Category: sadness

I Knew Who I Was Until My Life Changed

There are some changes you prepare for, and then there are changes that divide your life into before and after.

Losing my mom was one of those changes for me. When she died, I wasn’t only grieving the loss of my mother. Somewhere underneath the sadness was a question I didn’t know how to answer: Who am I going to be without my mom?

I had known myself as her daughter my entire life. She had been part of my understanding of family, strength, and even myself. Then suddenly, she wasn’t physically here anymore, and life expected me to keep going.

That’s one of the hardest things about loss and change. The world keeps moving even when something inside you has stopped.

I kept moving too.

Eventually, I graduated from chiropractic school with my Doctor of Chiropractic degree. That should have been one of the happiest and proudest moments of my life. I had worked hard for that degree. I had accomplished something significant. But my mom wasn’t there. I remember wishing I could see her sitting in the audience. More than anything, I wanted to hear her say, “I’m proud of you.”

And because she wasn’t there, part of that moment felt pointless.

That’s messy to admit because earning my doctorate wasn’t pointless. I know that. But grief doesn’t always care about what makes sense. Sometimes you can accomplish something you worked years to achieve and still feel the emptiness of the person who isn’t there to see it.

I think that’s something we misunderstand about uncertainty. We usually think uncertainty means not knowing what’s going to happen next. But sometimes uncertainty is much more personal.

Sometimes uncertainty sounds like: “I don’t know who I am anymore.”

Maybe the relationship ended. Maybe the career that once made you feel successful no longer fulfills you. Maybe your business is growing, but you’re exhausted from carrying it. Maybe you’ve accomplished what you thought would make you happy, yet success hasn’t given you the peace you expected.

Or maybe you’re the person everyone depends on—the provider, the leader, the responsible one—and privately you’re wondering who you are when you’re not taking care of everybody else.

Uncertainty has a way of exposing what we’ve been depending on for security, the roles we’ve confused with our identity, how much control we thought we had, and sometimes even what we really believe about God.

After my mom died, uncertainty exposed something in me.

I believed I had to step into her shoes.

I thought I had to take on the responsibilities she left behind. I believed I had to be strong because she had been strong.

But underneath all of that was something even deeper.

I thought I had to become her.

I was grieving who I lost while believing I had to become who I lost.

At the time, I thought I was doing what needed to be done. I thought being strong meant carrying the responsibility, keeping things moving, and becoming the person I believed everyone needed me to be.

Maybe you know something about that.

Sometimes life changes, and before we’ve even had time to process what happened, we’re already creating rules about who we have to become because of it.

I have to be strong.

I have to figure this out.

I can’t let everybody down.

I have to keep succeeding.

I should trust God more than this.

After a while, those thoughts don’t simply describe what we’re going through. They start shaping who we believe we have to be.

Then something changes, the familiar answers disappear, and we’re left asking:

“Who am I now?”

I wish I could tell you that I figured that out shortly after my mom died.

I didn’t.

It took years.

Years before I understood that honoring my mother didn’t require me to become my mother.

My mother helped me become who I am, but God never asked me to become her.

God used my mom to help get me here, but He still had a plan for me. My mother loved me, influenced me, and helped shape the woman I became.

But God created me to become Jeanine.

And when my mother died, God didn’t leave with her.

That realization didn’t erase my grief. It didn’t make me stop wishing she had been sitting in that audience when I received my degree. It didn’t suddenly answer every question I had.

But it began changing the way I understood uncertainty.

I started realizing that not knowing what comes next doesn’t mean God has left. Losing someone or something that helped define your life doesn’t mean you’ve lost who you are. And having your life change doesn’t mean God’s plan for you disappeared with the life you used to know.

Hebrews 13:5 reminds us, “Never will I leave you; never will I forsake you.”

I’ve had to learn what those words mean outside of the comfortable seasons.

Sometimes God’s presence doesn’t mean He prevents the loss.

Sometimes it means you discover that He is still there after the loss.

That changed my faith and how I understand identity.

The people we love, our relationships, careers, businesses, responsibilities, and accomplishments matter. But none of those things were designed to carry the full weight of telling us who we are.

Because life changes.

And sometimes the life we were certain we would have becomes a life we have to grieve.

That’s when the deeper work begins.

