I want to share a startling statistic with you:
In the first 6 months of 2011, there were approximately 226,000 reports of alleged child abuse (not including statutory rape). Of those, 24,075 or 10% were cases where the accused party was ages 13 to 17 and 17,250 or 8% were cases where the accused party was under age 13. Approximately, 20% of alleged child abusers were children. Keep in mind, this only counts the cases which were reported legally. There are many, many more silent statistics, cases that are never counted because they happened and were never reported.
I was a child who was sexually abused by another child. To be honest, I actually had a couple instances of being abused by other children. None were quite as extensive as with my cousin.
On occasion, I may have made mention of being molested by a cousin in my blog. I don't recall ever sharing much about it.
Having talked through some of these statistics with a friend, I realized that there are some general assumptions people make when they don't have abuse in their background.
1. Kids only abuse kids younger than them.
This is simply untrue. My cousin is younger than me. In fact, he was smaller and certainly had less physical strength than me until we were teens.
2. There must be something really wrong with a kid for them to abuse another kid.
This might be partially true in some cases. What I know to be true in my case and many others, this is a learned behavior. My cousin began abusing me when when we were 6. After seeing many 6-year-olds from average families, I do not believe that a 6 year-old just inherently knows sexual behavior. In our case, it was a learned behavior that came from both of us being abused by a grandparent.
3. It should be easier to tell if the abuser is another kid.
Again, completely untrue. As was the case with me, I had already been taught the golden rule that every abuser holds over the victim...you NEVER tell or something worse will happen. Especially as the older child in the situation, it is incredibly easy to believe you will be in big trouble if anyone found out.
4. Maybe kids take curiosity too far and it really wasn't abuse.
That is one of those statements that just makes me angry over ignorance. Not to be funny, but I know there is a lot of playground antics of "I'll show you mine if you show me yours." I understand that there is a point for kids when they do begin to have curiosity over the opposite sex and the physical differences. That wasn't the case for me and I'm guessing for many others.
5. When it is kids abusing kids, it probably doesn't happen multiple times.
I can only speak for my own experience here and tell you that was not the case. My cousin abused me from 6 years-old to 17 years-old. In those 11 years, it happened hundreds of times. In fact, it probably got more frequent as we got older. As my cousin got older, he got more aggressive and more active. Once he began driving, he probably got the most active. For a couple years, it was nearly everyday after school.
6. Kids who share abusers wouldn't want to hurt each other.
This couldn't be further from the truth. I believe when kids have been abused, they look for situations where they can feel some control because there is a lot happening to them that they cannot control. In my case, I believe my cousin knew I was an easy target. He repeatedly saw that I adhered to the golden rule and lived with a lot of fear. I was easy for him to exert control over, being a vulnerable child with multiple abusers.
7. Somebody in the family had to have known.
I don't believe this is true. In fact, I know writing this in a public forum puts me at risk of someone finding out. I don't believe that anyone in my family knows besides him and myself. The only person who might have had a clue has been deceased for 14 years and was part of the problem. My cousin is married with children of his own now.
I certainly don't have any desire to disrupt his life, which is why I never mention him by name. It is unlikely he would ever admit to what he did. It is even possible that to this day, he doesn't believe he did anything wrong. Throughout my adult life, he has made mention of it to me. At various family gatherings, he would catch me alone in a room or corner and ask me if I ever told anyone about what "we" did. The last time he asked was about six years ago. At the time, the only person I'd ever told was my husband.
Honestly, it's my life, my story to tell. I can freely share what he did and know his feelings, thoughts or opinions are completely irrelevant to me.
While the statistics are startling, I believe the silent statistics are probably beyond what we can comprehend. That is where I fall...in the silent statistics.
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
Monday, July 30, 2012
The Let Down...
There is much more to write about in the last five days of the visit with the kids. Originally, it was the emotional ups and downs paired with the constant busyness that kept me from being able to continue sharing. Believe, there are things you won't be surprised by and things that are blow-your-socks-off amazing that are left to share.
Now, I sit here in the let down of it all. My house is quiet. I've almost picked everything up and nearly have everything back to where it belongs around the house. I've rested, napped and slept my way to feeling mostly normal again instead of exhausted.
The week was an emotional roller coaster and I've come to a lull where I don't want to feel anything. I want to be emotionally flat to give myself a break. I refuse to shed one more tear out of anger, joy or fear right now.
Mainly, I want to completely ignore the profound emptiness that's looming around every corner. All I did for a few weeks before their arrival was prepare for their arrival. I prepped physically and emotionally and it consumed at least a large portion of everyday. It goes without saying that I stayed busy from out of bed to bedtime every single day while they were here.
Now, there is just kind of nothing. I don't have a lot to look forward to and nothing to consume my time. It's fair to say that I'd forgotten what life was like prior to four weeks ago. Was my life really this empty?
Sure, I have somethings that I will hold onto for a long time as positive from the past week. To think about those would tap into that forbidden area where I don't want to go right now. But, emptiness can't be eluded.
It isn't anything new for me. It is my life. I live it and I know what little there is in it. By that, I mean I know I have very little to get up for in the morning and even less to keep me motivated throughout an entire day.
If there is one downfall to having the nine day visit with my niece and nephew, it is that their leaving has shined an even brighter light on all the things I dislike about my life. The lack of purpose, job, generally anything that makes me feel like my life is of any value.
It is crazy how something as simple as being responsible for a child can add so much purpose in your life. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for the time they were here....but man what crappy thing to have waiting for me after they leave.
Now, I sit here in the let down of it all. My house is quiet. I've almost picked everything up and nearly have everything back to where it belongs around the house. I've rested, napped and slept my way to feeling mostly normal again instead of exhausted.
The week was an emotional roller coaster and I've come to a lull where I don't want to feel anything. I want to be emotionally flat to give myself a break. I refuse to shed one more tear out of anger, joy or fear right now.
Mainly, I want to completely ignore the profound emptiness that's looming around every corner. All I did for a few weeks before their arrival was prepare for their arrival. I prepped physically and emotionally and it consumed at least a large portion of everyday. It goes without saying that I stayed busy from out of bed to bedtime every single day while they were here.
Now, there is just kind of nothing. I don't have a lot to look forward to and nothing to consume my time. It's fair to say that I'd forgotten what life was like prior to four weeks ago. Was my life really this empty?
Sure, I have somethings that I will hold onto for a long time as positive from the past week. To think about those would tap into that forbidden area where I don't want to go right now. But, emptiness can't be eluded.
It isn't anything new for me. It is my life. I live it and I know what little there is in it. By that, I mean I know I have very little to get up for in the morning and even less to keep me motivated throughout an entire day.
If there is one downfall to having the nine day visit with my niece and nephew, it is that their leaving has shined an even brighter light on all the things I dislike about my life. The lack of purpose, job, generally anything that makes me feel like my life is of any value.
It is crazy how something as simple as being responsible for a child can add so much purpose in your life. Don't get me wrong, I'm thankful for the time they were here....but man what crappy thing to have waiting for me after they leave.
Thursday, July 26, 2012
Monday and Tuesday Madness
After a much needed full nights sleep, I made my first attempt at waking two pre-teens up before 8 am. For being the first day, it wasn't too bad. Lucky for me they were satisfied with pop tarts on the way to their first day of Vacation Bible School.
If you've read any of my past posts, you probably know this is my neice and nephews first experience with VBS. They had plenty of questions, but were willing to give it a try. I picked them up and got to hear all about the fun they had, especially with water games.
We met a friend for lunch and the kids got their first experience with Costa Vida and the multi-functional pop machine. There are just too many flavors a kid can come up with when they have 100's of choices.
After lunch, we met some friends for laser tag. There's nothing like being encouraged to shoot at other people that gets kids all sorts of hyped up, especially boys. Laser tag was definitely a success.
We took the friends for ice cream, another round of cup of many flavors pop and then back home for a boys vs. girls round of Just Dance and Mario Kart on the Wii.
To finish out our night, we had dinner at another friend's house. The kids were self-entertained for hours by the old-school style video games, sports games, movies and personal driving range.
I was so thankful for a few hours to have them entertained and for adult conversation.
Tuesday brought day #2 for VBS. The kids did great, again. I might have used a little bribery to get them up a little faster. After stopping at McDonalds for breakfast, we were off.
After VBS, they shared with me that their snack of the day was a blue jello heart with whipped cream and a strawberry. My niece shared that the blue heart was because people were sad and the red heart was because God loves us. Ok, so she might not have gotten all the details, but it was music to my ears.
We headed to Chuck E Cheeses for pizza and games. What a deal! $40 for 1 pizza, 1 salad and enough tokens to last all of 30 minutes for two kids. Not to mention, for all their effort, we ended up with an inflatable mini guitar, a rainbow plastic slinky, 2 sweet tarts, 2 boxes of mini nerds and 1 prickly pencil topper. No matter how you lay it out, that place is just a rip off. And the pizza ain't that great either!
The kids were quiet, not even bickering, so I knew a nap was in the near future for all of us. I definitely needed it. Evidently, my nephew needed it too. He slept over 5 hours and was difficult to rise for dinner.
While my nephew slept, I got some fun one on one time with my niece. We grocery shopped first, then made dinner. She helped make fried chicken strips and pickles. To date, I think this might be my favorite part of their time here. It was so much fun having girl time with her.
If you've read any of my past posts, you probably know this is my neice and nephews first experience with VBS. They had plenty of questions, but were willing to give it a try. I picked them up and got to hear all about the fun they had, especially with water games.
We met a friend for lunch and the kids got their first experience with Costa Vida and the multi-functional pop machine. There are just too many flavors a kid can come up with when they have 100's of choices.
After lunch, we met some friends for laser tag. There's nothing like being encouraged to shoot at other people that gets kids all sorts of hyped up, especially boys. Laser tag was definitely a success.
We took the friends for ice cream, another round of cup of many flavors pop and then back home for a boys vs. girls round of Just Dance and Mario Kart on the Wii.
To finish out our night, we had dinner at another friend's house. The kids were self-entertained for hours by the old-school style video games, sports games, movies and personal driving range.
I was so thankful for a few hours to have them entertained and for adult conversation.
Tuesday brought day #2 for VBS. The kids did great, again. I might have used a little bribery to get them up a little faster. After stopping at McDonalds for breakfast, we were off.
After VBS, they shared with me that their snack of the day was a blue jello heart with whipped cream and a strawberry. My niece shared that the blue heart was because people were sad and the red heart was because God loves us. Ok, so she might not have gotten all the details, but it was music to my ears.
