I Miss Her Too

My husband has been leaving extra early for work and coming home super late. Yea, not much change for us with this new job. It's left me alone on some long, cold days stuck inside without much to do. My mind wanders and reflects. I listen to music and reminisce. 

Something big happened in my life this summer. I know you know this, but my husband's mother died. Most of the time, that's my perspective. His mom died. But here's the thing about it. She was my mother in law. 

I lost a family member too. One of the biggest influences on my life died. I haven't really been able to own that. 

When I've tried to share my grief, my loss, my husband doesn't hear it. He's a comparer. Not sure if that's a real word, but that's what he does. He compares everything. And when comparing grief, his is greater. It was his mom. So, in his eyes, I have no grief compared to him. 

But I do. 

Don't get me wrong, I can see why he wouldn't think I have reason to grieve. There were times in the last 22 years when we didn't get along. She wasn't nice. I wasn't good enough for her boy. I made mistakes. She didn't like me and let me know it. 

Through all of it, I never disprespected her or treated her in vengeful ways. I never talked down to her and never shared any of my frustration about her with her. I showed her love when it was hard and always respected her role in my husband's life. I never fought her guilt trips with her directly. I won't lie, I fought many fights with my husband. She constantly put me in a position where I had to fight for my marriage. 

Our relationship wasn't easy. What was easy was loving and respecting her for the mother she had been. Not perfect, but she helped form my husband into the man he is. She taught him love and respect. She taught him perserverance and morals. She made sure he had a foundation where you love God and family. 

Before she got sick, I used to send her a thank you card every year on my husband's birthday. I was thankful for her. 

Besides that, she was a role model for me in loving my husband. I watched her love and be by her husband's side faithfully until she got sick. She may have been the first role model in that respect. She taught me a lot too. She was an encourager, especially when she was able to set personally feelings aside. She showed me that if you open your doors, feed your family, they tend to stick together. When she got sick, that stopped and the family fell apart. 

She, even when she didn't like me, was there for me. She helped me with school documents and flat tires and dogsitting. She made sure I was included and always had a place to stay. 

I can't go as far as saying she was like a mother to me. That wouldn't be honest. She was my mother in law. We had an in law type relationship. And that's ok. I believe that's the way it was meant to be for us and it still led to a loving relationship for both of us. 

So, when I start thinking about the holidays and reflecting on the year, I realize how much I miss her. I've missed her for a long time, but this year is harder. 

A couple years ago, Christmas with her was miserable. Her husband wasn't very kind to her. He kept expecting her to k ow who people were and recall info. She hadn't been able to do that for years and it was his denial. She had high anxiety and eventually ran to the other room to finish the day with a blanket over her head. 

Before she took off, she looked at me and thanked me. She said I'm not sure who you are, but thank you for helping me. I knew that year that Christmas would never be the same. I knew she would be so sad at the condition of her mind. 

Honestly, with a holiday and birthday party behind us, I can say that things are much less stressful with her gone. I hate that, but it's truth. 

Regardless, my heart is breaking. I miss her. I miss her so much. You don't have someone in your life for 22 years without some strong attachment. And I've said this before, but having her gone physically is way harder than just having her gone mentally. 

Silent Battle

Do not mistake any of what I am about to say as me being unhappy with being back in KC. I'm not unhappy. But, that isn't necessarily an indication that everything is perfect in life.

As we are deep into the holidays, my husband is completely focused on what he's lost this year. He lives very few moments in the here and now. When he is present, he cannot find anything to be happy about.

I've left him alone. I can't say anything. In his grief, he either dismisses me or tears my head off. It's easier to stay silent. So, silent I stay.

It's a busy season, for everyone but me. I haven't found a social groove yet and of course, there are no holiday gatherings for me with friends or family. Maybe that's ok, I'm not sure I would really want to be around people right now.

While things swirl around me, I'm stuck here fighting my own battles silently. Nobody knows, just me. It's a bit reminiscent of living in Ohio. Plodding through all that's going on in life without anyone to notice or be able to help carry the load.

And it's a heavy one. Outside of the usual holiday stuff and husband thing, I have a short list that feels like a million pounds.

Last week, I finally got the nerve to reach out to a friend with some of it. I was told point blank that she didn't have any place in her life for my stuff and couldn't even say she'd pray for or with me about any of it.

First of all, I sort of appreciate the honesty. However, this person dumps every bit of her life on me. I've never ever said I just didn't want it. She doesn't think twice about dropping dumb drama on me that's completely irrelevant to anything in life, while I'm melting down over my own stuff.

Second, rejection of any kind is the hardest thing for me to overcome. I turn into a brave little girl any time I get the nerve to ask for help. It's a huge thing for me. I rarely had the courage to ask for help when I was child and it takes me back. Then, rejection in any form, it takes me even further back to the times when I did ask for help and was ignored or punished.

So, I pack it all up and put it away again. We aren't talking about little things here. I wish. They are big life things. Things that drive the average person into depression and anxiety.

For now, I put one foot in front of the other and do my best to make it day to day. I pray. I pray for help with these things, knowing that I'm not really at a place to ask for help again. It is a lot like living Ohio. I felt so often that it was just God and I there. Same here at this moment.

It is Christmas time. I'll smile. I'll tell everyone that everything is great. And that will be ok. I'll be celebrating the birth of the savior who came to save me from this temporary earthly pain.

Not My Cross

Today would have been my grandmother's 81st birthday. It seemed like the perfect time to write about something that has been on my heart since this summer.

We learned my grandma was terminally ill with lung cancer on July 22, 1998. My mother-in-law passed away exactly 18 years later, nearly to the hour from that moment.

Even though 18 years had passed, there was so much I remembered as though it had happened yesterday. The emotions, the planning, the pain, it all felt fresh.

I knew, within reason, the progression of death. I was able to share with my husband and is his sister some of what to expect. My mother-in-law had scabs from dry lips. I knew the scabs would stay and look horrible after death if we didn't care for them while she was laying in the hospital bed. I was able to prep them for what they would need for the funeral and suggested cleaning and caring for her so her hair and nails could be done once she passed.

While it was useful, it felt awful for me. I knew those things because I had seen them, lived them out in real and painful ways.

Nearly two months after Barbara's passing, we had a dear friend lose her mother to the same disease. Again, it was walking closely and living out those painful memories. I suppose it is a necessary part of life. Reliving those painful experiences, hoping to do things better or at least without as much confusion during a time when you feel you're already in a fog.

So much of it has been a struggle.

My grandmother died one week after diagnosis. My friend's mom passed away 8 years after Alzheimers diagnosis, but only hours after becoming critically ill.

For the life of me, I cannot understand why we were forced to sit for two weeks with Barbara while she died. Was 6-7 years of Alz not painful enough? Did we all need to go through more suffering? Why?

Those two weeks have pushed me to ask God why, something I don't often do. He has not offered any clear answer, no direction as to a purpose.

I see our friend and my husband grieving, struggling with the loss. Wondering why this has happened? Asking how to go on with life. Angry that their moms are gone and nothing can fill the void. I find myself angry because I can't be enough. I question why God can't and won't give them a peace that is not of this world.

The only thing I have found to be comforting is this...It is not my cross to bear. I can walk with them, hold their hands. But the loss, it's not mine. It's not theirs either.

God never designed us to take all the grief or all the pain on ourselves. He never designed us to carry it all. That's why he gave us Jesus. Alzheimers wasn't even theirs to carry. They weren't punished and they weren't chosen for the disease.

They, like many others, had a disease because we live in a fallen world. We were designed to be perfect, but live in a fallen world where disease and pain can take us down.

