Spring Break

On Wednesday, I finished my last few assignments of this term. I'm officially on spring break. It's crazy to think that at 39 years old, I'm excited for spring break. My course load has been intense and busy. I'm ready for a break. I want to cherish this time because my next break doesn't come until October.

Spring break is still relatively new to me. When I was in school, we didn't have spring break. We got out for all the bank holidays, but never had a full week off. Most of our bank holidays after Christmas were used for snow days. We started after Labor Day and finished before Memorial Day. Things were so much simpler then, but our tiny school wasn't yet on board with spring break. They did implement it two years after I graduates.

In college, I had spring breaks but not really. I was supporting myself by working multiple jobs. The only time I did anything for spring break was one Friday, my roommate and I went to a ranch and ride horses.

So I'm a bit excited to be celebrating spring break with my husband and looking forward to some down time with him.

It is bittersweet. The past three years, I've had my niece, nephew or combo of the two over their spring break. We never did much more than hang out in KC or go to Branson. I loved the time with them. Last year, we took had them in KC where we went to the Presidential museum and visited local attractions. We ended the week with a trip to Branson. We all had a blast. It was the best time with them that we'd ever had.

In a perfect world, I could have dreamed of having them come here for spring break. But the world isn't perfect and this year is different. I no longer have access to them and have no clue what they are doing. My heart wants them here so badly, but my head knows there has not been enough time or healing.

I miss them. I'm sad that this year has to be different.

We will go and explore a new area. We will cherish our time together. I'll be mindful of the wonderful memories created in the past. I'll pray for God to work in miraculous ways in my family and pray that they know I love them.

Not Fighting for Joy

There is about 30 minutes worth of work left to do on this term of classes. I couldn't be happier about that. Unless I bomb the last few assignments in my counseling class, I should finish with 2 As and a B. I'm proud of that B in psychology. I fought hard for it, but I'll still beat myself up over not getting an A.

It has been a long eight weeks. There's joy for me in this place. There are only 3 1/2 semesters standing between me and becoming the first person in my estranged family to graduate from college. Yes, I had far more than enough credits to have a degree already but they were scattered among schools and never transferred to my advantage. When I graduate, I will have a bachelor and a half worth of credit hours. Crazy!

This week is a down week and probably one of the best I've had recently. The weather has been miserable. I feel miserable. My Bell's is finally at its most manageable point. There is a section of my mouth and cheek where I still don't have much control and I still have some significant pain that I am told can last six months. This weather has wreaked havoc on my sinuses and ears, so often feel like I'm in a hole. While I love snow so much, I am more than ready for spring and summer this year.

There is still joy in this week and I haven't had to fight for it. Despite the nasty weather, it was time for spring inside the house. I packed away all the snowmen for the next eight months. With the change over comes deep cleaning. I love having a clean house that smells clean and looks fresh.

When our stuff arrived in May last year, I decorated for summer. When I packed up my winter snowmen last year, my spring decorations had to stay packed away. It was all part of minimizing what we had in the house and depersonalizing it as it went on the market. It was wonderful to be able to get them out and put them in this house. I feel like I got to do something I missed out on last year and it was good!

We are coming up on so many anniversaries, reminders of change and emotional milestones. I know recently my emotional state has been quite negative toward this past year. I'm thankful for the timing of these reminders. None of them negate how difficult the past year has been, but they serve as opportunities to praise God.

Before we knew we had to move, things were getting tough for us. Our house was ok, but had some issues that we had ignored. Our finances had some issues that we had ignored. Our relationship had issues that we had ignored. This move forced us to deal with all three and we are better for it.

We both agree that our KC home will always be our first, but we love this home here. We are slowly fixing what the last owners failed to disclose or destroyed. We think it is beautiful and perfect for us.

We would also agree that our communication has improved tremendously, which in turn has improved our finances. The move forced us to communicate and it forced us to deal with that house. We were way underwater on that house and needed to get out of it. Now, we have one home, one mortgage and actually have equity. We wouldn't be in this position if it weren't for the move.

It was nothing either of us did or wanted to do to make any of those changes. That is why it is so easy for us to look back and praise God. His plan was bigger and better than we could have imagined. It doesn't mean the path hasn't been painful, it has. But we can praise Him anyway.

As I close and head back to cleaning, I can't help but think about the joy I am finding in worship music this week.

I haven't been listening to music much lately and when I do, it has been something other than Christian. As I listen to it now, I can't help but consider how I have veered off course a lot lately. I have fallen into traps of the world, satan and my flesh. I'd forgotten how much I value to worship. I had turned a deaf ear to the music that speaks to my heart. Singing has always been a love of mine and I hadn't sung in months.

I don't know that any of it changes where I am at with church right now. But I certainly recognize the tug of war. This probably deserves a post all of its own, but I think the fight to stay in church is even harder when you come out of a satan worshipping background. Not that there is a desire to go back to it, that's not the case. It works much more innocently in not believing you belong on either side and are stuck in the middle. I feel tugged both directions and so the spiritual warfare continues. However, I can say that definitely feel God tugging harder right now, reminding me of all He has done. I am thankful for that.

Unexpected Encouragement

Yesterday, I found encouragement in the strangest of places. We met our new tax guy. He's an older guy with kids, grandkids and great-grandkid. He's also quite the talker.

He had some obvious information about us because of our taxes. He knew we had moved about 10 months ago from a bigger city. We hadn't shared how different it was nor how hard the past year had been. I certainly didn't tell him that I have struggled to fit in.

He also had made the long trek across many states to move to Ohio many, many years ago. I can't remember if it was 36 or 47, but it was a lot of years ago. He has a well-known tax business and has served in many areas of the community. But, something he said spoke volumes to me.

Completely unsolicited, he said he still feels like an outsider. Really? REALLY? That was my response. He's been here so long and been an active member of the community. And he still feels like an outsider?

Yes! He said that if you weren't born here, you are forever an outsider.

So, a couple points I took in right in that moment. I'm NOT crazy! The way I feel isn't exclusive to just me. It's NOT just a woman thing. This was a man saying exactly what I have thought and felt.

Probably most important, there are ways to live happily in spite of being an outsider. This man has done it for a long time. This area has become his home and he has developed long-lasting, meaningful relationships or acquaintances with many, many people. That was awesome for me to see.

I didn't ask, but I think it is probably a safe assumption that he felt even more like an outsider in those early years of being here. I think maybe alien is more appropriate than outsider.

