These past couple of weeks I have immersed myself in an outrageous number of fictional novels, TV shows, and movies.
Why?
I’m so glad you asked!
Let’s go back a couple decades (I can’t believe I just said that…).
From my pre-teen to late-teen years I was an avid reader. I would grab a book, any book, and just sit and read until I reached the last page. Or, until my parents made me get up and do productive things instead.
I carried a large purse or backpack around all the time. Not because I was girly by any means, but because my books and my journals were ALWAYS with me.
Alongside my love of reading, I enjoyed putting my pen to paper as often as I could. Anytime someone needed a piece of paper or a pen, they knew to go to me. I was never without.
So let’s move up to the current year. I am the same. Unchanged. I read A LOT. I write A LOT.
Reading, for me, has always been enjoyable, entertaining, enlightening, and inspiring.
Writing, however, has always been a release. It’s motivating, self-encouraging, and a way to get all the things out of my head. All the things that race back and forth, ramming into the walls of my peace, chipping away at the structure within.
Not all thoughts are bad. Too many thoughts at once, however, can be overwhelming. And I am the textbook example of a “woman’s brain.” You know, the one they describe as an internet browser with too many tabs open?
Allow me to see that description level and raise it…
My mind is like a whole computer. Browsers are open, windows, tabs, etc. Apps are playing in the foreground and background simultaneously. The security app is constantly reminding me to check the kids and things around the house. The entertainment app is blaring with at least 3 genres of music at once, and anytime the mood changes EVERY channel changes with it! Browsers open for work and school, multiple windows and tabs for each one.
The antivirus hasn’t been run or upgraded in YEARS, and is flashing in the bottom, right corner every 3 hours or so. Its many attempts have been in vain so far. “Just click the ‘x’ in the corner to close the window till another day.”
Kind of like ignoring the check engine light on your car…
The calendar/appointment app self-destructs every few weeks or so… the poor thing.
Now, I could go on and on about how my overly anxious mind works (or doesn’t work), and likely make you dizzy with it all. I’ve chased one rabbit trail writing this post already, but I’m not editing it out. Haha!
We’ve covered reading and writing.
TV shows and movies:
Sometimes I turn them on to have background noise. That noise can often cancel out some of the scattered things swirling around in my mind when I need to concentrate on work, school, or something else.
And sometimes, I find shows and movies that are based on books.
And y’all… based on books? Not just a novel or non-fiction work, but a series of books?!
Sign. Me. Up.
I recall many of those, “How many have you watched?” lists on Facebook, marking lists of movies or TV shows, and you put a little symbol next to the ones you have seen. I would FILL those lists with symbols, every time.
I don’t really have a favorite genre of reading or writing, honestly. I glean a lot of knowledge and inspiration from non-fiction works, self-help, influential works, and more. But lately, I have leaned toward the fiction world again, much like I did as a teenager.
I can get lost in the descriptions of fictional worlds. The landscapes described with words these authors are gifted with using, that bring a scene to life inside the mind. Dialogue that can take you down emotional twists and turns, from laughing to gasping, and even crying, because you “Feel” every bit of the conversation. Describing emotions. My gosh…
As a teenager, I dreamed of becoming a published author. I wanted to open a world on paper that I brought to life with my words. Characters, conversation, the ups and downs of the hero and heroine of the story.
I wrote in my journals and notebooks for years. Visions of a story, outlines of possible books, and even a couple of drafted chapters here and there. Those notebooks and journals have traveled with me throughout my life and all the places I have moved since leaving the home where I was raised. Some have been lost, taken, ripped apart, and otherwise damaged. Not by me, but it happened none the less.
So, the other day I was pulling notebooks off the shelf for my kiddos to have something to draw on while I worked. One such notebook containing written works of two decades ago, fell out, open, on the floor at my feet.
I bent down, picked it up, and before standing straight again I paused.
The page that was open on the notebook in my hands was a list of descriptions. I had been practicing some creative writing skills with a dear friend of mine, and we would text back and forth a description of what we were looking at.
This one, however, ended up being a journaling for myself, and I couldn’t look away from the lines as the memories sucked all the air out of my core for just a moment.
“The reflection of the trees along the shore did a slow dance in the smoky glass of the water’s surface. The river is calm today. Tiny ripples hide well the dangerous current that races underneath. She’s moving fast today. A stick being carried by the current is here one second and gone the next. Underneath she is raging, but her surface gives no hint with the calm, smooth surface unbroken by waves or wind. I feel her today. I understand. I will leave for college away from home soon and I’m uncertain. The current inside me is strong, but it’s more like a churning rather than a flow. I am torn. I wanted to be a nurse. I wanted to live here and travel around the world. Did I settle? I don’t know. I also love music. And this school is going to give me music. It’s a school built for social people. Preachers, singers, teachers, evangelists… I’m not social. I’m terrified. Can I put on a face calm as the river and take this next step in my life? I don’t know. But I do know that wherever I go, any time I come home, the river will be here to greet me.”