There is only one promise in all of it. We will be made whole, healed, perfect. But, that doesn't ever happen in its entirety this side of heaven. Our promise, our hope, our peace is that these mothers are whole again now. God has fulfilled his promise in both of them.

Painful here in my flesh, but that is beautiful. My hope and prayer for my husband and friend is that they can hold onto that beauty.

Things are quite different when death occurs without that hope. Unlike my husband and friend, I don't believe my grandmother was converted before death. I don't have a hope of heaven with her. Don't get me wrong, it will be a happy day if I am wrong and she awaits in heaven. All signs point to that not being the case.

The promise of heaven, for me, makes grief a little bit easier. Death without belief is far more painful for a lifetime.

This Holiday Season - Part 2

Sometimes I forget that I am not the only one in this house who can have a tough time. This year has taught me that. It's taught me that sometimes I have to be the strong one. Sometimes I have to be the supporter.

My husband has dealt with a little bit of the post move emotions. He wasn't happy in Ohio, but he wasn't miserable. He also knew that it wasn't going to be possible for us to stay long term in Ohio.

Leaving his job of 17 years was the hardest part of our move. He is a loyal, dedicated person, a golden retriever of sorts. Big changes aren't his thing. He struggled. Even though he was unhappy and his company had no plans of making him happy, leaving was painful. He had built relationships. He also knew the evil as opposed to going where he did not.

Not only was leaving hard, but adapting to his new job has been harder than expected. The job isn't quite what it was advertised and he has been hit with a lot of stuff that no employee should have to deal with in their first two months on the job.

But the grief...the grief has hit him hard, knocking him to his knees.

There's nothing I can do. Nothing I can say. In fact, I usually do and say the wrong things and make it worse.

Everything seems to make his grief worse. His family dynamic has probably been the hardest. He has his dad and three other siblings. Each one is grieving in their own way and none of them are the same. There is also a break in the family, has been for several years now. There has been a lot of hurt amongst the siblings that can't seem to heal.

In addition, his dad seems to favor his younger two brothers. I know that it's normal for siblings to feel that way even though it isn't true. It does seem to be true here. He makes trips to KC the majority of weekends, but never makes the trip to see his oldest son. That is a hard reality for my husband, making him feel very unloved.

Now that we are entering the holidays, it has all smacked my husband in the face. The family dysfunction and the firsts of everything without his mom.

It is so hard to see him hurting. Who knew it would be more painful to be without her than to have her and her not be present in mind. I know his hurting will never go away completely, but will change over time. I also know that as much as I want him to not go through it, he has to. Grief is something we all must go through and nothing can stop it.

This Holiday Season - Part 1

When our whirlwind summer came to an end, one thing was waiting right there to smack us in the face. Reality!

That saying about staying busy keeps your mind off things is incredibly true. But also true, the thing you want to avoid will still be there when you slow down.

We each had the same things waiting for us, just in varying degrees. Grief and a multitude of emotions regarding our move.

For me...

Grief hit me. It was the sheer enormity of what we had been through this summer. This pillar of my husband's life was just...gone. I grieved over her, but mostly over what this loss would be for my husband. I grieved for him. For his pain, for his loss and for what I knew would be a struggle to move forward. 

I was probably hit with more of the emotions over the move. There were three things, I've had to work through. The emotions over leaving Ohio, feeling forgotten and the upcoming holidays.

It would be an understatement to say I was miserable in Ohio. I hated it. I was resentful. I couldn't leave fast enough. I have probably felt more guilt over not missing it than anything.

Don't mistake what I am saying. I loved our home, surroundings and how we grew during that time. But, that wasn't enough. I learned that I must have relationships. Real, trusting relationships. I did not have that in Ohio. I had acquaintances. I knew people. I had a couple people who I might have considered a friend, but the lack of communication since I moved would lead me to believe even that was dicey at best. 

I have never been in a place where people were so incredibly rude. Keep in mind, I don't mean everyone. But, my experiences weren't good. I found a lot of people who treated me as though I was beneath them and as though I didn't belong. 

There's not much use in going into this any further. I have moved on, literally. Forgiven. Forgotten. Let go of it all really. Outside of occasional Facebook contact, I don't have relationships with anyone. It is really ok. We do not have any plans to ever go back, so there will be zero chance we will ever see them again. 

One thing I am currently working through is the hurt I felt while in Ohio that was based here. Those feelings of being forgotten. It's a fine process of forgiveness, moving on and learning which relationships are most important now. Some have been easily repaired, while others have not. I know this is a part of life moving on and people changing. 

The upcoming holidays were a big part of what hit me. I skated through the holidays in Ohio relatively easy. We were either traveling or far away from it all or had visitors. I was fearful that the old emotions would creep back in and make them hard.

That hasn't been the case. There have been some emotion and there might be more. But, I started the holiday season by having my niece and nephew a few days. It did kick up some emotions, but not the overwhelming kind I had in the past. 

I'll share Kent's next.

Time Flies By

Time seems to be moving fast and in monthly increments. It has been four months since my mother in law passed away. It has been two months since we moved to KC. It is only a month until Christmas.

It has also been two months since I sat in a hotel room and wrote.

We are finally settling into a routine, finally finished working through the home issues.

In the days before we signed on our house, the sellers did not want us in the house. We would only later find out why. It wasn't the disaster that we had when we moved to Ohio, but it was a mess.

The house was filthy. Toilets were covered in feces, all three of them. Appliances looked as though they had not once ever been cleaned. White carpeted floors had been stained since our initial walk through, including pink nail polish and orange paint. Everything had to be cleaned, cleaned and cleaned again. Carpets had to be professionally cleaned.

There was a mess of trash and junk in the backyard. There was also a rickety giant trampoline and child's playhouse. We cleaned the yard and sent the toys with a friend.

There is not a wall in the house that does not have at least a dozen holes. Most are nail holes, but there were some larger ones. Oh, and they didn't bother to leave one bucket of paint for the color that the entire interior is painted. Ugh!

Our utilities were a mess as well. They did not abide by the contract and had them shut off. So, the house was a whopping 89 degrees on moving day. What fun!

There were a calamity of things that happened, but thankfully, we have moved past them all. We finished by getting the fireplace fixed last week. 

We will have to replace carpet in 3/4 of the house, HVAC, two doors, three toilets, one shower and one bathtub. All in due time. 

While dealing with the issues of the house, we also had problems with the move. It started with our bed not surviving a week upright in storage. Something inside it broke and we were off to get a new mattress the day after we moved in. And, with our luck as it is, we have also had to replace both the washer and dryer since we moved. 

Beyond the bed, our movers were a problem. We had many things get broken, destroyed or lost. They also turned our white carpeted stairs black. The good news is that they were stand up guys. They paid for carpet cleaning and to replace everything that was broken or lost. 

Despite all that we dealt with to get here, we held onto one thing through it all. We are home! We would go to bed exhausted and mentally drained, but thankful we were home. I'm not sure if this would have happened any place else, we would have been able to meet it with any grace at all. 

Now that we are home, it is time to enjoy. 

A Moment of Clarity

My mother in law had not had much clarity for several years. It was Christmas 2008 since she had recognized me.

ALZ had stolen her memory and her emotion. Sure she would get frustrated and angry, but she didn't show much emotion other than that. She hadn't cried or laughed. In fact, she was reduced to the equivalent of a 5-6 year old in mental and emotional capacity.

There were two moments of clarity during these three weeks. One for me and one from her.

