Launch Day for JOY ACTIONS!!

Wow. The day is FINALLY here! My book Joy Actions is finally ready to be read by an audience! I am beyond excited, nervous, full of joy, and scared out of my mind! LOL. This book has been a true labor of love from start to finish, not just in the writing of it, but especially in the living of it. My prayer warriors and I have been praying over it and we continue to do so. My heartfelt prayer is that it will bless those who read it and point them to my Jesus. 

While I am excited beyond measure, the whole month of March, especially March 16 & 17, is difficult. Twenty-one years may have passed since we first heard the words, "There's no heartbeat," but these are the days when it feels as if every year, every month, every day, every hour, every minute, every second of the past 21 years fall away as if they were nothing. My heart aches even while it soars to new heights.

Yes, I have written a book about joy--choosing joy, but that does not mean that doing so is easy or that it has been easy over the years. I have days when I am easily able to choose joy when I see God's glory in every speck of dust. But during the month of March, I have days when choosing joy is more challenging than holding my breath for longer than a few seconds.

While the rest of the world is focused on this coronavirus and all that is going on with it, all I can think about is how twenty-one years ago, I was lying in a hospital wondering why in the world I had to deliver my baby who was already silent. And I'm excited about the fact that my very first book is published and available for mass reading. 

*sigh*

I hope that you will pray for me especially during this difficult time. 

I hope that you will pray for my book to a blessing to all who read it.

I also hope that you will buy my book and read it! 

Much love to all,
PollyAnna Joy

Joy Actions is available both with and without illustrations (by Jan Lindie) and in a Kindle version: https://smile.amazon.com/Joy-Actions-PollyAnna/dp/1710720301/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=Joy+Actions&qid=1584400511&sr=8-1

I am Defined by...Part 2

I am Defined by...Part 1

I am Polly Anna. My parents named me perfectly. According to Eleanor H. Porter's Pollyanna, a Pollyanna is someone who looks for the good in life--someone who finds something to be Glad about even when it is difficult, if not impossible, to find something to be Glad about. Pollyanna is known for playing "The Glad Game." Yes, it is very high on my list of favorite book of all time.

According to the "Word Origin and History for Pollyanna": "n.

one who finds cause for gladness in the most difficult situations," 1921, a reference to Pollyanna Whittier, child heroine of U.S. novelist Eleanor Hodgman Porter's "Pollyanna" (1913) and "Pollyanna Grows Up" (1915), who was noted for keeping her chin up during disasters.
http://www.dictionary.com/browse/pollyanna?s=t

A few synonyms for a Pollyanna are: dreamer, hoper, positive thinker.

The American definition of Pollyanna is actually very offensive: "an excessively or blindly optimistic person." I do not identify with the American definition of Pollyanna in the slightest, but I will say that this is why I believe that so many people are so easily put off by me. Having the anointing oil of joy more than anyone else is a heavy responsibility. One of the most difficult reasons why it is a heavy responsibility is because it means that many are easily offended by my "excessive or blind optimism." But I can't answer for anyone but myself. I am who I am. I am who God made me, not just the name my parents gave me.

I am not only Polly Anna in name--on my birth certificate and in my signature, but I am a Polly Anna in every fiber of my being. I am one who finds cause for gladness in difficult situations. I am a dreamer, hoper, positive thinker. I do play the Glad Game. I do look for the good in people and situations. I live life enthusiastically and with JOY. I love to laugh. I love to make others laugh. I love to smile. I smile for no reason whatsoever. I love to sing just to sing because I'm happy!

"I sing because I'm happy! I sing because I'm free!"
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5QbNh6C7ijU

I tend to be the one who gets a tad overly-excited about the little things--who squeals like a stuffed pig when I'm excited. A sweet friend took me with her to Washington, DC several years ago and, of course, we went to the National Zoo where we got to see my very favorite animal in the whole wide world: pandas! Yes, I screamed, squealed, cried, and screamed some more! My friend finally walked away and went to find a seat where she waited--patiently, I think--for me. She still teases me about it. When my husband took me to Zoo Atlanta a few years later, my reaction was similar. I think my screaming and crying for joy actually scared a few people. I honestly started screaming and hyperventilating before we even got to the Panda-paddock. My husband wasn't sure I'd even make it to see the pandas!

I try to go see movies in the theater during slower movie times because when I watch a movie, I WATCH a movie. I laugh loud. I cry--loud. If it's a musical, I sing--loud. (I even whisper loud.) Some people laugh along with me and get a kick out of my enjoyment of the film--and we all have a very good time. Others get really upset and tell me that I am ruining the movie for them and ask me to be quiet. I honestly don't mean to be rude or ruin their experience. I simply enjoy can't help it. Honest!