So…
I carried that notebook to my room, sat on my bed, and turned several pages. I read short stories, poems, songs, more descriptive writing, journaling, reflections. Whew! It hit me hard.
So, what did I do? Ha! I went straight to my Kindle app, found books and started reading, went to Audible and started listening to books being read. Found Movies and TV shows based on books and watched/listened to them.
And here I have been for over a week, doing the same thing.
Remembering the creative thoughts I used to kindle into at least a little flame. Feeling the emotions connected to memories, dreams, visions, ideas, and goals I had set for myself.
Only now did I decide to open my computer and put to words what has been going on inside me these past many days.
Do I still dream of being a published author? YES!
Do I still want to write poems, music, songs, stories, and eventually books? YES!
Is this dream a possibility? YES!
Can I calm my mind enough to focus and budget my time wisely to achieve my dreams? This is where I struggle, and the rabbit trail we all took together at the beginning of this post happened. I want to. I really, REALLY do. But that computer mind of mine is on the verge of fritzing out.
Hopefully I will find the thing that sets me straight, very soon. I have a lot coming up in the very near future that will require a bit more of me than I have gathered in one compartment right now.
Until then, you will continue to get the random ramblings of a writer who loves to write. My blog posts aren’t consistently posted weekly or even monthly many times, but we will get there!
PS: if you have any book recommendations… well, you know what to do. 😊
And here we arrive at the final chapter of the great health scare of 2024.
Well, the first one anyway…
We are going to highlight Friday and Sunday in this post, as they were the days of fun and adventure… and the rest were filler days. LOL
The ambulance arrived at the hospital I would be admitted into. The doors opened and a burst of WARM air hit me.
Y’all. You know me! It was February… and it was warm! I was not happy at all. I looked up at the paramedic and mentioned the temperature. It wasn’t fair! It’s warm outside and I’m stuck to a gurney going into a hospital for God knows how long!
“Yeah. It’s supposed to be nice for a few days! Then, cold again.” She said as they wheeled my gurney from the truck to the doors of the ER.
I was too miserable to be upset for long, though. I had been bleeding for weeks, I was barely alert, and I had several feet of gauze shoved up where things don’t need to be shoved to slow the flow of blood.
To shorten the ER part of this tale, I will say that the Dr’s came in, OBGYN department knew I was coming and they knew I was “packed” and they were furious. The first thing they did after drawing yet more blood from my person was get that hot mess out of my body.
And when they did…
Red Niagara! For minutes! And then, Red Lake Michigan (or whatever large body of water) …
Everyone in there was like, “Oh my… whoa. Ok… more blood for you!”
It was then explained to me that my bleeding was internal… and it needed a place to go. So, if the “exit” from my body was closed off, it would start finding other places inside to retreat to. Not good, apparently.
Thankfully, Mom made it there to sit with me during my torture and torment shortly after I arrived in the ambulance. She got all the kiddos ready and off to their respective school destinations before following me up to the hospital.
By now, it’s mid-morning on Friday. I’m exhausted. Depleted. Have nothing left to give, at all. In more ways than one! They got me all set up and sent up to surgery floor for my stay while they decided exactly what was going to be done about my “unique situation” as they called it so many times.
Finally in my room on the 4th floor, I get to meet my nurses for the first time. A time of enormous discomfort for myself, and lots of sympathy for them from me as well.
I was soaked, not functional, unable to even sit up on my own at this point. I tried… gosh I tried! They had to clean me up as soon as I arrived, change my bed, my clothes, put an adult diaper thingy on me because the hemorrhaging was NOT letting up at all, and try to do it ALL while I’m laying in this bed!
Y’all. These nurses got skills!
After the magic they performed getting me and my bed changed out while I was still in it, they were able to reach out to my OBGYN to see if they were going to take out the baby growing system that day. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in 24 hours. Mama was living off whatever was going into my body via IV tubes.
While we waited for word from the Docs, I got set up with more blood, iron infusions, and some other concoction via IV bags to give me some sort of nutrients.
I also got to meet lots of nurses, techs, lab personnel, some student doctors, and other people who apparently couldn’t wait to see the “unique situation” that was in room 409.
Fast forward to that afternoon. The doctor came in and explained how he determined best to handle my situation.
“Between a rock and a hard place” was used to describe me multiple times by all the people I encountered.
My Dr referred to me as “Interesting”, “unique”, “complicated”, and other things as well.
