Snakes and Broken Hearts

If I've never shared this, it definitely needs to be written down. In fact, it needs locked in my memory, never to be forgotten.

A few years ago, my psychologist of all people shared this story with me.

There was a man walking down a path on a cold day. He came upon a snake. The snake was cold and shivering. As the man walked by, the snake asked the man to pick him up and keep him warm. The man returns with hesitation, stating that he was a snake and would bite him. The snake begged and pled his case and promised not to bite, he was freezing and wanted a place to get warm. The man finally picked him up and put him in his pocket. After the snake got cozy and warm, he but the man and slithered away. Confused, the man asked why he had bitten him even after he had promised. The snake replied, "because I'm a snake."

Because despite the circumstances, he's a snake. Circumstances don't change anyone, they just make us more desperate to get what we want.

That is exactly what happens when I deal with my family in any realm. I only ever deal with my little brothers family, but I forget what he is.

Two things have happened this week that have me reeling from the heartbreak of being bitten by the snake.

I've prayed, planned and utilized every resource I have available to make a trip to Branson possible. It was two months ago that I started the conversation about taking my niece and nephew. We even altered the days we were going to fit their schedule. I went to a business acquaintance for help with a discounted condo that comfortably sleeps four adults.

These trips with the kids in the past haven't always been pleasurable. They are bickering kids and they don't appreciate things. So, I've spent some time praying through that and in deep discussion with my husband. There's also been some question wether we could make it happen. I finalized plans yesterday and was content.

Last night, I was informed my nephew would not be going. He has wrestling practice one of the days we will be gone. I was livid. I'm so incredibly sick of hearing my friends complain about how Much they sacrifice for sports. I'm sick of coaches using threats to keep kids tied to a schedule that is unrealistic. I'm absolutely angry that my feelings don't matter to any of them. Im positive that if my brother and his wife had made plans, that coach would be called and the kid would be going. But I'm not important enough.

I told my husband a few weeks ago that I'm not interested in buying love any more and I meant that family. It's a post of its own, but we pay a high price to spend any time with any of them. I'm not interested. I'm also not interested in playing this game with them. The game where they make all the rules and we have to eat it or not see the kids.

We will take my niece, provided her mother doesn't punish her for my frustration. Believe me, it's a very real possibility. This trip was kind of it for me. A last I would initiate. If none of them go, I'm done. I can't handle the roller coaster. If there's one thing I've learned the past eight years, it's that the pain never outweighs the gain of not being in the drama.

Prior to that yesterday, I had contacted my brother. Let me back up. I got a Christmas card from my grandma. I have one set of grandparents and one grandpa. My grandma wrote a letter as well.

I've struggled lately with losing family members and how I'd really never be able to go to funerals. The letter, while completely impersonal but handwritten, touched a nerve in me. It was written specifically for me. I know my grandma has no clue why I left the family. They are completely distanced from my family, even though they live in the same town.

My heart was longing to say hello, while saying goodbye. I'm a realist. I know that seeing them would probably be my last. They aren't ailing, but aging. I've really not seen them for nine years. I'm not sure they'll be around another nine. Honestly, a short, sweet conversation now would be the way I want to remember them anyway.

Not really knowing how to make that happen, I contacted my brother. He's the peacemaker of the family. However, he decided to start making stipulations. My other grandpa is not well. He's deteriorating with dementia and other health issues. He's 82 and been a lifetime smoker who eats bacon everyday. He's likely not going to be around much longer.

My brother would help arrange a time to see my grandparents, if I'd go see my grandpa.

Here's the problems. I can't just randomly go anywhere. I cannot handle a run in with my parents. Therefore, I have to have a buffer. I have no desire to ever see my grandpa. My brother doesn't understand that because he doesn't know my grandpa is a child molester. I hadn't ever planned to share that within the family, but he's forcing my hand.

I wasn't the only victim with this abuser. There are others. That belongs to them. I don't want to trigger or cause distress for any of them. Even though they are all crappy to me, I choose not to be that way to them. This is the grandpa who left Polaroid proof of child molestation. I have physical proof there are at least four victims in the family.

Needless to say, I scrapped the entire idea. It became too convoluted. It also became about my brother and what he wanted instead of what I needed or what it would take for me to be ok in this. I don't always make everything all about me. Unfortunately, this has to be mostly about me. Again, I can't play this game with a snake.

That's it. All of it. It all comes down to trusting someone who doesn't have my best interest in mind. It is all about self foscused people who aren't going to change regardless of how convincing they might be. A snake is a snake. He can't help but bite even though he's promised.

Eight Years

It was September 2007 when I told my mom I was being baptized. She hung up on me and began the severing of ties between us. She disowned me at that moment. She didn't need to say it or be ceremonious about it. It just was. I had chosen Christ over my family and she knew it. I'd broken one of the rules and so I must be disowned.

At the very moment I accepted Christ, I'm not sure I fully grasped what it would mean for my life. I certainly didn't automatically think I'd have to give up my family. Let me be clear about something. If this hadn't happened, I would have eventually had to make a break from my family because of the depth of their dysfunction. My mom took the first step and created an early out for me.

Despite their dysfunction, they are my only family. I love my two brothers, two nieces, two nephews and one sister in law. It was a lot to lose. Outside of my own life or my husband, it was probably the greatest sacrifice I could have made for Christ.

That was eight years ago. This is my eighth set of holidays away from them. Beside the first, this might be the hardest time I've had with it.

It was hard and lonely the first few years. Then it was a bit of triumph to have a few years when I thrived despite being lonely. Then there were years when the celebration of Christ was sufficient. The last couple years have brought a moderate amount of contact with my brothers family and time spent with his kids. Those years have supplied their own level of hard, but less loneliness.

The past couple months have been extremely lonely for me. Not quite connected here and too far away from there. So much time alone has given my mind too many opportunities to go down crazy paths.

Only briefly have I considered giving up Jesus to go back to my family. You might think that's extreme, but it's not for the situation. There's no place for a Christian to co exist in my family. Extended family, yes. Immediate, no. There's no possibility of balance. Make no mistake, my husband would never allow that level of crazy. My dad is still far too physically and emotionally dangerous. I'd sacrifice my sanity, marriage and possibly my life to go back.

But, my mind wanders and my heart longs. I've considered what it would be like to sneak back into the family and evangelize them. Would God protect? Would Jesus be enough to keep me in line? Yes, yes. The problem goes back to me not being quite healthy enough to do it. I'm good at admitting where I'm inadequate, not enough. God lets me know. I'm not enough to take on the evil that reside there.

Even if I were able to go back, it would not be as I dreamed. It wouldn't be like the return of the prodigal son. There would be no party. Nobody would be waiting with open arms. There would only be suspicion. I'd be in a vulnerable position with a pack of vultures. There wouldn't be cookie baking or reminiscing. There wouldn't be carol singing or sharing life. It would be dramatic and cold.

I hate this place, hate the emotion. It's not even about not having what I want. It's about the loss and grieving what will never be. I can wish, dream and even scheme. Everything still stands as it is. Impossible.

Before you say that nothing is impossible with God, it's not applicable in that way here. It was only possible with God that I was extricated from this terrible environment. That's what was not impossible and I have to be thankful for that.

Even though I know all of this and eight years is a lot of time to accept it, there's nothing which changes the heartache. There's nothing that makes it hurt less.

I can't hardly believe it's been eight years. It's been nine years since I spent a Christmas or Thanksgiving with my family. So much has changed. None of my nieces or nephews were in school. The oldest turned five and the youngest was a baby.

Despite my own loneliness, I always hope others have wonderful holidays with their families.

Reality

Things are status quo and yet completely off. I know, it's contradictory. Given everything in life, I have to admit that things aren't terrible. They could be worse. It's what I tell myself to make it ok to face the world.

The absolute truth is the cumulative effect of the past two years seems to be sitting heavy on me these days. Starting January 2014, our world was turned upside down and we've had one thing after another to handle. I know, I should be able to deal with one thing and go into the next. I'm not designed that way. I deal with each thing as little as possible, so I can get by and deal with the next thing. What's left over festers until I hit bottom and then it spews out of me like a volcano.

I'm still sleep deprived. It's not as bad at it was, but I can't get caught up at all.

This past few weeks have been hard. I've kept it together. Barely.

After surgery, I got a glimpse of how life will be as we grow older. I'm not complaining. I loved being able to help my husband. It was a perfect time to serve him in ways he's done the same for me. What I realized is that I'm not enough. I have limited abilities outside of loving and feeding him. If he ever becomes physically incapacitated, I won't be enough. While I knew it, it was hard to see firsthand.

The holiday thing has hit me hard this year. It was tough last year, but it was as I expected. This year is incredibly lonely. Even as we prepare for our trip back to KC, it's still lonely for me.

On our trip back, we will be making time for my husband to see his friends and we will stay with his family. We were supposed to take my niece and nephew to Branson for a couple days. Unfortunately, that's not going to happen. Between increased expenses, no raise and a couple months of completely unexpected repairs and expenses, there's nothing left. It's a lean year and my wish list has taken the hit.

Without going into it, I can tell you that there are a few more things complicating life as well. They aren't things I'm ready to lay out there, even to strangers.

