I Found Myself Grateful October 25, 2022

When I got sick in November of 2019

My active life came to an abrupt HALT

No more reading books

No more jogging

No more walking for any length of time

No more barre

No more circuit training

No more dependable body

No more predictable life with plans I could keep

HALT!

That was 3 years ago

That was a very long season

That was a time I will always remember

That is a time I have learned to appreciate

My time of SLOW

SLOW…

Last week, I found myself sitting

I was sitting on my yoga mat at Barre and Soul

I had not been to the studio for 3 years

I had not done barre for 3 years

I used to do barre weekly

It was a FAVORITE of mine

FAVORITE

Last week, while sitting on my mat

Pure JOY welled up within me

Joy from being so GRATEFUL

Grateful for the desire, opportunity, and ABILITY to give barre a try again

Being full of joy and gratefulness was sweet

It was also powerful

It fueled me during that session

JOY – GRATEFUL – ABILITY

As we began the class, QUESTIONS surfaced in my head and heart

“Am I really back?”

“Do I have the health and strength to get through the class?”

“Will I remember how to do it?”

QUESTIONS

As we closed, I was able to answer myself…

YES!

YES!

YES!

Sometimes we cannot fully appreciate something

Until we lose it, even for a time

I lost barre along with my active lifestyle

It was given back to me, piece by piece

I have no crystal ball and cannot predict the future

But today I have a body that is much more dependable

And for that, I find myself GRATEFUL!

GRATEFUL!

© 2022 Brooke F. Sulahian

Between Two Worlds July 10, 2022

What a journey

I have experienced these

last two years and eight months.

At times, the journey has

moved very slowly.

At others,

it has moved at top speed.

It feels like forever

since I have written any words,

since I have shared with you

what God has been

sharing with me.

This quote spoke to me

a few months back.

It’s from Grief Walk…

“I feel stuck,

caught between two worlds;

what was and what is.”

Being in limbo…

stuck between two worlds…

is usually not conducive to

peace in my heart.

It is an unknowing

of where we are going

and what we and life

will be like.

I found myself

fighting the urge to go back

to what was,

what I knew,

what had been,

simply because I knew.

Stepping into the unknown of today

felt scary and foreign to me,

especially since I

had no idea what my future

life and self would be like.

At times I truly wondered

if I would be able

to leave my bed,

be active,

be able to enjoy life

with my family again.

I desire control, even though

I know I can’t really have it.

I want to grasp my yesterday

and carry it into

my today.

Believe me,

I tried many times.

I learned that

yesterday won’t fit in today.

The size and shape of my day…

my hopes…

my experience…

my being…

and

my life

have changed.

My yesterday is to be left there…

along my path.

This is hard for me to do…

to let go.

However, I must let go

of yesterday,

in order to embrace today

and carry it toward

my tomorrow.

At times I feared

I would return to my bed

for an extended stay.

At times, many times,

I did not trust in the One

who knows me best.

I feared that I would be stuck

where I did not want to be.

I am so very grateful that

God helped me trust in My Creator again.

Elohim helped me let go of yesterday

and step into my today

again, and again, and again.

As a result,

I no longer feel stuck.

I don’t have a view

into the future,

but I’m very excited to share that

over the last couple of months

my body

has become more

dependable.

I am gaining strength

and confidence in

my body and my brain.

I am learning to trust

myself again.

I can work for longer periods of time.

I am trusting my memories and thoughts,

as well as my understanding

of what I read and hear.

I am jogging and walking.

I am climbing higher and higher,

literally, at the rock climbing gym.

I even kayaked today for

two beautiful hours.

My last migraine was in mid-April.

I recently pushed myself physically

for the first time since

November of 2019

and did not spike a migraine

or even a headache.

These are small yet powerful

victories.

I am deeply grateful.

However, even though I am

making desired progress,

I still have much to share

of my learning along the way.

I still want to share

my experience with

grief, mourning, and lament.

I think it’s so important

for us to grieve, mourn, and lament

well.

If anything I have learned

will help you in your grief,

your mourning,

your lament,

then I want to share it.

Will you continue to walk with me

as I share what God has shown me?

I gratefully no longer feel

stuck between two worlds,

but at peace.

Not constant peace,

but moments of peace.

The most peace

I have felt in many years,

as I do my best,

to live in each today.

I believe we are to live between

two worlds…

living between our yesterdays and

our tomorrows,

grasping our todays with both hands

and doing our best to

embrace what each day holds.

Not feeling stuck here,

but feeling alive here.

May we each embrace our todays

with hope, grace, courage,

and a spirit of

gentleness towards ourselves.

Gentleness is not highly valued

in our world, but it is

another cherished gift

from this long and

painful journey.

I am learning to be gentle

with myself.

To listen to my body

and respond in love.

As you walk in your todays,

I invite you to try on gentleness

and see if it fits.

I have a daily opportunity

to live in my “what is”,

doing my best to trust

my “what is” to

the only One who truly knows.

