by Joey | Dec 31, 2017 | Devotional Series, Joyful by Design
On paper, I had everything I could have wanted in 2017. We moved into a new house, my business was thriving, and Things Looked Good. The thing is, though, 2017 wasn’t good to me. But it was good for me. I learned you can get everything you want and still be empty. But most unexpectedly, something happened in 2017 that changed me. Wrecked me.
I was lost. A lost I’ve never experienced before. Imagine the confusion: I have it all. Everything I prayed for, I got. And still, my soul was tired and dead. And yet, I kept praying the same prayer, stubborn in my own desires. Surely these blessings meant I was right. God wouldn’t give these things to me if I were on the wrong path. But the funny thing is, you can get everything you want and find out it’s not what you want at all.
Sometimes, you have to see the grass for yourself to understand that it’s not actually greener.
There was a lot of pain in my year. There were things that happened that hurt me to my very core; things I couldn’t possibly understand at the time. But it was in those experiences that I started to understand God’s love and grace. Something happened early on in the year that rocked me and closed a very important chapter in my life. It’s something I clung to and kept running back to any time things got hard. And in a very big, very obvious way, God removed it from my life. With the lifeboat gone, I had to figure things out in a whole new way.
I came to the end of myself. I was tired and confused and totally out of answers.
I had to rely on God and the talents He gave me like I never had before.
God pursued me hard. And I let Him.
As this year came to a close, I did a lot of reflecting to figure out what it is that I actually want. We let ourselves get so caught up in what society tells us we should want that sometimes it’s hard to really answer that question. But really, what do you want?
You can do anything you want to do. I mean that. You can literally do anything. The problem is, we get caught up in what everyone else is doing and how they are doing it. Social media doesn’t help things. Instead of using it as a means to connect, we use it as a tool in which to measure success. We stop chasing our dreams because someone else is already doing it, and they’re probably doing it better–according to you, anyway. We worry if people are going to judge us. We worry about failing. We worry about looking stupid.
It takes confidence to go after what you really want. And if you’re anything like me, you’re full of self-doubt and the belief that you aren’t good enough. But God gave me a mantra as a gift this year that I’ll be forever grateful for, and I want to share that gift with you: God gave you your talents. God put those passions into your heart so you would go off and do something with them. God doesn’t make crap. And doubting yourself, doubting your talents, doubting your passion is an insult to God.
Take some time to reflect on what it is that you really want and decide to just do it. Don’t worry so much about the how. Don’t get caught up in being the best right out of the gates. Let yourself start and grow and learn.
I’ve always been a writer. The desire has always burned deep in my soul for as long as I can remember. I’ve always wanted to make people feel good, to find worth in themselves, to feel encouraged. And I’ve always been passionate about how powerful words can be.
So here I am.
Doing it.
What do you want?
by Joey | Dec 27, 2017 | Joyful by Design
I had a roommate my last year of college who was the master of “the last bite.” She would orchestrate her entire meal, eating in a choreographed fashion so she’d be left with the perfect last bite. Thinking back now, it was probably God’s doing that she was my roommate my senior year after an otherwise tumultuous college experience. She was so full of joy, and she taught me how to live through grief gracefully.
2017 has been one heck of a year. I spent a lot of it feeling sad, lost, and like I was drowning in an ocean I filled myself. So much has happened in the last three years that I’ve forced into a box, one I promised myself I’d deal with eventually; you know, when I found the energy. But guess what, sometimes you don’t get to make that choice. I learned that painful lesson so maybe you don’t have to.
Since the end of 2014, I’ve been on a rollercoaster I couldn’t make stop. With every unexpected twist and turn, I lost a bit of myself. Just keep your head down, I told myself. It’ll be over soon. But you know what happens when you keep your head down? Life, friends. Life happens. And you don’t get to enjoy any of it when you’re staring at the ground and keeping yourself busy so you don’t have to feel anything.
Grief has been a close personal friend the last three years. One I’ve been too afraid to introduce to anyone because I’m supposed to be stronger than that. First, football made an unexpected exit from our lives, forcing us to uproot everything we built and start over on a broken foundation. Then my father passed away after an ugly battle with an autoimmune disease. And then, just as we were starting to feel the breath in our lungs again, we packed the final box and drove away from my childhood home for good. Like I said, it’s been a rough few years. But the problem is, if you don’t let yourself feel those things, you become hollow and numb, just going through the motions.