Instead of only asking, “What’s going to happen next?” I’ve learned that sometimes we need to ask:

“Who am I believing I have to become because my life changed?”

Maybe you’ve decided you have to become harder because someone hurt you. Maybe you believe you have to do everything yourself because someone left. Maybe you can’t slow down because people depend on you. Maybe you’ve decided starting over means you failed.

Those beliefs can quietly follow us into the next chapter of our lives.

Then there’s another question:

“Who is God asking me to become now?”

Not who does everybody else need you to be. Not who were you before everything changed. Not who do you think you should be by now.

Who are you becoming?

I’m still learning the answer to that question.

There are still times when uncertainty makes me uncomfortable. There are still moments when I’d rather know exactly what God is doing than trust Him without an explanation.

And I still wish my mom had been sitting in that audience.

I wish I could have seen her face.

I wish I could have heard her say, “I’m proud of you.”

Becoming who God created me to be doesn’t require me to pretend I don’t still want those things. Growth hasn’t erased my grief. I don’t think it’s supposed to.

But grief no longer tells me I have to become my mother in order to carry forward what she gave me.

My mother helped me become who I am, but God never asked me to become her.

God used her to help get me here. And when her part of my journey ended in a way I never wanted it to, God didn’t stop writing mine.

He was still there.

And He was still helping me become Jeanine.

My Traveling Friend, maybe your uncertainty isn’t only about what’s going to happen next. Maybe underneath everything that’s changing is a quieter question:

“Who am I going to be now?”

You don’t have to rush to answer it.

Maybe this season is inviting you to become aware of what you’ve been believing about yourself, acknowledge what you’ve lost, process what the change has brought up, accept what you cannot change, and begin taking intentional action toward the person God created you to be.

That’s the kind of deeper work we do inside the Confidence Mindset Program. I help individuals feel sure of themselves and live on purpose by teaching them how to change the way they think and partner with God to create the life they truly desire.

If uncertainty has left you questioning who you are, where you’re going, or who you’re becoming, schedule a consultation call at www.lifeisbutajourney.com to learn more about the Confidence Mindset Program.

You may not know exactly who you’ll be on the other side of this season.

I didn’t either.

But I’ve learned that when life changes, God doesn’t stop being God, and you don’t have to become someone else to survive what changed.

Sometimes uncertainty is where the familiar answers disappear, and you begin discovering who you are underneath them.

And sometimes it’s where you realize God was never asking you to replace what you lost.

He was still calling you to become who He created you to be.

Until next time, remember to Live Confidently on Purpose.

I Thought I Was Handling My Emotions… I Was Really Just Hiding Them

For a long time, I thought I was pretty good at handling my emotions. Something would hurt me, disappoint me, make me angry, or leave me confused, and I would do what I had learned to do: keep moving. I went to work. I handled my responsibilities. I took care of the people who depended on me. I prayed. I smiled. I got things done. And because I was still functioning, I convinced myself that I was okay. Looking back, I wasn’t processing my emotions. I was managing them well enough to keep functioning. There is a difference.

There were days when I would become irritated over something small, and my reaction didn’t match what had actually happened. Someone could say something the wrong way, plans could change, or one more thing could get added to my already-full plate, and suddenly I was frustrated. Then came the guilt. Why am I acting like this? Why is this bothering me so much? What’s wrong with me? So I would push the emotion back down, tell myself to get it together, and keep going. I didn’t realize that the frustration wasn’t always about what had just happened. Sometimes it was exhaustion. Sometimes it was disappointment. Sometimes it was hurt I had never dealt with. Sometimes I had spent so much time being strong for everybody else that I didn’t even know what I was feeling anymore.

And if I’m really honest, part of me was afraid to slow down and find out. I think I believed that if I acknowledged everything I was feeling, I might lose control. What if I started crying and couldn’t stop? What if admitting I was angry made me a bad person? What if I admitted I was still grieving something I thought I should have moved past by now? And there were some emotions I didn’t even want to admit to God. What would it say about my faith if I told Him I was disappointed? What would it say about me if I admitted that I was tired of waiting, tired of being strong, or confused about what He was doing? So I kept moving. I kept functioning. And I kept calling that strength.