One evening, my sister in law, niece and father in law all set making funeral plans by her bedside. She was awake and non verbal. It became very clear to me that she was listening. The problem was that she wasn't a 75 year old woman who was coming to grips with her mortality laying there. She was a young child laying there.

Can you imagine talking about a funeral in front of a 5-6 year old? I imagine she was scared and confused.

I began to get very angry. Inside I was yelling stop! It didn't feel right. It wasn't right. It had to stop.

The Wednesday before she passed away, she was laying in her bed looking at me. I was holding her hand and running my hands through her hair. She looked at me and smiled. That wasn't out of the norm. She smiled at everyone and told everyone she loved them. It was her thing.

But this smile was different. Just my husband and I were in the room. I told him to look at her, which was hard for him. Her eyes looked like someone was in there.

This was the day after the funeral planning ordeal. I instantly started to think about how I would want people to treat me. Treat me like I'm loved, human, confused and like you care. Treat me like a human. A real person.

So, I said the first thing that came to mind. I asked if she would rather be camping than laying here. She loved camping. Her eyes swelled and tears ran down her cheeks and she nodded yes. She had not cried, showed emotion. What was this?

I said her that I thought she would rather be camping and spending time with her kids. Big tears and big nods. I said you love your kids, don't you? Big smile, big tears and huge nod.

In that moment, I had her. It was all her and only her. She was there. She knew who I was, who Kent was. She knew who her kids were and she wanted to be with them. She was sad. I told her that she was going to be ok and that Jesus would take care of her. One more nod, more tears and then she closed her eyes.

After that, she wouldn't open her eyes much and would never communicate again.

I wish I had gotten it on video to share with the family. In that moment, you never imagine it'll be so brief or the last time.

Not that I am complaining, but it seems so wrong that I got her last moment of clarity. I wasn't one of her kids. I wish they had gotten it.

I suppose I got one more moment of clarity for myself after that day. It is a privilege to love someone, to share your life with someone who is so loved. I feel that way in my own relationship now. I want to love my husband as much as his mom did, so unconditionally. I want to honor and respect the love she had for him. I want to remind him of how much she loved him.

Funeral and Family

I have learned that when there is a major death in the family, one of two things happens. Either the family comes together or they fall apart. Mine, fell apart. This one, fell apart.

Each person has their own ideas and that never works when everyone is in high emotion. Some siblings planned, while others fell apart. It was a mess.

She looked lovely. She looked a lot like she did before she got sick. That was nice. Probably the nicest part of the service. She was well loved, it was a full house.

Unfortunately, nobody offered any personal info about her to the guy who did the service. So, it was a very impersonal service that didn't do justice to the person she was.

I did my best to stay out of the way and support my husband. I failed at times, but tried.

It was a trying, emotional time. Nobody was ready to let her go.

She had been sick for several years. She had known most of her family for at least six years or longer. We had been grieving and wanting her back for a long time.

I selfishly had wished for this day for a long time. Not because I hated her, but because I knew she would never have wanted to be the way she was. I knew she would be angry with what ALZ had done to her.

The day of her funeral, I had to most guilt I have ever felt. I wanted her back. I wanted my husband to have more time with her. I wanted her to bring everyone together. I wanted her wisdom and love. I wanted just one more hour with her, one more day.

As they wheeled her casket down to the car, it became so final. The finality that death brings here on earth. She was gone. As I saw the casket, felt the finality, my knees began to shake and buckle. I turned around and my friend, Tracy, was there. She grabbed me in a hug that kept me from falling to the ground and held me for what seemed like forever.

The graveside was short and sweet. It was there that I saw and felt the love of so many. In fact, I think there are so many who love this family more than they love one another.

We finished off with the meal and headed back home.

Hell Continued

The next morning, we asked the doctor if giving her fluid was helping her or hindering her. He said it was keeping her alive, but for what? She would not recover.

Throughout this process, her blood pressure and heart rate were dangerously high as well. We were actually a little surprised that she had not suffered a massive stroke or heart attack.

That morning, the family decided it was time to take meds and fluids away from her and give her pain meds only. She had very little ability to respond and slept most of the time. She had developed apnea and snored loudly.

When the fluid was gone, we expected her to go quickly. That wasn't the case. She was a tough old bird. Healthy in most ways. Strong heart and in her right mind, had a strong will to live.

His sister, dad, niece and us all stayed vigil at the hospital, never leaving her alone. We made sure she stayed clean and the nurses treated her well. Some didn't. We held her hand and put wash cloths on her head as fever set in during the last days. We used chapped stick to keep her lips hydrated as her mouth dried out.

We were miserable. It was hard watching her slowly die. Everyone of us dealt with guilt and anguish. Everyone questioned if it was the right decision, even if briefly.

The last Wednesday, we got a call at 4 am telling us the time was near. When we got there, we heard the "death rattle" and we thought they were right. The minutes and hours ticked by. The death rattle is a mechanical sound that haunts you for a long time. It doesn't even sound like it is coming from her.

She did finally quiet down, but stayed strong. Over the next day, her breathing became more shallow, fever increased, BP and pulse both began to fall.

That Friday, we had made a plan to take some time away and go to KC. Kent had an interview and we wanted to look at houses. Also, we had to take some time here and there to catch our breath and get a break from the heaviness of it all.

Friday, a little before noon, his sister called to let us know she was gone.

Weeks 2-4 of Hell

When his niece called, she let us talk to the admitting doctor. He told us him mom had a 5.5" brain bleed. He gave her a minimal chance of survival. Saturday morning, we were off.

She had been diagnosed a few days earlier with a UTI. Her condition deteriorated rapidly and within a day, she could no longer walk or talk. That Friday, she aspirated on even the smallest sip of water. At one point, she started having seizures. They took her by ambulance to the hospital. Not the typical signs of a UTI, they did a CT scan, which revealed the brain bleed. 

If you don't know already, brain bleeds are a common thing for people who have had alzheimers for a long time. Their brain atrophy (shrinkage) causes the blood vessels to become brittle and not supported. They break and bleed between the brain and skull. Smaller ones resolve themselves. This was not small. 

A 5.5" brain bleed was big enough that the pressure pushed her brain past it's center point, causing the seizure. The doctor was certain that she would never make it through surgery with any quality of life left. 

We expected her to be non responsive when we arrived Saturday night. Not the case. She had her eyes open and was mumbling. We also found a family confused and angry and torn apart.

The next day, she began speaking words and assisting the nurses who moved her. We weren't seeing a woman close to death, but one who was improving. Talk about emotions. Wow. Nobody knew what to think, although some siblings felt there was some crying wolf involved. 

They had continued to treat UTI with antibiotics. She continued to improve and appear to be back to her verbal baseline. By Monday morning, the doctor had the family convinced that she was improving and was ready to start physical, occupational and speech therapies. Monday evening, she was eating thickened liquids and ground foods.

Tuesday and Wednesday, she sat on the edge of the bed and stood up with assistance. The doctor was still clear that she was in end stage ALZ. The family had to decide where she would go when she was dismissed in a few days. Hospice care vs. home care vs. nursing home. It was a point of contention amongst everyone.

His dad wanted her home, but it was obvious that there was not enough physical care. It was also hard for some of the family to wrap their heads around the 'end stage' part of this. He believed she had less than six months and some couldn't envision that.

Soon, that decision was made for them. Wednesday night, she took a turn and one she wouldn't recover from. 

Despite the doctor's opinion, the UTI was not her biggest problem. The brain bleed was. She stopped assisting with moving. She stopped responding to verbal command and conversation. She was more lethargic.