So, let’s review my situation:
I have blood clots in my lungs. I am bleeding. A lot! The bleeding needs to stop. But the concern is the clots… which is as bad (and could be worse). Both needs treated/fixed. But, given that one is total opposite of the other… only one can be treated/fixed at a time.
It was determined that I would be having an ablation procedure to try to slow/stop the bleeding. I would have to be taken off my blood thinners for 2 days prior to the surgery, if possible, but if the bleeding got worse 1 day would do if absolutely necessary.
Every decision maker in my medical case determined that a hysterectomy would make my already difficult situation worse and wanted to do the least alteration possible to my body, get me back on the blood thinners, and on the road to recovery ASAP.
With the plan in place, it was determined that I could finally EAT!
Y’all… I ate whatever they could bring me! Sandwiches, chips, yogurts, crackers, all of it! I munched on those wonderful ice chips that hospitals have for hours in complete bliss!
That evening, a dear friend of my mom and I came to see me and bring a cute flower with a balloon on it to brighten my room. We chatted, laughed, and enjoyed each other’s company. I remained reclined safely in my bed as any time I would even try to sit up without the bed lifting me my heartrate would jump into the 120’s. Everyone saw it. I was hooked up to all these monitors so they could see anytime my heartrate jumped at the nurse’s desk.
So, that prefaced my next part of the story…
While we were chatting, one of my WONDERFUL nurses came into the room to see if I could get up to go to the bathroom. A: I felt like I needed to and told them so, and B: they needed to see if I could stand on my own two feet.
I could not…
I got up, made it to the bathroom, and mind you I had been doing this at home for two weeks already, not realizing how BAD it was for me to do so…
I make it to the bathroom. I’m dizzy. But man, I had to PEE! So, I start trying to “do my thing” and I hear a phone ring in my room.
Yeah… that was the nurses desk calling my charge nurse to see if I was ALIVE at this point, because (unbeknownst to me) my heart rate was 155 and my BP had bottomed out waaaaaay below readings of anyone who is conscious.
I opened the bathroom door, took one look at my nurse and said, “Yeah… this wasn’t a good idea. I don’t feel well.”
My mother and our dear friend were in the room, eyes fixated on the monitors. My mother’s face was probably as white as mine at this point, obviously not for the same reason, and they were both immobile as the nurse guided me back to my bed.
I collapsed there, dizzy, nauseous, clammy, sweaty, and barely alert at this point.
It took a few minutes for my brain and my body to communicate to each other that I was back in bed and my heart could settle down. But once they did things got a little better by the minute.
More blood. More iron. More blood taken from me to see my counts.
Days of poking, testing, poking, testing, more poking again…
The ablation was done on Sunday morning. I was out for a bit, procedure completed. Pain. Lots of pain. Anxiety and fear that the procedure wouldn’t work. Paranoia. Depression. I missed my kids… a lot!
Thankfully, I had some yarn and my crochet hook with me while I was enjoying my stay at hotel Memorial Hospital. My bestie came to sit and visit the day before I was discharged. She brought her yarn and hook as well, and we got to sit and crochet, sip coffee, and chat about all the happy things in life. It was an uplifting moment during a time when the walls were closing in!
The day I was discharged a dear friend came to visit and bring me coffee. She got to be my ride home, and boy was I GLAD to escape back to my home and my kiddos! That ride home was another uplifting moment in a dark time! We laughed together, caught up with each other on life, and she got to be a witness to another small miracle in my life that will be for another post, another day. I will say this, God’s timing is most definitely impeccable!
Fast forward to today:
The ablation did work. It took months for the effects of the blood clots and then the heavy bleeding to finally fall away, and I do still have some every now and then. But I am doing so much better today than I was 5 months ago!
The support I have received through these months has been amazing! Thank you all for keeping me in thoughts and prayers, and lending assistance while we walked this crazy road!
Ok, so we are picking up where we left off with the previous post.
I was sent home and a few days later my period started. Or at least we THINK it was my period.
And I bled…
And bled…
And for more than a week I bled…
And FINALLY on day 10, I figured something might be wrong, as it was getting worse instead of better after 7 days. It was getting worse.
I wasn’t just “bleeding” per say, I was hemorrhaging…to death. I just didn’t realize it at the time.
I called my mom to let her know something was up and I probably needed to go back to the ER. First, I knew I was low on fluids and dehydrated, so I figured if I went to the ER they would give me some fluids and do some tests, maybe keep me another day or two for observation again, and send me home.
I was very, VERY wrong.
What made it worse was that Rayne was still up when I left. It was pretty early in terms of nighttime hours, but Asher was in bed when he was supposed to be. Rayne, in her typical fashion, was determined to beat us all in terms of staying up late.
