Computer, Gold, Glasses

Remember those three words...computer, gold, glasses.

In February, I had the opportunity to go to a neurology appointment with my mother-in-law for the first time.  Yes, it's taken a month to be able to discuss that day without extreme emotion.

We went down the night before to avoid having to get up at 5 am the next day.  By the time we got there, she was in bed.  That's noteworthy, because she has gotten into a pattern of going to bed early, sleeping late and napping a good portion of her day.

With her in bed, we were given a rare chance to talk with my father-in-law alone.  During the conversation, he pulled out a newspaper article that was given to him by his daughter.  The article talks about how hydrocephalus being misdiagnosed as dementia.  I tried to read the article objectively, but found no connection between her symptoms and what was listed.  The connection I did make was this steadfast denial that seems to be plaguing the family. 

I let them know I didn't see the connection.  I could tell he was getting a little frustrated with me, while my husband sat silent.  Each conversation led to the same conclusion...he was waiting for someone to "fix" her or make her better.  She has a consultation coming up next month at the KU Memory Clinic and he doesn't want to make any changed in anything until they evaluate her.  He's waiting for them to solve the problem. 

He began complaining about her sleeping the days away and not doing the things she used to do.  He pointed to a cobweb and let us know that you used to not see them.  It took all I had to not lose it on him.  My declining respect for him and my weariness with his denial made it almost impossible to suck those words "maybe you should get off your ass and clean this house yourself instead of going and hiding in your shop" back into my mouth.

Needless to say, I finally gave up on the conversation and headed to bed.

The next day, I woke up to a raised voice coming from the kitchen.  Even though it was still two hours until her appointment, she was dressed with coat and all and pacing the house.  He was already frustrated.  As I headed to the shower, I heard him say "all she does is sleep" to my husband.  I'm guessing she traded pacing for a nap.

If you've never been around someone with a later in life onset of mental incapacity, it's important to understand that they are constantly confused.  They don't know what to do with themselves physically because their minds can no longer communicate and process that information.  It's not uncommon for them to be depressed or sleep a lot because they don't know what else to do with themselves.

While I waited for the appointment, I continued to watch her pace the house and his frustration grow.  At one point, she opened the front door and headed out to the street.  There wasn't anything out there for her and it was cold.  He headed out after her and brought her back into the house.  With a raised voice, he told her to go find something to do. 

During the time I observed, I saw other disturbing behavior.  In an hour, she brushed and curled her hair four times and wet her pants once. 

So, off to the appointment we would go.  We were seeing a neurologist who comes to her regular doctors office.  Walking into the office must have been completely unfamiliar to her because she was lost.  She had to be told what to do each step of the way.  Thankfully, we did not have to wait long.

In the office, the doctor asked her several questions.  She relied heavily on her husband to find the answers.  Without his help, she would have failed miserably to answer any of the questions.  He also gave her the three words that I gave you at the beginning of this post.  Remember what they were?  Can you remember them without scrolling back up and looking? 

She couldn't remember one of them.  There was a computer sitting in front of her and she was wearing gold glasses.  This is one of the tests they use to gauge her memory function. 

The doctor was decent, which surprised me.  Sometimes in small towns, you get what you get and that may or may not be good.  The poor guy definitely has his work cut out for him when trying to communicate with my in laws.  I typically don't think of them as under educated hicks, but they certainly acted that way during this appointment.

They interrupted him with their half-brained ideas of why she had memory loss.  They've been seeing this doctor for over a year.  They suggested that a possible clogged vein near the kidneys, her retirement, her blood pressure, and probably a few others.  The doctor was so gracious to sit there and listen without discouraging them.

They did discuss the amount of sleeping.  He asked about depression, which they both denied.  He asked about routine, which they both acted like they had never heard before.  In fact, he has counseled them many times on keeping her in a routine. 

Probably the most discouraging, yet honest, thing he said was that he does not believe her consult at KU is going to result in anything new that he has not already tried or said.  That's just honest, but not what they wanted to hear.

We, meaning my husband and I, did get a chance to discuss care for both of them with the doctor.  It is completely beyond me why it has taken over a year for anyone in the family to ask these questions.  We talked to him about depression, suggesting that they both might benefit from a mental health evaluation.  We asked for a referral for a support group.  We asked about probability of home health care to assist with meds and daily care. 

It was a surprise to me, that they had been offered home health care previously and turned them down.

The ride home was unpleasant.  It was a lot of heated discussion, mostly him telling her what she should be doing.  Hello....she's not going to remember that. 

Once we got out of the van, we were informed that he didn't need any help and there was no way he would allow a home health aid to come in his house.  A home health aid once worked with his brother who had one arm and a balance problem.  They had him remove all his rugs so he could not trip on them as he was unsteady.  Therefore, a home health aid cannot come into their home because they will obviously force them to remove rugs.  Jeez Louis...there's only 3 rugs in the entire house. 

