Holidays suck for me. There's no getting around it. I don't have the typical celebrations with my family, I have none. My husband's family celebrations are always so hard for me. Nobody talks to me, I'm disregarded and overall treated poorly.
I'm not kidding. His family, one by one, will come to wherever we are and say hello to my husband or tell him that dinner is ready. They'll say goodbye to him and not so much as make eye contact with me. At Christmas, the couple gifts I get are usually tossed around and have even been oped by other people.
That's a small list and it's been that way for well over 16 years.
For years, I've struggled to understand. I've never been mean to them. I've tried my best to fit in and love them. I've done everything my husbands ever asked me to do to develop some semblance of a relationship with them and I've failed.
For all these years, I've thought it was me. Beat myself up over it. Listened to my husband tell me that it was me. And still not understood because it didn't add up. Their hatefulness never seemed to match what I gave them.
We've fought. My husband and I have fought over this. Every time, I was at fault. It was me.
My husband made a confession to me this weekend. One that I at times suspected, but never truly believed could be true.
By his own admission, he has told his family every terrible thing I've ever done.
That's right, every little thing I've ever done wrong in our marriage has been shared with his family.
No wonder they hate me. I haven't always been a good wife. In fact, I've been a really bad wife most of our married life. And they've been privy to every bit of it. Our dirty laundry has been aired the entire time and I never knew.
I'm not even sure what to think or how to respond.
Of course I asked some questions. I stayed calm and didn't share my growing frustration.
Did you happen to ever explain to them that I had no real models for how to be a functional member of society, let alone a wife?
Did you ever share the times I begged for forgiveness?
Did you tell them that you weren't always the easiest person to live with or that you at times have been mean?
Did you bother to tell them that I've changed and carried us through all your depression?
Did you ever mention to them that I love you so much that I stayed through all of that and have worked my ass off on our marriage?
No.
NO!!!!!
It's taken me a few days to process this enough to say, I'm hurt.
One of the things I've learned and I believe to be true, you work on your marriage between the two of you. When things get difficult, then it's ok to confide in a trusted person or counselor but only with the intent of being able to go back and work through the issue with your spouse.
Never during our marriage have I ever been that woman who sits around and bitches about my husband with the girls. I won't ever be.
I know, I probably sound like a hypocrit right now since I'm putting this grievance in a public forum. I do so as my personal way of processing and as advice for any reader.
At least this holiday, I'll know why I'm being treated poorly. Because like my husband, they never let things go, and I'm pyong a price for everything I've done wrong and most of it being years and years old.
Good grief. I just want to be loved and forgiven. Isn't that what we all want? I want a family who accepts me. I've never felt further from having that.
We've obviously got some stuff to deal with, huh.
My best marriage advice, know you're both going to make epic mistakes and give your family the running list unless you're going to share the whole story.
Monday, November 24, 2014
Wednesday, November 19, 2014
My days lately...
When we first moved, I stayed busy arranging our home. Then I focused a good deal of time on being a wife and being domestic. Then I got sick. Then, well, I got bored.
I got into a routine with laundry and shopping, but that didn't fill my days. I went through times of feeling useless and struggled with motivation.
Honestly, I'd had a similar struggle after my time volunteering at a previous church ended. Getting the house ready to sell was a welcome job after not having much to do for 6 months.
Volunteering at the previous church was always a mixed bag for me. For a long time, I enjoyed it. When I was allowed, it gave me opportunities to serve the church in unique ways and in ways that people rarely knew.
There were multiple reasons for me being there, most importantly to protect me from my own depression/anxiety when it was very severe. There were times I fought against that.
It was also an emotional roller coaster for me. There was so much drama, so much self inflicted struggle within the office. I won't go into details, but I will say it was tough at times. It was also my first time to see the good, bad and ugly of the church. I was a very immature christian and didn't know how to process what I saw from the members and the general public. I didn't know then the correct ways to handle the things that felt wrong to me.
All that said, I wouldn't change those three and a half years. I developed some amazing relationships, learned a lot and developed a desire to serve the church. Ultimately, it taught me to love the church body, the good, bad and the ugly.
So, my husband shared with our new minister about my experience volunteering in the church office and my desire to do something.
Over the past few months, that has led to an opportunity to volunteer in our new church several hours a week.
It's so nice to have something to do in addition to being a housewife. More importantly, it's giving me an opportunity to serve the church in ways that aren't obvious. I enjoy giving my time to this church and am so thankful.
When school starts in two months, things may change a little. I hope to balance everything, but I shouldn't get bored.
I'm so very thankful that my husband heard my heart and was proactive in helping me fight my boredom.
I got into a routine with laundry and shopping, but that didn't fill my days. I went through times of feeling useless and struggled with motivation.
Honestly, I'd had a similar struggle after my time volunteering at a previous church ended. Getting the house ready to sell was a welcome job after not having much to do for 6 months.
Volunteering at the previous church was always a mixed bag for me. For a long time, I enjoyed it. When I was allowed, it gave me opportunities to serve the church in unique ways and in ways that people rarely knew.
There were multiple reasons for me being there, most importantly to protect me from my own depression/anxiety when it was very severe. There were times I fought against that.
It was also an emotional roller coaster for me. There was so much drama, so much self inflicted struggle within the office. I won't go into details, but I will say it was tough at times. It was also my first time to see the good, bad and ugly of the church. I was a very immature christian and didn't know how to process what I saw from the members and the general public. I didn't know then the correct ways to handle the things that felt wrong to me.
All that said, I wouldn't change those three and a half years. I developed some amazing relationships, learned a lot and developed a desire to serve the church. Ultimately, it taught me to love the church body, the good, bad and the ugly.
So, my husband shared with our new minister about my experience volunteering in the church office and my desire to do something.
Over the past few months, that has led to an opportunity to volunteer in our new church several hours a week.
It's so nice to have something to do in addition to being a housewife. More importantly, it's giving me an opportunity to serve the church in ways that aren't obvious. I enjoy giving my time to this church and am so thankful.
When school starts in two months, things may change a little. I hope to balance everything, but I shouldn't get bored.
I'm so very thankful that my husband heard my heart and was proactive in helping me fight my boredom.
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
Pre Travel Thoughts
It is the week before Thanksgiving, the official start of the holidays. We leave in two days. I'm not overly emotional, but I have a sadness that's settled deep inside me.
I've not been feeling as though I belong here. I've struggled. It's been hard. I've cried out in total darkness, not wanting to be here. Ohio winter has hit early and hard. The coldness has been more than freezing temps, it's been my heart. There has been good things, but in general it's been hard.
We are heading to Missouri. We will see my husbands family, spend some time relaxing in Branson and see a few friends. The truth is, we don't belong there either. We will spend 10 nights in hotels and condos. Not in the comfort of a warm home. We will fight exhaustion as we run from one place to another, never really having any down time. It will be hard and we feel out of place there too. I know because the same thing happened in September.
We, me especially, are in this season where my heart isn't settled anywhere. I struggle to feel truly at home right this minute. I want to. I hate feeling displaced.
When we moved here, the plan was to stick out the two years. It's likely we will be here a good long while. I think ultimately, that will be good. It's really difficult to establish roots if you think of this time as only temporary.
I want this to be home. When there isn't a stirring in my soul, I love it here and I love the people.
At this time each year, I know I have to rely more on facts than emotion. This year is no different.
I have the usual difficulty of the holidays. I have the stress of still recovering from being sick. I am totally jacked up on hormones.
I do have my brothers family coming the day after Christmas. I am looking forward to their 8 day stay. However, that comes with a special kind of stress. As an adult, I've never spent that much time with my brother. It will be good, but stressful. I only have one agenda while he is here. To let him see the impact a relationship with Jesus Christ has had on my life.
I know this too shall pass, but I'm ready to feel at home. I'm ready for things to fit together like they are meant.
I've not been feeling as though I belong here. I've struggled. It's been hard. I've cried out in total darkness, not wanting to be here. Ohio winter has hit early and hard. The coldness has been more than freezing temps, it's been my heart. There has been good things, but in general it's been hard.
We are heading to Missouri. We will see my husbands family, spend some time relaxing in Branson and see a few friends. The truth is, we don't belong there either. We will spend 10 nights in hotels and condos. Not in the comfort of a warm home. We will fight exhaustion as we run from one place to another, never really having any down time. It will be hard and we feel out of place there too. I know because the same thing happened in September.
We, me especially, are in this season where my heart isn't settled anywhere. I struggle to feel truly at home right this minute. I want to. I hate feeling displaced.
When we moved here, the plan was to stick out the two years. It's likely we will be here a good long while. I think ultimately, that will be good. It's really difficult to establish roots if you think of this time as only temporary.
I want this to be home. When there isn't a stirring in my soul, I love it here and I love the people.
At this time each year, I know I have to rely more on facts than emotion. This year is no different.
I have the usual difficulty of the holidays. I have the stress of still recovering from being sick. I am totally jacked up on hormones.
I do have my brothers family coming the day after Christmas. I am looking forward to their 8 day stay. However, that comes with a special kind of stress. As an adult, I've never spent that much time with my brother. It will be good, but stressful. I only have one agenda while he is here. To let him see the impact a relationship with Jesus Christ has had on my life.
I know this too shall pass, but I'm ready to feel at home. I'm ready for things to fit together like they are meant.
Tuesday, November 11, 2014
Girlfriends
I have lots of friends and aquaintances. But if I had to really condense that, I'd have to say I only have a few close, deep relationships with one developing here.
And if I had to be honest, I'd say of those half dozen or so relationships, there are an equal number of men and women. and of those, it took years and years to develop most of them. Years to learn to trust, value relationships and believe that person wasn't planning to hurt me.
I've said this before but it remains true...it is much easier to befriend a man than a woman. As I start anew here, I find myself evaluating why this is so.
Let me start by saying that relationships with men have absolutely nothing to do with sex or lust. If you know me at all, you know that sexual attraction is not a driving force for me. Just putting that out there so there's no confusion.
Secondly, when I develop a relationship with a man, it always resembles a brother/sister relationship. If I don't have that sibling type of love for the person, chances are they'll never be a good friend.
So, why?
