Last night and today, I had the privilege of joining in the celebration of an 82nd birthday. The husband in the couple from church that I spend time with turned 82 today. 82...all I can say is wow.
I have to pause at times and remind myself that it is indeed sad that my grandparents and parents have/are/will reach milestone birthdays and they have robbed me of the joy of being able to celebrate them. At the same time, I'm reminded of just how thankful I am that I do get to celebrate these wonderful people as they reach milestones.
While sitting around the table during a birthday dinner for him, I found myself completely observing and once again reconfiguring my idea of a healthy family. There was laughter, discussion, respect, and most of all love. It wasn't loud. There was no fighting. No drinking or swearing. Everyone conversed in a normal way. It was pleasant.
Healthy families who love each other can genuinely celebrate each other during special occasions in ways that are pleasant, welcoming and loving. That's such a new concept to me. As many social settings as I've experienced over the past few years, I'd not had one like this. Another step in reshaping my idea of what normal family gatherings look like.
Today, my husband and I visited the couple again to help with a few specific projects. I spent most of the time in the kitchen, which was absolutely fine. I was making fresh fruit and veggie juices for them. We are always trying to come up with creative ways to supplement their dietary/vitamin needs.
I could hear the two guys watching football and chatting during commercials. At one point, I peaked into the living room to see the two of them laughing while drinking some fresh apple juice. I have to admit, it made me smile. There set two guys that I care so much for and I loved seeing them sitting next to each other, chatting and laughing.
I had a moment standing right there. It was one of those warm, fuzzy, everything-is-right-with-the-world feelings. It was a rare moment for me when I truly knew how blessed I am by this relationship and by my husband. Blessed beyond what I deserve.
We'll be leaving on vacation soon and I have to say, I'm going to miss them while we are gone. For maybe the first time ever, I know there are two people who I will be excited to return home to. There's actually someone who cares about me and will want to know all about our trip. That seems so trivial to say it aloud, but it's a big deal for me. For the first time ever, I'll be thinking about home with fondness even while I enjoy our trip.
Blessed!!!!
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Saturday, January 5, 2013
Tossed Dog
Yesterday my niece posted a video on facebook. I've often thought she was far too young to be on facebook, even though it is a way for me to stay in touch with her.
The video she posted was a little disturbing and for several reasons. It was taken upside down with a ceiling fan spinning, which made it difficult to watch. The content consisted of her friend tossing their small dog to her and her dropping the dog.
I'm not sure why she thought she should post a video of her being rough with a small dog online, but she did. The girls were laughing and I'm sure the dog wasn't injured. However, he could have been.
What in the world goes through her head to do something like that? Even if she'd caught the dog, what was the point?
She doesn't have the best track record with being kind to animals. When she was much younger, kittens and a variety of reptiles were often in peril if left within her reach. It took her a long time learn how to gently handle pets, if she ever did. By the looks of the video, I still don't think she has learned to respect them as living creatures.
The other thing that was disturbing was that it's really unknown the punishment she received for that. I live with that very real fear that my brother disciplines the same way my parents did. Those beatings that were far worse than what was deserved for the offense when we dared to misbehave. I know she's been beaten like that at least once before. Unfortunately, I also know that both of my brothers have an issue controlling anger.
I think the saddest part of this entire thing is that she won't have anyone to really talk to her about what she did. Nobody will sit her down and explain why you don't throw animals. Nobody will talk through the consequences of being mean to animals. Nobody will share with her the potential legal trouble she could get in by posting something like that online.
Oh how I wish I could have more influence in the lives of these children.
The video she posted was a little disturbing and for several reasons. It was taken upside down with a ceiling fan spinning, which made it difficult to watch. The content consisted of her friend tossing their small dog to her and her dropping the dog.
I'm not sure why she thought she should post a video of her being rough with a small dog online, but she did. The girls were laughing and I'm sure the dog wasn't injured. However, he could have been.
What in the world goes through her head to do something like that? Even if she'd caught the dog, what was the point?
She doesn't have the best track record with being kind to animals. When she was much younger, kittens and a variety of reptiles were often in peril if left within her reach. It took her a long time learn how to gently handle pets, if she ever did. By the looks of the video, I still don't think she has learned to respect them as living creatures.
The other thing that was disturbing was that it's really unknown the punishment she received for that. I live with that very real fear that my brother disciplines the same way my parents did. Those beatings that were far worse than what was deserved for the offense when we dared to misbehave. I know she's been beaten like that at least once before. Unfortunately, I also know that both of my brothers have an issue controlling anger.
I think the saddest part of this entire thing is that she won't have anyone to really talk to her about what she did. Nobody will sit her down and explain why you don't throw animals. Nobody will talk through the consequences of being mean to animals. Nobody will share with her the potential legal trouble she could get in by posting something like that online.
Oh how I wish I could have more influence in the lives of these children.
Friday, January 4, 2013
Vacation Part Deux
After the disappointing forced cancellation of our vacation in November, we are now fully booked to head out in less than 2 weeks.
I'm a little anxious that we will get told at the last minute that we must cancel again. I think that's why it took me this long to finally book everything.
Honestly, I was excited to have to rebook it all. Booking a vacation is a lot of work.
We had to coordinate with my husband's parents and plan accordingly. That left us about a 12 day period to travel in January or we would have to postpone until March or April.
During that time period, the cruise we wanted wasn't running from New Orleans but was from Galveston. That wasn't a huge change for us, the travel time is about the same. However, the cost was higher. On the other hand, I do love Texas and it will give us an opportunity to tour the Cowboys new stadium.
This experience has certainly taught me a lot about myself.
I am way too familiar with disappointment. I recovered from this far too fast. Not that I want to wallow in the disappointment for weeks or months, cause I don't. But I shouldn't expect disappointment. Disappointment should hurt, that's the healthy thing.
I've also learned that my organizational skills and business experience comes in very useful when negotiating through deals like this. My husband's company paid for the cruise, overage on new cruise, non-refundable hotel rooms, and prebooked excursions. They also paid for the cost of having the dogs groomed and my hair color/cut, things that happened specifically in preparation for our trip.
I really can adapt to abrupt changes. I don't ever adapt well to changes in my daily routines and for the most part hadn't ever adapted to changes in big plans either. I did take this huge, abrupt change fairly well. Sure, I was pissed and broke down in tears a couple times. But I went on as if it was just a bump in the road that I got over quickly.
Things really do happen for a reason. We were to leave on a Thursday and be gone for 12 days. I got sick on Sunday and didn't recover for about 10 days. I would have been miserable on our trip and not enjoyed it much.
I learned something about my husband too. He really can get excited about something. He was more excited and more disappointed than I was about the trip. I just hope that he gets that same excitement this time too. I can't wait to spend the time with him!
I'm a little anxious that we will get told at the last minute that we must cancel again. I think that's why it took me this long to finally book everything.
Honestly, I was excited to have to rebook it all. Booking a vacation is a lot of work.
We had to coordinate with my husband's parents and plan accordingly. That left us about a 12 day period to travel in January or we would have to postpone until March or April.
During that time period, the cruise we wanted wasn't running from New Orleans but was from Galveston. That wasn't a huge change for us, the travel time is about the same. However, the cost was higher. On the other hand, I do love Texas and it will give us an opportunity to tour the Cowboys new stadium.
This experience has certainly taught me a lot about myself.
I am way too familiar with disappointment. I recovered from this far too fast. Not that I want to wallow in the disappointment for weeks or months, cause I don't. But I shouldn't expect disappointment. Disappointment should hurt, that's the healthy thing.
I've also learned that my organizational skills and business experience comes in very useful when negotiating through deals like this. My husband's company paid for the cruise, overage on new cruise, non-refundable hotel rooms, and prebooked excursions. They also paid for the cost of having the dogs groomed and my hair color/cut, things that happened specifically in preparation for our trip.
I really can adapt to abrupt changes. I don't ever adapt well to changes in my daily routines and for the most part hadn't ever adapted to changes in big plans either. I did take this huge, abrupt change fairly well. Sure, I was pissed and broke down in tears a couple times. But I went on as if it was just a bump in the road that I got over quickly.
Things really do happen for a reason. We were to leave on a Thursday and be gone for 12 days. I got sick on Sunday and didn't recover for about 10 days. I would have been miserable on our trip and not enjoyed it much.
I learned something about my husband too. He really can get excited about something. He was more excited and more disappointed than I was about the trip. I just hope that he gets that same excitement this time too. I can't wait to spend the time with him!
Thursday, January 3, 2013
MIL Chaos
For the first time in a year, we went back and stayed with my husband's parents. There are plenty of good reasons for us not to spend a lot of time there and this stay added another.
Things are just not the same with his mom's dementia. Without question, dementia is unpredictable. Sometimes are better than others and hers is progressing very rapidly.
Our visit started with my husband having to explain to his mom several times on a phone call that we were staying all night Christmas Eve. Not too big of a deal since she actually did know who she was talking to at the time.
Once we arrived at the house, it was busy as we would have expected. But, it was a very different kind of busy.
My sister-in-law had made several of the traditional dishes for Christmas dinner and working on pies. As she stood over a hot stove stirring up pie filling, my mother-in-law hovered over her shoulder. It reminded me of an anxious child hovering with their mother in the kitchen. At the time I didn't realize just how true that analogy would be.
My sister-in-law had to constantly tell her mom to not touch the stove; not to set plastic things on the hot burners; not to pour in ingredients that weren't needed. Child-like indeed.
She let me know what was needed for the next day prior to leaving and let me know that her mom was actually having a really good day. Oy!!! This was a good day? We had only been there an hour, what would happen next?
The four of us finally settled in the living room to watch a movie. Once my mother-in-law went to bed, we got a chance to talk to my father-in-law. That was eye opening to say the least.
He shared with us that despite what he tells people, he knows her condition has gotten a lot worse in the past six months. As I suspected, he spends a great deal of his time taking care of her. He takes them out to eat a lot so that she doesn't cook. He drives her where she needs to go, as well as runs the errands for others that she used to be able to do.
Quite honestly he also shared with us his growing frustration. He said he often loses his cool with her when he shouldn't. This is one of the ways the health care system of a small town has failed him, her and the entire family. At no time during this entire process has any health care provider suggested counseling or support groups for any of them.
After tossing and turning most of the night, I woke up early and prepped myself to help with dinner. I didn't realize what a chore that would be. Actually, the night before I had been quite offended when my sister-in-law told me how to prepare green beans. Good grief!!! That's a slam for a foodie like me who thrives in the kitchen.
The turkey and ham were smoked and only needed to be heated. Much to my surprise, they were both put in the oven at a high temp for 4 hours prior to serving. They were cooked as if they were raw. Not a mistake my mother-in-law would have made in previous years.
The green beans were already on the stove by 9 am. In fact, so were noodles, gravy, potatoes and basically everything else we were fixing that morning. There was nothing left to do but manage her.
Every 10 minutes, she wanted to turn all the burners on high. So, I spent a lot of time following her from room to room and redirecting her to go relax in the living room.
During a couple of our short stays in front of the tv, my mother-in-law tried to have casual conversation.
She asked my husband where he was working now. He's had the same job for over 13 years and she's visited his office. She asked when our kids were coming. She asked me if I was going to marry one of her boys. At least she knows she has boys. She referred to one of our dogs has hers. She told me how she had to go back to work after Christmas. She retired a couple years ago. I asked her if she knew my name, she didn't but knew I was her daughter. I am not, but I'm sure she thought I was.
Thankfully, the time finally came to finish up lunch in the kitchen. Trying to salvage the turkey and ham, I opened the oven to baste the turkey and glaze the ham. She went in to pull the pans out with her bare hands before I grabbed her, pulling her away.
As she hovered over me like she was a child, I found myself doing little besides keeping her from burning herself on the stove. My father-in-law had reached his breaking point and had begun raising his voice, something I'd never heard before then.