I'm not going to go into the details of our personal conversations, but I can tell you that it was quite contentious between my husband and I all weekend long. 

I'll probably never be allowed to go to another doctor's appointment again.  It's sad.  I say this with no ego involved, but I'm probably the only person in the entire family who can understand medical terms or who has a clue what benefits maybe available.

Sadly and most unfortunately, nothing has come of the appointment.  No referral.  No support group.  No change in anti-depressant.  It was informative for me to make the trip.  It was heart-wrenching for me to see the denial.  It was disheartening for me to see the growing problem and know I, as an inlaw, have absolutely no input on this situation. 

I suppose I should be thankful to step back and say it's not my problem, but I'm just not that way.

Goodbye, Kirby

Three years ago, we went on a search that took several months to find a white kitten.  We were trying to fulfill and rectify another disaster from my childhood.  I'll spare you the graphic details, but pets (specifically cats) were used as objects to torture and torment me as a child.  If you'd like to know more of the story behind that, you'll have to look back in the archives. 

In summer of 2010, my husband returned from a trip to his parent's house with a tiny, white kitten.

He was perfect.  Pure white.  Big blue eyes.  Soft and cuddly.

Kirby became a member of our little 4-legged family quickly.  He spent his evenings cuddled with me and the daytime cuddled with his friend, Soffee. 

At 4 months old, we had his claws removed.  I know that seems cruel to many people.  However, it was obvious that his razor sharp digits were going to cause the other pets to bleed and us to replace lots of furniture and bedding. 

From then on, he only grew bigger and bigger and more a part of us.

 

Today, the house seems a little less full.  No, Kirby didn't die.  Kirby has been relocated to a new home. 

Sadly, Kirby didn't do anything to deserve the change of scenery.  Although, the family who adopted him is completely in love with him.  They have an autistic 6-year-old daughter who finds petting him very calming.  Honestly, I couldn't be happier for him and them.  He will love that kind of attention.

I'm sad for us.  I'm sad for my dogs, who've been searching for him since we walked out the door with him last night. 

Kirby's relocation was a difficult decision that I (my husband wasn't for this) had to make.  He was so loving and cuddly, that he wasn't afraid to act out if he was attention deprived.  Unfortunately, his form of acting out came in the form of urinating on things and places he should not.  It was mostly on the pet beds, clothing, our bed and miscellaneous items.

It's not an excuse, but I'm sure most people can relate in other ways.  With three dogs, a cat and a husband that's gone a lot, I just didn't have the availability to give him the attention he desired.  I know what some of you are thinking, that's no reason to give him away.   You wouldn't give away a kid if you didn't have time to pay attention to it, would you?   You wouldn't toss a kid out for urinating on your bed, would you?  Thankfully this is one time when I'll agree with the majority and say, pets are NOT children. 

Please don't think I'm being callus or cold about this, it is difficult for me.  That cat made me smile.  He was cute and added something to my life which could not have come from another source.  He made me laugh.

When I got up in the mornings, he would crawl into the covers and sleep until I made the bed.

 

He always knew when we were getting ready to travel and would crawl into our bags.

He was probably more interested in my husband's work than I am.  He would sit on his laptop, literally.  He'd intently watch the screen when my husband would run programs.

 

He would sleep in the strangest positions, but always with another one of the pets.

On the checklist, all the marks were in the pro column except one.  The urinating thing was just too big for me. 

It was two years ago this month that we replaced the majority of our furniture.  We followed that by ripping out all of the carpet in our house and going to hardwood floors.  The reason...urine.

Again, I'll spare you the nasty, graphic details.  All of our carpet and furniture had been urinated on and probably not in the ways you would expect (unless of course you've read enough of this blog to know just how jacked up my life has been).

Anyway, we've managed to keep the furniture clean and urine free.  An awesome mattress cover has kept our bed from bearing any damage.  However, yesterday, Kirby was positioning himself to urinate on the couch when I caught him.  In all fairness, I'd given him a 2nd, 3rd, 10th, 20th, chance.

Not angrily, but matter of factly, I had to make the decision to pursue a new home for him.  We don't have the funds to purchase new furniture every time the smell gets bad.  I don't have the ability to not collapse mentally and emotionally with the constant smell of urine. 

Isn't it funny how my past drove us to get Kirby and relocate him?

With the emptiness in the house, I am a little bitter.  I couldn't have made any other decision, but I had that it was ever necessary.  I'd rather have gotten up this morning to see the face of my sweet Kirby laying at my feet.

 

Snail

I know, it's a really ugly picture.  But that is my life right now.  It's a little icky and really ugly.