Yes, I am loud. That, too, is very much a part of Polly Anna. I do try. I really do. I respect those around me so very much who are able to speak quietly yet metaphorically carry a big stick. I think that is awesome. What an incredible power to wield! I speak very loudly and carry a toothpick. Seriously. And it's a blunt toothpick, not one of those sharp ones. Even my whispering is loud. When I was little, my Grandpa Keefer was always telling me, "Not so loud, Polly." Every so often, as an adult teacher, I've had teachers from the classroom next door come over and say, "Not so loud, Mrs. Watson." 

It does hurt my feelings, a lot, to be told over and over that I am too loud, especially when I do try not to be so loud. But even when I try to speak in a softer, quieter voice, it comes out loud and strong and clear. It simply bursts forth out of me--almost of its own volition.

And I talk a lot. A lot a lot. Throughout my school days, I always did very well and had very good reports to bring home to my parents. The only comment that was ever on my reports was, "Polly talks too much." The only reason I ever got in trouble in school was for talking. Teachers would try to move me across the room away from my friends, never realizing that I would just make friends with the new people--if I wasn't already friends with them. I talked to everyone: boys, girls, teachers, myself, my hairbrush. And I still do.

I am also a touchie-feelie kind of person. I like to stand close enough to be touching the person I am talking to, or sitting close. I will typically touch the person--on the hand, arm, shoulder, face, or head. If I am close to the person (a family member or very close friend, I may rub the underside of her upper arm or her back). And I hug--any and everyone who will let me hug him/her. I love hugs. My Grandpa Keefer was a hugger; everyone loved his hugs. When we were all sitting around after his death, everyone talked about how wonderful his hugs were. I want to be remembered for my hugs, too.

As I have gotten older, all of the previous characteristics have continued to define me. No matter how hard I have tried to dampen the ones that have gotten me into trouble, they continue to get me into trouble. Yet, I am Polly Anna and I love that part of who I am. It is my favorite part of myself. I truly wish that part of myself could and would always manifest itself--be manifested on a day-to-day basis.

But like Pollyanna in the story, my life has not been perfect. I almost wish that the worst thing that has ever happened to me would be to fall out of a tree and not be able to walk. (I don't mean that. I'm speaking metaphorically here.) Like Pollyanna Harrington, I have had many times in my life when it has been beyond difficult to play "The Glad Game"--to be Polly Anna. 

    In my twenties while my husband and I were living in Springfield, MO, I fell into a deep depression that I found it very difficult to come out of even after we had moved back to NC. I think I stayed in at least a state of mild depression until I got pregnant with our first son.
    During my pregnancy when we had the first ultrasound, it revealed a large mass on my left ovary. After a few weeks, they did another ultrasound and discovered that the mass had grown a centimeter for every week that had passed since the first ultrasound. The doctor decided that he needed to do a surgery right away--I was at 20 weeks--to remove the mass as well as my ovary and part of the fallopian tube. All was well with our baby boy.
    On March 16, 1999, I went to the OB for my regular weekly appointment, excited about the final weeks of my pregnancy. I was at 38 weeks. They couldn't find a heartbeat. James Isaac Watson was stillborn on March 17, 1999.
    Then on November 10, 1999, I miscarried: Panya Ruth Watson.
    Anna Rose Watson was miscarried while I was on campus at the college where I teach on November 22, 2005.
    I think depression is a given.
    My marriage went down the tubes.
    In November 2009, at death's door, I had to have an ostomy bag

for three months. In April 2010, it was reversed and the doctor removed eight inches of my colon.
    Then, in November of 2010, I had a uterine ablasion because of vaginal bleeding due to a polyp.
    I don't remember the year, but somewhere in there, I had a meltdown where I might have killed James if he hadn't left the house. 
    During that same time period, I had a boss who had it in for me and was determined to have me fired. 
    I began seeing a chiropractor and a massage therapist.
    I had my first official anxiety attack and began taking medicine specifically for anxiety.
    I also began taking medicine for depression--eventually going up to 100 mg.
    Migraines have been a consistent problem throughout all this time. I have been able to keep them managed--mostly--with Excedrine Migraine.
    In December of 2016, I had my gall bladder removed.
    Summer of 2017, I was officially diagnosed with fibromyalgia.
    I was written up at work in October 2017 and the very next day, I yelled at my boss.
    In December 2017, I was diagnosed with:
            Bipolar 2
            PTSD
            Adjustment Disorder

All of these things make Polly Anna who Polly Anna is. Do you have any idea what it's like to be a super social person but yet full of anxiety when you even think about social situations, so you more often than not cancel social functions? Most of the time, if I somehow or another get to the social event, I have a wonderful time; I enjoy myself very much and I think that the people who socialize are glad that I was there. 

