I posted this Sunday night on Instagram. This combination of a line from one of my favorite books and a photo I took while driving home one evening perfectly captured a realization I had that day. I am Daisy Buchanan. Most people who read "The Great Gatsby" develop a strong distaste for the main female character. She's vapid. She stays with a man who abuses her. She cheats on her husband. She neglects her daughter. She plays the men in her life against each other. She kills a woman. She lets the love of her life take the fall. The movie versions of the book turn her into a ditz. I once held these negative views about this fictional woman. They have evolved over time as the path of my life has taken me far from the one I initially envisioned for myself. I started to empathize with her and see her humanity, and most recently I saw her as a woman trapped by the expectations of everyone else. It doesn't change the morality of her actions, but it does make her more r...

Yesterday I watched a woman sitting in front of the bank across the street. She caught my eye because she was rubbing her legs furiously, wincing as her fingers moved up and down her shins. When she dipped a plate in water and poured it over her legs I thought perhaps she was washing her body, but when she started talking to people who were not there, I knew the truth. She was mentally ill. I sat on the floor of the balcony and hid behind a chair as best I could, but it wasn't because I was afraid she would see me. My presence would not interrupt the party she was having with her imaginary companions. She was perfectly content pouring water over her legs, picking leaves off the hedges, and handing both to the figments of her imagination. I was just awed…and a little jealous of her ability to be completely ambivalent to others. You see, I spend a lot of time worrying about what other people think. I have an idea of the person I want to be and how I want others to see me. So...

It's been quite a day around here. I woke up this morning and did my usual visualization/motivation activity. That just means I lie in bed with my eyes closed picturing what I want to get accomplished during the day and telling myself with all the gusto of a cheerleader, "Okay, you're going to get 3 loads of laundry done, write for 2 hours, and pay the bills today. PAY THOSE BILLS!" It's hokey, I know, but it seems to work for me.

"I took back those 4 boxes of hair color this morning." "Why did you get those colors?" "I don't know. You mean you didn't like that color?" "It makes me think of someone, and when that person enters my mind, I don't even want to kiss you." "Okay." "I mean, what's your obsession with these colors?" "So what color do you want me to try?" "I don't know. It's your hair." "Wait. The options are blonde, brown, and red. Which one do you like best on me." "I just don't like that color. Why don't you try one of the other colors?" "WHAT COLORS ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?" "I don't care. It's your hair. Do whatever you want."

Yesterday morning, Alan and I both woke before the alarm rang and stayed under the sheets in that last desperate attempt to squeeze a few more minutes of sleep before the day. He reached over and wrapped his arms around me. This is one of my favorite moments and always shifts my mood. As I lay there, my head swirling with all sorts of gratitude for this wonderful man and the precious quiet, he leaned onto my shoulder and whispered into my ear: "I REALLY need to pee." This is real love.

A lifetime ago I was at Cooper's Rock in West Virginia. The view of the tree covered Appalachian Mountains was stunning. I stood there overwhelmed and dumbstruck. Being outside in the mountains or a forest or the beach leaves me feeling connected to God in a way that a church has never been able to mimic. In this hallowed moment of personal worship, someone uttered the most ridiculous statement I think I've ever heard. "When I look at that, I think to myself, 'Wow, that's a lot of trees.'" We all laughed. This statement still pops into my head from time to time, and it did the other night as I listened to a talk radio show. (I'm addicted to talk radio the way some people are addicted to reality t.v.) The host was talking about some study that found a formula for unhappiness. Basically, we are unhappy when our idea of what our life should be is different from it's reality. Okay, so it was another "that's a lot of trees" statement, but...

While waiting for my modem to reboot (I think it misses me!), I read today's entry: Are you afraid and confused by the waves and the turbulence God sovereignly allows to enter your life?...Reflecting His peace is proof that you are right with God because you are exhibiting the freedom to turn your mind to Him...But if you only try to worry your way out of the problem, you destroy His effectiveness in you. I needed the reminder that the waves and turbulence are sovereignly allowed, i.e. they are still part of the plan. No matter how much I wish I understood, I really don't need an intimate knowledge of the nuts and bolts of this chapter in my life. In the real world, the whole idea of not worrying yourself out of a problem is much easier said than done. I know in my head that worrying is just a guise of control that gives us the false sense of working on a problem. So I suppose a lot of this all goes back to the idea of one day at a time. I've spent a lot of time lately tryi...

As we grow...we are less inclined to say, "I wonder why God allowed this or that?" And we begin to see that the compelling purpose of God lies behind everything in life, and that God is divinely shaping us into oneness with that purpose. (My Utmost for His Highest, August 5) I stopped asking "why" twenty days ago when I first read this. Oh, I still complain and cry and swear and wonder from time to time just how the minutiae of my life is shaping me into God's purpose. But I suppose that deep down I really believe this, so I keep trudging along through what seems like an unending field of uncertainty. It's moments like this that make me really miss my therapist. I'm in a pretty crummy state of mind. Chalk it up to the chaos in my life combined with the fact that I am married to a man who interprets everything that pours from my mouth as either, "you're stupid" or "you don't know how to manage money" or "you're irresp...

It's official. We now have five acres and a home in Lee County. It's complete with electric service, a telephone, and a post office box for mail. Now the fun begins. Our new place needs some work. A lot of work. I keep jumping to step 67 (rearrange furniture) while Alan just wants to concentrate on step 1 (mow down the overgrown bushes) and then move on to step 2 (de-critter the place) before jumping ahead to step 3 (pull out the damaged kitchen cabinets). It's a fun process. I've been a little put off lately that Alan hasn't taken me up on my offer to come down and scrub the walls with bleach while he removes and replaces the kitchen floors. As I was making the three-hour drive down there today, it dawned on me just how much he looks like a six year old on Christmas Eve. He's really excited about his new project, and in the back of his mind, I think he considers this his Charles Ingalls moment when he gets to build a house for h is family with his own two hand...

We're interesting creatures. My husband once yelled at me for not taking out the overflowing garbage can, "You're the stupidist smart person I've ever known!" I chased him down in the rain and tried to explain my absent-mindedness. Apparently, my doe-eyed "I didn't realize it needed to go out" look didn't cut it with him. I meant it. So did he. There was a time in my life when that statement would have sent me on a life quest to figure out what the hell was wrong with me for not being able to read his mind and keep my quirkiness from gushing forth like Old Faithful. (I mean, come on, I really should have noticed that a black banana peel was blocking the cupboard door from shutting.) As I've come to grips with the fact that I'm just another whackjob in the world, I've found that those quirky pieces of me are just part of my fabric. And I can drop the perfection facade and show the real me. Like the fact that in my perfect world, I can ...