Unruly Recovery

I like Pinterest. I won't deny it. I like the ideas it gives me and the recipes I see and the escape from the monotony of my days sometimes. I like dreaming about this Christmas and what I could get my sister in law for her birthday and how on earth to decorate my odd-shaped living room that we've basically left untouched for a year and a half now. I like looking at cakes and nurseries and what to grill for the perfect summer barbecue. And I like the quotes. Well, let's get real honest.. I don't like a lot of the quotes. But the ones I like, I like, of course. Do I think Pinterest can be destructive? Yes, definitely. And has it been for me before? Of course. But like most technology things, it's pretty neutral. Whatever you make it. Sometimes, I get money hungry and want to tackle 19 DIY projects at once that no part of us can afford or want to accomplish and I forget to be content with the abundance we have. Sure. I do that. That's when I need to give it a rest. Get outside. Connect with others who keep me humble and grounded and authentic, grateful for exactly what we have. 

And then some days, Pinterest takes on another spin. Some vulnerable human being posts something real and true and it rings my bell in all the best kinds of ways. That's what happened with this post.



And then there's that moment. The moment where I have to make the vulnerable choice to either support or deny the way that picture got me. I can pin it and share or I can pretend it isn't the story of my life and move on. Or, I can do what I consider as the least vulnerable option in this scenario and put it on an all-too-embarrassed secret board. You know the ones I'm talking about. There's no need to call you or me out here!

So I made my choice. I re-pinned it. Because it's real. It's true. It's my story. And my guess is that it's probably yours too.

Recovery is a scary word. It's admitting that something is wrong or was wrong in a very deep way. Maybe it's recovery from a knee surgery like a friend of mine had recently. She wants to be at full capacity now, months later, able to run and play with no tweaks. But it's scary and hard and different now. Or maybe it's alcohol or drugs, a different kind of hard, but terrifying nonetheless. Or maybe you're a recovering gossip or a recovering jealous sister or recovering competitive friend. Maybe you're recovering from another miscarriage or the loss of a friend. Maybe you're recovering from a heartache where someone you love hurt you deeply. I'm here to say that each of those are certainly painful and certainly require healing, no one more or less real than another. 

Or maybe you're like me, recovering from a multitude of things: internal aches, heartbreaking anxiety or depression, struggles in faith, traumas and heartaches, and a sore throat as the cherry on top. Maybe you're like me in that you finally think you've made it, you're free, and then you stumble right back into the pit just when you think you couldn't possibly be THERE... AGAIN.

I'm not here to tell you it's easy. Healing rarely is. It's messy and icky and has so many turns along the way. 

What I know is this: I needed that Pinterest pin reminder this week. That I'm not in control of everything and recovery might not be as seamless as I demand. I might take two steps forward and five back and then one forward again. I might finally get on my feet just to fall back on my face again. I might get cocky and think I'm home-free and collapse, still unable to take on all that I think I want to take on.

I'll say this too. I hate admitting it. I hate admitting I'm weak and broken and need help time and time again. I'm a stubborn three year old at heart, just wanting to stand up tall and say, "I do it myself!" And though I love my spunk, I gotta admit.. There's probably something really sacred in needing to admit over and over that I need a Savior. 

So even on days where He feels far away, I cling to that truth. Admitting I'm weary and need a Savior opens up tremendously more room for Him to come do His work. And my recent weeks of resistance and complaining are certainly not helping the process.

So last weekend, I found myself mid-free fall again, almost on my face, covered in my own worst version of myself asking for grace for the journey. The healing journey. The recovery. 

And I invite you in to do the same. Not only does the recognition that we need Jesus change everything, but the recognition that we need each other does more for the soul than words can explain.

So here's my promise for the week: I'm going to lower my expectations for recovery. I'm going to choose to believe that it's okay if it's slow and trust that someone greater than me has me on the journey and won't let me fall. I'm going to make the vulnerable choice to be honest with myself, my therapist, my mentor, my friends, and even my Jesus that I need help and support for my recovery journey. And I'm going to enlist you all to do the same. 

And I must admit. It feels better than being "perfect" and bitter already. (Did I leave out that I was bitter before? Oops. Yeah, add recovering cynic to my list to.)

So tell me. What's healing like for you? Does your recovery arrow have as many twists and turns as mine?