We headed to Chuck E Cheeses for pizza and games. What a deal! $40 for 1 pizza, 1 salad and enough tokens to last all of 30 minutes for two kids. Not to mention, for all their effort, we ended up with an inflatable mini guitar, a rainbow plastic slinky, 2 sweet tarts, 2 boxes of mini nerds and 1 prickly pencil topper. No matter how you lay it out, that place is just a rip off. And the pizza ain't that great either!
The kids were quiet, not even bickering, so I knew a nap was in the near future for all of us. I definitely needed it. Evidently, my nephew needed it too. He slept over 5 hours and was difficult to rise for dinner.
While my nephew slept, I got some fun one on one time with my niece. We grocery shopped first, then made dinner. She helped make fried chicken strips and pickles. To date, I think this might be my favorite part of their time here. It was so much fun having girl time with her.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
Travel and Home
Sunday was a rush trying to get everything packed. It's a lot harder when you add two more people.
I don't think anyone was really rested. That led to a long trip home. I learned though that if the kids had ipads, they would at least be quiet.
The kids and I headed to the church after we got back. It took some encouragement, but the kids started helping others get ready for VBS.
My niece had so much fun helping one of my friends that she wasn't ready to leave. She stayed to help for a few more hours. So different than I thought it would be.
We grabbed Little Caesar's, another first for the kids, for dinner. After a trip to Orange Leaf, it was back home for showers and an early bed time.
I realized Sunday that I am much more tolerable and tolerant when I am better rested. It's amazing how a lack of sleep effects so many facets of life.
Sunday was the day that I also realized that I was silently, sadly counting down the days until the kids would leave. They were already asking to stay longer, but I had no real expectation that would happen.
I desperately wanted to freeze time, hold onto this moment forever. Maybe not the particular day, but the week as a whole. I didn't want it to end, ever. I told myself, I'd just be happy that it happened and I'd not long for it to be longer. But I just couldn't stick to that.
I love these kids...what can I say.
I don't think anyone was really rested. That led to a long trip home. I learned though that if the kids had ipads, they would at least be quiet.
The kids and I headed to the church after we got back. It took some encouragement, but the kids started helping others get ready for VBS.
My niece had so much fun helping one of my friends that she wasn't ready to leave. She stayed to help for a few more hours. So different than I thought it would be.
We grabbed Little Caesar's, another first for the kids, for dinner. After a trip to Orange Leaf, it was back home for showers and an early bed time.
I realized Sunday that I am much more tolerable and tolerant when I am better rested. It's amazing how a lack of sleep effects so many facets of life.
Sunday was the day that I also realized that I was silently, sadly counting down the days until the kids would leave. They were already asking to stay longer, but I had no real expectation that would happen.
I desperately wanted to freeze time, hold onto this moment forever. Maybe not the particular day, but the week as a whole. I didn't want it to end, ever. I told myself, I'd just be happy that it happened and I'd not long for it to be longer. But I just couldn't stick to that.
I love these kids...what can I say.
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Day 2 of Branson
We got up a bit earlier Saturday morning to start our Silver Dollar City aka. Steal Your Dollar City adventure.
We had breakfast at one of our favorite diners. It is a cheap, fast place to eat with good food, but we are rarely phased by the old country singer that does live entertaining during the meal. The kids, however, thought that was pretty cool.
After breakfast, we took our bumper to bumper hour long drive to SDC. The weather was hot and the park was full. What can I really say about it?
Every line was at least a full, sweaty hour for rides. The kids hit the first water ride we found. I got some great pictures I will post later.
Our next stop was the Fabulous Willendas. We didn't have to wait in a line, but we ended up on the front row. That was quite an exciting hour. We were close enough to see them sweat and their nervous muscle twitches. They do an excellent show.
We had our over priced lunch before heading to the next water ride. Kent and I took turns going on the rides with the kids. Lucky me, I got the water rides. Kent got the roller coaster, spinning and rocking rides. I think taking turns gave Kent and I just enough rest to be able to keep going through 105 degree heat.
We caught the Gazillion Bubbles show in the later afternoon. I didn't think I could be that entertained by bubbles, but it was surprisingly fun.
At 9:30 that night, we finally decided to call it quits. I think the kids could have kept going, but we were done.
Back at the condo, I did laundry, packed, more laundry and cleaned as the kids watched tv for another several hours.
It was Saturday night that I realized I hadn't had one full conversation with my husband for two days. I also began to have a new respect for parents. I don't know how they do it. I suppose they probably grow into a bit while I got an 11 and 12 year old without any prep work.
By Saturday night, I was exhausted to tears. I hadn't and didn't sleep that great in Branson and looked forward to my own bed.
I knew it was all a success when I asked the kids their favorite part and they both responded, "All of it."
Again...so worth it!
We had breakfast at one of our favorite diners. It is a cheap, fast place to eat with good food, but we are rarely phased by the old country singer that does live entertaining during the meal. The kids, however, thought that was pretty cool.
After breakfast, we took our bumper to bumper hour long drive to SDC. The weather was hot and the park was full. What can I really say about it?
Every line was at least a full, sweaty hour for rides. The kids hit the first water ride we found. I got some great pictures I will post later.
Our next stop was the Fabulous Willendas. We didn't have to wait in a line, but we ended up on the front row. That was quite an exciting hour. We were close enough to see them sweat and their nervous muscle twitches. They do an excellent show.
We had our over priced lunch before heading to the next water ride. Kent and I took turns going on the rides with the kids. Lucky me, I got the water rides. Kent got the roller coaster, spinning and rocking rides. I think taking turns gave Kent and I just enough rest to be able to keep going through 105 degree heat.
We caught the Gazillion Bubbles show in the later afternoon. I didn't think I could be that entertained by bubbles, but it was surprisingly fun.
At 9:30 that night, we finally decided to call it quits. I think the kids could have kept going, but we were done.
Back at the condo, I did laundry, packed, more laundry and cleaned as the kids watched tv for another several hours.
It was Saturday night that I realized I hadn't had one full conversation with my husband for two days. I also began to have a new respect for parents. I don't know how they do it. I suppose they probably grow into a bit while I got an 11 and 12 year old without any prep work.
By Saturday night, I was exhausted to tears. I hadn't and didn't sleep that great in Branson and looked forward to my own bed.
I knew it was all a success when I asked the kids their favorite part and they both responded, "All of it."
Again...so worth it!
Monday, July 23, 2012
Few Moments to Breathe
I was sadly mistaken when I thought I would have more free moments of down time to share what this week has been like. This is the first time in three days that I've had a few moments when I've not been completely exhausted.
It has been a good busy.
Friday morning, everyone slept in which was greatly needed. We headed to Mr. Pecks for lunch, our favorite chicken place in Branson. There were fried pickles, fresh fried potato chips, cornbread and chicken for everyone.
From there, we headed out on our Duck adventure. It was so much fun to let the kids pick out taffy and then crawl onto the WWII style vehicles. It was so hot! The amphibious vehicles took us for a giant splash into Grand Lake where the kids became honorary captains of our floating truck. The multiple "that was so cool" comments that came was worth every sweaty second.
Our next event was the Dixie Stampede. I must admit that I wasn't looking forward to the show. Having been three times already and the kids having been just a year ago, I questioned the wisdom of this decision. The food was good. I mean how could you complain when you get a full meal you eat with your fingers only and watch horses, buffalo, pigs and chickens? Although everyone seemed to enjoy it, I still wondered if there would be some regret. As we walked to the exit after it was over, my nephew turned to me and said, "Thank you for bringing us, that was really fun." Again...all worth it for that.
Friday evening, the kids held their uncle to his rule that it's not vacation unless you have ice cream. That has turned into a rule that they are carrying through their vacation now. They picked Cakes and Creams for their treat for the night. It was fun to watch their amazement that they could order anything they wanted, even funnel cakes. We rounded out the evening with some swimming.
While everything physically went better than I could have asked for, the trip was already emotional. Not very often in my life have things gone the way I had hoped and even better. There were times when I waited for something to go wrong. There were moments where I had just a few minutes of silence and I fought back tears. Something I had dreamed of, hoped for, thought I would never again have was really happening. What an emotional high...
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.
It has been a good busy.
Friday morning, everyone slept in which was greatly needed. We headed to Mr. Pecks for lunch, our favorite chicken place in Branson. There were fried pickles, fresh fried potato chips, cornbread and chicken for everyone.
From there, we headed out on our Duck adventure. It was so much fun to let the kids pick out taffy and then crawl onto the WWII style vehicles. It was so hot! The amphibious vehicles took us for a giant splash into Grand Lake where the kids became honorary captains of our floating truck. The multiple "that was so cool" comments that came was worth every sweaty second.
Our next event was the Dixie Stampede. I must admit that I wasn't looking forward to the show. Having been three times already and the kids having been just a year ago, I questioned the wisdom of this decision. The food was good. I mean how could you complain when you get a full meal you eat with your fingers only and watch horses, buffalo, pigs and chickens? Although everyone seemed to enjoy it, I still wondered if there would be some regret. As we walked to the exit after it was over, my nephew turned to me and said, "Thank you for bringing us, that was really fun." Again...all worth it for that.
Friday evening, the kids held their uncle to his rule that it's not vacation unless you have ice cream. That has turned into a rule that they are carrying through their vacation now. They picked Cakes and Creams for their treat for the night. It was fun to watch their amazement that they could order anything they wanted, even funnel cakes. We rounded out the evening with some swimming.
While everything physically went better than I could have asked for, the trip was already emotional. Not very often in my life have things gone the way I had hoped and even better. There were times when I waited for something to go wrong. There were moments where I had just a few minutes of silence and I fought back tears. Something I had dreamed of, hoped for, thought I would never again have was really happening. What an emotional high...
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Friday, July 20, 2012
And so it begins...
The morning sun is shining down on the steam rising off the lake, while in the other rooms the kids are still sound asleep. I want to capture every moment possible during these quiet times so that I have something I can look back on after this time has passed.
After all the anxiety and anticipation, my brother's family arrived yesterday afternoon. My assumption was that there would be a short, awkward time of visiting, then they would leave the kids for another round of awkwardness. I couldn't have been more wrong.
Maybe it was because I had such minimal expectations that I was so incredibly pleased with how it went.
The awkward silence was buffered by my chatty sister-in-law. The kids were quiet at first, but quickly started to talk. We visited for over 90 minutes before we all went our separate ways. Even though it wasn't deep conversation, it was pleasant. To have my baby brother talk directly to me after all this time made my heart happy.
About 5:30, we loaded the car and headed to Branson. For having pre-teens, I think Kent and I were both surprised to only be asked once "how long till we get there?"
We shared occasional conversation, but mostly the kids listened to music, played on phones and ipads. It was fun for me just to watch them being kids.
