Thursday, September 5, 2019

2019. BRUH.

I have a 13 year old son. I'm sure I'm not the only one who feels this way, but 13 year old boys should be some type of mass-scale anthropological case study. They are funny and smart and quick-witted, and make you beam with pride. They are also mutant-rebels, and in their bropinion, you are, in fact, the dumbest human on planet earth. They have the same baby face they always had, they just now have the beginnings of facial hair. They used to have sweet soft giggles, but now they have deep husky chuckles like James Earl Jones {if and when they ever let you see them laugh}. The status of laundry has not changed, but the amount they leave on the floor has exponentially multiplied.






Our house often has teen boys in it, and their speech rubs off. I also happen to work as a social worker in a part of town that is directly adjacent to skid row. My vocab has hints of hillbilly twang, a few dashes of social twerk, sprinkles of Food Network level chefdom, and it's thoroughly blended up with Bible references and adolesnonsence. Needless to say, when I speak, people often tilt their heads while the narrowing of their pupils tells me they have absolutely no idea what I'm talking about. Awk. To this end: I've included a quick reference at the bottom for readers who don't have me to explain me or my vernacular in person.


2018 was pretty much a banner year for me. I found a job that I loved, I got to witness some miraculous things, and I made peace with myself; if only for a minute. We decided to pursue adoption from foster care. We watched a lot of the world crumble around us, and while it broke my heart, I didn't shrink back and cry, I showed up like a warrior for causes I care about and gave no apologies for where I stood.







In 2018, I FINALLY found that it matters zero to please people. I matters infinity to please my maker. I've chased life, pursued dreams, and came completely off all anti-anxiety meds and anti-depressants for the first time in years. I still had setbacks, but my setbacks no longer took months to recover from. So I told 2019 to bring it. I was ready. Oh it did, B.


Our adoption has hit several snags due to red tape and government bureaucracy. I have a medical mystery that has caused neurological symptoms that are scary, unpredictable, and so far, unexplainable and completely mystifying. My relationship with my son has struggled a bit this year, and that is something I've never had to face. I didn't always handle it well. For all these things and others: I've worried about it. I've prayed about it. I've cried about it. I've also come down with a severe case of baker's block.


Those old nagging issues of anxiety, self-worth, and these unspoken but highly socially programmed messages of all the things I "MUST" do or be... they all reared their ugly little heads.


Bruh.


In looking back over the past 2 years, I am learning something. I have determined that until I commit to accept that I am acceptable simply because God delights in me and rest in that, I am doomed. I regret every single year that I was sucked down this vortex. I regret every moment that I was tethered and chained to paralytic anxiety, worry, soul-sucking depression, and a thirst for control. I don't regret one second of times I have fearlessly and un-apologetically chased joy and aggressively pursued delight.


I have the best friends in the world. Some near, some far, but I have so many in my life that are so easy to love. I would never treat them the way I treat me when stuck in that black hole that is anxiety. If they came to me overwhelmed, struggling in a relationship with a child, scared from health concerns, or something worse, would I berate her for not trying harder? Would I tell her it's no big deal? Would I tell her that she was not enough for the size of her dreams? Would I over-think and analyze everything to death from every angle and demand to know exactly why her plan failed? Would I critique her performance and pick it apart? Would I downplay her achievements and tell her they were no big deal? Would I declare her a cotton-head-ninny-muggins? Absolutely not. IDTS. That would be preposterous.


I make the decision today and every day that I will stop being afraid. I choose to fight this nonsense with every fiber of my being. There is no threshold of arrival or circumstance that can or ever will define my worth. A life that makes me & God happy is enough. The same goes for you. A life that makes you + God happy is enough. As long as we commit to humbly grow and rely on His Wisdom rather than our own, we will always be enough. 2019, it's nice to finally accept you for what you're teaching me. I'm lowkey grateful.



Sara-ictionary:



Adolesnonsence. adv. Adolescent arbitrary grouping of sounds and/or symbols conveying no intelligible meaning in the traditional sense. Also, can mean the conduct, behavior, decisions, or ideas that are contrary to good sense, good manners, logic, reason, rules.

Awk. adj. Awkward.

B. n. Person of importance in my life.

Baker's block. n. The desire to bake all things, so there can be no decision on what exactly to bake.

Bropinon. n. The opinion of any bro.

Bruh. n. 1. teen male greeting. 2. The assertion that something is awesome, extreme, stupid, big, or aggressively bad. 

IDTS. Acronym. It means "I don't think so."

Lowkey. adv. 1. Moderately. 2. Secretly. 

Social Twerk: v. The profession of assisting others by assessing their needs and working through a number of disciplines and agencies to assist in filling those needs--also endless paperwork and documentation, but infused with Sara-flair and humor.

Twang: adv. accent influenced by Southern geographical location. If you like country music, it's that lovely undefinable quality that smooths out the lyrics and makes the fact that his wife left him for his best friend that much more heartbreaking. If you don't like country music, it's the quality that makes you hate it.





You are enough. You will always be enough.