Needless to say, I'm tired. Tired as in kind of lost. In the past, I had help with this sort of thing. I had a support system, people I could talk to and who could help. I don't have that now. I have a couple people who would listen and I'm thankful. But, now, I need people who can help. People who know those things I haven't shared here and can help me get through.

Surgery Day

Here we are. Surgery day for my husband. This has needed to happen for 10 years or more. Yes, he's been nursing along a rather large hernia for that long.

I've been sitting here since 6 am. His surgery started at 8 and is nearing the two hour mark, a bit longer than anticipated.

There's something about being here, having surgery that makes you vulnerable and emotional. Not just me, both of us.

As the anesthesiologist explained the intubation process, I felt the tears welling up in my eyes. While he does this everyday, I don't. In fact, I never have. This is the first time I've sat in a surgical waiting room waiting on my husband.

The idea of my husband, big, strong and seemingly invincible, not being able to breathe on his own was more than my exhausted heart could take.

After everyone left, we had a few minutes alone. A laid my head on his elbow and prayed. What else could I possibly do? As I looked up at his face, saw the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes. I asked if he was scared, to which there was no answer. It'd be out of character for him to admit fear over a silly hernia.

I told him it was ok to cry. I could tell he didn't want to, so I changed the subject. Actually I started reading him about not having on underwear and farting on the table.

There's nothing I want more than my husband to be healthy and whole. I hope this surgery helps with both.

This is another time I hate being away from KC. Waiting rooms alone kind of suck. Other families gather in corners and give funny looks when they realize you're alone.

Part 2

Soon after I typed the last sentence, I was able to see my husband. The surgery took nearly two hours. They had him in recovery for 15-20 minutes. At 10:30, just 2 1/2 hours from the beginning of surgery, he was being rushed out of the hospital. Seriously. He barely dressed himself, felt sick and was loopy. But evidently that's procedure. Crazy.

The surgery was more involved than expected and he has a drain. He's fairly miserable and I'm his working parts for standing and getting in and out of bed for now.

Absolutely not complaining. I'd do even more. But it's rough doing everything for two adults and four dogs. I'm praying the next few days improve. Especially at night. He's miserable and can't get comfortable. Unfortunately that means we are all tired after a long, long night.

He Knew

God knew what He was doing.

That was said to me last night. It was said by one of the only people to really walk through the last 14 months with us. Someone who saw us at our worst. Someone who sat with me for hours as I struggled, grieved and bawled. Someone who saw my crazy.

Without a doubt, this person loved us well through it. They didn't have to, we were complete strangers. My grief and pain came out is crazy and sometimes hateful ways. I was raw and full of emotions and had no place to dump them. This person allowed me to dump them in unkind and ugly ways while reassuring me that I was loved.

I sometimes forget. I forget that someone did that for me, for us. When my ugly spilled out on people who didn't know the back story or couldn't extend grace and apathy, this person reassured me that I was not only loved but was loved by God.

No doubt, 2014 will be known to us for a great long time as the year our lives were turned upside down. It'll be that way until another crisis is bigger and badder than what we experienced.

As we talked last night, I was reminded how I sat across from this person and swore that was not me. The normal me was a less emotional, less crazy. My normal is easy going with occasional frustrations or anger complicated by past hurts, but those are rare. My normal is smiling or inquisitive. My normal is quiet until I'm comfortable and hurt at the thought of offending someone. I think I'm finally much closer to my normal than I maybe ever have been.

It made me smile to be reminded of that. Not because I was right but because I was right. I know how that sounds. I wasn't right as in I'm a know it all and am patting myself on the back for being right. No. I'm thankful I was right and could predict that someday things would be normal again. A new normal but normal. Thankful God allows me to have confidence in Him at times or better yet, I choose correctly to have confidence.

Don't mistake what I'm saying. Things are far from normal, but we live a new normal. We fight the adapting we still have left to do. We want a normal that we dream of now.

Back to what started this whole afternoon of thinking through 2014. God knew what He was doing.

I didn't believe that last year. I couldn't. It wasn't within my capability. I barely had the energy some days, physically and mentally, to get out of bed.

There was never a doubt that God was in control with this move. It was bigger than either of us could control or even think of controlling. Once I got here, got homesick, got really sick and started grieving, I doubted my faith in Gods plan. I doubted I was this was His plan. I didn't curse Him, but I seriously doubted this could ever be what was best for us.

I can only share my perspective of why I know now that God knew what He was doing.

He led us to our church before the illness and grief. He used a couple people is great ways. He provided someone to love us through a tough time. He used someone to show His unconditional care and love when we needed it most.

We were so in between churches before we left and not emotionally tied to a pastor. We would have had friends to be there with us through grief, but maybe not someone like we had. Immense grief would have made me incredibly vulnerable to my family. Being back in KC would have allowed us the opportunity to bottle our emotions instead of dealing with them together.

God knew what He was doing. Each step of the way. His timing, while not our timing, was perfect. He provided imperfect people at perfect times and gave them what they needed to love us.

I don't or can't be happy about the trial. But, I can be happy for the people who recognize the journey and the progress. I can appreciate the people who walked through the ugly with us and never left. They deserve all our thanks and respect.

Christmas Decorations

There's a part of my life that is driven by sheer boredom. I'll vacuum twice a week because I'm bored, not because the house is dirty. Sometimes I'll sit and stare at tv for the same reason.

It's because of that, our house is always adequately decorated for the holidays or season. Prior to eight years ago, I might or might not put up a Christmas tree and that was it. The house was cluttered with crap, but it wasn't really something I cared about or enjoyed.

Maybe it was maturity or maybe it was beginning to enjoy life more that I began decorating. Each year it has grown into a bigger deal for me.

For years, Christmas was still a love/hate for me. We went through the motions, but I really hated it. My family left me with so many awful Christmas memories that I wanted no part of it. Once I became a Christian, it got easier. Not for the reason you'd think.

So much became clear for both of us when I accepted Christ. It was all part of the flood of memories. Once I was able to be honest with my husband, he absolutely stepped up. He understood that in order for Christmas to be enjoyable, not only did I need to understand the meaning, I needed to have new memories and stable, happy traditions.

He began making Christmas special. Not in childlike ways, but in good ways. We started doing Christmas shopping together. We'd walk through toys r us during midnight sales. We'd go look at animated light displays or drive through the KC plaza. We took an annual trip to Branson, which all Christmas. We went to Christmas Eve services. We discussed the birth of Christ. He never complained about Christmas music. He helped change my heart toward Christmas.

Because I'm at home all the time, I tend to change decorations early. Fall goes up mid August. Christmas goes up mid November. Christmas tree and a few other items get put away in January. Most of my Christmas decorations are actually winter and snowman themed, so they stay up until March. Then the spring stuff goes up. In May, a few Easter themed items get put away and a few summer things take their place. Then it all starts again.

Next week, the Christmas decorations will go up. My Christmas shopping is done. I know it seems really early for some, but it makes me happy. With the current state and upcoming state of things, I want to be surrounded by what makes me happy. So next week it is!

You're Safe

Even though I've said it before, it never hurts to have a reminder. I survived a horrific life, a life nightmares are made of really.

My days aren't full of reminders, but the reminders fill my down time. It would be a lie to say that the reminders aren't debilitating at times. They are. Not as bad as they were two years ago, but enough.

We've been here 18 months. That means I've had only 18 months of my 40 years when I've lived without fear of an abuser. Only 18 months where I didn't live with harassment, abuse and torture. My dad didn't stop the abuse when I married and he never, ever left me alone. To my knowledge, he was still harassing and taunting me up to the day we left.

In 40 years, 18 is just a blip, the tiniest fraction of time. There are a list of things that don't just go away after all that time.

There are still nightmares. There are still flashbacks. There are still times when I shake in fear and forget I'm 700 miles away. There are times when I wake up in a cold sweat in the dark and have to figure out where I'm at. There are times when I have to verbally repeat that I'm safe now and he's far, far away.

It's the first of November and the start of holiday season. All of my issues get worse during this time of the year. That locks me in a nasty cycle. As those things increase, so does my insomnia. In July and August, I was at 8-9 hours. September and October were 6-7. Now, I'm lucky to average 3 hours a night.

I know it will improve, but it will take a long, painful few months.

Unlikable

Have you ever felt or believed you were completely unlikable?

That's usually not one of my more intense insecurities. I've always been honest and passionate. I've often found that I'm one of those people you like or don't and there's not a lot I can do to change your opinion. It's not that I don't care, but I've found over the years that winning over people who have an already developed opinion of me, true or not, is not a strong suit of mine.

Honestly, that works when you live in a heavily populated and diverse area. You'll still make friends and find plenty of people who appreciate your personality.

When we moved here, I made two critical errors. One was that I acted like the person who recently come out of their shell/got comfortable in their own skin. The other was believing we would be quickly accepted.

My first error was a very natural one. I wasn't afraid to speak or share. The problem came in the people here not knowing what the past 8-40 years of my life have been like. Opinions were made about me based on my confidence and false security. First impressions were unfairly made. I don't really have the ability to change that, even if I want. Most the people could never know that it was a good thing for me to have confidence and be open.

The second error was also a very natural one. I believed if we came in, loved each other and showed love for the people and community, we would fall into place as if we had always belonged. Yes, that happened with a couple people and even some of those have been difficult. We've felt on egg shells with a great deal of people.

