Sometimes, I feel as though I take “One Day at a Time” a little too literally. I go to the grocery store and buy only what I need for dinner tonight. I work out at the gym, walk my puppy, and track my spending as though today was the last day of my life and as though it was the first day of the rest of my life. It is both. And yet, I also want to connect today with tomorrow and a plausible game plan for my future reality. Stopping to think about where I might be this time next year often tilts my brain and sends me spiraling down a path of uncertainty and fear. I don’t need to worry about tomorrow. I just need to take care of what is directly in front of me. It’s good to have goals, to have a target at which to aim, but I also need to pay attention to the place I’m in now and the people who are right in front of me. It’s good to start the day with a quick review of my desired destination, a reminder of what track I’m on and where I’m heading for potential course corrections I might need to make. Then, I need to get on with my day, stay present in the present, and watch out for where I need to place my next step.

Growing up, I was never really taught how to do anything, except for how to kneed bread, which is an utterly useless skill when you have no desire to make bread. I also remember my maternal grandfather trying to teach me how to hold a pencil correctly. It didn’t take. My sisters tried teaching me how to snap my fingers. No such luck there either. I learned how to read and write and how to do math, including long division, at school. What I learned at home was mostly how to do what I was told without speaking up for myself and how to stay out of the way so I wouldn’t cause any problems. What I learned about love was how it masquerades as loss, worry, deception, and fear. The people who say they love you don’t actually care about you. They don’t encourage you to succeed in your areas of interest, only in what interests them. They don’t listen, they don’t empathize, and God forbid you ever expect them to give you the time of day when they’re busy doing something else, which is always. Therefore, I grew up believing that love was willing compliance to a set of arbitrary rules and surrendering my own voice, thoughts, and opinions to those of everyone else. However, what I learned was wrong. Blind submission is not love; it’s a sickness. Love is what Jesus models throughout the gospels. Love is stopping what you’re doing to pay attention to someone else. Love is having compassion on those who are grieving or infirm instead of judging them or brushing them aside. Love is asking what the other wants, not merely insisting on having your own way. Love is also paying attention, having compassion, and asking for clarity in regard to yourself. Self-love is the most important skill we need to learn, for once we learn to love ourselves, then it’s much easier to love others as well.

No wonder I’ve been so miserable lately. I keep saying that I want to serve God and to be a blessing, but then I spend all of my time whining about how God isn’t serving me. What’s up with that? I know from experience that the only way to have an awesome, joyful, fulfilling life is to keep myself focused on doing the best good that I can. My body knows what I need to do and when I need to do it. My body tells me when I need to work or rest, be social or alone, eat something lighter or heavier. My body also tells me how to handle my emotions. When I feel anger, I need to move my body vigorously. When I feel fear, I need to relax with deep breaths. When I feel sad, I need to give myself some physical affection and possibly allow for some crying time. When I feel happy, I can be still and soak in the moment. Life really isn’t that complicated, but I tend to want to fix whatever isn’t broken. I want to be the great choir director of life, and then I get upset with the cacophony of my own creation. I’m such a silly child sometimes.

As a theology major, I feel justified in claiming that most modern theology is based upon the intellectual rationalizations of old, white men. Apologetics, Christology, and Ecclesiology mostly irrelevant. Proving God exists is unnecessary. When God was asked directly, “Whom shall I say sent me?” God’s answer was “I Am.” No further explanation was needed. Explaining why Jesus has to suffer and die for our sins is also completely misguided. Jesus did not die to save us from our sins. God did not need to come to Earth as a man to bleed and die for us to be saved. Jesus died to become the ultimate #MeToo. You’ve been beaten? Me too. You’ve been broken? Me too. You’ve been betrayed? Me too. Jesus experienced the fullness of human suffering as a means of bearing witness to the fullness of human suffering. There is no pain we must endure that Jesus does not know experientially just as we do. And studies of the church do nothing more than place heavy burdens on our shoulders. There’s a mile-long list of musts and shoulds that an ever-increasing amount of people don’t want to do anymore. How did God tell us to be “The Church”? Love God, love people, and love ourselves. Period. That’s it. Others will know we’re Christians by our love. The Church is the gathering of believers for encouragement, support, and edification. Anything else is just extra. Therefore, my summation is: God is, Jesus knows, and we act according to what we believe. So, believe the best and behave accordingly.  