Hearing him talk was incredibly validating. Again, completely unsolicited, he went on to talk about how very different the people are here than in other parts of the US. People here are different than those just one state away. It's not a bad thing. Quite the opposite. People here are friendly in a way that is uncommon to everywhere outside of here.

That doesn't mean there is not ugliness. My general experience has been that the majority struggle at least a little bit with getting to know outsiders. I've said in previous posts, I get that. I would be the same way and have been at times.

This tax guy had no clue he was speaking directly to my heart and fears. He had no idea that I would walk away feeling encouraged.

The most important thing I walked away from his office with was a reminder to not take for granted those who don't treat us as outsiders.

This past year has been hard. Honestly, it hasn't been an accurate picture of who we are. It is a picture of who we are under immense stress, dealing with unexpected pain and adapting to something we have never experienced. The people who have met us probably haven't gotten a fair idea of who we really are. We haven't shown them who we are. We haven't been able to show them.

As things improve, we start regulate and get back to who we really are. Changed, but more like what we were 14 months ago and beyond. The problem is that we can't change first impressions or the opinions people have developed of us while we were in intense situations. Very few people have been persistent in seeing what was underneath all the stress and crap that was at the surface. I'm thankful for that. I am thankful for the few people who have handled us with grace and mercy and understood we aren't what the last year has brought out of us.

I wish I could change the others or their opinions. I can't. I can't change anyone but me. I can pray and I do.

I do still hold onto a tiny bit of hope that I can live happily here, even as an outsider. Maybe has the cold, harsh winter fades away, spring will bring more hope for that.

We are Similar

My husband may not possess much finesse when he talks through issues with me, but he has learned how to make me think. He doesn't understand my need to isolate, but a recent conversation made me think through it more.

He might not understand it, but he is much the same way. We both handle painful things in three ways.

When there are small things, we both confront them. These are usually the times when offenses come in the form of misunderstandings or a desire to understand. If someone says something we don't understand and could be construed as offensive, it's not difficult to go to that person and ask for an explanation or offer an apology or grace.

Then there are the deeply personal and hurtful things. These are usually the things done or said in high emotion either by us or others. With these things, we both internalize them. The emotion usually overwhelms at first and decreases over time. We usually end up letting it go. This is usually the way we hurt each other. Both of us will either let it go or wait until the emotion has decreased enough to talk about it or it spurs us to a huge fight. With others, we usually let it go over time and things are as if nothing ever happened. I suppose we naturally allow forgiveness and move on.

The third and probably the hardest are the things we just don't know how to deal with, so we choose to avoid them. This is usually driven by deeply painful things too, things we can't control like other people and circumstances.

Probably the most difficult thing in my husband's life is his mom's health. It's probably the most painful thing he's ever had in his life. He can't control anything. His mom having ALZ means he has emotionally and mentally lost her and he has slowly watch her body die over many years. I have lost family members and friends in tragic accidents, suicide and illness. My perception and opinion is that watching someone slowly die with ALZ is by far the most difficult. The loss is constant and happens repeatedly.

The way he copes is to avoid. He avoids because he is helpless to change a hopeless situation. He calls his dad once a week and usually with a reminder from me. He doesn't regularly communicate with his siblings. Before we moved, we were only averaging about 2-3 trips back to his home town per year and we only lived 2 hours away. I have encouraged him to plan a trip home by himself and flying. He has yet to do it. It isn't because he doesn't love them, but he avoids the pain and avoids what he can't change.

I am exactly the same way. Right now, there are several difficult situations that I can't change. I can't change how people treat or perceive or shun me. I can't change my location. I am at a point where I don't know what to do. I don't want to put myself in those situations where I walk away feeling hurt or deflated. So, I avoid. I stay at home. I isolate. I feel helpless in a hopeless situation. I don't have a clue what to do to change any of it.

During our conversation the other night, I finally acknowledged that. When things become so big that I can't address it and I can't change it, I avoid it completely. It's a terrible cycle. In social settings, I feel lonely and unhappy, so I isolate and feel lonely and unhappy.

There's no huge epiphany here. It is interesting to understand we both handle hurt in similar ways. It's also interesting that we rarely have an understanding of the other person's behavior when we do much the same.

Major Change - Again

Since starting school, I definitely have required more sleep. Having my head buried in books all day makes me tired. When I did nothing all day, it was no big deal to sleep 5-6 hours. After joking with my husband that I was going to start sleeping till noon like a student, I thought it was funny that I did start sleeping 8-9 hours.

I suppose since I didn't start sleeping till noon, I had to be a typical student in other ways. Since starting this process, I have officially changed my major three times. Yesterday was my final change.

The ultimate goal is to be a lay counselor in a christian setting with no expectations of being paid. I want to be educated enough to lead/teach in women's ministries and have a firm foundation for discipleship.

My school offers two counseling programs, one with emphasis on psychology and the other on religion. I have waffled back and forth. In dealing with the hurting, teaching or just walking through life with people, it's important to me to have an understanding of the science behind behavior. I believe understanding allows for a deeper compassion and an ease in offering grace. Religion is of equal importance. Whether walking with a hurting person or friend, I want to point them back to Christ. I want to be well equipped to present Christ as the healer for the lost person who has no hope.

I began this semester with psychology and intro to counseling. Both were a struggle and I questioned my choice, even though I have felt led by God through the entire process. I felt inept and like a failure. In my three classes, I started out with near failing grades. Through time and prayer and grace, I realized that my downfall was not having been in school for 16 years and never taking an online course. It wasn't that I failed with the content, it was the learning curve and impatience on my part.

The other struggle for me was having classes taught from a scientific or worldview and not with a biblical worldview. I chose a christian school so my education would be steeped in biblical truth. That's the reason for paying private school tuition, which is double state university tuition.

Once I adapted and learned and prayed, it all began to get easier. However, I still struggled with the programs and which was best. Going with religion gave me no psychology and vice versa.

Yesterday, I talked with my adviser. Thankfully, he had a solution. He set me up with an interdisciplinary degree. My degree is now Religion/Psychology - Christian counseling. The bonus of this is that more of my transfer credits fit into actual useful categories and reduced the number of courses I would need to take. This allows me to focus my attention on religion and psychology and counseling.

The best news in this change is that it lowered my required classes from 22 to 16, because of how my credits transferred. Having only 16 classes remaining, it allows me to safely plan for graduation in May 2016. As long as I do not fail any classes, I will be able to take 15 hours per semester and either 18 one semester or tack on a J term at the end of this year.