I'm honestly not complaining about anyone or any group of people. I'm trying to flesh out those very real feeling that bring a lot of loneliness.

We've met a few hundred people since we've been here. Most have been only once or twice and no real conversation took place. I'll be honest, we aren't very memorable people on first meeting. We are quiet and reserved.

Here's the hard part. We've been here 18 months now. Between the two of us, we have almost a hand full of relationships that are beyond surface. However, we feel stuck there. Not stuck in those relationships, but stuck not making any more.

Recently, we've had the opportunity to be in large groups of people a few times. Even though we were amongst them, we were not. We watched as they all mingled, laughed and talked. In all the situations, only one person spoke to us. People we've shared meals with walked past us as if we were invisible. One or both of us would wave or say hello and there was no response.

This sort of thing happens all the time. It's a small town. We see people in stores, restaurants and gas stations. In 18 months, we can probably list the number of times people have acknowledged us.

Most of these people have no known reason to dislike us. And, most of the time we don't take it as that. Mostly, we know that we are strangers. We know that people's friend receptors are full. We don't take it personally a lot of the time.

But lately, it's been harder. It has felt personal. I'm just being very real here. We often discuss why it feels as though we are so unlikable. What is wrong with us? What are we doing wrong? What can we do better? Do we let this be the thing that drives us to move on next year? Is God using this to teach us something or show us this place isn't where we belong?

Of course, some of this is extreme. But it's one of the most painful parts of this move. Even 18 months later. Neither of us is immune to it. It touches on insecurities. It causes pain. We are separated from one place and not quite a part of the new place.

They Don't Stay Little

Theres no other way to put it, it's been a rough week. Fall is tough on me. Congestion, itchy eyes, dizziness, headache, runny nose. My allergies are worst in fall and harvest time seems to exacerbate them. Allergies, cold weather and a serious lack of motivation have got me out of my normal routine and kicked me off the health journey. I'm not gaining weight, but I'm not losing either. 

As you can tell from the last post, it's been a rough week emotionally too. 

For a short while, I thought I finally had my feelings about my brothers in check. Sort of felt like it was over. Maybe it was. But a couple events have brought it all back. Frankly, I miss them. 

Last Saturday night, I had a dream that seemed so real. I was sleeping and my phone kept ringing. I finally answered. It was my sister in law. Something had happened to my brother and his kids. Before I found out what, I woke up. I was shaking. Checked my phone. Nothing. Relieved, but the reality of how easily that could happen would not leave me. It bothered me for days and I was never so relieved to see a random post from one of them on fb. 

The next day, I learned that one of my little brothers classmates had passed. Keep in mind, we are from a town of 2000. Everybody knew everybody growing up. We are older, so we expect this kind of thing to start happening eventually. I've lost two classmates, one to suicide and another to drug overdose. My middle brother has lost a few more for a variety of reasons. This was my little brothers first class loss. That first one is always a little shocking. 

Once I got more information, I learned this wasn't just any classmate. This was also the brother of one of my classmates. He was a kid that I spent time with when we were younger. He was 37 and died of a massive heart attack. 

Things get even more real when it's a situation where you can see yourself. I'd be devastated to lose one of my brothers. It brought up a lot of thoughts and conversation about what I'd do if that happened. 

This guy had lived a rough life. But, I'll always think of him as a child. His laugh and honesty. Him playing and riding bikes like little boys do. I can't hardly imagine him gone. That's honestly the way I see my brothers in these days of missing them. I see them as children. Innocent children, not understanding how the world is going to break them. 

Last night, we handed out candy at our church trunk or treat. We live in a small and somewhat poor area. There were some elaborate costumes, but most were children from the church. Same with pre made costumes. What we saw a lot of were what we call "grandmas bathroom closet costumes." That's when you throw make up on to look spooky and wear oversized adult clothes. It's also known as the poor kids costume. 

I'm not judging. We wore the poor kids costumes. I wore my softball uniform and my grandma drew stitches on my face one year. One of my brothers used an old wheelchair, clown wig, and awful makeup with grandpas overalls. What the heck? We saw a lot of that kind of thing last night. Random stuff. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate creativity when you don't have money for store bought costumes. 

So much of it reminded me of my brothers. Little and fun. I usually had to come up with a costume. I was the one who walked them all over town. It was usually a night where we left the fear of our home and enjoyed the fright of Halloween. 

I came home last night with this weird conflict inside me. We all wished to grow up fast. All of us wanted out. It felt like it took forever, but we all got out of the house and I got out completely. But, I wish they could have stayed little. 

There are times I wish they were little so I could still influence them. I know that can't happen. I also know that none of us loved being little enough to ever make it worth living in hell again. There was a bliss about being naive in how quickly life changes and the fear of loss. That's the reason I wish they could have stayed little. 

Once in a While

Things are so much better for us here. Compared to last year, it's a completely different life for us. 

We are happier now. We both are starting to feel a little more connected to the community, church and friends. We are happier with each other and have learned to communicate better and depend more on each other. Mentally, we are both so much better. Physically, I am stronger. 

The move, health crisis, loss, aloneness, it all took a toll on us that we finally feel has lessened. 

But, once in a while, it all falls apart and we find ourselves feeling extremely alone again. 

Things are relatively normal, but we have a rough few months ahead of us. Starting today, we had the first of several medical appointments for my husband. He sees his back surgeon Friday and unfortunately, we expect a back surgery in the near future. I can't even think about that right now, partially because we have a lot prior to that. 

In the first few weeks of November, my husband will have an EKG and other tests prior to a hernia surgery the week of Thanksgiving. There are a couple complications with surgery that are a bit concerning for us. The surgery itself is for a larger than average sized hernia. Common for an experienced surgeon, but recovery could be longer. It's a little nerve wracking for me to have my husband out of commission for six weeks headed into winter. 

Although I'm not ready to go into it, he has another medical issue that is a lot concerning and will require testing. To do that, we must find a new PCP as our previous one dumped our insurance. I'm doing my best to not worry until there's something to worry about. However, there's already reason to worry given the symptoms. 

Those are pretty tough things to squeeze into two months. In addition, we will be traveling at Christmas and that is always stressful. Between medical bills and unexpected expenses, the next few months will be hard financially as well. 

When I look at all of this, I do feel alone. I feel like I'm carrying a lot by myself. My relationships seem to ebb and flow. I'm currently in one of those times when I'm fairly reclusive. Not by choice, but it's just a season. This is one of those times when I miss my previous support system. While that is beginning to organically develop here, it's not yet the same. That probably speaks more to my comfort level than anything. I still don't feel as though I'm at a place where I can reach out to people or ask for help. 

Through it all, I know Gods not leaving me. I'm not completely alone. As hard as it is at times, I know He still has a plan. I know He will provide everything we need and when we need it. 

Why Kids?

Obviously, God has allowed me to be burdened by a few things lately and I've yet to understand why.

Everyday, my thoughts have been consumed by children. No, not having children, but the well being of children.

I've said before, the news here is tough. There is much more violence, drugs and death reported on our local news. Each week, there's a new story or two about children being killed or injured. News of late includes teenage sisters being shot in a fury of bullets, killed by their brother. A grandmother who overdosed on heroin and drowned her grandson. A dad cutting his child's nose off. A little boy losing a six month battle with a brain cancer. That comes after a full summer of children being shot, car accidents, domestic violence where children were killed and so many more.

Now, it's in the national news. An intoxicated/mentally ill person drove into a crowd at a homecoming parade in Oklahoma. One child was killed and 1/4 of the 47 injured were under 12. Kids go to parades for fun and candy. They never expect to be run over.

Likewise with all of the instances I listed. Kids are supposed to be happy and carefree. They aren't supposed to live in fear of guns, cars, brothers, parents and grandparents.

The burden is even more local. We live in an area with a lot of poverty. It's an area where there are a lot of kids who don't eat three meals a day. I only know because I've witnessed it, but there is abuse and neglect more visible than what we are used to seeing.

I can't stop thinking about these things. My heart won't stop breaking.

There's no way to save them all. In fact, I'm not even sure what can be done. Of course I can pray. I know quite intimately what it's like to not be fed, be abused or neglected. I survived and I want others to have a fighting chance to do the same.

Back Up

Most of my days here in Ohio are spent at home. Sure, I'll go to the store and on weekends, we usually do something. But, mostly, I'm home alone or with my husband. So, I look, feel, act and seem as normal at home as anybody else.

We both know I have PTSD and anxiety, but when I rarely leave the house, I'm triggered little. Most of my triggers are memory and have nothing to do with other people.

It's fair to say, I forget. We forget. I forget that I'm triggered by strangers and unfamiliar places.

We had a rough trip to Dayton today. I wanted to go, but had a tough insomnia night with barely three hours of sleep.

When we walked into our usual Trader Joes, I quickly saw that they were in the middle of a remodel. It's needed. The place is crammed full and they've needed to do it a long while. However, nothing was in its usual place. It was unfamiliar.

There was frustration and confusion. We both wondered around searching for our usual products. No easy task. That rattled me, but only slightly. I've learned to adapt much faster to unfamiliar places. But, still, I could tell my lack of sleep was making it a touch difficult.

At checkout, a slightly older couple got in line behind us. My husband was helping bag the groceries and I was waiting to pay. The woman stayed in line while the man came up to us and stood about a foot behind me.