If you don’t want to suffer from imposter syndrome, don’t pretend to be someone you’re not. I got to experience an in-your-face situation today attending a chiropractic seminar in my sister’s stead. She went to chiropractic college for her doctorate straight from the local community college. I’ve attended school for twice as long as she ever did; and yet, I only have a master’s degree and not a doctorate, yet. She ran her own practice for several years, had multiple business ventures, and maintains her license to practice in two different states despite having a personal disability due to multiple pelvic surgeries. I’ve spent the past three decades fighting to survive through severe depression, multiple bouts of homelessness and unemployment, and frequent emotional flashbacks from complex PTSD. It was extremely difficult to grow up in the shadow of the athlete with straight A’s, but now, I’m so glad I don’t have to live in her shoes. Not only do they hurt my feet, but her life totally cramps my style. I prefer my life of freedom and integrity where I can huddle up by myself and write to my heart’s content on whatever form of paper happens to be available instead of hobnobbing with doctors and lawyers at a cold stadium, even though they do display a magnificent spread.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit defeated and spun up about my past. Nothing ever worked out for me or went the way I wanted it to. Every significant relationship has led to loss, and sometimes it seems too painful for me to bear. It’s definitely something I don’t want to have continue. I want to interrupt the patterns and bring good things into my life. I want to be able to help people and to feel proud of myself for radiating positivity into the world. So, I came up with a list of affirmations for myself. I started with a few things that are easy for me to believe. Then, I included the few things that feel absolutely impossible followed by the things that I want to be possible. I finish up with quickly repeating that pattern. Here’s my final list: “I am worthy of love and belonging. I deserve to have a beautiful, normal, stable life. Everything I put my hand to prospers. I am a winner. Money flows to me easily and freely. God has my back. God is for me. I am successful in everything I do. My life energy attracts good things into my life. Everyone I meet wants to help and support me. God gives me everything I need. I am abundant and overflowing. I am naturally gifted, and I continue to learn and grow my skills. I am happy, healthy, and whole.” I believe that if I remind myself of these statements every day, then I can transform my life for the better. Even if my circumstances never change, my perspective will. And a change in perspective changes everything.

The quality of one’s life is determined by the quality of one’s relationships. I blow past the Yellowstone, the Black Hills, Mount Rushmore. I’ve been there, done that. Whatever! Places, sights, natural or manmade, are all just places without someone to share them with. My favorite part of going to the Grand Canyon was hanging out with my daughter and her new puppy and chatting with everyone who stopped to pet the dog, even when they didn’t speak very much English. I’ve traveled the country; I’ve driven back and forth multiple times, but it all blurs together on me because the truck stops and rest areas all look the same. I’m there only out of necessity. There’s no juice in the journey, no advent in the adventure. I tend to just keep running without some intervention, someone to call me out and say, “Hey, look at this.”

I thought this time was going to be different. I thought that for once I would be able to slow down and enjoy the journey. I don’t know why I’m so obsessed with reaching the destination. Each new day presents myriad opportunities for adventure and exploring, and here I am, knees tucked up under the wheel, buckled down, and barely venturing from the interstate to empty my tank or to refuel my RV’s tank. I make excuses – gas is too expensive to do any extra driving. I rationalize – I’m already spending enough time driving to go anywhere out of the way. I must be the least curious person alive. Life has more in store for me than grass, trees, and pavement, and the occasional bundle of roadkill. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I want to experience it fully, but am I willing to go the extra mile?

I’ve been so lost for so much of my life that every step I manage to take forward still feels as though it’s taking me in the wrong direction. I’m trying to get home, to start over, but there’s another roadblock each day. If it’s not the disappointment of another person changing plans at the last minute or having to deal with someone else’s mistakes, it’s coming down with a cold again or getting a flat tire. I’m not asking for life to be all roses with no thorns; I just want to quit bleeding before my next injury. Is that really too much to ask? Maybe it’s unrealistic to expect the good things in life to out-weight the struggles, but it sure would be a nice change. I’ve heard that whatever you focus on gets magnified in your perception, so I’m trying to concentrate on what I appreciate and what I’m grateful for. But, when the shitstorm is raging, it’s hard to see anything good through the splatters. Therefore, I pray and I wait for the storm to pass. I cry, and I eat a lot of chocolate as I promise myself to do better once I feel better. Usually though, I have to start to do better before I begin to feel better. It often begins with reaching out to a fellow for me to be reminded that I’m the one who’s responsible for owning my life. I can improve my circumstances if I want to badly enough to do something about it.

One day shy of six months between entries is not too terrible for someone who is turning life upside down and shaking it profusely. Nothing is ever set in stone. Maybe I never learned the concept of object permanence as a baby. My brain still seems to think that if I can’t see it, then it doesn’t exist. And if it does exist somewhere, but I can’t find it, then what good does it do? I used to think that love didn’t exist. I didn’t know what love could look like. As far as I was concerned, love equaled pain. Everyone who ever said they loved me hurt me repeatedly, and I didn’t know how to navigate the disconnect between craving the care and sense of community that all human beings need and my experiential knowing that other people were to be avoided and feared. In order to overcome my loathing of others, I had to find safe places in which to experience foreign concepts such as safety, trust, empathy, etc, which is extremely difficult to do when ill-intent is subconsciously projected upon all homo sapiens. Difficult but possible. I was finally able to find a place full of other people who had been abused. They were so familiar with how it felt to be on the receiving end that they were not receptive of the “predator” label that my mind tried sticking to them. They were gentle, kind, welcoming, and accepting. I finally saw what love could look like for real. Now, I consciously attempt to project love onto everyone I meet instead of fear, and I only avoid those people who refuse to receive it.