After getting into town, we stopped at Culver's for dinner. The kids had never been to a Culver's and thought it was pretty cool you could get so much ice cream at a burger place. Keep in mind, the town we are all from has a Mexican and pizza restaurant. Neighboring towns have a few more chains, but very old and common ones.
I laughed a little on the inside as we finished dinner. I remember these kids who barely finished kiddie meals when you took them to eat. Now they eat like adults. What a change for me to see.
Girls really do take a long time in the bathroom. I found myself getting worried and even double checking on my neice. I guess it is just that girls do girl things!
Once we were in Branson, we started getting all sorts of questions. Where things were, what we were doing, where were we staying? The lights from afar had them buzzing. Their excitement was exciting for me.
Our arrival at the condo was just as exciting. After we unloaded the car, everyone began exploring. We have a deck that looks out over the lake. There are 2 king beds and a fold out couch. We have a full kitchen, laundry room, living and dining rooms. As my nephew said to me, "it's like a house and better than a hotel."
On inspection, the kids found the giant jetted tub and quickly determined they would both be using it. Hey, I don't care as long as they aren't stinky kids.
They decided they would take alternate nights in the big king bed. As they saw the big bed, they both looked at me and simultaneously said, "we get that whole bed to ourselves?" So funny! Yes, a king bed with 5 pillows all to themselves.
The lady who rents these condos to us is so kind and always takes care of us. She left a tray on the bed with cookies for the kids. They judiciously shared them, but were in aw of the idea that there were cookies on their bed for them. It is so cool to see things through the eyes of a child who has never seen them before.
We made out the couch bed, where I got some time to watch the Disney channel with my neice. How cool is it that she was conent just to have me there watching tv with her?
My nephew made his way to the giant tub. Midway through his bath, I realized I hadn't told him not to pour soap in the jetted tub. As I cracked the door so he could hear me, I heard him playing in the water and singing to himself. Ahh, there was the little kid I remember. I'm happy to report we did not have a bubble overflow either.
At midnight, they were still going but I was exhausted. I crawled into bed feeling about as content as I could have. It brings tears to my eyes to even type that. I don't think there are words to describe just how happy I was.
I had such fear and anxiety with minimal expectations. All that washed away while my expecations were exceeded. I can only credit God with how well things have gone. None of it was in my control and I was certainly given more than I deserve.
Even today as I write this, I can't help but smile and be happy.
We will have a full day today and I can't wait. I am still remembering to just live in the moment right now.
Wednesday, July 18, 2012
'Twas the Night Before...
Well....not Christmas, but it feels like it. Tomorrow, after a long, heart wrenching wait I will finally get to see my niece and nephew.
It actually feels even better than Christmas morning anticipation. It is like bundling 10 years of birthday and Christmas morning anticipation all together.
Sitting here thinking about it is easily brings me to tears. I've spent the last four years thinking a day like tomorrow would never come again. I've spent four years of sobbing my way through each child's birthday and holidays thinking I'd never have an opportunity to spend a day with these kids again.
I know, it's not here yet and there is always a chance it will not happen. I have to be realistic with the the past history of broken promises.
Even though I know they have changed in the past four years and they really don't even look the same. But, I still cannot wait to see them in person and hug them as if no time has passed.
With the exception of a little cleaning and last minute packing, there is nothing left to do but patiently wait for their arrival. I can be a patient person, but in this case I don't think so. I'm ready!
Honestly, it feels so surreal.
I'm worn out and I definitely need to get some rest, but my anxiety is through the roof. Instead of going to bed, I'll toss and turn as my mind and body feels like a pinball bouncing around a machine.
Deep breath. Wipe away the anxious and happy tears. Deep breath. Remember to enjoy the moment. Deep breath. Remember to not dwell on the past. Deep breath. Wipe away tears of overwhelm. Deep breath. Remember to not worry about the future. Deep breath. Smile and soak in each moment. Deep breath. Remember the underlying reason why this is all good. Deep breath. Wipe away more tears of joy. Deep breath. And....I'm ready!
It actually feels even better than Christmas morning anticipation. It is like bundling 10 years of birthday and Christmas morning anticipation all together.
Sitting here thinking about it is easily brings me to tears. I've spent the last four years thinking a day like tomorrow would never come again. I've spent four years of sobbing my way through each child's birthday and holidays thinking I'd never have an opportunity to spend a day with these kids again.
I know, it's not here yet and there is always a chance it will not happen. I have to be realistic with the the past history of broken promises.
Even though I know they have changed in the past four years and they really don't even look the same. But, I still cannot wait to see them in person and hug them as if no time has passed.
With the exception of a little cleaning and last minute packing, there is nothing left to do but patiently wait for their arrival. I can be a patient person, but in this case I don't think so. I'm ready!
Honestly, it feels so surreal.
I'm worn out and I definitely need to get some rest, but my anxiety is through the roof. Instead of going to bed, I'll toss and turn as my mind and body feels like a pinball bouncing around a machine.
Deep breath. Wipe away the anxious and happy tears. Deep breath. Remember to enjoy the moment. Deep breath. Remember to not dwell on the past. Deep breath. Wipe away tears of overwhelm. Deep breath. Remember to not worry about the future. Deep breath. Smile and soak in each moment. Deep breath. Remember the underlying reason why this is all good. Deep breath. Wipe away more tears of joy. Deep breath. And....I'm ready!
A Whole Psalm
There are so many things and emotions and more things I could write about today. A lot of that would just cause me more anxiety, so I'll share something different with you.
I read Psalm 121 today. Not once, but twice. I read an entire Psalm today. That's a huge deal for me.
My bible has a thick layer of dust on in disturbed only by the fingerprints from moving it from place to place. I don't often go to church. Currently, I do no bible study. I have a friend who sends me a verse a day and I do good just to read through it.
So reading an entire Psalm is a big deal!
As I previously shared, I have a friend who is in the midst of her second round with cancer. This trial she is going through has really pushed me out of my comfort zone.
A few years ago, I would have tucked tail and run from anyone going through something like this. I wouldn't want any part of helping them, being a friend to them and certainly not caring for them. I also understand why I wouldn't. Dealing with something where I have absolutely not one ounce of control in is just too hard. Much easier to walk away!
There is something deep inside of me that just won't let me walk away from this one. Not only do I not want to walk away, but I want to jump in the middle and be there with her every step of the way. It is beyond my understanding why I feel so strongly about this.
Each time this friend comes to mind, I find myself having a very real and most of the time difficult conversation with God. I can't tell you the number of times I have found myself for no reason at all talking with God about this friend, this situation.
The past few days, different bible verses have come to mind as I go about my little chat with God. Today it was "My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth." Today was probably the first time I've really been motivated to look up the verse.
I read it once, twice, then the verse after and the one after that.
After reading the entire Psalm, I had this immense feeling of gratitude for my friend and for her trial. It was an overwhelming feeling to understand that my friend's trial was pushing me toward prayer and the bible and most importantly, God.
Not my struggles, not my turmoil, nothing in my life has pushed me toward God as quickly and so deeply as this has. I found so much comfort for my tormented heart in that Psalm this morning. For the first time in a long time, my heart feels more open to the bible.
I read Psalm 121 today. Not once, but twice. I read an entire Psalm today. That's a huge deal for me.
My bible has a thick layer of dust on in disturbed only by the fingerprints from moving it from place to place. I don't often go to church. Currently, I do no bible study. I have a friend who sends me a verse a day and I do good just to read through it.
So reading an entire Psalm is a big deal!
As I previously shared, I have a friend who is in the midst of her second round with cancer. This trial she is going through has really pushed me out of my comfort zone.
A few years ago, I would have tucked tail and run from anyone going through something like this. I wouldn't want any part of helping them, being a friend to them and certainly not caring for them. I also understand why I wouldn't. Dealing with something where I have absolutely not one ounce of control in is just too hard. Much easier to walk away!
There is something deep inside of me that just won't let me walk away from this one. Not only do I not want to walk away, but I want to jump in the middle and be there with her every step of the way. It is beyond my understanding why I feel so strongly about this.
Each time this friend comes to mind, I find myself having a very real and most of the time difficult conversation with God. I can't tell you the number of times I have found myself for no reason at all talking with God about this friend, this situation.
The past few days, different bible verses have come to mind as I go about my little chat with God. Today it was "My help comes from the Lord, maker of heaven and earth." Today was probably the first time I've really been motivated to look up the verse.
I read it once, twice, then the verse after and the one after that.
After reading the entire Psalm, I had this immense feeling of gratitude for my friend and for her trial. It was an overwhelming feeling to understand that my friend's trial was pushing me toward prayer and the bible and most importantly, God.
Not my struggles, not my turmoil, nothing in my life has pushed me toward God as quickly and so deeply as this has. I found so much comfort for my tormented heart in that Psalm this morning. For the first time in a long time, my heart feels more open to the bible.
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
Babies Everywhere Babies
My friends, my friend's children, my family members, ladies from church, ladies from bunco....everywhere I look there are either babies or babies to be.
Good grief, I think we must be in the mother of mating seasons and have been for the past year.
I don't begrudge any of them the joy of pregnancy or their little oogley baby at all. But lately it seems like every week brings another announcement or birth.
Most of the time, I do pretty well with sharing in their excitement. I congratulate them, even get excited for them. I'd be telling a lie to say each time, in my heart, it's like being slapped in the face while getting a punch in the gut.
I'm not overly jealous with all of it, but it does start that self loathing. Why after all I've been through couldn't I have at least been able to have a child? Why did God choose me to be without child? What did I do to cause this?
I know the physical causes, but I don't get the over-arching big life plan reasons. This is one of those things that always ends up in disconnect between my head and heart. I know, but I don't.
This past weekend I received an email from a dear friend. She too had struggled with infertility. She was so kind to tell me ahead of time she was pregnant and they would be announcing soon. It was by far the sweetest way I've ever had a friend handle this delicate subject for me. I so appreciated that.
She was kind of the last person who could truly commiserate with me over infertility. And...it left me feeling kind of, no really, alone in this area again. Not that I wish this dreadful thing on anyone, but it is nice to have someone who understands.
There are so many babies coming soon that it might take a little more than I am humanly capable of to emotionally get through. Ahh...fun times!
Good grief, I think we must be in the mother of mating seasons and have been for the past year.
I don't begrudge any of them the joy of pregnancy or their little oogley baby at all. But lately it seems like every week brings another announcement or birth.
Most of the time, I do pretty well with sharing in their excitement. I congratulate them, even get excited for them. I'd be telling a lie to say each time, in my heart, it's like being slapped in the face while getting a punch in the gut.
I'm not overly jealous with all of it, but it does start that self loathing. Why after all I've been through couldn't I have at least been able to have a child? Why did God choose me to be without child? What did I do to cause this?
