A Time For Change

Its no secret that I have been unhappy lately with my life. I just didn't think I would be where I am today. I expected or hoped for so much more. Truthfully and unrealistically I expected God to give me more in my adult life because I think in a part of my subconscience I thought he owed me. I was so scared as a kid. Scared the money would run out and all those around me would be gone. I had reason to be scared, but I am no longer that scared little girl and God doesn't owe me anything. He already gave me the best gift out there - Salvation. There are people on this planet with far less than me. There are people with deeper sorrow and greater needs. Who am I that should get it all?

Its time I stop throwing a pity party and open my eyes to all I have. So each day I am going to see the haves in my life, not the have nots. I need to so I can recapture the joyess spirit I used to have. The blessing though in the pity party is that God exposed to me things about myself that I never realized or admitted. So now I can look at them realistically.

For now I can say I have:
A wonderful husband
Two beautiful stepdaughters
Great teens that God has allowed me to share life with
A job where being on the beach or on a house boat is just a day at the office :)
A beautiful house
Wonderful friends - actually some of the greatest on the planet
All body functions - legs, arms, hearing, sight, etc.
Some great side jobs to help make ends meat
A love for music and people
A running car
food in the house even when we are out of money until the next payday
DVR :)!
Lights and air on
A pool in the backyard
clothes to wear
A big wonderful family
A love of cooking and ability to put together great meals


So each day I will evaluate and recognize the positive - I'm sure I haven't had my last childlike fit, but here's to the road to recovery!

Fighting Hard

Lately I have had some pretty brutal conversations with God. Conversations I have had to apologize for - let's face it - God could easily take me out. He is someone I need to respect, but the lack of control over my life has had me in fits. Its the only thing I can do as nothing will change as a result of my complaints. God does not operate like the customer service department of a major cooperation. He is supreme and my issues are not going to change his mind. He does care about the smallest issue in my heart, but my complaints don't dictate his actions.

Life is infact a process, one I am no doubt in the middle of - while a mulligan would be nice - its more like an art project where you use the mistakes to create your masterpiece - there is no such thing as do over - it is what it is. I must go from here - no turning back, no guessing what could have been - its what might be from this point. So I've had to come to God and face what is my life. I found a great book I am currently reading which has me facing what I want to run from. I want to have a baby, a new job, and my step kids to love me. Nothing is changing. I am not pregnant and with each period I am outraged at one more month that mocks me. I am working for a church with part-time pay where the volunteer leadership team treats me with comtempt and I slave over a plethera of odd jobs to make ends meet. My 18 year old stepdaughter dispises me and spends all her time with anyone but me. She has no desire to imulate me or enjoy that which is Carrie Guy. She seeks to be as far away as humanly possible. So at the end of the day my life looks at me and laughs knowing nothing is as it should be.

So what are my choices? That is where the book comes into play because the book by Jill Briscoe called, "8 Choices That Will Change a Woman's Life." So here I am choicing pain to purify me instead of running from it like fugitive. I must accept my lot in life. I must love it and even embrace it even though all of me wants to rebel and demand a refund for the emptiness I feel. If that were an option I would have a new life by now, but instead I must allow my crappy circumstances to change me into a better person. It kinda sucks, but here I come. I know I am not alone in my steps to acceptance of what I have. There is a world out there of unhappy people. People I hope will choose with me to be better for the stuff they live that they hate. Join me in acceptance of disappointment for the purpose of happiness, will you?

Emotional Box

Sometimes I wish I could explain to people what goes on inside the shell commonly known as Carrie. There is this whole other world inside my physical being. Its filled with emotions, undescribable that exhibit behaviors, unexplainable. Tonight after seeing, My Sister's Keeper (which I cried continuously through), I started crying. The plot had left, but the emotions remained carrying a personality of its own. My husband looks at me in bewilderment unable to comprehend what is happening or what I am even crying about.

Life makes me laugh and life makes me cry. Those two things are true. While I hate the emotional rollercoaster that is my life, I completely love that my heart is open to things most people desperately try to shut out. I allow the hurts of the world to visit my heart and stay for a visit. I allow people into places of my being that even I can't comprehend. Even though at times it tries to destroy me, I love it! I love the connection with the heart of people and humanity. I love being able to see past all the junk that I encounter daily - to see past the attitudes, addictions and caustic demeanors to see the essence of being stripped of all its embellishments.