I knew he was there. Before I go further, even if I were perfectly normal, I'd have thought where he was standing was odd and uncomfortable. He was basically hovering behind me and between my husband and I at the end of the checkout lane. Weird.

Of course I'm fine until I'm not. His position made me not fine. He figgited and was close enough, I could feel him moving. I got physically uncomfortable and began to shutter. I felt trapped with a strange man too close behind me. I was so uncomfortable that I screwed up the prompts with payment and had to start over.

My husband could see the problem and did nothing. The cashier saw and tried to redirect the couple to another lane with no success.

I knew I was seconds from breaking down. My body was shaking more and I could feel uncontrollable tears coming. I finally turned to the man and politely asked him to take a few steps away from me.

We finished and left. It took me a while to unwind and calm my body.

A few years ago, I'd have not handled the situation the same. I wouldn't have been able to. I would have either lashed out at someone or froze and cried. I didn't do either. I held it in as long as I could and handled it the best I could when I knew I couldn't go one more second.

I don't freak out if someone I know comes up behind me. Sure, I might get jumpy, but I'm ok. This was a strange man with odd behavior. It was a huge trigger.

It's been a while since I've had a public incident like this. The recovery isn't any easier now than it was last time or even the first time. It was hard. It was a reminder that I'm still not normal. As much as I like to seem normal and look normal to everyone, I'm not. I have severe PTSD. It doesn't have me. I don't let it confine me or make me afraid of going and trying things. But I do have it and it's not going anywhere.

I'd like to forget, but I can't.

A Colorful Tunnel

This probably isn't going in the direction you'd think.

As I've said in the past, I struggle to understand transexualism. This is showing an ugly part of my heart, I know.

With wider acceptance of homosexuality, transsexuals are being thrust into our lives whether we want it or not.

Homosexuality is something I have much more understanding of and acceptance. Do I agree with it being sin? Yes. But no greater than my sin. It's something I grew up with and have seen great trauma as a cause. I've seen lives redeemed from this life choice. And yes, it is a choice when a life can and is redeemed.

Transexualism and gender reassignment seem to be in a different realm for me and specifically the GR.

I cannot wrap my head around the idea of how anyone could physically alter their reproductive parts, basically mutilate them so they can permanently pose as the opposite sex. More than anything, it goes against everything I know ethically about medicine and God. I won't apologize for my views, but don't hate me for my personal opinion.

Last week, I read that our local grocery store chain is now going to pay full health benefits for anyone seeking GR.

I am absolutely distraught over this.

Companies are doing this so they can avoid discrimination law suits. Our country has devolved to this place where we live in fear of hurting someone's feelings and act preemptively.

GR surgeries and treatment used to be done with years of counseling. That's no longer required. It's not required because how dare anyone suggest transexualism be a biproduct of a mental disorder. In the 80s and 90s, counseling was required and nearly 70 percent chose to not proceed. The numbers don't lie. Now, as long as you have the financial means, you can mutilate or add body parts all you want.

Probably my biggest problem with this new policy is the discrimination against your average person. Your average person who barely makes ends meet and pays outrages insurance premiums. The people diagnosed with major diseases everyday who can't afford medications or surgeries to save their lives. Where's the fully paid insurance plans for them?

Damn it! Just writing it out makes me mad all over again.

Unfortunately, this grocery chain is the only main one nearby for us. Walmart is our only other real option and it's a nasty, filthy one. However, that maybe what we go to. Neither of us can stand the idea of giving this company with such warped standards one more penny.

Will we be able to get away from it completely? Probably not. But we will try. We won't buy their gas either.

As I left the store today, I was angry at the injustice. So, so angry.

As I drove down the highway, a song came on the radio. I don't even know the name or artist. But the lyrics were right on. God is there to take on what is too big for us. Fight the battles. We don't have to go at it alone. He's our protector and there's no fight too big for Him.

While I took in the words, I found myself surrounded by bright orange, yellow and red trees. It was a beautiful tunnel of fall color. Without sounding too silly, the beauty embraced me and the song was like a hug. I cried. As angry as I was, I knew the fight was bigger than me and would have to be fought on a level higher than me.

It would ruffle a lot of feathers, but I want to get others to cry out over this injustice. Like I said, it's not even so much about my personal struggle with GR and transexualism. It's the reverse discrimination. It's taking money from hurting, poor people and giving it to people making choice/non necessary medical decisions.

We, as a community, don't have a lot of choices in where we get groceries. I'm not sure even well meaning Christians could give up their only grocery store on principle.

Big, huge prayers on this one. For whatever reason, God has allowed this to burden me, weigh heavy on my heart.

Home from Vacation

We made it home from vacation and crawling back in our own bed felt wonderful.

Vacation was good. Neither of us were ready for it to end. We could have stayed for months.

The place we stayed wasn't exactly as advertised. It wasn't truly a home away from home, but it serves it's purpose.

We didn't do anything spectacular. We watched fishermen compete, shopped a little bit and spent some time at the beach. The beach was beautiful and relaxing. We spent sunset on the beach and experienced the most amazing sunset ever. We ate. Oh my word, we ate. We ate fish, Irish food, pizza, BBQ, Mexican, burgers, ice cream and donuts, lots of donuts.

Mostly, we spent quality time together. We enjoyed the time. We laughed and genuinely weren't ready for our uninterrupted time to end.

But, we were ready to crawl back into our own bed.

Why is that?

We can have a fantastic time away and never want to return, but our hearts and bodies long for the comfort of home. It happens every single time and not just to us. It's the most common thing you hear from anyone returning from vacation. They were ready to come home.

Truthfully, it's how I spent the first year here.

It was great and I loved this place. But, my heart and mind longed to be home. Back in the place where I lived for 16 years. Our bed was the same, but I longed to be back in the familiar. The place that was my first real home. By home, I mean community as much as house. I longed to be back where I was most comfortable.

Last year when we returned from vacation, I didn't have that feeling of being thankful to be home. It wasn't yet home. It was still the place where I spent days longing to be home.

Life is so much different now. When we got home Friday, I was home. I was glad to be home. My home.

When my heart longed for the routine and comfort of my own home, it was here. When I crawled into bed late Friday night, I was home.

Vacation was wonderful. I'd go again this week, if I could. However, there is great joy in knowing my heart is no longer torn over two homes. There is joy in crawling into my bed and knowing this is my home.

The Ocean and a Sick Dog

Today is one of those days. The kind where there's so much good and so much not good that it leaves you a sobbing mess.

I'm tired. An energy filled puppy kept me awake last night and I got a whopping three hours of sleep. It's fair to say that I started today grumpy. I lacked basic communication skills with my husband and that made our nine hour road trip a bit tense.

But it was good. It was uninterrupted time with the man I love. We made it here safely. We managed to fight only once. We laughed and had good conversation. Of course that all came after a Starbucks stop an hour into our day. Starbucks seemed to make everything right with the world. Ok, maybe not, but it was a little bit of happiness in a cup. We didn't have anything going on that a little sugar or caffeine couldn't fix.

The dogs were awesome. The three of them slept all but about 90 minutes of the entire drive. It was fabulous.

Our Starbucks stop set us back an hour and we managed to keep all other gas and potty breaks down to another hour.

That got us to Destin in time to see the sun set over the ocean. That made the entire trip worth it.

We got to our condo and unloaded. Our condo had a fenced courtyard. Score for not having to walk the dogs. Our condo was a lot disappointing. It's dirtier and run down much more than portrayed. We had to make a trip to the store for toilet cleaner, toilet paper and paper towels. Ick! And, the Internet doesn't work. After we get our refundable deposit back, there will be a review written.

It will suffice. We just need a bed and place to relax when we aren't exploring Florida.

About halfway through our trip today, I called our vet back home. Lucy, the dog we had to leave with a sitter had some tests run yesterday. The news isn't good.

She has a kidney disease that is going to take her life. Her kidneys don't function like they should. They push protein out in massive quantities, while filtering her urine toxins back into her body. That's why she's gained ten lbs in four months. It also explains a low amount of protein in her blood.

When we get back, we will have one more test done. Then we will have to decide if we want to put her through a high powered trio of meds that may or may not give her a few extra months. There's no cure for this disease.

We obviously have some decisions to make. But, this is vacation. I'm doing my best to not think about what I cannot change. I couldn't hold back the tears. I'm incredibly attached to my dogs. They've been through a lot of life with us. We've had her for nearly nine years and during some of the hardest of our lives.

Frankly, I'm not ready to let her go. I know, I don't have to today. When you get that kind of news, it's impossible to not go down that road. But I'll try not to let it be a cloud of vet this much needed vacation.

Here we are, a block from the ocean. Happy to be on vacation, finally.

Faceless

A year ago, I was immersed in overwhelming grief. Not one, but two more babies gone before I knew they existed. It was a deep, dark pit that I struggled to accept.

There was a period of time when I had barely enough energy to crawl out of bed and I spent most of my days crying, sobbing and lost. I questioned why I would be stuck in this strange place all alone and be forced to deal with even more loss.

I don't know when it ended. In reality, it didn't end. The tenderness of loss never truly goes away. It changes. The days slowly return to a normal routine and the loss no longer consumes the majority of your thoughts.

