When my brain came alive.

My counselor told me at one of our very first appointments, "trauma is what makes your brain come alive."

It made absolute sense to me.

My first memories aren't ones of sweetness or happiness. My first memory is of pain. Of abandonment. Of abuse.

But it's a weird thing - trauma. You see, oftentimes, trauma happens and then is never spoken of again. But it is thought of...all the time. And when you're a young girl, your brain goes back to those memories over and over again.

Vivid details are still there, but wait...did that happen or did that happen?

And instead of processing or discussing out loud with someone, you try your hardest to remember. You try to fit all the pieces of the puzzle together, but you're not really sure what the puzzle picture is actually supposed to look like...

Things I remember: 
I remember a pop up tent on top of my bed. I remember a beer can. I remember Barbie dolls. And chairs being pushed around. And blue lights. A screened door. Was it my birthday? Maybe?

I would think of that night over and over again as a young girl.
WHAT HAPPENED? 
Some things are too deep, too dark for a little girl.

Ping.  
And my brain came alive. 

From then on, that faint memory would follow me for the rest of my life.
Something bad would happen...PING. I could remember every detail. My brain was ready - ready for the next attack.

My brain and me, we would know what to do the next time.

And what followed were years of ping.ping.ping.
I couldn't let any of the trauma go.
I couldn't process it.
I couldn't move on.

It just stayed there, ready to pop open at any moment's notice.
And this is how I lived my life until I was nearly 30 years old.

I'll never forget the moment a bottle of red nail polish broke on a hotel bathroom floor in Tybee Island, Georgia.
It looked like there was blood everywhere. 

And right then and there, I broke like that bottle.

I spilled out onto the floor of that hotel bathroom. Every traumatic memory was ready. It was like they had been waiting for that moment for my entire life. It was the first time in my life I couldn't control anything that was coming out of my mouth or my body. My mom and my little toddler Annie Lou stood there, watching me...not sure what to do or how to help.

I have little recollection of what happened next. It's a blur, but something shifted after that day. No longer would those traumatic memories sit below the surface, hidden out of sight.

Oh no, now they were exposed, ready to be seen AND heard.

A spill happens at the breakfast table. A bottle of water pours out. A stack of toys fall. Something goes wrong. My Annie Lou trips and falls.

And there I am again. Broken, pouring out with no way of stopping or slowing it down.

Until I speak of these occurrences with my counselor, they happen almost daily. We talk about a processing exercise called EMDR (eye movement desensitization and reprocessing), and there is hope. I have gone through countless EMDR exercises to process some of the most traumatic moments in my life.

And it's not easy. In my own experience(s), in order for me to receive the healing, I had to feel it all again. The hurt. The pain. The unknown. Feel it all. 

And then put it away.

My brain (and my heart) had to learn to LET IT GO. 
I'm still working on the heart part.

I am unsure why I feel lead to share all of this, but I know that this was a stronghold in my life for a long, long time. The enemy used these experiences to keep me in the past -- and however in the world could I move forward if I have one foot in the past?

I'll tell you the answer: I didn't move forward.
I let those experiences build walls around my heart. I let those experiences tell me lies. I let those experiences keep me from experiencing true freedom that can only be found in Jesus Christ.

Now when I think about that red bottle of nail polish breaking, I think about Jesus. I think about how He is with me always. I think about how He was with me in that little pop up tent on my bed. I think about how He held my hand as I watched my dad be taken away in a police car. I think about how He sat with me in a small office with my counselor as I walked through those valleys again. I think about how He took those memories...the trauma, and He PUT IT AWAY.

It wasn't me. It wasn't some fancy therapy.
It was Jesus. 

Life is full of hurt, disappointment, anger, trauma...and if we are not careful, our life will be one marked by and lived in hurt, disappointment, anger and trauma. It takes work to leave the past in the past. But this is a life worth living in the moment of TODAY, not in the troubles of yesterday. Take that messy slate, full of marks and let him wipe it clean. Wake up tomorrow, live in just that day, and then do it all over again. 

 

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” 

Philippians 4:6-7

 all my best and many blessings,
Lena

*I am in no way an expert on trauma - this is just a re-telling of my own story.

Walking through grief.