I invite you to join me.

© 2022 Brooke F. Sulahian

Quote from Grief Walk by Gary Roe

A New Way…Entirely March 7, 2022

As I walked to the cafe today,

my first solo cafe trip of 2022,

it hit me…

I need to view life a new way…entirely.

Why, you ask?

The door to my pre-chronic illness self is closed,

my current state doesn’t support my former activity levels and capacity, and

the way ahead is shrouded…

as it should be…

I can only see the step immediately in front of me.

This makes me wonder if I actually

saw more of my future path

before falling ill.

I don’t think I did,

but it may have felt that way.

Life was predictable,

my body and brain were predictable.

My body and brain are no longer predictable.

That is very hard to admit.

I took a picture of my chai tea latte today…

and shared it with this post.

May it serve as my cairn

for this day when I admitted

this truth to you and myself.

The truth about my body and brain.

May it remind me of my stand for God’s Truth,

my commitment to placing all of my hope

in God’s hands…

eventually.

I want to note here that I am very thankful

for the health I do have.

I can get out of bed on my own,

live independently,

feed myself,

think for myself,

give big hugs (again),

and so much more.

I have a family to love,

a family that loves me,

inspiring work,

dedicated friends,

a relationship with God,

and so much more.

I have so very much for which to be thankful.

I know I have much more than some others.

I know others struggle more than I do,

but I will not let this keep me

from grieving my losses.

Other’s struggles and challenges

can provide perspective,

but they should not discount

our pain,

our losses,

our fears, or

our struggles.

How can I heal and move forward

if I cannot grieve?

The quote below caught my heart this week

as I listened to a new devotional.

This season, this season where

I still feel like a shell of myself,

this season that began in November of 2019,

has led me to currently crave God,

to be filled with Our Creator as never before…

I want to be filled with

Our Sustainer’s

Truth,

Love,

and

Presence

all day long.

I find myself needing to be soaked by God’s Truth

by listening to

Words about God,

and words from God;

spoken and

sung.

I am trying every avenue I can

based on my current brain capacity.

Like a plant with roots that are dry,

I need God to fill me each day

so I know what Truth is

and stay on that path.

I can so easily be

distracted,

confused, and

disheartened

these days.

What I want and need is God’s Truth.

Then I need to fully trust.

Check out this quote (with my added paraphrase)…

“Loss requires us to re-imagine hope.

But before hope, comes acknowledgment.”

We must be willing to look at our future

with multiple possibilities and paths

or face “identity foreclosure”.

We need to grieve the loss of our specific imagined future

that has been changed, altered.

I realized this week that I am actively grieving in

a deep way.

Am I still grieving the loss of my sweet in-laws?

I bet that I am and will be for some time.

However, that grief is not at the surface

of my heart or feelings.

I know where Mekah and Papa are and believe I will see them again.

There is great peace in that.

The loss that is at the surface of each

thought,

action,

reaction,

plan,

and every thwarted plan

every day

is the loss of my dependable

body and brain.

I grieve the loss of my body

on which I could rely

to exercise on schedule,

walk and jog for miles,

generate those cleansing endorphins,

enjoy a daily walk outdoors,

join in a game of family knock-out,

and grow stronger.

I grieve the loss of my brain

on which I could rely

to read books (with my eyes) for pleasure,

work on Hope for Our Sisters

for hours at a time,

process complex ideas at any moment,

easily tune out the noise

from the important conversations,

and live fully on my terms.

Yes, those words sting a bit…

my terms.

I took this body and brain for granted,

my body and brain,

the ones that seem to have left me,

figuratively.

This is my acknowledgment,

the step that comes before re-imaging hope.

My acknowledgement about

my body and brain,

but more importantly,

the fact that I cannot seem to

give all of this to God.

I refuse to fully let go,

I choose to hold on

to who I was before.

Do I fear my future?

Do I fear the answers God has for me

about my body and brain,

my life?

I am not sure,

but I know I am resisting

God’s invitation to give it all,

100%,

to Him in Trust.

This 25-minute time frame,

right now,

during which I can focus and write

without blowing up my brain,

and/or forcing my body back to bed,

this is significant,

this is new,

this is now.

In addition to refusing to give

my every concern and challenge to God,

it is clear that I have also been viewing my future

with great specificity.

I had no idea I was doing this until I heard

the quote above.

I replayed the quote many times,

then chose to write it down.

That was and is God’s message for me.

I can choose to limit my future view,

by holding on to a very specific future,

or I can choose to view it openly,

giving God full control.

Ah, there it is.

Giving God control.

I know God and trust God

in my heart, mind, and soul,

but not fully yet,

not with my physical future,

not with my current and future day-to-day activity.

I act as if my plans are better than God’s,

but I know better than that.

Walking to this cafe

it hit me…

I need to view life a new way…entirely.

What does this all mean?

I intend to discover and share with you

over the next

minutes,

hours,

days, and

years.