I suppose cleverly and sadly, I sent her looking for various unnecessary items in the kitchen while I was in crunch time with dinner prep. While it kept her busy for an hour, it was sad that she could so easily be redirected with meaningless tasks.
Once everyone arrived, we started lunch. She had to be told how to fill her plate and that she needed to eat something besides dessert. Other than that, she got very quiet. I really believe the room was filled with people who were only vaguely familiar, if at all and she was uncomfortable.
The rest of the day was much the same. Quiet and somber. For us, it was surreal and sad. It was a long quiet drive home, trying to digest all we had witnessed.
It's difficult to grasp that last year was better than this year and this year will be the best Christmas we have with her in the future. It's a sad reality to know she will never improve. As hard as this holiday was, they are sure to get harder.
What a difference a year makes, indeed. She had some obvious quirks last year at Christmas time. The day after Christmas last year was when my husband sat his parents down and insisted they try to figure out what was wrong with her. In just a years time, she's diminished to this. There are no brakes to throw on this spiral. There's nothing humanly possible left to do that's going keep her from getting worse.
Above all else, my heart breaks for my husband and his family. The journey with dementia is a long, painful one that nobody would ever choose to take.
Things are just not the same with his mom's dementia. Without question, dementia is unpredictable. Sometimes are better than others and hers is progressing very rapidly.
Our visit started with my husband having to explain to his mom several times on a phone call that we were staying all night Christmas Eve. Not too big of a deal since she actually did know who she was talking to at the time.
Once we arrived at the house, it was busy as we would have expected. But, it was a very different kind of busy.
My sister-in-law had made several of the traditional dishes for Christmas dinner and working on pies. As she stood over a hot stove stirring up pie filling, my mother-in-law hovered over her shoulder. It reminded me of an anxious child hovering with their mother in the kitchen. At the time I didn't realize just how true that analogy would be.
My sister-in-law had to constantly tell her mom to not touch the stove; not to set plastic things on the hot burners; not to pour in ingredients that weren't needed. Child-like indeed.
She let me know what was needed for the next day prior to leaving and let me know that her mom was actually having a really good day. Oy!!! This was a good day? We had only been there an hour, what would happen next?
The four of us finally settled in the living room to watch a movie. Once my mother-in-law went to bed, we got a chance to talk to my father-in-law. That was eye opening to say the least.
He shared with us that despite what he tells people, he knows her condition has gotten a lot worse in the past six months. As I suspected, he spends a great deal of his time taking care of her. He takes them out to eat a lot so that she doesn't cook. He drives her where she needs to go, as well as runs the errands for others that she used to be able to do.
Quite honestly he also shared with us his growing frustration. He said he often loses his cool with her when he shouldn't. This is one of the ways the health care system of a small town has failed him, her and the entire family. At no time during this entire process has any health care provider suggested counseling or support groups for any of them.
After tossing and turning most of the night, I woke up early and prepped myself to help with dinner. I didn't realize what a chore that would be. Actually, the night before I had been quite offended when my sister-in-law told me how to prepare green beans. Good grief!!! That's a slam for a foodie like me who thrives in the kitchen.
The turkey and ham were smoked and only needed to be heated. Much to my surprise, they were both put in the oven at a high temp for 4 hours prior to serving. They were cooked as if they were raw. Not a mistake my mother-in-law would have made in previous years.
The green beans were already on the stove by 9 am. In fact, so were noodles, gravy, potatoes and basically everything else we were fixing that morning. There was nothing left to do but manage her.
Every 10 minutes, she wanted to turn all the burners on high. So, I spent a lot of time following her from room to room and redirecting her to go relax in the living room.
During a couple of our short stays in front of the tv, my mother-in-law tried to have casual conversation.
She asked my husband where he was working now. He's had the same job for over 13 years and she's visited his office. She asked when our kids were coming. She asked me if I was going to marry one of her boys. At least she knows she has boys. She referred to one of our dogs has hers. She told me how she had to go back to work after Christmas. She retired a couple years ago. I asked her if she knew my name, she didn't but knew I was her daughter. I am not, but I'm sure she thought I was.
Thankfully, the time finally came to finish up lunch in the kitchen. Trying to salvage the turkey and ham, I opened the oven to baste the turkey and glaze the ham. She went in to pull the pans out with her bare hands before I grabbed her, pulling her away.
As she hovered over me like she was a child, I found myself doing little besides keeping her from burning herself on the stove. My father-in-law had reached his breaking point and had begun raising his voice, something I'd never heard before then.
I suppose cleverly and sadly, I sent her looking for various unnecessary items in the kitchen while I was in crunch time with dinner prep. While it kept her busy for an hour, it was sad that she could so easily be redirected with meaningless tasks.
Once everyone arrived, we started lunch. She had to be told how to fill her plate and that she needed to eat something besides dessert. Other than that, she got very quiet. I really believe the room was filled with people who were only vaguely familiar, if at all and she was uncomfortable.
The rest of the day was much the same. Quiet and somber. For us, it was surreal and sad. It was a long quiet drive home, trying to digest all we had witnessed.
It's difficult to grasp that last year was better than this year and this year will be the best Christmas we have with her in the future. It's a sad reality to know she will never improve. As hard as this holiday was, they are sure to get harder.
What a difference a year makes, indeed. She had some obvious quirks last year at Christmas time. The day after Christmas last year was when my husband sat his parents down and insisted they try to figure out what was wrong with her. In just a years time, she's diminished to this. There are no brakes to throw on this spiral. There's nothing humanly possible left to do that's going keep her from getting worse.
Above all else, my heart breaks for my husband and his family. The journey with dementia is a long, painful one that nobody would ever choose to take.
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
Dentist
I know, usually a trip to the dentist comes with the imaginary "du..du..du" scary movie style. Not for me though. I LOVE IT!
You are probably thinking I'm some kind of freak and maybe I am. But I really do love going to the dentist.
As I've mentioned before, I wasn't taken to the dentist as a child. In elementary school, we were taken each year to teach us good dental health and get checked. The dentist made us chew these nasty pink tablets that would stick to the tarter build up on the teeth.
How fun right? Wrong!
As a child who was given no instruction on brushing teeth nor the tools to do so, it was humiliating. Of course those stupid pink tablets made my mouth look like a giant flashing neon sign of tooth decay and tarter.
Multiple times, I was sent home with that ugly pink sheet of paper from the dentist saying I had a variety of issues with my teeth including an overbite, cavities and severe tarter. Each pink sheet consequently made it's way to the trash can via my mom.
No money. No time. Dentists lie. There's nothing wrong with you. Those were some of the excuses I got (when I got any) for not following up with the dentist.
We were also given a toothbrush and toothpaste during our school trips to the dentist. Mine were either thrown away or I was forced to clean the toilet at home with them.
During my first job out of high school that offered dental insurance, I finally went for a visit. That first visit led to many, many, many more. I had to get on a quarterly cleaning schedule that would last for five years. Those were some painful visits full of scraping and flossing and literally teaching me how to floss and brush. Yes, I had to be taught the right way to brush my teeth at 18 years old.
I also had to have several fillings. Thankfully, none of the teeth had gotten so bad that fillings wouldn't fix the problem. I also had sealants put on my few good teeth for the first time at 23. Yes, it took 5 years for my mouth to recover from 18 years of neglect.
Maybe after all those visits to the dentist, I might not have been such a big fan. I think maybe that I have transitioned to loving it.
My mom, grandparents and multiple other extended family members have gone through the process of having dentures. Most of them, I was too young to remember but I do remember the process with my mom and grandma.
Their teeth were awful. They had neglected their teeth and gums for so long. They had gingivitis, missing teeth and teeth so rotten they had to be pulled. Crooked, nasty, neglected.
It's reflecting on that process that gets me so excited to go to the dentist. I can't wait to get into that chair, lay back and let them check my teeth.
Sure, they occasionally have to do a little scraping in the nooks and crannies where everybody tends to get build up. But, it's a fairly quick and painless process.
I look forward to those every 6 month visits to hear the words, "You look great, keep doing what you are doing." In fact, when I change dentists, they are often amazed that my mouth is so healthy after I share with them my dental history.
I'm so thankful that I seem to find some of the most understanding and patient dentists. They always are so good to calm any fears I have and reassure me that I have lots and lots and lots of years left on these choppers.
As excited as I get, it's always a sad reminder that they neglected themselves as well as me.
You are probably thinking I'm some kind of freak and maybe I am. But I really do love going to the dentist.
As I've mentioned before, I wasn't taken to the dentist as a child. In elementary school, we were taken each year to teach us good dental health and get checked. The dentist made us chew these nasty pink tablets that would stick to the tarter build up on the teeth.
How fun right? Wrong!
As a child who was given no instruction on brushing teeth nor the tools to do so, it was humiliating. Of course those stupid pink tablets made my mouth look like a giant flashing neon sign of tooth decay and tarter.
Multiple times, I was sent home with that ugly pink sheet of paper from the dentist saying I had a variety of issues with my teeth including an overbite, cavities and severe tarter. Each pink sheet consequently made it's way to the trash can via my mom.
No money. No time. Dentists lie. There's nothing wrong with you. Those were some of the excuses I got (when I got any) for not following up with the dentist.
We were also given a toothbrush and toothpaste during our school trips to the dentist. Mine were either thrown away or I was forced to clean the toilet at home with them.
During my first job out of high school that offered dental insurance, I finally went for a visit. That first visit led to many, many, many more. I had to get on a quarterly cleaning schedule that would last for five years. Those were some painful visits full of scraping and flossing and literally teaching me how to floss and brush. Yes, I had to be taught the right way to brush my teeth at 18 years old.
I also had to have several fillings. Thankfully, none of the teeth had gotten so bad that fillings wouldn't fix the problem. I also had sealants put on my few good teeth for the first time at 23. Yes, it took 5 years for my mouth to recover from 18 years of neglect.
Maybe after all those visits to the dentist, I might not have been such a big fan. I think maybe that I have transitioned to loving it.
My mom, grandparents and multiple other extended family members have gone through the process of having dentures. Most of them, I was too young to remember but I do remember the process with my mom and grandma.
Their teeth were awful. They had neglected their teeth and gums for so long. They had gingivitis, missing teeth and teeth so rotten they had to be pulled. Crooked, nasty, neglected.
It's reflecting on that process that gets me so excited to go to the dentist. I can't wait to get into that chair, lay back and let them check my teeth.
Sure, they occasionally have to do a little scraping in the nooks and crannies where everybody tends to get build up. But, it's a fairly quick and painless process.
I look forward to those every 6 month visits to hear the words, "You look great, keep doing what you are doing." In fact, when I change dentists, they are often amazed that my mouth is so healthy after I share with them my dental history.
I'm so thankful that I seem to find some of the most understanding and patient dentists. They always are so good to calm any fears I have and reassure me that I have lots and lots and lots of years left on these choppers.
As excited as I get, it's always a sad reminder that they neglected themselves as well as me.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Holiday Break
I've taken a bit of a hiatus from the blog world. It's not because life has been dull and there's been nothing on my mind. Quite the opposite to be honest.
My husband has been off work (sorta) since December 20th. He started his holiday break a day early when a snow storm kept him from leaving town.
He has been working on occasion, but not like he had. By the time he started his holiday break, I think I was beyond frustrated with his busy schedule. So much so that it took me a couple days to relax and begin enjoying the time with him.
It has been a full year since he has taken a break like this and it's been wonderful.
As I sit here tonight, I find myself a bit emotional at the idea that we only have one day left of the break. I'm not ready for it to be over. I'm not ready for him to head back to work on Wednesday.
It's been a relaxing and yet full 12 days.
We've stayed up late and slept in. We had breakfast together most days. Waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy. We've cleaned and done laundry together. Watched tv and movies. Gone out with friends.
Mostly, we've just taken time to be with each other. Laughing and crying (yes, a Christmas trip back home was difficult) together.
