I’m sitting with my heart this week and making sure that I’m offering space for every emotion to freely exist. I’ve learned over the last year that if I implement no other self-care practice into my routine for the rest of my days, these periodic heart checks are more than enough.

When LoveMo launches this summer, you’ll notice two overarching themes in its gifting: Heart Heavy and Heart Happy. And honestly, those descriptors just naturally appeared on paper one day, without any real thought as to their true parallels to human emotion. We all have heart heavy issues and heart happy issues, even if the Instagram feed highlights otherwise and even if we choose to focus on one more than the other.

You’ll see plenty of blog posts and social media stories about the joys of my life and all of those heart happy moments. I’ll go on and on about the changes I’ve made in my relational health that are having a domino effect. The doors that seem to be opening for new opportunities to connect with people and impact their lives. I’ll share fun tidbits about my family, show off my brand new shed office (!!!!) and open up about encouragements and praise reports after overcoming strongholds. Trust me, you’ll see A LOT of fun and party and love around here.

But if I’m practicing complete and total self-care, if I’m committed to overall wellness and wholeness, I have to remain true to transparency in the heart heavy times as well. So in addition to the party, party, party, you’ll see the struggle, struggle, struggle weaved in too. That’s what I want these heart checks to be. An honest moment to check in with myself and weigh in with what’s on my heart.

My therapist challenged me the last time I saw her. She does this often. She asked me to find a box and every time something triggers me or sits heavy on my heart, to jot it down, pray on it, and throw it in the box. After a week or so, revisit the box. See if the problem on the note still carries the same weight. If it does, pray on it again and put it back in the box. If it stirs up nothing, thank God, let it go and discard of the paper. Write. Box. Repeat.

So in my box went a few things heavy on my heart at the time. And at each note check, one note would come out (thank you, Jesus!) yet the same note would go back in. Every single time! It’s now been a few weeks – and I’m craaaaving time to sit with my therapist!!! – still, the same note goes back into the box every time.

That note reads: “FAMILY. Lord, you know.“

Gosh, no one hurts you like those you love most. Ain’t that the truth?

I’ve been planted in a difficult season. A season unknown to me, before last year. A season navigating familial relationships in a new way. A hard way. I have no idea how long this season will stretch. I’m in month #16 and though I firmly trust that God sees my position on this road, I see nothing. I see no clear direction of where I’m headed, clouded by a looming fog of all the emotions one typically tries to steer clear of. Frustration and anger, fear, sadness, worry, depression, hurt.

When I face this particular problem, when I encounter these individuals, therein lies my greatest struggle. My struggle to express my heart, in love. My struggle to exist in their presence. My struggle to move beyond my hurt instead allowing it to overwhelm every thought. To them, I’m calm, cool and collected, building a creative business and living a beautiful life full of social activities and grand travel escapades. On the inside, my heart is crying out to God, praying and pleading for change. Change in me. Change in them. Change in the atmosphere. Praying that this creative business that I believe in with my entire heart would be the catalyst for conversation, for heart transformation. Praying that it would be the example. For me. For them. At least show me how to lead by example. I’m filling my social calendar with individuals who understand the ache of my heart and speak life into mine, give me an audible voice to the words I know Jesus is constantly whispering over my shoulder. I know He’s in control and He’s working, but this valley is so tough to venture through so I’m thankful for those who simply sit with me, listen, send an encouraging word whenever my face pops in their mind.

And though I feel defeated at times, I never want to bypass hope. “No one is beyond hope.” I heard those words almost 15 years ago at church and they still present themselves to me, clear as day. I’m hopeful. I’m hopeful that relationships will be restored, raw emotions will spark healing, and our family’s “test” will become our testimony to share with others in battle. I’m hopeful, constantly reminded of a God and a friend who is ready to step in and claim victory in this fight, but also one who so lovingly wants me to find rest in His mere presence right now. We are all simply being refined, made stronger in our weakness.

The other week, I found my iPad charging cord. My iPad, gifted to me on my graduation day from UNLV (2012), sat lifeless on a shelf. I misplaced the charging cord and knew it would eventually pop up. Fast forward two years and there it was. TWO YEARS. It took over 24 hours for the poor thing to completely charge. But when it did – and when I finally remembered my darn password – it was almost like a time capsule. My niece and I scrolled through countless photos and hilarious videos, momentarily traveling back to a time that looked much different than life today. Days filled with random evenings together, dancing and burning cookies in the over. Weekends spent in pajamas, in front of the TV binging on pointless television. And yet, those imperfect and messy days were always the best days.