Rayne stood next to the door and said, “Where are you going Mommy?”
I gave her a hug and said “I’m just going to the doctor baby. I’ll be back.”
She held my neck super tight and said, “So you’re coming back to us?”
Y’all… that hit me hard. I knew something was up in my body. I just didn’t know how bad it truly was.
But in my heart of hearts I knew I was going to come back home. So, I told her so.
“Yes spanky. I’m coming right back. I just need to see the doctor first, okay? Will you go to sleep for bubby tonight?”
And she let me go, bouncing around on the couch all excited about being home with her teenage brothers. “Okay mommy! I’ll go to sleep later!”
And I walked out the door……….
Mom and I had short conversations about stuff on the way to the ER: Kids, the possible outcomes of the ER visit, Rayne asking me if I was coming right back… my mommy heart was aching. But my body was exhausted!
We got there and the receptionist asked who was there and what for. I told them I had been there previously for the other issue and that something was very wrong because I’m bleeding, and it wasn’t stopping.
My heart rate was through the roof. I couldn’t see straight. I couldn’t breathe, but I was on blood thinners so the lung issue was better… however the breathing trouble combined with the heart rate… (it was 144 merely after standing up from my bed and taking a few steps) they knew something was not right.
God bless those nurses! They were the same ones who saw me 13 days prior, as was the doctor!
We kept it pretty light-hearted for the most part, throughout the visit. Jokes were made about “Next time you wanna see us this bad, lets do lunch or something!” and “I’d prefer to see you at Wal-Mart instead of here!” And we all had some good giggles throughout.
There was talk about lung issues continuing even with the blood thinners, due to damage, long term effects of Covid, etc., UNTIL… the blood results came back.
The poor Dr came into the room and said, “Remember all those things I said about your lungs earlier?”
I held my breath… “Yeah?”
“So, forget all of that. You have lost a LOT of blood, and you are bleeding to death… slowly.”
Fan-Tastic…
So, they set me up with two transfusions right there in the ER while we waited for more instructions and direction as to what was about to happen with me.
I’m already a hot mess, hearing that I’m just slowly leaking life right out of myself, my child was worried about me not coming home that night and here I was, lying in a bed with liquid life starting to flow through me from another source… not knowing if I was going home anytime soon or not.
Doc comes back later and says I’m going to be transported to the hospital where my OBGYN performs surgeries, and I will be looking at a possible emergent hysterectomy!
The only issue (not a small one either) is that, in my county, there is only one ambulance that runs between 11pm and 7am. So… I have to lay in agony and frustration, and my own blood no less, until 7am to be transported.
THEN………. To make matters even MORE interesting. The doc comes in and says, “we are going to pack (your area) to prevent more hemorrhaging until you get to your destination.”
Yall…
You guys…
I will spare you all the horrid details of that portion of the night. But I will say that the morphine shot I got afterwords was a GODSEND!!
That shot, however, did not make it into my veins until about 20 minutes prior to my transport to the next destination. So… I was suffering for some time prior. Much time.
I tell my mom to go get some sleep, because the coming day is going to SUCK for everyone, and she goes home to rest in her recliner for a couple of hours until it was time for her to get all my kiddos ready for school.
I didn’t rest at all. I was struggling. Physically, mentally, emotionally… I was a hot mess!
What was happening to me? Why was this happening to me? Would I get better? I had no idea. And I had no idea when I would see my kiddos again. I even laid there wondering IF I would see them again!
Dark places, that’s where my mind went.
Finally, the hour of my transport came. Thankfully the medics moving me were people I knew from my work as a police officer in the past. It was a good ride… the morphine helped my disposition for the journey, I’m sure. LOL
I got lots of well-wishes from the staff in the ER as I was being prepped to roll out. We were all becoming such good friends… haha!!
I went in trying to assure them I’m not a “frequent flyer” and I left with all the best wishes and prayers following me that I could ever imagine getting. Gosh, what a wonderful crew! All of them!!
The ride to the next hospital was fun, entertaining, and full of “catching up” with old friends. We had good times.
Getting to the next ER was good. The temperature outside was GLORIOUS at our arrival. I made jokes about getting this bad on the worst day possible. I just wanted to sit outside. Not lay in some gurney in an ER awaiting my fate…
But wait, I did. In a tiny room at the backside of a hospital far from my kids, my home, my family, my work, all of the things that I do daily.
And part 3 will end this blog saga of my health scare of 2024… the first one anyway…
HOW MANY BLOG POSTS HAVE I STARTED AND NOT FINISHED OVER THE PAST MANY MONTHS??
MORE THAN I CARE TO COUNT OR ADMIT…
THE STRUGGLE HAS BEEN REAL, Y’ALL.