Now, a year later, I know that pain only surfaces when I see a newborn or hear a baby's cry. And for a brief moment, I wonder why such precious moments would incite high emotion in me. Then I remember.

As I was coming out of my grief induced fog at the end of last year, I watched my hair stylist enter hers. I didn't know her well at the time and we aren't super close now. She lost her four month old. Because she is so open and honest and well known, her loss has been very public.

She posted something on social media yesterday that opened my eyes to a part of my grief I rarely consider.

It wasn't the first time, but she posted a photo from a year ago of her baby boy. A chunky little guy who was full of life. She mentioned that she disliked and liked those reminders from a year ago. The photo made her sad and made her happy.

Most of the time, I can somewhat identify with the pain parents feel when they lose a baby. We've been down that road ten times.

There's a difference in miscarriage. I've been told more than once that miscarriage should be easier to grieve because you never form a true attachment to the child. I don't think that could be any more incorrect.

With miscarriage, there is a deeper grief because you grieve everything. You grieve not giving birth, not naming the child, not knowing the sex, not touching their cheek, not changing their diaper or hearing their cry. You never see their precious face with their tiny nose. They are a faceless being who only ever existed to you.

Your grief is over so much and it's rare for anyone to understand unless they've had a similar experience.

When I see a newborn or hear a baby cry, it touches that place inside me where the grief is tucked away. It reminds me that my grief is faceless and all I've lost.

Healthy Belly

So, this health kick has been interesting and about far more than just weight loss. Way back in April, it started with some serious consideration with what was happening in my stomach.

Just a recap of what I've said before about my stomach prior to taking a probiotic.

For years, I've had pain. Sometimes severe and others less so. Sometimes I felt like someone stabbed me seconds after ingesting anything. Dairy has been off limits, along with greasy, spicy or fried foods. I've had a long list of medical tests run. Besides an MRI, I've had every scan and ultrasound of my abdomen done in the last 18 months.

For a year, I was on three double doses of prescription antacids just to keep heartburn at bay. I had reflux often and it was painful. None of the tests showed anything. I was told late last year that I needed to have my gallbladder taken out and be on mess for irritable bowel syndrome, even though there were no positive indications for either.

I also went through periods of depression that couldn't be tied to anything specific. I know there were some that were, but not all.

Fast forward to April through now and I can tell you that I am far more educated.

I enjoyed May through last week without many stomach issues. I didn't change diet much, but did start trying dairy in small amounts. No severe pain and no heartburn. I was able to get off all but one antacid, which was a single dose per day.

My change was getting on a good probiotic. I believe it has healed a lot of what was causing the pain in my stomach.

There are two really important things I've learned.

Keep in mind, this is a very dumbed down version of what I've read and may include theory as much as fact.

Serotonin is produced in the belly. Serotonin is the chemical that makes you happy. Not to be confused with melatonin, which is produced in the brain and aides in sleep.

It completely makes sense that people with unhealthy guts are going to have a tougher time producing serotonin. A lack of the chemical could increase the chances of suffering from depression. When the belly is healed and the serotonin can be produced normally, it makes sense that the person would naturally be happier.

I have experienced less depression and more organic happiness since being on the probiotic. I know some of that is exercising, but I noticed the change prior to exercise.

Over the past few years, I've heard how terrible wheat is for you and awful it is for your digestive system. For that reason, I stopped buying whole wheat products. I changed our bread to whole grain white and stopped buying wheat pastas.

Because I'm a sucker for anything pumpkin flavored, I indulged in the new pumpkin spice mini wheats a couple weeks ago. Oh they were good! A box and a half later, not so much. I was bloated, gassy and in pain. I was that way for 10 days.

Not only that, but it was like all the work my probiotic had done was completely undone. I was in pain and am still dealing with things like heartburn. I increases my probiotic dosage last week and am slowly getting back to normal again. I hate that I've had to get back on higher doses of antacids, but am hopeful that will be short term.

Obviously, wheat is every bit as bad as suspected for me. My husband finished off the half box and had a similar reaction. No good!

Regardless how good something tastes, it's important to know what your putting in your body and the effect it will have on your health.

This journey is far from over. These stomach issues have been discouraging and a minor set back. I'm ready to have my healthy belly again. It'll make me much happier!

Identity in Christ

Our preacher is going through a sermon series about growth in Christ and spending time on the identity piece of it.

It hit me this morning that my identity in Christ is part of the struggle I've had recently with my feelings toward one of my brothers.

For the most part, I don't struggle as much as others I know with my identity in Christ. Honestly, that has nothing to do with me being better or more adaptable or smarter than anyone. It's because God put two very strong, godly people in my life for six years who constantly taught me where to find my identity. I'm also not saying I don't ever struggle, it's just not my biggest struggle at times.

Those two people put a lot of effort into teaching me that I am first and foremost a child of God. God created me and knows me. He hears my prayers and he loves me regardless of how awful I am. God does not see me as my biological dad does. He doesn't treat me that way and he isn't warped like him. Nothing that is said or done to me is a reflection of how God thinks of me.

It was eight years ago this month that I was baptized. Eight years ago last month that I cut ties with my family. It has never been easy to trade my dysfunctional family for God and a church family. It has been unbelievably hard to trade that last name and turmoil as my identity for the identity of Christian and child of God.

On 9-11, my middle brother went to Wichita and did the high rise stair climb in honor of the fallen heroes from the Trade Center. A few days later, there were pictures on social media.

Firstly, I didn't recognize him. It took deductive reasoning to figure out who I was seeing. When you are looking at a picture of your own brother and you don't know who he is, it rattles you. I love my brother, but the years have stolen some of my memories of faces and voices. Or, maybe I have tucked them away in a place where they won't illicit pain or memories.

The emotion didn't stop there. He's a firefighter. That makes me proud of him. I have hoped and prayed that our dysfunctional lives would not keep them from having a caring, serving heart. I have wanted and hoped for them to have a softened heart under their rough exterior and broken lives. Both of my brothers are firemen. So proud!

There was harder emotions to overcome. I've been told over and over how physically unhealthy he is. Here he is, a firefighter. Either he's had healing in miracle proportion or we've been lied to for years. Knowing my family, it's more likely that we've been lied to for 20 years. Not surprising, but it's hard to swallow.

Another thing that struck me was the comparison. They are serving their communities. They are putting their lives on the line. They work full time jobs and care for their families. On the surface, they have everything. They look happy.

A couple things about that, things that are dangerous to think when you don't consider or see the whole story. They are so much better than me. They struggle less. They are happier. They have everything I want. They serve in ways I never could. All while I sit at home everyday and do nothing. I struggle. I don't have what they have. They don't need me. Their lives have gone on without any feeling of loss, while I grieve losing a relationship with them. I agonize over what we went through and pray for a better life for them, when they apparently don't need me or anything better than what they have.

All that would be true, IF my identity were still solely found within that family of origin. It's not though. My identity is different now. The difference isn't that they are better or happier. The difference is that my life, heart and mind have been transformed. I know the back story. There's not health for them. The things we find important are worlds apart.

I am a different person. I hope that if my brother saw me, he wouldn't recognize me. If hope he'd see a happier, more adjusted person. I hope he'd see that I'm a softer, loving person who cares deeply about him. I hope that after a few minutes, he'd see his sister by looking into my eyes. I hope he'd see that I am a Christian and those changes aren't to be feared but embraced.

Finding that identity in Christ has not been easy, but I'm thankful for it. As painful as it can be, I'm thankful my identity has shifted from that terrible life I left behind to what it is today.

Catholicism

With the Pope's visit to the U.S. Coming soon, there is a huge amount of media coverage on the preparations. As I see more, the clearer it becomes that I do not understand or subscribe to the Roman Catholic religion.

Honestly, so many of my friends who do identify as Catholic don't really seem to understand it either. All they really know is that they grew up and remain Catholic. Some, who can not give me a basic understanding of the religion are being raising their children as such.

Here are some basic things that I know about Catholisism. Not that it is all correct, but it is my perception from family members and friends, what they've said and how they live their lives.

My understanding and relationship with Jesus is not the same as a Catholics. When I pray, I have a direct path to Jesus and God. The bible is clear that I don't have to be perfect to come to them, nor do I have to go through anyone else. Catholics have an indirect route to Jesus and God. They have saints they have to petition to, so their prayers can be relayed to God.

To be forgiven, I only need to ask for forgiveness from God. It doesn't matter the type of sin, I am forgiven and need to turn away from the sin. They require a confession with a Priest, who then requires verbal repentance and the Priest offers forgiveness once that is done.

I am saved by grace and grace alone. I can do nothing of my own power to make myself good enough to enter heaven. The only way I can get to heaven is the grace offered to me and the sacrifice of Jesus. They believe there are a long list of things that have to be done before you can get to heaven. Otherwise, you are stuck in pergatory until your family has paid your high penitence.

For the most part, you can see Jesus in the lives of most of my friends. Most of them do not drink alcohol and not heavily. They don't smoke or swear. They go to church. Don't get me wrong, those things do not make you a Christian. However, those are the common marks of those who are.

I'm not trying to over generalize, but that's not the case in the lives of so many of my Catholic friends and family. They are excessive drinkers. They swear like sailors. They rarely go to church. I would say 19 out of 20 of my friends and family fall into that description.

There are so many little nuances between the religions. Too numerous to name.

