Revisiting love

I wrote the following five years ago. I still believe in the power of love,  I have added yet another layer to my understanding. 

What I hadn't covered in this writing was the love of self. I believed it to be a form of conceit. "Love thyself" was a term that simply didn't really apply to me. I mean, I see every detail of myself. I found myself really rather annoying. Like. I just wanted to get up and leave the room. But couldn't.

It took finally cutting the toxic people out of my life in order to do so.  I may have went to the complete extreme and cut more than I should have, but I'm not known for moderation. It's go big or go home.

In doing so, I've found that the characteristics that they considered faults are actually endearing. I know because I look for the same "faults" in other people. "Oh, you like to say socially unacceptable things? I do too!"  "You have a self depreciative sense of humor!Let me tell you about the time I...."  "You don't want to socialize and would rather just stay home and read or watch tv while eating cookie dough from the tube instead? OMG BEST FRIDAY NIGHT EVER!"


Five years ago....


 I read an Email from a friend about his wife passing away,  how he and his daughter held her hand and gave her permission to go home.    He told her not to fight for him anymore, to go be with Jesus.  How much strength did that take? She was the love of his life,  and I realized how much I want that.  How much a couple has to fight to stay married. It involves a lot of giving and taking, holding...and letting go.  I cried not because she went home, her journey was done.  But because of the Love, because I'm sure it hurt so much to say goodbye, yet knowing that was what had to be done.

I went  on a walk with my Girls today.  I looked around, appreciating their cold kissed cheeks,  their dirty muddy coats that meant they had played outside today, Their laughter as they yelled at the turkeys in the field,  how much fun they had talking to the Landlords cows that we went over to see.  What Humbeled me, was the fact that God himself orchestrated all of this.  He knew that I had some stressful things go on, that I could have melted into an anxiety attack, but I chose to look for love, for mercy, for Great things.

The storm within.

 A normal day that began with me sleeping in.
Waking up and checking my phone.
Driving in to work, only to not be needed.

 I was on edge: uncomfortable, fidgety, Anxious.
The beginnings of a headache that I was sure would turn into a migraine.
I just couldn't get comfortable.

Let's go for a drive.  Destination: the local food co op.  It's hot and humid out.  The air conditioning annoys me. Sounds begin to irritate me. I'm sweating. My head is still kind of throbbing.  I'm tired.
We get our groceries. We drive home.

The sky opens up, the rain falls. The barometer drops.  The headache recedes. I'm calmed.

The Rabbit Hole

Allow me to take you through what I perceive as a normal person's day:
Wake up.  Shower, Put on the clothes that were laid out the previous evening, have a cup of coffee head to work.
Say good morning to their coworkers, do their job, eat some lunch, do some more job stuff. Go home, spend time with their family and go to bed.

Now, Allow me to take you through my day.
Wake up. Run through every single thing I need to do. Who I need to talk to and about what.  Shower.  Fight a battle with the laundry basket full of clothes that my daughters dropped the shampoo in.  Put on my scrubs. Decide I hate those scrubs today and change.  Get upset that there's no coffee made. Wait for my ride to work.
Say good morning to my coworkers. Listen to the previous day's/night's adventures.  Do job stuff.  Eat. Do more job stuff. Wait for my ride to go home.
Kiss my sleeping kids. Or if it's Saturday, hang out with them.

Yes,. I oversimplified the "normal" person.  I tend to see the world in black and white, good and bad.  Having anxiety throws me even further off the edge. I want to be that normal person. I don't want to say stupid things. I don't want to live in constant fear that the sky is falling but I can't do anything about it.

We toss the word anxiety around, using it to define being uncomfortable or nervous . A difference does actually exist. Anxiety is the Flight or Fight reaction constantly engaged. Waiting for calamity. I'm already stressing over interactions that may or may not happen a week from now.  I've already mentally prepared for divorce even though my marriage isn't suffering.  I prepare to be fired the moment I walk into the door at work. I'm in constant fear that child protective services will show up at my door and remove my children because their clothes aren't perfect.

This is me. This is my thought process. Yes, I know. BREATHE. Sometimes, that's easier said than done.

Dear Resident

Dear Resident,
Tonight was really rough. I didn't want to come to work. I wanted to sit in my pajamas, sipping coffee and spending time with my family.  But I put on the scrubs anyway, feeling like some kind of Martyr going out to make the world a better place.

 I kissed the bearded face of my husband before leaving, hugged my daughters.  Only to later that evening hear you crying because you didn't know where your family was.  That you wanted to go home.  Who was I to have the audacity to tell you that this place was your home? This room filled with a few choice items from your past.