I LOVE TO ENCOURAGE PEOPLE AND SHARE ALL THE POSITIVE THINGS AND THOUGHTS I USE TO HELP ME GET THROUGH HARD TIMES, BUT OVER THE PAST YEAR, AT LEAST, I HAVE FOUND IT HARD TO BE THAT PERSON.
I WOULD TYPE UP SOMETHING THAT SOUNDS AMAZING AND THEN I’D READ IT.
AND I WOULD THINK TO MYSELF, “YEAH, YOU’RE LYING TO OTHERS AND YOU’RE LYING TO YOURSELF!”
AND THEN I WOULD ABANDON MY POSITIVE THOUGHT BLOG ATTEMPT.
AND AGAIN…
AND AGAIN…
FOR WEEKS AND THEN MONTHS ON END.
IN ALL HONESTY, IT’S NOT BECAUSE I WAS “LYING” TO ANYONE… I WAS STRUGGLING. I STILL AM.
LIFE ISN’T EASY.
IT’S FULL OF RESPONSIBILITIES, RULES, COMMITMENTS (TO SELF OR OTHERS), WORK, SCHOOL, LIVING UP TO EXPECTATIONS ALL AROUND YOU, AND THEN SOME… AND REPEAT.
I REACHED THE POINT WHERE I WOULD WAKE UP ONLY COUNTING THE HOURS TO THE NEXT TIME I COULD GO BACK TO SLEEP.
IT DIDN’T MATTER IF I HAD TO WORK THAT DAY. I WAS ON AUTOPILOT.
GET UP. GET EVERYONE TO SCHOOL. SIGN IN TO WORK. CHECK THE CLOCK. WORK. CHECK THE CLOCK. WORK. LUNCH. WORK. CHECK THE CLOCK. PICK UP KIDS. WORK. CHECK…. 5PM!!
GO TO BED.
IS THAT MY DAILY NOW? SOMETIMES. BUT NOT ANYWHERE NEAR WHAT IT WAS EVEN A COUPLE WEEKS AGO, THANKFULLY.
BUT I KNOW THE FIGHT IS NOT OVER.
DEPRESSION IS REAL.
IT DOESN’T HAVE TO HAVE A REASON TO BE PRESENT.
IT JUST IS.
ANXIETY IS THE SAME.
AND WHEN YOU HAVE THEM BOTH AT THE SAME TIME… THE NIAGARA OF YUCK THAT FALLS ON TOP OF YOU IS MORE THAN WORDS CAN DESCRIBE.
AND THEN YOU HAVE PEOPLE WHO DON’T GET IT.
MAYBE BECAUSE THEY DON’T HAVE THE DISORDERS YOU CARRY EVERY DAY OF YOUR LIFE. MAYBE THEY DO AND THEY ARE IN DENIAL. MAYBE THEY JUST DON’T CARE. THERE ARE A LOT OF PEOPLE OUT THERE WITH A LOT OF STORIES.
BUT…
WHEN YOU ARE TRYING TO FIX A HOUSE THAT WAS BROKEN BEFORE YOU EVEN MOVED IN.
WHEN YOU ARE TRYING TO HOLD YOUR CAR TOGETHER THAT IS ALSO FALLING APART FROM NEGLECT FOR YEARS BECAUSE OF THOSE WHO JUST “LET IT GO” AND RESET THE BUTTONS SO THE ENGINE LIGHT SHUTS OFF FOR ANOTHER 30 DAYS.
WHEN YOUR EMPLOYMENT IS JUST ENOUGH TO RID YOU OF MOST OF YOUR STATE ASSISTANCE BUT NOT ENOUGH TO PAY ALL OF THE BILLS AND RESCUE YOU FROM THE DEBTS FROM THE PAST.
WHEN YOU HAVE KIDS WHO ARE STRUGGLING WITH THINGS THEY CANNOT DESCRIBE OR HANDLE BECAUSE THEY ARE KIDS.
WHEN YOU ARE DOING IT AS A SINGLE PARENT.
WHEN SUPPORT IS CONDITIONAL OR SPARSE.
WHEN YOUR SELF-DOUBT OVERCOMES YOUR MOTIVATION OR POSITIVE THOUGHTS.
WHEN YOU LOOK AT YOUR FITBIT AND SEE 2,000 STEPS FOR THE WHOLE DAY AND THINK “AT LEAST I MOVED…”
WE ARE CRAWLING, FOLKS.
I’M IN THE TRENCHES. IT’S MUDDY. WET. RAINING… NO POURING! COLD. MISERABLE. DARK. AND DARE I SAY IT, QUITE LONELY.
SO, THIS IS WHERE I WILL TRY TO SAY SOMETHING POSITIVE AND BELIEVE IT.
