Muffins

Last year, we discovered I have celiac disease along with a bunch of food allergies. For the most part I've adapted and just move forward in life. I'm not one to dwell on what cannot be. Instead, I'll read everything I can get my hands on to really understand the situation and how to make it as ideal as possible. Once we discovered two of my children also have celiac disease, the ante was upped even more. I spend a good deal of my time trying new recipes and tweaking them to our needs/tastes. I've been very blessed by a merciful Father in Heaven, who knows my love of food, to be able to help my family move forward on this journey.

I've always had a serious weak spot for muffins though. And so far, I just haven't found a good homemade recipe. Honestly, I don't need muffins, and to heal my gut, I need to stay away from them. But last week when I came home from a meeting, my sweet hubby was just pulling some out of the oven. Oh the smell!!!!!!!!!!!! I looked around and processed the situation and quickly realized that these were not gluten free muffins.

I did my best to be cheerful. After all, it hadn't just been months since I had eaten any... it's been months for them as well. All my focus has been on GF food, and so the other 1/2 of my family has suffered in a different way; all of a sudden, the baker mom, who was obsessed with good desserts and dinners, wasn't making any of that anymore. So I was in no way upset or hurt that they were eating them. I was happy for them! I even felt bad that I hadn't made them any. But inside, it struck a chord. One of those slap-across-the-face-just-to-remind-you-of-what-you-can't-have-chords. It had nothing to do with them. It was just one of those days. I had just come from a meeting where numerous women were all enjoying muffins and brownies as a ploy to get them to come to the meeting in the first place. I was hungry. And it all looked good.

I didn't really feel sorry for myself. But it was a reality check. Just a harsh reminder that my life has changed for the rest of my life. Not just some diet I'm on. Nope. This is life.

My sweet husband, oh how I love that man! He read me like an open book, lovingly took me in his arms, and spent the next twenty minutes with me letting me know how much he loves me. He put all his focus into how I must feel, and that meant the world to me. It was a very tender twenty minutes, just to have someone love for and care about me that much, especially over muffins.

The next Sunday was Mother's Day. I was instructed to stay in bed. I can only eat a few things, so I fully expected either Rice Chex cereal, chicken and fruit, or a vegan protein shake from my sweet kiddos (which, btw, I would've been happy with any of them, because they were from my babies!). But I was surprised with much, much more! Kyle helped the kids (he had been at work that morning but got home earlier than expected) make sausage, hashbrowns, and GF muffins from a box mix I didn't realize we still had! Those muffins! An icon of love, of compassion, of meaning that much to someone that he would make me muffins. It may sound silly, but I'm crying as I write this. He KNEW how much it would mean to me AND he did it! (He does that all the time btw, but I've just been a little emotional lately with my thyroid being off again). I can't really put it into words. I guess it's just so incredible to be the one being loved and served the way I try to for everyone else. Because it is so much more than muffins.

Needed, Not Wanted

I don't know if it's just my personal trial in life or if it's one of an introvert, but all my life I'm one of those "needed, not wanted" kind of friends. Yes, I do have my very few besties that love me for me, and I am beyond grateful for them. But I'm an infj, a pleaser, a middle child, and service is my love language. If you add these together, you get an insecure, pleasing maniac who wants to make the world a better place and help everyone around them. I've spent most of my life trying to understand people and myself, and I'm eternally grateful for what I've learned so far. It's helped me mature a bit. It's also helped me realize that other people can't be my "center" value (read Steven R. Covey for explanation). And since then, I'm not nearly as vulnerable as I used to be. I deal with a lot of things a whole lot better than I ever could before.

But every once in a while, I run into a situation where I'm reminded that I am needed, not necessarily wanted. I'm the friend you really do need, because I will be your last defender til my very death. I will watch you til I learn your needs, and I will work persistently to not only meet them, but to anticipate them. I will keep your secrets and your honor. You will always be in my thoughts.

But I find that most people don't realize that's what they need. They look for what they want. And an infj, pleaser, middle child, service lover is never first pick. I'm the constant. Not the fun. I'm they "hey, will you...." not the, "hey, you want to..." friend. For the most part I'm fine with it. I love my friends, and after all, that is what makes up who am I and therefore, I'm being authentic.

But every once in a while, a rare while, mind you, the situation is just right, or maybe my emotions are just vulnerable that day. And on those days, I feel very used. And needed. But not wanted.

Dear Extrovert,

I love my extroverted friends! They are the life of our friendship, and the magnet that gives me courage. Their view, their confidence, it amazes me and strengthens me.