I don’t remember much of this year. That’s hard for me to admit, but the days just passed me by. And that’s exactly what I wanted to happen, I willed them away. I’d lay in bed at night thanking God that we made it through another day.
But about a month ago, I decided I didn’t want to live like that anymore. I examined my life and collected my pieces. I finally allowed myself to feel all the loss, to become buried in it. It was hard and painful, but it was necessary. The Big Losses, if you allow them to, can do amazing things to your life. They can propel you into a new chapter, one you wouldn’t have access to otherwise. But if you don’t move forward, you’re just left living the same life surrounded by loss. And that’s a painful way to live, friends. Trust me, I would know.
So, I made some big changes. Changes that would allow space in my life for the things that bring me joy. I won’t sit here and tell you that’s easy to do, it’s not. But I will tell you that making joy a priority in your life is your right. You are allowed to make changes. You are allowed to stop dead in your tracks and say “no, this isn’t right for me anymore.”
Grief is a part of life, and it shouldn’t ever be something you’re embarrassed to feel. It doesn’t make you weak. Asking for help doesn’t mean you aren’t strong. None of us are equipped to do life alone, that’s why God made Eve for Adam. We’re meant to connect and share and do life together.
In the last few weeks, I’ve spent a lot of time doing just that. And as I sat across from a dear friend recently, catching her up on all things life, my heart felt happy and full.
Last bite.
You have the right to change your story at any time. You still have time to finish out 2017 with the perfect last bite. So whatcha gonna do?
by Joey | Nov 29, 2017 | Devotional Series, Real Life
So, I guess I have a lot to catch you up on. There really is no easy way for me to say this except to just come out with it. I left my company. I am no longer a partner of Bliss Creative Services, LLC.
I don’t exactly know where to start, so I guess I’ll start in the middle. Without going into too many details, this year has been a royal struggle for my little family. We just couldn’t find our footing, and every month seemed to introduce another obstacle. But I was armed with drive and persistence.
Bliss was doing well. Is doing well. But somewhere along the way, it became more than just a business to me. It became my end all be all. The one thing I put above all else. I looked at it like my lifeline. I would and did do all in my power to make it work. It became an idol, and no amount of work was ever enough.
But more and more, I found myself swimming in stress, anxiety, and personal struggle. Regardless, I prayed the same prayer I prayed often. Lord, please bless my business. Please let Bliss support my little family.
The thing is, I use my journal for prayer, and it’s interesting to see that somewhere over time, the prayers changed.
Lord, please provide clarity.
Lord, I don’t know how to articulate what’s on my heart, but I know you know already, so I’m just turning my heart over to you. I feel change coming.
Lord, here I am always begging you to speak to me and yet my mind is never idle. There is no white space. I am always consuming information, desperate to learn all there is to learn. And that’s important, but how can I expect to hear your voice when I don’t spend any time in silence?
Lord, I am putting this in your hands. I trust the plans you have for us. If it is your will, please let _______ come through for Jonathan. Our little family could do with catching a break. Ultimately, only your will be done. (editor’s note: ____ did not come through for Jonathan. And that has proven to be a blessing.)
Lord, please, rescue us.
If you couldn’t tell from those prayers, there was a bit of transition with Jonathan’s job. Thankfully, that has all worked out for the best, but things were still messy.
And then one night, everything came to a head. I was spiraling, reaching for resolution. I sat up brainstoming ideas trying to think of different ways to make all the pieces fit together.
Lord, we will do whatever is Your will and rejoice in it. Reveal Yourself and Your plans in Your perfect timing and we will obey. Tell me where to go and what to do. Drench us in your love and ignite hope. I trust you have plans to use us. We put our hope, faith and trust in You.
You see, my mom had major surgery in the middle of October. What came with that was slightly unexpected. I didn’t realize how terrifying it could be for your only remaining parent to undergo something like that. The aftermath was hard and stressful. And in the midst of all that stress, I got sick. It’s possible it’s a flare up of something that’s been laying relatively dormant since the great health debacle of 2013, but regardless… one of the sacrifices I made for the sake of the business is: I don’t have health insurance.