Obviously, I don't understand those differences. I also don't understand why a visit to the U.S. By the Pope has Catholics crawling out of the woodwork. Even non Catholics are excited about the visit. I don't get it. I've been taught that there is no higher power than God. Nobody should be idolized. But here we are, as a nation, waiting in excitement for someone who is favored above God and Jesus. Someone who is idolized.

Keep in mind, I'm only being honest about my own confusion. I'm not pointing fingers or saying someone is right or wrong. But, it doesn't align with what I've been taught. Godly, wise people have put a lot of effort in teaching me. They laid out a gospel that looks nothing like what I see in Catholics and definitely not what I see in this media spectacle for the Pope's visit.

With all transparency, I have to say that my first experience with a Catholic priest was not favorable. As my cousin molested me in a Catholic Church yard, I watched in anguish as a priest watched through his parsonage window and did nothing to help. I've long since forgiven and this has nothing to do with my opinions now.

Truly, my only opinion is that I'm sad for my friends and their children. I'm sad that they are stuck in a religion they cannot explain. I'm sad that they don't believe they have a direct route to Jesus. I'm sad that their relationship with God is circumvented by their church and distorted from the true gospel of Jesus Christ.

Exciting Times Ahead

When things are going well, my default is to start anxiously waiting for the bad to happen. I'm not saying things are perfect at the moment, but they are pretty good.

We have a few hurdles coming over the next few months. We have travel and my husband has a surgery coming that will sideline him into the winter months.

There are a couple new things that are exciting and came completely out of left field.

The first is our involvement in our church's youth group. We have prayed for a place in the church where we could serve together. We make a great team and together felt like we could adequately support one another in serving. Since we belong to a small church, there aren't a lot of opportunities to serve and rarely any together.

Occasionally, I volunteer in the office and my husband helps in a rotation on the sound board during morning service. Both are very comfortable places for us to serve. A couple months ago, we worked together on a community service project and it was a joy. That was the point we decided it would be great to find a place to serve together.

A few weeks later, we listened to each ministry leader talk about their ministry and share the ministry needs. Honestly, we left a little irritated. There was really no place to serve unless we wanted to help with children. No thank you!

Fast forward a whopping two hours later and the Lord was working on our hearts. A young couple up the road lead our junior high youth group. They had asked for help with the group or even just events. We discussed it and decided that since we have a large vehicle and the time, we'd happily help with events. But events only!

Again, we began to discuss and learned the two were pretty much leading all alone. So, we prayed and discussed. Wouldn't you know it. We felt led to help and get involved as much as possible. We really felt led to help the couple leading, but after one event, the kids are a huge pet of it too.

Don't get me wrong. It's way out of our comfort zone. After spending an evening with them, I think we both are excited to share Jesus with these kids.

There's another super, big, gigantic change coming in our lives, mine specifically. I have prayed a very specific prayer for several years now and had pretty much given up, as if it was not the plan God has for me. And no, it has nothing to do with a child.

I'm bursting at the seams to tell everyone what it is, but the timing isn't quite right. I'm still cautiously optimistic. There's still too many unknown details. But as soon as I can, I'll explain a bit more.

It is absolutely answered prayer. When it was laid in front of me, I didn't get excited and I didn't develop an opinion either way. I talked with my husband and prayed. Asking God if this was the answer. The answer is waited for and had always learned it wasn't the right time.

This is definitely one of those times when we are both praising God and know it is His perfect timing.  I can't wait for the perfect timing to share more.

Of course none of these things will come without some adapting. After 18 months of adapting, you'd think we were pros. But I'm a realist. I know there will be some bumps and routine changes. There will be things to learn and our paths will cross with many different people.

Regardless, we are excited about what lies ahead.

The 50th

Earlier this month, we celebrated my husbands 50th birthday.

I'm not even going to try to fake it. It was a hard day, hard week.

The longer I'm married, the more I love my husband. And, the more I hurt when he hurts.

It was his first birthday ever spent away from his family. His family means the world to him. He still calls his dad once a week and calls his siblings on birthdays and holidays.

However, it's not reciprocal. Even though I reminded everyone, he got one call and one text on his birthday. His dad called a day or two later. A card came about a week later. It was sad to say the least.

I tried so hard to make it special for him. I asked his friends and family to please send cards. A friend and our previous pastor sent cards and I'm so thankful. Sad, but thankful. I also planned a small surprise party with neighbors and a couple friends.

We made special trips to eat some of his favorites. We also spent his actual birthday evening at the fair with friends. It was hot, but fun.

It was absolutely a joy to see people celebrating my husband.

But it was sad. The people he wanted and needed to hear from didn't bother. I know how hard it is to go through big things and feel forgotten or alone. I recognized the look in his face. That feeling of not being loved.

I'd like to tell you it's his misperception, but I don't think so. His family ha shown a very ugly side to themselves, very self absorbed. They definitely aren't nice to me and have been that way toward him more than ever.

I don't want this to turn into a bashing of his family, even though I have a ton to say. It's painful to see this once loving family fall apart.

My husband would tell you that his birthday was just another day. A 50th birthday isn't just another day. I know it was tough for him.

Honestly, my husband turning 50 was hard for me too.

We obviously don't have a clue how long we will live. I've had 22 years with him. Another 22 and he will be retired and 72. He's getting older and I can't stop that. I wish I could make time stand still so we could enjoy this time and this place. I'm not ready for time to be gone. I love him and want him as many days as I can have him.

I wish the depth of my love covered the love he's missing elsewhere. He's a wonderful man. I can't help but want others to love him as much as I do. I'm thankful God loves him even more and has given me the opportunity to live life with him.

Two Months

As of yesterday, it's been two solid months since I jumped into this healthier living journey. In so many ways, I can't believe it's been that long and at times it feels like a year long journey.  

I never thought I'd stick with it through two months. There were times I really felt like giving up, but I didn't. 

There have been plenty of days when I didn't get much exercise. Either the weather or my motivation didn't cooperate. However, I have stuck with my goal of walking at least 4-5 days a week. I may have had one week where I only got three days. 

There have been plenty of days when there was no diet plan and I blew it completely. I usually give myself one day on the weekend to eat without tracking calories. What I've found with calorie tracking is that eating wasn't really my biggest problem. On a typical day, I was probably not going over 1500-1800 calories. That's not a lot to start with for someone my size. The difference is definitely in the exercise and probably be more aware of what is going into my body. 

One thing I keep expecting, but hasn't happened yet is having a weight gain for my weekly weigh in. I know it'll eventually happen. I've expected it the past two weeks as I haven't been as diligent or motivated. 

I've been fighting that motivation thing. That's a hard one. I've not been sleeping well, so I've slacked off. Then I don't sleep well cause I've not been active. It's a vicious cycle. I've also not had the level of encouragement I had at the beginning. I can't say enough about how much that helped keep me going in the beginning. Having cheerleaders and encouragers was such an important part of the success. It's still important, but life and seasons change. 

So, here it is. My update for what I've lost the past two months. You don't have the weekly average, but it's about 2 lbs and 1/2-1" per week. 

Weight -32 lbs

Hips -6"

Waist -9"

Chest -9"

Shoulder -11"

Arm -4"

Thigh -7"

My clothes have finally started to be too big and I fit comfortably into all the size smaller clothes I bought last fall. Now if it will just get cool enough to wear them. 

Probably my only disappointment is that I don't see that much change. The weight is coming off all over. Even my socks fit differently. I put on a pair of knee socks yesterday that wouldn't go above my knee in the spring and now they go about three inches above. I have shirts that have never fit in the arms and now they do. I've never lost weight all over like this. 

Bare with my craziness for a second. There's been a fleeting thought for me with continued loss. Of course I want to continue. At my current average, I could lose another 32 lbs by years end. That would be awesome and I want that. But, a few more weeks of this continued pace and I'm not going to have any clothes that fit me. 

That's a wonderful problem to have, right? Of course, it means I have less fat and am far healthier. Here's the reality. I'm going to have to buy new bras, undies, pants and shirts for winter. I'll wear my hoodies until they fall off. But everything else won't fit soon. We don't have that kind of extra cash. 

I've started looking at second hand and sale sites, but have only found summer clothes in what I need.  I'm obviously not in desperate mode yet, so I've tried not to think about it. But how can I not? I'm already needing new pjs. Even Walmart pjs are expensive. I don't work, no income. So, it's crossed my mind to stop and call it good. That would be the cheapest decision, but I know the wrong one for my long term health. 

Anxiety

Lately, my anxieties have increased. I've noticed that when my regular daily routin is or is about to change or be interrupted, my anxiety increases.

Not that there aren't other things. Since getting Bell's palsy in January, I've have a list of residual issues. One of those is pain in and around my right ear. It's a little long in the recovery process, but I can't do anything about it. If I'd have chosen medical intervention and steroids, I might not have the issues. My right eye still twitches and I can tell my muscle tone is not normal.

Fall is the worst time for allergies for me. My allergies flare and then my sinuses are irritated. When that happens, my ears ache and I get pain down into my neck. It's the norm and has been for years.

Those swollen sinuses and Eustachian tubes are even more painful and pronounced now after the BP. The vertigo comes on fast and furious. The muscle spasms are hitting me hard at night.

It's all a bit anxiety provoking.

But those are probably minimal compared to routine changes.