After a emotionally stressful year, it has been wonderful to end it by just having quality time with my husband.
Sure, I have and will continue to reflect on the past year. I'm sure I will look at goals and plans for the next year. But for now, I just want to continue to enjoy the time with my husband.
The super, awesome, fantastic, wonderful news is that provided we do not have any disruptions, in 16 days we will have another 12 days together where he doesn't work. And, 7 of those days will be cell and computer free!!!!
My husband has been off work (sorta) since December 20th. He started his holiday break a day early when a snow storm kept him from leaving town.
He has been working on occasion, but not like he had. By the time he started his holiday break, I think I was beyond frustrated with his busy schedule. So much so that it took me a couple days to relax and begin enjoying the time with him.
It has been a full year since he has taken a break like this and it's been wonderful.
As I sit here tonight, I find myself a bit emotional at the idea that we only have one day left of the break. I'm not ready for it to be over. I'm not ready for him to head back to work on Wednesday.
It's been a relaxing and yet full 12 days.
We've stayed up late and slept in. We had breakfast together most days. Waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, biscuits and gravy. We've cleaned and done laundry together. Watched tv and movies. Gone out with friends.
Mostly, we've just taken time to be with each other. Laughing and crying (yes, a Christmas trip back home was difficult) together.
After a emotionally stressful year, it has been wonderful to end it by just having quality time with my husband.
Sure, I have and will continue to reflect on the past year. I'm sure I will look at goals and plans for the next year. But for now, I just want to continue to enjoy the time with my husband.
The super, awesome, fantastic, wonderful news is that provided we do not have any disruptions, in 16 days we will have another 12 days together where he doesn't work. And, 7 of those days will be cell and computer free!!!!
Monday, December 24, 2012
$2 Bill
I'm not sure why, but sometimes I'm reminded of sweet little things that happened in the past and today was no different. Unfortunately, most of the time the sweet little things are often clouded by the ugly, terrible or evil and today was no different.
First of all let me say that I do NOT go out shopping on Christmas eve, especially with only 3 hours of sleep. So today was a new experience for me. Secondly, my husband is a ROCKSTAR!!! We went to the mall, pet store, Walmart and Hyvee in less than 2 hours and he scored front row parking at both the mall and Walmart.
As we drove by a couple banks, I saw older men walking into the lobbies. Because my brain now powers down, I wondered as I usually do what they must be doing. Making last minute deposits to cover their wives' shopping sprees? Year end banking before leaving town? Avoiding the shoppers and getting cash for gifts?
It must have been how my Grandpa looked on Christmas Eve as he walked into the bank at home. As far back as I can remember, my grandpa would go to the bank and get $2 bills for each of the grand kids. A $2 bill wasn't just a rarity, but for us poor kids it was a lot of money. He would hand them out to us on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. We would hang onto them as if they were gold.
Looking back on it, I fondly think of it as one of our rare, but unique family traditions. A tradition that eventually stopped, but one I remember so well.
When I was little, I would hold onto my $2 bills tightly. I'd add them to the $5 I got from a set of great-grandparents. Sometimes, I'd hold onto the $7 for a couple years in a row. Eventually, I would take my small (ginormous to me) pile of cash to the bank and deposit it into my savings account.
I still have the little hand written bank book where you can see small deposits made every few years. That was long before everything was electronic.
It was as an adult I found that little bank book. The deposits were mostly there, I think. I had one deposit of $25 when I was in elementary school. I won a Farm Bureau safety poster drawing/coloring contest.
To spare you the details, my mom wiped out every penny from that account. Never for me, but for herself.
Of course, the sweet memory is also marred by the terrible things my grandpa did. It kind of takes the innocence and kindness away when you know the kind of man he was then.
The bad erases the good and life continues to go on. However, I do wonder if I would have carried over any of these traditions if I'd had kids. Maybe!
First of all let me say that I do NOT go out shopping on Christmas eve, especially with only 3 hours of sleep. So today was a new experience for me. Secondly, my husband is a ROCKSTAR!!! We went to the mall, pet store, Walmart and Hyvee in less than 2 hours and he scored front row parking at both the mall and Walmart.
As we drove by a couple banks, I saw older men walking into the lobbies. Because my brain now powers down, I wondered as I usually do what they must be doing. Making last minute deposits to cover their wives' shopping sprees? Year end banking before leaving town? Avoiding the shoppers and getting cash for gifts?
It must have been how my Grandpa looked on Christmas Eve as he walked into the bank at home. As far back as I can remember, my grandpa would go to the bank and get $2 bills for each of the grand kids. A $2 bill wasn't just a rarity, but for us poor kids it was a lot of money. He would hand them out to us on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day. We would hang onto them as if they were gold.
Looking back on it, I fondly think of it as one of our rare, but unique family traditions. A tradition that eventually stopped, but one I remember so well.
When I was little, I would hold onto my $2 bills tightly. I'd add them to the $5 I got from a set of great-grandparents. Sometimes, I'd hold onto the $7 for a couple years in a row. Eventually, I would take my small (ginormous to me) pile of cash to the bank and deposit it into my savings account.
I still have the little hand written bank book where you can see small deposits made every few years. That was long before everything was electronic.
It was as an adult I found that little bank book. The deposits were mostly there, I think. I had one deposit of $25 when I was in elementary school. I won a Farm Bureau safety poster drawing/coloring contest.
To spare you the details, my mom wiped out every penny from that account. Never for me, but for herself.
Of course, the sweet memory is also marred by the terrible things my grandpa did. It kind of takes the innocence and kindness away when you know the kind of man he was then.
The bad erases the good and life continues to go on. However, I do wonder if I would have carried over any of these traditions if I'd had kids. Maybe!
Sunday, December 23, 2012
Christmas Eve
I would love to be asleep, but an emotionally draining morning led to a three hour nap and me being wide awake.
It's officially Christmas Eve, which could be part of the reason for the emotionally draining morning I had.
With the exception of a couple loaves of bread, all of my baking is done. Cake pops are all finished, delivered and probably consumed. Christmas is all purchased, wrapped and under the tree. An instrumental medley of Christmas music is playing and the lights are twinkling.
All that is left to do is celebrate the birth of the Savior. That's all that should be left, anyway.
I don't know what you are doing tonight, maybe wrapping gifts or doing last minute baking. Maybe you are prepping your home for family or maybe you are already enjoying those who have traveled to see you. Maybe you are in route or prepping to travel to see family.
Me, I sit here filled with grief. It isn't that I focus on the negative or enjoy the sadness. It really is a completely natural thing to grieve big losses at this time of year.
Tomorrow night, we will make the 2 1/2 trek to SE Kansas to spend time with my husband's family. It really is the only time of year that we spend any quantity of time with them. But just the thought this year makes me anxious and sick.
This has been a tough year in so many ways and one of those has been with this family. His mom has continued to mentally decline. His dad has struggled with a couple health issues while doing his best to care for his wife. The family dynamic has changed with the hub of the family now permanently impaired. I'm heartbroken for my husband and his family, praying for some semblance of happy Christmas' past at least one more year.
I can't get excited about the visit. His siblings have a serious dislike of me (I've been told hate might be a bit strong, even though I'm convinced they do hate me). His niece and nephew are young adults who often act like elementary school children. I'm not exaggerating when I say the family as a whole will ignore me and be happier if I am isolated to a part of the house where they cannot see me. It will be miserable, as usual.
I will be with a family who doesn't want me around while I'm grieving another family who doesn't want me either. Just a little over 10 minutes away, my family will be celebrating Christmas.
Don't get me wrong, I'm positive that they will be dysfunctionally celebrating because they are incapable of doing it any other way.
My brothers, sister-in-law, nieces and nephews....it's another painful Christmas away from them. They won't contact me, no Christmas cards. I won't contact them, it's too hard. So close, yet so far away. I will think about them all day long and hold onto that unrealistic hope that they will be something they aren't or do something they won't.
I've got to be honest, I have been praying about this. I've prayed for a miracle. I've prayed that my anxiety and sadness would all be pushed aside by the love of my family. I've prayed that the same God who moved mountains would also bring repentance and redemption to my family. I've prayed that the same God who put the stars in the sky would purge the evil from my parents' hearts and replace it with a genuine love for me. A true Christmas miracle that would all be.
Sadly, I don't have the kind of faith to believe any of that could ever happen. I think I need to stick to just praying for the strength to get through it all until it doesn't hurt so much. The grief is fairly significant this year. Maybe getting through is going to have to be the Christmas miracle I have to settle for this year.
It's officially Christmas Eve, which could be part of the reason for the emotionally draining morning I had.
With the exception of a couple loaves of bread, all of my baking is done. Cake pops are all finished, delivered and probably consumed. Christmas is all purchased, wrapped and under the tree. An instrumental medley of Christmas music is playing and the lights are twinkling.
All that is left to do is celebrate the birth of the Savior. That's all that should be left, anyway.
I don't know what you are doing tonight, maybe wrapping gifts or doing last minute baking. Maybe you are prepping your home for family or maybe you are already enjoying those who have traveled to see you. Maybe you are in route or prepping to travel to see family.
Me, I sit here filled with grief. It isn't that I focus on the negative or enjoy the sadness. It really is a completely natural thing to grieve big losses at this time of year.
Tomorrow night, we will make the 2 1/2 trek to SE Kansas to spend time with my husband's family. It really is the only time of year that we spend any quantity of time with them. But just the thought this year makes me anxious and sick.
This has been a tough year in so many ways and one of those has been with this family. His mom has continued to mentally decline. His dad has struggled with a couple health issues while doing his best to care for his wife. The family dynamic has changed with the hub of the family now permanently impaired. I'm heartbroken for my husband and his family, praying for some semblance of happy Christmas' past at least one more year.
I can't get excited about the visit. His siblings have a serious dislike of me (I've been told hate might be a bit strong, even though I'm convinced they do hate me). His niece and nephew are young adults who often act like elementary school children. I'm not exaggerating when I say the family as a whole will ignore me and be happier if I am isolated to a part of the house where they cannot see me. It will be miserable, as usual.
I will be with a family who doesn't want me around while I'm grieving another family who doesn't want me either. Just a little over 10 minutes away, my family will be celebrating Christmas.
Don't get me wrong, I'm positive that they will be dysfunctionally celebrating because they are incapable of doing it any other way.
My brothers, sister-in-law, nieces and nephews....it's another painful Christmas away from them. They won't contact me, no Christmas cards. I won't contact them, it's too hard. So close, yet so far away. I will think about them all day long and hold onto that unrealistic hope that they will be something they aren't or do something they won't.
I've got to be honest, I have been praying about this. I've prayed for a miracle. I've prayed that my anxiety and sadness would all be pushed aside by the love of my family. I've prayed that the same God who moved mountains would also bring repentance and redemption to my family. I've prayed that the same God who put the stars in the sky would purge the evil from my parents' hearts and replace it with a genuine love for me. A true Christmas miracle that would all be.
Sadly, I don't have the kind of faith to believe any of that could ever happen. I think I need to stick to just praying for the strength to get through it all until it doesn't hurt so much. The grief is fairly significant this year. Maybe getting through is going to have to be the Christmas miracle I have to settle for this year.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Different Questions
Unless you have been hiding in a hole for the past week, then you obviously know about the shooting in a Connecticut elementary school. Since it has permeated every bit of media coverage, you probably know more than you want.
While everyone seemingly struggles to understand why this would happen or what kind of person could do this, my thinking veers off in a completely different direction.
I wonder why too. Why are people so shocked by this? I'm so tired of the shock factor of this. Are people living in such a fantasy world that they don't believe this kind of thing happens? What's worse is that the general population has this same shock each and every time something like this happens.
Don't get me wrong, I am not saying it isn't sad. I'll get to that later. I will also admit that my background makes me quite cynical and numb to this sort of thing.