G R I E F.

What a word full of so much meaning.  When I first look at it or say it or think about it, it doesn’t bring about many lovely feelings or emotions.

In fact, it kind of makes my stomach turn.

None of us want to experience grief.  None of us wish we could lose someone or something and walk through a season of grief.

Grief…well, it’s kind of an unwanted guest.

And most of us have no idea how to walk through a season of grief.  We wash our hands of it.  We put it on the calendar for another day and then continue to push it out further and further.  We wish it away and pretend like it’s not really there.

Well, my friends.  I’m walking through a season of grief right now.  And it’s about someone I don’t know.

I’m grieving my father. 
I didn’t know my father at all.  I have no real memories of him.  And he died almost 17 years ago.

At first, I had no idea what it was — why was I crying at the drop of hat when I thought about him?  Why was I wishing things were different?  What were all these feelings?

You see, in my past years of looking at my father’s life and our relationship, all I could feel or express was ANGER.  Bitterness.  Resentment.
It took a lot of reflection with my Heavenly Father to realize my father was a man.  He made mistakes.  He didn’t always choose wisely. 

And slowly, but surely, the lens of anger that I viewed my father turned into a lens of grace.

This is where everything started to change.

For the first time in my life, I let my Heavenly Father come into my heart and fill those cracks and breaks and holes that have been there since I was a little girl. 

And for the first time in my life, I am beginning to be set free of a broken heart.

It took so many steps - steps of faith - to be able to get to this place.  I had to let go of myself and grab a hold of something greater.  I had to relinquish control so there could be a place for forgiveness.  I had to quit holding on to anger and let love take its place.

I know there are many of you out there who have been hurt — by your dad, by your mom, by your best friend, by your husband…and I know that hurt.  In some ways it almost feels easier to walk around being mad, holding on to hurt, keeping that wall around you — keeping you SAFE.

Letting go of anger comes with its own struggles, believe me, I know.

For a long time, it was just easier to embrace anger.

And then one day, it wasn’t. 

I don’t know how to describe it or why it happened this past year and not in 2002, it’s just the way it is for me.

I do believe being in a healthy and thriving relationship with my husband played a huge part in it.  I think feeling more safe and secure this past year than I have my entire life is a big piece of the puzzle.  And I think talking aloud with God, asking Him to reveal places where I was holding on to unforgiveness and anger…well, I think that played a part, too.

So, here I am.  A week away from turning 35.  Mourning two losses.

The loss of my father as a young girl from his absence in my life.
and…
The loss of my father at the age of 18 after he passed away.

It’s the ultimate picture of beauty from ashes.  It may not look beautiful from the outside, but it is so beautiful and so marvelous from the inside.  There is healing taking place — healing that is so needed and so wanted, and I am SO thankful.

Chase that white rabbit.

When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with the movie, Alice in Wonderland. 

My granny would take us every weekend to the local video store in Columbia, and we would get to pick a movie to rent. 

I always picked Alice in Wonderland. 
*fun fact…I picked it so many times, the owner actually gave it to me!
Something about that curious blonde girl just resonated with me.  Every single scene in that movie captivated me, and I couldn’t get enough.  Alice was just so BRAVE, and as a young girl, I was anything but brave. 

You know the story, she followed a white rabbit down a hole into a whole other world…she had tea with the Mad Hatter, sang songs with flowers in the garden, met crazy characters and had a scary encounter with the Queen of Hearts.  And she never really second guessed anything she did - she stood her ground, spoke loudly AND proudly and never apologized for how she was. 

Oh my word, she was so brave. 
And I wanted to be her.

Can I tell you a secret? I still want to be her.

Webster’s defines B R A V E as “having or showing mental or moral strength to face danger, fear or difficulty: having or showing courage.”

So, what’s the opposite of courage?
We all know it…F E A R.

For a large part of my life, I have let fear dictate my path. 
Will this hurt?
What will happen if _______?
How will I bounce back if it all goes wrong?
Will someone else get hurt?
Will it take too long or require too much of me?

Like I said, FEAR is the dictator.  Fear is in the driver’s seat.  Fear is calling the shots.

And I’ve passed up some opportunities or kept going one direction (when I should be going another way) or haven’t spoken up because I was simply too scared of what might happen.