Well, I tend to enjoy conversation with men more than women. I gravitate toward manly activities like sports and cars. I've always been that way. I like that men talk with less emotion and more facts. They don't gossip or bitch.
I also tend to have more respect for men. If I need correction or have deep questions about life or the bible, I'd prefer to talk with a man. This will probably always be the case. One thing years of abuse set up for me is to respect men in authority.
Women are so much harder for me. I don't seem to fit. I don't enjoy shopping or gabbing about senseless things or gossiping.
Not all, but a lot of women play games with one another. They expect you to understand them and know exactly what they want. I don't get that. I'm not that way. Again, not all, but many are so not trustworthy. They take what you say in confidence and it spreads like wildfire.
You can imagine that is all making it more difficult to develop relationships here. When I'm in small groups of women, I'm often off to the side by myself. But I could talk to the neighbor guy for hours and never get tired.
I don't know how to fix this without altering who I am. I just got comfortable with who I am, I'm not sure I can change. Even if I did, I'd eventually revert back to the true me and still not fit.
I also don't know how to explain to these people I don't know that I'd much rather sit and watch the game with the guys than go shopping or gossip. Hopefully I can find that too and at least work toward some balance.
And if I had to be honest, I'd say of those half dozen or so relationships, there are an equal number of men and women. and of those, it took years and years to develop most of them. Years to learn to trust, value relationships and believe that person wasn't planning to hurt me.
I've said this before but it remains true...it is much easier to befriend a man than a woman. As I start anew here, I find myself evaluating why this is so.
Let me start by saying that relationships with men have absolutely nothing to do with sex or lust. If you know me at all, you know that sexual attraction is not a driving force for me. Just putting that out there so there's no confusion.
Secondly, when I develop a relationship with a man, it always resembles a brother/sister relationship. If I don't have that sibling type of love for the person, chances are they'll never be a good friend.
So, why?
Well, I tend to enjoy conversation with men more than women. I gravitate toward manly activities like sports and cars. I've always been that way. I like that men talk with less emotion and more facts. They don't gossip or bitch.
I also tend to have more respect for men. If I need correction or have deep questions about life or the bible, I'd prefer to talk with a man. This will probably always be the case. One thing years of abuse set up for me is to respect men in authority.
Women are so much harder for me. I don't seem to fit. I don't enjoy shopping or gabbing about senseless things or gossiping.
Not all, but a lot of women play games with one another. They expect you to understand them and know exactly what they want. I don't get that. I'm not that way. Again, not all, but many are so not trustworthy. They take what you say in confidence and it spreads like wildfire.
You can imagine that is all making it more difficult to develop relationships here. When I'm in small groups of women, I'm often off to the side by myself. But I could talk to the neighbor guy for hours and never get tired.
I don't know how to fix this without altering who I am. I just got comfortable with who I am, I'm not sure I can change. Even if I did, I'd eventually revert back to the true me and still not fit.
I also don't know how to explain to these people I don't know that I'd much rather sit and watch the game with the guys than go shopping or gossip. Hopefully I can find that too and at least work toward some balance.
Saturday, November 8, 2014
Baby Dreams
I have a confession. I think this baby stuff has taken over my life. For 16 nights straight, I have woke up in the middle of the night from either a nightmare about babies, in full blown memory of the losses or in tears with the latest loss on my mind.
It's safe to say, I'm not through this yet.
In all fairness, I did talk to our minister about it. He had wonderful, wise counsel and was willing to listen to me. I met with him twice and told him I was fine, over it.
Now I am fairly certain he'd talk with me again, especially if he knew how much it is bothering me still. However, I have those two little problems. One is pride, I couldn't possible admit that I fudged the truth with him. The other, my solid to the core belief that I am not worth the time. I don't ever feel as though I am worthy of anyone's time, that there are far more important things for that person to deal with than me.
So here I am. Still stuck in this place of all consuming grief and confusion.
In January, I'm headed to school to be a counselor. I've been walking with people through some pretty tough stuff lately. I feel like I should already have all the answers and know how to get over this. But I don't.
I'm not depressed, that's not it. It's grief and sadness over a loss.
There's a part of me that's glad winter is coming. The less I'm around people, the better. I just can't hold myself together long enough to be around people for extended periods. It's too hard.
Last Friday, my previous psychologist called me. He was so kind to be checking in on me. As I left him a voicemail, a bit of reality smacked me in the face. I reported the news, gave the rundown of everything that's happened since we last spoke in July.
After I finished the rundown, I told him not to worry that I was doing absolutely fine. As the word fine hit my lips, my voice cracked and the tears shot out of my eyes. I abruptly ended the message, hoping his keen psychological spidey sense wouldn't kick in and I wouldn't be faced with a return call.
There is only so much he can do so far away. I'm very much a face to face person and am exactly that way with this stuff.
Since I'm still struggling physically with my hemoglobin being so low, I don't have a choice but to go to sleep at night. Otherwise, I'd opt to stay awake and forgo the nightmares.
I don't know who you (the reader is), but I would love it if you'd pray for me. That either this season of grief and confusion would subside, get easier or that I would finally come to the end of myself and ask for help cause I'm failing miserably doing this alone.
It's safe to say, I'm not through this yet.
In all fairness, I did talk to our minister about it. He had wonderful, wise counsel and was willing to listen to me. I met with him twice and told him I was fine, over it.
Now I am fairly certain he'd talk with me again, especially if he knew how much it is bothering me still. However, I have those two little problems. One is pride, I couldn't possible admit that I fudged the truth with him. The other, my solid to the core belief that I am not worth the time. I don't ever feel as though I am worthy of anyone's time, that there are far more important things for that person to deal with than me.
So here I am. Still stuck in this place of all consuming grief and confusion.
In January, I'm headed to school to be a counselor. I've been walking with people through some pretty tough stuff lately. I feel like I should already have all the answers and know how to get over this. But I don't.
I'm not depressed, that's not it. It's grief and sadness over a loss.
There's a part of me that's glad winter is coming. The less I'm around people, the better. I just can't hold myself together long enough to be around people for extended periods. It's too hard.
Last Friday, my previous psychologist called me. He was so kind to be checking in on me. As I left him a voicemail, a bit of reality smacked me in the face. I reported the news, gave the rundown of everything that's happened since we last spoke in July.
After I finished the rundown, I told him not to worry that I was doing absolutely fine. As the word fine hit my lips, my voice cracked and the tears shot out of my eyes. I abruptly ended the message, hoping his keen psychological spidey sense wouldn't kick in and I wouldn't be faced with a return call.
There is only so much he can do so far away. I'm very much a face to face person and am exactly that way with this stuff.
Since I'm still struggling physically with my hemoglobin being so low, I don't have a choice but to go to sleep at night. Otherwise, I'd opt to stay awake and forgo the nightmares.
I don't know who you (the reader is), but I would love it if you'd pray for me. That either this season of grief and confusion would subside, get easier or that I would finally come to the end of myself and ask for help cause I'm failing miserably doing this alone.
Friday, November 7, 2014
What life is really like here.
I love it here. I love the slower pace of life. The people are friendlier and I love our home. All those things are true and very consistent.
But there's a dark side too, a reality that isn't all sunshine.
My husband is severely depressed and there's no help for him. He doesn't enjoy anything. A month ago, he told me he wasn't sure he knew how to love me. He's struggling with faith. It crushes me, all of it.
I've met a lot of wonderful people, but I feel so alone here. There's lots of reasons for that. In KC, I had my friends. I knew who I could trust, who I could call in crisis, who was good for a mid day pick me up. I also knew what was expected of me. I knew what I could say and what I should not. I knew who could speak hard truth to me and how to take things.
It took me a long time to learn all that and I was happy. Here, I don't know any of that. I have to start over. I constantly say the wrong thing and misjudge how to take things. It's so damn hard! It's like having to learn to walk all over again. And the crappy part is that the same rules don't apply because the culture and people here are completely different.
After six months, I've started to see how previous relationships are shaking out. Few have stayed strong, but I still know who is fiercely supportive. Some have slipped away and some still come in a text a month. That in itself brings another level of adapting.
Despite our 6 years of strained relationship, being away from my little brother and his family is the hardest. I would only see them 1-2 times a year max. However, the past two years, my brother and I had been rebuilding our relationship. For the first time ever, I know he loves me even though he hasn't learned how to show it. And I miss him. Everything else that causes sadness in my life is nothing compared to how badly I miss him. I am on a countdown for December 26.
My faith is not shaken through this. I may question and wrestle with where God's love can be found, but I refuse to let go of the one constant.
But there's a dark side too, a reality that isn't all sunshine.
My husband is severely depressed and there's no help for him. He doesn't enjoy anything. A month ago, he told me he wasn't sure he knew how to love me. He's struggling with faith. It crushes me, all of it.
I've met a lot of wonderful people, but I feel so alone here. There's lots of reasons for that. In KC, I had my friends. I knew who I could trust, who I could call in crisis, who was good for a mid day pick me up. I also knew what was expected of me. I knew what I could say and what I should not. I knew who could speak hard truth to me and how to take things.
It took me a long time to learn all that and I was happy. Here, I don't know any of that. I have to start over. I constantly say the wrong thing and misjudge how to take things. It's so damn hard! It's like having to learn to walk all over again. And the crappy part is that the same rules don't apply because the culture and people here are completely different.
After six months, I've started to see how previous relationships are shaking out. Few have stayed strong, but I still know who is fiercely supportive. Some have slipped away and some still come in a text a month. That in itself brings another level of adapting.
Despite our 6 years of strained relationship, being away from my little brother and his family is the hardest. I would only see them 1-2 times a year max. However, the past two years, my brother and I had been rebuilding our relationship. For the first time ever, I know he loves me even though he hasn't learned how to show it. And I miss him. Everything else that causes sadness in my life is nothing compared to how badly I miss him. I am on a countdown for December 26.
My faith is not shaken through this. I may question and wrestle with where God's love can be found, but I refuse to let go of the one constant.
Thursday, November 6, 2014
Where my grief goes
Back in September, I started a grief process that I never thought I'd experience again. It overwhelmed me. To grieve miscarriages for the first time in so long was more than I was prepared for.