Thursday, my husband spent all day with her. He kept texting saying that he didn't think she was just having a bad day. He thought she was dying. He fed her jello and cried the entire time. That night, I tried to feed her jello and she aspirated. The nurses and doctors all decided that she needed to stop being fed. 

An on call doctor came in that night and had a very serious talk with all of us. He said that he believed the brain bleed was taking it's toll on her and that she would not recover. He said that she was going to deteriorate until she was gone.

Four Weeks of Hell

We were supposed to take a week of vacation the first week of July to visit Kansas. We didn't because my husband didn't feel like he could get away from work. So, we planned a weekend away over July 4th to Amish Country in Ohio.

A week before that, we learned that our checking account had been wiped clean. Some creep had skimmed my debit card number and stole all of our money. Talk about feeling violated and drained emotionally. After all the crap we went through with family and fraud, it was hard. 

We took our mini vacation anyway and had a relaxing three days. We walked around some Amish communities and relaxed at the hotel. 

When we returned home, the interviews continued and we started making lists of things we needed to do to get done to put it on the market. There wasn't a lot, but some clean up and organizing to make the house look more presentable. 

The Friday after the fourth, we got a call we expected to get sometime in the next few years. 

Kent's mom had been hospitalized.

Contracts and Change

Even though we tried, Ohio never felt like home to us. We knew going in, we had two years to fulfill my husband's contract. That contract expired in early May.

In late April/early May, I spent two weeks visiting the KC area. It was a lot fun, but a lot stressful. Visiting KC was always a priority, but we were miserable. There was never enough time to do everything we wanted and see everyone we wanted. Even the two weeks I had here wasn't enough.

Returning home, I told my husband that I was ready to be home. It's too stressful trying to get everything in even during two weeks.

But, we both were unhappy. I don't really need to go through all the reasons again. It's easier to just say Ohio never felt like home and we never felt a strong connection to the people. The people were great, but it isn't a place for outsiders.

By the end of May, my husband was a hot mess. He was sleeping only a few hours a night, waking up stressed over work. He started having signs of an ulcer and regular stomach pain. He was grouchy and shared daily complaints of his bushel (my term, not his). It was obvious that he had reached an all time low in his job.

In early June, he decided it was time to find something different. We knew with his skill set, we would have to move to find another job. I gave my boss a heads up and he spent night after night applying for jobs.

It seemed like there would never be any interest in him. But, after a few weeks, requests for interviews started rolling in daily. He spent lunches and hours after work on phone interviews.

There was disappointment. Some phone interviews resulted in a definite no or no response at all. There were some he definitely didn't want. He applied and interviewed for jobs all over the nation. Jobs in Colorado, Michigan, Minnesota and near beaches appealed to me. Jobs in New York, California, Arizona and near beaches appealed to him.

We both agreed that he should apply for everything. I kept telling him, "if you throw 100 stones, you'll eventually hit something." So, he did. Even back in KC.

We had some strong feelings about returning home. We didn't want to, or at least that is what we both said to each other. We knew we both had some family issues that we weren't ready to deal with and staying far away seemed like the right thing to do.

By July, it was obvious that he was likely going to have at least one offer come in and we would be moving.

Between July 1 and the first job offer, a lot of life happened and things changed in big ways...

Time to Catch Up

Back in April, I decided it was in my best interest to close this blog and move on. A lot of my decision was about holding a job and needing some anonymity from the people I worked with and for at the time.

Starting a new blog was far bigger of a change than I had thought. I didn't like it. I had followers, but it didn't feel right to me. After a few posts, I abandoned the blog and kept to myself.

In that short time, there has been so much change in my life. A crazy amount of change.

We have moved, both left our jobs and started life over again. We actually have moved back home. So, it felt right to return to my home here in blogosphere.

And, since I'm currently sitting in a hotel room, there's no reason to not get started with a little of what's been happening.

Anonymity and the New Blog

The worst kept secret in my life is how difficult the past two years have been. I feel like I've reached a point. Maybe it's a turning point, maybe it's a point of no return. I'm not sure yet. What I do know is that there must be changes going forward or the thing that's going to break is me.

This blog has been and always will be a place for me. I've never written for anyone else, just me. It's been good for me. I've been able to look back at things that have been good, difficult and stretched my faith.

Over the years, I've shared my blog with people who I trusted enough. Enough to to be vulnerable. I've shared it with people who have wanted to know more about me and my journey.

I've also found that my blog, whether by design or accident, has fallen into the hands of people I wished it had not. There have been times I've been harassed. I've had my words used against me. My blog has even become a source of rumor and gossip for those who's hearts haven't been so kind toward me.

While there's been good, the bad has been hard. I need to good. I need everything that this blog was meant to be. But I feel the need for some self preservation. I need for people who don't have my best interest in mind to no longer be a part of my blogosphere.

In order to have those two things, it's with great sadness to say this blog has come to an end.

I'm still going to blog. Like I said, the good and healthy part of this is too good to let go. There is a new blog. One that will allow me a bit more anonymity.

Now, if you are a personal friend or someone who is a regular reader and would like the new blog, feel free to contact me. I'll be happy to have you continue on this journey with me.

Chair Victory

We spent yesterday morning furniture shopping. The love seat I set on is about worn out. It's not old. But when we started to use it daily, we learned the quality wasn't what we expected. My husband's chair has been with us for about ten years. It's been broken and fixed and broken again. The move proved to be its undoing and it's not been the same for two years.

So we set off with a plan, but two completely different ideas on what we wanted. He was content for us to have two completely different chairs. He wanted a rocker recliner with a handle for the recliner. I wanted an oversized recliner or love seat. I wanted matching colors or colors that would compliment our couch.

Store after store, we found things that were ok. Not exactly what we wanted, but tolerable. It became clear that we were growing even further apart on what we wanted.

Our last stop before lunch was an Ashley store in Dayton. I immediately found my oversized recliner. My husband, a shock to me, set down in a plush rocker recliner with electronic controls. Up. Down. He was impressed with the mechanics and comfort.

Then we started to talk about my choice. They didn't match nor compliment the couch. My choice also looked like an opportunity for me to sit in awkward positions and hurt my back. After some discussion, I sat down in my husbands choice of recliner. I loved it. So comfy.

It took all of a few seconds for us to say...two please! Of course there was a time of dealing and price discussions. They made us a deal. They even deliver clear down to us. Not something we've found easily in Dayton.

You might think the fact we came to a decision in 30 minutes is the victory. And maybe it is. But, that's not the victory for me.

About 4-5 years ago, we had to throw my recliner out. We literally hauled it to the dump. It wasn't old. It wasn't broken. It stunk. My chair, over time, had been saturated by urine. Not by pets or us, but an abuser who used urination as a form of exerting control in our house.

It's sick, yes. But it was a reality of the often tortured life we lived when we had a close proximity to my dad. There's a long list of the ways he showed control in our home. He needed to be the alpha, even when my husband wasn't even aware.

Living over 700 miles away from him now makes his reign in our lives over. It is glorious!

Since we threw out my recliner, I've sat on the couch or love seat. I didn't want a chair. I didn't want something of my own for him to mark and defile. I won't lie, Part of that is shame. I didn't believe I deserved anything of my own.

When we got home yesterday, I was overwhelmed. There's a part of me that had a "haha you can't destroy my stuff" moment. The best way I can describe what I felt was victory. I get to have something of my own and know it won't be destroyed.

Buying any furniture is usually a hassle. I know, we've done it. But there's nothing better than buying furniture and having it be part of the victory over the past, the abuse and the abuser. There aren't enough of those victories, so they should be celebrated and acknowledged.