Alice saw a white rabbit.  She was intrigued. She followed him. 
And adventure followed her.
She didn’t sit there and think: “hmmmmm….the probability of me getting stuck in some sort of situation and not being able to get out is quite high.  I think I’ll sit here and wait for that rabbit to come back.”

Nope, she went all in.

Gosh, I love her.

I see the same thing in my girls…like when Birdie fearlessly jumps into a deep pool of water with a HUGE smile on her face.   Or when Annie Lou enters the race at the skating rink — she’s only been skating without a trainer for a few weeks, and she is already racing, y’all.

Both of them know there are risks — they could get water up their noses.  Or they could fall during the race and lose. 

But they do it anyways. 

They let courage sit in the driver seat and decide the path.

When did I tell courage to get up and give the seat to fear?
Did it happen when I was little?  Is it something that I just got used to doing and just didn’t stop?  How can I make that little fear brat get up and give the seat back to courage?

I’ve been thinking a lot about bravery lately and how acting out of fear affects my daily living.  When my brain and thoughts started going towards fear, what prompted me to go that place? 

And what I realized is that fear is almost second nature to me. 
Fear is easy for me. 
Fear keeps me quiet. 
Fear keeps me second guessing. 
Fear blows everything out of proportion.   

I am not operating at my best, which is where God wants me to operate, when I am operating out of fear.  Fear means I’m not trusting God at His word.  Fear means I’m afraid I won’t be able to control the outcome. 

So I have literally had to take every.single.thought captive. 

I’ve had to take the scary, full of fear thoughts and speak them out loud to God.  “God, is this true? “  I’ve had to speak truth to those lies.  I’ve had to stop listening to some things that continue to fuel my fear fire.  And start listening MORE to those things that fuel my faith fire. 

Because at the end of the day, we KNOW He works all things for good, right?

Well if you don’t know that, I’m here to tell you…He works ALL THINGS for good.
Not just one thing.
Not just the pretty things.
Not just the easy things.
Nope, He works ALL THINGS for good.

I made a list of all the things I consider “bad” or “hard” that I have had to endure over the past couple of years.  Then I wrote the good things that have come from those experiences. 

If I just focused on that “bad” list, yes I could continue to operate out of fear because that list is SCARY.  But I’m choosing to focus on the GOOD…and see His faithfulness. 

Let’s be real….there are some hard things I’m experiencing right now and I can’t see the good yet.  BUT BUT BUT I know it’s there.  He knows it’s there.  And I’m choosing to trust what I can’t see yet…I’m choosing to trust His promise.

2019 is my full of JOY year…which means taking some steps towards courage and bravery and leaving fear behind.   Fear loves to rob you of your joy, and I’ve let that happen too much over the past couple of years.  So today, I’m adding a little fuel to your faith fire. 

Ask God where you are operating out of fear and ask Him to point you towards where you should be acting out of faith.  And then go do something brave because He’s equipped you to do it.  He’s put a desire and a dream in your heart…
Write that book. 
Start that podcast. 
Invite that friend. 
Quit that job and begin the one you really want to do. 
Chase that white rabbit.

And then wait for the adventure and blessing and testimony that will come from a Father who loves to see you grow and flourish and thrive and bloom.

“Would you tell me, please, which way I ought to go from here?”
“That depends a good deal on where you want to get to,” said the Cat.
“I don’t much care where—” said Alice.
“Then it doesn’t matter which way you go,” said the Cat.
“—so long as I get somewhere,” Alice added as an explanation.
“Oh, you’re sure to do that,” said the Cat, “if you only walk long enough.”

When I lost social media and found my JOY again.

Today is Day 16 of my fast from social media.

It still feels weird to me to say I'm fasting from social media.
FACEBOOK.
INSTAGRAM.

I have so many thoughts on this fast, and the many things that have been revealed to me by giving it up for a 3 week period.

First thought: I didn't think I was addicted to social media, and I was very wrong.  I don't use the word addicted lightly.  I have thought about this long and hard, and I can say with full confidence, that I was straight up addicted to social media.