My grief spewed out at all times and on everybody. Until one day, about two weeks in, I took assessment of those around me. Everyone here who was even remotely with me through it, appeared to be done with me. They physically and verbally seemed to grow tired of my emotions and very much came across to me with the words and non verbal communications that screamed "aren't you over this yet!"
So I did what I do best. I put it away. Shoved it so far inside myself that there was no chance it would come back out. At least not in ways that I would allow anyone to see.
When I'd see new babies of friends on fb, I'd head to the bathroom and bite back tears until the sadness passed.
When I got handed the baby dedication forms at church to take care of and the announcement in the bulletin, I turned the music up loud so nobody dare hear my momentary bout of bawling.
When I listened to friends complain about their children, I fought those raw emotions that threatened to come out in a full blown backhand and reminder to be thankful for what others can't have.
The truth is, it's still there. Sitting at the surface and eating away at each of my days. I exhausted my resources and convinced everyone I was ok. Doing so for them, not me. Believing life would somehow get better if everyone around me were once again ok with me.
I screwed up. I'm not ok. I'm still grieving and I'm doing it completely alone. The people who were helping have long since moved on, because that's what I claimed to have done.
As I sat filling out our fertility specialist paperwork, it hit me hard. There is a higher probability of additional loss than actually having a baby. Am I ready for that? Do I have the support I need for that? I can't answer those questions.
I was devastated and elated that our appointment had to be postponed. I think I need a little while longer for my heart to mend before I do it all again.
Tuesday, November 4, 2014
The other shoe
I'm sure you've heard that saying about waiting for the other shoe to drop. Well....
Life has been too good lately, which means satan is in full blown attack mode.
Two weeks ago, things couldn't have been better. I was loving life and things were far better than I anticipated.
I was loving this area. Loving church. Felt great. Plans for infertility treatment and school were moving forward.
Then the past week happened and everything came to a screeching halt.
I spent the better part of a night in the ER with what we can only guess is a gallbladder problem. I can't get in until mid December to get further testing. Until then, my digestive system is totally jacked up and I spend about every other night puking.
My first fertility appointment was to be tomorrow. Guess what? They won't treat with major issues, like gallbladder going on. So that appointment is in limbo and likely cancelled until further notice. It probably deserves a post of its own, but I'm having major second thoughts about the process.
You can imagine with the gallbladder problem and stress of it all, I no longer feel great. My most recent gyno issues have caused my anemia to come back and my hemoglobin to drop. Cue the constant sleeping, no physical energy, rapid heart beat and being freezing cold all the time.
School is in limbo at this point too. Partially because I can't get my high school transcript and partially becaus of me.
I can't decide between two schools and three programs. It's a huge commitment. At nearly $6000 per semester, I need to make sure it's right. I know my own insecurity is plaguing me too.
There are so many good things about a small church. I would never say that it's easy to adapt when changing from a medium sized church to a small church. Really, it's probably less about church and more about adapting period. Even after six months, we still find that we have a lot of adapting left to do.
I'm not surprised by any of this. I expected it.
What I didn't expect was my response. My need to self protect has kicked into overdrive. I want to withdraw and not leave home. I've said it before, but the amount of stuff since January has been so overwhelming. We aren't quite out from under the weight of it all and it's still crushing us.
I thought I was beyond that, beyond withdrawing. I guess not. So, I'll quietly battle this round the best I can. I don't have a support system here to help and encourage. I'll make it through all of this, but it's hard right now.
Life has been too good lately, which means satan is in full blown attack mode.
Two weeks ago, things couldn't have been better. I was loving life and things were far better than I anticipated.
I was loving this area. Loving church. Felt great. Plans for infertility treatment and school were moving forward.
Then the past week happened and everything came to a screeching halt.
I spent the better part of a night in the ER with what we can only guess is a gallbladder problem. I can't get in until mid December to get further testing. Until then, my digestive system is totally jacked up and I spend about every other night puking.
My first fertility appointment was to be tomorrow. Guess what? They won't treat with major issues, like gallbladder going on. So that appointment is in limbo and likely cancelled until further notice. It probably deserves a post of its own, but I'm having major second thoughts about the process.
You can imagine with the gallbladder problem and stress of it all, I no longer feel great. My most recent gyno issues have caused my anemia to come back and my hemoglobin to drop. Cue the constant sleeping, no physical energy, rapid heart beat and being freezing cold all the time.
School is in limbo at this point too. Partially because I can't get my high school transcript and partially becaus of me.
I can't decide between two schools and three programs. It's a huge commitment. At nearly $6000 per semester, I need to make sure it's right. I know my own insecurity is plaguing me too.
There are so many good things about a small church. I would never say that it's easy to adapt when changing from a medium sized church to a small church. Really, it's probably less about church and more about adapting period. Even after six months, we still find that we have a lot of adapting left to do.
I'm not surprised by any of this. I expected it.
What I didn't expect was my response. My need to self protect has kicked into overdrive. I want to withdraw and not leave home. I've said it before, but the amount of stuff since January has been so overwhelming. We aren't quite out from under the weight of it all and it's still crushing us.
I thought I was beyond that, beyond withdrawing. I guess not. So, I'll quietly battle this round the best I can. I don't have a support system here to help and encourage. I'll make it through all of this, but it's hard right now.
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Forgiveness is Tricky
I'm learning that it's much easier to forgive people you no longer have contact with.
In the past few months, I've had some acute medical issues and lost a baby. With the exception of my brothers family, nobody in mine or my husbands family has bothered to reach out to us. No calls or texts. No sorry you lost a baby or sorry you had to go to the ER again.
They don't care. They don't care about anyone but themselves.
Yesterday, I had what we believe is a gallbladder attack for the second time in three days. We went to the ER at 3 am.
A particular member of my husbands family chose yesterday to bitch at me about bringing our dogs back for Thanksgiving and not staying with my inlaws.
WTF? I just got home from the hospital and I know you know that because you are a fb junkie.
Maybe it's because I don't feel good. Or maybe it's because the older I get, the less I feel the need to put up with bullshit. But, I have no tolerance for this.
If you aren't compassionate or loving or even sensitive towards us when life is hard, then you sure the hell don't have the right to judge me or tell me what to do.
That's the way these people operate. I've been a part of them for over 20 years and it'll never change. But how much do u have to subject myself to before I snap?
There are times when we have to fight to act christian. This is one of those times. Everything in me wants to tell all of them to piss off.
It's one of those times that I am going to have to pray like crazy. I know ultimately they have the problem. They have sin in their lives that make them hateful and selfish. Not that I am without sin in this, I'm not. My heart is cold toward them. I'm angry.
We only have a few weeks till we leave. I hope I can prepare my heart for it before then.
In the past few months, I've had some acute medical issues and lost a baby. With the exception of my brothers family, nobody in mine or my husbands family has bothered to reach out to us. No calls or texts. No sorry you lost a baby or sorry you had to go to the ER again.
They don't care. They don't care about anyone but themselves.
Yesterday, I had what we believe is a gallbladder attack for the second time in three days. We went to the ER at 3 am.
A particular member of my husbands family chose yesterday to bitch at me about bringing our dogs back for Thanksgiving and not staying with my inlaws.
WTF? I just got home from the hospital and I know you know that because you are a fb junkie.
Maybe it's because I don't feel good. Or maybe it's because the older I get, the less I feel the need to put up with bullshit. But, I have no tolerance for this.
If you aren't compassionate or loving or even sensitive towards us when life is hard, then you sure the hell don't have the right to judge me or tell me what to do.
That's the way these people operate. I've been a part of them for over 20 years and it'll never change. But how much do u have to subject myself to before I snap?
There are times when we have to fight to act christian. This is one of those times. Everything in me wants to tell all of them to piss off.
It's one of those times that I am going to have to pray like crazy. I know ultimately they have the problem. They have sin in their lives that make them hateful and selfish. Not that I am without sin in this, I'm not. My heart is cold toward them. I'm angry.
We only have a few weeks till we leave. I hope I can prepare my heart for it before then.
Wednesday, October 22, 2014
Christmas Lists and Family
Let me start by saying that my brother and his family are coming out for 8 days at Christmas and I am elated. It'll be the first time in 8 years that I've soent Christmas with any of my family.
But let's get down to the reality of the right now. Each year my husband asks for a Christmas list. I'm happy to give him one, but it's also the beginning of the Christmas spiral.
This year has great potential to be different, in good and bad ways.
Having my brothers family here is going to make it the best holiday season.
Being here, in a new place, it's going to make the holidays hard.
We will be back home for Thanksgiving. That's going to be good for my husband. He will need and enjoy the time with his family.
They aren't my family though. That's always been the case, but especially so in the past year. I've been through a lot and nobody has bothered to check on me. Two miscarriages, being sick, big life changes, they all know about it and nobody has bothered to say one word. That's a big slap of reality.
So, there won't be any family or warm fuzzy feelings for me through Thanksgiving.
There's a bigger change here. We had friends and parties and invitations and traditions.
We would go several times to look at the traditional KC lights.
We had Christmas cards and trays of cookies or breads.
We don't have many friends here and even less who know how tough it will be to go through the holidays so far away from home, adjusting still to our new normal.
I'm prepared. I'm ready. Bring on the good and bad. We will make the most of it all.
But let's get down to the reality of the right now. Each year my husband asks for a Christmas list. I'm happy to give him one, but it's also the beginning of the Christmas spiral.
This year has great potential to be different, in good and bad ways.
Having my brothers family here is going to make it the best holiday season.
Being here, in a new place, it's going to make the holidays hard.
We will be back home for Thanksgiving. That's going to be good for my husband. He will need and enjoy the time with his family.
They aren't my family though. That's always been the case, but especially so in the past year. I've been through a lot and nobody has bothered to check on me. Two miscarriages, being sick, big life changes, they all know about it and nobody has bothered to say one word. That's a big slap of reality.
So, there won't be any family or warm fuzzy feelings for me through Thanksgiving.
There's a bigger change here. We had friends and parties and invitations and traditions.
We would go several times to look at the traditional KC lights.
We had Christmas cards and trays of cookies or breads.
We don't have many friends here and even less who know how tough it will be to go through the holidays so far away from home, adjusting still to our new normal.
I'm prepared. I'm ready. Bring on the good and bad. We will make the most of it all.
