I Will Slay My Own Dragons

It makes me immensely uncomfortable to feel like someone has me up on a pedestal,

for I cannot stay still and will definitely fall off.

Excessive attention makes me feel suffocated.

I do not want to be the center of your world.

I do not care for being checked-in on every hour.

I am not to be chased down, I am to be walked alongside. 

Slowly. Patiently.

If I am rushed, I will guiltlessly turn and walk the other way.

Do not look to me if you want to be fawned over.

I am not capable of inflating a fragile ego.

I will not bat my eyes and cling to your arm.

Why?

I am an equal. I am a partner.

I am not a challenge. I am not a trophy.

You cannot win me, for I am not material to be possessed.

My ability to hold my own is not a threat to you.

Your pride should not feel bruised.

I can stand on my own and not waver when the storms come.

Do not view this as a deal breaker. 

It merely reiterates that I can handle so much.

If while walking beside me you find that I have slipped my hand into yours, 

do not mistake it for a victory. 

The battle continues. The war has not ended.

But I have chosen to fight with you through it.

I am not looking for someone to dote on me as if I cannot brandish my own sword and shield.

I am looking for someone to help me conquer the demons that try to take up space within us.

I am not looking to live a safe life up in a tower away from my past.

I am looking to blaze trails and establish kingdoms.

I am not looking for someone to settle down with in one place.

I am looking for someone who makes a gypsy heart feel at home on the run.

I will wait for someone who makes me feel being with them is better than being alone.

It will take a considerable individual for that to happen.

If they do show up...

I will defend them until I can no longer breathe.

I will support their dreams. 

I will have their back. 

I will show up even when they think they do not need me to.

I will celebrate each victory and share in their grief.

But I will not wait until this person arrives to live my life now.

So until then, I will continue slaying my own dragons.

Anxiety Like Mine

Warning: possibly uncomfortable-to-read personal truths ahead. I either go full blunt honesty in my blog posts or I don't post at all. Here goes.

It's a strange combination of relief and terror to read a list like this and realize you see yourself in each one. On one hand, it's nice to know I'm not alone, but on the other hand I can't remember the last time I didn't have at least a couple of these show up in my daily life.

• I sometimes suddenly feel suffocated at social events.
• I pick at my cuticles and don't even notice until I'm bleeding.
• I react strongly to certain noises and get irritated much faster than may seem appropriate.
• I have panic attacks when my brain gets too busy and I can't rationalize quick enough to calm myself down.
• I put my own needs on the back-burner if it'll be an inconvenience to someone else.
• I sometimes talk myself out of having feelings for someone if I sense they won't be able to handle anxiety like mine. Or, I intentionally sabotage the possibility and push them away because it's easier to blame myself upfront than wait for them to come to that conclusion on their own.

Without knowing it was happening, anxiety (and depression, but that's another story.) has changed and rearranged much of my life to the point I can hardly remember older versions of myself. But since I appear "fine" to the rest of the world, when these behaviors start to manifest in public settings the anxiety ramps up because if anyone asks, there's no obvious explanation as to why.

The most prominent thought in my mind on a daily basis is the need to DO something. I have an undercurrent of thrill-seeking I don't often get to indulge and it makes me a little stir-crazy on occasion. I get restless and fidgety. I feel like I need to go for a run, or hop on the next flight away from here, or sing at the top of my lungs just to try and release the pent-up something that weighs on my chest. 

When someone says something that makes me feel like I'm losing control of a situation or makes me feel boxed-in, it goes into hyper drive.

Adding fuel to fire is the fact I hate being a burden to people. Even if I'm told I'm not, and that they really want to know how I am, I will never be completely sure they mean it. I rarely open up to anybody about myself and my life. If I do, it sure as hell took a lot out of me to share. I'm a picky person when it comes to who I choose to trust with personal information. Even once I do decide to trust someone, there's a part of me that is fearful they will use what I share with them in confidence against me in the future when they finally tire of hearing about what is on my mind and heart.

There is an ongoing war in my head between what I know and what I feel. I know some people care, but I feel judged when I turn my back. I know I'm capable, but I feel helpless and incompetent and aimless. I know I may not always feel this way, but I feel like there's no end in sight.

I know I'm loved, but I feel merely tolerated.

I know I'm broken. I know this isn't the way things are supposed to be. But since this anxiety has become a part of who I am, I have to figure out how to live with it.