It is a little crazy to think that my life is dedicated to school for the next 15 months. I get a spring break and fall break and another spring break next year. That's it. My terms and semesters are back to back or even overlap a few days. Busyness and focus now will allow me to finish in the time frame I would like.

I am already looking forward to our trip to Virginia next May and receiving my diploma.

I miss the way she loved them.

This weekend made me miss my mother-in-law. I haven't given much of an update on her lately because there is nothing new, nothing good. She is locked in a constant state of not knowing who people are and has no recollection of her life past childhood. Her ability to take care of personal hygiene continues to decline and she is currently in physical therapy because she has lost muscle tone. She sleeps or sits in a recliner most of the day and her husband continues to not understand. That is the way it has been for over a year and the way it will be until her death. There is no hope of improvement.

The family dynamic itself has forever changed. Nobody has the ability or desire to assume the role of head communicator and one who holds the family together. Communication amongst the family is dysfunctional at best and the emotions are mostly negative.

I spent a good deal of Saturday and Sunday praying for my brother-in-law. A phone call to my husband Saturday from his other brother indicated nobody had talked with the brother for over two weeks.

My father-in-law absolutely sucks with communication. Unfortunately, he is the only who regularly communicates with this brother. Nobody seemed concerned about the change in behavior or about his safety. One of the reasons is that nobody really gets the number of risk factors in this brother's life, the things that should raise red flags when nobody hears from him for two weeks.

He is an intelligent, highly educated man who has gone way off course. Prior to his divorce, he had the life he wanted. He had a beautiful home, wonderful job, well-rounded wife and happy little boy. The problem was he had a drinking problem to go along with it.

So now, life looks much different. He has bounced around jobs and private contracting as he just couldn't "work for the man." He has gone years without health insurance or steady income. His ex wife hates him and treats him poorly. Recently, he lost visitation rights with his son, the only thing that meant anything to him. He has been hateful to all three of his siblings, forcing distance between all of them and leaving him very alone. He is in a position where he cannot support his home and may be behind on child support. He has tapped out everyone in the family financially and likely cannot find any more help. He suffers from depression and OCD, but is not medicated and does receive any help. He self medicates with heavy drinking.

That's a whole bunch of red flags. Anyone with this long list of risk factors needs to be checked on if they aren't heard from in two weeks.

It is crazy, I know, but nobody seemed concerned enough to check further. After no return phone calls, it took text messages threatening to send police to the house to check before he finally responded that he was indeed alive.

It was a scary 24 hours. It made me miss their mom. She wouldn't have let that go. She would have driven to his house until she knew he was ok if he hadn't responded after a couple days. It made me miss this family that has fallen apart.

My mother-in-law was never very warm or welcoming with me, but she was with her kids. Unfortunately, the way she treated me is what she passed on to her kids. Her legacy has become this family who does not know how to love each other or how to communicate. Her legacy of caring didn't get passed on to her kids and it makes me sad.

ALZ is hard to wrap your head around. We heard Glenn Campbell's song he wrote about having ALZ the other night for the first time. It is awesome that sometimes people live with this disease and have times of clarity enough to understand what is happening. It allows those around some insight into what is happening, how it works and gives a little slower decent into nothingness. We didn't have that opportunity with my husband's mom. She showed signs in November, was diagnosed in February and couldn't call her children/grandchildren by name within two months.

She may have had moments of clarity but they were extremely few and far between and were incredibly brief. That was three years ago. She's been locked away inside her body, lost to all of us for three years.

Within the family, I'm not really allowed any feelings of loss with her and I'm not allowed an opinion. They don't consider me part of the family. They know she didn't like me and treated me poorly and they continue that part of her legacy.

Despite what they think, I do miss her. My heart aches that we can see her but we are nothing to her. She has been a part of my life for nearly 20 years. Even if she didn't like me and never treated me very well, she has been in my life. It is a loss for me.

Even more, it's a loss for my husband. I feel the loss through him. My heart aches the most for him.

All I can do is pray for all of them. There is nothing else that can be done. I can pray that they will eventually live out the legacy that she would have wanted them to, the one where they love each other as much as she loved them.

Cabin Fever

We woke up to snow again. I'm loving all the snow we have gotten this week. It makes me happy. Watching giant flakes falling from the sky perks me up on the dimmest days. The ugly brown grass is hidden by a blanket of pure bliss. My little cockapoo begs to play and bites at the flakes that float in front of her. It's a beautiful Saturday morning.

Yesterday morning, it was -19 when my husband got to work with a -32 windchill. He came home to 19 degrees and a nearly 40 degree swing. I spent most of the day sitting with my head in my hands and a massive migraine. It was nearly 70 degrees less than two weeks ago and we have one front after another coming through. We've both had constant headaches.

This has been the coldest winter we've ever experienced. It's been a bit crazy. We watch the temps back home and they are always 15-30 degrees warmer.

Since getting sick last year, it's a fight to stay warm. That's so unusual for me. I wore shorts until it was under 40 degrees. Now, I'm cold at 70 degrees with sweats, tshirt and hoodie. It continues to improve but doctors and nurses have said this maybe my new normal. My feet may not thaw until summer.

While I love the snow, I'm ready for spring. I'm excited for flowers and open windows, sitting on the deck and enjoying our Saturday evenings in the hot tub. I'm ready for walks down the road with the dogs.

I can't ever remember a time when I've been so ready for spring. I love winter, but am no longer a fan of the cold. I'll never be one of those people who whines about winter being too long, but I might join the masses who anxiously await springs arrival.

I write for me and God loves me anyway

A few days ago, I thought completely separating myself from this blog and social media was the right thing to do. Then sub zero temps and snow had me homebound with nothing to do. Well, almost nothing. After getting caught up on school work, I spent hours listening to worship music, praying and probably a little time weeping and maybe some time wrestling with my feelings and thoughts.

Earlier this week, I had someone I care about let me know they had been offended by a post I'd written. While the issue was based on a misunderstanding, it has pushed me to think through a few things in my life.

There's probably a few things that need to be said about this blog. Out of the 100s of people who read daily, I only know a handful by name. Out of that handful, I don't think about them when I write. I don't consider who is reading. However, I do not write negatively about people I have healthy relationships with at all. The reason, I would much rather be honest directly with them if I have a problem with them.

When I write, I write for me. This is my space to empty my head. Without it, I would implode and turn to self destructive behavior. The most important thing to know about this is that I am honest. In this blog, you see the darkest parts of my heart. They aren't pretty, but it's honest and who I am. That is also why you will see me wrestle with faith and sin and hurt. It's the ugliest parts in the process of sanctification. But I put them out there, knowing it makes me vulnerable. I'll never tell anyone I am perfect. In fact, I say all the time I'm not. There will be things I post on here that will show my imperfections and how far I have to go in this process. It's still so far from where I started and I have to acknowledge that.

