out.

Right now, however, I make time to write, and I can smile.

Each day I have packed my kid’s lunch I have included a note and a special surprise. Today’s item was a single Pokémon card from a small booster pack. Tomorrow’s will be a pair of Christmas theme erasers, one for them and one to share with a friend. Last week my son told me that his friends have started to gather around him as he opens his lunch box to see what he gets.

I glance at the staircase and the pictures of my smiling kiddos beside their little footprints. In this beautiful silence, I can breathe. I remember that my kids are the reason I am here. When dark thoughts of self-harm threaten to rear its head, my kids anchor me here.

Sometimes life feels hard. Stress seems to rip at my skin and drive me crazy. My brain just starts to buzz and the pressure makes me feel like I am going to explode. However, when I let myself reflect quietly things change. Purpose and perspective come into focus. Joy and balance begin to return.

Writing is one of the key ways I make time for quiet reflection. I have missed it over the past two weeks of chaotic activity and stress. It helps me to process, slow down, and to be more aware of how I am feeling and what I am experiencing in the moment.

Escapism like shows, games, music, and social media can be a survival skill designed to help us cope with and power through stressful times and circumstances. They do not, however, help us thrive. Thriving requires the ability to think, to be grounded in the moment, and to process what you have going on. Thriving comes with perspective and balance.

Thriving is hearing soft footfalls outside of a Walmart at 8 in the morning and allowing yourself to enjoy and appreciate the subtle music of the “everyday” for a few moments instead of rushing headlong into your next thing to do.

What do you do to help you move from surviving to thriving? How do you remain grounded and balanced? What helps you to process, appreciate, and practice self-care?

200lbs

My eating had been out of control. I had been snacking, eating more, and not sticking to my eating guidelines. My exercise routine had slipped, the seizure episodes had me in bed, and I knew I was gaining weight. I was failing and putting fat back on. I was never going to reach my goals, look fit, or get in shape.

My heart thumped low in my chest as I stepped onto the scale. The hateful red needled bounced back and forth between the 199 and 200lbs line. I blinked my eyes, shook my body a little, and waited for the needle to resettle; 199-200lbs.

I lost 5 more pounds?

I find myself in a cycle, maybe it is familiar to you. I feel unable to see or feel the weight I have lost. I am down 165lbs from a year and a half ago, yet when I look down, I see and feel like the same old me. I can not remember a time when I weighed so little, yet I still feel fat.

I asked my therapist about this issue, “Every three or four weeks I start to become convinced that I am gaining weight. I feel fat and out of control but when I weigh myself, I have actually lost more weight! This cannot be healthy, right?”

I will not burden you with the lengthy conversation that followed but allow me to summarize some of the highlights. An inability to see or feel your own progress is common. The panic over losing control is likely related to allowing yourself to loosen your control from time to time and feeling guilty over it. It is important to remind yourself of how far you have come, how much progress you have made, and the reality of where you are today.

She told me to stop avoiding looking in mirrors, suggested printing out pictures of me before the weight loss and posting them on the mirror, and suggested keeping an old pair of pants to put on occasionally.

The trick is to physically see the progress. I need to retrain my brain to recognize how far I have come.

Just as important, however, is to train my brain to see what I actually look like now. This is an uncomfortable task for me. I have never cared for how I look and have never been satisfied with my body, so I have never been much of a “selfie” guy.

The prospect of looking at my body and not only seeing what needs to improve is difficult to imagine. I think that there will always be things to improve on, and to a point that is a healthy reality, but it should not prevent you from seeing the positive that is already there.

So, I need reminders. Reminders of progress like old photos, old clothes, and the like. Reminders to see what I really look like? Those are more difficult.

Dressing up, looking at myself in the mirror, and weight training all work to help change my mental image to reflect more of what I really look like.

These are intentional decisions that I must make to battle my brain’s habit of seeing me the way I was before. They are little things I can do to remind myself daily that I am making progress and things are improving.

As I said before, this is not an uncommon problem. People have a hard time seeing the change in themselves. We get a picture of ourselves stuck in our minds and it is hard to change that picture.

We can change physically, our attitudes can change, our outlook, and even aspects of our personalities. Many of us work every day to change unhealthy thought patterns, habits, and behaviors for the sake of our physical and mental health.

All these can happen gradually, resulting in major progress that we struggle to see or feel. It is easy to get discouraged and give up on a hard process when we fail to see the beneficial results. We can even develop new unhealthy patterns in response.

It is vital that we give ourselves consistent and effective reminders of our progress.

Have you suffered from severe depression and have been putting in the time and work to get better? What reminders have you set up to point out and measure your progress? Did you make it through an entire weekend without intrusive thoughts, self-harm ideations, bedridden days, or panic attacks? That is progress! Take note, celebrate it, and remind yourself.

