reflection | the last year.

This place started out a place that no one knew about where I would journal things I was thinking about.

About a year later, it evolved into a place where I could share words and pictures at the time time with still only a handful of faithful followers.

By year two, it had completely turned into a place where most of my world was watching everything we did, from the little things to the big things.

Then, last year happened. I realized that I had started this blog for myself, but over time I had gotten caught up in sharing for the sake of the world, my world, instead. Somehow along the way, I started to share mostly for the world and a little for myself, rather than the other way around. But it wasn't until I was in a season of darkness and struggle that I realized what had happened. Instead of wanting to sit and think and write about the day's fun, I found myself feeling like I had to. Why did I feel like I had to? Because then the world would know something was wrong.

When I wrote my first blog post after Braxton was born, a lot of people said these words to me: "I'm so glad to see you writing again. It shows that you're healing."

I can remember how good I felt when they said this to me, especially after only being less than a month following the worst trauma I've ever known. If I could get through that in no time with a smile on my face and genuine joy in my heart, I thought to myself, I could get through anything. Sharing our adventures and lessons learned in marriage, parenthood, and all-things-us was something I enjoyed, and still do enjoy, so much.

It's just that all last year, for one whole year of my life, I shared because felt like I had to. Because if I didn't, people would notice. And they would know, y'all would know, that I wasn't as strong as you thought I was.

It might sound ridiculous to you, but that's the truth.

It's easier to share these things on the other side of the fire. My closest, most trusted friends knew I was struggling to put one foot in front of the other, but even they didn't know how deeply my soul was aching. I didn't want my world to know that things had taken a turn for the worse since welcoming Bethany into the world and into my arms. Mainly because no one expected it to.

But it had. And I was being affected spiritually, emotionally, physically, mentally I was under attack, and it was the most brutal, gut-wrenching thing I've ever been through.

Adoption can't be that tough, because of how "beautiful" it is. That's what I'd always believed, and I knew that most others were of the same conviction. But I was caught off guard by the size and weight of the emotions that came with another woman choosing me to be the woman her daughter would call Mommy. I knew it would be intense, but I didn't know it would knock the breath out of my lungs. Add to it the lack of sleep and endless cries for months and months and months on top of the other daily responsibilities I had, I was a mess. An absolute mess who was hoping that everyone would stay in the dark concerning my own dark season.

I honestly don't think people were blind to it, but no one ever said anything.

I posted every month on the seventeenth for Bethany because I had done it for Braxton, and I tried my best to do all the same things for her that I had done for him. I had seen plenty of other mamas do it, and this was a real thought I had more times than I can count: if they can keep up, then so can I. Even if I could've be (and probably should've be) sleeping and resting instead, I could do it.

I'll spare you further details that lead to my breaking point that happened just several months ago (unless you want to grab an ice cream one day and swap stories, of course), but I heard this quote while listening to a podcast that left me weeping for days:

"You would never have believed your own weakness had you not needed to pass through trials. And you would never have known God's strength had His strength not been needed to carry you through."

That quote mixed with Psalm 28:7 was all I needed to break. Honestly, I was already broken. But it took me a long time to confess it. To share it. To not be ashamed of it.

Part of my healing included taking a sabbath from this space here, a place that has been so fun for me for a decade. I resolved to begin to say yes to things that gave me life instead of heavier chains, and I also resolved to viewing life in terms of seasons. Meaning that just because something is present for a season, doesn't necessarily mean that it will follow me into the next. These things started happening in January, and it has taken me three months to get a place where I feel like I'm breathing deep again.

Not for the sake of anyone or anything else, but for myself. A healthy version of myself who isn't faking smiles and hiding behind posts.

I've been on a journey of self-discovery for the past couple of years, and I've just started to get to the core of who I am. I've always believed that as long as I know Whose I am, knowing who I am didn't matter that much. Now I know that was a lie, because the more I press in to Who made me the more He shows me who He made me to do. The two can't be separated.

I suppose the darkness showed me what real light was.

A deeper, more intimate knowing of and confidence in Who the Light is.

And the light that shines in me, too. A blazing fire, not just a picture of one.

I'm grateful that the heavy season I've just shared about is behind me, but what kept me there isn't lost on me. The enemy stole from me, destroyed parts of my memory, and sought to kill me -- my spirit, anyway. But praise be to God that He is a RESTORER, a COMFORTER, a HEALER, and a REDEEMER. I am living in abundance with eyes wide open for the first time in a long time. And I believe that all that has been stolen and destroyed will be returned and put back together again.

This space, my beloved blog, is one of those things. The different between now and before is that I'm more aware of who I am. I'm not the picture of strength, perseverance, or all-things-good.

I'm me.

And this space is a place for me that I also invite others into, not a mandatory picture of perfection and fun, constant transparency and life lessons. See how powerful expectations are? My own expectations have kept me in shackles for more times than I can count. When I think on idols I have in my mind, my expectations are always on that list. Less than before, but still crippling nonetheless.

I want to be a picture of progress, not perfection. Believing all the while that I am beautiful because I was made to be beautiful. That I am enough. That I am strong. That I have hope. That I can know healing.

That we all are. That we all can.

So, let's start over, shall we?

Hi, my name is Anna. It's nice to know you. And it's absolutely wonderful to be known.

"...Here I am, pry me open.

What do you want to know?

I'm just a kid who grew up

Scared enough to hold the door shut

And bury my innocence.

But here's a map

Here's a shovel

Here's my Achilles Heel

I'm all in, palms out

I'm at your mercy now

And I'm ready to begin.

I am strong

I am strong

I am strong enough

To let you in..."

- Sleeping at Last, Eight -