I miss my family in those days. I miss the way they showed up. The way they fiercely loved. The way they supported and encouraged each other, cleared their schedules and always made a way to simply be present. I miss the way they fought and clawed just to show how important someone was to them, how important their time was, how valued they were. I miss the days we’d spend together doing absolutely nothing and finding the time to spend entire weekends doing just that. I miss how selfless they were. I miss growing in our faith together, volunteering in ministry together, traveling together. I miss the confidence I had in knowing our family was secure in their love for one another. And I miss the heart of who they used to be – certain that their pure and deeply loving hearts were God’s intention for them in creation.

Some of the family that stands before me these days, I hardly recognize. I can’t seem to connect to. And I no longer know how to communicate with. I struggle. As days transitioned into weeks, months and now over a year, I came to grips with the reality that I’m navigating one of the hardest spaces emotionally, mentally, relationally and spiritually that I ever have, and the greatest difficulty comes with releasing my grip on the desire to want to “fix” the situation. I find myself standing in the middle of allowing God to have it all and attempting to establish boundaries while still somehow expressing my “love” from a distance.

And then this pops up on my Instagram feed:

WHOOOO!!!! @wearesoulsparks!!!!! This. Is. Gold. (Please go follow this page, find this post, like it, then grab a box of Kleenex, a journal, or SOMETHING and go read the caption that accompanies this post. It is one of the best things I’ve read all year and will absolutely help open your heart (and mind) to check your heart.)

I realized I’ve been holding space for family, but not for myself. More concerned in leading them to peace instead of making sure I was experiencing peace. More focused on connecting them with Jesus than making sure Jesus and I are solid. More attached to the emotions I may be triggering in them than the emotions they trigger in me. Plain and simple, I was attempting to give from an empty cup. I associated my physical presence, my “yeses” and my acceptance of their patterns of grieving as an expression of my love for them. I never wanted my love to be questioned so I created this mask, not completely sharing my heart, but not completely masking it either. I knew a removal of any of the above would be seen as extreme opposition, an attack, which only intensified my struggle to care for their heart and somehow care for mine as well. It took that simple @wearesoulsparks reminder to fully grasp that love can exist where boundaries lie. That love for self can be the best example of a love for others.

“We will never be able to change others; they have to make that decision on their own. We will never be able to heal others; healing is a deeply personal and transformative journey and one that looks different for everyone. We will never be able to control the opinions, or thoughts, or behaviors of anyone other than ourselves…but we can teach others how to treat us. We can show others what self-worth looks like. We can raise the bar and invite others to meet us there. We can be a lighthouse.”

I’m not entirely certain if my family reads my blog. I know my parents do (hey, Mom & Dad!) But I’m hopeful that this read will express an unconditional love in the midst of, what could be, one of the greatest trials our family has ever known. The love remains for me. Just like Jesus, it’s unconditional. I pray that, with that acknowledgment and understanding, I can shift the focus back on myself and learn to release, what was never in my control to begin with, back over to the Lord. It’s His battle, not mine. And my peace is my priority.

“Releasing is not to stop loving you,
But is to love enough to stop leaning on you.
Releasing is not to stop caring for you,
But is to care enough to stop controlling you.

Releasing is not to turn away from you,
But is to turn to Christ, trusting His control over you.
Releasing is not to harm you,
But is to realize my “help” has been harmful.

Releasing is not to hurt you,
But is to be willing to be hurt for healing.
Releasing is not to judge you,
But is to let the divine Judge judge me.

Releasing is not to restrict you,
But is to restrict my demands of you.
Releasing is not to cut myself off from you,
But is to prune the unfruitful away from you.

Releasing is not to prove my power over you,
But is to admit I am powerless to change you.
Releasing is not to stop believing in you,
But is to believe the Lord alone will build character in you.

Releasing you is not to condemn the past,
But is to cherish the present and commit our future to God.”

I’m choosing to be a lighthouse and I’m practicing the release. More than ever, I’m praying that with a few more note checks, the Lord will help deliver me from the struggle, guiding me through the unknown fog that currently lies in front of me.

I’m encouraging you to do one thing this week: Check in with your heart. Truly check in with your heart. For some of you, the box practice will work. For others, maybe you just need a moment at the marina, the lake or the bay. Just a calm moment, perhaps a #WeekofNo (see my last post) to silence what’s around you and hone in on what’s inside of you. Gather up all your emotion friends and have a chit-chat. Again, if no other self-care practice is implemented into your routine, these checks are more than enough.