I'm an Extrovert

Talk about a moment of self discovery or at least submission to who I am. For the first 32 years of my life, I hid in a darkness that was all about repression and maintaining a lie. A past that left me with a severe case of PTSD. PTSD allowed me to live the life of an introvert. Falsely, so my anxieties weren't triggered by strangers and uncomfortable situations.

But...and it is a big BUT...the truth is that I love people. I love talking with people. I love sharing and listening. I love understanding how people work and embracing differences. I love communication and debate. I love simple and complex. I'm Monica and I'm a social butterfly.

Now, if you walked by me in a store or sat behind me at church, you'd probably guess me to be an introvert. You'd find even in small groups, I'm quiet until comfortable. You might even think I'm standoffish.

Honestly, that's what PTSD does to an extrovert. It leaves a propensity to be fearful around strangers or in groups of people. No worries, there's an extrovert hiding and waiting for the waves of anxiety to pass so there can be true freedom in embracing who I am.

Why? Why have I been thinking through this so much lately?

A couple weeks ago, I believed I was entering into a depression. Things weren't so bad, so why depression? My depression is almost always situational. It's usually related to an event or memory or anniversary. Therefore, my depression is cyclical. Sometimes worse than others, but I can mark it on a calendar.

February and March tend to be some of my better months. So, the depression was unexpected. I suspected it wasn't true depression. I was moody and angry. I'd snap at the smallest things. My life wasn't so terrible, so why?

I'm not the kind of person who is content to just go through a tough time and not understand. I want to know. I want to understand myself. I want to be self aware. I want to be proactive and make adjustments if needed.

Here's where I landed.

It's been two years since we moved. I'm unhappier now than when we moved. That's a measurable consideration.

When we were told we would be moving, I believe we were about the happiest and most content we had ever been in our married lives. I'm not saying life was easy or that we were without struggles. We were still trying to manage some major changes with family and church.

But, we had something special. We had a marriage that was strong. After a rough go, we had a new church family. We were truly happy for that short time in our new church home. Remember, we joined one Sunday and found out we had to move a week later. It was short. We enjoyed our Sunday school class, Wednesday night study and our Sunday mornings. We were developing relationships. We were amazed by that given we had been visiting only about five months. I had a women's bible study group where I fit and was loved.

We had friends outside church. There were couples and families we spent time with and holidays. We learned a balance between new and old relationships, especially since it was old and new church friends. I had a tremendous support system. I can't even describe what I had. I had someone I could count on at all times. People who knew me, knew what made me different and accepted me.

I had an adoptive family. I had a senior couple who were and are like family to me. Distance is hard, but there's always open arms when we visit. We had a good balance in our relationship with some family members. Good balance really means, we had a system that worked for us and caused the least amount of pain and anguish.

We didn't have money. We didn't a lot of possessions. But, we were happy. Our happiness was grounded in the things that mattered the most. Faith and family. Family being a broad term.

When I consider how much of that we have here, there's very little. As we discussed last week, we feel like we packed up and moved to the desert.

That happiness was replaced for a time with the excitement of the new. Now, there's an anger that's left. I have to believe I'm somewhat normal.

Understanding who I am has been a part of this struggle. Being an extrovert in a desert is a tough place.

As I was listening to Danny Gokey's "Tell Your Heart to Beat Again," I found exactly where I'm at. I don't live there any more. I don't know what that looks like. I don't know exactly how to make it happen. I don't know how to let the doors close on what we left. I don't know how to let my heart to beat again. I don't how to be happy in the desert. I want to. I want to be happy again. I'm ready though. I'm ready for my heart to beat again.

Reality of Alone

It is a beautiful spring day. We celebrated a risen savior this morning. Yesterday, we wrapped up a relaxing week of vacation. There's much to be thankful for today. Yet, we've had this overwhelming feeling of being alone.

Usually, it's just me. I'm the one who feels stranded in life alone. But, it's hitting us both. 

Part of the problem is that we are rolling into the two year anniversary of our move. It's still a struggle for us socially. We don't feel there's a place for us. We spend weeks or longer without conversations with anyone besides each other. 

On vacation, we found ourselves wishing we had friends or family to share with or even tell about the trip. Don't get me wrong, we know people. I have daily contact with one friend back home via text. Unfortunately, there's not much room right now for me to share. There's just no closeness. No relationships that are natural and close. 

Today being Easter hasn't helped. Again, make no mistake, I understand what Easter is about. 

We went to church. The music and testimonies were wonderful. The church was packed. There were families, friends and visitors. For us, it was similar to most Sunday's. We felt alone in a church full of people. After turning to everyone around me, one person finally shook my hand. 

This is not much different than usual. There's maybe a hug and one or two handshakes. We mostly look around at all the other people greeting and happily chatting with others during the greeting time. It's awkward and hard. 

As we talked about it at lunch, I scanned the restaurant. We were the only couple. Everyone else was with family or friends. Holidays have a way of reminding of our loneliness. Holidays are for spending time with family. We do ok most other days. But holidays slap us in the face with the reality of not having children and not having family.

Something else we've discussed is that nobody knows us. We have a handful of people who know a little or know testimonies. But that's it. In fact, if something happened to us while on vacation, I'm not sure anyone would miss us for a good long while.

I've prayed, we've prayed. We've even prayed for God to take away our desire for family or relationships. We've prayed for contentment in being alone. That hasn't happened either. So, we aren't sure what God has planned. We don't know how to understand what's going on here. As my husband's contract comes to an end, we have to consider if this is Gods way of telling us it's time to go.

If it seems like I'm down or discouraged, I am. I feel distant from God, completely unable to understand what he wants from me. Not sure what is next. 

Monday?

Today was one of those days. No, not a bad day. It started out great. I woke up and got a lot of work done. I felt accomplished. I was tired, but had a fairly easy day planned. It should have been easy.

But here I am about to go to bed and broken down, tears and all. My day didn't have to end like this. It wasn't anything I did and it wasn't one specific thing. Maybe it was wrong place, wrong time. Maybe it was taking on too much. Maybe it was being vulnerable. Maybe it was an underlying pain that wasn't addressed. Maybe I'm tired.

I've been giving a lot lately. Doing things outside my comfort zone and even inside. This season is busier than usual. My tank has run empty. I've had anxiety and my own sadness that's gotten pushed aside.

I won't point fingers, but my day did have a lot of outside influence. Things and people who did their best to crush me with negativity. People and situations that made me feel as though I'm fighting hopeless battles. All of it. It all left me laying here crying out for God to take it all. I don't want it. Can't do anything about it. Can't fix it. Don't think I'm representing Him well.

There are so many people who'd say just brush it of. Let it go. You are too blessed to be stressed. I've heard it all. Yes, those work sometimes. I'm empty. My emotional tank is running on fumes. It has for a long while now. Do you know how far you get on an empty tank? Not far at all. You know how much you can donate when your bank account is empty? Not much. That's where I'm at emotionally.

Really, I'm no different than most other people. I think a lot of people run on empty a lot. Maybe the difference is that I'm willing to say it.

All evening, I've searched for the right word to describe how I'm feeling. I don't say this without a lot of consideration, but I think hurting might be right. I've not lost anything or anyone. It's not that I'm being overly sensitive with my feelings. But I do feel like I've been a verbal punching bag for people lately. I do feel a bit lost, alone. I definitely feel unwanted, not needed.

I'm not sure what to do. Some of this is ongoing. Some of this has been a struggle since we moved. I don't know how to change it. I know not every night ends like this, but more and more often they have. I don't have to think, I know. When my tank isn't empty, ordinary days that take minor turns are a lot easier for me.