Sunday, October 19, 2014
Identity
There are two things going on right now, completely different, but both tied to finding out true identity in Christ.
The first is walking with my husband through his depression. His depression is partially chemical, partially low self esteem.
My husband group up in a Christian home with living parents. On the surface, his family was picture perfect.
Even an average family with above average stability can still be dysfunctional. His mom was overly legalistic and created a warped view of what it took to please God and thereby please her. His dad was distant and failed to express love or nurture the children in healthy ways.
Those things left my husband with a jacked up idea that he was and never could be good enough for anyone. Whether it is at work, church, home, or in general social settings, he shyly steps to the back and takes a seat beneath all others because that is where he feels he belongs.
He doesn't see himself how I see him or others see him or even how God sees him.
My husband is a kind, loving, fiercely protective, absolutely loyal person. He does nothing halfway and works with a standard of ethics that most people never learn. He's a good guy who'd do anything for anybody.
Most people don't know that about him because he comes across as unapproachable and aloof. He's not. He's just that introverted and sees himself with little value, definitely not worth anyone's time.
As you can imagine, this has made our move harder. I can't lie, it's been hard on our marriage. When someone struggles to see value within themselves, they don't find value in those around them. They can also be quite insufferable.
I've prayed and talked with him and prayed more. I love this man and want nothing more than for him to find his identity in Christ. I want him to see his value in the kingdom, the love that is freely given by God. I want him to know the truth about himself and replace those old thoughts.
the truth that Jesus died for us is an overwhelming truth. Sometimes we get so caught in self centered thinking, that we forget that truth is for everyone. Jesus died for me, you, my husband. I'm constantly having to remind myself and say to my husband that God loves him far more than I ever could.
Walking through this with him in concentrated ways over the past year, I've had to really consider my own life and my own identity.
I want him to know when I say something that I'm doing my best to live in that truth as well. The truth is that I struggle too.
I don't get caught up in what others think about me. I honestly don't care if someone thinks one weird or stupid. I don't care if I have wrinkles or use the wrong word.
However, if you ask me how I think people see me or how I see myself, you'd find that I have a pretty warped view of myself.
My dad always said that I would play sports, weigh over 350 lbs, talk like a man, be uglier than a barn door, be dumber than a box of hammers, never get married and be a lesbian.
Well, friends, let me tell you....none of that is true. Since my dad did permanent damage to my back, sports are out. I've never weighed 350 lbs, not even close. I don't sound like a man. In fact, I get mistaken for a child on the phone and have singing voice that can range from alto to soprano. I'm definitely not a lesbian. Despite my lack of femininity, I'm not the least bit attracted to women. As far as the ugly, eh, he might be right on that. Although I don't know that people run at the sight of me. I have an IQ of over 180. I've been with the same man for over 20 years.
None of his predictions were accurate.
Now let me tell you exactly how I think people see me and I see myself. It's a condensed version of what my dad said. When you look at me, I believe you see a screwed up woman who is fat, ugly and stupid. I don't believe that I am worthy of your time and doubt I could ever change your mind about me.
Sad, but true. Over 30 years of this being truth means that I still fight this same battle. I don't deal with depression and am fairly stable. It's just a truth for me. It's truth because my experiences lean more toward that than Gods truth.
That sad reality convicts my heart even more that I need to constantly repeat truth to my husband and hope some of it penetrates my heart.
In a similar way, I feel satan working over time to attack me right now. As I move forward with school, those old messages and low self esteem threaten to settle deep into my bones at each step. I constantly fight those times when I don't believe I can do this.
Let's get something straight, the decision to go to school wasn't mine. It was God directed. I fought it, denied it.
I know God will equip me with everything I need to do what He has called me to do. However, that doesn't mean that satan isn't going to try to bring me down in the process. He sneaks into those areas of weakness, those places where I don't firmly stand with Christ. He bites at those areas where I struggle to see my identity in Christ.
So here we are, constantly praying. Praying that God will sustain us as we learn who we are in Christ. While we learn to accept grace and fully live as children of the King.
The first is walking with my husband through his depression. His depression is partially chemical, partially low self esteem.
My husband group up in a Christian home with living parents. On the surface, his family was picture perfect.
Even an average family with above average stability can still be dysfunctional. His mom was overly legalistic and created a warped view of what it took to please God and thereby please her. His dad was distant and failed to express love or nurture the children in healthy ways.
Those things left my husband with a jacked up idea that he was and never could be good enough for anyone. Whether it is at work, church, home, or in general social settings, he shyly steps to the back and takes a seat beneath all others because that is where he feels he belongs.
He doesn't see himself how I see him or others see him or even how God sees him.
My husband is a kind, loving, fiercely protective, absolutely loyal person. He does nothing halfway and works with a standard of ethics that most people never learn. He's a good guy who'd do anything for anybody.
Most people don't know that about him because he comes across as unapproachable and aloof. He's not. He's just that introverted and sees himself with little value, definitely not worth anyone's time.
As you can imagine, this has made our move harder. I can't lie, it's been hard on our marriage. When someone struggles to see value within themselves, they don't find value in those around them. They can also be quite insufferable.
I've prayed and talked with him and prayed more. I love this man and want nothing more than for him to find his identity in Christ. I want him to see his value in the kingdom, the love that is freely given by God. I want him to know the truth about himself and replace those old thoughts.
the truth that Jesus died for us is an overwhelming truth. Sometimes we get so caught in self centered thinking, that we forget that truth is for everyone. Jesus died for me, you, my husband. I'm constantly having to remind myself and say to my husband that God loves him far more than I ever could.
Walking through this with him in concentrated ways over the past year, I've had to really consider my own life and my own identity.
I want him to know when I say something that I'm doing my best to live in that truth as well. The truth is that I struggle too.
I don't get caught up in what others think about me. I honestly don't care if someone thinks one weird or stupid. I don't care if I have wrinkles or use the wrong word.
However, if you ask me how I think people see me or how I see myself, you'd find that I have a pretty warped view of myself.
My dad always said that I would play sports, weigh over 350 lbs, talk like a man, be uglier than a barn door, be dumber than a box of hammers, never get married and be a lesbian.
Well, friends, let me tell you....none of that is true. Since my dad did permanent damage to my back, sports are out. I've never weighed 350 lbs, not even close. I don't sound like a man. In fact, I get mistaken for a child on the phone and have singing voice that can range from alto to soprano. I'm definitely not a lesbian. Despite my lack of femininity, I'm not the least bit attracted to women. As far as the ugly, eh, he might be right on that. Although I don't know that people run at the sight of me. I have an IQ of over 180. I've been with the same man for over 20 years.
None of his predictions were accurate.
Now let me tell you exactly how I think people see me and I see myself. It's a condensed version of what my dad said. When you look at me, I believe you see a screwed up woman who is fat, ugly and stupid. I don't believe that I am worthy of your time and doubt I could ever change your mind about me.
Sad, but true. Over 30 years of this being truth means that I still fight this same battle. I don't deal with depression and am fairly stable. It's just a truth for me. It's truth because my experiences lean more toward that than Gods truth.
That sad reality convicts my heart even more that I need to constantly repeat truth to my husband and hope some of it penetrates my heart.
In a similar way, I feel satan working over time to attack me right now. As I move forward with school, those old messages and low self esteem threaten to settle deep into my bones at each step. I constantly fight those times when I don't believe I can do this.
Let's get something straight, the decision to go to school wasn't mine. It was God directed. I fought it, denied it.
I know God will equip me with everything I need to do what He has called me to do. However, that doesn't mean that satan isn't going to try to bring me down in the process. He sneaks into those areas of weakness, those places where I don't firmly stand with Christ. He bites at those areas where I struggle to see my identity in Christ.
So here we are, constantly praying. Praying that God will sustain us as we learn who we are in Christ. While we learn to accept grace and fully live as children of the King.
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Forgiving
So this book...
Let me back up to the day before I started reading it.
There was a restlessness in my heart. The past two years have been growing years for me. In that, I have really become more aware of who I am. By that, I mean what I like, things I enjoy. I've found my personality. Those things in me that could only be found when the past was stripped away and I could begin to find my identity.
Along this journey of healing, I had forgiven everyone except my parents. There were a lot, well into the 100s of people. Most of them were unceremoniously forgiven through time and maturity. Others came after big aha moments. Regardless, there were two left.
I had vowed to hate them until they died and then I'd think about forgiving. I had rationalized that God knew and wasn't shocked by my unwillingness.
So here I was a few days ago. Feeling that restlessness. It didn't take much prayer or searching my heart to know exactly what it was. It was my parents.
Let me start by saying that I am in no way advocating a relationship with them. EVER!
I knew it would take a lot of prayer, but I knew I was ready. I was ready to let go of that anger that bound me to them. That anger that still allowed them to indirectly exert control over me.
I made a commitment to pray about it as long as it took. I didn't share this with anyone. Really, I didn't have it in me. My first attempt was a failure. I couldn't bring myself to even ask the Lord to soften my heart. I had to back up. My prayer those first few days were merely asking for the want to. Even though I knew I needed to, I didn't have the desire.
It really is ok that I didn't have the desire. Forgiving the biggest atrocities ever committed against you at the hands of the people who were supposed to love and protect you, I'm convinced is something nobody just wants to do. It has to be super natural.
So the days went by and I continued to pray and read this book.
Again, I'm sitting here in a little disbelief that this book was recommended by coincidence right now.
As I came to the end of the book, it was clear that unforgiveness ravaged the mind of this former POW. I think that's an easy thing when you've been brutalized.
This paragraph spoke mountains of truth straight to my heart:
Nobody, and I mean nobody, who has suffered trauma ever wants to be bound to the perpetrator. Just the opposite. They desperately want that tie severed. In holding onto the idea of vengeance and not forgiving, we are stuck.
Another excerpt from the book adequately describes exactly how it is to feel that hatred so deeply:
In prison camp, he’d been beaten into dehumanized obedience to a world order in which the Bird was absolute sovereign, and it was under this world order that he still lived. The Bird had taken his dignity and left him feeling humiliated, ashamed, and powerless, and Louie believed that only the Bird could restore him, by suffering and dying in the grip of his hands.
Page after page, I found myself wanting to release the anger that has had a firm grip on my heart. How can I truly be free to move on with life or know my true self if that anger still owned a wedge of my heart?