I've had guns pointed at my head, trigger pulled only to be lucky enough that it was the empty chamber. I've been shot at multiple times. I've been stabbed. I've had knives held to my neck. I've been choked to the point of not breathing. Some of that happened before I was a teenager. I've been face to face with true evil.
Bad things happen everyday. Adults, children, elderly, disabled...nobody is immune.
To live with shock over this is essentially saying that you believe we live in a perfect world and everything is roses and sunshine. That's simply not true.
I saw so many friends post on fb and heard so many reporters saying that they would be hugging their children a little tighter after that massacre.
Really?
Granted, I don't have children so my view might again be jaded somewhat. Shouldn't you be hugging your children everyday like there is no tomorrow? We aren't promised tomorrow. Regardless of the season of life or the difficulty of the child, your love and affection should be given freely and not come conditional on some fear that you could somehow lose your child in a horrific way.
Another thing I keep asking is if people are truly as ignorant as they come across.
I've heard on tv and read on fb people referring to mental illness as being similar to or equal to demon possession. If this is your belief, you are wrong. Be careful how you categorize people verbally or even in your heart. I understand you are only trying to make sense of an irrational tragedy. However, ignorant rants only distance you from and hurt those around you who do have mental health issues. Mental health care in the US is terrible and comes with a horrible stigma. Let's not make this worse.
mental illness.
People, government leaders included, are looking at tighter gun control as a form of preventing this in the future. On the same day as this tragedy, an entire class of students in China was stabbed. Granted, nobody died but it is still lives that will be forever changed by a tragedy. The focus really does need to be on mental health.
This next year, the mental health care guidelines are changing and it's not good. The worst case scenarios of mental illness need the most help. Sometimes that is multiple visits to a professional each week, extended sessions, inpatient care or medications that are extremely expensive. Let me share something from personal experience.
I am covered by two health insurance companies. There are only three professionals within 30 minutes of home who specialize in my particular diagnosis. All of them accept one of my insurances, but not the other. So, this year, I could go to a psychologist multiple times a week for 90 minutes each session. My first insurance would cover 50% of the visit and the second would cover 50% of the leftover once my $1500 out-of-network deductible was met.
Simplified - $180 for one session would have $90 paid by primary and $45 (once deductible met) would be paid by secondary. That's $3750 out-of-pocket for a year of mental health care with 2 insurances.
This year, I can only get a 60 minute session. My out-of-pocket deductible is higher. Flex spending contributions are lower. Coverage for sessions is worse.
Simplified - $120 for one session would have $45 paid by primary and $35 paid by secondary (once $2000 deductible is met, which it won't be). To go weekly, it would cost out-of-pocket $3750 for less care.
Less coverage with more restrictions on care. There is a problem!
I don't want to close without touching on the true sadness of this. It is incredibly sad for the families, friends, teachers and country. It's too many lives cut short, that should have been. There is no way around that. It's sad.
I can't help but feel sad for the shooter's family. This was obviously not a healthy person, he was a sick person.
If nothing else comes of this, I hope that there can be focus put back on caring for mental illness. I hope that this extreme loss will make real the need for better and more mental health care.
While everyone seemingly struggles to understand why this would happen or what kind of person could do this, my thinking veers off in a completely different direction.
I wonder why too. Why are people so shocked by this? I'm so tired of the shock factor of this. Are people living in such a fantasy world that they don't believe this kind of thing happens? What's worse is that the general population has this same shock each and every time something like this happens.
Don't get me wrong, I am not saying it isn't sad. I'll get to that later. I will also admit that my background makes me quite cynical and numb to this sort of thing.
I've had guns pointed at my head, trigger pulled only to be lucky enough that it was the empty chamber. I've been shot at multiple times. I've been stabbed. I've had knives held to my neck. I've been choked to the point of not breathing. Some of that happened before I was a teenager. I've been face to face with true evil.
Bad things happen everyday. Adults, children, elderly, disabled...nobody is immune.
To live with shock over this is essentially saying that you believe we live in a perfect world and everything is roses and sunshine. That's simply not true.
I saw so many friends post on fb and heard so many reporters saying that they would be hugging their children a little tighter after that massacre.
Really?
Granted, I don't have children so my view might again be jaded somewhat. Shouldn't you be hugging your children everyday like there is no tomorrow? We aren't promised tomorrow. Regardless of the season of life or the difficulty of the child, your love and affection should be given freely and not come conditional on some fear that you could somehow lose your child in a horrific way.
Another thing I keep asking is if people are truly as ignorant as they come across.
I've heard on tv and read on fb people referring to mental illness as being similar to or equal to demon possession. If this is your belief, you are wrong. Be careful how you categorize people verbally or even in your heart. I understand you are only trying to make sense of an irrational tragedy. However, ignorant rants only distance you from and hurt those around you who do have mental health issues. Mental health care in the US is terrible and comes with a horrible stigma. Let's not make this worse.
mental illness.
People, government leaders included, are looking at tighter gun control as a form of preventing this in the future. On the same day as this tragedy, an entire class of students in China was stabbed. Granted, nobody died but it is still lives that will be forever changed by a tragedy. The focus really does need to be on mental health.
This next year, the mental health care guidelines are changing and it's not good. The worst case scenarios of mental illness need the most help. Sometimes that is multiple visits to a professional each week, extended sessions, inpatient care or medications that are extremely expensive. Let me share something from personal experience.
I am covered by two health insurance companies. There are only three professionals within 30 minutes of home who specialize in my particular diagnosis. All of them accept one of my insurances, but not the other. So, this year, I could go to a psychologist multiple times a week for 90 minutes each session. My first insurance would cover 50% of the visit and the second would cover 50% of the leftover once my $1500 out-of-network deductible was met.
Simplified - $180 for one session would have $90 paid by primary and $45 (once deductible met) would be paid by secondary. That's $3750 out-of-pocket for a year of mental health care with 2 insurances.
This year, I can only get a 60 minute session. My out-of-pocket deductible is higher. Flex spending contributions are lower. Coverage for sessions is worse.
Simplified - $120 for one session would have $45 paid by primary and $35 paid by secondary (once $2000 deductible is met, which it won't be). To go weekly, it would cost out-of-pocket $3750 for less care.
Less coverage with more restrictions on care. There is a problem!
I don't want to close without touching on the true sadness of this. It is incredibly sad for the families, friends, teachers and country. It's too many lives cut short, that should have been. There is no way around that. It's sad.
I can't help but feel sad for the shooter's family. This was obviously not a healthy person, he was a sick person.
If nothing else comes of this, I hope that there can be focus put back on caring for mental illness. I hope that this extreme loss will make real the need for better and more mental health care.
Thursday, December 6, 2012
Christmas Card from Hell #2
On December 6, 2011, I wrote a blog post called "Christmas Cards from Hell." It was the day I received my only communication from my dad's parents. It ignited some pretty strong emotion in me. Last year, I was angered and hurt by the impersonal signature.
Oddly enough today, December 6, 2012, I received my once a year communication from those same grandparents.
For the first time ever, there was a small paragraph written in the card. They actually asked how we were doing and hoped we were doing well. They shared that my grandpa will be having a knee replacement this week.
I think the small paragraph was almost as painful as nothing at all. You would think that I'd be happier with something instead of nothing. The truth is that it's all painful.
Did it take six years for them to figure out that they haven't seen me at a family dinner? Has it really taken six years to notice that they haven't spoken to me?
When I spent a few hours with my brother this summer, I was excited that the visit was beyond my expectations. In the smallest part of my heart, I've tucked away this tiny bit of hope that the holidays would some how be different this year.
For reasons too numerous to list, I know additional contact with my family would be unhealthy. Extended contact with them would come with a very high price. Being near my parents intentionally could easily unravel five years of therapy and progress. But, I still held onto to some unrealistic hope that I'd go through the holidays with some semblance of family.
So, it's good and bad that nothing has come of the wonderful visit I had with him.
This part of the holidays doesn't seem to ever get any better. In fact, it only seems to get more and more painful. Probably the only thing that improves year after year is my ability to hide that pain from those who know me.
I just don't know if I can bare to go through another unstable, highly emotional holiday seasons.
Of course I know that Christmas is all about celebrating the birth of Christ. The family element comes in second in priority during this time of year.
It's just sad that this time of year that should be focused on birth and family, I spend so alone and wishing I'd never been born.
Oddly enough today, December 6, 2012, I received my once a year communication from those same grandparents.
For the first time ever, there was a small paragraph written in the card. They actually asked how we were doing and hoped we were doing well. They shared that my grandpa will be having a knee replacement this week.
I think the small paragraph was almost as painful as nothing at all. You would think that I'd be happier with something instead of nothing. The truth is that it's all painful.
Did it take six years for them to figure out that they haven't seen me at a family dinner? Has it really taken six years to notice that they haven't spoken to me?
When I spent a few hours with my brother this summer, I was excited that the visit was beyond my expectations. In the smallest part of my heart, I've tucked away this tiny bit of hope that the holidays would some how be different this year.
For reasons too numerous to list, I know additional contact with my family would be unhealthy. Extended contact with them would come with a very high price. Being near my parents intentionally could easily unravel five years of therapy and progress. But, I still held onto to some unrealistic hope that I'd go through the holidays with some semblance of family.
So, it's good and bad that nothing has come of the wonderful visit I had with him.
This part of the holidays doesn't seem to ever get any better. In fact, it only seems to get more and more painful. Probably the only thing that improves year after year is my ability to hide that pain from those who know me.
I just don't know if I can bare to go through another unstable, highly emotional holiday seasons.
Of course I know that Christmas is all about celebrating the birth of Christ. The family element comes in second in priority during this time of year.
It's just sad that this time of year that should be focused on birth and family, I spend so alone and wishing I'd never been born.
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Cookie Exchange
At least I can see now that I'm in the home stretch of the worst month of the year. The problem is that it get infinitely worse before it gets better.
All the little naggy sad things that bothered me last month are now giant huge mountains from the minute my eyes open until they close everyday.
It seems unfair that one month of the year makes me miss everything I don't have. Today, it's a job.
I know I said it last year, but this time of year especially makes me miss having a job. It probably seems silly to most everyone. Who wouldn't love not having to do the daily grind everyday, right?
It didn't really matter where I worked, Christmas was always a special, unique time. My co-workers, they were my substitute family. Christmas, it was a time when everyone was able for a time to put aside their differences and show genuine care for each other.
I miss it all. Cookie exchanges. Secret Santa. Christmas parties. Dinners. Celebrating with each other. White elephants. Surprise gifts on my desk.
It was my hustle and bustle of the holidays. It was my warmth on a cold night. It was my light in a dark time.
Those things, they were all more to me than just things.
There are two things that my horrid background has created in me (ok, a lot more than 2 but I'm focusing just on 2). One is that I have a very strong desire to be included. Being in a group of people I know, it's my affirmation that I am wanted and I have a purpose. I know that this is a very natural desire even for people who have no abuse in their background. It's a very natural thing! The abusive background only intensifies this.
Not having this is even more difficult with my background. When everyone around me is scurrying off to this party or that during December, it's a constant battle for me to not personalize it. It's almost impossible to keep in perspective that an empty calendar doesn't mean I have no purpose or am unwanted.
Sadly for my husband, many of our weekend nights are spent driving around looking at Christmas light displays. All while I stare intently out my window biting my lip and doing my best to hold back tears.
The other thing is the gifts. Don't take this as a greedy thing, PLEASE! Receiving gifts is my primary love language, followed closely by words of affirmation. That's just honest.
I have a theory on why that is so.
When I was little, I knew my parents didn't love me. They rarely gave me gifts and when they did, the gifts were usually attached to a condition or horrific act of abuse. I don't think I ever considered it a gift at that point.