THE TRENCHES CAN MAKE US OR BREAK US!
THIS IS WHERE WE ARE.
AS I SAID, IT’S GROSS. YUCKY, COLD, NASTY, HEAVY, AND REALLY HARD TO MOVE THROUGH.
BUT IF WE CAN KEEP CRAWLING, MAYBE WE WILL MAKE TO THE SHALLOW END, WHERE WE CAN KINDA GET UP ON THE KNEES AND EVENTUALLY BACK TO OUR FEET.
THEN, MY FRIENDS, WE CAN WALK.
IT’S A HOT MESS OUT THERE, AND IT’S A HOT MESS IN HERE!
BUT HERE, HERE IS WHERE WE CAN STRIP AWAY THE THINGS THAT WE DO HAVE CONTROL OVER. HERE, WE CAN BUILD ON WHAT WE HAVE.
WHO CARES IF OUR BUILDING MATERIALS ARE SCRAP RIGHT NOW?!
AS A CHILD I REMEMBER MY GRANDPARENT’S NEIGHBORS WHO WORKED WITH WOOD, CREATING BEAUTIFUL THINGS FOR WOODCRAFTING SHOWS, SELLING PIECES ALL OVER THE REGION.
I REMEMBER BEING A KID AND GOING TO THE NEIGHBOR’S BURN PILE TO PULL SCRAPS OF WOOD THEY DIDN’T DEEM PERFECT, AND PAINTING IT, BUILDING FURNITURE OUT OF IT, MAKING DÉCOR, AND MORE!
IT WAS PIECES THROWN AWAY FOR THEIR IMPERFECTIONS, AND YET WE CHILDREN SAW NOTHING BUT OPPORTUNITY AND POTENTIAL ALL OVER THOSE PIECES OF WOOD.
WE WOULD TAKE THOSE PIECES TO GRANPA’S BASEMENT WHERE IT WAS COLD, DAMP, AND QUITE MUSTY, AND WE WOULD CREATE OUR MASTERPIECES!
I’VE HAD SCRAPS (AND LESS) OVER THE PAST SEVERAL YEARS NOW.
MY WORKSPACE IS MUSTY, RUSTY, AND FALLING APART.
BUT MY GOD I HAVE PIECES OF IMPERFECTION THAT CAN BE MOLDED INTO SOMETHING AMAZING FROM THE TRENCHES I HAVE CRAWLED THROUGH OVER THE YEARS.
NOW, ALL I NEED ARE THE EYES AND IMAGINATION OF MY YOUTH.
THE INSPIRED THOUGHTS OF “THIS WILL BE SO AMAZING!” FLOODING THROUGH MY HEAD AS I GATHER UP WHAT ENERGY I HAVE TO MAKE MY MASTERPIECES.
AND MAYBE JUST A TAD OF THE ENERGY I HAD BACK THEN TO KEEP GOING AND GOING TILL I ACCOMPLISHED WHAT I WAS AIMING FOR.
BUT FOR TODAY MY FRIENDS, I WILL CRAWL.
I WILL CRAWL BECAUSE THAT IS ALL I CAN DO SO FAR.
I WILL CRAWL BECAUSE I KNOW I CANNOT STOP MOVING, NO MATTER WHAT.
I WILL CRAWL BECAUSE I KNOW THAT I CAN DO THIS, GET THROUGH THIS, AND RISE ABOVE THIS ON MY FEET WHEN I AM FINALLY ABLE TO STAND.
BUT, I WILL NEVER STAND IF I STOP CRAWLING NOW.
MAYBE NOT THE MOST POSITIVE THOUGHT FOR THE EVENING, OR THE WEEK FOR THAT MATTER, BUT I SURE FEEL BETTER NOW AFTER SHARING AND BARING MY HEART TO YOU ALL.
I miss activities, adventures, groups, friends, connections, etc.
Last night there was a football game at our high school. I have two boys who attend that school.
We did not go…
Last year, one of my sons expressed great interest in joining the football team, even took some steps to get there…
All the forward movement was halted when he had a sports physical that resulted in questions about his progress in puberty. He is less than three months from his fifteenth birthday.
There is no puberty.
Never was.
No signs of it even starting.
Instead, there is a nonactive tumor squishing his pituitary gland.
This is not about that, though. That is an entirely different story in itself.
This is about missing out… and trying to figure out why, how, and if we can fix this problem.
Yes, I’m being transparent here.
There’s a lot to say. There’s a lot to be transparent about.
Why? Because I know I’m NOT the only one who struggles with this, exact issue regarding “missing out.”
Let’s go back a few years (Okay maybe a decade or more…) when I was an active member of society.
