This Is Not What I Signed Up For

"This is not what I signed up for." Raise your hand if you've been saying THAT for the last year and half. Maybe longer? (Guilty)


Honestly, I think this has been my mantra for MUCH LONGER than I'd like to admit. I watched the business I'd spent 11 years building crash and burn in the wake of 2020. As a mother I found myself led to choose between my family and my work. Somehow, it was the easiest and hardest choice I've made all rolled into a giant dumpster fire of emotion and chaos.

So I did what any sane person would do in this situation, I started a new business and named it exactly what I was feeling: "This Is Not What I Signed Up For, LLC." 

This was a real "phoenix rising from the ashes" moment for me, but it sure didn't come easily. There were some rage tears, genuine fear, major self-doubt, and full on pouting before I knew this business HAD to happen. Confession: I'm not (usually) a drama or "feelings" gal. Thanks, 2020. I'm actually a little Spock-like. I mean feelings? Shudder. It's a Type-A control thing for sure, but it's who I am. 

I knew this business had to happen because I've worked with people who have been in some sort of pain, physical, mental or spiritual for over 15 years and you know what, none of them "signed up" for their crap either. No one wants to suffer. I've heard patients and clients refer to life or them selves in so many disparaging ways. 

Hot mess. 
Dumpster fire.
*Bleep* Show
Failure to launch.
Epic Fail.

As a holistic mental health specialist and pastoral counselor, I have a passion for helping people find balance in every aspect of their lives: mind, body, heart, and soul. Each area affects the other. For optimum health and wellness, we need to pay attention to them all. If you're feeling overwhelmed, this business, this blog, this site was made for you.

Like you, I have felt like Luke, Leia, and Han Solo in the trash compactor scene of Star Wars more times than I can count. Walls closing in, up to my neck in garbage, watching the life I knew get squeezed into oblivion from all directions.


Building this new business and creating the content made me take a good look in the mirror. Yikes. I realized how important it was that I was living what I was preaching and teaching to the people who trusted me with their care. It because clear to me immediately that my inner monologue is not unlike the well-researched albeit constant doomsday ramblings of C-3PO. I whine. I worry. I overthink. I overanalyze. I am all about focusing on problems and not blessings or solutions.

When my mind shuts up long enough for my faith to kick in (and thank God it does) it is like R2D2, quietly and calmly working in the background. While I agonize God has kept our family safe, financially stable, and mentally stable (sort of) since all the COVID mishegoss started and long beforehand. This is my God. Powerful. Reliable. Ever present.

Still, sometimes I still worry. I wring my hands. I stare at the ceiling at 3am. 

I said I had faith, I didn't say it made me smarter. Curse you, neurons!

My job has always been listening to others talk about their most private struggles. Now, I want to turn over a new leaf and join you in the vulnerability of sharing. I'm a parent too and I'm in this with you.

I hope all of this has makes me more compassionate and trusting. I hope that I'm learning to worry less and pray more. I hope I can remember that worrying is like spinning your tires in the mud, it looks like you're doing something, but you aren't getting anywhere. (Maybe I should rewatch My Cousin Vinny)

Hey, I'm a work in progress, people.

Not a person of faith? No problem. This isn't a sneaky conversation message, although my faith walk has been one of immeasurable blessing. This is simply my story of how this past year or so has shaped up. I'd love to hear about yours. What have you learned? How are you stronger? What have you learned to live without or appreciate more? Whatever your story and I would love to hear it, I can only speak to my own experience. 

Here's what I learned: my inner monologue is the freakin' worst. 

The W-O-R-S-T. 

Think of the most insufferable boss, friend, relative, or relationship you've ever had all rolled into one and they are constantly talking...

In. Your. Head.

Where does your strength to survive the trash compactors of life come from? I hope somewhere in your life you are uplifted, loved, encouraged, and valued. I hope it starts with you. I hope you offer it to others.  

In this season of life, my strength has come from leaning on my faith more than my mind (the struggle is real), connecting with a community of faith, reinvigorating old friendships, writing, spending more time with my immediate family, and appreciating our homestead with new eyes.

Wherever your faith, strength, and resilience comes from, I hope it is a source of quiet, reliable comfort. I hope you'll find some of that here. We could all use a little less C-3PO and more R2D2 in our lives. 

Frankly, I could just use a droid to clean the bathrooms. (Send help, seriously.)

Until then, may the force be with you. You know, as long as it's not from the last year and a half, because that force has some seriously funky Juju. Just sayin'.



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