I know the physical causes, but I don't get the over-arching big life plan reasons. This is one of those things that always ends up in disconnect between my head and heart. I know, but I don't.
This past weekend I received an email from a dear friend. She too had struggled with infertility. She was so kind to tell me ahead of time she was pregnant and they would be announcing soon. It was by far the sweetest way I've ever had a friend handle this delicate subject for me. I so appreciated that.
She was kind of the last person who could truly commiserate with me over infertility. And...it left me feeling kind of, no really, alone in this area again. Not that I wish this dreadful thing on anyone, but it is nice to have someone who understands.
There are so many babies coming soon that it might take a little more than I am humanly capable of to emotionally get through. Ahh...fun times!
Monday, July 16, 2012
Different Kind of Countdown
Usually I am anxiously counting down to a terrible time. I stress, have anxiety and dread the day which is approaching, for whatever reason.
This is a bit of a different countdown. It has all the stress and anxiety, but all for a day I've waited on for so long now.
I have only three days until my niece and nephew get here for nearly a week. It's super exciting!
It has been a long time since I felt so anxious about anything though. Of course all the reasons I mentioned in a previous post cause me anxiety, but those mostly fall all on me. The things making me most anxious right now are the things I cannot control, the environmental, circumstantial things.
I almost feel as though I am being attacked on every side. I feel like there is some force bigger than I which is creating blows that will keep me from enjoying this time.
Last week was a real witch. I don't even care to go into but I had about 10 days of tough, tough times. It really side tracked me from focusing on the fun times ahead.
This weekend, our air conditioner stopped working correctly. After hundreds of dollars and three technicians, it is fixed. The unexpected financial burden paired with the stress of heat and multiple repairmen made me totally lose focus. I was so wrapped up in that, I forgot that I only have three short days left.
I got stressed over little things, such as the house being clean or paint chipping or the car being vacuumed or the dogs being bathed. So many times I was overwhelmed by things that won't matter to an 11 and 12 year old that I almost forgot to follow through with plans.
There are three days left, well....2 days and 15 hours. I'm sure I will stress about a whole lot more before then. But I hope the minute those two kids walk through the door, all of the stress and anxiety will fade away and I will be able to enjoy every single second of it.
This is a bit of a different countdown. It has all the stress and anxiety, but all for a day I've waited on for so long now.
I have only three days until my niece and nephew get here for nearly a week. It's super exciting!
It has been a long time since I felt so anxious about anything though. Of course all the reasons I mentioned in a previous post cause me anxiety, but those mostly fall all on me. The things making me most anxious right now are the things I cannot control, the environmental, circumstantial things.
I almost feel as though I am being attacked on every side. I feel like there is some force bigger than I which is creating blows that will keep me from enjoying this time.
Last week was a real witch. I don't even care to go into but I had about 10 days of tough, tough times. It really side tracked me from focusing on the fun times ahead.
This weekend, our air conditioner stopped working correctly. After hundreds of dollars and three technicians, it is fixed. The unexpected financial burden paired with the stress of heat and multiple repairmen made me totally lose focus. I was so wrapped up in that, I forgot that I only have three short days left.
I got stressed over little things, such as the house being clean or paint chipping or the car being vacuumed or the dogs being bathed. So many times I was overwhelmed by things that won't matter to an 11 and 12 year old that I almost forgot to follow through with plans.
There are three days left, well....2 days and 15 hours. I'm sure I will stress about a whole lot more before then. But I hope the minute those two kids walk through the door, all of the stress and anxiety will fade away and I will be able to enjoy every single second of it.
Saturday, July 14, 2012
Music Speaks
Not that I need an excuse to take a break from cleaning, but I had to shut the vacuum off and write this while my thoughts are fresh and my emotions are raw.
A couple months ago, I had a conversation with a dear friend which has stuck with me. We were talking about loving one another. Do we really do our best at loving each other the way God loves us? Do we even come close to loving each other the way God wants us to love each other?
My friend shared his personal perspective about how maybe he hadn't been loving his own brother like he should. I can't share his story because it's a very personal one that isn't mine to tell. However, the conviction he shared stuck with me. Not only that, but I've had the opportunity to witness his growth in this area and overtly show a love for his brother.
That conversation has stayed tucked away in my heart and wiggles its way to my head every time I think about my own brothers.
The past few weeks to months have shown me that I have made huge strides in my ability to love people. Unquestionably, I have developed a deep, deep love for a few of my friends. They had only been acquaintances for so long, that I'm not sure when it crossed over into this semi-unfamiliar area. I honestly can't explain it. It's not my nature to have this kind of love for people who really haven't first shown that kind of love for me. But it's there and it's real. I laugh, cry, hurt, rejoice with them without any notion that I am out of place. Even if they don't share that deep compassion for me, it is concrete for me. Completely not my nature!
That is exactly the same kind of love that I should have for my brothers.
I've spent a lot of time recently thinking through what keeps me from loving them like that. I realized that it was anger and hurt. What I didn't realize is that my hurt and anger was completely misplaced.
As I listened to the new song "Forgiveness" by Matthew West, it all came together for me.
I MUST consider who my brothers are. They are abuse survivors. They come from the same, twisted, evil that I did. They have become what they were taught to be. Their actions make sense given the depravity they come from.
WOW!
They both have done awful, mean, hurtful, damaging things to me, which would make a relationship impossible for us. The fact that they both have relationships with my parents is another hurdle and probably the one that will keep a physical distance between us.
After considering our common bond, surviving evil, I don't think I can hold onto any anger I have toward them. The hurt I feel should rightly be placed on my parents, not my brothers.
In West's song, he says "Show me how to love the unlovable. Show me how to reach the unreachable. Show me how to do the impossible."
I think the first thing I've had to do is realize my brothers, just like me, are NOT unlovable. Doing what seemed impossible, forgiving them, really wasn't in my reach. Not until I accepted that they weren't unlovable.
My brothers are lovable. In fact, I believe God had great compassion for them.
It is an act of God, an act far outside of my reach alone, that I can sit here and tell you today that I my heart is full of love for them. There is no anger or hurt toward them left in me. Sure, I'm angry and more hurt than ever over what my parents have done. But all that is left for my brothers is compassion, understanding and love for my brothers.
I may not like what they do and I may feel pain over the loss of relationship, but I love them anyway. I honestly believe they are living the best possible lives they can given their background.
My final thought is that I wonder what life would be like for them if they were believers. What if they knew how to have that deep love for people because they knew God had that kind of love for them?
A couple months ago, I had a conversation with a dear friend which has stuck with me. We were talking about loving one another. Do we really do our best at loving each other the way God loves us? Do we even come close to loving each other the way God wants us to love each other?
My friend shared his personal perspective about how maybe he hadn't been loving his own brother like he should. I can't share his story because it's a very personal one that isn't mine to tell. However, the conviction he shared stuck with me. Not only that, but I've had the opportunity to witness his growth in this area and overtly show a love for his brother.
That conversation has stayed tucked away in my heart and wiggles its way to my head every time I think about my own brothers.
The past few weeks to months have shown me that I have made huge strides in my ability to love people. Unquestionably, I have developed a deep, deep love for a few of my friends. They had only been acquaintances for so long, that I'm not sure when it crossed over into this semi-unfamiliar area. I honestly can't explain it. It's not my nature to have this kind of love for people who really haven't first shown that kind of love for me. But it's there and it's real. I laugh, cry, hurt, rejoice with them without any notion that I am out of place. Even if they don't share that deep compassion for me, it is concrete for me. Completely not my nature!
That is exactly the same kind of love that I should have for my brothers.
I've spent a lot of time recently thinking through what keeps me from loving them like that. I realized that it was anger and hurt. What I didn't realize is that my hurt and anger was completely misplaced.
As I listened to the new song "Forgiveness" by Matthew West, it all came together for me.
I MUST consider who my brothers are. They are abuse survivors. They come from the same, twisted, evil that I did. They have become what they were taught to be. Their actions make sense given the depravity they come from.
WOW!
They both have done awful, mean, hurtful, damaging things to me, which would make a relationship impossible for us. The fact that they both have relationships with my parents is another hurdle and probably the one that will keep a physical distance between us.
After considering our common bond, surviving evil, I don't think I can hold onto any anger I have toward them. The hurt I feel should rightly be placed on my parents, not my brothers.
In West's song, he says "Show me how to love the unlovable. Show me how to reach the unreachable. Show me how to do the impossible."
I think the first thing I've had to do is realize my brothers, just like me, are NOT unlovable. Doing what seemed impossible, forgiving them, really wasn't in my reach. Not until I accepted that they weren't unlovable.
My brothers are lovable. In fact, I believe God had great compassion for them.
It is an act of God, an act far outside of my reach alone, that I can sit here and tell you today that I my heart is full of love for them. There is no anger or hurt toward them left in me. Sure, I'm angry and more hurt than ever over what my parents have done. But all that is left for my brothers is compassion, understanding and love for my brothers.
I may not like what they do and I may feel pain over the loss of relationship, but I love them anyway. I honestly believe they are living the best possible lives they can given their background.
My final thought is that I wonder what life would be like for them if they were believers. What if they knew how to have that deep love for people because they knew God had that kind of love for them?
Thursday, July 12, 2012
Prepping
As I frantically go through the house cleaning and making a list of things that needs done before our impending house guests, I am figuring out that prepping is a lot work.
I have certainly had a full plate with making sure I have enough blankets, pillows, towels, etc. There are things I would love to have done, like tile in the bathroom, that I have resigned myself to accept just isn't going to happen in the next week. I have already made a trip to target for miscellaneous items that I wouldn't have otherwise purchased right now.
There's certainly been a lot of prepping for our impromptu mini-vacation and a variety of activities being planned for the kiddos.
All of those things are just motions. The lists are long, but hard work and time will persevere.
What I hadn't really thought through until the past two days is the emotional prepping that needs done.
After a few anxiety attacks which reduced me to a bawling mess in the fetal position on the floor, I was able to accept that maybe I might be a little fearful of the upcoming family visit.
Don't think for a second that I don't love my niece and nephew. I do. I love them beyond what I could possibly explain to anyone. They don't have to earn my love, they just get it. I have anxiously waited for over four long years to again show them just that. I would sacrifice for them. My heart has been warmed by catching a glimpse of a picture of them. My heart has been broken every birthday and holiday I have missed them.
I equally love my brothers in the same ways, but it's much harder to say.
But I've become overwhelmed with a very real fear of what my place is in their life and how they feel about me.
I am doing my best at holding my expectations of them very loosely. They are 11 and 12 years old. I'm not sure your average 11 or 12 year old is overly loving with anyone. I also know a bit about the environment they come from.