We served dinner, I heard you tell the stories of owning a restaurant. I looked down at my plate, the food at least home made, but probably not what you had served.  What would you give to make recipes that your mother passed down? I was reminded to be grateful the next time I served dinner at home.

I took my shower for granted this morning. Loving the hot water steaming up the room.  My favorite body wash and shampoo.  I dread waking you up, removing you from your warm bed, and wheeling you to the shower room.  I try to be gentle, make sure the water is the right temperature,  But you don't want a shower. You have a perfectly working shower at home. Why can't you go home?

Dear resident, my heart breaks.  It breaks every time I tell you that this is your home now.  Every time your children leave and the tears start to fall. I see the role reversal, the daughter taking care of the mother.  Tucking her in and kissing her good night.  You mean that much more to me, seeing how loved you are outside of the home, and seeing them draw breaths and wipe away tears as they regain composure to return to their families.

I apologize for every time that I forget that I'm young, take my independence for granted, Every time I give a sigh when you say that you need to use the bathroom again, or when I push your wheel chair too fast, or I can't understand what you're trying to say.

You've lived a full life, mine is just beginning.  Thank you for teaching me all that you have.

Pinterest Fail

Last night, I hung out in a blanket fort.  Of course, I'd researched on Pinterest the proper means to do so.  We ended up doing it wrong.  See, rather than hanging it from the ceiling and bringing pallets into the house, we grabbed a broom,  two kitchen chairs, about ten blankets and two Christmas tree poles.

Our blankets didn't match, and we didn't have twinkly lights for ambiance.  We however, had cats that thought it was a cave to claim.

We didn't pull a book in and curl up and read.  Instead, Samantha told me to scoot over because she didn't have room and her head was resting on the broom.  The Cat walked over my head. And then Sam started tickling me. I retaliated. My husband said we were being too loud.

Eventually, Autumn joined the fun climbing in, over the two of us, knocking the fort down, and sending us into giggles that made our sides hurt. We struggled out of the blankets, gasping for breath, laughing.  

We lay on the floor, the three of us, catching our breath.  I looked over at my husband, who just shook his head.

"Mom.  That was AWESOME. Can we do that again sometime?  Blanket forts are fun, especially when they fall on you." 

So, I may have failed on pinterest. But I rocked Monday night.

Thawed out

When I was younger, I occasionally would wander outside and pretend that I was exploring the Arctic Tundra. I would step lightly, hoping that my feet wouldn't break through the snow. The dog would become a polar bear, I'd build a pathetic snow fort and call it an igloo.

Then I would go inside and warm up. 

It was fun, while it was just pretend. However this winter seems to be have been the real thing.

At first, I thought it was in my head that this winter was the coldest EVER. But talking with my husband's 90 year old Grandmother, and looking back through records...It was the coldest winter. EVER.

But how did we survive? Well.

Travis took to heart the entire hibernation belief and has not come out of the bedroom since November. I occasionally shove pieces of raw meat under the door to ensure his survival.  He's beginning to rouse. Though I'm not sure through the facial hair if that's really him, or not.

Autumn and Samantha have taken to creating puppet shows using nothing but their hands. We've used all the socks to make long johns for the cat.

When it became exceptionally cold, we took all of the furniture in the house and burned it. 

Hopefully, soon, we can come back to the real world and experience Spring once again.

I don't wanna grow up

Monday mornings at 6 am the house is still chilly. I wake the daughters. They groan as the stretch and half heartedly ask if they can stay home. I say yes, Daddy says no. They get dressed, brush their teeth and hair, and meet the school bus thirty minutes later.
I climb back into bed, wanting to stay there for the rest of the day. I do not want to do laundry, dishes, job search or work out. I just want to stay in my pajamas with my unbrushed hair and teeth.

Remember when we used to want to be grown ups because we thought they had all the fun? And could do whatever they want? We were wrong. Sure, I could stay in bed and avoid responsibility. But then the girls wouldn't come home to a warm dinner, clean clothes for tomorrow, and would think that laziness was an awesome way of life. (Well, sometimes....)

Being a grown up DOES have it's perks. occasionally.
I get to drink coffee. That's exciting. I can run outside with just my socks on and no one can yell at me. (I have yelled at the girls for that.) AND I get to hang out with friends whenever I want. Which would be awesome if they weren't all as busy as me trying to raise their children.

As I move forward, cleaning and cooking, (and taking Pinterest/Facebook breaks) I will realize today that my chores are discipline for all of the times I'd wished I was an adult while growing up. I may pout, but then remember....I can eat chocolate whenever I want and no one can stop me.