Extended Stay

As of April 30th, we will have been here in Ohio for two years. Where has the time gone? Oh goodness, has it only been two years? That's a conflict we both feel. So long and so short.

Currently, we have no plans to move back or anywhere. My husband may or may not look for other opportunities, but we will be or stay wherever God would have us.

There's no surprise to anyone who knows me well that socially I am still struggling socially. I don't need to go into all the reasons why. It is what it is and time is possibly the only thing that will change it. Two years ago, I had constant contact with people. Everyday. I spent six years having someone with me everyday of my life, all day long. Since moving, I have limited contact with anyone. Working in the church office does give me a tiny bit more weekly contact with people.

Also not a surprise, one of my KC friends has seen this struggle in me. A couple weeks ago, she invited me to KC for an extended stay. It sounded glorious. I immediately said yes. Then just as quickly realized I'd have some details to work out.

My job. I have a job now. Thankfully, that was easily worked out. My puppy. Remi is a year old, but can't be left alone not kenneled. It wouldn't be fair for me to leave him for an extended period of time to be kenneled while my husband is at work. That was worked out by an additional invite for Remi. Travel. I don't fly or drive much at all. I certainly don't drive in the city. That worked out by planning around a friends road trip to Ohio.

With no obvious obstacles in the way, Remi and I are set to spend some quality time in KC this spring.

There's an excitement. There's also a boat load of anxiety.

I have scheduled a hair appointment with my friend. An eye appointment with my favorite doc. Lunch with a couple people and a couple girls dates with another friend. A play date for Remi with his brother who just went to KC and a few other things.

I'm almost two months away from our trip and I already have anxiety. First of all, we are stay in a home with no pets. I am fearful Remi will be naughty. He's always been good when we've traveled. He's a well traveled pup. He went on his first road trip at eight weeks and made a 15 hour trip to Kansas at three months. Kansas and Missouri multiple times, Indiana, Kentucky and Florida. We've stayed in hotels, condos and homes. Outside of pooping on the floor maybe a couple times, he's been perfect. I probably don't have a lot to worry about, but I do.

With very little exception, I don't have much contact with friends in KC. It isn't that I don't care or they don't care. Life has moved on and we've lost touch. Some have changed a lot in two years, while others have remained consistent. But, there's a distance there. I'm afraid that they will be busy or not interested. There's nothing I'd like more than to see them as if nothing has changed and no time has passed.

My inclination is to plan to see my brothers family. Except my niece, I've not seen any of them in over a year. There's so much turmoil that comes with that. I can't even think about it without a near panic attack. Not seeing them causes almost as much anxiety.

I do fear being homesick, missing the other dogs and my husband. I'm afraid I'll be lonely and the trip will be wasted.

My birthday also falls during that time. I'd not really thought about it much since last year, but I'm very blah about my birthday this year. A bit resentful that my 40th was such as bust. I just don't care about this one. The one before sucked too. I know it'll be fine and I have extremely low....no...expectations.

Don't get me wrong, I am thankful for the opportunity. I have two people who are going above and beyond to make it happen. I know one of them has and will continue to pray. I don't have a bad attitude about any of it. It's just something new. It maybe exactly what I need. It maybe an experience better had only once. I'm sure I'll work through some of the anxiety.

4+1+2

At present time, we have seven dogs in the house. Yes, seven. My head feels like it could explode.

Last year when we got our puppy, I befriended the lady who had him. Outside of Facebook and a couple play dates for the pup and his older brother, I hadn't spent much time with her. And, given everything I do know, she's not like most of my other friends.

At Christmas, her dog had another litter of pups. Oddly enough, two of my KC friends decided they wanted her puppies. No problem. I'm always up for a visit from friends. It's also exciting that Remi could have siblings to play with in KC.

The plan was set for one friend to pick up the pups this week.

Two weeks ago, I got a frantic text from the lady with the pups. I needed to pick up the pups that day.

There were five pups initially. They were all of 5 1/2 weeks old when she sold the other three. Ohio has strict laws on selling puppies, even if you aren't a breeder. They must be eight weeks old, have shots and be wormed. Anything less than that is a misdemeanor. I had a huge problem with the pups being weaned and sold at 5-6 weeks.

Anyway, I knew how excited my friends were for their pups. They were buying toys and reading puppy books. I had to go get the pups.

The woman and her husband had fought, he was drunk and hit her. The husband was in jail and she had gone to stay with family. They have several cats and four dogs in a small trailer.

I knew it was coming and was prepared, but she asked us to take Remi's older brother.

When we arrived at the trailer, all the animals were locked inside. Cold (the high was 10 degrees that day), no food or water and the place was a disaster. They'd had no attention for at least 12 hours. It was very clear what was and would happen if we had declined to take the pups. They would continue to be neglected.

We discussed it. We should take the pups for two weeks and decide what to do with the older brother later.

When we got home, they weren't allowed to be in the house until everyone had flea baths.

The pups were in ok condition. They were covered in fleas and smelled of urine and poo. Otherwise, they were healthy.

The older brother, that's a different story. He was saturated with fleas. He had long matted hair. He looked to be the size of Remi. During his bath, we discovered that wasn't the case. He was skinny. I could feel every bone in his tiny body. His claws were all 1-2" long. They were so long that he arched his back to walk and has permanently left an unnatural curve in his spine.

On looking at him closer, I found that he had a massive ear infection on one side. I've never seen a dog have one so bad. He also had never been to the vet, had shots or been wormed. He is also nearly five lbs underweight.

I spent two days angry over his condition and frustrated at pet owners who care but not enough. I love our Remi. This dog, he looks like Remi only with different hair. They have the same disposition and habits.

So, we had the dog to the groomer and vet in the first two days. He's got more visits to both in the coming weeks.

It was obviously traumatized. It took him three days to warm up to Kent. He also spent several days trying to figure out his place and get comfortable.

In our second week now and he's at home. He's ours. He loves us and we love him. He's calm, rarely barks and plays with the others. We'd thought about rehabbing him and finding him a good home. But, he seems to have become a part of our family. I am also not sure I want to add any trauma.

The past few weeks have been extra stressful with all the extra dogs. The pups are always into something.  They've ruined furniture and our carpet. Our house smells so bad. But thankfully, they leave in two days.

I've had a lot of thoughts about all this. I never wanted five dogs. Only our oldest and youngest dogs were purchased as pups. All the rest are rescues. This new addition is fairly low maintenance outside of health issues. It wasn't a huge change to go from four to five. Of course except we went four to seven and will go back to five.

It's also been a picture of how one persons sin spreads like a fire. It doesn't just effect that person. It touches everyone. The woman's life is turned upside down and so are her grown kids. Grandkids who had known her husband as their grandpa. Extended family and friends. Our lives changed and we definitely got hit with a lot of unexpected expenses. That's not a complaint, but a conviction about my own sin. It doesn't effect just me.

The puppies leave in two days and I think we will finally get to settle into our new normal. I can't wait.

Tight Circle

Do you remember when you were a kid and the adults told you to leave the room so they could talk privately? What about going to a parade and being too short to see over the crowd? What about being on the playground and the cool kids were all in a circle and you weren't included?

I remember those times. I wanted to be included, to see what was going on, to feel a part of everyone else.

That is how we feel living here. We feel that way. This isn't a complaint or whining.

In KC, none of this mattered. There were thousands of people and our lives intersected with many others at any given time. It was a common thing. Social groups and communities were completely different there and usually open.