So what is it? What is the shape of the emotional playground that lives inside of me? The answer is something that only emotion itself can answer. Its something I've passed on to a friend in heart speak and no other language can translate. As I left the theatre tonight I saw a poster for a movie coming soon. The movie is a children's book I read often. I loved the book and still have it in my livingroom on the bookcase. I got in the car and called my mom, sleeping three timezones ahead of me, to tell her the news that couldn't wait til tomorrow. As I told her I cried. My heart went back and took a trip through the time and life of Carrie Messinger, now Guy. It brought back with it a flood of tears. So here I am writing them down and sharing them with you. Even though tears are currently hitting my chest as they run off my nose, I am not sad. Hard to believe, but true.

Regret Trusts Women

In one of our recent podcasts with Life Report (ProLifePodcast.net), we discussed an article called, "Trusting Women" on RHRealitycheck.org - you can read the article here and listen to that episode here. I made some comments on the podcast, but was filled with so many thoughts I found it difficult to relay them all in that moment. During the podcast, I had mentioned writing a blog in response, and decided to do so. Reading the article again, I do now believe the author is sincere in her reflections, but I do not come to the same conclusions.



Yes, at first glance holding a sign on a street corner that reads, "I Regret My Abortion" is a highly personal statement to share with the public at large. So the question to answer is, "why would she put herself out there like that?" The author states that, "in no other area of our lives are women so freely permitted or expected or encouraged to express regret, much less put it on display in the public forum." It may be the only venue women are focusing on regret, but not the only area where women are being so emotionally exposed to the general public. Follow a walk for domestic violence or a breast cancer walk and you will see passionate women speaking up about the life experiences that have dramatically affected their lives.



There is no sign that can state regret for getting breast cancer because they had no choice in the matter, but they want the facts to get out of prevention and support. Women in violence may regret partner choices even if it’s not written on a sign, and their purpose of getting out there is to let others know this is not a road to go down. The message for all three groups of women are the same. They are all in some way saying, "This is something to avoid." The women having experienced domestic violence is a much better parallel than the woman standing at a McDonald's regretting her daily calorie overdose. Overdoing it in a fast-food restaurant is a much less life-impacting choice than the choice of abortion. This is where the author of this article and I begin to part ways.



I trust women to make good choices, but I also recognize with all the messages that we encounter in our daily lives we are set up for a possible misstep in the life we desire for ourselves. I wish we lived in a world where pro-choice agencies were doing all they could to ensure women were making the right choices and keep women being forced into abortions, but countless examples, studies, and stories would show that this is not the case. Otherwise, reporters like Lila Rose, wouldn't be successful in exposing the statutory rape cover-up that is happening in numerous cases across our nation.



As a post-abortive woman I do not trust any agency offering abortions to get me all the information I need in making a choice I could live with. My personal experience has shown me this, as well as the experience of most women I have encountered, these are women not brave enough to expose their regret, only able to tell me for the first time hoping I would understand their pain from their dark secret. If women were being exposed to the truth of what abortion can do to someone after the initial flash of relief, then I would not need to hold a sign or wear a shirt that identifies my past abortion, but women aren't going to get all the information, so the burden of truth lies on me and others in the trenches.



Bottom line: I trust women to make a good choice once they have all the information to do so, but I don't trust they are getting all the information they need unless those of us who have been there can share our experiences

What Ails Me

I have been a stress case most of my life. I take on a lot and then fall under the pressure of it all. It is something I have worked on, but hasn't changed. This morning it hit me. What stresses me most and what takes me out of the game is not the stress of all I do - its the stress of expectations behind all I do. That is what I want freed from. I have no desire to say "screw the world" and hold up a middle finger to all who come across my past in an effort to push against expectation, but instead to let those expectations fall off my back instead of letting them define me. The schedule is not the problem - or maybe not the main problem, but instead the pressure to perform and get by without harsh words of those around me. The truth - I can't change the harsh words, but I can change how they affect me. This death to the people pleasing process seems to be taking forever and I wish I could be done with it yesterday, but I will keep moving forward, for I know God will see me through. I just need a transfer from what I know in my head to go into my heart so that I act out of security in Christ instead of fear. It will be reality for me - someday :).