If you are a regular reader, I'd ask that you consider what I've said. I don't write to insult or offend anyone even though I know things written with strong compassion and high emotion can come across offensive. I never intentionally want to offend or hurt anyone. I take it very personally when I have. But please, extend me grace while I grow and choose healthy behavior over destructive. Even I must offer myself grace.

The past year of trials has taught me that I must learn as I go and continually give myself the same grace and forgiveness I receive daily from God.

For the time being, this space is my outlet. I need it. Perception is everything. Right now my perception is that without my husband, I'd be completely alone. My previous friends have moved on and I'm rarely on their radar. I understand. I'm not there. I can't be a part of their lives in the same capacity. My perception is that I really don't have any friends here either. After a month of missing church and having only one person check the entire time, I think it's an understandable perception.

This is a miserable time for me. I'm not making excuses, but being honest. My husband pointed out last night how sad it is that he is finally feeling good and I'm miserable. I'm so proud of him for finally getting to a healthier place with our move. He's developing friendships and is happier here than I thought he'd ever be.

I will still blog, but I definitely need to be away from facebook. Oh my goodness. That site has become a place of high emotion for me. Honestly, I felt as though I was getting sucked back into my grade school years. Such drama. There always seems to be debating, hatefulness, and judgement. Not only that, but I see so much immaturity and passive aggressiveness. Seriously. I can't handle one more person complaining about their children or spouse in hateful ways and even having arguments. I am over the childishness of unfriending people instead of being honest.

Think about this scenario for a second, I've seen it many times and how it hurts people. You go to church and serve alongside someone. The person gets upset with you and unfriends you on facebook. Or, the person who sits in front of you week after week won't accept a friend request. Or, you watch as particular people encourage others but never you.

Think about what is happening here. If we saw the same thing play out in a classroom, we'd consider it poor communication and even possibly a bit of bullying or intentional exclusion. It's happening all the time on Facebook and we think nothing of it. We also never consider the awkwardness these things will create in the future nor how they push hurting and broken people further away from the church.

As christians or even just as compassionate people, it's not the way we should be handling ourselves. It's truly hurting the people on the receiving end and altering how they handle face to face relationships with lowered self esteem. I've seen it. I've lived it.

All that to say, I just can't put myself where negative emotions are constantly triggered. I know, I'll ultimately be isolating myself even more, but I need to protect my heart. I have far too many obstacles in life to intentionally give myself more.

I know God is working on my heart. I know that even when I feel alone, he's never left me. I know when I've laid out the darkest parts of my heart, he still loves me anyway.

Unplugging

My husband, in his depression, often tells me that he feels like he can't do anything right. He grew up in a good home with loving parents who also jacked him up. Feeling as though you can't do anything right is one of the similarities we have from childhood. It was something I put a lot of work in during counseling. Truly, it was all about learning to see myself the way God sees me and not taking fault for absolutely everything. 

This past year has handed me one obstacle after another and pushed me back into that hole. I dfinitely feel as though I can't do anything right. I feel like I can't say the right thing and I'm generally failing at life. 

It's not a whining, pity party. I'm not looking for sympathy. I'm just saying what is true, perceived or reality. There's no facet of life where I'm not failing. 

This weekend was low key and created a lot of opportunity for honest conversation with my husband. While he has depression, he doesn't understand depression in anyone else. I can try to help him and redirect him until I'm out of suggestions, but he still thinks it's helpful for him to tell me to get over it and go on. 

Despite his lack of understanding or empathy, I was able to admit that I am depressed. It is circumstantial, as it usually is. Irregardless, it's there. The good thing is that it usually disappears as circumstances change. The bad thing is that it usually gets far worse before it improves. We both know this about me and know there's usually a fight to keep it from going to a place of harm. 

I continue to go into unchartered territory. The stuff in my life continues to pile on my shoulders. I don't need to go through the list again. It all adds up until I can't handle it any more. 

For a couple years, I did well. I wasn't fragile and I had a solid support system for those times when I needed it. 

Almost a year ago, I lost the stable support system and the stuff started stacking up. Think about the lifespan of a window. When they are installed, they are strong and have adequate supports. As time goes on and the supports break down and the strength weakens, they will eventually crack. That is where I am at. 

Since I'm feeling a bit raw from an entire year of stuff, I feel like I need to protect myself and my heart from becoming any more bitter. I deactivated some of my social media and this will likely be my last post for a while. 

There has been a lot of learning dependence on God through this past year. There's obviously more I need to learn. 

"Maybe you don't belong"

The title is quoted because it is something that was said to me this past month.

I have kept it tucked away and it has been eating at me. I would like to say it had nothing to do with my recent feelings about being here, but that would be a lie.

At the time, it was completely said in context of the conversation. It is even possible that the person was commiserating with me as I shared my feelings about being here and the difficulties in developing relationships.

There is a possibility that the person was trying to support what I was feeling. This person doesn't know me well, has never made an effort to get to know me and I'm not even sure what prompted them to have this conversation with me. I have also not heard from the person since.

However, the more I have held onto it and tossed it around, the more it has hurt.

I have not even shared with my husband. I tend to keep things like this to myself until I can process through it. I have learned that when I share something with my husband and am in high emotion, it alters his opinion of the person. He's protective of me. He knows the hurt I have been through and wants only to protect me from any more. I don't fault him.

He is less inclined to give people a second chance once he has developed an opinion of them. Because I know this, I have learned that it is always best to set on some things until I can share with him without emotion and with more explanation.

This person is a christian, someone who should be offering love instead of suggestions for moving companies.

I truly have thought through this conversation, both my side and the other.

Here is what I have finally decided. I had to put myself on the other side.

What would I do or say? How could I respond? Would I have done the same thing?

Someone is standing in front of me, telling me how miserable they have become in this area. They say they once loved it and thought everyone was pleasant and kind. She then tells me that she has struggled to make relationships and is having difficulty in church and how she has been treated by christians. She expresses that she has become depressed and feels the only way to ever be happy again is to leave the area.

How would I respond to that?

The easy response would be exactly what the person gave me. But, I know me. I can safely and confidently say that is not how I would respond. Despite how I feel about a person, I do possess a level of compassion which allows me to feel pain alongside others.