This will be part of my

grieving/mourning/lament focus this year.

One thing I do know

is that I cannot assess my days

by my productivity anymore.

I am not productive these days,

and that needs to be OK.

This morning,

and the last two mornings,

I have intentionally handed my hope,

all of it,

even the last strand I was keeping to myself,

to my God,

My Creator,

My Sustainer.

This is very hard to do.

The worst of this season is still fresh.

I know where I don’t want to go,

I don’t want to go backwards in my healing,

but I also know I must

trust my Creator 100%.

I pray I will do this every day.

There will be days when I cannot,

but for today

I am choosing to re-imagine hope,

to view my future with multiple possibilities,

not only the one I can see or imagine.

We’ll have to see what it looks like together,

as I move ahead

craving God’s Truth

and Abundance.

© 2021 Brooke F. Sulahian

Quote from Good Enough by Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie

Perfectionism is a Prison July 21, 2021

Perfectionism is a prison,

a prison out of which I have been trying to break

as long as I can remember

My head knows perfectionism is

unattainable

My soul knows perfectionism makes me

second guess myself

My heart knows perfectionism causes me to

critique, rather than love, my body

Today, June 29, 2021,

I dealt perfectionism a powerful blow,

knocking it, shaking it on its very foundation

I chose to love myself

rather than worship perfectionism

and I won,

my family won,

God won

With the Holy Spirit indwelling my imperfect self,

I can win this battle again tomorrow

In fact, through the amazing Power of Jesus

and keeping Him at my center,

I expect I will win…

again and again

© 2021 Brooke F. Sulahian

Grasping Hope January 20, 2021

GRASPING HOPE

Each day I try to choose hope.

 Some days

 I actually grasp hope

 with both hands

 and hold on tight.

 

This last weekend

 I had my worst migraine attack

 since being diagnosed with

 vestibular migraines,

 PPPD (chronic dizziness), and

 related/unrelated vision issues.

 

 I was in bed all day

 from Friday morning

 until the following Tuesday morning.

 I didn’t fight it.

 I knew that would only make it worse,

 and my time in bed actually 

taught me a lot.

 

 I learned that 

I have become more gentle.

 More gentle with myself.

 More gentle with the expectations I have for each day.

 More gentle when confronted with my limits.

God has been inviting me to be 

gentle with myself 

for the last few years.

Here I am.

 

 I also learned that I am grieving.

 Grieving the body I once had.

 Grieving the body that worked like a clock.

 Grieving the body that would 

workout anytime I wanted to workout

 and rest anytime I wanted to rest. 

 

As I move forward toward healing

 and walk in the pursuit of healing,

 my body may look and operate

more like it once did

 or it won’t.

 I must leave that in God’s hands.

 

 I also learned

 that our compassionate and 

tender-hearted children

 have grown in empathy.

They have learned about 

caring for others

while watching 

my hubby care for me.

 

 Not only did they bring me 

my favorite drink,

 chai tea latte,

 but they added 

cinnamon on the top.

They brought me my favorite 

sweet peanut butter snack,

 added a couple of my “safe”cookies,

 one last chocolate treat,

 and a dairy pill 

just in case anything had dairy.

They remembered

the dairy pill.

 

 It warmed my heart.

 It warmed my soul.

 It made every part of me smile.

 I felt so known.

I felt so loved.

 I give God thanks for

 this beautiful silver lining

 from the chronic health path 

we have all been walking

the last 14 months.

 

Lastly, I learned that I

had chosen hope

each day of that 

long weekend in bed. 

Actually, I was grasping hope

with both hands

 and holding on tight.

 

 Hope. 

Hope is an amazingly powerful word.

 I often say that hope is what 

gets people out of bed every day.

 Hope is what motivates people 

to answer the phone or the door.

 Hope is what gives all of us 

a reason to look into tomorrow

 

Each day I try to choose hope.

 Some days 

I actually grasp hope

 with both hands

 and hold on tight.

© 2021 Brooke F. Sulahian

The Middle Path…New Way July 28, 2020

When this journey began last fall,

I thought I would take a certain path,

discover what needs to be discovered,

find the solution or solutions,

and move on.

That’s not happening.

I don’t like it.

Seriously, who would?

I am not naturally patient

nor am I a fan of trial and error.

I also miss the Brooke I used to be.

So, with a variety of medical issues acting

up within my body and system simultaneously,

I am praying for the strength to

1. surrender my desire for control and a plan,

2. be gentle with myself regarding my new limits,

3. have the courage to take steps

beyond my limits as needed, and

4. trust the process (every step) and

final outcome (whatever that looks like)

to God, my Father.

I am not mad or angry.

I am uncomfortable, exhausted,

foggy-headed, sad at times,

yet also hopeful,

a bit stubborn,

and thankful.

I know He’s got this…

it’s my turn to let go,

surrender, and

fall into His rhythm.

The Middle Path…

the New Way…

His Way

 

(More to come…)

© 2020 by Brooke F Sulahian