Sweat, Tears, or the Sea

This year has been an emotional roller coaster. Yes, it’s only June, I know. Just when things have settled a bit, we get thrown for another loop. The most difficult being that one of Jon’s brothers tragically passed away. 

There has been grief coming from so many other places besides that. Grief changes a person. Everyone that’s been touched by the grief of losing someone too soon is changed forever, never to be the same again. 

Stress and other family drama just puts the cherry on top of this already strange year. Thankfully, we’ve been fortunate enough to have a few outs when things get especially difficult. We got to go to the Grand Canyon. We visited family in Colorado, and this week we get to go to Florida! 

I know you can’t run away from grief and other stresses. But having these little chances to hide away a little bit have truly been life savers. Times for just our little family to cling to each other, and to God. 

I joked with Jon that our marriage has got to be indestructible by now. All of the different obstacles and tragedies we’ve been faced with other the last decade have definitely challenged us in ways I never thought possible. But it’s also strengthened our relationship more than I ever thought possible. There’s no one else I’d rather do this life with. 

Spending a few days on the beach has come at the perfect time! Road trip, baby!!! 

As Women and Mothers...

As women and mothers we should never ever allow ourselves to feel guilty for weak moments. We’re so scared of what someone else will say or think if we expose raw areas of our lives that we keep those areas mostly hidden. We only post the bright and cheery stuff on social media. God forbid anyone should know our lives are anything less than perfect. We don’t talk about being abused for fear of being blamed or ridiculed. We don’t talk about how truly difficult dark times in our lives have been. 

Sure we talk about the surface pain; we talk about our hearts hurting or our feelings being hurt. But we’re so worried about looking weak, and being less than the next woman that we don’t allow ourselves to be raw and open with those that care about us. We close up our feelings, inadvertently causing hurt we don’t know were causing to ourselves as well as those around us. Shoving our feelings down, pretending everything is fine when we’re being eaten up about something...It just ends up smothering relationships that are otherwise inspiring and so very joyous. 

It can be like a domino effect. If we can lay aside our egos, our pride, and maybe a little dignity to talk about the hard stuff, others will see that hey this person is dealing with things that I’m dealing with, or this person is dealing with hard things and they’re having trouble, then maybe she’ll feel a tiny bit more comfortable divulging her own story, her own heartbreak, her own trauma. She’ll know she isn’t alone. 

Even though we might not have anything brilliant or profound to say, sometimes it’s just nice to have a hand to hold, a shoulder to lean on. Someone who is trying to understand even if they really don’t...they’re putting forth effort. That counts!!  We have to stop putting others down because we think their pain is less significant than our own. We have to stop treating our pain as less than someone else's. We have to stop treating other's pain as less than our own. 

I love this quote almost as much as I love bacon. Be bacon bits in the salad bowl of life!! 

The Day Has Come...

Several times a day, we go through this exchange with the people around us:

"Hi! How are you?"

"I'm okay. How are you?

or 

"Not bad. How are you?

or

"I'm tired. How are you?"

...so on and so forth. 

For the first time in 6 years, I heard myself answer that question with "I'm doing well..." and I meant it.

It surprised me. 

I AM doing well. I smiled and teared up a bit. 

It almost feels like I'm tempting fate saying that out loud. 

Regardless, the day has come. I've found my happy, once again. 

Before now, the truly joyful moments were sprinkled sparsely among the darkest years of my life. There could be darker years ahead. I know that, but I like to believe that the worst is behind me. That keeps me from wanting to quit life. 

Aaaanyway. This joy stuff. I almost don't know what to do with it. Now, the dark days are sprinkled sparsely among the joyful ones. I'm not incapacitated by letters from Dad. I'm not stressing out about not wanting to answer Mom's phone calls. It's okay if I don't feel up to responding to letters or answering phone calls. My happiness doesn't depend on pleasing other people anymore. That is incredibly freeing!

Yes, I want to make my children happy. I want to make my husband happy. But that desire isn't abusive anymore. I want to make them happy because it brings me and them joy. Not because I'm afraid of what they'll think or do if I don't. 

Loving someone, caring for someone when it is truly what you want to do, and not just what someone expects of you...that is powerful. 

All in One Day

Today started at 4:15 AM with 35 minutes of HIIT, followed by a gloriously hot shower and a giant cup of coffee. I'm thankful my day got a jump start.

The rest of the day didn't, necessarily, go badly; just chaotic. All. The. Chaos. I subbed in Isaiah's class, today. Usually, I'm assisting in the K3 and K4 classroom. 1st and 2nd graders are a whole new ballgame. I love those kids, all the same. They're brilliant, and adorable!

Today I've heard myself say "You can't microwave lions!!" and "Get out of there! People don't belong in refrigerators. You'll die!!"

All the kids came back to class from art looking shocked. Isaiah, apparently, told his classmates that when we put Teddy down, we chopped his head off then cut him in tiny pieces so he'd fit in a box. I don't even know. He told me that's what he thought we actually did. Parenting fail.

I got home at 3:30. I raked the chicken coop and added more hay, fixed the roof and collected 5 pretty bluish green eggs. I have chicken poop on my pants.