I know if I heard that conversation, I would hear the pain the other person was feeling. In church, I have been on the opposite side. I know how I would respond.

My response wouldn't be so glib or uncaring.

My response would be more compassionate. There is little that drives you away from a place or setting than not feeling included or wanted.

The first thing I would have done would be to invite the person to sit down with me at a later time for an extended discussion. Are the feelings motivated by emotion, actions or just missing friends and family? There is always more to what people tell us.

I would begin intentionally encouraging this person, letting them know that they are not alone and they are cared for. It wouldn't matter if I liked the person or not. This person is a brother or sister in Christ and I have a responsibility to them.

During our extended conversation, I would explore exactly what changed. In addition, I would ask about the things which the person enjoyed and ways they are most comfortable getting to know other people. I would discuss expectations and a possible adjustment. Above all, I would pray with and for them and remind them that God cares about this too.

I would make an effort to maneuver social settings with the person, introducing them to positive, encouraging people. I would share with trusted resources that this person could use some extra encouragement and is struggling. Remember, we are the body. We have a responsibility to everyone.

The reason I can be confident in my response is because I have done those things. I have done it for people I don't like and people I don't know. It has been easy. Why has it been easy? Because I know the immense love God has for me and know he has that same love for the other person. God wants me to show an immense love for that person, I'm called to, commanded to. Most importantly, I want to love like that.

My flesh definitely wins here though. Instead of my kind of response, I got what I got. And, it perpetuates those feelings of not belonging here. It pushes me deeper into seclusion and more anxiously awaiting the time when we can move away.

Due Date

When I initially went to the hospital on August 3, I unknowingly was have a miscarriage at approximately 12 weeks.

That means my due date would have been somewhere in the next 1-2 weeks.

This isn't the first time a due date full of emptiness has been staring me in the face. But it is the first time I'm putting words to the depth of pain.

It is incredibly surreal to think that we could have had a baby girl or boy to wrap our arms around. It is equally as painful to know we won't.

I won't lie, this is the time I dreaded from the moment I knew. The day that would come and go, filling me with the overwhelming sense of loss which had dissipated some.

What complicates the emotion further is knowing I still have one more of these days coming in June. Unfortunately, that has potential to be made worse by having a couple friends who are due around the same time.

There aren't any tears. In fact, I'm not sure how to feel. I don't want to feel. I cried my tears over the loss. I'm not sure I have anything left.

My lack of tears doesn't negate the pain. It's there.

We should be excited and living our dream.

But we aren't. It reignites those questions of why.

Believe it or not, there's little from my past that makes me ask why any more. Usually that question comes out of a trigger.

This...this is something I don't understand. I struggle to understand it all. The loss. The unanswered prayers. The pain. The deep desire.

Our inability to have children will be forever the thing that I can't find purpose in. The thing I constantly doubt can be redeemed.

I'm not sure how to deal with this. It's yet another thing that we have to walk through alone.

Post Dream

Two nights ago, I had a dream that has stuck with me. It's tapping at my current insecurities and fear.

When I had surgery in September, I was scared. Remember, I thought I was going to die and came closer than ever. I was physically ill and emotionally shaken. I was also incredibly alone. Once my husband was sent to the waiting area so I could be prepped, I WAS all alone.

My nurse was this muscular guy named Evan. At first, I was put off by the male nurse given the nature of the problem. I'm extremely modest. I couldn't have had better care.

Evan was gentle and caring. He was sensative to the issues. He got my IV in on the first stick and that's never happened. Even more amazing given the blood condition. I was the only patient, so that did allow all the attention on me.

He could see my weakness and helped me undress and dress in ways that respected my modesty. When I started to cry in fear, he sat with me and rubbed my hand. He assured me that he would be right there waiting for me in recovery. And he was. During recovery, I received equal care. Despite my grogginess, I remember him sitting on a stool wiping my face with a watm cloth. He explained to me what had happened in the OR. He explained that my temp had dropped dangerously low and the situation with my hemoglobin. He told me about the meds I needed to take. He said over and over that I was sicker than anyone had known and emphasized how important it was to take care of myself going forward.

Every step of the way, I knew I was care for in this amazing way. Physically and emotionally, this stranger had carried me through. There wasn't an attraction on my part, but a genuine sense of appreciation.

I hadn't thought much about Evan since the following weeks after surgery. Until my dream.

In my dream, I had a terminal medical condition. My husband and Evan took my diagnosis on and flew us across the country for help.

Most of the dream was pretty far fetched. The helicopter was bizarre and the whole thing was just weird.

As I talked to my husband about my dream, I realized why it's stuck with me.

Life has been a struggle. I've struggled to find deeper relationships where I feel cared about. I'm not saying I have none, I'm just saying not many and it's been difficult. Kent and I have struggled to feel close.

In talking with him, we both agreed that it's been hard to believe we are loved and cared for in intimate ways. Our physical needs have been met, but emotional not so much.

The reason my dream was so impactful was because that was the last time that I knew without a doubt that every need I had was met. It was the last time that I knew the person holding my hand was going to do everything they said. It was the last time that I felt physically and emotionally cared for and without fear.

I could have had a similar experience with a female nurse, so again, it has nothing to do with lust or sexuality.

It makes me sad, but also reminds me of our responsibility to others. During times of illness, transition and even wellness, that hand hold ours, both literally and figuratively, means so much. Those are the times when we know without doubt that we are cared for and those times may fall far apart.

Impending Birthday

My background drives me to be self aware more than the average person. When my mood is off, I do my best to evaluate and find the reason why. The past few days, I've become acutely aware of one reason the lack of relationships here is so hard.

In under three months, I will be celebrating my 40th birthday. 

It's the first milestone birthday since I stopped dreading them and started celebrating them. That was a big deal. It was a process to believe that God ordained my birth, loved me and that day was worthy of celebration. 

When Kent turned 40, I threw him a surprise party. It was awesome seeing so many people coming together to celebrate him. It was a bit of a dream to have the same thing one day. 

Last year when we found out we had to move, I thought about my birthday. My friends celebrated my 39th and gave us a going away party. It was great. It was also then that I began praying. I prayed for friends. I selfishly prayed for God to provide me a group of people who could and would be able to celebrate with me. 

But that prayer hasn't been answered. Not in the way that I've wanted. 

Believe me, I know I've gotten far better. Being alone has taught me a deeper reliance on God and I cannot minimize that. 

That doesn't change my disappointment. 

Last year, we were flat broke and moved three days after my birthday. I know my husband will do his best to make up for that this year. I'll absolutely be ok with that. 