I had high hopes and dreams for a future with kids in sports, clubs, doing all the things I was able to do as a child and even more! Cub Scouts, Sunday School, youth groups, school sports, little league sports, all the things.
Life threw a curve ball here and there… well, it threw a LOT of them.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I know everyone gets curve balls thrown at them! Again, major reason we are being transparent here…
I’m not special. My struggles are not “bigger than yours” but everyone handles every level of stress, negative life events, loss, and betrayals differently.
Me? Yeah… I hid from the world.
Long story short, a decade of less-than-healthy choices (both external and internal choices) lead me to isolating myself.
I was sad when those close to me didn’t get involved with the things I was so excited about for my kids. I was overworked being the only one who took them to events, helped with homework, projects, socializing them, etc. I was already struggling with my own depression and to add burn-out to the pile just shut me down.
And shut down I remained… for a solid three years. Minimum.
I hid myself and my family from the world.
I was tired of hearing falsehoods about myself and my family from people who didn’t even know me.
I was tired of being seen at the grocery store and then hearing a whole, new rumor about myself a week later from “concerned friends.”
I was tired of carrying a label. I was “the bad guy” in a lot of things. Everywhere I turned I didn’t see “friends” anymore. I saw spies. I saw liars. I saw betrayal at every turn.
Eventually, I stopped seeing anything good.
My vision was murky with pain, heartache, anxiety, depression, loss, and eventually… full-blown bitterness.
Bitter Becca. That’s what I dubbed myself.
Yep. I did. I wore my own title like a badge and shield.
It has taken me years to grow from the little, broken roots that I was cut down into.
Four years, to be exact.
I would take a step forward and then two steps back over the course of the past four years. Sometimes I would break even, and I would get so excited! Then another step back.
Of my 5 children, two are in special education classes. I have often wondered if I could have done something to prevent this from happening for them. Was it me? Did I not work hard enough to get them through to a higher level?
They don’t have many friends, limited to the ones secluded in these classrooms with them for their entire academic life.
My one, school-aged child who is not in such classes struggles with depression (possibly related to the puberty issue? We don’t really know), also very few friends, and the inability to follow through with many things. Again, I sit and wonder if I have ‘less-than-succeeded’ with him as well.
I lived years without taking my kids into society. School was it. They never asked to go to games, events, trips, etc.
My oldest did go to a couple of dances during Junior High, before Covid stole that from us. To see his face light up the way it did when he got home, telling stories about how fun the music was, learning some cool moves, the snacks and drinks they got to enjoy made my heart so glad.
Sometimes I wonder how that could be 4 years ago…
I sit in my bed, unable to sleep many nights, and reflect on things. I write in my journal, make lists in my notebooks, read books and my Bible, scroll FB and watch a world around me be social and active, and I have cried.
Not tears of depression.
Tears of fear. Actual Fear.
Because I want to go. I want to get out there.
But I have come so far mentally, emotionally, and even spiritually in my little isolated space that the thought of stepping out and ending up with another “step back” wrenches my gut!
My family, and my few, close friends can tell stories of me being excited about a thing and then talking myself out of it within minutes.
I want to be involved. I want my kids to be involved.
I’m just trying to figure out how to push past my fear. Fear that developed a lack of interest, motivation, and increased avoidance of public places and events.
My fears used to be focused solely on people talking. Over time it just became a fear of people, period.
I will say that I am happy Child #3 expressed interest in participating in the Labor Day Parade last week with his aunt. And he obviously had a blast!
My oldest expressed a renewed interest in music last night. Band, specifically.
In elementary school he wanted to be in the band. He struggled with the multi-step instructions and music reading, resulting in his not being given that desired opportunity.
He mentioned it again last night as we watched the band prepare for the football game.
My boys attend an e-sports group after school on some days, and yesterday happened to be one. As I was picking them up, people were arriving to the school to prepare for the game.
I mean… is it too late? Is he too old? Did I cause him to lose out on opportunities in life? These are questions I ask myself at night when I am alone in my room.
Can I turn some things around, upside right, and build us up from where we stand today?
I think I can one minute and then I question myself the next.
So, here in my transparent moment, I want to step up and step out.
Maybe the next football game, I won’t talk myself out of going.
Take a step. And then take another.
Someone recently told me that first steps are hard, and she is right. But they are necessary to keep going forward.
And like a baby learning to walk, I took my first ones a little shaky.
If there is anyone out there who is struggling, whether it be anxiety like me, addiction, depression, fear, or anything…
Just know I’m taking some first steps too.
We can start together.
And… we can make it to the top together.
I almost feel super pumped right now. Haha!
I just want to raise my fist in the air today and say “by golly I’m going to socialize! In person!”