When we got into the church, we found that to be a little different. But even so, there was usually an open group of some kind once we were more known in the church.

There's a good reason we really do want to stay here. We've seen this community and we love it.

We've seen them in tragedy and in everyday life. They exude this deep love and compassion for each other. We've seen multiple generations of families and friendships made generation after generation.

It's not perfect by any means. It's a small town with small town problems. There's gossip and occasional back biting. But, the love overshadows it all.

We want to be a part of that. Who wouldn't? It's beautiful to see a community so engaged with each other.

I've talked with a very minimal number of outsiders, people who have moved into this area. They see it too. They also feel like we do, on the outside.

We've talked about, tried to figure out how to not be on the outside. I've looked for books. I've asked a trusted few. We've tried inviting people to dinner. We've tried accepting every invitation we are given. We've tried the most popular suggestion....time. It's hard to quantify that.

Our attempts, mine especially, have failed and sometimes in epic ways. Even though our attempts have failed, it's truly a compliment to the people in this community. We are saying, we see why you have and we like it. We like it so much, we want to be part of it.

Perception vs. Reality vs. Truth

For the past month, there has been a great deal of twisting and turning in my heart and mind. There has been so much thinking back on church life, comparing perception, reality and truth.

When I started going to church, I had perceptions of what church and Christians should be like. Then there was the reality of church and Christians really were. Then there's the truth, what the bible says the church and Christians should be.

It struck me a few weeks ago that I am now one of those people who knows the words of nearly every song being sung. I know, it sounds like a simple thing. Not a big deal. Eight years ago, it was a big deal to me.

When I started going to church, I knew none of the music. It was a big deal to me. I love music. I live singing. But I hadn't been exposed to church music. I didn't know it. When the slides didn't work, I was lost. That wasn't really the worst part. The hardest part was that my perception was that everyone was smarter or better Christians than me. I felt so behind, so stupid. That was my perception.

The reality was that these people around me had grown up in the church and been singing this music for a long time, some decades. The reality was that exposure would eventually teach me the songs. Another reality was that knowing music was an indicator of faith, far from it. The truth was that the music part of the service wasn't about knowing the words. It was and is a time to praise God. Sometimes that comes in singing and other times that happens when we take in the words. It even happens when we just show up.

Another perception I had about church was that if someone has been in church their entire lives, they are far more mature than me. While this was sometimes true, not always. The reality is that years in church do not always equate to maturity. The truth is that each one of us has an individual walk with Christ, which matures at varying paces. There's no step by step that is the same for everyone in growing in faith. Someone who has been in church since birth may in fact be less mature than the recovering drug addict who accepted Christ only two years ago.

One of my hardest perceptions was that Christians were perfect and would be Christ like. This was as much my fault as a few Christians who presented themselves this way to me when I was new to the church. They hid their imperfect lives and lived a facade of being Christ like. The reality is that Christians are sinners and will do wrong. They will wrong you and me. It happens all the time, daily. The truth is that yes, Christians are to strive to be Christ like, but fail. The truth is that grace and mercy are the most vital christian values to learn. They are what allow anyone to have healthy relationships inside and outside the church.

These aren't new to me, but have been ever so real to me lately. We've been here for almost two years and we both still feel like we are in a foreign land. We have glimpses where we feel apart of this community, but they are fleeting. Part of that is us. Neither of us do well engaging with people we don't know, even though we've made attempts. The other part is that we are in a well established community with people who already have full lives, full social circles.

We never thought we'd still feel this way at almost two years. I often have to take individual situations and events and apply the perception vs. reality. vs. truth. Sometimes the problem lies in my perception of the situation or person. But sometimes the problem truly is in the reality. Those times hurt. And it gets hard to apply truth, grace or mercy. The hurt manifests in anger until truth can be applied.

Just yesterday, I had a second person in a month welcome me to the church as a visitor. We attend regularly and set in the same place. I now work for the church. We've been attending since May 2014. My husband serves during the service a few times a month. I was frustrated both times. Left church feeling completely outside. The reality is that one of the two had just come back after being gone a while, likely having no clue who we were. The truth is that despite my frustration with this or anything else, God has shown us many times where he wants us to be.

I've been a Christian for over eight years. However, I'd never consider myself to be a mature christian. I've got a long way to go. I think until that day comes, years and years away, I'll have to apply this thinking. I'll have to always consider perception, reality and truth.

Alcoholic

There hasn't been a lot of time to blog lately. Sure, I could blame holidays or busyness. That's not it. I'm tired, but for good reason. I'm a chronic insomniac, so I struggle to sleep anyway. But a few months ago, I was invited (pushed by God) on a journey with a dear friend.

During a random conversation, she confided in me that she was an alcoholic and was trying to quit.

Instantly, I jumped on board. If she trusted me enough to share her toughest struggled, it was my place to trust God to guide me in this journey with her. There was no question, I was to join her. Fight for her. Fight with her. Pray with her. Pray for her. Be there with her. Be there for her.

Let me be clear. I did not take this on as a project. I don't have a false idea I'm a savior for her. She's my friend. I love her. I went all in because God made it clear I needed to do it. I didn't think for a second it would be quick or easy. I never believed it would be an average relationship. I never thought I'd be able to throw a couple antecdotes or books at her and she'd be healed.

I knew this would be hard. I knew it would consume lots of time and energy. And it has. I'd give it all again and more if I could.

A few years ago, I watched a man my age spiral out of control with alcohol and die. It was painful for everyone who knew him and no doubt for him. There was a part of me that thought I would be damned if I watched another person I cared about die.

If you've never walked with an alcoholic in any capacity, it's easy to believe the person is choosing to drink or in control of their poor choices. Not so. The alcoholism is driven by misfiring in their thinking and brain. It's no different than someone having a propensity toward depression or anxiety. There's very little control.

Quitting is a long, painful process of rewiring thinking and getting to the bottom of base problem. It is hard. Painful. Easier to go back to drinking than address the issues. Many alcoholics fail. Some fail then succeed and then repeat. Over and over.

That is the reality on this journey. A reality that all need to know if they are going to be of any help at all. Those things have to be accepted so the expectations can be fairly set.

Thankfully, my friend is strong and truly does desire sobriety. When she's not melting down our friendship is normal. Remember, I love her. In good and bad times. So the good times are really good.

The bad times. Well...they are really bad. They scare me and bring me to my knees. Those times, I know just how inadequate I am and how much I must rely on God. He can and always will do far more than me.

Those times are hard and super emotional. It's almost always late at night. There's often talk of suicide or lack of desire to live. I won't lie. It drains me. Physically and emotionally. I will stay awake hours fighting the adrenaline from talking her off the ledge. It wears me out. I get angry. Not at her, but at the illness. There are hours of nail biting fear and pacing.

It sucks seeing someone you love hurt so bad they want to drink. It's also a constant balance of knowing how much you can allow and when to call for help. There are so many times when saying, "I quit" would be so much easier.

Let's be honest. Quitting would mean I'd miss the victories. The front row to seeing God work. Those moments are sometimes few, but bigger than any meltdown. The times when she decides not to drink. The fleeting moments when she admits life is better without alcohol. Those moments are worth it. Those small victories are worth giant praises to the Lord. I don't want to walk out on those.

So for now, I'll take tired days and sleepless nights. I'll take the late night texts, good or bad. I'll support and encourage. I'll trade rest for pleading on my knees. I know God has a plan in this. A plan for restoration for her and a growing of faith for me. I know it. I know God has allowed me to love this friend and will give me everything I need when I need it. I know God has given me a front row seat to see what he's doing. It's worth it. She's worth it.