Everything, and I mean everything, came to a screeching halt that night. I felt scared, exhausted, and completely unsure of everything. I cried myself to sleep begging: tell me where to go and what to do.
When I woke the next morning, I heard a strange message: you can let it go. For those of you who may not be believers, I’ve only ever heard the voice of God once before, and it was back when I was a teenager begging for God to tell me whether or not my relationship was worth the hell we were going through. God eventually answered with a simple yes that sent peace radiating through my soul.
I knew it was the voice of God. And I knew it was Bliss. And though I couldn’t make sense of it, the relief was immediate.
I know that won’t make a lot of sense to most of you. And I wish there was some way for me to articulate exactly all that went into that whole experience, but those of you who are believers will totally understand. When you actually hear the voice of God, it’s rare that you’re unsure. But we’re all humans, and it’s something that can be hard to be 100% certain about. For that reason, there are several ways to test whether or not what you’ve heard was actually the voice of God.
- Does it agree with the Bible.
- Does it make me more like Jesus?
- Does my church family (or small group) agree?
- Is it consistent with how God shaped me?
- Does it encourage me to mind my own business? (For further explanation here, basically, God won’t ever speak to you to get a message to someone else. If we feel that a message is meant for someone else, we are to wait and pray. God will speak to that person directly. God usually uses other people to confirm what he has already said to someone else.)
- Is it convicting rather than condemning?
- Do I sense God’s peace about it?
I can and will do a whole separate post about how to test an impression, but the ultimate point here is that I tested the message. And a good friend finally said the words I’d been trying to avoid for two years: if you’re doing all these things to keep Bliss going, when are you going to write books?
The reality hit me like a ton of bricks. The business wasn’t ever supposed to be the dream. The business was supposed to make the dream more attainable. And at the end of the day, if it’s one dream for the other; writing books will always win.
The truth is, I lost sight of it all. When I left my nannying job all that time ago now, I had one mission: replace my income working from home so I could create more white space to write books. But I got swept up in it all. Being a business owner was exhilerating and terrifying in the most wonderful kind of way. Working with my best friend was the. freaking. dream. Succeeding at something I wasn’t even sure I could do was intoxicating.
But in the end, it’s not the end all be all. And God said to let go. So I obeyed. I may not understand it completely, but that’s not my job. I trust the plan He has for me, for my life, for all these dreams swirling around in my heart. And He’s never let me down before.
So, now you can find me quietly doing the work that helps me provide for my family. And in my free time? (Because I’ll actually have free time…) I’ll be the girl in the corner at the local coffee shop pounding out the words. And just like that, life makes sense again.
Thank you all for coming along on this entrepreneurial journey with me.
But most importantly, thanks to Myra for literally going on the journey with me. Tuesday mornings won’t be the same without your face in my computer screen. I had a dream, and you took a huge leap of faith with me. And for that, I am eternally grateful. For the last time; take care of Bliss.
by Joey | Oct 9, 2017 | Real Life
So I’m just going to say it. Out loud (or through a computer screen, whatever). This post is going to be long, tough, and uncomfortable. But the truth is, I’ve been hesitant to share certain things in the spirit of staying diplomatic. But Brene Brown offers a great piece of advice for writers on sharing.
[ctt template=”8″ link=”6a15n” via=”no” ]’I don’t share anything until my healing and growth is no longer dependent on the reaction to it.’ -@BreneBrown[/ctt]
I often do a gut check with my writing by asking myself if I’m sharing my story or someone else’s. But it’s harder to tell when you’re done healing from something. Especially because with some things, I don’t think you ever fully heal.
When I was sixteen, I had a boyfriend. For the sake of this post, we’ll call him Brad Brown. We’d dated once before my freshman year. And he was everything my little teenage dreams were made of. Tall, goofy, fun, and just enough of a bad boy to keep me interested. And keep me interested he did.
I thought girls who gave guys a second chance were stupid. When someone hurts you, why would you let them back in? Especially so intimately? Though I was young, I was oddly wise beyond [my] years adults would comment. I blame having much older siblings. So when this guy broke my 14-year-old heart, I was done. Hurt, but done.