It is very possible that after all this time, we will be like strangers with each other. I know enough about kids to know they change a lot between 8 and 12. Good grief, I've changed so much in the past four years. Will they even remember me? Will they remember what I was like four years ago? Will I have changed so much that they feel I too am a stranger? Or even worse, will I have changed so much that they don't care to be around me?
The truth is that I don't know and that scares me.
Even though I am trying not to focus on it, I am incredibly sad over the time I've lost the past five years. I've lost so much time with them, my other niece and nephew and even my brothers. I know it had to be. In order to sort through the nasty rats nest of my life, I had to be away from my hometown and key family members. I don't regret that, but I do regret the distance it put between the kids and I.
Let's face it, I have made a lot of great changes in my life and have come so far in the past five years. But, what if I'm really not the aunt they know or even want? What if I am in fact not good enough for them any more? What if I really don't have a place in their life any more? What if they are angry or confused about why I don't visit them any more?
How do you explain to a 12 year old that their grandparents screwed their aunt up so bad that she had to go almost 5 years without seeing them?
I don't regret the decision to keep them at all. But I am scared beyond belief.
Not that I've voiced this concern to anyone yet, because I haven't. However, so much of what I have shared with my friends has been met with that common, "don't worry about it, God will work it all out."
How does that apply when one half the equation are not Christian?
I still have a week before they get here. A full week to stew over the emotional ups and downs which are sure to come.
Back to cleaning I go, tears and all....that seems to be the only part of this prepping process that I can control at this point.
I have certainly had a full plate with making sure I have enough blankets, pillows, towels, etc. There are things I would love to have done, like tile in the bathroom, that I have resigned myself to accept just isn't going to happen in the next week. I have already made a trip to target for miscellaneous items that I wouldn't have otherwise purchased right now.
There's certainly been a lot of prepping for our impromptu mini-vacation and a variety of activities being planned for the kiddos.
All of those things are just motions. The lists are long, but hard work and time will persevere.
What I hadn't really thought through until the past two days is the emotional prepping that needs done.
After a few anxiety attacks which reduced me to a bawling mess in the fetal position on the floor, I was able to accept that maybe I might be a little fearful of the upcoming family visit.
Don't think for a second that I don't love my niece and nephew. I do. I love them beyond what I could possibly explain to anyone. They don't have to earn my love, they just get it. I have anxiously waited for over four long years to again show them just that. I would sacrifice for them. My heart has been warmed by catching a glimpse of a picture of them. My heart has been broken every birthday and holiday I have missed them.
I equally love my brothers in the same ways, but it's much harder to say.
But I've become overwhelmed with a very real fear of what my place is in their life and how they feel about me.
I am doing my best at holding my expectations of them very loosely. They are 11 and 12 years old. I'm not sure your average 11 or 12 year old is overly loving with anyone. I also know a bit about the environment they come from.
It is very possible that after all this time, we will be like strangers with each other. I know enough about kids to know they change a lot between 8 and 12. Good grief, I've changed so much in the past four years. Will they even remember me? Will they remember what I was like four years ago? Will I have changed so much that they feel I too am a stranger? Or even worse, will I have changed so much that they don't care to be around me?
The truth is that I don't know and that scares me.
Even though I am trying not to focus on it, I am incredibly sad over the time I've lost the past five years. I've lost so much time with them, my other niece and nephew and even my brothers. I know it had to be. In order to sort through the nasty rats nest of my life, I had to be away from my hometown and key family members. I don't regret that, but I do regret the distance it put between the kids and I.
Let's face it, I have made a lot of great changes in my life and have come so far in the past five years. But, what if I'm really not the aunt they know or even want? What if I am in fact not good enough for them any more? What if I really don't have a place in their life any more? What if they are angry or confused about why I don't visit them any more?
How do you explain to a 12 year old that their grandparents screwed their aunt up so bad that she had to go almost 5 years without seeing them?
I don't regret the decision to keep them at all. But I am scared beyond belief.
Not that I've voiced this concern to anyone yet, because I haven't. However, so much of what I have shared with my friends has been met with that common, "don't worry about it, God will work it all out."
How does that apply when one half the equation are not Christian?
I still have a week before they get here. A full week to stew over the emotional ups and downs which are sure to come.
Back to cleaning I go, tears and all....that seems to be the only part of this prepping process that I can control at this point.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
I write for me...
I noticed today that the readership of my blog has doubled over the past month. Yep, I am one of those who occasionally looks at the stats to see if anyone really reads my dribble. Evidently they do; you do.
At first, I had that split second thought that it was creepy other people were reading what I write. It isn't like when I wrote for the newspapers. Those were articles with facts and given for informational purposes. For me, blogosphere is just an open editorial section for life as I see it. Completely different!
When I write here, I write for me. Whether I use it to express an opinion, emotionally dump overflow or share past experiences, it is almost always written for me. It may come across as a cry for help sometimes and maybe it is, but that's never the intention.
I doubt anyone would come to my blog for encouragement, it's really not that kind of writing. I struggle with some common and a lot of unique problems. I don't hide that or sugar coat it all. I can't imagine anyone reading what I write and feeling uplifted.
There are rarely any comments on my posts. I also don't get much feedback from friends either. That leads me to believe the people reading my blog could possibly be strangers or people I have no relationship with at this time. It's even possible that you reading this are a complete stranger. I'm really ok with all of the above.
Maybe one day you'll leave me a comment to share with me why you read my blog. I'd love to know. Not that it would change what I have to say or have any influence over how honest I am.
I also had that brief thought about the content of my posts. There are some posts that are raw, unedited and even vulgar. Sure, I could go back and edit them. However, I think that would discredit me as being real and honest. And, honestly, those are the posts I need the most. I need those points of desperation to look back on later. I need those reference points to see my own progress.
There are a couple people I know read the blog to stay up-to-date with what I am thinking. I'm ok with that too. Some days my husband is so busy that I barely see him. At least here he can know what's on my mind. I love you honey!
Whatever your reason for being here, I hope you continue to visit. I hope at times you can find something useful here. If you're truly a creeper and shouldn't be here, well then I hope you'll eventually get bored with me. If you dislike me and follow just to find joy in my misery, then you're probably family or just as sick and twisted as they are.
At first, I had that split second thought that it was creepy other people were reading what I write. It isn't like when I wrote for the newspapers. Those were articles with facts and given for informational purposes. For me, blogosphere is just an open editorial section for life as I see it. Completely different!
When I write here, I write for me. Whether I use it to express an opinion, emotionally dump overflow or share past experiences, it is almost always written for me. It may come across as a cry for help sometimes and maybe it is, but that's never the intention.
I doubt anyone would come to my blog for encouragement, it's really not that kind of writing. I struggle with some common and a lot of unique problems. I don't hide that or sugar coat it all. I can't imagine anyone reading what I write and feeling uplifted.
There are rarely any comments on my posts. I also don't get much feedback from friends either. That leads me to believe the people reading my blog could possibly be strangers or people I have no relationship with at this time. It's even possible that you reading this are a complete stranger. I'm really ok with all of the above.
Maybe one day you'll leave me a comment to share with me why you read my blog. I'd love to know. Not that it would change what I have to say or have any influence over how honest I am.
I also had that brief thought about the content of my posts. There are some posts that are raw, unedited and even vulgar. Sure, I could go back and edit them. However, I think that would discredit me as being real and honest. And, honestly, those are the posts I need the most. I need those points of desperation to look back on later. I need those reference points to see my own progress.
There are a couple people I know read the blog to stay up-to-date with what I am thinking. I'm ok with that too. Some days my husband is so busy that I barely see him. At least here he can know what's on my mind. I love you honey!
Whatever your reason for being here, I hope you continue to visit. I hope at times you can find something useful here. If you're truly a creeper and shouldn't be here, well then I hope you'll eventually get bored with me. If you dislike me and follow just to find joy in my misery, then you're probably family or just as sick and twisted as they are.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Overloaded
It could be that I didn't hardly sleep last night or that this week a majority of my support system is unavailable or even that my entire routine is in complete disrupt, but I'm doing everything to maintain dry cheeks.
I am on total emotional overload and have had no real outlets for it this week. Sure, I've had a couple people talk with me. But I haven't had any of those deep, honest, vomit-it-all-up conversations yet. Usually by Monday, I've had at least two of those.
Nobody is around who really knows me well enough to know the signs that I am hiding a swirling nest of emotions inside me. Nobody knows how to push me gently but just firm enough so that I will lay it all out and be able to relax from the internal turmoil for just a little while.
I'm sure I've shared the analogy of the beach ball. When you focus all energy on keeping the ball under water, you will eventually become exhausted and the ball will go flying out of the water. I've exterted about the last bit of energy I have to keep it down and it's about to shoot back up.
Sadly, bad things tend to happen when I can no longer hold the ball down. I've had a couple people ask how this week is going. Sometimes I really believe when they ask, they just want to hear everything is fine and that's what I give them. Other times, I might project that they don't really have time to have a deep conversation or even that they really won't want to hear the truth.
It's times like this when I wish there were more people who were strong enough to sit me down and not let up until I crack. It's not some sadistic need in myself. I just know what I need to survive times like this.
I can't ask or demand or expect that of anyone. And, I think that ties back to my childhood and past experiences.
When I expected my parents to take care of me, they failed. When I asked grandparents and teachers to help me, they failed me. When I begged friends to help me through trials, they failed me. I don't ask because that starts the expectation that the person will reject my request and/or fail me. I've stopped even giving people an opportunity to fail and placed every expectation on failing myself.
Only another entire week before I get back into my normal routine. Another whole week. Seven full days. That's a lot of time for failure and a lot of opportunity for major damage.
I know the Christianized response to my dilema is to "just trust in the Lord" or "when everyone else fails you, the Lord is always there."
My oh so human response to that is this: Yes God is the only one I can fully place all my trust in and who will never fail me. However, He knows me best and knows that he designed me to rely heavily on the tools He provides. He knows my comfort comes most often through music and He knows human conversation and good Christian counsel are essential key ingredients in my daily living. He knows my "right now" depends on others to support and care for me.
Oh boy...only one week to go before I get some normalcy back and I can get rid of this overload.
I am on total emotional overload and have had no real outlets for it this week. Sure, I've had a couple people talk with me. But I haven't had any of those deep, honest, vomit-it-all-up conversations yet. Usually by Monday, I've had at least two of those.
Nobody is around who really knows me well enough to know the signs that I am hiding a swirling nest of emotions inside me. Nobody knows how to push me gently but just firm enough so that I will lay it all out and be able to relax from the internal turmoil for just a little while.
I'm sure I've shared the analogy of the beach ball. When you focus all energy on keeping the ball under water, you will eventually become exhausted and the ball will go flying out of the water. I've exterted about the last bit of energy I have to keep it down and it's about to shoot back up.