Here's why I believe I was addicted...
- It was the first thing I checked as soon as my eyes opened in the morning.  Heck, sometimes when I awoke in the middle of the night, I would just pop in to see what I missed while I was sleeping. 

- It was what I used to fill my time. 

- I used it agressively and abundantly. 

- I longed for more LIKES on posts and pictures.  I felt AMAZING when those likes came through. 

- I felt jealous when I saw my friends doing awesome things or when I saw former co-workers succeeding and I was not.  

- I snapped at my kids because they bothered me when I was trying to put out a "really important post." 

- I scrolled mindlessly when I waited in school pick up lines, while I waited at restaurants, while I was riding in the car with my husband and/or family.

- I let social media fill my need for human connection and human interaction.

Social media filled a big space in my life.

And it took removing it from my life for an extended period of time to see just what an impact and hold it had on my life.

Many of you have asked how I feel without social media.  Well, let me tell you...
I feel amazing. 
I feel lighter. 
I feel more connected to myself and less connected to everything else around me.

My word for 2019 is JOY.

2018 was one of the best years of my life, but it was also one of the most challenging for myself.  I floated between so many different feelings, and stuffed a lot down.

In 2018, I forgot how to smile.  I forgot how to have fun.  I forgot how to find the beauty in everything around me.

And those things that I forgot to do affected my relationships with my husband and my kids, it affected my ability to mother well and it trickled down to affecting the people around me...those that mattered most: my family and my friends.

On January 2nd, I said out loud for the first time what I was missing and what I wanted so badly to come back into my life....JOY.  I decided that day to let go of social media.  And I decided to grab a hold of JOY.

It took a solid week before I stopped going to that spot where my facebook app sat on my phone.  I noticed that sometimes I just picked up my phone for no reason and went straight to that facebook placeholder. 

For absolutely no reason.
What in the heck was I looking for?

I found out that I actually DO have time to do the things I have been putting off because I "don't have time...." I read 3 books.  I organized my closet.  I connected with friends over lunch.  I had great conversations with my kids.  I worked out.  I made dinner almost every single night.  I laid in my bed and talked until midnight with my husband.  I made goals - simple and attainable goals and then came up with plans to achieve them.  I hiked and then hiked some more.  I opened my Bible and began reading again - and instead of going to facebook first thing in the morning, I go to my Bible app and take in His word before my feet even hit the ground.

THESE are things that bring me joy, y'all. 
Not mindless scrolling.  Or wasting time.  Or staying connected 24/7.

And by losing those things and spending time doing things that truly matter or things I REALLY love and enjoy, I found my smile again.

I will never forget when my husband said something funny to me and I turned around and smiled at him, and he said: "THERE YOU ARE.  I've missed that smile."  It still makes me cry thinking about that...but happy tears.

Or when Birdie was busy drawing portraits of her family like she does multiple times a day, and she was working particularly hard on one of me.  She yelled for me to come see it, and she beamed with pride when she showed it to me.  "I drew you wif a smile, mama!"  You see, she's always been drawing me with a straight line for a mouth.  And now she draws me with a smile. 

It felt like God was speaking directly to me through this tiny, smiley little 3 year old.

I really miss the connection of facebook and instagram -- I miss seeing my friends' posts and connecting with them quickly and easily.  It's forced me to be way more intentional about connecting with my friends -- I literally have no idea what's going on in their lives, so I have to ask for a lunch or coffee date and actually CATCH UP with them.  It's amazing and somewhat frustrating at the same time.

So what do I do now?

I am not really sure.  But I know that I feel too good to bring it all back into my life right now.  I know social media can be used for good, and I know lots of people use it wisely and for amazing things.  But right now, I am unsure of how Lena can do that. 

So for now, I'll keep doing what I've been doing for the past 3 weeks. 
And loving every single minute of it.

For those of you that do want to reach me, I am available via email:
lenahallwrites (at) gmail (dot) com

A half empty love tank.

When I was a little girl, my father left me.

I have fuzzy memories of him, bits and pieces I can barely recall. 

I am unsure of all the things that made him leave me, but I do know an alcohol addiction played a huge part. 

As a young girl, I felt like I was walking around with this giant piece missing from me. 

I didn’t even know my own dad. 

I didn’t know where he lived, and I didn’t know his phone number.