Simply put, I cannot.
The subject of the book eventually forgave his captors. It took a process. A process of downward spiral and becoming a Christian. The Lord did a work in his heart that allowed him to let go of the anger and forgive.
I spent a great deal of time slowly reading and rereading the graphic details of everything this man went through. I didn't know why at the time. I'm usually a once through reader and then moving into the next book. Not this time. I took it in. I spent hours reading through details that would normally have triggered my own flashbacks.
As I read, it was clear that this wasn't so that I could do some comparative reasoning. It wasn't so that I could sit here at the end of the book and deduce that if he could survive all that and forgive then I should be able to forgive. No. I am convinced that it was so I could see the work of God throughout the story.
The Lord allowed free will in the lives of my parents. However, He never allowed them to kill me. It was His plan for me to survive.
In the book, Louie Zamperini says that if he knew he'd have to relive it all again, he'd choose to die. I definitely feel that way, but that wasn't my story.
When I think about my life, the one thing I want the most is to be free from the past. I believe I'm there.
It's one of those gifts. Those gifts God gives because He loves us so.
As I finished the book, tear stained cheeks, I sat in prayer. Praising God that the unforgiveness that held my heart captive was gone.
Nothing earth shattering happened, my anger and hatred were just gone. It's not likely that my parents will ever know. This wasn't for them, it was for me.
Forgiving doesn't delete the past. It doesn't minimize what God has done. It doesn't negate what I've survived. But it does untether me from my parents. It allows me to finally be free. It allows me to live more obediently and more fully enveloped by the love of God.
Let me back up to the day before I started reading it.
There was a restlessness in my heart. The past two years have been growing years for me. In that, I have really become more aware of who I am. By that, I mean what I like, things I enjoy. I've found my personality. Those things in me that could only be found when the past was stripped away and I could begin to find my identity.
Along this journey of healing, I had forgiven everyone except my parents. There were a lot, well into the 100s of people. Most of them were unceremoniously forgiven through time and maturity. Others came after big aha moments. Regardless, there were two left.
I had vowed to hate them until they died and then I'd think about forgiving. I had rationalized that God knew and wasn't shocked by my unwillingness.
So here I was a few days ago. Feeling that restlessness. It didn't take much prayer or searching my heart to know exactly what it was. It was my parents.
Let me start by saying that I am in no way advocating a relationship with them. EVER!
I knew it would take a lot of prayer, but I knew I was ready. I was ready to let go of that anger that bound me to them. That anger that still allowed them to indirectly exert control over me.
I made a commitment to pray about it as long as it took. I didn't share this with anyone. Really, I didn't have it in me. My first attempt was a failure. I couldn't bring myself to even ask the Lord to soften my heart. I had to back up. My prayer those first few days were merely asking for the want to. Even though I knew I needed to, I didn't have the desire.
It really is ok that I didn't have the desire. Forgiving the biggest atrocities ever committed against you at the hands of the people who were supposed to love and protect you, I'm convinced is something nobody just wants to do. It has to be super natural.
So the days went by and I continued to pray and read this book.
Again, I'm sitting here in a little disbelief that this book was recommended by coincidence right now.
As I came to the end of the book, it was clear that unforgiveness ravaged the mind of this former POW. I think that's an easy thing when you've been brutalized.
This paragraph spoke mountains of truth straight to my heart:
Read that again.The paradox of vengefulness is that it makes men dependent upon those who have harmed them, believing that their release from pain will come only when they make their tormentors suffer.
Nobody, and I mean nobody, who has suffered trauma ever wants to be bound to the perpetrator. Just the opposite. They desperately want that tie severed. In holding onto the idea of vengeance and not forgiving, we are stuck.
Another excerpt from the book adequately describes exactly how it is to feel that hatred so deeply:
In prison camp, he’d been beaten into dehumanized obedience to a world order in which the Bird was absolute sovereign, and it was under this world order that he still lived. The Bird had taken his dignity and left him feeling humiliated, ashamed, and powerless, and Louie believed that only the Bird could restore him, by suffering and dying in the grip of his hands.
Page after page, I found myself wanting to release the anger that has had a firm grip on my heart. How can I truly be free to move on with life or know my true self if that anger still owned a wedge of my heart?
Simply put, I cannot.
The subject of the book eventually forgave his captors. It took a process. A process of downward spiral and becoming a Christian. The Lord did a work in his heart that allowed him to let go of the anger and forgive.
I spent a great deal of time slowly reading and rereading the graphic details of everything this man went through. I didn't know why at the time. I'm usually a once through reader and then moving into the next book. Not this time. I took it in. I spent hours reading through details that would normally have triggered my own flashbacks.
As I read, it was clear that this wasn't so that I could do some comparative reasoning. It wasn't so that I could sit here at the end of the book and deduce that if he could survive all that and forgive then I should be able to forgive. No. I am convinced that it was so I could see the work of God throughout the story.
The Lord allowed free will in the lives of my parents. However, He never allowed them to kill me. It was His plan for me to survive.
In the book, Louie Zamperini says that if he knew he'd have to relive it all again, he'd choose to die. I definitely feel that way, but that wasn't my story.
When I think about my life, the one thing I want the most is to be free from the past. I believe I'm there.
It's one of those gifts. Those gifts God gives because He loves us so.
As I finished the book, tear stained cheeks, I sat in prayer. Praising God that the unforgiveness that held my heart captive was gone.
Nothing earth shattering happened, my anger and hatred were just gone. It's not likely that my parents will ever know. This wasn't for them, it was for me.
Forgiving doesn't delete the past. It doesn't minimize what God has done. It doesn't negate what I've survived. But it does untether me from my parents. It allows me to finally be free. It allows me to live more obediently and more fully enveloped by the love of God.
Tuesday, October 14, 2014
PTSD
Since I was able to do little more than lay around this summer, I read and I read a lot. I'm not a fan of fiction. I stick with biography and Christian non-fiction.
I found myself reading and rereading with intensity the pages and pages of graphic details of this man's suffering.
At the end of the book, the author shares Zamparini's spiral into the thresholds of PTSD.
What was outlined in the book made me consider my own life with PTSD.
I've never read any book about PTSD nor have a read any books where it was even mentioned.
Zamparini suffered horrific abuse, torture and neglect at the hands of men. It can take as little as one traumatic event to cause PTSD. Someone who suffers trauma daily would rarely escape unscathed.
"For these men, the central struggle of postwar life was to restore their dignity and find a way to see the world as something other than menacing blackness."
That is one of the most accurate descriptions of living with PTSD that I've ever heard and is certainly applicable to anyone who has suffered a great depth of trauma.
Granted the stories are vastly different, yet eerily similar.
My story spans over 30+ years. It's filled with unimaginable trauma. As I read through some of the brutality detailed in this book, I ached with reminiscent pains of what was once my reality. Flooding my mind were vivid memories of having hot motor oil poured into my ears or being bound to a freezing garage floor while my toenails were pulled off my feet.
Even though you survive, you don't walk away without being forever changed.
Since I barely knew anything about PTSD when I was diagnosed in 2007, I am amazed to read about it from 70 years ago. I'm not sure if they had a name for it, but it was all the same. Flashbacks. Nightmares. Spontaneous reaction to triggers. Self medicating.
In the book, Zamparini is able to move past his PTSD through spiritual conversion.
That isn't always the case. Being a Christian doesn't always immediately change who you are or the afflictions you have. Although, I believe you always strive to accurately rearrange your thinking.
I've spent the past few days thinking about my PTSD.
I'm not a prisoner to it. I used to be, but no more. Is it still there? Yes.
My PTSD is much improved, in fact most people wouldn't know I have it unless I told them. I tend to be honest with people who need to know or I am around often. It's best they know because I can be easily spooked, sending me into a flashback or causing me to take a swing.
This is improved. There was a time when I could barely leave my house. There was a time when flashbacks consumed my life and spent days stuck in rapid fire playback of my childhood. There were times when it brought on debilitating OCD and overwhelming rage.
I'm thankful those days have long past. In the last 18 months, I've been fortunate to only be triggered a few times. Usually extended time spent in any basement is my undoing. Although I know that and can still slowly work through healing with concentrated prayer and perseverance.
This book was an opportunity to take stock of how far I've come in regards to the PTSD and a healthy reminder that I did survive. I survived hell and PTSD has been the natural fall out from it. It's also served as a hope and expectation that one day, PTSD will no longer have a place in my life. It is a reminder of the promises God has made for wholeness.
Our tiny library only has a limited number of books and I've read a lot of them. Running out of options and always open for suggestions, I asked our pastor. Thankfully, he had many suggestions. In fact, he told me to set any book I was reading aside and read Unbroken.
I am convinced this guy is either a coincidental genius or knew exactly what he was doing. I'm not sure I've ever had a book impact me so deeply, so intimately.
This book is the life story of Louie Zamparini. He was an Olympic runner who ended up being a POW in Japan after surviving a plan crash and being adrift on a raft for 47 days. Read the book, you won't regret it.
The beginning of the book chronicled his life and eventual fame as an Olympic runner.
I found myself reading and rereading with intensity the pages and pages of graphic details of this man's suffering.
At the end of the book, the author shares Zamparini's spiral into the thresholds of PTSD.
What was outlined in the book made me consider my own life with PTSD.
I've never read any book about PTSD nor have a read any books where it was even mentioned.
Zamparini suffered horrific abuse, torture and neglect at the hands of men. It can take as little as one traumatic event to cause PTSD. Someone who suffers trauma daily would rarely escape unscathed.
"For these men, the central struggle of postwar life was to restore their dignity and find a way to see the world as something other than menacing blackness."
That is one of the most accurate descriptions of living with PTSD that I've ever heard and is certainly applicable to anyone who has suffered a great depth of trauma.
Granted the stories are vastly different, yet eerily similar.
My story spans over 30+ years. It's filled with unimaginable trauma. As I read through some of the brutality detailed in this book, I ached with reminiscent pains of what was once my reality. Flooding my mind were vivid memories of having hot motor oil poured into my ears or being bound to a freezing garage floor while my toenails were pulled off my feet.
Even though you survive, you don't walk away without being forever changed.