But denying an emotion doesn’t make it disappear. I learned that eventually it will find somewhere else to go. It may show up as anger toward someone who didn’t cause the original hurt. It may look like lying awake at night replaying conversations in your head. It may become resentment, isolation, overthinking, or feeling completely exhausted even after you’ve rested. You might be doing well at work while quietly falling apart at home. You might be rebuilding your life and wondering why you’re still grieving what you lost. You might still believe in God while privately wrestling with disappointment, questions, or even anger toward Him. You can be productive and still be hurting. You can be moving forward and still be grieving. You can love God and still have emotions you don’t understand. None of those things automatically mean something is wrong with you. They may simply mean something inside you needs your attention.

I had to stop asking, “What’s wrong with me?” and start asking a different question: “What am I actually feeling?” That question sounds small, but it changed the way I began relating to myself and to God. Instead of immediately judging the anger, I could become curious about what was underneath it. Instead of telling myself I shouldn’t be sad anymore, I could acknowledge that something still hurt. Instead of pretending I wasn’t disappointed with God, I could invite Him into the disappointment. I began to understand that emotions aren’t always instructions telling me what to do. Sometimes they’re information showing me what needs to be acknowledged, understood, and processed.

That understanding made Psalm 139:23–24 deeply personal to me: “Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts.” David invited God into what was happening inside him, and I’ve learned to do the same. There are times when I have to ask the Holy Spirit, “Search my heart. Show me what’s really in here.” And sometimes what comes up isn’t pretty or comfortable. Sometimes it’s anger. Sometimes it’s fear. Sometimes it’s grief. Sometimes it’s disappointment I didn’t realize I was still carrying. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I realize the thing I’m reacting to today isn’t really about today at all. That’s messy. But life is messy, and healing doesn’t always happen in a straight line.

One principle I’ve learned through this process is that acknowledging an emotion doesn’t give it control; it gives you the awareness you need to process it. There’s a difference between saying, “I’m angry, so I’m going to act out of my anger,” and saying, “I’m angry. God, help me understand why.” One gives the emotion authority over your actions. The other creates space for awareness, wisdom, and choice. We don’t have to deny our emotions, and we don’t have to let them run our lives either. We can acknowledge them, process what they’re telling us, bring them before God, and then decide how we want to respond.

So here’s something you can practice today. Before you say, “I’m fine,” stop. Ask yourself, “What am I actually feeling right now?” Name one emotion without judging yourself for it. Then ask, “What might this emotion be trying to tell me?” Finally, invite God into the conversation: “Holy Spirit, help me understand what’s happening in my heart.” You don’t have to fix everything in that moment. You don’t even have to completely understand it yet. Awareness is a beginning. You can’t process what you keep pretending isn’t there.

Maybe you’ve become really good at functioning too. You’re dependable. People count on you. You keep showing up, even when you’re tired. Maybe you’ve started over and everybody thinks you should be excited about your new beginning, but there are still parts of your old life you’re grieving. Or maybe you love God deeply, but there are questions, disappointments, and emotions you’ve been afraid to bring into your relationship with Him. You’ve told yourself to move on, get over it, pray harder, stay positive, or keep going. But maybe you don’t need another reason to push harder. Maybe you need permission to finally acknowledge what’s actually happening inside you.

And if you’ve been managing your emotions just well enough to keep functioning but know something inside you needs to change, this is the kind of deeper work I help my clients begin inside the Confidence Mindset Program. I help people feel sure of themselves and live on purpose by teaching them how to change the way they think and partner with God to co-create the life they truly want. Together, we work on becoming aware of the thoughts and emotions underneath your patterns, acknowledging what’s really there, processing what you’ve been carrying, and learning healthier ways to move forward with God instead of continuing to bury what hurts.

You don’t have to wait until you fall apart to decide you want something different. Schedule your consultation call at www.lifeisbutajourney.com to learn more about working with me inside the Confidence Mindset Program. You have spent enough time surviving your emotions. It’s time to understand them, process them, and begin making intentional choices from a place of greater peace, confidence, and self-trust.

Live Confidently on Purpose.