My grandma, dysfunctional and screwed up, told us all that she loved us. She always went above and beyond to get us at least one nice gift for our birthdays and Christmas. On our birthdays, she always gave us $25. With $25 we were rich!!! At Christmas, she always did something nice. When we were younger, it was a winter coat and a toy. The toy was taken away from us the minute we got home. As we got older, she would get us something we wanted and usually slip a $20 in the package.
See the pattern? Someone loved me, I got a gift. Someone didn't love, no gift. Don't get me wrong, I know people care about me without having received some small token from them. But you see how I so easily can tie together the idea that someone truly loves me or cares about me because they gave a gift.
I think that adds to the difficulty of this time of year.
After so many years with my husband, I think he has finally figured out that he has to wrap each of my gifts individually. I want to wake up on Christmas morning and have the floor under the tree full of gifts. Whether giving the gifts or receiving them, it is so symbolic of the amount of love that is there. My poor husband has learned that one box with a bunch of things in it just doesn't get as much excitement as each little thing being wrapped individually.
Can you see why my past jobs have helped provide so much of what I needed to get through December?
Cookie exchanges. Secret Santa. Christmas parties. Dinners. Celebrating with each other. White elephants. Surprise gifts on my desk.
So much of what I needed just to survive this time of year was found within my work family. It's not something I've been able to find any other place. I've found glimpses of it over the past few years, but nothing consistent. I see glimpses of it in people I am around, so I know it is possible. It's just not within my grasp right now.
Maybe someday....
All the little naggy sad things that bothered me last month are now giant huge mountains from the minute my eyes open until they close everyday.
It seems unfair that one month of the year makes me miss everything I don't have. Today, it's a job.
I know I said it last year, but this time of year especially makes me miss having a job. It probably seems silly to most everyone. Who wouldn't love not having to do the daily grind everyday, right?
It didn't really matter where I worked, Christmas was always a special, unique time. My co-workers, they were my substitute family. Christmas, it was a time when everyone was able for a time to put aside their differences and show genuine care for each other.
I miss it all. Cookie exchanges. Secret Santa. Christmas parties. Dinners. Celebrating with each other. White elephants. Surprise gifts on my desk.
It was my hustle and bustle of the holidays. It was my warmth on a cold night. It was my light in a dark time.
Those things, they were all more to me than just things.
There are two things that my horrid background has created in me (ok, a lot more than 2 but I'm focusing just on 2). One is that I have a very strong desire to be included. Being in a group of people I know, it's my affirmation that I am wanted and I have a purpose. I know that this is a very natural desire even for people who have no abuse in their background. It's a very natural thing! The abusive background only intensifies this.
Not having this is even more difficult with my background. When everyone around me is scurrying off to this party or that during December, it's a constant battle for me to not personalize it. It's almost impossible to keep in perspective that an empty calendar doesn't mean I have no purpose or am unwanted.
Sadly for my husband, many of our weekend nights are spent driving around looking at Christmas light displays. All while I stare intently out my window biting my lip and doing my best to hold back tears.
The other thing is the gifts. Don't take this as a greedy thing, PLEASE! Receiving gifts is my primary love language, followed closely by words of affirmation. That's just honest.
I have a theory on why that is so.
When I was little, I knew my parents didn't love me. They rarely gave me gifts and when they did, the gifts were usually attached to a condition or horrific act of abuse. I don't think I ever considered it a gift at that point.
My grandma, dysfunctional and screwed up, told us all that she loved us. She always went above and beyond to get us at least one nice gift for our birthdays and Christmas. On our birthdays, she always gave us $25. With $25 we were rich!!! At Christmas, she always did something nice. When we were younger, it was a winter coat and a toy. The toy was taken away from us the minute we got home. As we got older, she would get us something we wanted and usually slip a $20 in the package.
See the pattern? Someone loved me, I got a gift. Someone didn't love, no gift. Don't get me wrong, I know people care about me without having received some small token from them. But you see how I so easily can tie together the idea that someone truly loves me or cares about me because they gave a gift.
I think that adds to the difficulty of this time of year.
After so many years with my husband, I think he has finally figured out that he has to wrap each of my gifts individually. I want to wake up on Christmas morning and have the floor under the tree full of gifts. Whether giving the gifts or receiving them, it is so symbolic of the amount of love that is there. My poor husband has learned that one box with a bunch of things in it just doesn't get as much excitement as each little thing being wrapped individually.
Can you see why my past jobs have helped provide so much of what I needed to get through December?
Cookie exchanges. Secret Santa. Christmas parties. Dinners. Celebrating with each other. White elephants. Surprise gifts on my desk.
So much of what I needed just to survive this time of year was found within my work family. It's not something I've been able to find any other place. I've found glimpses of it over the past few years, but nothing consistent. I see glimpses of it in people I am around, so I know it is possible. It's just not within my grasp right now.
Maybe someday....
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Aging with Humor and Love
I just realized that's it's been a good long while since I shared any of my life lessons from the senior couple I spend time with every week.
The really good news is that "Momma" came home a while ago from the rehab center and is adapting well to be home. I'll have to share more about that later because she's taught me a lot about adapting to change.
By the way, I affectionately refer to her as Momma because of her matriarchal position in her family. She didn't want me to call her Mrs. ___ and insisted I call her by her first name. I have a tough time calling her by her first name. It's a respect thing for me. I wasn't taught or allowed to call my grandparents by their first name. When a person is old enough to be my grandparent, there is no way I can call them by their first name. So a compromise of "Momma" would be it.
As is often the case, not much time goes by without me learning something from them or about myself. Sometimes, the lessons I learn come with a major change of heart for me. I'm hoping that the one of the most recent will be of some value to you too.
A couple weeks ago, the couple faced a huge tragedy in their family. They lost their youngest child and only son. Even without being a parent myself, I know the loss of a child is undoubtedly one of the hardest losses a parent can ever suffer. It's a loss that will sting for the rest of their lives.
After learning of the news, I had a very natural reaction. I didn't want to contact them. I justified my feelings by telling myself that I needed to give them time to grieve and surely they were bombarded with calls or visitors and I wouldn't know what to say to them anyway.
Really? Did I really believe that?
No!
It was a mere excuse to hide the condition of my own heart. I didn't want to be uncomfortable. I didn't want to feel additional pain. I didn't want to see them hurting because I wouldn't be able to make it better for them.
As I fielded calls from friends and church family, I found the same thing. One after another, people shared the same excuses for not contacting them directly.
I'm not pointing fingers here, I was doing it too. It was way easier to use the excuses than to step outside my comfort zone and into the mess they had in front of them. The truth is that I was doing exactly what I despised others doing to me. Using excuses to avoid the mess.
If you've never been in a giant mess, let me tell you something. At the ugliest, messiest points in my life, those were the times when I needed someone to jump in next to me and just be "normal" with me. Those are the times when I MOST needed people to check on me, help me out and even do for me what I couldn't do for myself.
So, that's what I did. I pushed myself past the threshold of my own comfort zone. I picked up the phone and made the call. I had a lot of trepidation, wondered what I would say and tried to talk myself out of it many times.
Once I heard the gentle voice on the other end, all of my fear dissipated. Despite the sadness and obvious grief, the conversation was like every one I'd had with him up to that point. He did as usual...when I asked him if he needed anything, he replied, "Yes, you can get me that million dollars."
I think it was the familiarity of his voice and words that calmed my heart. It was probably at that point when I realized my place in this mess. I needed to be the "normal." I needed to be just as I always had been. Sure, I would need to be a bit more gentle.
Throughout the week following, I continued to field calls and questions from other friends and church family. I encouraged most every one of them to reach out to the couple and show their love. I encouraged them to be "normal" during this time of great loss. I encouraged them to push past their own fears.
I would never tell you the week following was easy. It was heart-wrenching to watch people I care so deeply for hurting. I would never tell you that anything I did to maintain a normal routine was any comfort to them.
It was only during a conversation the week after that when both the husband and wife thanked me for just being around and being "normal."
I share that with you not to pat myself on the back, but to let you know that there is a benefit in pushing past your comfort level in these situations. There is a peace that can be brought to those who are hurting by not backing away because of fear.
Before I close, I want to share a very personal observation on this same subject. If you saw me at church, you'd likely find a seemingly happy person who is somewhat reserved but laughs and jokes with those I know. It's a superficial front I've learned to have in church. The reason? Because early on I found that nobody really wanted to be in the mess with me. If I wanted to be loved by my church family, I needed to smile and suppress any and all emotion. Why? Because whether I sat in the pew or stood in the bathroom or huddled in a corner of the foyer feeling my feelings, which usually brought tears, people ignored me. They wouldn't push past their own discomfort to talk with me, comfort me or just be with me, let alone continue to wade through the mess with me. That hurts! I'm probably getting into another blogpost altogether, but I wanted you to see my point from an additional angle.
It's not easy! But, the next time you find yourself in one of these situations, I encourage you to look past your own discomfort. Look past it and into the other side. The person you want to avoid, probably needs you the most at that moment. Whether it's a friend who's suffered a great loss or the loved one who's lost a job or just a random person you don't know crying at church, step past your anxiety. Comfort them in whatever way you can, whatever is necessary, whatever is "normal."
The really good news is that "Momma" came home a while ago from the rehab center and is adapting well to be home. I'll have to share more about that later because she's taught me a lot about adapting to change.
By the way, I affectionately refer to her as Momma because of her matriarchal position in her family. She didn't want me to call her Mrs. ___ and insisted I call her by her first name. I have a tough time calling her by her first name. It's a respect thing for me. I wasn't taught or allowed to call my grandparents by their first name. When a person is old enough to be my grandparent, there is no way I can call them by their first name. So a compromise of "Momma" would be it.
As is often the case, not much time goes by without me learning something from them or about myself. Sometimes, the lessons I learn come with a major change of heart for me. I'm hoping that the one of the most recent will be of some value to you too.
A couple weeks ago, the couple faced a huge tragedy in their family. They lost their youngest child and only son. Even without being a parent myself, I know the loss of a child is undoubtedly one of the hardest losses a parent can ever suffer. It's a loss that will sting for the rest of their lives.
After learning of the news, I had a very natural reaction. I didn't want to contact them. I justified my feelings by telling myself that I needed to give them time to grieve and surely they were bombarded with calls or visitors and I wouldn't know what to say to them anyway.
Really? Did I really believe that?
No!
It was a mere excuse to hide the condition of my own heart. I didn't want to be uncomfortable. I didn't want to feel additional pain. I didn't want to see them hurting because I wouldn't be able to make it better for them.
As I fielded calls from friends and church family, I found the same thing. One after another, people shared the same excuses for not contacting them directly.
I'm not pointing fingers here, I was doing it too. It was way easier to use the excuses than to step outside my comfort zone and into the mess they had in front of them. The truth is that I was doing exactly what I despised others doing to me. Using excuses to avoid the mess.
If you've never been in a giant mess, let me tell you something. At the ugliest, messiest points in my life, those were the times when I needed someone to jump in next to me and just be "normal" with me. Those are the times when I MOST needed people to check on me, help me out and even do for me what I couldn't do for myself.
So, that's what I did. I pushed myself past the threshold of my own comfort zone. I picked up the phone and made the call. I had a lot of trepidation, wondered what I would say and tried to talk myself out of it many times.
Once I heard the gentle voice on the other end, all of my fear dissipated. Despite the sadness and obvious grief, the conversation was like every one I'd had with him up to that point. He did as usual...when I asked him if he needed anything, he replied, "Yes, you can get me that million dollars."
I think it was the familiarity of his voice and words that calmed my heart. It was probably at that point when I realized my place in this mess. I needed to be the "normal." I needed to be just as I always had been. Sure, I would need to be a bit more gentle.
Throughout the week following, I continued to field calls and questions from other friends and church family. I encouraged most every one of them to reach out to the couple and show their love. I encouraged them to be "normal" during this time of great loss. I encouraged them to push past their own fears.