Since I barely knew anything about PTSD when I was diagnosed in 2007, I am amazed to read about it from 70 years ago. I'm not sure if they had a name for it, but it was all the same. Flashbacks. Nightmares. Spontaneous reaction to triggers. Self medicating.
In the book, Zamparini is able to move past his PTSD through spiritual conversion.
That isn't always the case. Being a Christian doesn't always immediately change who you are or the afflictions you have. Although, I believe you always strive to accurately rearrange your thinking.
I've spent the past few days thinking about my PTSD.
I'm not a prisoner to it. I used to be, but no more. Is it still there? Yes.
My PTSD is much improved, in fact most people wouldn't know I have it unless I told them. I tend to be honest with people who need to know or I am around often. It's best they know because I can be easily spooked, sending me into a flashback or causing me to take a swing.
This is improved. There was a time when I could barely leave my house. There was a time when flashbacks consumed my life and spent days stuck in rapid fire playback of my childhood. There were times when it brought on debilitating OCD and overwhelming rage.
I'm thankful those days have long past. In the last 18 months, I've been fortunate to only be triggered a few times. Usually extended time spent in any basement is my undoing. Although I know that and can still slowly work through healing with concentrated prayer and perseverance.
This book was an opportunity to take stock of how far I've come in regards to the PTSD and a healthy reminder that I did survive. I survived hell and PTSD has been the natural fall out from it. It's also served as a hope and expectation that one day, PTSD will no longer have a place in my life. It is a reminder of the promises God has made for wholeness.
Sunday, October 12, 2014
What's next?
So, are you wondering what might possibly be next?
Let me share with you the verse that has been in my heart, on my mind and at my fingertips for almost a year.
I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent among you. Joel 2:25
It's the first part. I will restore to you...
I wasn't sure what that would like. So, I prayed. I prayed and fasted and meditated.
The answer was coming, but I was ignoring it. It came in the form of more scripture.
But the one who does not know and does things deserving punishment will be beaten with few blows. From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. Luke 12:48
I fought that. Ignored it. Knew I was totally inadequate.
But the Lord didn't let me.
See, I've been given many gifts and talents. I've also been entrusted with a past and life that is ripe with the glory of God.
It soon became clear to me that I had one choice. Use it to glorify God.
I prayed and prayed more.
Let me tell you that after 6 solid years of counseling, you don't sit around and think that you could ever do what that person does. You don't believe for a second that you have it in you to walk through the darkest puts with anyone.
And maybe some people don't.
I believe I do. I. Fact, it doesn't feel like a choice. It is a calling. God has made it very clear. I am to use what I've learned and what I've lived to glorify Him by walking with people.
So what does that mean?
That means with a lot of prayer, we've decided to pursue a biblical counseling degree for me.
We aren't sure exactly what school, but the plan is to move forward for the next semester.
It looks like I'll be in school about two years.
We know this is a commitment. We know we will only be able to pay about half of each semester and will have to incur some loans.
We also know that I do not feel called to go into any secular office and make any money off this. We are prepared for this to be a training to help those who need it the most and have the least resources.
Hopefully over the next month I can nail down a program and make some final decision.
I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm ready to make sacrifices so that God can use me.
Let me share with you the verse that has been in my heart, on my mind and at my fingertips for almost a year.
I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten, the hopper, the destroyer, and the cutter, my great army, which I sent among you. Joel 2:25
It's the first part. I will restore to you...
I wasn't sure what that would like. So, I prayed. I prayed and fasted and meditated.
The answer was coming, but I was ignoring it. It came in the form of more scripture.
But the one who does not know and does things deserving punishment will be beaten with few blows. From everyone who has been given much, much will be demanded; and from the one who has been entrusted with much, much more will be asked. Luke 12:48
I fought that. Ignored it. Knew I was totally inadequate.
But the Lord didn't let me.
See, I've been given many gifts and talents. I've also been entrusted with a past and life that is ripe with the glory of God.
It soon became clear to me that I had one choice. Use it to glorify God.
I prayed and prayed more.
Let me tell you that after 6 solid years of counseling, you don't sit around and think that you could ever do what that person does. You don't believe for a second that you have it in you to walk through the darkest puts with anyone.
And maybe some people don't.
I believe I do. I. Fact, it doesn't feel like a choice. It is a calling. God has made it very clear. I am to use what I've learned and what I've lived to glorify Him by walking with people.
So what does that mean?
That means with a lot of prayer, we've decided to pursue a biblical counseling degree for me.
We aren't sure exactly what school, but the plan is to move forward for the next semester.
It looks like I'll be in school about two years.
We know this is a commitment. We know we will only be able to pay about half of each semester and will have to incur some loans.
We also know that I do not feel called to go into any secular office and make any money off this. We are prepared for this to be a training to help those who need it the most and have the least resources.
Hopefully over the next month I can nail down a program and make some final decision.
I'm scared. I'm excited. I'm ready to make sacrifices so that God can use me.
Saturday, October 11, 2014
Not My Forever
That's right, the blog's name.
In 2007, I walked right into counseling and was immediately in a dark place. The thing the counselor told me then and continued to tell me was that this was not my forever.
It didn't seem that way. I never thought I'd get out of that whole. I had to be told 100s of times and I'm still not sure I ever believed it. Until now.
If you know even the slightest bit of my past, you know it's a rough story. It reads like a Stephan King novel. If you've never walked with me through any of the part 7 years, there's a high probability that you wouldn't believe it.
My written testimony that I share is such a small portion. Teeny tiny. It doesn't include being raised in a satanic home, having dozens of abusers in and out of the family, the mess my past made of my marriage, drug and alcohol abuse or the graphic details of a tortured life that is my reality.
My psychologist once told me he was amazed I was sitting in his office. To help put things in perspective for me, he shared that my case was in his top two of complexity. He's seen 100s and 100s of patients in his 25+ years of practice. That's a perspective that won't let you minimize what you've survived.
The reason it was amazing is because statistically, I don't fit the mold. I should have been through one self inflicted trial after another with drugs, alcohol, jail, hospitals, marriages. Being married for 16 years with no vices was miraculous to him. I don't even put caffeine in my body.
I'm sitting here today, 7 short years after walking into church the first time as proof that God didn't want my past to be my forever. He didn't want the dark put to be my forever. He had better planned.
My past doesn't define me, but it is a part of who I am. If it defined me, I would be caught in that hopeless trap that the psychologist described.
Instead, it's strengthened who I am.
I am tough. No kidding, I have a high pain tolerance.
It's made me compassionate.
Even though I buckle at times, I can withstand a lot of emotional pain. I'm not easily angered and I don't hold grudges.
It's made me keep priorities in check. When you grow up like I did, you don't whine about meaningless things.
The list goes on.
I never believed this day would come. The day I was able to sit and soak in the glory of God and all He has shown me. All that He has done to make me see that was not my forever.
That day came a while back, but I often am in awe.
Abused, beaten, tortured, left for dead, mentally unstable, loneliness and deep depression. None of it was my forever. It wa my temporary while God restored and redeemed and grew me up.
In 2007, I walked right into counseling and was immediately in a dark place. The thing the counselor told me then and continued to tell me was that this was not my forever.
It didn't seem that way. I never thought I'd get out of that whole. I had to be told 100s of times and I'm still not sure I ever believed it. Until now.
If you know even the slightest bit of my past, you know it's a rough story. It reads like a Stephan King novel. If you've never walked with me through any of the part 7 years, there's a high probability that you wouldn't believe it.
My written testimony that I share is such a small portion. Teeny tiny. It doesn't include being raised in a satanic home, having dozens of abusers in and out of the family, the mess my past made of my marriage, drug and alcohol abuse or the graphic details of a tortured life that is my reality.
My psychologist once told me he was amazed I was sitting in his office. To help put things in perspective for me, he shared that my case was in his top two of complexity. He's seen 100s and 100s of patients in his 25+ years of practice. That's a perspective that won't let you minimize what you've survived.
The reason it was amazing is because statistically, I don't fit the mold. I should have been through one self inflicted trial after another with drugs, alcohol, jail, hospitals, marriages. Being married for 16 years with no vices was miraculous to him. I don't even put caffeine in my body.
I'm sitting here today, 7 short years after walking into church the first time as proof that God didn't want my past to be my forever. He didn't want the dark put to be my forever. He had better planned.
My past doesn't define me, but it is a part of who I am. If it defined me, I would be caught in that hopeless trap that the psychologist described.
Instead, it's strengthened who I am.
I am tough. No kidding, I have a high pain tolerance.
It's made me compassionate.
Even though I buckle at times, I can withstand a lot of emotional pain. I'm not easily angered and I don't hold grudges.
It's made me keep priorities in check. When you grow up like I did, you don't whine about meaningless things.
The list goes on.
I never believed this day would come. The day I was able to sit and soak in the glory of God and all He has shown me. All that He has done to make me see that was not my forever.
That day came a while back, but I often am in awe.
Abused, beaten, tortured, left for dead, mentally unstable, loneliness and deep depression. None of it was my forever. It wa my temporary while God restored and redeemed and grew me up.
Friday, October 10, 2014
Incredible Growth
Something else that has changed over the past year is my walk with Jesus.
Keep in mind that two years ago and beyond, I struggled with the bible.
I sat through sermons, barely able to listen or sit still. I had people try to do bible studies with me and I failed every time. I even had a dear sweet friend sit every week and read the bible with me, which I often say through in anger or didn't pay attention.
There was so much anger in me. I came out of a satanic home. My dad sold his soul to the devil, literally. He has a satanic cult bible. You don't come out of that heavy satanic influence and just suddenly start loving Jesus or reading the bible.
I'll tell you, you fight it every but of the way. You fight truth with lies because the lies have been bigger than you your entire life. You're angered by the bible and scripture. Inside, the spiritual battle rages. It's a fight of good versus evil, God versus satan. It's complete chaos and it manifests in very bad behavior.
That was me for five years. I felt like I was the dumb kid. I'd been a christian for five years and I knew so little. The chaos kept me from hearing. I lacked all confidence that I'd ever get it or that if ever be able to grab onto this thing called faith.