We are getting ready for vacation. I should be excited and I am. But my anxiety spikes.

Vacation isn't for a few weeks, so I hope it will improve.

Because I recognize this pattern, I can deal with it now.

After communion at church today, it hit me that I don't really have to worry about this. I have the ability to pray about it daily. But it's more than that.

I know this, but it was a gentle reminder from the Holy Spirit. There's nothing that's going to happen that God doesn't already know. He knows.

Even better....no matter what happens, my place is secure in heaven.

As much as I want to be here on earth and live my life and love my husband, I don't have to worry. When that time is over, my eternal life begins.

It was just a good gift to be reminded that worrying about the day I will die is stealing the days I can live.

Oh Lord, I need that reminder often!

Time After Time

For whatever reason, I still cannot shake this current cycle of dreams and memories of my brother. As I've said before, it's been well over eight years since I've seen him and we never had much of a relationship as adults. When we were with each other, our relationship was toxic and physically and emotionally destructive. That doesn't negate the feelings I have for him.

From afar, I love him. We are both products of a severely dysfunctional family. I chose a path of health and he has not. But I still care deeply.

Also as I said before, he's a complete stranger to me now.

With the memories and dreams, I can't help that my heart is breaking and I am fully immersed in the grieving process.

This weekend was his 39th birthday. It's never forgotten. It's the same day as my husband's childhood friend/best man at our wedding. They share the same name and same birthdate.

Even though he's not much younger than me, I still helped raise him. I was there for him when he was hurt as a small child. And that was a lot of the time. I was the one who made sure he was fed, had clean clothes that fit, and his homework was done.

I know I've shared this before, but it's heavy on my heart again.

In 1983, Cyndi Lauper's song "Time After Time" hit the late night videos. At all of eight years old, the words of the song seemed to accurately describe how I felt about my brothers.

"If you're lost you can look and you will find me."
"If you fall I will catch you, I will be waiting."

I know this song isn't exactly about being there for your brothers, it's about a relationship. Maybe I didn't know quite everything at eight years old. What I did know is that when I sang the song to my brothers, it was comforting to them.

The words were valuable. In those moments when we all felt the world spinning out of control and completely alone, there was comfort in brief moments of quiet.

Now there is a commercial which plays often with a cover of this song. The memories flood back each time it comes on tv.

Our relationships all eventually fractured. We were pitted against each other. We also learned it was survival of the fittest. We all learned to fight for ourselves and against each other. It's a natural response when you are fighting for your life.

Despite what I've said, I believe I've held onto some faint hope of reconciliation with my brother. Now, realizing he's been a stranger to me for far longer than eight years, I'm finally being forced to let go.

Do you know how badly that hurts? To know you have a sibling who is living and breathing, but you must grieve them as if they are dead?

It's not the same as just being estranged or having a strained relationship with a sibling. I have that with my other brother. No, it's completely different. This is a loss. A loss that is far harder to understand than any death.

For the past month, I wished away these memories and dreams about my brother. Now I understand it's my mind and hearts way of letting go and moving on. I'm finally letting go of that tiny bit of hope which was buried deep inside me.

I'll always love him, much in the way I love others I've lost.

Bob

Note:  Since I do my best to not discuss specific people by name, I've changed this persons name.

So...Bob.

Bob is an older man in our church. He shook my hand this morning, as he does most Sunday's. As he started to walk off, he stopped again and said, "You look really good."

I thanked him and smiled.

My 30 lb weight loss is finally beginning to show, slowly. That in itself has caused several people to offer compliments and encouragement.

That may have been where his compliment came from, but the entire relationship is worthy of sharing. It's one of how God softens hearts, especially mine.

A little over a year ago was the first time I met Bob. Bob was an existing member of a bible study we started attending. Our first impression of him was that he was kind enough, but bitter and a whole lot judgemental.

Bob always had something to say during bible study. He came across as very black and white, very opinionated. Bob is an elderly man and I believe has lived in this area most, if not all, his life.

I believe because of those things, he has little tolerance for this progressive world. His era was filled with hatred toward blacks and absolutely no understanding of homosexuality. He's from an era where both were shunned and not shown God's love.

Those feelings and beliefs oozed out in passionate conversation during bible study.

Not knowing anyone very well and not having a good understanding of this very sheltered area of the U.S., we often didn't know how to comprehend what was said. It came out as offensive and hatred to us. Not at us.

One night, I left bible study in tears after Bob and his friends spent a good chunk of the study sharing their hatred toward gays. There was name calling, blaming and shaming.

I have friends and family who are gay. I love them. I do my best to love them how God would want me to love any of his children. So, I was taken back by such hatred spewed from mature Christians.

That night and many months after, I held onto hatred for Bob and his friends. People explained a little bit to us why Bob was the way he was. I was hearing none of it. He was hating people and I wasn't going to stand for it.

In the coming months, I got really sick and then hit an emotional low. That study group were the only ones who really had any clue. They saw the color fade from my cheeks and checked on me often. They were the ones who eventually saw the color come back to my cheeks and that I was improving.

During that time, Bob made a point to check on me on Sunday mornings. I didn't realize at the time, but that's what he was doing. About a month ago, he told me he was glad to finally see me smiling. The next week, he let me know he had been and is continuing to pray for us. And not just for our struggles, but specifically for us to have a child.

Piece by piece, he's let me know and not in a prideful way, that he has followed, checked and prayed. His heart may or may not have been softened toward us at first, I don't know. But I know now, it is. He's been loving us in his way.

I only begrudgingly shook his hand for months. But then God softened my heart toward him. I began to pray for him months and months ago. I began respecting him and his life's journey. God put it in my heart to love Bob and his friends.

I do. I love these people who once offended me. I care so deeply for them. I've checked on them when I haven't seen them at church. I've taken meals when they've been sick. I've sent cards when I've felt led. I've prayed and praised God for how they serve the church and set examples.

The compliment this morning was lovely. But, the evolution of the friendship and how God has worked in big ways....that's beautiful!

Slump

Tomorrow is my weigh in and measurement day. It might be the first one I'll skip in 7 weeks.

This last ten days have kicked my butt in so many ways.

Up to this week, I got plenty of exercise. Between cleaning and prepping for a guest and then going a lot while she was here, I didn't slow down much.

It is always good to have visitors. Don't get me wrong! But it's stressful and definitely gets me out of my regular routines. I won't say much more about the visit because it had special stresses. It kicked up a lot of OCD in me.

Since I was out of routine, I was only able to get 2-3 hours of sleep for night. That left me completely exhausted. A week later and I am finally feeling like myself again.

During that same time, I had a minor health crisis. Nothing that isn't getting under control now, but one that took me a step backward with my blood counts. There's a good reason why you cannot donate blood for 2-3 years after low platelet levels. It only takes a minor crisis or bump in the road to set you back.

All that to say, I'm just now getting some energy back. But this week has been hard. I haven't gotten much exercise.

I've also struggled with some emotional issues. Dreams about family have continued. I don't have a true place to process and download most of that.

We are coming through one year anniversaries of very stressful and tough times. A year ago today, I had surgery. It's also when we found out how close to death I'd been. This month will mark a year that we learned of our miscarriage and had another. Not that I'm stepping back into that realm of grieving, but it does stir up some emotions.

In some of my dreams, I am desperately trying to get my mom to be with me through some of the emotions and her response is always the same. She stands at a distance and laughs. Sad, but that's how she dealt with my rare displays of emotions as a child.

All of that has been a pretty heavy load to carry. There's only so much I can share with my husband. His shoulders are already full with his own stuff. Exhausted, alone and deflated has made this a rough week.

It's the first week that I haven't paid attention to diet or even cared. It was the first time that the idea of losing only one or two lbs discouraged me. It was the first time in seven weeks that I really believed that I was wasting my time. It was the first time in this journey that I was content to just be a fat girl forever.

I know some people use a list like that to push them to work harder. Not me. It was my white flag moment.

Of course, I won't stay in this place. But I have to be honest about where I'm at right now. I have to know that every step of this journey wasn't easy. Not every week was about weight loss. I have to remember that some weeks were just about getting to the next week. I have to be reminded that weeks when I sabotaged myself, I could still start fresh the next week. I have to know that there were weeks when I was carried and the journey was never mine to take alone.

Comfortable Life, Bigger Plan

There is probably more than one post about this and there should be a lot more. Sometimes, and not often enough, what Jesus did for me overwhelms me and brings me to my knees. 

Admittedly, I sometimes don't pay attention to the communion devotion at church. They sometimes include personal stories or sports analogies that distract me and I try to focus solely on Jesus on the cross. Last Sunday was different. I hung on every word as the guy talked about how Jesus left heaven to be with us. 

Jesus came to earth in human form. His life was designed and formatted with purpose to teach us about sin. His life was intricately written to be a guide for us and how to live our lives. 

It wasn't all roses and sunshine. He had to convince people of who he was and fight their unbelief. I mean without the written prophesies at their fingertips, most had no reason to believe God would separate himself from heaven and come to earth in flesh. 

He was hated and even those closest to him doubted. If heaven is all its said to be, why would anyone trade it to be amongst sinners clinging to a fallen world?

I don't know about anyone else, but I don't like to step outside the comfort of my own little self created world. My house is clean, there's a pumpkin candle burning and soft music playing. The temp is a perfect 72 degrees. It's going to be near 90 degrees outside today. The flies and wasps are on their last leg of summer. 