I have to be honest with myself. I have to admit the selfishness in my heart. While I know it is still great growth that I want to celebrate, I know there are far bigger things in life. 

My Husband's Comment

My husband made a comment to me yesterday that was so brutally honest and yet made me evaluate myself. He told me I had been really crabby.

First of all, that was really a smooth move on his part. Cause what wife doesn't just love being told they are crabby.

But really, he was right. I have let people, circumstances and situations suck the joy completely out of me. I am not afraid to admit it. Admitting my faults is one of my strengths. I have a lot, why not openly share.

It is complete honesty that leads me to say that sometimes finding joy isn't easy. Sometimes it is a fight.

Whether I am looking out the window or looking in the mirror, I don't easily see it.

Almost two weeks of half my face not working, there's no joy in that. I anxiously get up at 5 am every morning and pop into the bathroom hoping to see just a tiny bit of movement in my eyebrow or lips. Nothing! Every single time, there is nothing. It isn't that there hasn't been any change. My face isn't drooping as bad. My eye is closing almost all the way when I'm not tired. The ear pain has decreased. There is plenty of positives, but they are hard to see when you aren't getting the result you want.

When I look outside, I see grey, bare trees and brown, dry grass. It is cold and miserable. There isn't snow. I love snow and would much rather see that. The weather people get me all excited each week for the next big snow storm and they have all fizzled or we've gotten freezing rain. Or, and definitely my favorite, is that it will snow all day long and there will not be one flake that is on the ground at 6 pm. How does that happen? It's depressing. I could be thankful for clear roads this winter and for sunshine, but it's just not that easy.

The truth is that I am fighting (probably not very hard) for joy. My life is school, chores, fix dinner, school, sleep and repeat. I haven't found balance yet. I don't have a strong connection to anything right now and I feel only somewhat present in the day to day life around here.

My husband, bless him, made an observation last weekend that he has never made in over 20 years together. As we sat watching the Super Bowl Sunday night, he said to me that he felt like we weren't connecting.

Hello? What did you just say?

I'm usually the one kicking and screaming over that. I'm the one that will throw the gigantic sized fit when he isn't balancing work and home life well. I'm the one who will try and fail to be gracious when I ask for more attention from him.

Weeks have passed and I never realized that we had done another flip-flop.

Between learning to balance a new normal, high emotion over various things going on, lack of relationships and a bit of seasonal/circumstantial depression, I had completely forgotten about my husband. Truthfully, I had coexisted in this space with him for at least a week without initiating a conversation with him. Thankfully this was one of the times he offered me grace and confronted me in a loving and respectful way.

I know there is room for improvement and I am headed that direction. I am halfway through my first term of three classes. My next term is only two classes. I have two papers to write in the next four weeks. Crazy. I can write on here all day long, but hate writing a term paper.

Another subject for another time, but I know school is going to be stressful until I make some decisions. Not necessarily about classes or major, but about the school itself. I wanted a degree from a Christian school. However, the cost it outrageous. I don't want to graduate with a mountain of debt and therefore have to consider other schools.

For now, I'll hold onto the little things. My dogs make me laugh. My husband makes me smile (sorta halfway). My busyness keeps me sane. For that, I have to be thankful.

Grouchy Monday Morning

I would rather have yesterday morning back.

There's something about starting a second week with only half your face working that puts you in a bad mood.

Seriously, I'm so tired of this Bells Palsy.

It has definitely improved. At one point, my eyebrow was nearly even with my eyelid. Now, it's even with the other side but doesn't move. My lip still has little movement, making it hard to eat and drink still. I have definition and lines back in my forehead and cheek. The pain in my ear is still there and sometimes intolerable. My blurry vision is still troublesome.

That's enough to be irritated. I barely got my school work done before the deadline for last week. However, I'm so far behind on reading and lectures. I have exams this week and a paper next week that I'm completely unprepared for and may need to ask for an extension. With blurry vision, I can't read for long.

Bells Palsy is caused by a virus. That means your body is constantly fighting a virus and is tired a lot.

Even though I'm inside, outside it is miserable. It's icy and snowing. The ice sucks and we've had a lot of mornings that the roads were slick. I don't mind the snow, but it never amounts to anything. We've had one good snow, clear back in November. Then nothing more than an inch or so since. Why can't we have good, solid snow? It keeps missing us. It's also bitterly cold. I'm no longer a fan of bitter cold, especially weeks and weeks of it.

I know I need to, but I don't want to get out of bed.

To make things even better, the Internet is down. Our crappy service never stays working long. The work I could be doing for school, I can't. Good grief. I can't wait until we can have good service again.

I hadn't thought about it for several months, but I miss sitting on the deck and watching the sun rise and go down. I've never ever been so ready for spring. Never! I'm always ready for snow, but this is ridiculous and I'm ready for the things that I do enjoy.

Quiet Sunday Morning

It's Sunday morning and I have a quiet house. Except for the ceiling fan and one dog playing, there's nothing going on. Just me and my thoughts.

The past few days have been rough physically. My Bells Palsy is improving slowly. My face is not dropping as bad, I can close my eye all the way with some effort and my lips are no longer completely turned down. The pain has been excruciating through. The electro stimulation I've been having makes my facial muscles ache. The worst is the spasms right below the ear. When they start, nothing helps. The pain radiates all over my head and down into my shoulder.

Last night was probably the worst. Every 5-10 minutes, the pain hit me like a baseball bat to the head. I cried and fought nausea. Not exactly a glamorous Saturday night. I hesitate to say that the pain is better today because I fear that will be its indicator to start again.

I don't remember the pain last time, but I also didn't rush healing with treatment either. I suppose there may have been some pain, but life was different then and I likely didn't feel pain the same way.

It really has improved enough that I could have gone to church. The noise would have likely triggered a headache and pain, but I could have gotten through. I didn't have a desire. My third straight week out and I didn't care to go. A decision that I understand only hurts me.

But it's hard. There's been several things that have happened over the past few weeks and months that make it hard.

Truly it is a painful reality to know you aren't liked. I don't say that flippantly or without serious consideration.

Please understand, I'm not lumping all christians together nor am I talking about everyone in this church nor am I referring to only people in church. It comes back to what I have said over and over. I am an outsider.

It is easy to not like me because I don't dress, think, feel, act, speak like everyone else here. I stand out. The only way to fit would be to transform into something I'm not. How do I know? Because that's exactly how I have treated outsiders before.