Thankfully, I had some awesome people who knew the score. They knew the spiritual battle and they were warriors who rallied around me. They were the ones who never let me go. There were others, but these three were on the front lines. They carried my husband and I through when we didn't have it in us to go a step further. I rarely mention names here. That's partially because none of the people would ever take credit. They'd give all glory to God. But Kandy, Dawson and Kim, we are forever thankful that you allowed God to work through you. We are thankful you never gave up.
As far as my spiritual life goes, I'd say you could describe the last 18 months as a growth spurt.
My prayer life has never been this active. I pray daily. And it's not just a quick, please God prayer. Although I still have those. I spend time talking with God about His will for my life. I ask the hard questions. I ask for Him to provide answers or people when I need them. I thank Him. Oh boy, do I praise Him.
When life is hard or I don't understand, I get on my knees. When I'm scared, I'm flat on my face. When I feel like He is far away, I fast.
And this timid, quiet, afraid to pray aloud Chica will praise my God aloud and pray to Him with or in front of anyone.
Another change, my confidence in biblical knowledge. I can't believe it, but all the effort that people put into me with scripture and bible study...it wasn't lost on me. I know stuff.
As I sat in bible study one night, I realized that I could answer every question that was being asked. Where was it coming from? I was a bible dumby. Soon, I started participating. Now, I have to be self aware so that I give others a chance to answer.
It's not just there. I can have conversation about things in the bible with people. I still feel behind, but not afraid. If I don't know, I'll go find it. If I have a question, I'll ask.
It's awesome to see the benefit of people not giving up.
I've also started to read again. Read the bible. Read books. Do bible studies by myself. That's been going on for about 18 months, but still exciting.
Yes, I've finally started to grow up. I'm not longer a baby. I still have a lot to learn but I'm no baby!
Keep in mind that two years ago and beyond, I struggled with the bible.
I sat through sermons, barely able to listen or sit still. I had people try to do bible studies with me and I failed every time. I even had a dear sweet friend sit every week and read the bible with me, which I often say through in anger or didn't pay attention.
There was so much anger in me. I came out of a satanic home. My dad sold his soul to the devil, literally. He has a satanic cult bible. You don't come out of that heavy satanic influence and just suddenly start loving Jesus or reading the bible.
I'll tell you, you fight it every but of the way. You fight truth with lies because the lies have been bigger than you your entire life. You're angered by the bible and scripture. Inside, the spiritual battle rages. It's a fight of good versus evil, God versus satan. It's complete chaos and it manifests in very bad behavior.
That was me for five years. I felt like I was the dumb kid. I'd been a christian for five years and I knew so little. The chaos kept me from hearing. I lacked all confidence that I'd ever get it or that if ever be able to grab onto this thing called faith.
Thankfully, I had some awesome people who knew the score. They knew the spiritual battle and they were warriors who rallied around me. They were the ones who never let me go. There were others, but these three were on the front lines. They carried my husband and I through when we didn't have it in us to go a step further. I rarely mention names here. That's partially because none of the people would ever take credit. They'd give all glory to God. But Kandy, Dawson and Kim, we are forever thankful that you allowed God to work through you. We are thankful you never gave up.
As far as my spiritual life goes, I'd say you could describe the last 18 months as a growth spurt.
My prayer life has never been this active. I pray daily. And it's not just a quick, please God prayer. Although I still have those. I spend time talking with God about His will for my life. I ask the hard questions. I ask for Him to provide answers or people when I need them. I thank Him. Oh boy, do I praise Him.
When life is hard or I don't understand, I get on my knees. When I'm scared, I'm flat on my face. When I feel like He is far away, I fast.
And this timid, quiet, afraid to pray aloud Chica will praise my God aloud and pray to Him with or in front of anyone.
Another change, my confidence in biblical knowledge. I can't believe it, but all the effort that people put into me with scripture and bible study...it wasn't lost on me. I know stuff.
As I sat in bible study one night, I realized that I could answer every question that was being asked. Where was it coming from? I was a bible dumby. Soon, I started participating. Now, I have to be self aware so that I give others a chance to answer.
It's not just there. I can have conversation about things in the bible with people. I still feel behind, but not afraid. If I don't know, I'll go find it. If I have a question, I'll ask.
It's awesome to see the benefit of people not giving up.
I've also started to read again. Read the bible. Read books. Do bible studies by myself. That's been going on for about 18 months, but still exciting.
Yes, I've finally started to grow up. I'm not longer a baby. I still have a lot to learn but I'm no baby!
Thursday, October 9, 2014
Incredible Healing
There has been an amazing amount of healing over the past year.
Albeit hard, leaving my first church was the first step. I still have friend there and we just choose not to talk about it.
For me, it was toxic. I had come to a point where I wasn't going to grow and there was no joy in serving. I don't need to enumerate all of the things that happened, just know they did. I also must say that when you reach a point in a church when you can't muster even the slightest bit if respect for the pastor, then your time is up.
Beyond that, this move has brought my husband and I closer together than ever before. I had to step up and care for him more than ever too. It gave me a new respect for marriage and our vows. It was the first time we've ever gone through a tough time that I never threatened to leave. I stood firm and vowed to fight for my husband and his well being.
Now let's get down to the most notable healing.
I've never in my life been too far away from my family. Two hours max. I was always within driving distance. Always within harassing distance. Always within abusing distance.
Guess what? A lot changes when you are approximately 766 miles or nearly 13 hours away from the man who has literally had control in your life for over 39 years.
I'm finally safe. For the first time in my life, I am safely tucked away in Ohio ans far, far away from my parents. Let me repeat...I no longer have to fear them.
There is a lot of natural healing that just came. I didn't need to talk through it. It didn't take weeks of working through this memory or that. It came as a big sigh the first time I explained that my family was over 700 miles away.
The house we sold, was never a safe place. My dad, my mom, one of my brothers, they all did horrific things to me in that house. I didn't go into the basement for over 10 years. If I did, I quickly lost control to the flashbacks that to over.
I was physically attacked at gunpoint on my block. I don't have a lot of memories of this, but it happened a few years ago.
We left behind all the trauma.
Let me say it again cause it's so damn freeing. I. AM. SAFE. HERE.
Yes, I'll still make contact with a counselor. I know with a history as extensive as mine, there are going to be things that come up. There will be things that trigger me. There will be times when life is hard. There will be holidays and birthdays that remind me of the choice I had to make and the feelings of abandonment or loneliness. I'm wise to that. I know that for my own well being, I'll need that.
I don't think I'm quite ready to head back to work. I still struggled with driving. I really only drive to doctor appointments, the grocery store, the library or church. I still fight insomnia and that tends to make me not reliable. However, those things are improving. I hope soon, I'll not deal with any of those things.
So that is a basic update of the general mental state. It'd be really unfair to judge my mental status by what you read here. This is my cry out to Jesus forum and often its not a fair indication of how things really are.
Albeit hard, leaving my first church was the first step. I still have friend there and we just choose not to talk about it.
For me, it was toxic. I had come to a point where I wasn't going to grow and there was no joy in serving. I don't need to enumerate all of the things that happened, just know they did. I also must say that when you reach a point in a church when you can't muster even the slightest bit if respect for the pastor, then your time is up.
Beyond that, this move has brought my husband and I closer together than ever before. I had to step up and care for him more than ever too. It gave me a new respect for marriage and our vows. It was the first time we've ever gone through a tough time that I never threatened to leave. I stood firm and vowed to fight for my husband and his well being.
Now let's get down to the most notable healing.
I've never in my life been too far away from my family. Two hours max. I was always within driving distance. Always within harassing distance. Always within abusing distance.
Guess what? A lot changes when you are approximately 766 miles or nearly 13 hours away from the man who has literally had control in your life for over 39 years.
I'm finally safe. For the first time in my life, I am safely tucked away in Ohio ans far, far away from my parents. Let me repeat...I no longer have to fear them.
There is a lot of natural healing that just came. I didn't need to talk through it. It didn't take weeks of working through this memory or that. It came as a big sigh the first time I explained that my family was over 700 miles away.
The house we sold, was never a safe place. My dad, my mom, one of my brothers, they all did horrific things to me in that house. I didn't go into the basement for over 10 years. If I did, I quickly lost control to the flashbacks that to over.
I was physically attacked at gunpoint on my block. I don't have a lot of memories of this, but it happened a few years ago.
We left behind all the trauma.
Let me say it again cause it's so damn freeing. I. AM. SAFE. HERE.
Yes, I'll still make contact with a counselor. I know with a history as extensive as mine, there are going to be things that come up. There will be things that trigger me. There will be times when life is hard. There will be holidays and birthdays that remind me of the choice I had to make and the feelings of abandonment or loneliness. I'm wise to that. I know that for my own well being, I'll need that.
I don't think I'm quite ready to head back to work. I still struggled with driving. I really only drive to doctor appointments, the grocery store, the library or church. I still fight insomnia and that tends to make me not reliable. However, those things are improving. I hope soon, I'll not deal with any of those things.
So that is a basic update of the general mental state. It'd be really unfair to judge my mental status by what you read here. This is my cry out to Jesus forum and often its not a fair indication of how things really are.
Wednesday, October 8, 2014
No Help
So, onto what happened long before getting sick.
We agreed before moving that it was time for me to go back to school. The plan was to get the last of my hours and take less than a year to graduate with a business degree.
I have lots of business experience. It comes easy for me and naturally. Easy choice.
Because I was so sick and the house hadn't sold, I knew I'd miss the fall semester enrollment. No biggie. Just delayed.
From the time we found out we had to move to the day the house sold, my husband went into a severe depression.
It was more than everyday depression. Most of his days, he struggled to function at work. At home, he was moody, hateful and completely shut down. He cried over everything and barely spoke to anyone.
I watched helplessly as his mental well being slipped away. I often found my love and care balanced with fear. I was fearful he would hurt himself or both of us. If I'd ask, he denied it. But I knew because I had been where he was. I knew.
When he sat in our bedroom this summer and admitted he'd considered suicide, I knew it was time he get help.
His family doctor here had helped manage his meds and had gotten him in toxic with the mental health center here. The problem? It was May and they told him that he would be on a wait list for both a psychiatrist and counselor until November or December.
Are you flipping kidding me?