Sadly, bad things tend to happen when I can no longer hold the ball down. I've had a couple people ask how this week is going. Sometimes I really believe when they ask, they just want to hear everything is fine and that's what I give them. Other times, I might project that they don't really have time to have a deep conversation or even that they really won't want to hear the truth.
It's times like this when I wish there were more people who were strong enough to sit me down and not let up until I crack. It's not some sadistic need in myself. I just know what I need to survive times like this.
I can't ask or demand or expect that of anyone. And, I think that ties back to my childhood and past experiences.
When I expected my parents to take care of me, they failed. When I asked grandparents and teachers to help me, they failed me. When I begged friends to help me through trials, they failed me. I don't ask because that starts the expectation that the person will reject my request and/or fail me. I've stopped even giving people an opportunity to fail and placed every expectation on failing myself.
Only another entire week before I get back into my normal routine. Another whole week. Seven full days. That's a lot of time for failure and a lot of opportunity for major damage.
I know the Christianized response to my dilema is to "just trust in the Lord" or "when everyone else fails you, the Lord is always there."
My oh so human response to that is this: Yes God is the only one I can fully place all my trust in and who will never fail me. However, He knows me best and knows that he designed me to rely heavily on the tools He provides. He knows my comfort comes most often through music and He knows human conversation and good Christian counsel are essential key ingredients in my daily living. He knows my "right now" depends on others to support and care for me.
Oh boy...only one week to go before I get some normalcy back and I can get rid of this overload.
"Oceans Raging Wild..."
I am sitting here after having been to bed and gotten back up again. Comfort eludes me tonight, emotionally, spiritually and physically.
My mind and body are being tossed about in this violent swirling world full of uncertainty and questions.
In addition to my mother-in-law, I have several people around me wading through major health problems. Their stories aren't mine to tell and I probably couldn't do justice to what they are living through right now. I can only tell you what it's like to be on the sidelines.
I would also like to add that I am in no way minimizing what they are going through. I know how I feel and see their trial is of no comparison to what it must be like to be walking in their shoes right now.
Slowly, I am learning that prayer is just a fancy name for the conversation between me and God. To dumb it down even further, it's really just me talking to someone I can't see, hear, feel or touch. And honestly, lately, it feels exactly like me just talking to myself.
As my mother-in-law began the process of getting her dementia diagnosis and as my friends went through testing for cancer, I prayed and prayed and prayed for an outcome that would be the best possible for them. I prayed for no dementia, no cancer. In every case, my prayers (and those of many others) would not be answered. It definitely feels like I've been talking to myself a lot lately.
It has taken a small army of people working diligently to undo the damage my dad did in convincing that there was no God and if there was, then bad things would not happen. Even with the troops at hand, I feel like I barely hang onto what is true. I know what the bible says, but my heart just doesn't have a concrete belief that God is good all the time.
Even in my own life, I don't understand.
I know the Christian response is usually and probably should be accepting that each and every trial is no surprise to God. We should blindly and confidently accept that God will use each trial for His glory. We should live completely as if we never doubt that God never leaves us and will be our strength when the trial is too big for our minds to consume and too exhausting for our bodies to withstand.
Honestly, I've tried and I can't do any of that right now. I'm angry. I'm fist-shaking, foot-stomping angry. I'm shaking-my-head, hands-on-the-hips, toe-tapping angry that nothing seems fair when bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. The only confidence I have right now is that God knows I'm angry.
Each angry tear I cry is filled with fear. That's the driving force of the anger which has me so on edge tonight. I am so afraid of the unknown, it's what has me so restless.
For my mother-in-law, my friends and even myself, I'm afraid of what lays ahead. I don't know if there will be healing. I don't know if there will be a cure. I don't know if there will be a miracle. I don't know if there will be long, healthy lives ahead. I just don't know and that scares me.
What I want for everyone, even me, is to be whole, healthy and happy. Put back together and better than before. I'm scared that won't be the answer for everyone of them or me.
I'm scared that my doubt, my real struggle to find comfort in what I know is true will somehow disqualify me as a Christian. I'm not challenging God, but I question whether or not He loves me and listens to me.
The last time we left my mother-in-law, "I Will Lift My Eyes," by Bebo Norman was playing on the radio. It couldn't have played at a more perfect time.
Psalm 123:1 says, I will lift my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven. Psalm 6:9 says, the Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer.
I am trying my hardest to hold it all close right now. I may fail, but I will fail doing my best.
My mind and body are being tossed about in this violent swirling world full of uncertainty and questions.
In addition to my mother-in-law, I have several people around me wading through major health problems. Their stories aren't mine to tell and I probably couldn't do justice to what they are living through right now. I can only tell you what it's like to be on the sidelines.
I would also like to add that I am in no way minimizing what they are going through. I know how I feel and see their trial is of no comparison to what it must be like to be walking in their shoes right now.
Slowly, I am learning that prayer is just a fancy name for the conversation between me and God. To dumb it down even further, it's really just me talking to someone I can't see, hear, feel or touch. And honestly, lately, it feels exactly like me just talking to myself.
As my mother-in-law began the process of getting her dementia diagnosis and as my friends went through testing for cancer, I prayed and prayed and prayed for an outcome that would be the best possible for them. I prayed for no dementia, no cancer. In every case, my prayers (and those of many others) would not be answered. It definitely feels like I've been talking to myself a lot lately.
It has taken a small army of people working diligently to undo the damage my dad did in convincing that there was no God and if there was, then bad things would not happen. Even with the troops at hand, I feel like I barely hang onto what is true. I know what the bible says, but my heart just doesn't have a concrete belief that God is good all the time.
Even in my own life, I don't understand.
I know the Christian response is usually and probably should be accepting that each and every trial is no surprise to God. We should blindly and confidently accept that God will use each trial for His glory. We should live completely as if we never doubt that God never leaves us and will be our strength when the trial is too big for our minds to consume and too exhausting for our bodies to withstand.
Honestly, I've tried and I can't do any of that right now. I'm angry. I'm fist-shaking, foot-stomping angry. I'm shaking-my-head, hands-on-the-hips, toe-tapping angry that nothing seems fair when bad things happen to good people and good things happen to bad people. The only confidence I have right now is that God knows I'm angry.
Each angry tear I cry is filled with fear. That's the driving force of the anger which has me so on edge tonight. I am so afraid of the unknown, it's what has me so restless.
For my mother-in-law, my friends and even myself, I'm afraid of what lays ahead. I don't know if there will be healing. I don't know if there will be a cure. I don't know if there will be a miracle. I don't know if there will be long, healthy lives ahead. I just don't know and that scares me.
What I want for everyone, even me, is to be whole, healthy and happy. Put back together and better than before. I'm scared that won't be the answer for everyone of them or me.
I'm scared that my doubt, my real struggle to find comfort in what I know is true will somehow disqualify me as a Christian. I'm not challenging God, but I question whether or not He loves me and listens to me.
The last time we left my mother-in-law, "I Will Lift My Eyes," by Bebo Norman was playing on the radio. It couldn't have played at a more perfect time.
Psalm 123:1 says, I will lift my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven. Psalm 6:9 says, the Lord has heard my cry for mercy; the Lord accepts my prayer.
I am trying my hardest to hold it all close right now. I may fail, but I will fail doing my best.
Saturday, July 7, 2012
Aunt Do
Searching my entire life, I doubt I could find anything so equally joyous and heart wrenching as being an aunt.
My first nephew was born in the fall of 1999. I had been married just 15 months and was already struggling with infertility. My marriage was a disaster and I was on the brink of destroying my life with a strong desire to turn to drugs.
At the time, my tiny sister-in-law-to-be was two weeks past her due date with a baby boy who was to be only 6 lbs. Early on the morning of Thanksgiving, she was finally in labor. She tried and tried to deliver the baby. Standing in the hall at the hospital, I could see her in pain and trying all different positions. After hours, the baby was on his way out. He would get stuck in the birth canal, causing his heart rate to drop dangerously low. The doctor would have no choice but to pull him out using forceps.
It was quite a roller coaster of emotion as we waited to hear that first cry. A good cry and an hour later, I'd find myself standing in the nursery holding my firstborn nephew. He was a whopping 9.2 lbs and had just a hint of a bruise above his eye from the forceps.
At that moment, I decided the most important thing in my life was being the best example of a human I could be to this baby and that I never wanted to be far away from him. It was life altering and one of the major reasons I stayed put in my marriage.
My nephew spent the first week of his life in the NICU of CMH because of swelling in his head. That wouldn't be his first trip by ambulance to the hospital either. He made several more during his first few years of life. He started life with an allergy to food dyes that would cause him to stop breathe and seize. Thankfully, he grew out of that.
In March 2000, September 2000 and October 2005, my brothers would make me a happy aunt again. A few of them could never pronounce my first name and even my middle name. So, I would become known to them all at one time or another as "Aunt Do." A name I gladly accepted and a title I wore proudly.
I could tell you hundreds of stories that would all end in my sincere gratitude for being able to be an aunt. I took my nephew to his first movie, Finding Nemo. I traveled several places with the three oldest ones. My niece liked to throw herself on the ground, kicking and screaming. I babysat multiple times. When asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, my nephew said, "I want to be a dad and live in KC." I have spent countless hours at Chuckie Cheeses with all of them. Good and bad, it's all been wonderful.
But it's been incredibly painful too.
Living 2 hours away from them has been difficult. The older of my brothers divorced when his son was very young. It became difficult to see his children when he barely had them once or twice a month. My oldest niece is in fact, not my brother's biological child. The divorce made that a point of contention for some of my family. Sadly, I know the biological father. He has inquired about paternity many times and been lied too. I have a difficult time accepting the decision to keep her from her biological father, who I am certain would love her. (Long story short, the biological father is a distant relative of my husband's and therefore shares his bloodline.)
When it became apparent that for my own well-being I needed to sever ties with my parents, it became a package deal. They lived in the same town and I couldn't get near my nieces and nephews without running into my parents. That was in 2007.
It has been a very long, extremely difficult five years. I was able to have one niece and nephew stay with me during Thanksgiving of 2007. In 2009, I saw all four of them at an event in their hometown. It was a brief visit and two of them did not know who I was. In early 2011, I met up with my sister-in-law, one niece and one nephew for lunch. That has been all of the contact I've had with them in five years.
Every birthday. Every holiday. First day of school. Snow days. In conversations. When I look at pictures. It's all so painful. I don't think I've ever missed anyone like I miss them. It is a hurt that digs deep into who I am and what motivates me.
I hope someday I will be able to explain to them why I was absent from their lives and I desperately pray that they will understand. I hope they will know I never stopped thinking about them or caring about them.