I would never tell you the week following was easy. It was heart-wrenching to watch people I care so deeply for hurting. I would never tell you that anything I did to maintain a normal routine was any comfort to them.
It was only during a conversation the week after that when both the husband and wife thanked me for just being around and being "normal."
I share that with you not to pat myself on the back, but to let you know that there is a benefit in pushing past your comfort level in these situations. There is a peace that can be brought to those who are hurting by not backing away because of fear.
Before I close, I want to share a very personal observation on this same subject. If you saw me at church, you'd likely find a seemingly happy person who is somewhat reserved but laughs and jokes with those I know. It's a superficial front I've learned to have in church. The reason? Because early on I found that nobody really wanted to be in the mess with me. If I wanted to be loved by my church family, I needed to smile and suppress any and all emotion. Why? Because whether I sat in the pew or stood in the bathroom or huddled in a corner of the foyer feeling my feelings, which usually brought tears, people ignored me. They wouldn't push past their own discomfort to talk with me, comfort me or just be with me, let alone continue to wade through the mess with me. That hurts! I'm probably getting into another blogpost altogether, but I wanted you to see my point from an additional angle.
It's not easy! But, the next time you find yourself in one of these situations, I encourage you to look past your own discomfort. Look past it and into the other side. The person you want to avoid, probably needs you the most at that moment. Whether it's a friend who's suffered a great loss or the loved one who's lost a job or just a random person you don't know crying at church, step past your anxiety. Comfort them in whatever way you can, whatever is necessary, whatever is "normal."
Friday, November 23, 2012
Unusual Contact From Home
Another Thanksgiving has come and gone for us. We spent most of the day traveling and napping and feeling the sting of disappointment. No traditional meal. No family. Just the husband and I with our three furry pups.
It goes without saying that we had strategically planned our vacation to avoid our typical holiday funk. I had every hope that this year I would be able to overcome my general depression over being one of the few people I know who would not see one family member over Thanksgiving.
I was doing fairly well despite our massive change in plans. That was until I received a text message from home.
My sister-in-law sent me a text from my brother letting me know that my aunt and uncle from Minnesota were in town and he thought I'd like to see them.
Whoa!
Let me start by saying that it isn't completely unusual for my sister-in-law to send me a text on holidays. No biggie! But this was different. Not in over five years has there been anything close to an invitation or letting me know anything about family visiting from out of town. Heck, there's not even any info sent when someone dies, gets married or a baby is born.
Just a side note here, you might find it strange for my extremely dysfunctional family to have had no deaths in over 14 years; only 1 marriage in over 12 years; only 1 baby born in the last 7 years, no divorces in over 6 years and that extends through 3 grandparents, 4 aunts, 4 uncles and 12 cousins.
With the text coming in just a few miles from Branson, there was not chance we would be able to visit them anyway...even if I'd wanted.
The sad reality is that I would have wanted to see them. I haven't seen them since the last time we saw them on a trip to Las Vegas about seven years ago. So much has changed since we saw them last. Honestly, my desire to see them would be entirely selfish and likely make them uncomfortable.
This is the aunt who during a visitation hearing in court accused my grandparents of abusing and inappropriate sexual acts with my cousins. It was literally the closest anyone in my family got to getting caught. I have a crap ton of questions I would love to ask her. Probably the hardest one would be how she reconciled in her own heart enough to go stay in the same house with the same person she accused of abuse.
Needless-to-say, I failed miserably after that at keeping the holiday depression from kicking my butt.
I swapped a couple surface text messages with my aunt and knew they were all celebrating Thanksgiving together as one big happy family.
Now I fully understand that even the most dysfunctional family can make themselves look good for a short time. But the idea of being the only one left out of it all was a bit more than I could stomach.
This is something I have been grieving for over five painful years. I would rather here nothing at all than tidbits. I would rather live with what I assume than what I know. Reality and truth is just too hard and avoidance is how I cope.
I hope the level of difficulty I'm having getting through Thanksgiving isn't a foreshadowing of what Christmas will bring.
It goes without saying that we had strategically planned our vacation to avoid our typical holiday funk. I had every hope that this year I would be able to overcome my general depression over being one of the few people I know who would not see one family member over Thanksgiving.
I was doing fairly well despite our massive change in plans. That was until I received a text message from home.
My sister-in-law sent me a text from my brother letting me know that my aunt and uncle from Minnesota were in town and he thought I'd like to see them.
Whoa!
Let me start by saying that it isn't completely unusual for my sister-in-law to send me a text on holidays. No biggie! But this was different. Not in over five years has there been anything close to an invitation or letting me know anything about family visiting from out of town. Heck, there's not even any info sent when someone dies, gets married or a baby is born.
Just a side note here, you might find it strange for my extremely dysfunctional family to have had no deaths in over 14 years; only 1 marriage in over 12 years; only 1 baby born in the last 7 years, no divorces in over 6 years and that extends through 3 grandparents, 4 aunts, 4 uncles and 12 cousins.
With the text coming in just a few miles from Branson, there was not chance we would be able to visit them anyway...even if I'd wanted.
The sad reality is that I would have wanted to see them. I haven't seen them since the last time we saw them on a trip to Las Vegas about seven years ago. So much has changed since we saw them last. Honestly, my desire to see them would be entirely selfish and likely make them uncomfortable.
This is the aunt who during a visitation hearing in court accused my grandparents of abusing and inappropriate sexual acts with my cousins. It was literally the closest anyone in my family got to getting caught. I have a crap ton of questions I would love to ask her. Probably the hardest one would be how she reconciled in her own heart enough to go stay in the same house with the same person she accused of abuse.
Needless-to-say, I failed miserably after that at keeping the holiday depression from kicking my butt.
I swapped a couple surface text messages with my aunt and knew they were all celebrating Thanksgiving together as one big happy family.
Now I fully understand that even the most dysfunctional family can make themselves look good for a short time. But the idea of being the only one left out of it all was a bit more than I could stomach.
This is something I have been grieving for over five painful years. I would rather here nothing at all than tidbits. I would rather live with what I assume than what I know. Reality and truth is just too hard and avoidance is how I cope.
I hope the level of difficulty I'm having getting through Thanksgiving isn't a foreshadowing of what Christmas will bring.
Wednesday, November 21, 2012
What a Difference a Day Makes
Last night excitement filled our house, as did the many suitcases laying around. We were all smiles and laughter as we packed for our long awaited vacation to New Orleans and week long cruise. What a difference a day makes. Tonight the air is somber as we continue to pack.
You see, we had to cancel all of our travel plans today. Non-refundable, refundable, it didn't matter. It all had to be canceled.
My husband left work this morning to deliver the bad news to me in person. He had been told he needed to cancel his vacation with no forecasting of when we could reschedule.
To say I was angry, crushed, sickened, would probably all be accurate. Now, I'm realistic enough to admit this isn't the end of the world. There are far worse reasons to have to cancel a vacation, which I'm glad weren't the case for us. But I'm definitely unhappy!
We chose to forgo a summer vacation to have an extended vacation this fall. We had made all the preparations and had only packing left to do. If the news had come only 7 hours later, we'd already have officially been on vacation and it wouldn't have mattered.
I'm frustrated more for my husband. He works hard and works a lot. The man has 3 jobs. Weekend trips or shorter vacation are always interrupted by one or more of the jobs. Literally, leaving the country on a boat without cell or email availability is the only time he ever gets a break. He rarely gets excited about anything, but he was excited to be rested.
He works 3 jobs!!!! The uninterrupted quality time we get to spend together is precious and rare. I wanted and needed this vacation to have some quality time with him.
Ok, I needed it for me too. I may not have a job, but I have other stresses in everyday life and the activities I choose to participate regularly. I needed that break away too, for my own sanity.
Here is an interesting factoid....Out of all of our vacations, we have never been to New Orleans. We had a cruise scheduled to leave New Orleans on October 2, 2005. That was exactly 35 days after hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, causing our trip to be moved to Galveston.
I have to wonder if there is a good reason why we shouldn't visit New Orleans.
Needless-to-say, we will be taking full advantage of the offer from my husband's company to make this right. When I get to a point when I'm not so disappointed and just plain pissed off, maybe I'll be excited about planning our vacation again. But it's just a little soon for that....so off to pack for Branson I go.
You see, we had to cancel all of our travel plans today. Non-refundable, refundable, it didn't matter. It all had to be canceled.
My husband left work this morning to deliver the bad news to me in person. He had been told he needed to cancel his vacation with no forecasting of when we could reschedule.
To say I was angry, crushed, sickened, would probably all be accurate. Now, I'm realistic enough to admit this isn't the end of the world. There are far worse reasons to have to cancel a vacation, which I'm glad weren't the case for us. But I'm definitely unhappy!
We chose to forgo a summer vacation to have an extended vacation this fall. We had made all the preparations and had only packing left to do. If the news had come only 7 hours later, we'd already have officially been on vacation and it wouldn't have mattered.
I'm frustrated more for my husband. He works hard and works a lot. The man has 3 jobs. Weekend trips or shorter vacation are always interrupted by one or more of the jobs. Literally, leaving the country on a boat without cell or email availability is the only time he ever gets a break. He rarely gets excited about anything, but he was excited to be rested.
He works 3 jobs!!!! The uninterrupted quality time we get to spend together is precious and rare. I wanted and needed this vacation to have some quality time with him.
Ok, I needed it for me too. I may not have a job, but I have other stresses in everyday life and the activities I choose to participate regularly. I needed that break away too, for my own sanity.
Here is an interesting factoid....Out of all of our vacations, we have never been to New Orleans. We had a cruise scheduled to leave New Orleans on October 2, 2005. That was exactly 35 days after hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans, causing our trip to be moved to Galveston.
I have to wonder if there is a good reason why we shouldn't visit New Orleans.
Needless-to-say, we will be taking full advantage of the offer from my husband's company to make this right. When I get to a point when I'm not so disappointed and just plain pissed off, maybe I'll be excited about planning our vacation again. But it's just a little soon for that....so off to pack for Branson I go.
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
Vacation
Yes, it's true...I must put my husband on a boat in the middle of the Carribean without a telephone and computer for him to take a solid week off. Hopefully in a couple weeks I'll be able to share photos of a restful vacation, white sandy beaches and lots of fun for us.
Friday, November 16, 2012
Custard Pie
Sorry to disappoint, but this isn't going to be a recipe blog post.
I cannot believe that Thanksgiving is next week and we have barrelled through another whole calendar year. It really isn't that I didn't know it was coming, it's that I have been wishing it away. Begging for time to slow down. I could feel it coming, felt it in my soul.
Maybe it would surprise you to know that even the most dysfunctional families have traditions. I'm not even talking about some sick twisted take on some average families' tradition.
My filthy-mouthed, pornography-loving, run-around-the-house-naked, pee-off-the-front-porch, cigar-smoking grandma was the one who carried out the most traditions in my family. And, believe it or not, she was most traditional at Thanksgiving.
I must add a disclaimer in here. The whole thing was still covered with the blanket of dysfunction.
However, it was literally one of the more normal things that would ever happen in my family. Only now, as an adult, can I pick it apart and see the many layers of dysfunction that were still woven into what looked like a wholesome family tradition.
She made the entire spread herself and would start days in advance. There were several women in the family besides her. I had two aunts and, of course, my mom. What the heck? Not once do I remember any of them ever lifting a finger to help with anything. I do remember my parents supplying the ham or turkey because their employers would give them one. It probably won't be too surprising to learn that my aunts and mom were not only extremely lazy women, they had little to no ability in the kitchen. Oh yea, and some of them were drunk all the time. (For any of you who have eaten my cooking, rest assured my skills did not come from this side of the family.)
So, my grandma made it all. She hand made noodles and they were always bright yellow. Why? Because she always added yellow food coloring. Why? I don't know! I wouldn't even know that was wrong or not needed until I tried to make noodles after I was married and my new husband questioned what I was doing.