I remember one of my first extrovert friends, Lilly. She was always joking. She loved life and she always had me laughing. Sometimes she took it too far and then she'd tell me to lighten up. It'd sting a little as I worked through the emotion, because I thought it must be something wrong with my fundamentally. But the more time I spent with her, the more I did learn to laugh at myself.

My husband is an introvert, but an absolutely hilarious man. And the longer we are married and the more comfortable we are with one another, the more we have learned the power of humor. I've come to steadily rely on his ability to bring me out of my serious zone.

Three of my besties are extroverts. I only have a few best friends. Four, in fact. And my hubby is the only introvert of them all. All the girlies are extroverts, and I love them all for it. They are my go to gals. They give me courage to make jokes and not fear offending the other person. The lighten my serious side and give me courage to see things a different way that my rigid, strict rule following self. And they are the only people that, if invited, I not only drop everything on a dime to be with them, but want to!!

I have other friends that I absolutely love. They are amazing people and it's fun to hang out with them. But here in lies the lesson to be had: don't invite an introvert last minute! I need mental time to prepare for an upcoming event. And the bigger it is, the more I have to work through my social anxiety. I hate telling you no because I hate feeling like I've let you down or hurt your feelings. But the quickest way to throw me into panic mode (besides me realizing I didn't do something I said I'd do), is to not invite in advance! I love to invite, I love feeling loved/wanted/needed (hmmm.. That social acceptance is a post for another day).. But if you want my full self, and if you could see how it drains me afterwards, and how I have to hide and breathe and think and relive and then listen to the most soothing music for hours on end, you would know why I beg of you, my dear, life living/loving, outgoing, in the moment friend, I need a little more advance notice than 10 minutes. Or even an hour. Or even a day. At least give me two or three. And then make me feel welcome and comfortable when I show up and I'll love you forever!

It's Not You.... Really!

I become downright paralyzed at the thought of confrontation. And unfortunately, most things feel like confrontation! Not because there is any indication of it; it's just that I am scared to death of hurting your feelings. I've spent most of my life doing things with/for other people that I didn't want to do, or came at such an inconvenient time, but fearing rejection and confrontation, I did them anyway. (And don't get me wrong, most of the time it's things I do want to do!).

Now I know better; at least, I'm learning. Years of not knowing it was social anxiety I was dealing with, I would hide in my bedroom or the bathtub, desperate to escape and recharge. Only once in my life was it so severe that I had the constant contemplation of running away for a few weeks.

I've been blessed with a love of learning, and I will forever be grateful for all the knowledge I've been blessed to stumble upon in the last two years. It has been eye opening and sometimes painful. But also liberating! I feel that the window I always gazed out of has transformed into a door I can walk through.

And now I know it's not you.... It's me. I know I have to be honest, although I'm going to find the easiest way in the world to break it to you. Because I can't say no. But I have to. I need to. I can't do it all, and that doesn't make me less of a person either. It's not selfish to make sure my own cup is full before trying to fill another's. Because I can't share what I don't have.

So when the guilt sets in, don't let it set and harden, but face the emotion of why you're feeling that way head on. Work through it. Live it. And then let it go. Xoxo

Moments

My best friend is an author. And a dang good one at that. I feel incredibly privileged to get to be her wanna-be editor. There's something about grammar that moves me, haha.

But what I really want to write about it is the power of words. How one little sentence, words strung together just right, can move the soul. There is something powerful in a phrase that rings true with the soul. When characters, who have become living, breathing souls to us, have incredible moments of vulnerability, rawness, and authenticity. Not only do we love them all the more for it, but we love ourselves more, too. Sometimes it's the way something is phrased that puts into words the things in our hearts. And sometimes it is their words that put into understanding what a loved one has been trying to tell us. And all of a sudden, we believe. We trust. That what is real on paper is also real in life. That we really are loved, or special, or needed. That we really do make a difference or are capable. That we really are good people.

And that makes me love that book, those characters, all the more.

First Post

This blog is for me. Heidi. Simple. A writer at heart. A keeper of thoughts. Unpolished. Raw. Authentic. Perhaps someone in the world will stumble upon it one day and enjoy the random thoughts of my soul. But that is not my intent or purpose. It's purpose is for me. To find a lost part of myself. A part that used to sit and write introspections and solve the world's problems and consistently try to better myself through reflection. But in the life of kids and just mortality, I found a need to better myself by putting it into practice. Which is good, hands on experience. But now it's time to merge the two ends of the spectrum and meet in the middle. For what good is intentions without courage? What good is courage and ability without a purpose? And so, amidst my insanely busy life, I hope to find the balance between the two, and write.

Welcome to the Confessions of an Introvert!