But then there are the very few times when being amongst others is so overwhelming that I have literally run from the party, jumped in my car, and screamed the whole way home. 

There have been times when the negative comments about my exuberance or my loudness or my enthusiasm have hurt my feelings so badly that I have gone home, sat in my spot on the couch, and not moved for days, weeks, and even months except to go to work or church. And I did those with little to no enthusiasm or desire to be there. 

I have become so angry because of the hurtful comments that I took to saying things like "I'd like to punch [...] in the throat." I wrote several stories about serial killing. (Granted, I honestly they're actually pretty good stories about serial killing, but I used myself as the model for the serial killer in each story.) I was holding a baby once and when he grabbed my glasses off my face after slapping me, I was so close to hurting him, I put him down and ran away. 

I have terrible "temper tantrums." I have recently learned that these are part of the Bipolar diagnosis and are called "manic rages." They can come as quickly as they go and there is rarely a rhyme or a reason for them. I have mostly been able to keep them under control in public, especially at my work, but that has not been easy. If I am successful there, then the rage has to be released somewhere and that, sadly, tends to be at home on my husband and/or son.

Yet, through it all, I continue to seek JOY. I know that I still have the anointing oil of JOY on me more than anyone else. I still live life with enthusiasm. I still smile a lot, laugh a lot, sing a lot, hug a lot. Some of it is because it's still me--Polly Anna--underneath all the "stuff" that has happened over the past 30 years, but some of it is the mask I have created for when it is simply too difficult to BE me, but yet I need to be Polly Anna. Several years ago, around 2009, in fact, God gave me Psalm 45:7: 

I knew as soon as I read that verse that He meant it for me, as a special Word from Him to me, that His Holy Spirit was speaking directly to my very soul. In that moment, God anointed me, pouring out the oil of Joy on me more than on anyone else. It is a heavy responsibility that I do NOT take lightly or for granted.

Every single detail I have mentioned throughout here makes me who I am today--makes me the Polly Anna I am today, December 21, 2017, at 47 years old. A part of me wishes that none of the bad stuff had ever happened. But then I am reminded that God more often than not uses those who have struggled greatly. 1 Peter 1 says: "⁶ So be truly glad. There is wonderful joy ahead, even though you must endure many trials for a little while. ⁷ These trials will show that your faith is genuine. It is being tested as fire tests and purifies gold—though your faith is far more precious than mere gold. So when your faith remains strong through many trials, it will bring you much praise and glory and honor on the day when Jesus Christ is revealed to the whole world." Almost every single Hero of the Faith whether in the Bible or someone we know historically experienced great trials, tribulations, and suffering. Paul talks about how he asked God three separate times to take the thorn of suffering from his side, but God refuses. Paul accepts the inevitable saying that he is glad, thankful for his weakness because it is in his weakness that he is made strong in Christ (2 Corinthians 12). 

Maybe, just maybe, like Paul, I have these thorns so that in my

weakness, I am only made strong through Jesus Christ my Savior.


And then we go back to 2 Corinthians which reminds us that: "God

is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. ⁴ He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.⁵ For the more we suffer for Christ, the more God will shower us with his comfort through Christ. ⁶ Even when we are weighed down with troubles, it is for your comfort and salvation! For when we ourselves are comforted, we will certainly comfort you. Then you can patiently endure the same things we suffer. ⁷ We are confident that as you share in our sufferings, you will also share in the comfort God gives us." In other words, not only do all my trials help define me, but they are also meant to be used to help comfort others. God HAS comforted me through all my trials; He continues to comfort me through them. My "job" (if you will allow me to use that term) is to comfort others who have experienced similar trials. 

Maybe, just maybe, others will see me--hear my story or ready my story and find comfort in it because, in spite of it all, because of it all, in it all, through it all, IT IS WELL.

It is well with my soul. I may have mental illnesses and physical disabilities and character traits that drive others crazy. I may be different from the vast majority of the people I know and come into contact with. You may not understand why I smile. You may not understand why I smile at you. 

That's ok.

Because I am Polly Anna. When I die, I hope it can and will be said of me: 

Polly Anna: She sure was!