But we had friends in common. Classes in common. After school activities in common. Getting over him, I’ll admit, was torturous. Especially because he soon went on to date one of my former best friends. I had to watch him fall in love with someone else right under my nose.
But then that girl broke his heart. I knew painfully intimate details of their relationship thanks to my circle of friends. (Oh, good old high school drama, huh?) And strangely, I felt bad for him. I’m empathetic to a flaw, so I watched him from a distance, mending, healing, growing, learning, changing.
But when he approached me some time later, my guard was up. I set my boundaries and insisted I’d stand firm. Friends, I told him, and nothing more. But over time, he wore me down.
Don’t make me regret this, I said to him one hot August afternoon, leaning against my silver Toyota Camry behind the school, just outside the band room. And just like that, I let him back in.
Our relationship was tumultuous right from the start. But what teenage romance isn’t? We shared a few special moments with a whole lot of D-R-A-M-A in between. It didn’t matter, I was in. All in.
There’s something you should know about teenage me. I put the entirety of my worth in whether or not certain guys were paying attention to me. And really, this is probably true for a lot of teenage girls. (And I really, really hope if they’re reading this, they can take my word for it–you are more than what a guy thinks of you.)
So when things got bad (and trust me, they got bad), I excused it all away. I liked to think at the time I had a strong set of core moral values. And I did! But when you put your whole worth in other people, especially as a teenager, those things get muddled easily.
But then things got irreversibly bad. He stripped me of whatever was left of my self worth and left me in pieces. But he held on to one. And he taunted me with it, never escaping fully from my view. Looking back, I wish the concept of ghosting existed back then. A clean break is easier to heal from, I do believe.
Instead, he yoyo’d in and out of my life for months. But eventually, slowly but surely, he faded from view.
I was deflated, defeated. Completely unsure of who I was, and why I was. But in the years that followed our split, he found himself in a lot of trouble. And I found myself surrounded by authentic love and friendship. I was happier than I’d ever been, and I knew in that time that I’d received a rare gift. The ability to learn from and appreciate the heartbreak. I turned off the lights and closed that part of my heart. Farewell, dear heartbreaker.
Thanks to Facebook, I was able to peek in on his reckless life as mine stabilized. Shortly after healing from that heartbreak, I fell in love. Actual love. And oddly, it was that experience that helped me to understand and appreciate the heartbreak for what it was. I was heading down a dangerous, reckless path. And Brad stopped me dead in my tacks. And when you’re left so broken, you don’t have a choice but to rebuild yourself.
It was in the rebuilding that I found myself. And once my pieces were all put back together, a boy walked into my life who has never, ever walked out. (In case it’s not clear, it’s 14 years later and that boy is now a man and he’s sitting next to me on the couch playing a video game. 👋🏻 husband.)
Anyway, years and a whole lot of adult life later, I got a weird text from my editor who happened to be an old HS friend.
“Brad Brown died.”
In that moment, ice ran through my veins. I felt…something, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on what it was. To the grown, adult, married woman version of Joey, his death meant very little. But to the broken 16-year-old that I left behind in that dark room, it was a big deal.
My editor later messaged asking if I was going to try to go to the funeral. I wasn’t on Facebook at the time, so there was really no way for me to get a pulse on the situation. While my relationship with Brad was arduous, I absolutely adored his family. And they were all I could think about.
I struggled with what to do. I told my husband the situation when he got home from work. And we decided together that if I wanted to go, I should go. So, a few days later, I drove the hour North and sat quietly in the parking lot watching faces from my past file into a large church.
The sun beat down on the black car, and I thought for just a fleeting moment that maybe I’d made a mistake. I hadn’t seen any of these people in nearly a decade; I hadn’t spoken to Brad’s family in even longer. So, I was considering throwing the car into reverse and leaving when I heard my name shouted from across the parking lot, a voice excitedly beckoning me from the car.
Two old friends, comrades from the dark season of my life, welcomed me into tight hugs.
The funeral was harder than I thought it would be, but not as hard as what came after. Brad’s dad caught my eye from across the room. I walked over and offered a shy hello. Because really? What do you say to someone you haven’t seen in over a decade under such circumstances? He enveloped me into one of his famous bear hugs in reply, and suddenly, for a brief moment, I was sixteen again.