My IRMA Story

As a girl, I set a standard for myself to save sex for marriage. I was 18 and getting ready to graduate high school when that standard was broken. It was a devastating reality, but instead starting over and trying again to stay pure, I gave in and continued having sex with my boyfriend. While most of my life was spent living with my mom, I lived with my dad and step mom in Germany the last two years of high school. The summer before starting college at Texas Christian University (TCU), I stayed with my mom in Ohio. My boyfriend and his family relocated to Pennsylvania. After being in Ohio a short time, I discovered I was pregnant. I took several tests hoping the results were wrong, but I was, indeed, pregnant. I called my boyfriend to tell him the news and as if he knew what I was going to say, he asked me to marry him. I rejected his request because it wasn't the choice I wanted to make. His next request was that I have an abortion. I told him I couldn't because I knew abortion was wrong. My original plan was to choose adoption for my child. As a military dependent at 18, my doctor visits were both free and confidential. I thought I could go to college and carry the baby to term, then choose adoption; keeping the secret from friends and family. The idea of allowing someone else to raise my child became too painful and fear of exposing my sin mounted. I was scared of ruining my pristine reputation as the virgin and good Christian girl. Up until that point, I had been the victim in life; now, I was the one who had committed wrong. I also had plans of college in the fall; being a single mom was not apart of that plan. I wanted to go back in time, and prayed I would wake up and no longer be pregnant, but, of course, that never happened. Finally, I allowed fear and the voice of my boyfriend's request to control me. My boyfriend's mom made an appointment and I boarded a bus to Pennsylvania. My boyfriend, his mom and I went to the appointment. It was nothing like what I had envisioned. There were no picketers - no commotion at all. It was a quiet office in suburban office complex. The doctor performed other procedures besides abortion, so it just looked like a regular doctor's office. My boyfriend paid for the abortion. I filled out some papers and took a Valium before heading to an examination room. I got on the table, while the doctor looked at the ultrasound – I was not allowed to see. He thought I was about 6-8 weeks along. A nurse came into the room and held my hand during the procedure. The doctor started the sucking process and the pain began. The nurse told me to breathe, but I couldn't – the cramping in my abdomen was more than I could bear. When it was over, the doctor told me the pain would get a little worse before it got better. I was given milk and cookies to help stop the cramps, but I still recall crying in pain. The doctor attempted to lighten the mood by making jokes about a promise of my future fertility. I stayed a few days at my boyfriend's house before returning to Ohio. I went to college at the end of the summer. As I started a new life in a place where I knew no one, I was left alone with my thoughts. The reality of my choice settled in – I had killed my baby! I went to a place of utter despair and spent my first year of college an emotional wreck. I can recall people in my dorm hearing me crying in the bathroom and asking if I was okay, but the truth was - I wasn't. The pain didn't subside; I just got better at suppressing it. In my junior year, I confided in a Bible study leader about my past abortion, and she suggested I attend a support group at the local pregnancy care center. I decided to join the group and began my journey of healing. The pain from this experience never completely disappears, but as I worked through the grief, I was able to function without suppressing memories. Now, at times, certain places or circumstances stir up emotions within me, but I am able to see a baby, talk about abortion and hear people's opinions without getting defensive and distraught. It was important for me to not only understand that I was forgiven, but also deal with the grief that was in my heart. I needed to allow my heart to experience the pain of that choice so that I could move on with life. It's a journey that takes a lifetime. While I regret my choice of abortion, I will never regret facing the pain.

The Time Machine

Yes, it is true that things change over time,but it's also true that somethings don't change...at least not for a long time. This Saturday was my Aunt Abbie's 100th birthday. She has seen a lot change since 1909. I can't even imagine all the changes she has lived through. But one thing I enjoyed seeing was the familiar. Aunt Abbie is extremely spry for her age. She still lives at home with an active life. One of my favorite things as a kid was the eating experience at Aunt Abbie's -she always did love to cook, still does, and no meal was ever simple. There are always a good 10-20 dishes on her table and more food in a meal than one could eat in a week. Dinner Saturday night was a plate full of Aunt Abbie's cooking that made me feel I'd just entered heaven. The good food was surrounded by decor that has been the same since I was a kid and suddenly I was back in time flooded with fond memories. It was a wonderful day with loved ones, celebrating a wonderful woman (who I suspect could live to see 200).