I am somewhere between closed-off and an open book. I don't have a problem sharing, but it winds up being indirectly with relative vagueness. I want to explain who I am. I want people to understand me. But there's only so much of that I can expect from others if I don't even entirely know myself. So, this is an attempt to clear away some of the brush I've let grow around me in recent years. Please be patient with me. Be patient with each other. In ways we cannot always see or fathom, all of us are in the midst of some kind of battle.

Sometimes that battle is with ourselves.

I used to write all the time. Even if I didn't share it, I wrote. Not so much anymore. Part of that is due to the fears and inadequacies I've felt take root in my mind, heart, and soul.

I am an imperfect perfectionist.

I'm my own worst critic. I'm just enough type A with a hint of OCD and ambivalence that I often wind up doing nothing to avoid failure because my heart can't take it. But I am tired of not doing anything.

So, I sat down and forced myself to write.

It has been a while...

Turns out I haven't posted on this thing in a really long time. So much has happened I can't even do a recap. But.. here's what's been on my heart recently. Brace yourself: This is NOT all rainbows and butterflies and happy smiley faces.

Truth time? Truth time.

This year, and especially the past few months, have been full of having to let go of expectations. I have been learning sometimes people who hurt you may not even know they did. Or if they do know and acknowledge the situation, they may place the blame on you, making the pain worse because now you bear guilt that is not yours to shoulder. I've also had to learn in some cases, an apology will never come. Because the person who hurt you genuinely does not care that they did.

Moving past a bad experience is tough. It's a wee bit worse when it involves being steamrolled and emotionally abused to the point you don't even recognize yourself anymore.

As a result of the recent bologna on my plate, I've had panic attacks (which are new and terrifying to me), bouts of anxiety (not so new, but much worse than before), depression (old news by now), and a near complete disinterest in socializing with even my closest friends (but I'm also pretty introverted, so who knows why exactly).

I don't share this information for sympathy or pity or to solicit prayers. I'm sharing because I am so tired of people pretending they are fine just because some people around us don't like to know life isn't all peaches and cream. Guess what? Life literally sucks for a lot of people. And it isn't because they didn't do this, or they did do that. Sometimes it JUST SUCKS. And that's actually really normal considering this world is so screwed up and imperfect and flawed. It's lonely to struggle with an issue that is so personal and hidden. But at the same time you also feel like someone should notice and ask you how you are. We need each other to help keep us upright when we can't do it for ourselves anymore.

Some people call Christianity a crutch for the weak. They're right. That was the whole point of Jesus coming to earth. He came to heal the sick. To save the lost. Be strong for the weak. I'm beyond grateful for that. If He didn't, I'd have given up a long time ago. Just because someone isn't physically or visibly hurt doesn't mean they aren't nursing some seriously painful wounds. And those wounds may be in their own heart and mind which makes them that much more difficult to heal.

Late last year, someone told me I was "so different from who you were back in high school". And they're right. I have changed. In a lot of ways for the better. I can stand up for myself now in ways I couldn't before. I like to think my worldview has expanded and matured. But in some other ways, I've not really gotten better. I'm bitter and cynical and often way too impatient and selfish. I've also noticed that thanks to some painful experiences, I'm also very closed off and scared of letting someone close enough to possibly break down the walls I've meticulously built up. I can't stand small talk, and spending time with groups of people makes me feel suffocated. It's so very rare I ever feel comfortable around people anymore, while in high school I was probably exactly the opposite.While I used to thrive off of attention, when I get it now I feel this intense need to deflect it away from me. Usually that is done with a vaguely inappropriate sarcastic comment, or by putting myself down in a comical way to try and change the subject.

That's why on the rare occasion I do like someone or enjoy their company, I get attached quickly. And maybe I get too excited to have someone in my life who doesn't immediately irritate me, and maybe I overshare too soon and trust too much. Whatever the reason, I tend to burn out the friendship too fast. So, because I'm aware of the fact I tend to do this, I stop myself before I can start. I self-sabotage my relationships because I just know that they will get sick of me and disappear just as I think they would never bail. And that's also really lonely. It perpetuates the known cycle I'm in, and yet I haven't been able to break out of it. Also working on that... but it'll be a longer process, I'm sure.

I'm a bit broken. I'm a lot bruised. I still get nauseous when I see a new email show up in my inbox. I have a bit of PTSD from seeing certain names show up on my Facebook news feed. I have to steady myself every time I go out in public. I feel like I'm on the run, but not going anywhere.

However, I'm trying. I keep working at being okay. I'm thankful for the family and friends who have been patient with me. I'm alive. I'm hanging in there. And I'm going to keep trying to hang in there. As long as it takes.