My house is my shell right now.  It's the one place where I'm safe and protected.  The weather has been bad, but I haven't been out of the house much since the end of January.  Most days pass by without me so much as taking a step out the door.  Right or wrong, I'm able to drive right now.  That hasn't even been much of a motivation to leave the house.

Sure, the house is warm and cozy.  Yet, that's not why I stay.  I can't seem to force myself into social settings.  The idea of being in large groups of people seems painful and beyond my tolerance level.  Even being around a very small group of people sends me into a panic of trying to find an exit. 

It's been so easy for me to completely withdraw from people and life.  It's been too easy to spend most days laying on my bed staring at the wall.  It's safer there.  The phone doesn't ring, doesn't make much noise at all.  Not much interrupts my daily routine of curling up in my shell.

There isn't anything big that's happened recently.  That isn't to say that I've ever gotten over some of the bigger hurts of the past few years, because I don't think I ever will. 

There have been a lot of small things that have piled up and maybe that's driven me back into my shell.  Lots of small hurts with lack of acknowledgement.  Lots of disappointment, usually in the lack of communication or help from those who've said they care.  (disclaimer:  that doesn't apply to everyone)

What's even uglier is that the weight of it all has the potential to crush my shell.  Yes, my days and days of being all alone because that feels safer has great potential to backfire on me.  Sadly, I can't survive either way.  Neither is good for me.  I'm willing to wait it out until someone crushes my shell or I lose my sanity.

The Bridge

After almost a month of being on vacation and then being sick with one virus after another, I'm finally getting back to normal.

This past month has been full and there is so much to share.

Yesterday was Valentine's day and the first one since meeting my husband that I have been alone.  Sure we spent some time on Facetime, but it wasn't the same.  Missing him yesterday made me think back to a special time we had on our vacation.

See the exhausted look on my face and the wooden slats behind me?

Those wooden slats were part of this bridge held together with only rope.

The rope bridge is about 500 feet long and hung about 20 feet above a river of turtles and alligators.  Yes, I said alligators.

Anybody who knows me knows that I have a HUGE fear of anything high.  What you might not know is that I had an incredibly traumatic experience on a 5 foot rope bridge as a kid.  Those two things together made for an interesting trek across the bridge. 

The bridge was mostly dry, but had sections that were mossy, wet and slick.  The slats were rickety with open space between them. 

We were in a jungle/flower/wildlife park in Honduras during vacation.  Nearly everyone on our tour walked across without fear before me.  Watching them go across without fear or problem gave me just the boost I needed to even attempt the trek.

First step onto the bridge, I looked down through the space between slats and saw the eerie eyeballs floating through the water.  I wonder now if the eye contact with the alligator somehow gave him a false sense of hope that his lunch was hovering above him.

With the second step, I quickly decided there would have to be no more looking down if I would successfully make the next 498 steps.  Grabbing hold of the ropes, I made my way across the bridge. 

Midway through, the bridge started rocking from side to side and the slats moved in a wave back and forth.  As I started to panic, I heard my husband behind me. 

As much as I love my husband, he is normally a "get it done and get over it" kind of person and usually with an abrupt tone.

But the voice, the words, he was encouraging me.  I heard him saying to me that I was doing fine, doing great as he told me to keep going.  He was exactly what and how I needed him to be at that very moment.  I was in full-blown panic mode that could have easily gone terribly wrong.  But he calmed me down and got me the rest of the way across the bridge.

I absolutely, completely fell in love with him all over again in that five minutes. 

In addition, I learned something about both of us that day.  I can overcome even my biggest fear when I have the right person behind me.  He can absolutely step outside his comfort zone to be the encouraging, loving husband. 

Vacation 2012 #3

Today was wonderfully relaxing.  Today was a day spent mostly outside the car and not in it.

We tried this little place for lunch called the Mosquito Cafe.  I had an amazing turkey divinity.  It was carved turkey, bacon, melted brie, garlic mayo and red lettuce on a hoagie.  My side was supposed to be potato salad.  It was by far the most interesting potato salad I've ever tasted.  It was a combination of potato, pasta and coleslaw salads.  It was fabulous.  Kent had turkey chili that he didn't seem too thrilled about. 

After lunch, we walked over to a little bakery and got some sweet treats. 

With a full tummy, I decided to take a long afternoon nap which I clearly needed.  There was something so relaxing about curling up under the covers while the cool ocean breeze rolled through room.

This evening, we took a sunset walk on the beach.  I understand why people think it's so romantic to walk on the beach.  We watched the sun go down and the waves crash against the sand.  A few people were flying kites and we picked up a couple shells.  We took a drive along the seawall and watched both cruise ships take off. 

After dinner, we came back to the room and finished getting our bags ready for the cruise. 