Ready for the Beach

It should be a happy time. It had been a happy time. Going back to work was something I looked forward to for a long time. Working at a small church part time definitely fits what I need in a job. I certainly should be filled with excitement.

That excitement has been sucked away the past three days. In fact, I feel like everything has been sucked away from me the past few days. Energy. Life. General contentment.

It's not any one thing or one person. It's a variety of things. It's life. It's nothing by itself can't be handled in average, everyday ways. In fact, I normally let things go as if they mean nothing. I do my best at keeping things in perspective or extending grace. It's one of the many things I've learned and grown in being here. I'm not perfect, but far improved over how I used to be.

But have you ever felt like you were a punching bag for the universe or some greater power was at work to beat you down?

That is what the past three days have been like.

It's times like this when I am reminded of the many caviates of PTSD. Stress isn't filtered like normal. Reactions aren't appropriate to the action. Coping reverts to an unhealthy behavior.

Again, it's not just one thing or person. It's dealing with a medical issue, school loan problems, tax concerns. It's fighting a medical office for the fifth month in a row over a refund. It's people acting or reacting out of character and not understanding why. It's being dumped on by people who have no idea the building stress of the previous hour. It's having sudden expectations that you know can't be met. It's not having expectations met.

I know, most of that's vague but I think it's a good picture of just one day this week.

Last night was a monumental meltdown for me. After cleaning up the mess the neighbor's dog made of our trash, I was doing my best to let go of the stress of the day. Then, completely out of character, my husband picked that moment to yell at me.

He'd had a stressful day and was lashing out. I wasn't really the reason, but I was the closest target. We all do it and we do it most to the ones we love. I couldn't help myself. I burst into tears. Not really tears as much as this bawling, snot flying, heaving, hyperventilating, ugly thing that made my head and stomach hurt for hours after.

It's been a while since I've had one of those. You know the kind. The ones that make your spouse stand in silence and freak out the dogs.

Today hasn't been much better. Tomorrow is my first real day in the office. I, like anyone else, am wondering what am I doing. Am I really cut out for this? Am I qualified? Can I handle it? Right now, I don't think so. When I was excited, I didn't question it. Now I do. Why wouldn't I? If I don't feel adequate enough to handle several really hard days, then I can't possibly be qualified to meet anyone's expectations of me. In a job or in life.

New Job

In a previous post, I mentioned some changes that were coming for us. Well, they are here.

One of the ladies who heads up our three county walk for Alzheimer's contacted me at the end of last year. She asked me to represent our town and join others in representing our county on the walk planning committee.

I took a few days to pray about it and discuss with my husband. It's his mom with the disease and he's the more appropriate one to represent her. But he works during the meeting times, making it impossible for him to go. I accepted and will be attending monthly meetings through September.

The biggest change for us is my job. That's right. I'm headed back to work. This week, I started working part time at our church.

I spent over three years volunteering at one of our previous churches and have volunteered at this church. The biggest difference is being paid. Skills needed, expectations, time, they are all very similar to what I've done in the past.

But my anxiety level has spiked the past few weeks in anticipation of this change. Don't be mistaken, I'm excited. It'll get me out of the house, give me purpose and help keep me in a healthier routine. But I'm so incredibly nervous. Really, it's a mixed bag of emotions.

Truly, I'm honored and humbled to have someone (probably several) believe in me enough to trust me in this position. If you knew the progression and sequence of events, you'd better understand that.

Believe me when I say, I still have a lot to prove. Even though this church is small, I only know a small portion and very few know me. Some don't even know my name. In fact, I had the same lady welcome me as a visitor this month twice even though we've been members for over a year.

There are people who don't know me, people who don't like me and people I think don't like me but more likely just do not know me. I'm a new face. We are transplants. I'm a stranger to the majority. We don't have relatives here and knew only one member before visiting the church.

In very small ways, I've been serving this church. Now I'll be doing it with a face, name and expectations. Friends and strangers, I'll be serving them all. I'm excited, but nervous.

Since we joined the church, I've prayed for direction and for God to show us where we should be serving. God answered that prayer in a big, obvious way. While praising Him, I'm reminded of the great responsibility He has laid upon me. Not to be perfect. But to be an imperfect servant who does their best to love people, serve with joy and to acknowledge His faithfulness.

When I say my anxiety has spiked, I'm not understating that. It's a huge change for both of us. It'll take some trial and error to develop a new routine. I'm a homebody. It'll be hard to leave home a couple days a week. I also don't want to neglect my place as a wife. I've enjoyed being a stay at home wife, especially since the move.

It's only honest to admit I have a great fear of failure. In all I do, I want to succeed. I'll do my best. But I fear failure. I fear letting people down. Over the past few weeks, I've convinced myself over and over that I'm not adequate for the job. So many times, I nearly backed out. It was a near panic stricken conversation after church last week when my husband talked me off the edge.

Even today, I felt like I was in over my head. I'm not, but after not working for six years, I sure felt like it. We talked about desks and work space. All I could think was, I just need a tiny bit of desk and maybe a file drawer. No fuss. Just simple. I was so nervous that it took me hours to think about things I might like to have on a desk.

Here's what I keep going back to in my overwhelm. God will give me everything I need to do what He's called me to do. It's been true in everything I have allowed God to lead me in. Imagine that!

I'm sure I will enjoy this new adventure. Even with the bumps along the way, I know this is where God is leading. I'm excited to see what is ahead.

Not Again

Things got a bit crazy the past month. When you throw some holidays, a long trip, house guests and two weeks of flu into one month, it all seems to meld together in one big pot of ugly.

Not again seems to be the overwhelming theme of our trip.

It is a huge undertaking to pack and haul two humans and four dogs across 1/3 of the country and back. Don't get me wrong, the dogs and us neither one are a major problem. It's just a lot of work and a lot of miles.

As suspected, the trip was not enjoyable. The travel was mostly uneventful and we made about the best time we've done so far.

Staying with my husband's parents was miserable. It deserves a post of its own. We ended up being at their house only two days, two very long days.

My husband's dad said this was the last year he would host Christmas at his house. After 50 years of a routine, this rattled my husband. He determined then and there, not again. We would not make the trek across country for Christmas or Thanksgiving. We might visit other times during the year, but no holidays.

I understand. An era has come to an end and he is choosing to not be a part of new traditions. If he were closer to his siblings, maybe. But he's not.

It's fine with me. Again, I repeat, it was miserable and I hate seeing my husband meltdown emotionally.

While there and in the midst of the flu, we took a side trip to Branson. Also deserving of another post. It rained. Not just a little. The heavens opened up and dumped 12" of rain on us in 3 days. The area flooded.

We took my niece with us. There's the not again. I just can't continue to open ourselves up to people, children or not, who don't appreciate spending time with us. It's all about how much we will spend on them and there's no appreciation for what we do. I'm exhausted by it.

Our trip home was a long one. Branson to Iola, Kansas and then to Effingham, IL. Then home the next day. We made the trip a day early since we were both terribly sick. Besides dodging floods, the trip home was uneventful as well.

There were a few things from the trip that redeemed the bad.

We got to spend a few hours with friends in the KC area. That time is precious. We also got a date night at one of our favorite restaurants. We saw all our favorite Christmas lights and enjoyed every second.

Our hotel in KC was paid for with points, so it was free. A dear friend set us up in a hotel on the way home. We'd been in the car 15 hours and could not do another 5 to home. We felt so loved at that moment.

It'll be a while before we make that trip again, maybe a year. I'm ok with that. What we miss is not yet greater than the moments of pain the trip brings.