So while he waited and got worse, I asked our pastor about local counseling. Honestly, we'd preder christian and not secular. Poor guy, that's the first communication he gets from me. I asked about counseling and discipleship. Nothing! There was nothing. Thankfully, the pastor was able to talk with him and it helped him to know someone cared and was praying.
Then there's me. Sick. Then grieving. I too call all over the area for counseling. It was clear that unless I had a substance problem or was a newly released criminal, I wasn't getting help.
I got on the wait list at the mental health center. Since I was not doctor referred, my wait time would be longer. It will be late spring or early summer 2015 for me.
Again, thankfully our pastor took on my grief and very emotionally charged bible questions.
I have two major medical insurances. I have a history of mental health need. And there was nothing for me within an hour of my house. I needed help and couldn't get it.
This area we live in is filled with people like us. They are broken. They are hurting. A lot live in poverty. It's a very depressed area. The economy has knocked many of these people down and life keeps kicking them. A lot are uninsured and unemployed. Jobs are tough to find in the nearby areas.
There's nobody here to help them. Nobody! Nobody to listen to their hearts and nobody to point them in any other direction beside their all too familiar ways of coping and self medicating.
My heart is breaking for these people. My heart knows there's a better way. My heart feels the call to show them that they don't have to walk through this life alone. My heart loves them.
We agreed before moving that it was time for me to go back to school. The plan was to get the last of my hours and take less than a year to graduate with a business degree.
I have lots of business experience. It comes easy for me and naturally. Easy choice.
Because I was so sick and the house hadn't sold, I knew I'd miss the fall semester enrollment. No biggie. Just delayed.
From the time we found out we had to move to the day the house sold, my husband went into a severe depression.
It was more than everyday depression. Most of his days, he struggled to function at work. At home, he was moody, hateful and completely shut down. He cried over everything and barely spoke to anyone.
I watched helplessly as his mental well being slipped away. I often found my love and care balanced with fear. I was fearful he would hurt himself or both of us. If I'd ask, he denied it. But I knew because I had been where he was. I knew.
When he sat in our bedroom this summer and admitted he'd considered suicide, I knew it was time he get help.
His family doctor here had helped manage his meds and had gotten him in toxic with the mental health center here. The problem? It was May and they told him that he would be on a wait list for both a psychiatrist and counselor until November or December.
Are you flipping kidding me?
So while he waited and got worse, I asked our pastor about local counseling. Honestly, we'd preder christian and not secular. Poor guy, that's the first communication he gets from me. I asked about counseling and discipleship. Nothing! There was nothing. Thankfully, the pastor was able to talk with him and it helped him to know someone cared and was praying.
Then there's me. Sick. Then grieving. I too call all over the area for counseling. It was clear that unless I had a substance problem or was a newly released criminal, I wasn't getting help.
I got on the wait list at the mental health center. Since I was not doctor referred, my wait time would be longer. It will be late spring or early summer 2015 for me.
Again, thankfully our pastor took on my grief and very emotionally charged bible questions.
I have two major medical insurances. I have a history of mental health need. And there was nothing for me within an hour of my house. I needed help and couldn't get it.
This area we live in is filled with people like us. They are broken. They are hurting. A lot live in poverty. It's a very depressed area. The economy has knocked many of these people down and life keeps kicking them. A lot are uninsured and unemployed. Jobs are tough to find in the nearby areas.
There's nobody here to help them. Nobody! Nobody to listen to their hearts and nobody to point them in any other direction beside their all too familiar ways of coping and self medicating.
My heart is breaking for these people. My heart knows there's a better way. My heart feels the call to show them that they don't have to walk through this life alone. My heart loves them.
Tuesday, October 7, 2014
The Harvest
I've never lived in a farming community. Never lived in the country. So this season is all new to me.
Yes, it's fall but it's harvest time.
Things are different.
Right now the farmers are harvesting soybeans and corn.
Keep in mind that I am getting an education. My husband had to explain why the crops had to "die" before they were ready.
I'm fascinated by all of this. In fact, I've patiently waited for the fields to be filled with combines and tractors.
We have fields behind our house and in every direction from our house.
I often drive through our one stoplight town going on errands or to the library. On a normal day, I might see 1, maybe 2 cars, on the road. Right now, it's busy. Semis, farm equipment, it's everywhere.
Everyone either has farming in their family or knows someone who does.
It's a time of concentrated busyness and excitement as I hear people talk about it.
For me, it's a time to reflect on growth. It's a time to consider my community and pray for them. It's a time to appreciate farmers who are taken for granted as they are the practical means to so many of our basic products.
I'm thankful for the opportunity to be where I am at right now and my ever growing perspective on life and living.
Yes, it's fall but it's harvest time.
Things are different.
Right now the farmers are harvesting soybeans and corn.
Keep in mind that I am getting an education. My husband had to explain why the crops had to "die" before they were ready.
I'm fascinated by all of this. In fact, I've patiently waited for the fields to be filled with combines and tractors.
We have fields behind our house and in every direction from our house.
I often drive through our one stoplight town going on errands or to the library. On a normal day, I might see 1, maybe 2 cars, on the road. Right now, it's busy. Semis, farm equipment, it's everywhere.
Everyone either has farming in their family or knows someone who does.
It's a time of concentrated busyness and excitement as I hear people talk about it.
For me, it's a time to reflect on growth. It's a time to consider my community and pray for them. It's a time to appreciate farmers who are taken for granted as they are the practical means to so many of our basic products.
I'm thankful for the opportunity to be where I am at right now and my ever growing perspective on life and living.
Pre Surgery
I want to start laying out something that's been on my heart for several months, something I feel called to do.
The best way to explain is to lay out the events that led to the revelation.
That month between August 4 and September 3 was probably the sickest I have ever been in my life.
I was literally bleeding to death slowly and didn't know it.
My hemoglobin dropped from 10.1 to 6.9 in that time. My heart worked extra hard to get oxygen into my body. My body temp slowly dropped to dangerously low points.
I was tired all the time. I would sleep 8-10 hours every night and then take a 1-2 hour nap in the morning and a 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon. When I was awake, I could barely keep my eyes open.
I couldn't walk across the house without getting winded. Doing anything, cleaning, laundry, taking a shower left me struggling to breathe and so tired I had to rest.
I froze. I've always been hot. I barely wore coats in winter. But during the hottest part of summer, I was in sweats and long sleeves. At night I was so cold, I'd snuggle up to my husband and add three blankets to my side of the bed. If I had to get up, I would shake and shiver for 30 minutes before getting warm.
I didn't leave the house. I didn't go to church, no bible study. I didn't even go to the store much and rarely alone. I was dizzy a lot and rarely drove.
The physical part was tough and probably a good sign that I was sick.
It was the mental part that really shook me.
Being down that long took a toll on me. I felt like I was going to die. I was weak in all ways with no answers or belief it would improve. I stood in our garden with my husband and told him something serious was wrong. I begged him to not let me die here.
Toward the end of that month, I started to hallucinate. It started with seeing animals, like cats, that weren't really there.
By the last week before surgery, they had gotten far more detailed. They felt like dreams, but my husband would often speak to me and I'd know I wasn't sleeping.
A lot of them involved this vision of Jesus that was always fixing or caring for something.
The day of surgery, we left for the hospital just after 5 am. All the way to the hospital, I watched two giant men walking in front of us with a child swinging between them. The men were dressed in brown and the child had a blue sweater on and a knit hat.
I told my husband about it afterward. He was sweet, but did say there was nothing there.
After being so sick, my perspective on many things has changed. The doctor said that the surgery saved my life and I believe that.
Before I got so sick, there were several changes in my life that I had felt led to to make. Change is hard and some of them would be hard. I put them as far out of my mind as I could because I just didn't want to make the sacrifices and hard choices. However, this experiences has brought them back front and center in my life. I'd no longer have an excuse. I'd no longer be able to ignore these things that were so heavy on my heart.
So that's where I'm at today. Not ignoring what I already knew.
The best way to explain is to lay out the events that led to the revelation.
That month between August 4 and September 3 was probably the sickest I have ever been in my life.
I was literally bleeding to death slowly and didn't know it.
My hemoglobin dropped from 10.1 to 6.9 in that time. My heart worked extra hard to get oxygen into my body. My body temp slowly dropped to dangerously low points.
I was tired all the time. I would sleep 8-10 hours every night and then take a 1-2 hour nap in the morning and a 2-3 hour nap in the afternoon. When I was awake, I could barely keep my eyes open.
I couldn't walk across the house without getting winded. Doing anything, cleaning, laundry, taking a shower left me struggling to breathe and so tired I had to rest.
I froze. I've always been hot. I barely wore coats in winter. But during the hottest part of summer, I was in sweats and long sleeves. At night I was so cold, I'd snuggle up to my husband and add three blankets to my side of the bed. If I had to get up, I would shake and shiver for 30 minutes before getting warm.
I didn't leave the house. I didn't go to church, no bible study. I didn't even go to the store much and rarely alone. I was dizzy a lot and rarely drove.
The physical part was tough and probably a good sign that I was sick.
It was the mental part that really shook me.
Being down that long took a toll on me. I felt like I was going to die. I was weak in all ways with no answers or belief it would improve. I stood in our garden with my husband and told him something serious was wrong. I begged him to not let me die here.
Toward the end of that month, I started to hallucinate. It started with seeing animals, like cats, that weren't really there.
By the last week before surgery, they had gotten far more detailed. They felt like dreams, but my husband would often speak to me and I'd know I wasn't sleeping.
A lot of them involved this vision of Jesus that was always fixing or caring for something.
The day of surgery, we left for the hospital just after 5 am. All the way to the hospital, I watched two giant men walking in front of us with a child swinging between them. The men were dressed in brown and the child had a blue sweater on and a knit hat.
I told my husband about it afterward. He was sweet, but did say there was nothing there.
After being so sick, my perspective on many things has changed. The doctor said that the surgery saved my life and I believe that.
Before I got so sick, there were several changes in my life that I had felt led to to make. Change is hard and some of them would be hard. I put them as far out of my mind as I could because I just didn't want to make the sacrifices and hard choices. However, this experiences has brought them back front and center in my life. I'd no longer have an excuse. I'd no longer be able to ignore these things that were so heavy on my heart.
So that's where I'm at today. Not ignoring what I already knew.
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