Polly Anna

Pollyanna vs. Joy-Killers

noun

1.  an excessively or blindly optimistic person.

adjective

2.  (often lowercase). Also, Pollyannaish. unreasonably or illogically optimistic (www.dictionary.com)

In doing some research recently for my memoir, I looked up the dictionary definition of my name and was unpleasantly surprised at what I found:  “excessively,” “unreasonably,” and “illogically” optimistic?!  Seriously?  Such negative connotations in reference to optimism!  What in the world?  My very first reaction was that I was—and am—greatly offended by the dictionary definition.  My second reaction is that somehow or another I have to find a way to get in touch with whoever creates these definitions and begin a petition to get the definition changed.  My third reaction is that it is no wonder there are so many joy-stealers/joy-killers around me.  Rather than seeing optimism as a positive or good thing, people are conditioned even through definitions to see optimism as something negative.  So when someone comes along with a “glass half-full” view of life, said person is ridiculed and condemned for not seeing reality, for being “unreasonably” optimistic. 

All my life I have dealt with joy-killers.  It feels as if every time I have felt any measure of joy in my life, there has been someone waiting to make sure that I know how ridiculous it is for me to feel such joy.  There has always been someone to bring me down out of the clouds and help me plant my feet firmly on the ground.  In spite of stories like The Neverending Story that teach that it is perfectly okay to dream and live in another world, someone is always there, waiting to crush my spirit.

I imagine myself—and other optimists like me—walking through life holding a giant bouquet of large, helium-filled balloons.  (Think of the movie Up and you’ll come close to the number of balloons I see in this bouquet.)  My balloons are gorgeous.  They are all colors, but there are more pinks and purples than the rest because they are my favorite color.  Not only are they all colors, they are all variations of colors and some even sparkle with a few that glow.  My bouquet is magical and it lifts me up into the clouds on wings of joy.

Along comes a joy-killer with a bow and a quiver full of arrows. 

This joy-killer sees me in the clouds with my amazing balloon bouquet and immediately lets an arrow fly, popping at least a dozen of my balloons with one shot.  The joy-killer doesn’t stop there.  No.  The joy-killer won’t be satisfied until every single balloon is popped and I am back with my feet planted firmly on the ground.

As my balloons pop, I plummet towards the earth.  When I land, I hit hard, breaking bones, bruising parts of my body I wasn’t even aware could be bruised.  Not one balloon survived.  I am surrounded by broken pieces of my once beautiful balloon bouquet.  The sorrow and sadness well up in me to the point of pure rage, but the joy-killer is strutting around demanding to acknowledgment and thanks for having saved me—rather than having harmed me.

No one helps me up.  A few around me feel sorry to see my beautiful bouquet destroyed, but they all believe that the joy-killer has saved me.

Only I know how destructive the joy-killer's arrows have been.  Only I feel the aches and pains in my body.  I am alone as the sadness settles over me now as a warm, comfortable blanket.  I wrap it around myself and shuffle away, isolated and dejected.

Why?  Why is it that there are those who would rather we all walk around looking dejected rather than with smiles on our faces?  Why is it better to be sad or angry than it is to be filled with joy?  Why does the glass have to be half-empty rather than half-full?  Why does even the definition of a “Pollyanna” have to filled with such negative connotations as  “unreasonably” or “illogically” optimistic?  What in the world is so very wrong with being optimistic?

My Bible tells me to be FULL of the JOY of the Lord.  I am told in

my Bible to serve the Lord ENTHUSIASTICALLY.  (See my previous posts for the scripture references.)  Jesus himself was a man of Joy and laughter.  Jesus was also criticized for being a man of Joy and murdered upon a cross because He was full of life, love, and joy.

So go ahead and criticize me.  You go right on ahead and pop the balloons of my joy bouquet.  You go ahead and try to keep me down, bruised and broken.  Go ahead, joy-killer and knock me down.  Go right on ahead. 

Just like my Lord and Savior who rose again, I will get up again.  I will have a new, more beautiful bouquet than I had before.  My balloons will be bigger.  They will be even more colorful.  I will fly higher in the clouds on wings of joy than I did previously.  Joy-killer, you may do everything in your power to knock me down and keep me under my blanket of sadness, but I am POLLYANNA and I will throw off that blanket and take hold of my beautiful balloon bouquet and rise above you……!!!!!!

^8 “We are pressed on every side by troubles, but we are not crushed. We are perplexed, but not driven to despair. ⁹ We are hunted down, but never abandoned by God. We get knocked down, but we are not destroyed. ¹⁰ Through suffering, our bodies continue to share in the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be seen in our bodies.” (2 Corinthians 4:8-10, NLT)