I didn’t know what he looked like or what his voice sounded like. 

Whenever we would travel, the first thing I did was pull the phone book out of the drawer in the hotel room and look up his name.  Maybe, just maybe, he lived here.  Maybe I would call him, and he would answer, and he would come running to me and take me in his arms and call me baby girl.  My mind would run wild with these dreams and visions of our reuniting. 

I searched and wished and longed for him.  I just knew so many of my problems and hurts would go away if he was just a part of my life. 

So from a very young age, I was broken. 

I tried to fill a half empty love tank with all sorts of things - things that weren’t necessarily unhealthy from the outside, but things that shaped me from a young age.

Striving for perfection was a big one.  I was the good kid.  I made good grades.  I read all the books.  I let other kids pick on me.  I was the teacher’s favorite.  I sat on the front row. 

Trying to be perfect was one way I dealt with a broken heart.  This is my go-to unhealthy way to deal with things even now as an adult.  If I couldn’t earn my own father’s love and affection, then by golly, I was going to win the affection of everyone around me. 

S T R I V I N G for love and attention to fill a broken heart.

When I feel like things are out of control in my life, well, that’s when I tend to gravitate towards that perfection drive.  My heart and my mind are running wild with all the hurt, chaos, brokenness, but you would never know it from the outside. 

After years of therapy and counseling, I can identify when things are moving towards the side of perfection and when I need to check myself.  But it creeps in every single day and tries to tell me that I am unworthy of love - that I must EARN it.

When I was 18 years old, I received a phone call from my father’s wife.  My dad was sick and dying and he wanted to meet me and my sister. 

My dream finally came true.

Expectations for that trip were beyond insane.  I thought something magical and beautiful would happen. 

But as you might guess, it didn’t.  My dad didn’t apologize.  He didn’t embrace me.  He didn’t say “Baby girl, I screwed up, but guess what?  I always loved you and I always, always will.” 

That trip was one of the most difficult and defining trips of my life.  And also one that I can’t recall much of (thanks, brain) — you see, my brain knew how traumatic this trip was for me and basically WIPED OUT every single picture or faint memory I have.  I couldn’t even tell you what my dad looked like. 

Two weeks later, he died.

And I still walk around with this MASSIVE hole in my heart.  It is a tender spot, one I don’t like to go to often because it hurts. 

The only way I can describe it is like this: it’s like I’ve been given this load to carry - the weight isn’t near as heavy as it used to feel, but it’s still something I carry every single day.  It’s woven into my life - my being - my story.  As much as I wish I could go back and change the story for myself, I can’t. 

There are days I feel like God gives me a glimpse into the reasons why I was given this load.  When I hold my darling Annie Lou, tears streaming down her face, because she misses her own dad, and I hold her sweet face and look her in the eyes and say with the most sincere and genuine heart: “I know.”  Because more than anyone else in this world, I really do understand and can empathize with her hurt.

Where am I now?

Well, I am on a journey right now with God.  I’m facing a lot of those hurts and pains that happened to me as a little girl.  I cry a LOT.  I am mourning something that I am sure what/if/how I should mourn, but I am mourning nonetheless.  And day by day, I’m learning to let my Heavenly Father come in and fill those empty places and hold the little girl that resides in my heart. 

To those of you that are walking around with a half-empty love tank, I see you.  You matter.  Your hurts matter.  It’s not silly or dumb to feel sad…just feel it and get on with it.  Get help.  Find a community of believers that can speak truth to your hurting heart and point you HOME to a truth that will leave you full of hope and joy. 

And then get on your knees and thank your Lord, your Heavenly Father, for never leaving you and always loving you.  No matter what. 




You're a good, good Father...thank you, Lord!

Embracing your season when you're not sure what season you're in...

I started this little blog as a way to get some thoughts out of my head and into a space.  Most of the posts remain unpublished.  The only eyes that have seen those words are my own.  And that is okay.

For the past 3 years, I have been through so many seasons.

Scary seasons.  Stormy seasons.  Calm seasons.  Quiet seasons.  Joyful seasons.  Absolutely wonderful seasons.

And through most of those seasons, I have been writing.

But then I stopped.

Let me see if I can explain the stirrings of my heart...