I spent two years of my life with Brad. Of his 28 Christmases, he spent 2 of them with me. In the grand scheme of my life, Brad became relatively insignificant. And my biggest fear showing up that day would be that his family would wonder why on earth I was there.
But instead, they seemed almost relieved to see me. They shared their concerns over whether I knew the news since I wasn’t on Facebook, and in the spirit of a long-overdue reunion, they invited me back to their home. A home where I once spent so much of my time. The home where my former flame took his last breath. I’m pretty sure the spirit of my 16-year-old self is still trapped in those walls somewhere. But eventually, the night came to a close after many hours of casual catching up with people who didn’t know the adult version of that girl.
As I drove away that evening 3.5 years ago, that house slowly fading in my rear view mirror, I wondered what it all meant. I knew the situation I found myself in was rare–strangely grieving the loss of someone I’d already left behind. There was an odd symphony of emotions with a little guilt and shame mixed in for good measure.
Grieving the loss of an ex-boyfriend who had once hurt me as an older, married version of myself felt wrong. But the reality is, life is blurry and messy. And we can’t always predict how any given situation might make us feel. If someone had told me five years prior that I’d attend Brad Brown’s funeral, I would have rolled my eyes. Just the mere mention of his name was sometimes enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand.
But in the end, I’m glad I went with my gut; with my heart. We carry every version of ourselves around with us daily, even if we’ve long since closed the book on their story. And every so often, they demand to be seen and respected. And really? I think that’s okay.
by Joey | Oct 8, 2017 | Real Life
Do you ever just feel like your life is out of your control? Like you wake up, do all the things, and then as you’re laying in bed think to yourself what did I even do today? That’s been me lately. I’ve been productive, don’t get me wrong. But it seems I’ve lost all sense of control and my priorities have been all out of whack lately.
I often find myself thinking back to what life was like when we lived in Buies Creek. Minus the whole six month so-sick-and-scared period of our time there, I was really on top of my game. There was balance to my life, and I feel like ever since we left I’ve been on this constant quest to find it again. My days were all my own, but they had structure. I had this can-do attitude and put nothing off. Because really? I had nothing to lose.
There I found this interesting relationship between time, productivity, and that accomplished feeling. It was as if I concocted the perfect blended cocktail recipe and consumed it obsessively. (Almost as obsessively as I consumed quesadillas back in 2013.)
I would wake up with a hunger to get things done. I viewed every chore as simple minutes exchanged for relaxation. Okay, bear with me as I try to explain this train of thought here. Hopefully I make sense.
Take folding/putting the laundry away for instance. I hate that task, and I drag it out. I know I’m not alone here. I would ordinarily take the clothes out of the dryer and lay them out–but then leave them abandoned, pulling from the pile day after day until it was time to start the cycle over again. But in Buies Creek, I would say to myself “this task really only takes a few minutes. That’s nothing in comparison to the amount of time I’ll trade thinking about it.”
It was as if I recognized the burden the unfinished chore would have on my mind. That’s what’s exhausting to me these days. The constant looped thought of I didn’t empty the dishwasher, I’m too tired to vacuum, when was the last time I cleaned the toilet? Little by little, the house would become a disaster and it weighs on me.
I know, I know. You’re all screaming at the computer BUT YOU WORK FROM HOME! STOP COMPLAINING! But you guys? Working from home means I’m home all day making a mess. I’m home all day in the mess. And I work until it’s time to go to sleep–all the while obsessing over all the things I didn’t get done. It’s a problem, and I need to address it.
I got out of the habit of being proactive.
These days, anything that isn’t related to Bliss Creative Services is handled reactively. Like oh, the house is a mess, I need to clean it. Instead of it’s Tuesday so it’s time to clean the toilets.
So, it’s time to reintroduce some good habits and structure beyond the work day into my life. I want to hear from you how you guys handle all the things. In the past, a cleaning scheduled worked really well for me. I also relied heavily on a good morning routine that would set me up to have a worry-free productive day.
As I figure this out, would you guys want me to keep you updated? I feel like maybe we could all use a little boost here, huh?
