Help for Choosing Joy

For those of us who struggle with depression or who have been through trials understand that just choosing joy is not as easy as it sounds. We are told that the way to have joy is just to choose it. Quit thinking about the negative and focus on the positive: "Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things" (Philippians 4:8 NLT). I can tell you that in the early days of each trial or on days when my depression is at a high level, just choosing joy is an impossibility. Thinking about things that are true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, and/or praiseworthy is not possible when depression or sadness rears their ugly heads.

I wish that choosing joy was as easy as thinking about good things. How I wish it with every fiber of my being.

The truth is that there much more to choosing joy than just anything.

There is clear psychological evidence that we can re-train our brains to move from pessimistic thinking to optimistic, but that re-training does not happen over-night or even with the very first optimistic thought. We must work hard, with great intentionality to be able to re-focus our thinking from the negative to the positive. 

Even doing the work, being intentional does not mean always having success in re-training our thinking. There will be set-backs throughout the process. There will be many difficult periods of time. There will be moments when allowing the sadness to consume us feels safer than taking even one more step towards choosing joy becomes as natural as breathing.

If we want to have true joy, though, if we want to be able to choose joy regardless, then we must intentionally re-train our brains. We can only that in, through, and with God and the power of His Holy Spirit in our lives. We must make Him a priority, the priority. 

We make the Lord our priority by:

1. Reading His Word. But not just reading it, studying it, living it, making it as much a part of our daily lives as eating. It does not really matter when we read the Bible (although many Bible scholars like to argue that the best time is first thing/early in the morning); what matters the most is that we spend time in the Word every single day.

2. Being grateful. One source after another that I have read over the past many years discusses the truth that gratitude is the gateway to joy. It is not an easy thing to find something to be grateful for in the midst of our severest trials in life. I know that I was not even thankful that I was alive during the first several months (and long after) we lost our James Isaac. And again with each subsequent loss over the years. Little by little, one item at a time, I began finding very real things to be grateful for: my parents, my sister, my brother, my in-laws, other family members including my extended family, my doctors and nurses and other medical staff, a soft blanket to wrap up in, a beautiful sunset, snow. . . .Eventually my ability to find anything to be grateful for outgrew my ability to keep track. I continue to be grateful.

3. Worshiping the Lord. One of the greatest ways we can re-train our brains to focus on the Lord rather than our circumstances is to worship the Lord. It has been called a "sacrifice" of praise for a reason; if you have been where I have been, you know exactly how much of a sacrifice it is to praise the Lord--to choose joy. But with every note, with every word, we move forward into God's truth.

4. Praying. Pray without ceasing. Tell God everything. Leave out nothing--not one single thought or feeling even if we are ashamed of it. God can take it. If we are angry; we admit it. Tell Him. Shout it from the rooftops if we must. Be honest with the Lord when we have come to the end of our rope and we simply cannot take even one more tragedy. (Yes, we can have more in our lives than we can handle. Study the scripture carefully, 1 Corinthians 10:13.) Tell Him exactly what is going on; tell Him exactly how you feel; tell Him when you want to end it all; call out to Him. Just pray.

5. Not being alone. Until you are able to re-train your brain, I recommend that you are rarely, if ever, alone. Surround yourself with other Believers especially those who pray with you, support you, and love you unconditionally. Avoid those who seem to want to spout platitudes, including Bible verses, in a vain attempt to help you feel better. Spend time with those who will allow you to grieve, to feel whatever you feel with zero judgment. Tell these friends what you need; they have no idea how to help, so they need you to tell them what you need and how they can help.

6. Keep waking up. Keep getting up. Keep doing something even if it is just one something every single day. Every one thing to help re-train your brain to choose joy rather than focus on the negative does help. When we just can't do even that one more thing, say His name--say the name of Jesus. There is power in the name of Jesus.

So much of what I write in my book Joy Actions speaks to specific actions we can take to help us choose joy--to help us find joy. Other authors, worship leaders, pastors, counselors, and the list goes on are available to help you be intentional regarding choosing joy. Use the resources you have. God has given them to us for a reason. Don't be like the person in the old story about the one who is trapped in a flood and, in spite of someone coming in a car, then a boat, and even a helicopter, keeps saying that God will save him. Open your eyes to see that God wants to save you; He is sending you everything you need.

"And Elisha prayed, “Open his eyes, Lord, so that he may see.” Then the Lord opened the servant’s eyes, and he looked and saw the hills full of horses and chariots of fire all around Elisha." (2 Kings 6:17 NLT)

Helping even 1.60th

When I read this quote in #MargaretFeinberg's book #tasteandsee, Chapter 5: "A Dash of Sea Salt" (p. 114), I found myself having to stop and re-read it and then underline it and then share it on Facebook and then talk about it with my Sunday School ladies and now write about it here. My brain just won't let it go.

Thinking about how I can help take someone else's pain even just 1/60th can make a difference and how that is "the call to help from God" Himself is no small thing, my friends. We are all inspired by stories of kindness, aren't we? I hope we are. I get frustrated because there are so many other stories that aren't getting recognized, but that's not why we help one another, right? We do it because we feel that tug in our spirit--that "call to help from God."

When I think about all the trials and struggles I have been through and the things that others have done for me to help ease my pain, I know they felt the "call to help from God" because they sure eased my 1/60th and then some.

Once, after one of my miscarriages, a friend and her daughter brought a whole meal for my husband and me from Bojangles because she knew how much I liked their food.

A friend went with me to a couple of my appointments to listen to my son's heartbeat--non-stress tests--during my only viable pregnancy because my husband was unable to go with me. She chose to go with me rather than sleep during her hours of sleep time; she worked 3rd shift.

When I was in the hospital at death's door, I almost constantly had

someone sitting with me: friends, family, loved ones. Some drove from four hours away. Some came from across town. I was passed out and barely knew they were in the room, but they came and sat with me and prayed over me anyway. And when I finally came home, they were there to provide meals and to help me with my recovery in a thousand different ways. Back at work, my co-workers took over my classes without question and never bothered me or made me feel guilty for having to be out for two months sick. In fact, I'm sure there are things that people did for me during that time that I'll never know about simply because I was so sick. But God knows and each and every one helped that 1/60th ease my suffering.

Over the past year, after leaving my beloved, cherished, treasured job, I have had many people hug me, hold me, sit with me, hold my hand, listen to me, let me vent, let me cry, walk with me and talk with me. People have helped financially.

All of these could add up 60/60ths to ease my pain.

I wish, but at least each has helped ease 1/60th.

And the list goes on and on.

I wish I could list every single person who has hugged me and helped that 1/60th with his/her arms of love.

Or the students I have met as I have been out and about town who have provided words of encouragement that have given me another 1/60th of easement.

You know, we read books and we read books and we move on and may never think about the books we read again. If I get nothing else from this book (and believe me, I've already enjoyed the rest of it immensely), Taste and See is well worth reading.

Every single book I have ever read by Margaret Feinberg has had a powerful impact on me and on my life in some way, shape, form, or fashion. I am not praising her, necessarily; I am praising her obedience to our Lord and Savior for writing and sharing what is on her heart. In this chapter in which she is writing about how even helping ease someone's burden 1/60th is a call from God, Margaret is talking about how we are the "salt of the earth": we are to go help preserve, flourish, and flavor the earth--those around us as Believers of Jesus Christ. How do we do that? By sharing one another's burdens even if in doing so, we are only able to do so a tiny bit: 1/60th.

My easement, call of God, of others' burdens, I believe, is to share my JOY in whatever way I possibly can: my words, hugs, laughter, etc.

What is your 1/60th?

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