**If you made it this far, I apologize for the weird-as-heck spacing. I tried, but it wouldn't let me fix it. :(

A Month

It honestly doesn't seem possible that a whole month could go by so quickly, but apparently it can.

France and I have been becoming acquainted over the past 31 days. And, like building any relationship, it takes time. 

I'm able to go to the grocery store and find the right ingredients for dinner on my own. Driving I can do without a problem, whether it's picking the youngest up from school, or driving 30 minutes through the gorgeous misted countryside to drop-off a handful of teens for a retreat.
But then somebody will try to talk to me as I'm wandering down a cobblestone street in Chantilly by the Chateau and suddenly I feel lost. I do my best to be polite and apologetic as I botch an accent and the pronunciation of "Je ne parle pas Français," but I walk away feeling entirely awful and like I'm going to be the reason France bars any future Americans from coming into their country. It's a bummer.

Sometimes it's hard to fight back tears when I'm reminded how inadequate I am for this mission. It can be really discouraging to feel like I'm not able to be fully present during my time here. Not that anyone has ever said anything to make that seem at all true, so I guess we really are our own harshest critic.

One of the best parts of my day is when I get to pick up kids from school. It's really nice to be greeted with big hugs and big smiles. Although they've only known me for a month, they like me. I love them. It makes feeling stupid go away, as I'm reminded that these children don't care that I can't speak French fluently. They don't care that I ask a million questions about what certain phrases and words mean. They don't care when I ask them to quiet down while we're driving through waterfalls of rain on tiny streets during rush hour. They care about if I like the picture they drew, or if I like the skit they made up. They care that I laugh with them, and that I will hug them and kiss a boo-boo. They want me to jump on the trampoline and tickle them. 

Yesterday was a big win. As I pulled into the parking lot to pick up the youngest from his school, I got really nervous. Will he be okay with me getting him, or will he cry asking for his mom? Will the teachers start questioning me and be wary when I can't answer? What if he cries and because of that they won't let me take him home? As my mind panicked through every worst-case scenario, I knocked on the door, and managed to explain who I was there to pick up. When the little guy saw me, his eyes lit up as he excitedly ran over and hugged my legs. Also, he called me Evie(Usually he calls me by his last nanny's name, but they sound similar so we work with it. :P ) unprompted for the first time. That was worth every bit of insecurity I've had up until that point.

As we worked together to get his shoes and coat on, he kept saying "Evie! Home!" and touching my cheek with his hand. Now, he and I usually get along just fine. But this was the first time where it really was clear he was cool with me, and that he recognized me as someone he could trust.

And that was pretty awesome. :)

Une semaine en France

Bonjour!

I was hoping to get a post up much sooner than this, but it has been so busy here in France!

On Tuesday, August 26th, I left for JFK with my mom, a friend of mine, and his mother. Up until that day, I had been excited, but a bit anxious to get to France. Turns out that during the drive downstate I nearly couldn't breathe because I was getting so nervous.
I had never done anything like this before. Although I had gone to Nicaragua when I was 15 with my mom and church, that was an easy experience all things considered. I wasn't alone, we had people who could translate for us pretty much whenever we needed it, and it was only one time zone away from home.
This new adventure was scaring me more than I thought it would. I had never flown internationally, much less by myself, to live with people who were practically strangers in a country where I don't speak the language. Instead of having a full-on meltdown, I managed to keep calm with some grapefruit juice and awful cappuccino flavored potato chips. It was rough.

When we finally got to the airport, we parked, found my terminal, and suddenly I realized that this was actually happening. Aaaaand I may have broke down crying for a few minutes before I hugged my mom goodbye and went through security. As much as I had been looking forward to going, it suddenly hit me that this wasn't something in safe comfort zone planning stages anymore. This was a big grown-up moment and it was terrifying.

I probably scared some people as I was waiting in line for the security checkpoint. I kept crying for a bit. Then I forgot to cry when I realized my bag was being put through the scanner multiple times. The TSA people were eyeing me cautiously and I regretted having cut my bangs the day before because it must have made me look shady. Turns out I forgot I had a water bottle in my purse and they airport gods don't believe in affordable hydration...

Then came the endless walk to get to my gate, which quite literally had me thoroughly out of breath by the time I got there. By that point I was starving. Unfortunately, even the tiniest granola bar will cost you three weeks pay. Plus, the water bottles past security are somehow better than the free water I had before security... must be that it's filtered by magical unicorn tears...