Your brain had years to establish a sense of who you were before, it is going to take intentional time and effort for it to learn who you are becoming.

We must also see clearly where we are today.

We want a real picture of where you are. Yes, you want to see how skinny, healthy, happy, or stable you are, but you also want to see the work that still needs to be done. You need balance.

Life is a process.

The academic term for the life process for a Christian is “sanctification.”

Sanctification is the process of becoming more like Christ. God tells us that change is neither sudden nor one and done. Change is a process. It is a steady progression that will never end. With each passing day, month, and year we are transformed to be more like Jesus and there is always more room to grow.

The awareness of where we have been, where we are now, and where we are going is what makes up our life’s story. It is what allows us to know our place in that story and how to navigate the scenes unfolding around us. It is what gives us hope that God, who is the author and finisher of our story, knows what He is doing and will be faithful and just to see it to completion.

Do not let discouragement blind you to the progress you have made. Set reminders of where you’ve been and how far you have come, then celebrate your progress.

And remember, I’m proud of you.

Mount Le Conte

I was younger then. My cousin and uncle came down to the Knoxville area and asked me if I would go on a hike with them. Our target was Mt. Le Conte. I knew it had been some time since I had focused on physical training. I was in college and newly married, my time investments were spent elsewhere. Yet, it hadn’t been that long ago that I had been running daily and gone on other mountain ascending hikes, so I was fairly confident in my abilities.

Allow me to tell you a little about Mt. Le Conte that I did not know at the time. Mt. Le Conte is the third highest peak in the smokey mountain national park, however, from base to summit it is the tallest mountain east of the Rocky Mountains. From base, near Gatlinburg, to peak, you cover over 5000 feet of elevation gain.

I knew the hike would take most of the day and packed a lunch and water as needed as well as a camera. We started the hike at a level incline meandering through sun-dappled woods. The day was warm, but not hot, and we all carried extra clothing for the eventual cooler temperatures at the top. It was beautiful.

Hours later, as we skirted a rather thin part of the trail hugging one side of the mountain, I was having trouble identifying whether my lungs or legs burned more. By the time we reached the Inn located just shy of the peak, I was ready to collapse.

I had far overestimated my fitness for the hike.

We stopped for a bare handful of minutes before continuing to a small rock bald with unimpeded views stretching for miles. It was spectacular.

When I was learning to run, I was instructed to look down whenever I came to a hill. A large portion of running is the mental game and staring at a long incline seems to increase your awareness of the added difficulty of ascending the climb. Somehow, staring at the next few steps makes you far less aware of the climb.

That is the example I always think of when I hear someone say, “Just keep your head down and keep on…” Just figure out the next few steps and focus on the fundamentals, don’t look at the big picture, you’ll reach the top when you get there. It’s a mental game.

When we started down that trailhead, just outside of Gatlinburg, beautiful hardwoods stretched thick canopy all around us. The forest blocked our view of everything but the next short section of the trail. I am glad it did. I cannot imagine how much more difficult the climb would have been having I ever seen Mt. Le Conte from top to bottom all at once.

I might have cheated myself out of the experience of reaching the mountain top because of feeling intimidated by the immensity of the mountain in front of me.

I am no master wordsmith, and I hope my words are not too heavy-handed, but I am sure you can see where I am going with this. I have had a very full past couple of weeks, and I am staring at a massive mountain in front of me.

Yesterday my system was in so much shock that I failed to write anything. Today, I am attempting to remind myself that mountains in life, as with real ones, are ascended one step at a time. If you try to take in the entire climb at once, you could never figure out how to start.

Thankfully we don’t have to. God promises direction and wisdom. Isaiah 30:21 says, “And your ears shall hear a word behind you, saying, “This is the way, walk in it,” when you turn to the right or when you turn to the left.” (Isaiah 30 ESV)

We are tasked with keeping our eyes focused on the path in front of us and God will show us the trail to follow.

No matter the size of the mountain facing you in life, the path up is still traveled one step at a time. Trying to layout the entire journey before taking your first step will cause anxiety, stress, and disappointment. Trust and be patient with the process. Enjoy the scenery, tackle the adversity, and let the peak come when you get there.

I am sure the climb will be tough, but I am equally sure the experience at the top will be incredibly worth it. Allow me to leave you with a couple of other scriptures of encouragement and remember you are a mountain climber too.

Philippians 3:13-14, “forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus.”

Psalm 119:105 “Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path.”

Romans 8:37, “No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.”

Hebrews 12:2, “looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith”

Philippians 1:6, “And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.”