Yesterday I had a meltdown at work. I was prepared for chaos because after all it was Thursday and its usually one of our busier days. By the time 10 am rolled around and my fellow supervisor came on the floor, I was undone.

I don’t know why…but I just couldn’t grasp all that needed to be done and communicate effectively what need to be done. I have no idea what our drive thru times were looking like. I couldn’t keep coffee going, nor take all the calls that needed to be taken in drive thru, and keep all my other tasks going. As soon as I headed in the  back to do the deposit, I pretty much forgot that I was in charge, which probably led to the chaos.

I am a perfectionist. Which doesn’t bode well in a world that this is an impossibility. Looking up perfectionist tendencies I found that often it is linked to severe depression and anxiety, both of which I also struggle with. Part of my depression, or perhaps own experience, is that I have a lot of hatred for myself and my inability to do the job RIGHT. So when I’m challenged or when I’m told that I’ve failed at something, it is devastating for me…even though I know that I can’t do it right and I know that things are going to crap. Yesterday was such a day…

My coworker told me there were areas that I needed to step up in, and that people were needing a leader and had no idea what they were doing on the floor. I remember being a barista on those days…its not fun. And so I berate myself for the fact that I can’t measure up, that I let people down, that I suck at my job and therefore I should just quit and give it to someone who is actually able to get the job done in a proper time.

So I sobbed like a baby…for a good 15-20 minutes and would not be consoled. I’m sure it was very selfish and self-centered. I couldn’t explain in…because ultimately I was beating myself up more then anyone could ever imagine. Being frustrated with yourself and hating yourself to the point of loathing are two different things, most people wouldn’t understand the depth of that despair unless they’d been there. And so that is where I found myself…loathing my very existence, my inability.

and that darkness is hard to explain. And hard to write. And hard to live with. and Find the light out of. There are flashes of hope…few and far between. I need to realize that I cannot be perfect no matter how I try, that I need to ask for help when I’m overwhelmed and that if I mess up I need to own up and step up to my failings.

I’m a highly emotional person, when I am corrected it feels to me like I have failed down to my very core, when really people are just passing on ways in which I can do better next time. It is hard to try to figure out how to respond appropriately and in the mean time it doesn’t help anyone for me to be a mess and not be able to be on the floor.

All this to say…at the moment my eyes are still puffy from yesterday…my heart is still broken over what I failed to do. I know that today is a new day…but its hard to let go of all the failings of the past, and step into the possibility of today. I feel very vulnerable today. Thankfully I’m only working 6.5 hours…hopefully I can do what needs to be done and lead with a knowledge that I am harder on myself then anyone will ever be.

Loathing and perfectionism are a soul lethal combo…I need to be saved from myself.


#FMF – Release

Writing with the girls over at FMF. Today’s prompt is RELEASE. GO I’ve always got a lot of things going on in my head…I’m thankful that most of the time my brain goes down a notch when I sleep, though not too much cause I’ve had some crazy dreams and those come out of the subconcious. All of that to say, that I’m thinking about a lot…but don’t always know how to express is. I want to…I sit down to write and the words don’t come. A year and a bit ago, my friend Kathi was dabbling in some watercolour painting and shared one of her pieces on Facebook. It was stunning. A lot of people expressed interest in her painting and she ended up having copies made for others. She ended up using the money made from her prints to get herself to Allume, a beautiful conference filled with some soul sisters and heart growing conversations. The print that I received from Kathi has remained in its original wrapping since I received it. She did a beautiful job of wrapping it in white tissue paper and twine, with a little watercolor bird as a tag. It was so beautiful I didn’t really want to remove the wrapping. And to be honest, I didn’t want to frame it because I wasn’t sure I could claim the sentiment after all. And so there it sat, on my shelf…with a bit of the image peaking through the gauzy covering…and the word ‘Writer’ sifting in and out of my mind. Last week I was talking to my mentor about this picture. About how I didn’t feel I could claim the term and so I had left it there in its wrapping on my shelf…because I didn’t feel worthy. I was challenged by what Kris said:

You write. You’re a writer. Just because you don’t write in a certain platform doesn’t matter. You write because God’s called you. There is something in you need to write. My writing looks different then other people. Frame that picture and put it up and CLAIM IT!

and so… I went to HomeSense (the Canadian version of TJMaxx I believe) and found a beautiful frame that matched the colours and then framed and claimed the title. Posting it on Facebook the way I worded it made people think (I think) that I had some kind of idea in mind for where this writing would take me..and that wasn’t the case. But the first step for me was framing the print and putting it smack dab in the middle of my desk so that I couldn’t get away from it. And to start fighting the lies that just because I can’t always get my mind down on paper, and while I’ve got lots of ideas swirling around to be shared, I’m still a writer, whether I write infrequently or not. This is a gift I’ve been given. Perhaps at this time its supposed to be something that I indulge in simply between God and me. I’m not sure…but I’m learning to be thankful. END 10456077_10152530173483846_7776653695223804399_n


It seems at this moment, I’m in a season where the words float around my head striving to be heard, and yet when I go to place them on the page, they just aren’t there or it won’t come out just right to be understood. And instead, I find myself reading the words of others, and finding my thoughts and my heart written in terms I had never imagined and yet they resonate so deep, I have a visceral reaction to them.

And I’ve been struggling with the notion that I’m a writer, because so often I struggle to write and see the words flowing from those around me and I hear the lie whisper, ‘Maybe you should stop calling yourself that. You haven’t written in ages and compared to others, you’ve really not got much to offer.’  And while I’m struggling with everything being holed up in my mind right now, I’m thankful that I am able to take in the words and truth that others are sharing of their own journeys with feeling ‘not enough’ and having others come alongside them who say ‘Me too’ and ‘I’ve been there’…and its such a blessing to my heart. I am also so thankful for friends who hear my heart, who I’m able to at least get a bit of my thoughts out with and who speak truth back to me about the seasons we find ourselves in. My soul is refreshed and I’m rebuilt through these words of truth and kindness, and hope begins to flourish…even if its only a seed getting ready to unfurl underground.