My Weight Loss Journey: 504 Days-1 Year and 140 Days

Image result for pictures showing motivation

Image result for pictures showing motivation
       

I know that you all want to know how I have been doing since I ran my first 5k, and I have to say that I have not been doing so good with my journey.
For some reason I am mentally blocked with my workouts and my nutrition. The journey has become a chore mentally which has caused me to not want to do it anymore. So, I am finding myself eating foods that I know I should not eat, and I don’t care. But then I go to a Weight Watchers Meeting and I am up on my weight; and then I feel bad and guilty for eating the foods that I ate and for not working out which makes me want to just eat. But then I leave the meeting motivated to do better, but then I hear a voice telling me that I am never going to be able to lose the weight so why try. And the negative cycle continues. I have been feeling like this ever since I ran my 5k and I have not been able to shake it off. I am not sure what is going on with me and I am not sure why this is happening, but what I do know is that I like wearing smaller clothes, and I like being able to walk up the stairs at my complex and not get winded, and I really liked the fact that I ran a 5k. So, why have I been mentally blocked as it concerns my weight loss, and how do I get over it?

The last time I was this close to my weight loss goal I was in graduate school and I was so focused on health and being healthy that it was easy to go and workout, but then I joined the real world and my focus changed to paying bills, and becoming a grown-up. I now have a family to think about, and I want to be around a long time, so my focus is just wanting to be healthy, looking good is just a bonus. But lately my major focus (my family) has not been able to motivate me to want to stay on track, and I find myself not caring about my weight loss journey. It all just feels like a big, boring chore; it’s not fun anymore and I am not getting motivated by wearing smaller clothes, or getting compliments. What’s happening and how do I get over this obstacle, because I have come to far to just go back to how I was-depress, sad, really over weight, and just not healthy? Well, I don’t know the answer to my question but what I do know is that I plan to continue to go to my Weight Watchers meeting, tracking what I am eating, and working out, in spite of feeling like it is a chore. Maybe, just maybe, the motivation will come back and I will want to continue to workout and make better food choices and not feel like it is a chore.  

If anybody has any advice on how I can move pass this feeling I am open to suggestions, and if you are feeling the same way please know that you are not alone and it is a mental thing and we will get pass it and back on track, just don’t give up. I am telling myself the same thing too…https://www.blogger.com/blogger.g?blogID=5029725650024945545#editor/target=post;postID=3448776774907382198;onPublishedMenu=allposts;onClosedMenu=allposts;postNum=4;src=postname

Until next time……

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Grieving

The grieving process is something that never stops. It might get easier, but the process never stops. How do I know one may ask? Well, I am still grieving the death of my mother. Evia D. Spight died in 2004; week before her 61st birthday, and I am still going through the grieving process. I thought by now I would be done grieving, but it wasn’t until I had my son that I realized that the process never stops. I find myself going through different phases of grief. And the phase that I am currently in now is anger. I am very angry with my mother for not fighting harder to live.


The definition of grief is a deep and poignant distress caused by or as if by bereavement; it is a cause  of such suffering; or an unfortunate outcome. And believe me when I say I feel the definition of grief almost everyday, now. The first few weeks were very hard, but as time went on the pain of losing my mother eased some. But when I got married and my family, including my mother, was not there to see it hurt me and I was sad again and wondering why did my mother, my best friend have to died before she got to see me get married. Then the pain of her death arose again when I got pregnant, and again when I had my son, and again every time I look at my son.

I am not in the sad phase at this time, I am angry with her because she just gave up. Medically, I understood what was going on with her body and I was amazed at what she was going through because at that time I was learning about cancer and the damage it can cause to the patient’s body. But at the same time I was hoping that she would be okay and that she would fight harder to stay around, but she had enough of this world and gave up. And now I am here 8 years later still struggling to understand why, and still trying to make it from day to day without talking to my best friend. There are so many things that I want to say to her, and I wish that she could have been there when I got married, found out I was pregnant, and had my first child. I wish she could have gotten the chance to meet her grandson Lee, and her son-in-law Lee. But she didn’t get the chance to do any of it and that makes me so mad.

The reason for this blog is not to just share my story, but to also let you know that you are normal if you are still grieving someone or something. And to let you know that it is okay to feel those emotions. The one thing that I have learned through pray and attending church is that your emotions are ever changing and that you should not react to every emotion because chances are it will change soon. I have also learned that joy really comes in the morning, so just be patient because it really is a never ending process. Feel the emotion and let it go, and know that it is okay to have those feelings just know that they are ever changing. If you have a similar story please share. Until next time….