New people at work or church. Odd new neighbors. New introductions into social circles. I've treated the new comer as if they were an unwanted alien. And now I'm the alien.

It sucks and I now regret it. I also better understand the common response that many people have to new people. It's a struggle to deal with change. We have our people and our ways of doing things and our flesh fights against changing that. I say that knowing that understanding more doesn't mean hurting less.

As a general rule, I am polite and gracious with people I've just met. I smile and remain a bit reserved. That's just how I am around strangers. It either takes time or an act of God for me to be comfortable. Once I'm comfortable, I tend to be more myself. Still respectful but a little less afraid of honesty.

Like I've said, I don't fit here. So, there's little I can say or share or do that will change that.

Believe me, I've had people try to convince me otherwise. I've had people tell me I'm not disliked or that I fit in just fine.

Here's the deal. I'm not much into cliches but its suitable for this. Actions speak louder than words.

You can run your mouth all day long and spoon feed me the BS. However, when your actions don't match what you've said, then I'm the one calling BS. And that's what's been happening.

I don't want to go into details. I don't think that's fair. Rest assured, I've seen it. My husband has seen it. It's not pretty. And sadly, it puts us in our place as outsiders.

So can you guess what my Sunday morning thoughts are? I'm dreaming of the day when we can get back to KC and I hate it. I hate not living it here.

Super Bowl Blues

Super Bowl weekend. It's like a holiday for for sports fanatics like me. I'm fixing a pot of chili and we will hang out here, alone, to watch the game. 

There's significance in the word alone. We have been here exactly nine months. Alone is how we have spent most of our time here. With the exception of Christmas Day, we have spent good and bad times alone. 

Here is the other reality for us. If we were still in KC, we wouldn't be spending Sunday alone. Five of the last six years, we have joined friends to watch the Super Bowl. If we were in KC, we wouldn't have spent most of the last nine months alone. We would have had friends with us through it all. 

Obviously, this really isn't about the Super Bowl. 

When we moved, I was excited. My husband's contract was for two years. He came here wanting to do his time so we could move back closer to his family. I didn't do that. I came in wanting to make this my home. I didn't want to put limitations on myself or potential relationships. I worked on my husband. 

For months, he didn't feel like this was home. I spoke directly to his heart. Begging him to embrace the community and to make friends. He has finally done that. He is starting to feel connected to this area and now reminds me that this is home. 

We have really flip flopped and it makes me sad. 

I don't fit here. I don't belong here. This place is not my home. I am finally ready to begin a countdown until we can move back to KC. 

I suppose there has been a little bit of dishonesty in some of what I have previously said. 

There has been truth in what I have shared about the number of relationships I have developed. I have one female friend. Although I'm not a very good friend in return, so we really don't talk much. the minister and his wife are super sweet people and have been kind to us. We consider them friends as well. My husband has made some great friendships with guys at work. 

That's about the size of it. 

The truth is that the struggle has been harder than I've let on or even imagined it would be. When I say I don't fit, I'm not kidding. 

I've said over and over that everyone here is so nice. After nine months here, I can tell you that the majority of my experience has not been so. Here is truth from my perspective. 

People here don't seem to like outsiders. We aren't welcome. People don't go out of their way to get to know us or even make us feel welcome. They are even less welcoming once they've gotten to know us at all. 

The past few months, I have experienced more rudeness than kindness specifically directed at me. No kidding. This week was particularly awful. I had the entire spectrum of ego, attitude, poor communication, and flat out being treated as if I were not human. 

Of course I'm disheartened. It is discouraging to want to fit in and love this place but to be slapped in the face every step of the way. 

I have finally reached my threshold. The point when bad outweighs the good. 

It is evident in most areas of my life. I don't want to leave the house. When we do, we go to Dayton or Chillicothe. We drive an hour away for the simplest things because there is no connection to this area. 

This will be my third week sitting out of church. I don't even have a desire to go back. The worship and preaching is good. Don't get me wrong. I miss that part. But it's hard for me to feel like such an outsider. We have an older man who shakes our hand and one or two people who might talk to us or say hello. We aren't oblivious. We watch others hug one another and have heartfelt conversations. It's not lost on us that we aren't loved that way. We walk away each week knowing we are growing, but feeling lost. 

I'm not placing blame. It is possible that this is the Lord's way of not letting us get comfortable. I am also not naive enough to think that this couldn't be His way of preparing our hearts to be changed and for us to see God's glory. 

That doesn't negate how difficult this is. I feel like I'm a stranger in a foreign land. Its uncomfortable and I don't fit.

Until the Lord moves or shoves me in another direction, the countdown is on...it's 15 months. 

Bell's Palsy

I know I shouldn't, but I'm having one of those "what are you thinking, God" mornings. I know my life is relatively simple compared to others and things could always be worse.

This past weekend, I came down with Bell's Palsy. It is the second time in five years. According to the doctor, I have very active chicken pox virus triggers. Since I live in an area where people (the Amish) don't vaccinate, there is always some disease going around.

Bell's Palsy is an inflammation of the facial nerve caused by a virus. The virus is suspected to be a remnant of the chicken pox virus and the same which causes shingles.

When the facial nerve is inflamed, it stops working. This causes one half of the face to stop working. This nerve goes into the face and ear. The entire side of the face droops and a variety of problems arise. The worst pain is in the ear. There is an excruciating pain that shoots inside the ear and around to the back side.

Beyond the ear, the pain is minimal. While the face isn't numb, it's not painful. The eye is the only other part of this that is painful for me. My eyelid does not close when I blink, so it gets incredibly dry. Dry eye can cause pain and corneal ulcers. For now, I make sure I physically push my eyelid closed as much as possible and use eye drops routinely. The opposite side of the face does get a bit worn out for over compensating and it's tiring.

The worst part isn't the pain, it's the mental wearing.

As you can imagine, this touches on so many of my anxieties. When it comes on, there is a fear of stroke. Loss of movement on one side of your face mimics the first signs of stroke. Thankfully, it doesn't take long to see that besides your face, nothing else is affected.

There is also the anxiety and fear that it will never return to normal. I remember last time going 2 1/2 weeks and thinking this would be my life.

My first signs were probably last Tuesday. I woke up with my tongue feeling funny. It felt like I had burned it on one side and everything I ate tasted funny. However, I couldn't remember burning myself. It seemed to get better but still be present the next few days. During that time, I thought I was getting an ear infection because I had a terrible pain. Friday morning, my right eye felt funny, like it was smaller. By Friday night, I could tell that my face was shutting down. Saturday, I had a little movement in my brow and by Sunday, nothing worked.