When I was a single mama, going through a divorce, raising two little ladies, I had much to say.  And people wanted to hear from me.  I didn't talk much about what was going on, but every now and then, once the healing reached a certain place for me, I'd talk about what was going on - in my head and my heart.  People would share with me how those words had touched them, or they were glad I was writing again, or maybe they had passed them on to a friend facing a similar road.  I felt like I had much to say AND an audience to listen.

In that season, I focused very little on the future.  I was so reliant and dependent on God.  I could barely get out of the bed before I would mutter the words: "Just today, Lord.  Just today. Nothing more." That was literally all I could handle -- that day.

I look at pictures from that season -- particularly of pregnant-with-Birdie Lena, full of growing life -- the fear and worry and doubt hidden deep in her eyes, almost impossible for me to see.  Instead, I see God in her.  I see a woman clinging to her Lord.  And it's absolutely beautiful to me.



So, what's different in this season?

For one, I am married again.  I have a partner, a best friend, a supporter and an encourager. And he's amazing if you don't know already.

I am so blissfully and deliriously happy -- seriously!

Because I spent so much time in a season of hurt and uneasiness, I am really unsure how to live in this abundant season.  I know, it sounds crazy as I type it out. 

These are the kinds of thoughts I have to myself and ones I oftentimes speak out loud when my dear husband asks me why I'm not writing anymore:
- No one wants to hear from a happy Lena. 
- I have nothing of value to say - I am just happy and blessed.
- I will probably just get on people's nerves because I have nothing to say but good things, and people aren't used to that from me.

These are all the crazy lies I hear and actually say out loud to myself.  So crazy, right?

The truth is, I am so happy and blessed.  But I have challenges all the same in this season as I did in previous seasons.  They are different challenges -- ones that don't feel nearly as overwhelming, but challenges all the same.

I am still dependent on my Lord, it just feels like it's a different kind of dependency.  Like in those 3 previous years, I was a newborn Lena, completely unable to do anything without her Lord.  And now, I'm an able-to-stand-and-feed-herself Lena - I still need my daily nourishment and daily time with the Lord - but I'm no longer a newborn.  There are days I miss those newborn days -- and I wish there was a way for me to verbalize how and why I miss those days, but I'm not sure how to do that right now.  That's a post for another day I guess.

So here I am in this weird place that just doesn't feel quite right to me, but I'm learning to be still and sit and just BE in a season.  Not freak out, not change everything, just be (this is Lena's typical routine when something feels off).  And in the process, I hope I will learn more and sit back and enjoy the shift that is happening in the meantime.

For now, here's to bringing writing back into my life and sharing those words with you, too.

When a day stings.

I have always been a memories gal. 

I love looking at old photos.  I have a box full of notes, old ticket stubs and movie tickets, certificates, essays, programs...pieces and mementos from different stages in my life.  I have a huge tote box full of almost every single piece of paper that Annie Lou has brought home from school.  I have plans to do something great with those papers...or maybe they will sit in a box. 

The point is, I'm sentimental.  BIG TIME.

You know timehop and "on this day" on facebook?  Well, I love those too.  Kind of like a little scrapbook of my "digital" memories. 

But some days, those pictures and memories...oh, do they sting.  If I'm honest, they do a lot more than sting.  Some days, they hurt me so hard I feel like I can't breathe or catch my breath.

Today was one of those hard days.  Today was meant to be a day to celebrate another year -- a chance to exchange presents and look at photos and think of a wonderfully beautiful day.  But it's not that kind of day today. 

Here's where I don't really know what to say. 

Do I say something was so broken, it couldn't be put back together?  Do I say I was too controlling?  Do I say I didn't do ______ enough?  WHAT DO I SAY?

I can't say anything.  I can't fix it or make it better.  I can't control this one.  

And so I do what I know how to do.  I cry.  I breathe.  I try to remember the day for what it was -- a beautiful day.  I thank God for my two girls.  I put the phone and computer away and try not to focus on the "what ifs" and instead think about the abundant and bountiful blessings that I do have in my life.  And I always remember that He works all things for good.  I sing my new song -- it may not have been the song I chose for myself, but I sing anyways.  I fall into His goodness and grace and let the rest go.