Anyway. I made it onto the plane, got my window seat taken from me to be given to two guys who slept through the whole flight, and I had the whole back middle row to myself. Which would have been more awesome if it wasn't really awkward to try and lay down on it. But I finally saw the second new Spiderman movie. Then slept for maybe 10 minutes. Though, I did play a few mean rounds of Bejeweled 2 before we had to land. OH. The landing was probably the most gentle landing I have ever experienced on a flight before. It was like wading into a pool of chocolate mousse. But on pavement and without the delicious factor.

Anywho, after pathetically weaving my way through the Charles de Gaulle airport to find customs, and then the circus that is the baggage claim, I managed to find Mrs. Cross. We drove back to the house and I got to meet all the kids. They are entirely precious and so sweet and I really am so glad I have the opportunity to help while I'm here. It has been quite a crazy week between summer ending and school starting. Bath time and bedtime seem to be the biggest challenges between me and the kids. While it's so nice to have clean and happy babies, they do not always like to become clean and it makes them very unhappy. And bedtime means you have to stop playing with your dolls and your cars for the evening and that's just the worst possible thing ever...

But overall, it has been a great experience so far. I am definitely out of my comfort zone, and have been subject to constant make-believe personality changes at the hands of the colorfully active imagination of a princess-loving four-year old.

Serious side, I am a little out of my element. Usually I can take pride in the fact I adapt pretty well to new situations and circumstances, but this has me off balance. I already knew not knowing the language would be difficult, but it has hit me much harder now that I'm here how I really am missing out on a large component of the relationship building potential I would have had.

Also, although the kids are sweet and adorable and I have so much fun playing with them, I find at the end of the day I really miss full-fledged conversations with adults. I miss my family, and my friends, and having debates about important issues and chats about the mundane details.

So, if you all could be praying that I would manage to keep positive in spite of the language barrier. That I would be able to occasionally have conversations with people closer to my own age, and that I wouldn't be discouraged by feeling kind of like a lone wolf here. Thank you, so so much <3


OH! And thank you again to everyone who has helped support me financially! I would not have had this opportunity without you, and I am truly grateful.

I do still need to raise more support though to cover my expenses while I'm here. I need about $700 more in order to not worry about making my payments on bills at home, and to cover the random expenses that come up while I'm here. (You know, silly things like conditioner, because my hair decided turning to straw would be a neat stunt to pull on me.)

The address to send donations to is below.

Mission Nanny's
P.O. Box 61805
Santa Barbara, CA
93160-1805

Name: _____________________________________________
Address:  ___________________________________________

Enclosed is my contribution for Evelyn: ____________________
I pledge to send monthly for Evelyn's trip: __________________
I will be praying for Evelyn regularly: _______________________

Please send all contributions to Missions Nanny's at the above address, and a tax-deductible receipt will be sent to you.


THANK YOU SO MUCH! 

Please be praying. :) <3

God Bless,

Evelyn

I'M GOING TO FRANCE!

Dear Friends!

I'm so excited to share with you a little bit about what God has been working out in my life! A few months ago, I submitted an application and was accepted to serve with Mission Nanny's. Mission Nanny's was formed years ago to help overseas missionary families through stressful situations by sending a volunteer Mission Nanny to serve them. Website and more information about the organization can be found here: www.missionnannys.org

After a lot of prayer, I was chosen to serve Charles and Amy Cross in France. Mr. Cross serves as the Director of Missionaries with Greater Europe Mission in Paris, France. The family needs an extra pair of hands to help out around the house and take care of the children, ages ranging from 1 to 14. I'll be helping out anywhere I can while I'm there, including cooking, cleaning, laundry, housework, and entertaining the kids.

Lord willing, I will be leaving for France at the end of August 2014, and stay with the Cross family for three months, returning in November.

I'd like to ask for your prayers as I prepare for this trip. For strength, both physically and spiritually. Wisdom and patience in handling the children, and that through this adventure I would learn how to better be an encouragement. 

Also, that the financial support I will need to make this trip happen would come in.

Any small amount helps, and I'd be so thankful for anything you could share.

The total amount budgeted out for me I need to raise is $3,400.

Round-Trip Airfare: $2,000

Ground transportation: $300

Room and board will be free!