And when I finally do… I’ll let you know how it goes. 😊
Thank you for enduring my transparent moment for the day.
Lately I have had a “few” bad days, but a LOT of bad moments.
How do I differentiate between the two? I’m so glad you asked!
Just this weekend I had a fibro flare up out of nowhere, and it lasted a total of 48 hours. THAT was a bad day. Two of them to be hourly specific.
In fact, three… because it started in mid-afternoon on Sunday and finally let up Tuesday evening.
The pain was debilitating, and nearly impossible to describe to anyone who has never experienced it before.
In August, when my entire family got Covid at the same time (minus me apparently… every test I took came back negative).
Those were some rough days.
Two weeks of them.
Kids having issues coughing, breathing, being sick, fevers, not eating or drinking anything, scaring me to death, and the slow recovery from the worst of it…
Bad. Days.
Now, perspective is everything when you take a situation and just call it a bad moment instead of a bad day.
I have a couple examples…
When the window on my car stopped rolling up, stuck at the bottom of the track, deep inside the door panel, and the window had to be covered with plastic for a while.
Sure, the plastic was there for a few weeks, but the only “bad” moments occurred when the window wouldn’t come up, and when my dad informed me that plastic was the only solution until a new motor device could be bought.
Two moments in a single day.
But the window was covered, and while we had plastic over it the window provided entertainment for the twins as we drove down the road.
With all it’s flapping and rustling sounds as the wind hit it at different rates of speed.
The day the tailpipe dropped out from under my car.
I was sitting with a friend, and we were cracking jokes about my license plate while looking at my car parked across the street.
I squinted and looked under my car, looked at her and said, “What is that? Do you see it?!”
She looked. “I have no idea. I didn’t notice it until you said something.”
I took a picture of it and sent it to my dad, who was in town THANKFULLY, and met me to look.
Yep. Tailpipe.
Literally hanging by a single, little bolt!!
Bad moment!
For weeks, until I could afford to fix it, I drove around with my tailpipe in the back of my car.
Oh, the looks we got when I opened the back hatch around other people!
“Oh, yeah that’s just the tailpipe…” would be my normal explanation.
But the car was still running. (Minus the days it decided not to start, but I digress…)
We could still get to school, daycare, and work every day.
I was frustrated, but I was thankful.
These were bad moments.
I could have easily taken these moments and turned them into bad days, but I did not.
Bad days exist! They really do. And they range anywhere from physical health, mental health, loss of loved ones, loss of homes, cars, many things. Bad. Days.
But, when something happens in a moment, something that may even last a while (plastic on the windows and tailpipes in the trunk), but you still have your home, job, health, family, friends, and that car still works decently well… it really is just a bad moment.
We cracked jokes about how much louder my car was without the tailpipe (It was already super loud WITH the thing).
We had fun with the plastic covering over the open window. Even with all the stink bugs that would get stuck in the crack of it!
Yes, I was frustrated multiple times and days over the same, little things. But I didn’t let it last. I couldn’t.
It truly was just a bad moment.
My Pastor’s Wife told me that my new name was Murphy at one point this year. Every time I texted her, it was to tell her about something ELSE that happened, broke, stopped working, etc…
She said, “I love you, but if you didn’t have bad luck… you wouldn’t have any luck at all!”
And you know what? We Laughed! Because it was humor in the moment AFTER the bad moment happened.
And laughter is the best medicine in a bad moment.
A boss of mine told me I’m too cheerful, to the point it’s scary.
Another one told me my positive outlook was inspiring.
Both of them have seen me at highs and lows. They know about a lot of my bad moments, and all my bad days (at least in the past 12 months anyway). And both of them have commended me on my ability to handle stressful situations in my life.
Is my ego inflated?
NOPE!
Because I didn’t get here by being perfect.
I got here by going through some serious yuck.
I had to learn how to let go of the bad moments and let them be “moments” instead of turning them into bad “days”.
Yes, these are labels… with NO cans
I could spend plenty of time describing all the bad moments and days of the past year alone, and it would bring none of us to any good by the end.
Instead, I would rather tell you that, in the bad moments you can find good.
You can reach through that ugly place that tries to crush you in the moment, and turn it into a bad day, and rise above it.
If you can’t reach through the first time, that’s okay!
I didn’t!
I probably didn’t on the 100th time either!
But I got there. And so can you.
I can say with absolute certainty that my victories and my ability to rise above has come directly from the Peace that my God has given me.
It surpasses all comprehension.
It calms my soul, my mind, and my heart.
It gets me through my bad moments, and my bad days.
And that peace comes from giving the bad moments and days up, and letting the hand of God hold you and carry you through.
And that, my friends, is what the next blog post will be about.
