i'm better for it Friday...LISA'S STORY

Lisa's story. 

I’ve always been a  happy person. 

Since I was a little girl my mom has called me “Sunshine”. 

I’ve always tried to look on the bright side, 

believe the best of people and situations, 

count my blessings and stop to celebrate the little things in life. 

I think living with joy has always come easily 

because I truly love life, people, and simple pleasures. 

Several years ago I purposed to become 

the most positive person I knew. 

I haven’t always succeeded but I have tried 

to remain positive and celebrate life every day. 

Of course there have been difficult times in my life, 

darkness even. 

But through it all I’ve always come out of things 

with a deeper appreciation for life, love 

and and the wonderful things that are available for me to enjoy. 

I write a lot of gratitude lists and 

write a lot about celebrating the big and small things 

that I’m thankful for. 

I try and bring goodness to the lives of those around me. 

I strive and be a loyal friend, passionate wife and loving mother. 

My art is bright. 

Most of my paintings have uplifting words or phrases in them. 

I feel like I do a pretty good job 

at being happy and spreading happiness. 

My blog is called “Happy Mama” for the love. 

I’m happy. 

You get the point :)

Recently a big mess of sadness has entered my heart. 

Old sadness that was never really full acknowledged before 

has come to the surface, and new sadness sets in 

as I begin to unearth the cause(s) of it all. 

As someone who typically focuses everything I have 

on the “good stuff” 

you can imagine how uncomfortable I feel 

sitting with this sadness, trying to listen to it, 

and wanting to learn from it. 

Some of this sadness is coming from seeing someone 

I dearly love in pain. 

In recent weeks I’ve come to realize 

that there is nothing I can do to make it better, 

and that is painful. 

But the main source of this sadness sets in 

as I look back on my childhood years.

There were definitely times of joy 

and happiness in my childhood. 

I've always been able to identify and celebrate those memories. Recently though, I've come to see very clearly 

that I grew up in a house where 

emotional abuse was common place. 

Control was had by one person. 

Only certain emotions were acceptable, and 

if you said or did the wrong thing on the wrong day, 

you’d be sorry. 

Authentic feelings were stifled by fear, control, and manipulation. 

Anxiety became a way of life for two small girls and their mama. Our carpets were made of eggshells 

and our hearts were made of glass. 

It didn’t take more than a few minutes of yelling 

before my heart was broken again. 

Sometimes it only took one cold look from him 

to make me collapse into myself. 

Sometimes it was just the knowing that 

the work day was over to send me into a cloud of dread. 

Dinnertime was coming and we didn’t know 

what to expect from him. Was it a good day? 

Would he be happy to see us? Or was work stressful, 

his life overwhelming, and he would lash out 

at the first person who dropped a cup, 

or disagreed with his opinion?

In the worst of it, usually hours of rage-laced yelling and fear, 

my little self went to a place of darkness. 

A place of hopelessness and fear. 

A feeling like nothing was ever going to be okay. 

I so desperately wanted it to stop, for things to be normal. 

To go to bed every night knowing that 

I wouldn’t wake up to yelling. 

To spend my day thinking about childish things 

and not worrying about what was going to happen next. 

To not see the sadness in my mama’s eyes. 

To not live in a house where tension 

was the fifth member of the family.

When I think of my little self, my sister and our young mother

holding tightly to each other in those years,

I think of a strong bond. 

We loved each wholly and every moment 

of fun and togetherness we had carried us through the bad days.

When it was just the 3 of us, I was on top of the world. 

Life was good and fun and full of laughter. 

I sometimes wonder what life would have been like 

had we always had that safety. 

When I think about all of this, I just cry and cry. 

I cry for what might have been, 

what kind of life would we have had without the fear, 

the sadness, the worry. 

Who might we have been without the 

yelling, the roaring, the raging? 

Who might we have been with stability, 

safety and a true sense of well-being?

Recently I started sharing about my sadness on my blog. 

It’s been a big change since the focus of my blog 

has always been about joy, gratitude and 

enjoying the good things in life. 