I baked a double batch of paleo banana muffins, and helped Isaiah with home work. Dinner was defrosted, prepped and in the oven by 6. And this: Maddie "ooooh fish!!" Mmmm no. This is chicken. "Uck yuck!! Me hate chicken!!" It's what's for dinner. Eat it or eat nothing. "Ooooh!! Me. Love. Chicken!!!" Followed by ear piercing screams of excitement.

Both Isaiah and Maddie bit  Jayme, so she's apparently being an antagonistic turd, today. The other two have veeeery clean mouths "If you're going to bite people, your mouth will have to be clean....now stand here and chew some soap"

Somewhere in there, the girls were playing with the resistance band. The heavy duty one. It shot across the room and hit my legs. They're gonna bruise. My legs. Not the girls. The girls are fine.

During dinner Jayme started freaking out because the yellow vegetable on her dinner plate tasted like a carrot. It was a yellow carrot. She hates cooked carrots. Confusion ensued. This is Isaiah trying to explain the difference between yellow carrots and orange carrots -  "it's like this: you're an angry person and I'm a happy person. But we're both still people, just like orange carrots and yellow carrots are both carrots"

My day has come to an end. Not a graceful end, but an end, still the same. A glass of wine. An episode of Phineas and Ferb (not my choice). Here's to another day...another adventure.

P.S. I hate plank jacks. If there is an exercise that I hold utter contempt for...it's plank jacks. Contempt. And hate.

Goodnight, folks.

Five Years

Five years ago on this very day, my life changed forever. My family was torn apart. Pieces of my heart went in different directions. Everything fell apart. I sank. I sank into a depression I didn't know I was in.

I got help. I'm healing.

Now, on this anniversary, this time of the year, it comes flooding back. Pieces of my heart are back, fractured, but back. And other pieces have been ripped away. I didn't realize how bad it was until I was doing better, and then worse again. I know it will get better.

It will probably feel like this forever, though I would imagine it will get easier, eventually. It won't ever be the same; not that I want it to be. However, that grief, the loss, it is still there. And this time of year, it's torn wide open. Raw.

I think that's okay. We aren't supposed to sweep our feelings under the rug. At the same time, we aren't supposed to expose them to every person we encounter.

So, excuse me if I'm not myself. Excuse me if my eyes are red and tired. Excuse me if I can't seem to involve myself. It will pass. It will pass.

When the Crazy Kicks In

A lady from our church started a home group a few weeks ago. Among so many other things I'm learning, it has highlighted the importance of spending time alone with God before the day gets going, putting all your worries, fears, and insecurities in His hands. Letting him handle your heartbreak so you can function.

When I get up early to have that beloved time I'm much less discombobulated, emotional, and just downright crabby. The last few weeks have exposed some things within myself, that I didn't know I was struggling with. It is a daily struggle, and each day comes with new struggles.

Some days, all these happenings really do get the best of me. I lose my ability to take the next step. I can't breath. It feels like my whole world is crashing down around me. Despite KNOWING that I'm surrounded by love on more sides than not, feeling completely alone and abandoned.

I'm realizing that feeling that way is OK. Feel it. Pay attention to it. Watch it go by. Then, get your chin up, and keep moving forward.

Anyway, Deb showed me this song, yesterday. It fits. :)

No Less of a Woman...Still

After Isaiah was born, I wrote an article for a newsletter my dad was publishing. The labor and delivery was the furthest from what we imagined and wanted it to be. I thought about being upset, or mad, or any host of emotions about how his birth went.

I decided that even though it didn't go anywhere near how I wanted it to go, my body still did what it was supposed to do. I carried and birthed a beautiful baby. Even if I would have had to have a c-section, I still would have birthed a baby. The article I wrote was called No Less of a Woman.

My body did exactly what it was supposed to do, therefore, I was no less of a woman. 

Almost 3 years ago, after a yearly exam, I was told I had precancerous changes of my cervix. We managed it for awhile. They told us that if we wanted another baby we shouldn't waste time. After Madalynne was born, we found that it had progressed. Dramatically. We did a few tests. They gave me some options.

We decided that if we fought it, we ran the risk of me not being healthy enough to take care of the wonderful children we already have. I'd sacrifice years of their childhood for a small chance at maybe having another baby one day. A baby that we weren't sure we wanted. 

We decided that three was a pretty great number. I mean, that's perfect right? Isaiah, Janice-May, Madalynne? That's beautiful. At least, I think it is....and that's all that matters.  

After talking with my doctor about it, and having another biopsy done we decided it was best to go ahead and remove the culprit.

Soooo....goodbye baby factory. 

The insurance company came through. Thankfully. 

Next month I'm having a hysterectomy. 

For my kids. 

For my quality of life. 

For my husband.

For the cost effectiveness of it.

I'm slightly terrified it's going to leave me feeling empty, less of a woman, and like I'm somehow broken and damaged beyond repair. That's definitely better than the alternative, but still...terrified.

I know I've accomplished what I wanted to. Having babies.

Some might call me crazy, but that's what I always wanted while I was growing up; To have a bunch of little rug rats running around. I love it...even though it does indeed drive me crazy.

And I know without a doubt that this is the very best choice for me. I'm young. I have my whole life ahead of me.

I feel selfish...yet somehow like I am giving up a part of myself. It's all a matter of perspective, I suppose.