But mentally. Man. What a nightmare.

It is hard to do anything. My vision is blurry. The eye that is dry waters non stop or is blurry from not blinking. The other eye hurts from compensating. I won't drive right now because I don't feel it is safe with blurry vision and my one eye is light sensitive. School work is difficult because of the vision problem.

My house is filthy because I have no energy to do more than I am doing right now. When I say dirty, it's probably not what most people would consider dirty. It's dusty and there are dog toys every where. The dining room floor is dirty from paw prints that have walked through the mud and snow. The kitchen stove needs cleaned and there is clutter laying every where. So, dirty for me.

Usually, my husband would pick up the slack but that isn't happening right now. He is just now starting to get over his cold and has worked a lot. He is also dealing with some emotional aftermath of losing his co-worker and woke up last night with an ear infection.

I'm not sure anything is more difficult than looking in the mirror. Half my face looks like a brick. There is no movement. I wipe away the watery eye and then the drool in the corner of my unintentional frown.

Eating and drinking is horrendous. With your half your lips not working, it is almost impossible to take a drink without some of it running uncontrollably back onto your shirt. It's all water for me right now. Thankfully my husband is a good sport. I have to eat with my mouth open so that I don't choke. I can chew on the right side, but can't move food around. Evidently your jaw is not affected by the facial nerve. I'll spare you the details, but eating is messy and I have choked a few times.

I feel a bit forced to be homebound right now. Not that anyone would judge me, but I certainly want to spare them.

Yesterday, I did go to the doctor. I had and will be having electrical stimulation done on my facial nerve for the next five days. I don't know if it will help at all. Since the treatment yesterday, I have had twitching in my eyelid and lip. I hope that is a good sign.

For now, I fight the pity party. I fight my desire to sit and cry until it goes away. I know it could be worse, but it feels pretty bad right now.

Challenging Encouragement

At the end of our bible study this week, our minister gave us a challenge. His challenge has brought me to my knees asking for a change in my own heart.

His challenge was for us to encourage someone to use their spiritual giftedness. Seems simple enough, right?

I love a challenge, but I love encouraging people even more.

Currently, I am in a season of feeling discouraged. Not uncommon, I've been through them before. We live in the middle of nowhere. Really, nobody knows me and I don't know them. The number of people who could encourage me in helpful ways here is minimal. My husband has a little bit broader base of people because of his job.

All that to say, I know how much it means to be encouraged. I know what it is like to be encouraged to utilize the gifts I've been given. One of the most satisfying ministries I have ever been a part of was the women's at one of our previous churches.

The women's ministry leader plugged me into areas where I could be used. Sometimes, I hated it. Who really wants to always be in charge of feeding large groups of women? I mean come on, women are picky and bitchy. However, by stepping into open roles and proving myself, I was able to work into roles that I enjoyed a lot more. Not an easy thing to do.

When I was leaning toward going back to school, I called a string of friends. One after another encouraged me to use what the Lord has given me, both in gifts and experience. It made the decision easier to apply. If they had discouraged me, I would have had to pray through it even more than I did.

Needless to say, I was happy to encourage someone. Therein, I hit my wall.

Because of physical distance, I have been distanced from most of my friends in KC. It's understandable. Almost nine months away and I really have no clue outside of social media what is happening in their lives or how they have changed.

Here, I don't know people. I have a lot of acquaintances through church or who are neighbors. I have two people I would consider friends. Both of those people are using their gifts daily. Not that they don't need encouragement, but this type would probably be lost of them.

It is a punch in the gut each time I inadvertently realize just how alone I am here and how real the struggle is to develop relationships.

In a completely unrelated text thread with someone, I explained again how and why I failed with our small group and why it still affects me now.

Honestly, I wept through the entire message. My double ply walls are up and nobody is getting in and I remain restrained. I realize that the pain in self inflicted, but the fear of offending someone or being hurt is far greater.

I know because it's been said to me that others consider this a pride issue. It's not. It is thoroughly based in fear. I pray about this. I pray for the fear to be lifted. I pray for a comfort to be transparent with people.  The only thing not directed at me specifically is when I pray for the people around me to be accepting of me even when I have different views or ideas. Accepting of me, regardless of whether they agree with my thoughts or not.

My husband laughs at me every time I say I wish I had lots of girlfriends here. He knows me. He knows how hard that would be for me to do successfully. He knows that I am more like him than the average woman. And yet, he knows I enjoy deep conversations and relationships with women.

It was a fair challenge offered by my minister, one I wanted to take on. Even when I am the most discouraged, I can easily be an encourager. But I'm not sure I have the resources to do this one. It is a sad day when you realize you don't know anyone enough to know what their gifts are and how to encourage them.

He is Fearless

When it comes to anxiety, my husband and I are complete opposites. That's true with a lot of things, but this is probably one of the few things where we end up on the opposite ends of the spectrum. 

There was a time in my life when I was fearless. It was when I lived a chaotic life that was out of control and life threatening situations were a norm. I didn't fear because I didn't have any regard for my own life. Sad, but true. 

As I began to live a more average life, I began to become far more anxious about things out of my control. I became a hypochondriac and fretted about everything. Through my time in counseling, I learned that my behavior was a common bi product of my past. 

For the most part, my anxiety is minimal compared to what it was two years ago and beyond. When my anxiety is at its peak, I can't leave the house. In fact, I barely leave my bedroom. The idea of being around people sent me into a panic. Thankfully, that has been minimal since we moved. There have been times when I've hidden, but it's been more emotional than anxiety. 

Flu season makes me anxious. Traveling, especially in bad weather, causes anxiety attacks. Health stuff will cause me minor panic. Those are my major hang ups and the rest are minor that will cause major anxiety when they flare. Not that it's an excuse, but my PTSD does make me prone to anxiety that's difficult to control. 

My husband on the other hand, no anxiety. I'm a bit jealous. I've seen him anxious only a few times in our marriage. Most of them were medication induced and the rest were health related when his bp was high. 

I don't like quips but he's as cool as a cucumber. He's so calm about everything. When we wrecked the truck a few years ago, he was absolutely calm. So much so that the deputy asked me if he was always that calm or if he was on any substances. Of course not. He's just that easy going. 

My husband is the guy that is firm in chaos. He doesn't get overly excited. 

He really fears nothing. Driving on icy roads. Fixing live electrical outlets. He's either fearless or has a solid faith. 

I suppose I have enough fear and anxiety for both of us. I'm glad we balance each other.