Personal expenses(Internet, phone, and bills at home while I'm away): $600

Contingency funds: $500

If you would be willing to help me in this area, here is the information on how and where to send your contributions.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 

Mission Nanny's
P.O. Box 61805
Santa Barbara, CA
93160-1805

Name: _____________________________________________
Address:  ___________________________________________

Enclosed is my contribution for Evelyn: ____________________
I pledge to send monthly for Evelyn's trip: __________________
I will be praying for Evelyn regularly: _______________________

Please send all contributions to Missions Nanny's at the above address, and a tax-deductible receipt will be sent to you.

Thank you for your help and support!

God Bless You!

Love in Christ,
Evelyn Iversen

Lessons

The first boy I recall having a crush on once told me a story about how he sneezed spaghetti out of his nose. He told me this on an evening when my parents invited his family over for dinner, and we sat at the kids table set up in front of the closet in my living room. If my memory serves me right, our meal was some kind of pasta based dish. I was only eight or nine at the time, and that kind of thing would usually disgust a normal girl in that general age-bracket. Me? I thought it was charming. Hilarious. Endearing, even. For whatever reason, young-me was undeterred by this brief glimpse into the innate grossness of boys. And considering I continued to have a crush on this kid for the next four years, I think I was far more forgiving and resilient back then. I mean, he was the boy that my mother told me she would choose for me if she could arrange my marriage. He could read almost as well as I could, which I found to be an extremely attractive quality when we would take turns reading Bible verses around the flannelgraph in our 2nd grade Sunday School class. Plus he rocked that late 90's haircut like a boss.

This crush came to a tragic end after I made the truly embarrassing decision to leave him a note in his Bible in the library after church one day. Given that I never received a response, and he is now engaged, I don't think it's going to work out. Sorry, Mom.

But, lesson learned. Don't tell a boy you like him, because it makes you look like an idiot. However, some life-lessons need a refresher course. Especially when you thought you learned them so young.

I met my first boyfriend at camp when I was fifteen. He was tall, played guitar, and had a very dry sense of humor. Took all of two days to develop a serious case of camp-crush on him. Of course at the end of the week, that manic panic of coming up with a way to casually ask for an email address or phone number sets in when you realize if you don't you'll probably never communicate with them again and, by extension, never get married. I don't even remember how it happened exactly, but he wound up asking me, so obviously our engagement was inevitable. After camp we began emailing, then chatting over MSN Messenger. (I know, another lifetime, right?) We'd play checkers and chess, talk about school, family, and God. He'd send me songs he played on guitar, and I smiled like an idiot.

Several months went by, and we talked nearly every evening. He told me how his dad was planning to buy him a new guitar if he didn't go to his prom. I thought that was interesting, and almost-kinda-sorta-not-jokingly asked if he would go if I could go with him. His immediate yes caught me off-guard and I almost chickened out, but I asked my mom if she would let me go. She said yes. At the end of April I flew to Michigan with my mom. I went on my first date that weekend. We got ice cream and walked down a pier by a lighthouse. And it was exciting. And I was unaware of the significance that whole trip would hold for me when I would reminisce years later.

We dated as much as two kids can date when you're over 600 miles apart and still in high school. We've only spoken a handful of times since we broke up, and he got married a few years ago.

Looking back, I can see that was my first taste of how intoxicating it feels to know that someone you care about likes you back. I'd have a couple minor brushes with that feeling throughout the years, and some moments I dared to think that it could last, but that was the first time it lingered. There are a lot of firsts in life we don't actually pause to realize are happening.

First job. First car. First college acceptance letter. First address away from home. First all-night study session. First passing-out experience at the end of your first all-night study session. First time getting your heart broken. First holiday spent alone with ravioli and wine. First speeding ticket. First broken windshield. First flat tire. First argument with an employer. First "maybe I'll cave and go see a doctor because these headaches won't stop" moment. First panic attack because people will move on and live their life without you in it. First...

First.

Firsts become lasts and we hardly notice.

What can you do? Nobody ever said living life or finding love would be easy. Nobody said you'd get it right on the first try. Sometimes it sucks and you hurt people, or they hurt you, or you hurt each other. Sometimes, you get scared of the hurt. You don't want to hurt anybody else and you don't ever want to get close enough to someone that they can hurt you. So when you start to like someone new, you stomp out those pesky feelings and emotions before they can go anywhere.

Because the lesson you've learned is that you don't know what you're doing, and probably never will. And you have a tendency of messing things up because you try too hard not to.

Lesson learned. Stop those first feelings.

Lesson learned. Inhale independence, and expel the butterflies taking up lodging in your abdomen.

Then, as you finally have a controlled grip on your emotions...

Lesson lear.... wait, what lesson?