It'll be over a week before I update again.  It's been over 2 years since either of us got totally unplugged from our electronic devices.

It's crazy how much time we spend using cell phones, ipads, computers, etc.  Now the ipads are going with us to read books, listen to music, etc.  But, we won't be online or using cell phones for an entire week.  I'm so thankful for that and yet, I'm completely freaked out by it. 

Regardless, we'll be setting sail in less than a day and I'm ready for the time away!

Vacation 2012 #2

Again, I was so wiped out that I didn't even think about a computer yesterday. 

We visited the George Bush Presidential Library in College Station, TX.  I couldn't believe the number of things he was involved in that I'd already forgotten.  The first gulf war, DNA research, CIA, etc.  Until you sit and listen to the family history, I think the rich political history of the Bush family eludes you.  Their influences go back many decades.  Outside of politics, our first president Bush was an outstanding business man who had seen war first hand.  In fact, he'd only narrowly escaped death while flying a plane in the war after being plucked from the ocean by a submarine crew who watched his plane go down.  Pretty amazing stuff!

After the library, we headed south to Galveston.  The traffic was heavy and painfully anxiety provoking for me.  Yes, tears were shed and I easily started to hyperventilate while making my husband incredibly frustrated. 

We managed to survive it anyway and made it to our hotel. 

Today was a new day.  Literally.  We slept in for the first time this trip.  When Kent got out of bed, he opened our balcony door and I realized I had completely relaxed. 

That point of knowing you are on vacation had finally arrived.  I can smell the salty water that is rippling against the sandy beach and hear the seagulls.  Seeing the water roll onto the beach makes me want to walk in the sand. 

We have another full day here in Galveston to relax and make our final preparations before we leave on our cruise.

I am still containing my excitement because I know any number of things could still keep us from leaving.  Maybe tomorrow morning will hold more excitement for me.  Until then, I'll just relax!

Vacation 2012 #1

Yes, this is the 2012 vacation that was planned, unplanned and replanned. 

So, here we set in College Station, TX.  I had planned to update last night, but I was so exhausted.

We are on our 2nd full day of vacation and it has cram packed full of fun.

Our adventure started off by taking our pups to the in-laws and staying all night.  That was a whole bunch of crazy packed in 12 hours.  On Wednesday, we parted from our dogs and headed west.  Yes, yes there were a couple tears shed leaving them.

Probably a little known fact that surprised this Kansas girl...Yates Center is the "Hay Capital of the World."   My guess is that they needed to put something on the sign entering town and that was the only claim to fame that was yet unclaimed.

My husband was supposed to meet a former co-worker in Wichita, which fell through.  His loss was my gain.  We had lunch and ice cream at Braums.  It's a chain store in the southern states where you can still get two giant scoops of ice cream for less than $2.  I ate as much german chocolate and mint chocolate chip as my lactose intolerant tummy would allow.

Dallas bound we were, pulling in about 8 pm.  Once we checked into our cozy, overly warm room at the Hyatt next to 6 Flags, we went on a search for food.  We found a bar and grill called Humperdinks.  We munched on some tasty pickle chips and I had the most amazing steak salad ever.

Thursday morning, we woke up bright and early as we normally do.  Our bodies haven't quite adjusted yet to vacation time and are still on get-up-and-take-the-dogs-out time. 

Around the corner from our hotel was the reason for our stop in Dallas, Cowboys Stadium.  Talk about excited!  I couldn't wait to tour the new stadium.  Our first time to Dallas many years ago, we toured Texas Stadium which is where the Cowboys played until 2009.  I thought it was awesome then and couldn't wait to see it today. 

It did NOT disappoint.  Every area we toured was unique and impressive.  I think I spent an equal amount of time in the pro shop too.  I actually got my husband to buy a Cowboys hat, despite his "Cowgirls" taunting I'd endured all morning.  The next time I visit the stadium, I want to see a game!

After the Stadium, we headed over to a Diner, Drive-ins and Dives restaurant called Chop House Burgers.  The burger had tender chunks of brisket in it and was quite possibly the best burger I've ever had.  I also tried sawdust pie.  That was a dry cake type pie with chocolate chips, pecans and coconut. 

We spent the rest of the afternoon driving to College Station, Texas.  Home of the Texas A&M Aggies and site of our next activity.  Tomorrow, we will visit the George Bush Presidential Library and Museum. 

Before heading to our room for the night, we checked out another DDD restaurant called Hullabaloos.  We had some of the best Italian nachos ever.  It is an old rail car style diner that serves Italian food.  Yummy!!!

We ended the day by sharing a ginormous cinnamon roll. It's definitely time to hit the hay.

Aging with Humor and Love

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!!!!

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.

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!

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.

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.

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!!!!

$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!

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.

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.

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. 

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....

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."  

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.