It's a safe to say I'm going to hang out on the couch today with the TV, book or craft project. There's very little that could change my plans to stay where it's comfortable. There's very little I trade these comforts for today. 

That's a fairly accurate description of how we live life. Only big things ever change our desire to be where it's comfortable. Only crisis or God will push us out. And when that happens, we can trust that there is a bigger plan. 

Exactly! There was a bigger plan for Jesus living on earth. His death. Not only did he teach and leave us a guide for living, he came to die. 

I know I've said it before, but his sacrifice is more than I can comprehend most of the time. 

He didn't die a quick death. He was beaten mercilessly and nailed to a wooden cross. He died on a cross so that we could be forgiven. His death on the cross created our other to heaven. He gave it all for us. His life and his last breath. He gave it all. 

Jesus sacrificed his life so that we could one day know ultimate comfort. 

It's hard to believe most days that there's something more comfortable than my current surroundings. But there is. I know there will be plenty of times when I get pushed out of my comfy house. I just hope I always remember there's always a bigger plan. I know there is because Jesus gave his life for it. 

Reliving Firsts

Last weekend, my husband and I talked about how hard our first six months were here. It was truly a blur for us. So much was happening and our focus was on illness, finances and we were torn between here and there. 

Going into this fall, we will pass several milestones. Our first year of being free of our KC house. A year since grieving. A year of increasing health. A year of really settling. 

We were probably into this summer before things finally began to feel different, like this was home. That changes the perspective of everything. We had a year of living conflicted and heartsick. Now that those hurts have healed, we are experiencing things for the first time. We are living in the moment. 

Last year, I decorated for fall. It took me three days to clean and swap out decor. I had no energy and my heart wasn't in it. This year, it's taken a couple hours and it's made my heart so happy. 

I'm ready for the change of season. I'm ready to experience the Ohio fall when I can soak it in and enjoy it's intricacies. It'll be my first Ohio fall where I can see it with fresh eyes and a heart of thanksgiving. 

Not that I would have chosen how last year went. Up until then, the seasons changed and I rarely got so excited or felt as though I was experiencing it for the first time. Missing a year of changing seasons has given me a new perspective. 

Even though it's only September 1st, I'm ready for this next season. I'm ready for the smells of fall, changing leaves, pumpkin everything and the sounds of harvest time as I enjoy the cool breeze on the deck. 

I'm thankful to be in this place in life at this time. I hope it stays for a while. 

Cheaters

While making the hour long trek back from Dayton Saturday, my husband I had a long discussion about the Ashley Madison website hack. No, neither of us can be found on the website. But it's worth the time for us to discuss. 

Until it hit the news, neither of us had heard of this website. That's a plus for our marriage. We were both amazed by the amount of information could be found after the hack and how brazen some people had been. Using work email and time to cheat on their spouses. We weren't judging, just surprised. 

We were also heartbroken for all the people who now have relationships to mend. Even if the site membership never led to an affair, there is still a brokenness which must be dealt with by the couple. 

There was an equal surprise that there have been lawsuits filed against the website. We understand if the sole purpose is regarding the personal information now available for the world to see. But, if it's because they were caught, then that's frivolous. 

I've tried to write about this subject before and have mentioned it in passing. Infidelity is something that plagued us early in our marriage. So, we both have ample ability to speak on this and know it's not about judgement. In fact, I share in all honesty knowing it can bring judgement on us. 

There's a lot I can't tell you and much that won't seem in context. But, I'll be as transparent as I can. 

My husband didn't cheat. To my knowledge, he's never even had a huge problem with lust. However, he has fallen into the throes of women who were looking to prey on his genuine care and kindness. He's a bit naive. He never saw flirtations for what they were. 

Me, however, I was the cheater. I won't romanticize it nor will I make excuses for it. But, I ask that you do two things. Understand as best you can the extenuating circumstances and believe me when I say that I am NOT a cheater now. 

First of all, I was not a Christian. It was 16 years ago. I had no moral compass. All I had was 23 years of watching how my parents dealt with their marriage and problems. They were cheaters. I was still being emotionally and physically abused by my dad. Unless you've been down that road, you can't possibly understand how that warps your needs and desires, as well as your ability to cope. And there's a lot to deal with in the beginning of the marriage. I also believed my marriage was of no value. I sought ways to drive my husband away because I believed he would leave anyway. I also believed I was unworthy and incapable of being loved. 

Again, those aren't excuses. But me cheating wasn't about lust or love. It was purely based on dysfunctional, sinful living in a time of life when nothing was stable. 

I admitted my mistake to my husband. He was crushed and I offered him an out. He stayed. He stayed and loved me even more. I won't say he automatically forgave me. He didn't. That took years. Trust took even longer. 

My life and our marriage changed long before we started going to church, but going to church was the start of having a guide for our marriage. I changed long before becoming a Christian, but becoming a Christian began building that moral compass. 

Neither of us would tell you that I'm a cheater. We'd both tell you that cheating and lust are not a part of our marriage and not a sin with struggle with. We are both confident in our commitment to each other. We would both tell you that was another life ago. 

My husband could have left. He had ample reason and biblical grounds for divorce. I know, even though we weren't in church at the time, it was God working on his heart. I know God had a plan for us to stay together through it. 

A couple months ago, our preacher touched on something that was like a dagger to my heart. I had a moment of true repentance. Not that I'd never before, but a moment that allowed me to put it completely in the past. In tears on the way to lunch, I told my husband how sorry I was for hurting him all those years ago. 

He let me know he had long since forgiven me. But, I needed him to know how truly heartbroken I was over the pain I had caused him. It was the first time I'd ever really known he'd forgiven me and that it was completely in the past. 

As I sat with the Ashley Madison hack list in front of me this weekend, I thought about searching for names of family and friends. I didn't. I don't need to know. Knowing would only give me opportunity to judge. I don't want that. Each person has their own demons. Each person has a responsibility to repent to two people, God and their spouse. I have no part of that and neither does anyone else. 

Cheating isn't just a problem for men. Plenty of women struggle with it. 

Having been down this road, I'd like to offer some sound advice. Avoid your natural instinct to be angry and judge people you know. It's a sin problem and no different than the sins we all struggle with. If you know a cheating spouse or someone who's been cheated on, don't assume their needs to be a divorce. God's plan may not include divorce but a stronger relationship. God can and will use this for His glory. 

Be compassionate for both and I know that's hard. Judgement isn't going to help. God loves sinners and is near to the broken-hearted. Show them the overwhelming love of Christ and point them back to God in the darkest of days. 

We made it through without God's people, but I know not without Him. 

My husband would tell you the same things. He would also tell you that my mistake has made him a better husband and proven to him that he can love me through the better and the worse that we pledged on our wedding day. 

I'm not thankful for my mistakes, but I'm thankful for the ways I've grown through them. 

Not Wasted

This week has been long and tiring. That's good and bad. A deficit of sleep has finally caught up with me. Things that have happened have continued to pile on my shoulders. Things have poked at my anxieties and emotions.

There's no denying, the past six weeks have been good. They've put me on a high mentally, emotionally and physically. A high that allowed me to ignore the times when my body and mind were crying out and trying to get me to see that I was being falsely confident in my own abilities.

We need times like that. We need times that are good and help us move past tougher times. But that doesn't mean we can forget what we've just walked through or out of.

I've had great results from exercise and diet. The results push me to keep going. But, I can't always do that. I have irritated old injuries and ignored my sheer inability to tolerate allergens. I've stayed busy in ways like I used to when I held a full time job and went all the time. The truth is, I can't do that. I can't go from couch potato six weeks ago to going like a teenager now.

It's a process. A process that I must respect in order to not overwhelm my body and mind.

The physical activity has given me an excuse to ignore the mental and emotional parts of life. When it hit me this week that I've been doing just that, there was a huge message the Lord laid on my heart.

I can't ignore and leave the trials alone. I can't pretend they aren't or haven't been there. Obviously, there is a high probability those trials will resurface if I'm just ignoring them.

The bigger problem is that tossing them aside like dirty laundry is wasting them. Of course it's easier and less painful to turn your back on them as if they were just a blip in life. Don't get me wrong, they may have been. But if I toss them aside, I'm wasting the trial.

It's taken years for me to fully grasp this. A trial is wasted when we do not allow it to grow us. Trials should change us. If it changes us in no other way, it should at least drive is closer to the Lord. But they can grow us in so many ways.

Trials can humble us, teach us grace or patience. They can shine a spotlight on relationships we should value and even those we should let go. They can guide us to make life changing decisions or changes. Trials can teach us dependence or imdependence. They will break us and show us all that we cannot do alone.

Ignoring the trial is completely turning out back on the opportunity to grow and change.

I've done that plenty this past year. I've complained and whined. It's been hard. I've chosen the easy way to react. I've also allowed so many of the trials to change me.

It took seeing someone else not use a trial as an opportunity to grow for me to see I often do the same.

Here's the giant neon flashing sign that has been sitting in front of me since then....Hey don't waste the trials. Allow them to change you. Use them. Use what you've learned to love others.

Sometimes it's hard to put into words something so big and so personal that's been laid on my heart. It's even harder to listen, do and allow the Lord work when it's so much easier to ignore.