It took me several posts to begin to feel comfortable 

writing about these uncomfortable emotions. 

Since I began sharing about this 

I've been delightfully surprised by the outstretched hands, 

open arms, and HUGE hearts of friends near and far. 

I am so thankful for each drop of kindness 

that’s been offered to me. 

I'm also completely blown away by the number of people 

who are now or have gone through something 

so similar to what I'm experiencing. 

It's comforting to know that I'm not alone on this journey 

through the cloud of grayness.  

Others have come before me, and are with me now, 

traveling the path toward healing. 

There is a pureness, and absolute beauty in vulnerability. 

I didn't realize that sharing some of my tender pieces 

would reach out to the tender pieces in others 

and connect our hearts together in such a meaningful way. 

I’m thankful for each word, each memory, 

each painful piece, 

each truth that has been shared with me. 

I cherish it all. 

Hearing the stories of other’s sadness has 

touched me and given me courage to face 

the darkness of my pain.

There is something so stunningly beautiful about the 

power of human connection. 

I am just in awe of it. 

As I face my fears of feeling exposed and 

step forward into the truth of my story, 

I am amazed by the village waiting to embrace me. 

My soul is soothed with every loving exchange with my husband, my family, my friends, and new soul sisters 

I'm having the honor of getting to know. 

I will never again underestimate the power 

of telling the truth, and honoring my story, 

especially the ugly parts.

It’s taking me time and practice to let go of needing 

to always be happy, always wanting to feel good. 

I think I’ll always crave joy, because I just love it :) 

But I’m learning that sadness serves a purpose, too. 

I’m learning that saying “I’m struggling” is a good thing, 

because it allows me to let go of holding everything by myself 

and open my arms to receive the love and support waiting for me. I’m learning that being vulnerable is good, 

when you have people you can trust with that vulnerability. 

I’m learning that talking about the ugly, or broken, 

or scary things is soothing this heart of mine. 

I’m learning that connection is 

amazingly powerful and healing. 

I’m learning that I’m not the only one. 

I’m learning that mothering my own babies is 

helping me heal my broken pieces.  

I’m learning that I can reach deep inside 

and comfort that little me who was scared and sad 

and just wanted her mama to be happy. 

I’m learning I can mother that little me and let her know 
that everything would turn out okay, that she would be alright. 
I’m learning that I can stop ingesting the pain of others. 
I’m learning that happiness is wonderful, 
and joy is at the core of my soul, 
but sadness and gray skies are part of life sometimes, too. 

I’m learning that I can heal. 
I’m learning that some things can’t be solved 
by the end of the day, 
that sometimes I just have to accept it for what it is and let it be. I’m learning that every phase of life is a season 
and I’m in a gray season right now.  

My heart is always full, as I’m a full-hearted person. 
In this moment I'm accepting that while joy is there, 
sadness overflows right now. 
I accept that and I'm trying to embrace it. 
It's part of my path, my truth, my unfolding story. 
The sadness takes me to places in my heart 
that have been unexplored. 
It shows me the beauty of my broken pieces. 
It reminds me that there is always hope, 
that healing is a necessary and healthy part of life.

With courage from somewhere inside, 
and the support of my village, I’m walking towards healing. 
This sadness is making me a stronger person 
and I suspect when I come out on the other side, 
I’ll have a whole new appreciation for my story 
and the stories of others. 
Soon enough the sadness will leave and joy will return 
full force but until that happens I’m here feeling how I feel, 
healing as I go, painting my way through the tears, 
talking about it, and writing it all down. 


And the sadness? 
I'm beginning to think that I'm better for it. 
Yes. 
I am better for it.

Thank you beautiful, inspiring, loving Lisa.
Hop on over and visit Lisa here:

http://happymamasjournal.blogspot.com/


if you would like to share your
I'm Better For It story...please email me at:
kolleenharrison@mail.com
remember...we have to deal in order to heal
and in sharing our stories, the healing begins!!


happy weekend!
ox
kolleen