She made everything by hand, literally by one hand. The other hand always had to be free and clean for her smokes. She was definitely the epitome of the old lady you see on tv smoking over every dish they ever cook or eat. Eww!!!!!!! When you grow up with a family of smokers, you don't think much of it. Now, there's no way I'd purposely eat anything made by someone cooking like that. No more ash ingestion for me, thank you very much!
Eating her ham and turkey was the reason I never liked ham and always ate dark meat from the turkey until recently. (I still can't eat ham, but because the preservatives wreak havoc on my body.) Now, as an adult, I understand that most hams are already smoked and need little cooking or baking to finish them. Before she would put the ham in the oven to bake for 5 hours, she would cover it in salt. Ick!!! Ham does not need to be salted.
I think it is Christmas Vacation that has a scene where they are about to cut into the turkey and it pops open with a cloud of dust. Well, that might be a little extreme in describing her turkey, but not by much. A giant, 20+ lb bird would yield about 3 cups of meat or less. It was so dry, she would serve it with butter. I wish I were joking. She would let the bird set in one side of the zink (that's what she called the sink) for a couple days before Thanksgiving. She would get up at 3 am on Thanksgiving morning and pop the bird in the oven. She would pull it out at about 1 pm. No seasoning, no basting. She baked it for over 9 hours, no wonder it was super dry! Wow!
She made all the pies too. She would make lots of pumpkin, which she always over-baked. It wasn't until I started baking that I realized you could have a fully cooked pumpkin pie without a long crack in the center. She made chocolate and banana meringue. I've still got to respect that, they were perfect and something I can't do well. But my favorite was custard pie.
Honestly, I've not had any custard pie since the last Thanksgiving my grandma was alive. It's not a pie that you find very often and I've only seen in one or two grocery stores. It's the one thing though that always reminds me of the tradition and not the dysfunction. I'm not sure why, it just does. The thought of it alone is like the ultimate comfort food.
Unfortunately with my lazy mom and drunk aunt and aunt that moved away from the dysfunction, all of the tradition died with my grandma. There's been no Thanksgiving tradition since 1997.
Don't get me wrong, the holiday was still incredibly difficult despite the meager traditions. There was never a lack of people fighting in the family. And, of course, never a lack of traumatic experiences caused by my dad. But, I miss the tradition.
I often get pushed further into my holiday depression by seeing everyone around me so steeped in their own family traditions. It isn't that they aren't dysfunctional. It isn't that I am jealous. It's that so deep in my heart and soul is buried that longing to belong to a family. Really, it's my God given desire to stand shoulder to shoulder with loving people while the rest of the world is doing the same thing. Sadly, it's the foundation that traditions are formed on that my heart so longs for and I realize that I never, ever had.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
I Want His Faith
As is sometimes the case, I can't share all of the details but have a story that begs to be told.
About a month ago with a prompting I can only attribute to the Holy Spirit, I delivered a meal to a church member who lives alone. I knew some of his story and knew he was living alone on a limited budget, as was his brother with disabilities.
I called him to let him know my husband and I would be bringing some leftovers from our weekly meal at church. He was extremely thankful.
As I packed the meal up, I found milk that we had no use for before it expired. I found bags and bags and bags full of spaghetti, garlic bread, pulled pork, fried chicken. None of it could be used and we were running out of freezer space. I found lettuce and tomatoes that would spoil before we could use them. I loaded it all up.
We stopped by our house. Since we buy things in bulk, I had several cases of beans, soups, pasta, etc. laying in the kitchen from the trip we'd made the night before to Costco. I loaded up a couple bags of miscellaneous items and grabbed some homemade loaves of bread from the freezer. By the time we arrived with a meal, we had no less than 7 bags of food and a gallon of milk.
He met us at the truck and was overjoyed by what we had brought. But it's not what we did for him that is so wonderful and humbling. It was what happened next, it's what he did for me. In fact, we had really done nothing compared to what was needed.
As we carried the food into the apartment, it was eerily dark and empty. A lamp without a shade and a stove light is all that lit the apartment. There was one chair and an air mattress in the bedroom. The cabinets, fridge and freezer were nearly empty.
On the stove was a small pot of macaroni cooking. Through some discussion, I learned it was the only meal he would eat that day. His son, who was visiting, was elated to have milk to use in the mac and cheese instead of just water.
Because of the way I grew up, I know what it's like to live without food and without many things. But, I'm certain that I was never as happy as this guy. He never complained. He was happy with all he did have and had hope things would improve. He has no vacuum and even wiped his feet in the hall so he didn't track in dirt because he wanted to keep his apartment nice.
We've continued to take food to this man and his brother. I've been happy to do it. I know regardless of who has upset me or what turmoil my life is in, this man is going to minister to my broken little heart in ways he could never know or understand.
I've been hurt so many times inside the walls of the church, I'm a bit cynical about Christians and Christianity. I'm often carrying around some current hurt or stress with church or fellow Christians. I'm usually wrestling in my gut whether with what I truly believe. But every time I drop off food to this man, I see an unbelievable faith.
He's thankful for what most people take for granted. There is a sense of gratitude that is amazing. Most people would turn their nose up at leftovers or 2 day old salad. Not this guy. If you saw the weekly exchange, you'd think I was some kind of food fairy. He's so incredibly grateful for anything he is given.
And I meant it, he has incredible faith. It's the kind that when you hear it, you might think he's a little crazy. He is content to wait on God. He is submissive to God in ways most people spend their entire lives striving to be. He trusts God to provide everything. He prays with expectation that God will answer all prayers, even if it isn't the answer or timing he would choose.
Wrap your head around that! Somebody with absolutely nothing is living out his faith in the most obvious way I've ever seen.
Here's the truly humbling part of this, the part that is beautiful.....
Each week after he thanks me over and over, he always says, "I'll be praying for you."
Me?
Comparatively, on the surface, in all physical things, I have everything compared to this man. I have a warm house with lots of lights and two giant tvs. My fridge, freezer and cabinets are packed full of things.
I'm ashamed to admit, the first night I walked away thinking exactly this, "Sitting in your cold, dark apartment in your ratty, lonely chair, you are going to pray for me? You need to be praying for yourself. You have nothing and I have everything. Don't waste a moment praying for me, pray for yourself."
Oh my goodness...
I was so wrong. He really has everything and I have nothing. I don't have that kind of faith. I don't have that confident relationship with Christ. He may have been hungry, but I was the one starving.
The idea that this person who has such strong faith would take time to pray for me, well what more could I ask for. I don't know what or how he prays for me, I just know he tells me every week he is praying for me. What I do know is that he prays with an expectation and confidence that God is hearing his prayers for me.
As crazy as it sounds, I want what he has.
I want that kind of faith.
About a month ago with a prompting I can only attribute to the Holy Spirit, I delivered a meal to a church member who lives alone. I knew some of his story and knew he was living alone on a limited budget, as was his brother with disabilities.
I called him to let him know my husband and I would be bringing some leftovers from our weekly meal at church. He was extremely thankful.
As I packed the meal up, I found milk that we had no use for before it expired. I found bags and bags and bags full of spaghetti, garlic bread, pulled pork, fried chicken. None of it could be used and we were running out of freezer space. I found lettuce and tomatoes that would spoil before we could use them. I loaded it all up.
We stopped by our house. Since we buy things in bulk, I had several cases of beans, soups, pasta, etc. laying in the kitchen from the trip we'd made the night before to Costco. I loaded up a couple bags of miscellaneous items and grabbed some homemade loaves of bread from the freezer. By the time we arrived with a meal, we had no less than 7 bags of food and a gallon of milk.
He met us at the truck and was overjoyed by what we had brought. But it's not what we did for him that is so wonderful and humbling. It was what happened next, it's what he did for me. In fact, we had really done nothing compared to what was needed.
As we carried the food into the apartment, it was eerily dark and empty. A lamp without a shade and a stove light is all that lit the apartment. There was one chair and an air mattress in the bedroom. The cabinets, fridge and freezer were nearly empty.
On the stove was a small pot of macaroni cooking. Through some discussion, I learned it was the only meal he would eat that day. His son, who was visiting, was elated to have milk to use in the mac and cheese instead of just water.
Because of the way I grew up, I know what it's like to live without food and without many things. But, I'm certain that I was never as happy as this guy. He never complained. He was happy with all he did have and had hope things would improve. He has no vacuum and even wiped his feet in the hall so he didn't track in dirt because he wanted to keep his apartment nice.
We've continued to take food to this man and his brother. I've been happy to do it. I know regardless of who has upset me or what turmoil my life is in, this man is going to minister to my broken little heart in ways he could never know or understand.
I've been hurt so many times inside the walls of the church, I'm a bit cynical about Christians and Christianity. I'm often carrying around some current hurt or stress with church or fellow Christians. I'm usually wrestling in my gut whether with what I truly believe. But every time I drop off food to this man, I see an unbelievable faith.
He's thankful for what most people take for granted. There is a sense of gratitude that is amazing. Most people would turn their nose up at leftovers or 2 day old salad. Not this guy. If you saw the weekly exchange, you'd think I was some kind of food fairy. He's so incredibly grateful for anything he is given.
And I meant it, he has incredible faith. It's the kind that when you hear it, you might think he's a little crazy. He is content to wait on God. He is submissive to God in ways most people spend their entire lives striving to be. He trusts God to provide everything. He prays with expectation that God will answer all prayers, even if it isn't the answer or timing he would choose.
Wrap your head around that! Somebody with absolutely nothing is living out his faith in the most obvious way I've ever seen.
Here's the truly humbling part of this, the part that is beautiful.....
Each week after he thanks me over and over, he always says, "I'll be praying for you."
Me?
Comparatively, on the surface, in all physical things, I have everything compared to this man. I have a warm house with lots of lights and two giant tvs. My fridge, freezer and cabinets are packed full of things.
I'm ashamed to admit, the first night I walked away thinking exactly this, "Sitting in your cold, dark apartment in your ratty, lonely chair, you are going to pray for me? You need to be praying for yourself. You have nothing and I have everything. Don't waste a moment praying for me, pray for yourself."
Oh my goodness...
I was so wrong. He really has everything and I have nothing. I don't have that kind of faith. I don't have that confident relationship with Christ. He may have been hungry, but I was the one starving.
The idea that this person who has such strong faith would take time to pray for me, well what more could I ask for. I don't know what or how he prays for me, I just know he tells me every week he is praying for me. What I do know is that he prays with an expectation and confidence that God is hearing his prayers for me.
As crazy as it sounds, I want what he has.
I want that kind of faith.
Sunday, November 4, 2012
Driving
I'm guessing most anyone reading this is also old enough to drive. I'm also guessing that it is something most people take for granted.
I know, it's an easy thing to do. I've said it before, but driving is one of the things I miss the most.
Not being able to drive when I want or need to leaves me feeling absolutely trapped most of the time.
It is sort of like being that age of almost old enough to drive and all of your friends are already driving. Or that time in life when all your friends had cars, but you hadn't gotten one yet.
So that I clear this up early for anyone who may not have read any previous comments about driving, I do know how to drive. I didn't lose my license for any reason, in fact I've never had so much as a speeding ticket. It is the disorder I deal with and chronic insomnia that prevent me from driving.
I'm feeling especially trapped lately by my inability to drive.
It isn't that I'm not appreciative of those who have helped me out at times by giving me rides different places. However, lately, I only have my husband and one other extremely busy person who help with any sort of consistency. I'm completely at their mercy, when and where is convenient for them.
I want to be able to go. I want to be able to do my grocery shopping at Trader Joe's, which nobody has time to take me to on any regular basis. I want to shop sales that fall only on one day of the week. I want to be able to go get my hair cut any time besides 8 pm. I want to not have to wait two weeks for allergy pills.
Honestly, I've had people think I am angry or emotional or just plain pissy at times. I'm telling you, a lot of it is related to this issue. It sucks not being able to go like everyone around you.