In 12 days (yes, there is a mental countdown), I will get two of them for 6 days. I feared this would never happen, at least not before they were grown adults anyway. I have days and days full of things to do. I know that in their pre-teen personalities, they will want to go and do and have fun. And fun is what we shall have!
There is nothing I would love more than to go back in time to that point where they were little and just wanted to cuddle with Aunt Do. But since I can't, I have only one wish, one desire for the entire time they are with me. I hope that I can savor every moment while being that person I knew I wanted to that first time I looked at my nephew's big blue eyes.
I want to be that person who loves them unconditionally. I want to show them respect for people, places and things. I want to be that role model of a person, a wife, an aunt. And the biggest thing, the one thing that never crossed my mind in 1999, I want them to see Jesus in my life.
My first nephew was born in the fall of 1999. I had been married just 15 months and was already struggling with infertility. My marriage was a disaster and I was on the brink of destroying my life with a strong desire to turn to drugs.
At the time, my tiny sister-in-law-to-be was two weeks past her due date with a baby boy who was to be only 6 lbs. Early on the morning of Thanksgiving, she was finally in labor. She tried and tried to deliver the baby. Standing in the hall at the hospital, I could see her in pain and trying all different positions. After hours, the baby was on his way out. He would get stuck in the birth canal, causing his heart rate to drop dangerously low. The doctor would have no choice but to pull him out using forceps.
It was quite a roller coaster of emotion as we waited to hear that first cry. A good cry and an hour later, I'd find myself standing in the nursery holding my firstborn nephew. He was a whopping 9.2 lbs and had just a hint of a bruise above his eye from the forceps.
At that moment, I decided the most important thing in my life was being the best example of a human I could be to this baby and that I never wanted to be far away from him. It was life altering and one of the major reasons I stayed put in my marriage.
My nephew spent the first week of his life in the NICU of CMH because of swelling in his head. That wouldn't be his first trip by ambulance to the hospital either. He made several more during his first few years of life. He started life with an allergy to food dyes that would cause him to stop breathe and seize. Thankfully, he grew out of that.
In March 2000, September 2000 and October 2005, my brothers would make me a happy aunt again. A few of them could never pronounce my first name and even my middle name. So, I would become known to them all at one time or another as "Aunt Do." A name I gladly accepted and a title I wore proudly.
I could tell you hundreds of stories that would all end in my sincere gratitude for being able to be an aunt. I took my nephew to his first movie, Finding Nemo. I traveled several places with the three oldest ones. My niece liked to throw herself on the ground, kicking and screaming. I babysat multiple times. When asked what he wanted to be when he grew up, my nephew said, "I want to be a dad and live in KC." I have spent countless hours at Chuckie Cheeses with all of them. Good and bad, it's all been wonderful.
But it's been incredibly painful too.
Living 2 hours away from them has been difficult. The older of my brothers divorced when his son was very young. It became difficult to see his children when he barely had them once or twice a month. My oldest niece is in fact, not my brother's biological child. The divorce made that a point of contention for some of my family. Sadly, I know the biological father. He has inquired about paternity many times and been lied too. I have a difficult time accepting the decision to keep her from her biological father, who I am certain would love her. (Long story short, the biological father is a distant relative of my husband's and therefore shares his bloodline.)
When it became apparent that for my own well-being I needed to sever ties with my parents, it became a package deal. They lived in the same town and I couldn't get near my nieces and nephews without running into my parents. That was in 2007.
It has been a very long, extremely difficult five years. I was able to have one niece and nephew stay with me during Thanksgiving of 2007. In 2009, I saw all four of them at an event in their hometown. It was a brief visit and two of them did not know who I was. In early 2011, I met up with my sister-in-law, one niece and one nephew for lunch. That has been all of the contact I've had with them in five years.
Every birthday. Every holiday. First day of school. Snow days. In conversations. When I look at pictures. It's all so painful. I don't think I've ever missed anyone like I miss them. It is a hurt that digs deep into who I am and what motivates me.
I hope someday I will be able to explain to them why I was absent from their lives and I desperately pray that they will understand. I hope they will know I never stopped thinking about them or caring about them.
In 12 days (yes, there is a mental countdown), I will get two of them for 6 days. I feared this would never happen, at least not before they were grown adults anyway. I have days and days full of things to do. I know that in their pre-teen personalities, they will want to go and do and have fun. And fun is what we shall have!
There is nothing I would love more than to go back in time to that point where they were little and just wanted to cuddle with Aunt Do. But since I can't, I have only one wish, one desire for the entire time they are with me. I hope that I can savor every moment while being that person I knew I wanted to that first time I looked at my nephew's big blue eyes.
I want to be that person who loves them unconditionally. I want to show them respect for people, places and things. I want to be that role model of a person, a wife, an aunt. And the biggest thing, the one thing that never crossed my mind in 1999, I want them to see Jesus in my life.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Freedom
Have you ever wanted something so bad, but when you got it you realized maybe it wasn't as great as you had thought?
For almost three years, my constant thought has been that my life would be so much better if I were able to do just two things: drive and spend as much time alone as I wanted.
I've had those things now for the greater part of a month. And ya know, it really isn't as great as I remember.
There are so many things in my life that have improved over the past few years. I think having so much freedom tends to accentuate the things that haven't improved much.
You would have to know more of my background to understand that I can go hours at a time without any idea where I am or what I am doing and then have no memory of it later. This usually happens when I am tired, bored or upset.
I thought when I got to drive again that I would stay incredibly busy. I mean goodness, it seemed like I always had things to do and nobody to take me to do them. What really happens is that I spend most of my time at home, doing nothing. I really don't drive that much.
In fact, I'm not sure I even really like driving. It seems to kick up some massive anxiety in me. Every other car on the road is a potential person to cause an accident.
I also didn't realize how much I had enjoyed having the company of someone to go most places with me. It is a little lonely going everywhere alone.
Which leads me to why the other half of what I wanted hasn't been that great.
Being home by myself all day, everyday....well...it's a whole bunch lonely.
My husband works so many hours, that I typically only get 2-3 hours of human interaction per day. Sad, huh?
I think it's more than just loneliness for me. I went from someone knowing where I was at all times and having someone nearby to having nothing.
From 6:30 am until 3:30 pm or much later, nobody really knows where I am at or what I am doing. That feels like someone kicked my legs out from under me. Without going into in a public forum, I can assure you that there are a long list of things that could, have or will go wrong during times when nobody has accounted for me. That's a scary thought!
I'm sure in a few weeks when I can't drive again (which I know will happen), I wonder if I will remember just how miserable I am now. I wonder if I will be able to think back just a few weeks to this time when I've just about decided that all I wanted wasn't really what I wanted at all.
For almost three years, my constant thought has been that my life would be so much better if I were able to do just two things: drive and spend as much time alone as I wanted.
I've had those things now for the greater part of a month. And ya know, it really isn't as great as I remember.
There are so many things in my life that have improved over the past few years. I think having so much freedom tends to accentuate the things that haven't improved much.
You would have to know more of my background to understand that I can go hours at a time without any idea where I am or what I am doing and then have no memory of it later. This usually happens when I am tired, bored or upset.
I thought when I got to drive again that I would stay incredibly busy. I mean goodness, it seemed like I always had things to do and nobody to take me to do them. What really happens is that I spend most of my time at home, doing nothing. I really don't drive that much.
In fact, I'm not sure I even really like driving. It seems to kick up some massive anxiety in me. Every other car on the road is a potential person to cause an accident.
I also didn't realize how much I had enjoyed having the company of someone to go most places with me. It is a little lonely going everywhere alone.
Which leads me to why the other half of what I wanted hasn't been that great.
Being home by myself all day, everyday....well...it's a whole bunch lonely.
My husband works so many hours, that I typically only get 2-3 hours of human interaction per day. Sad, huh?
I think it's more than just loneliness for me. I went from someone knowing where I was at all times and having someone nearby to having nothing.
From 6:30 am until 3:30 pm or much later, nobody really knows where I am at or what I am doing. That feels like someone kicked my legs out from under me. Without going into in a public forum, I can assure you that there are a long list of things that could, have or will go wrong during times when nobody has accounted for me. That's a scary thought!
I'm sure in a few weeks when I can't drive again (which I know will happen), I wonder if I will remember just how miserable I am now. I wonder if I will be able to think back just a few weeks to this time when I've just about decided that all I wanted wasn't really what I wanted at all.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Hot Summer Days
Maybe it is because I live a relatively clean life, I often forget the filth that filled my childhood. It's hard to predict just how obscure things can reduce me to intermittent ptsd trances where I the past feels so very real.
Not that anyone particularly likes them, but I hate maggots. Let me be oh so clear on that...I HATE them.
Last week, my dog carried in a dead bird. Weeks of excessive heat, plus a dead bird, you see where this is going. Luckily, my husband took care of the bird before I had an opportunity to be completely freaked out. The next day, we saw trails of the nasty little boogers crawling in a parking lot and on a trash can.
That has been followed by almost a week of constant nightmares. Whether I sleep 1 hour or 6 hours, I wake up in a sweaty mess after dreaming of being eaten alive by them. I've also had flashbacks of childhood every day since.
You might not think something as silly as a maggot would illicit a response any stronger than just common disgust. I guess that comes directly from the way I grew up.
I grew up in absolute filth. We always had roaches, which my dad blamed on the wood he stored in the basement for the wood burning stove. We always had ants or spiders or other random bugs that he was convinced wouldn't be there without the wood. We had mice. I don't mean just a couple field mice in the fall either. We had entire families of huge mice and all over in the house. Of course my dad blamed those on having children. Silly enough, I believed him for so long. I believed that if you had kids, they brought mice.
The truth was we had all these things because we lived a dirty life. My mom nor dad ever picked up after themselves, thereby not teaching their children to be clean. All house cleaning fell on me starting at a very young age, 6 or 7 at the latest. I hadn't been taught, but just expected to know how to clean.
As a kid, I didn't really know there was much more than doing dishes, vacuuming, doing laundry, and taking trash out. Oh boy, there's so much more to keeping a house clean. It doesn't sound like much, but keep in mind I was a KID. My days were largely filled already with going to school and doing homework. Oh yea and trying to do as much as I could to avoid the inevitable abuse that would be waiting for me every night.
I still do not understand why my parents didn't give my brothers any responsibility. They weren't that much younger than me.
My parents didn't have a real air conditioner. We had a little window unit that my dad didn't allow us to run during the day. When the summer days got really hot, the unit was moved to their bedroom only. My mom covered all the windows with foil and we weren't allowed to open them. You can probably imagine just how hot our house got.
