Positively (Im)perfect

Choosing Hope. When I found this article in one of my Endometriosis Facebook groups last week, I intended only to hit "share." But as I started writing words that I hoped would help others listen -- so that God willing, other women may be saved the same length and depth and breadth of unnecessary suffering as me--it was as if a dam broke open. 18 years of suffering poured forth into possibly the longest Facebook "status" I've ever shared. But for good reason. The more I learn along this journey, the more I understand that some information bears repeating. So I've copied both my words and the linked article here in hopes that it will more quickly ripple out to the women who so desperately need it. " Hear me loud and clear. Hear me through the 18 years—more than half my life—of suffering in pain so intense that even morphine barely took the edge off. Hear me as I echo every single word the woman who wrote this article has bravely shared .  ...

This post is a miracle you guys, because blogging in this season takes colossal effort. But I'm making it happen because I know if I don't, the Megan of next year will be so annoyed with the Megan of today. Future Megan: Thank you.   Current Megan: You'd better be grateful. Moving along... This was probably my worst reading year in recent history, but I'm okay with that, because #lifeyo. I'm in an Army course right now that's just shy of Master's-level in both time commitment and work load, so while I can indeed claim copious amounts of reading, only a small portion of that can be relegated to pleasure versus subjects that make me want to gouge my eyes out. (Granted, some of the leadership and military history stuff is mildly interesting, but it can't balance out the other 30 hours per week lost on things like government contracting and how a good idea fairy becomes a tank). Onward and upward! -- Happily, I wrote a historical fic...

I’m sitting here today in a different state than years past. I’ve begun so many new years with the assurances of a young and confident yet somewhat naive mind intent on turning over a new leaf. But this year, my mind feels older, quieter, tired and spent...yet also somehow clearer and wiser looking into the increasingly cloudy future. For I see better today what I’ve tried to ignore before - today is simply a continuation of yesterday. Tomorrow, a continuation of today. An unbroken and hardly insignificant string yesterdays and yesteryears leading up to the here and now. Though a fresh blank calendar page holds infinite possibilities, it does not--cannot--sever today from the realities of yesterday—bad or {blessedly} good. I’m finally stepping into this new year freed from the delusions that the tick of a seven to an eight might solve the world’s problems or magically transform me into the person I intend to be all at the stroke of midnight. What I do now understand is...

I. HATE. WAITINGGGG!” I actually yelled this aloud the other day in a painfully weak moment {thankfully no one else was around to witness my crazy}. Despite all the reflections on Advent and waiting, despite getting my world rocked that morning by my friend Mave's incredible Blessed is She devotion about God’s timing , and feeling utter peace in my soul—proclaiming to the world that “Jesus is in the waiting!”—only hours later I was once again cursing the wait and having an internal tantrum that would put a threenager to shame. Because human nature is a fickle and powerful thing. I’m in this weird space where there simply aren’t enough hours in the day and I desperately need more time, yet I’m also just aching to skip ahead to certain days that my heart has been hanging onto—almost as if life itself depended upon it—days that, in my mind, will bring happiness, hope, and maybe even healing. But I realized something today—it all finds its roots in my desire for control. I’ve set...

It's strange sometimes how what's meant to be an inspirational snippet can become your complete undoing. One late summer day, I innocently watched a preview for a groundbreaking new show whose main character has autism. I was prepared to be touched and uplifted--but suddenly found myself shrinking inward as the reality of the subject matter landed a little too close to home. And there I sat, powerless, as an unwelcome emotional dam broke open to flood the depths of my soul -- a flood I thought I'd successfully ignored into dormancy, but whose currents apparently ran far deeper and stronger than I'd acknowledged. This particular dam goes by the name of "The ASD Mom Keeping it Together." ASD being Autism Spectrum Disorder, of course. And it's not a dam I pay much heed to or a subject I broach very often, here or otherwise — mostly to protect my son’s privacy, somewhat because I've learned over the years how to keep the dam mostly inta...

CLOSED! Congrats to our winner, Elisabeth S.! ADVENT. It arrives in two weeks, people. I have been waiting for Advent for {seemingly} ever this year, and we are FINALLY so close I can feel it. The reason I've been waiting so impatiently is, of course , the gorgeous Blessed is She Advent journal - a devotional called In the Beginning  designed by Erica Tighe and written by  Laura Fanucci , which invites us into that sacred, anticipation-filled "beginning"-- the origin of our being, the beginning of our faith journey, the gift of new life and a new year and new possibilities. 2017 Advent Journal Laura takes us through the beginning of each Gospel in a soul-stirring new way, and having snuck (more than) a few peeks, I can tell you that I.cannot.wait. for this journey! I also happen to have the inside scoop that this year, everyone with a journal will be able to participate and share the journey in a beautiful new way, together . It's gonna...

11.13.17 Sometimes you get just plumb tired of life. Tired mentally from the drudgery and toil of demanding routine, tired emotionally from the struggle, tired physically from the pain and exhaustion.  And there’s just no way around it {but through}.  I used to think I could {& should} tell myself to suck it up and power through and be happy anyway. {Talk about unhealthy coping mechanisms}. But I’m learning—between the hard work of dragging myself from bed on these life-tired days and the endless to-do list that’s never actually done—that purposefully injecting intentional joy into my day helps balance the difficulty of the “through” and energizes me to do more of the hard stuff in the end. Today, I had the presence of mind to go beyond the mental exercise and actually write joy into my schedule. Today, after centering my tired soul with morning prayer, I felt compelled to make joy not just a nebulous task, but a visual goal. I started with something as simple a...