There are so many days that I do feel like that teenager again...."I just want to do what my friends are doing."
I know, it's an easy thing to do. I've said it before, but driving is one of the things I miss the most.
Not being able to drive when I want or need to leaves me feeling absolutely trapped most of the time.
It is sort of like being that age of almost old enough to drive and all of your friends are already driving. Or that time in life when all your friends had cars, but you hadn't gotten one yet.
So that I clear this up early for anyone who may not have read any previous comments about driving, I do know how to drive. I didn't lose my license for any reason, in fact I've never had so much as a speeding ticket. It is the disorder I deal with and chronic insomnia that prevent me from driving.
I'm feeling especially trapped lately by my inability to drive.
It isn't that I'm not appreciative of those who have helped me out at times by giving me rides different places. However, lately, I only have my husband and one other extremely busy person who help with any sort of consistency. I'm completely at their mercy, when and where is convenient for them.
I want to be able to go. I want to be able to do my grocery shopping at Trader Joe's, which nobody has time to take me to on any regular basis. I want to shop sales that fall only on one day of the week. I want to be able to go get my hair cut any time besides 8 pm. I want to not have to wait two weeks for allergy pills.
Honestly, I've had people think I am angry or emotional or just plain pissy at times. I'm telling you, a lot of it is related to this issue. It sucks not being able to go like everyone around you.
There are so many days that I do feel like that teenager again...."I just want to do what my friends are doing."
Friday, November 2, 2012
The Bestie
In a couple hours, one of my friends will be coming over to spend part of the afternoon with me. Not just any friend, but my best friend. My bestest bud. My closest confidant. My stabilizing force. My solid rock. My sounding board. My voice of reason.
Yes, there are a spattering of good things in my life and I do enjoy sharing those too.
This is Tina. In the friend world, she's my better half. Literally, we are complete opposites. And, true story, we've often been mistaken for sisters.
I met Tina during this time of year in 1998. She interviewed for the company I was working for and was offered the job. A couple years younger than me, she came in quiet and a bit mousy. If you'd known me back then, you'd have though no way we'd ever be friends. I was a tiny bit more ferocious and extremely uncomfortable with anyone quite so shy.
Newly married, transplants from small towns and without any children, we became fast friends. Our husbands' love of the WWF would allow us become a friendly group of four.
After a few years together in the marketing field, I'd leave for the big world of eye care. A few months later, I'd drag Tina right along with me. We worked at eye care together for nearly 10 years before my issues would force me into a permanent medical leave.
There's so much I could say about our relationship. We take care of each other's dogs. She's the one I call when I am in desperate need of something. She's the one I can say anything to without fear of judgement.
That's the broad summary of our relationship. But wait....there's so much more.
We've been through so much together.
Let me start with the natural stress working together will put on a relationship. At both companies, I was put into positions of management over Tina. It was difficult. I wasn't always kind or fair or the least bit good at managing someone who was also my friend. I tended to be harder on her and expect more of her because she was my friend. She handled it all with grace and love.
There were times when others targeted our relationship as a tool to hurt me. When people in a business are fearful of unity through relationships, they will go out of their way to be cruel and hurtful. We nearly let co-workers drive a wedge between us during what should have been the best of times. Thankfully, we didn't and became closer through it all.
Tina has been by my side through a lot of down times. She's waded through some gross stuff with me, stuff neither of us understood. She saw the ugliness of my disorder before we knew it was a disorder. She stuck by me through it all. Even though she doesn't really understand it now and I think it makes her a little nervous, she's never left me.
We've been through some difficult times at work outside of co-workers. It's hard to learn a trusted person in the office stole nearly a half million bucks. At a time that shattered everyone around us, we were able to stand together through it all.
She has been with me through the lowest of lows in my marriage too. The ugly, nasty messes I got myself into with my husband, she was right there. There was little she could do most of the time besides listen and that's what she did.
Through some of the more difficult times, there have been times of great joy. We have shared the joys of pregnancy during some of the same times. Even though mine ended in loss, I was able to be there after the birth of each one of her three children. Somehow, she managed to offer a sense of gentleness and sharing that never hurt.
Probably the most recent loss we've walked side by side through is her mom. Sure, there have been many along the way. But, her mom was the hardest. It's been a few years ago now, but still so fresh. Diagnosed with breast cancer at the beginning of the month and passing by the end of the month, there was little time for her to fully grasp the loss until long after. This was probably the only time I ever saw her vulnerable and weak. I'm not sure I offered her much during this time beyond giving her space to grieve, but I know she knew my heart was breaking for her.
It's been more difficult to spend time together now that we don't work together. I don't see her near as much as I used to, but that's not put any distance between us. In fact, she's not working full time now either. That makes the time we spend together more intentional and valued.
When we spend time together, it's because we want to. It may only be once a month or every 6 weeks, but it's always a good time. Whether we go shopping or out to lunch or just hang out, it's always worth the wait.
Sometimes I forget there's someone (besides my husband) who's been in my life for so long....14 years. I often forget that there's someone with no obligation to me who loves me and has for years. She's loved me through the good, bad and ugly...REALLY UGLY. How thankful I am for her. I love her dearly and hope she always knows how much I treasure her friendship.
Yes, there are a spattering of good things in my life and I do enjoy sharing those too.
I met Tina during this time of year in 1998. She interviewed for the company I was working for and was offered the job. A couple years younger than me, she came in quiet and a bit mousy. If you'd known me back then, you'd have though no way we'd ever be friends. I was a tiny bit more ferocious and extremely uncomfortable with anyone quite so shy.
Newly married, transplants from small towns and without any children, we became fast friends. Our husbands' love of the WWF would allow us become a friendly group of four.
There's so much I could say about our relationship. We take care of each other's dogs. She's the one I call when I am in desperate need of something. She's the one I can say anything to without fear of judgement.
That's the broad summary of our relationship. But wait....there's so much more.
We've been through so much together.
Let me start with the natural stress working together will put on a relationship. At both companies, I was put into positions of management over Tina. It was difficult. I wasn't always kind or fair or the least bit good at managing someone who was also my friend. I tended to be harder on her and expect more of her because she was my friend. She handled it all with grace and love.
There were times when others targeted our relationship as a tool to hurt me. When people in a business are fearful of unity through relationships, they will go out of their way to be cruel and hurtful. We nearly let co-workers drive a wedge between us during what should have been the best of times. Thankfully, we didn't and became closer through it all.
Tina has been by my side through a lot of down times. She's waded through some gross stuff with me, stuff neither of us understood. She saw the ugliness of my disorder before we knew it was a disorder. She stuck by me through it all. Even though she doesn't really understand it now and I think it makes her a little nervous, she's never left me.
We've been through some difficult times at work outside of co-workers. It's hard to learn a trusted person in the office stole nearly a half million bucks. At a time that shattered everyone around us, we were able to stand together through it all.
She has been with me through the lowest of lows in my marriage too. The ugly, nasty messes I got myself into with my husband, she was right there. There was little she could do most of the time besides listen and that's what she did.
Through some of the more difficult times, there have been times of great joy. We have shared the joys of pregnancy during some of the same times. Even though mine ended in loss, I was able to be there after the birth of each one of her three children. Somehow, she managed to offer a sense of gentleness and sharing that never hurt.
Probably the most recent loss we've walked side by side through is her mom. Sure, there have been many along the way. But, her mom was the hardest. It's been a few years ago now, but still so fresh. Diagnosed with breast cancer at the beginning of the month and passing by the end of the month, there was little time for her to fully grasp the loss until long after. This was probably the only time I ever saw her vulnerable and weak. I'm not sure I offered her much during this time beyond giving her space to grieve, but I know she knew my heart was breaking for her.
It's been more difficult to spend time together now that we don't work together. I don't see her near as much as I used to, but that's not put any distance between us. In fact, she's not working full time now either. That makes the time we spend together more intentional and valued.
When we spend time together, it's because we want to. It may only be once a month or every 6 weeks, but it's always a good time. Whether we go shopping or out to lunch or just hang out, it's always worth the wait.
Sometimes I forget there's someone (besides my husband) who's been in my life for so long....14 years. I often forget that there's someone with no obligation to me who loves me and has for years. She's loved me through the good, bad and ugly...REALLY UGLY. How thankful I am for her. I love her dearly and hope she always knows how much I treasure her friendship.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Understanding the Little Things
As you might imagine, I have many little things in my life that make me feel "different." Part of changing those little things is learning exactly what has caused it.
And, usually a mixed bag when I do figure it out. It becomes a work in progress, but I'm always saddened by the reason.
Recently, either my pants have begun to get larger or with no effort by me my waist has been getting a tiny bit smaller. Regardless, I have been finding myself constantly pulling up my pants that fit two months ago.
It would seem the problem could be easily remedied by using a belt. However, nothing ever goes quite that easy with me.
I've never worn belts. Always bought pants just tight enough to not have to mess with them. If a pair of pants didn't fit, I bought a different pair. Having only gotten to wear some of these jeans a few times, there was no way I was going to replace them already.
So, I grabbed my belt out of the closet and looped it through my pants. Simple enough.
Within minutes, I had completely changed clothes. I tried again the next day, no luck. After a few minutes of having the belt on, I was so angry that I had to change clothes.
By the third day, I had to think through exactly why I was uncomfortable and angered by the belt.
The switch flipped on for me and over 20 years of refusing to wear a belt made sense to me.
A belt was a weapon used against me. For years and years and years, belts were used to beat me, tie me to objects and nearly choke the life out of me.
It seems like a fairly obvious thing, but it took me a long time to figure it out. Literally how I have dressed for 20+ years has been altered by this.
Abuse definitely leaves scars that sink deep, deep into your heart, mind and soul. But I'm always amazed out how the simplest of things in life are forever altered by it.
Putting on a belt is something people do everyday without thinking about it for a second. My husband does too. Probably the most pressing thought in his mind as he puts on a belt is whether it needs to be black or brown. I on the other hand cannot wear one at all because subconsciously it throws be back through warp of traumatic events in my life.
Understanding doesn't immediately fix the problem and unfortunately I have a lot of work to do in front of this one. However, someday maybe I'll be able to wear a belt.
And, usually a mixed bag when I do figure it out. It becomes a work in progress, but I'm always saddened by the reason.
Recently, either my pants have begun to get larger or with no effort by me my waist has been getting a tiny bit smaller. Regardless, I have been finding myself constantly pulling up my pants that fit two months ago.
It would seem the problem could be easily remedied by using a belt. However, nothing ever goes quite that easy with me.
I've never worn belts. Always bought pants just tight enough to not have to mess with them. If a pair of pants didn't fit, I bought a different pair. Having only gotten to wear some of these jeans a few times, there was no way I was going to replace them already.
So, I grabbed my belt out of the closet and looped it through my pants. Simple enough.
Within minutes, I had completely changed clothes. I tried again the next day, no luck. After a few minutes of having the belt on, I was so angry that I had to change clothes.
By the third day, I had to think through exactly why I was uncomfortable and angered by the belt.
The switch flipped on for me and over 20 years of refusing to wear a belt made sense to me.
A belt was a weapon used against me. For years and years and years, belts were used to beat me, tie me to objects and nearly choke the life out of me.
It seems like a fairly obvious thing, but it took me a long time to figure it out. Literally how I have dressed for 20+ years has been altered by this.
Abuse definitely leaves scars that sink deep, deep into your heart, mind and soul. But I'm always amazed out how the simplest of things in life are forever altered by it.
Putting on a belt is something people do everyday without thinking about it for a second. My husband does too. Probably the most pressing thought in his mind as he puts on a belt is whether it needs to be black or brown. I on the other hand cannot wear one at all because subconsciously it throws be back through warp of traumatic events in my life.
Understanding doesn't immediately fix the problem and unfortunately I have a lot of work to do in front of this one. However, someday maybe I'll be able to wear a belt.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)