That was a bad combination with our trash. In our kitchen, we had a full size rolling cart size trash can. Living in a small town in the 1980s, we were only charged when we had trash to pick up. The trash can held a lot before it was ready to be taken outside. After it was full, I still had a hard time with it because of the weight. Needless-to-say, the trash sat for a long time before it got taken outside.
You can see where this is going, right? Hot house, lots and lots of trash in a filthy house...
I spent lots of time as a kid trying to clean up rivers of maggots crawling in our kitchen. We had a carpeted floor in our kitchen, making it impossible to smash them. Not a lot of things are safe to spray on carpet that will kill them either.
It was usually a process of scooping them up with a shovel, carrying them to the driveway and smashing them. This was my reality for week after week every summer of my childhood. If my dad found out we had maggots in the kithcen, I always got beat for it too.
That would probably be enough to cause anyone an adverse reaction to them for years and years. However, that just wasn't the worst of it.
After spending sometimes hours cleaning up, I would have my own mess to clean. There were so many, I couldn't keep them from crawling on my feet. I would have to sit down on the floor and pick the ones out that had burrowed into my feet.
I remember so many times that my dad would stand and laugh at me. He would tell me that if I missed any of them, they would crawl through my body, into my brain and kill me.
The flashbacks now are awful and I wish there was a way to stop them. I do my best just to avoid things like this so I don't have to deal with the flashbacks. It makes me so thankful that I no longer live in filth and that my husband would never allow that for us.
Not that anyone particularly likes them, but I hate maggots. Let me be oh so clear on that...I HATE them.
Last week, my dog carried in a dead bird. Weeks of excessive heat, plus a dead bird, you see where this is going. Luckily, my husband took care of the bird before I had an opportunity to be completely freaked out. The next day, we saw trails of the nasty little boogers crawling in a parking lot and on a trash can.
That has been followed by almost a week of constant nightmares. Whether I sleep 1 hour or 6 hours, I wake up in a sweaty mess after dreaming of being eaten alive by them. I've also had flashbacks of childhood every day since.
You might not think something as silly as a maggot would illicit a response any stronger than just common disgust. I guess that comes directly from the way I grew up.
I grew up in absolute filth. We always had roaches, which my dad blamed on the wood he stored in the basement for the wood burning stove. We always had ants or spiders or other random bugs that he was convinced wouldn't be there without the wood. We had mice. I don't mean just a couple field mice in the fall either. We had entire families of huge mice and all over in the house. Of course my dad blamed those on having children. Silly enough, I believed him for so long. I believed that if you had kids, they brought mice.
The truth was we had all these things because we lived a dirty life. My mom nor dad ever picked up after themselves, thereby not teaching their children to be clean. All house cleaning fell on me starting at a very young age, 6 or 7 at the latest. I hadn't been taught, but just expected to know how to clean.
As a kid, I didn't really know there was much more than doing dishes, vacuuming, doing laundry, and taking trash out. Oh boy, there's so much more to keeping a house clean. It doesn't sound like much, but keep in mind I was a KID. My days were largely filled already with going to school and doing homework. Oh yea and trying to do as much as I could to avoid the inevitable abuse that would be waiting for me every night.
I still do not understand why my parents didn't give my brothers any responsibility. They weren't that much younger than me.
My parents didn't have a real air conditioner. We had a little window unit that my dad didn't allow us to run during the day. When the summer days got really hot, the unit was moved to their bedroom only. My mom covered all the windows with foil and we weren't allowed to open them. You can probably imagine just how hot our house got.
That was a bad combination with our trash. In our kitchen, we had a full size rolling cart size trash can. Living in a small town in the 1980s, we were only charged when we had trash to pick up. The trash can held a lot before it was ready to be taken outside. After it was full, I still had a hard time with it because of the weight. Needless-to-say, the trash sat for a long time before it got taken outside.
You can see where this is going, right? Hot house, lots and lots of trash in a filthy house...
I spent lots of time as a kid trying to clean up rivers of maggots crawling in our kitchen. We had a carpeted floor in our kitchen, making it impossible to smash them. Not a lot of things are safe to spray on carpet that will kill them either.
It was usually a process of scooping them up with a shovel, carrying them to the driveway and smashing them. This was my reality for week after week every summer of my childhood. If my dad found out we had maggots in the kithcen, I always got beat for it too.
That would probably be enough to cause anyone an adverse reaction to them for years and years. However, that just wasn't the worst of it.
After spending sometimes hours cleaning up, I would have my own mess to clean. There were so many, I couldn't keep them from crawling on my feet. I would have to sit down on the floor and pick the ones out that had burrowed into my feet.
I remember so many times that my dad would stand and laugh at me. He would tell me that if I missed any of them, they would crawl through my body, into my brain and kill me.
The flashbacks now are awful and I wish there was a way to stop them. I do my best just to avoid things like this so I don't have to deal with the flashbacks. It makes me so thankful that I no longer live in filth and that my husband would never allow that for us.
Thursday, June 21, 2012
Don't Forget the Journey
Since I'm a person with lots of issues, I'm also a person who gets multitudes of advice.
I won't say all the advice I've gotten is bad. Some of it has been really good. Some of it has been really, terribly bad. I will say that the majority of it has come at the wrong time in my life. And, most of that has come from someone who doesn't grasp what my life is truly like.
When offering advice or your opinion about what someone should or shouldn't be doing, there is so much to consider.
Past Experience: Everyone has their own past experiences. Without question, everyone can pinpoint some dysfunction from their past, but there are definitely varying degrees of dysfunction. Even if the level of dysfunction or circumstance seems to be parallel to your life, there is still much to consider. The method of survival, personality bent, current experiences, how open they are, length of experience, and so much more are all relevant factors to consider when you believe you understand the person.
Some questions to ask yourself about past experience before you consider offering advice:
Has this person truly trusted me with the entire scope of their past?
Do I fully understand who they are and how they have gotten to this point in their life?
Am I completely aware of what their circumstances are right now?
Emotional Stability: Depending on where the person is at in their journey, they may have times of emotional instability. When you go through counseling, therapy, down times, etc., there can be a varied swing of emotions. I speak from experience, each day of the week can be labeled with a different emotion. Someone just beginning this journey may often find themselves having more bad days than good. Even when the balance begins to shift and there are more good than bad, it is still a very delicate balance.
Some questions to ask yourself about emotional stability before you consider offering advice:
Do you have enough contact with this person to know what their emotional state is right now?
Will the advice you are about to offer risk interrupting that delicate emotional balance?
Is the advice something that would be better given during a time of more stability?
If it is difficult and cannot wait, does the person have proper support if the advice rocks their stability?
Spiritual Maturity: This is a tricky one. There are Christians who have been so since they were children, yet mature slowly. There are Christians who accept Christ as an adult and mature very quickly. It's not much different than the ages and maturity levels in a Freshman class. Everyone is different. When someone has emotional instability or severe past experiences, spiritual maturity can be easily effected and hampered. It seems so easy for Christians, especially seasoned or mature one, to expect spiritual maturity to come with number of years and disregard all other factors. That is a vital error. Another error is to expect someone to mature at the same rate which you have matured. Some people are going to be slower and some faster.
Some questions to ask yourself about spiritual maturity before you consider offering advice:
How spiritually mature were you before you believed, learned or experienced this truth?
Do you honestly know the level of spiritual maturity of this person?
Is this an opinion or advice which could cause this person to stumble or feel inferior because they are not spiritually as mature as you?
Will this advice be pertinent to the spiritual growth of this person?
If the advice is necessary and there is a lack of maturity, what will you do to aid in spiritual growth?
There are so many areas I could cover, but these are the ones on my heart right now.
If I could offer just one piece of advice for anyone wanting to offer advice, it would be this:
Before you give any advice to anyone, take a moment to consider not how much it changed your life but how long it took you in your own journey to learn that lesson. Don't ever forget your own journey; how hard, how long, how difficult it was for you to take advice from others.
I won't say all the advice I've gotten is bad. Some of it has been really good. Some of it has been really, terribly bad. I will say that the majority of it has come at the wrong time in my life. And, most of that has come from someone who doesn't grasp what my life is truly like.
When offering advice or your opinion about what someone should or shouldn't be doing, there is so much to consider.
Past Experience: Everyone has their own past experiences. Without question, everyone can pinpoint some dysfunction from their past, but there are definitely varying degrees of dysfunction. Even if the level of dysfunction or circumstance seems to be parallel to your life, there is still much to consider. The method of survival, personality bent, current experiences, how open they are, length of experience, and so much more are all relevant factors to consider when you believe you understand the person.
Some questions to ask yourself about past experience before you consider offering advice:
Has this person truly trusted me with the entire scope of their past?
Do I fully understand who they are and how they have gotten to this point in their life?
Am I completely aware of what their circumstances are right now?
Emotional Stability: Depending on where the person is at in their journey, they may have times of emotional instability. When you go through counseling, therapy, down times, etc., there can be a varied swing of emotions. I speak from experience, each day of the week can be labeled with a different emotion. Someone just beginning this journey may often find themselves having more bad days than good. Even when the balance begins to shift and there are more good than bad, it is still a very delicate balance.
Some questions to ask yourself about emotional stability before you consider offering advice:
Do you have enough contact with this person to know what their emotional state is right now?
Will the advice you are about to offer risk interrupting that delicate emotional balance?
Is the advice something that would be better given during a time of more stability?
If it is difficult and cannot wait, does the person have proper support if the advice rocks their stability?
Spiritual Maturity: This is a tricky one. There are Christians who have been so since they were children, yet mature slowly. There are Christians who accept Christ as an adult and mature very quickly. It's not much different than the ages and maturity levels in a Freshman class. Everyone is different. When someone has emotional instability or severe past experiences, spiritual maturity can be easily effected and hampered. It seems so easy for Christians, especially seasoned or mature one, to expect spiritual maturity to come with number of years and disregard all other factors. That is a vital error. Another error is to expect someone to mature at the same rate which you have matured. Some people are going to be slower and some faster.
Some questions to ask yourself about spiritual maturity before you consider offering advice:
How spiritually mature were you before you believed, learned or experienced this truth?
Do you honestly know the level of spiritual maturity of this person?
Is this an opinion or advice which could cause this person to stumble or feel inferior because they are not spiritually as mature as you?
Will this advice be pertinent to the spiritual growth of this person?
If the advice is necessary and there is a lack of maturity, what will you do to aid in spiritual growth?
There are so many areas I could cover, but these are the ones on my heart right now.
If I could offer just one piece of advice for anyone wanting to offer advice, it would be this:
Before you give any advice to anyone, take a moment to consider not how much it changed your life but how long it took you in your own journey to learn that lesson. Don't ever forget your own journey; how hard, how long, how difficult it was for you to take advice from others.
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