Who would have thought I’d be sitting here, staring at a screen trying to figure out what to even say…
I probably just need to ramble on a bit so I can get some of these swirling thoughts to align themselves into something productive. Ha!
This has been a very busy year for my family.
A year of many changes, and many firsts.
The first house I bought, on my own!
I also bought my first truck on my own!
One of my children has joined the military and is currently in basic training.
My daughter was in a Miss Metropolis pageant last November, and she is going again this year, because her crown was broken and she NEEDS a new one (so she says).
I’ve taken a new liking to Football. That began last year when Levi was a senior and in the band. We went to all the home games, and it was FUN! I actually got out and mingled with people! I had forgotten how that felt.
Then, I started watching pro football.
And… I met someone.
And after a while, he gave me a ring.
And while I have gone on and on about all these other things, this man is the best change I have experienced in this past year!
Many years ago, my godmother Debbie had me write a list. This list would include all the things I wanted in a man. She put it in her Bible and prayed for my “husband” every day until the day she died.
One thing on that list, the very first thing actually, was that he would “love me like Jesus.”
Now, my 16-year-old-self had no clue what depth of a man I was generating with my list. I went on to write looks, height, gifts and talents, but the top remained the same. It was what meant the most to me.
Who would have thought that would be EXACTLY what I needed almost thirty years later!
Let’s think about it for a second, though.
How does Jesus love us?
He loves us in ways that we cannot fully comprehend.
He carries us when we fall. He forgives us EVERY time we fail Him.
He gives us choices, options, suggestions, ideas, inspiration, and more options and choices. And He lets us make our choices.
If those choices align with His guidance, awesome!
If we falter or fail, make mistakes, or even screw something up on purpose, He simply waits for us to put our head back on straight and picks right back up with us again. His forgiveness is eternal.
He walked on this earth and endured many hardships, for us. He took beatings for us. He DIED for us. He went to Hell and back for us!
No matter what we have done, where we have gone, how hard we have fallen, His Grace is unending, and His Mercy and Healing always present.
This man, this amazing man who has entered my world has carefully peeled back the layers and layers of shields and walls I spent decades building around my heart, my mind, and my person.
He walked with me deep into old wounds, where the exposure had been excruciating, but for months I did not see that healing was also taking place. I was too busy in my own head, struggling with my defenses and holding back.
In the process, trying to keep my walls intact, I also missed that I was also hurting him.
And every time, he would remind me that he is not going anywhere.
Who would have thought…
Almost two years ago I started a new journal. In that journal I decided to begin it with writing several things that I liked about myself.
However, over the course of this past year, specifically March to now, I couldn’t conjure a single thing that I liked about myself.
I unknowingly succumbed to the monster that is depression that tried to suck me under a decade ago. Its claws were deep in each revealed scar from my past, holding them open despite the loving touch of the man who’s only sin against me was wanting to love EVERY part of me. The good. The bad. The hidden.
And for the first time in my life, in any relationship, in any part of my existence, the hidden parts are seen, and I am not judged. I am loved. All of me.
My walls were telling me that I was being exposed, hurt, humiliated, and broken.
What was actually happening was a process of healing. You can’t heal what you don’t know is there. With each wound, each scar, each hurt revealed, as far back as my teen years, I have begun to change.
Steady loving hands have held me when I cried, steadied me when I faltered, and supported me when the realization hit me that weights are lifted.
And then, who but the man himself that God dropped in my space would have the absolute nerve to remind me that God is the healer of our pains.
He read scriptures. Talks about “God first”. Prays over me and for me.
Nobody said love is easy, painless, or always pretty.
And nobody would ever say that loving someone like Jesus loves us is even just a little hard.
And yet, such a love has found me, embraced me, and given me more than I knew I ever needed.
To the teenager who wrote her little list that was tucked into a Bible and prayed over for many years, I would say Thank You. Because God inspired a girl who would never understand His love in its entirety for at least 25 years to ask for it to come in the form of a man.
Who would have known, and none of us never do until it hits, that Mercy and Love are always there. It never went anywhere. And no matter how far you think you may have walked away from it, no matter how far you think you may have fallen from it, that love is PRESENT. Because God is always present, and with His presence is that love. The unexplainable, unimaginable love that I hope each of you get to experience and share.
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…
It also flies when you have no idea what you are doing, or when you have no clue “what just happened here?!”
All the above have been the nutshell of my entire 2024 thus far.
It’s been such a whirlwind that I have no idea where to start!
I know, I know! “Start at the beginning!”
I’ll likely have to do this in parts, due to the amount of writing that will be going into this post. I have a lot of emotions, events, and more that I need to get off my chest, so to speak… so bear with me.
I am going to preface this by saying there will be talk of female issues, medical issues, hospital stays, and a little trauma.
You have now been warned…
Instead of the beginning I shall start at the end… of 2023 that is.
After Christmas, I saw my doctor to talk about options for helping with my HORRIBLE periods, because I was about to do my office rotation for work and my monthly was going to fall on the day I started said rotation. Not good.
After considering my options, I made an informed decision to begin a birth control to help with the situation. I was happy about my choice, and excited to see if this was finally the answer I had been searching for with my situation!
And thus, the journey began…
Things were going well. January came and my rotation began on January 16.
I started to feel sluggish, low on energy, and had minor difficulty with breathing now and then. Everyone else was catching the Flu, Covid, and adults were struggling with RSV as well in my area. I figured I was catching something and didn’t think about it.
Well, I never ran a fever, and I never had any of the other symptoms everyone else was having. It was fatigue and chest tightness for me.
After a week of it getting progressively worse, I made an appointment with my Dr to get it figured out.
After being told I have aggressive allergies, based on my symptoms I agreed, I was given prescription and sent on my way.
My symptoms continued to get worse. To the point that getting off my bed set my heart rate into the 130’s and my ability to breathe without pain was much, much less.
Two days later, I was in the ER. I was worse. In the defense of the doctors, I had only been on my meds for 36 hours and we all know that’s not long enough for basic medication.
The ER agreed with the first diagnosis, again understandable because of the symptoms, and I was given a steroid shot and some steroids to take along with the other medications. That was Wednesday night.
Thursday morning, January 25, I could not get up without my heart rate hitting the 140’s, and all I did was get off my bed to use the bathroom. Sitting up in a chair had my heartrate in the 120’s, and it would not go down! I was getting nervous at this point, and I called off work that morning.
By that afternoon, I knew something was off. Way off!
That evening, Levi drove me to the hospital again, 20 hours after I was there the first time.
The same ER staff was there who was there the night before, and we all shared a giggle at seeing each other again so soon.
After listening to my new and worsening symptoms, they decided to do some extra testing. This is when they found several blood clots in my lungs. But we are getting ahead of ourselves here. This is where the emotions and mental strain comes in…
Levi sat with me all night long. He never fell asleep. He sat up and played on his phone, played on my phone, we talked and had some good chuckles and whatnot.
Around 8am my dad picked him up from the hospital and I told him to just go home and sleep instead of going to school. The poor kid was a zombie! And he was so diligent keeping an eye on his mama.
My sister drops in to see me after her shift working midnights, and it was just after Levi walked out and she walked in that the ER Dr came in to tell me, “I have bad news…”
Now, everyone agrees that it was definitely divine intervention that took Levi home and my sister came to the room minutes before that Dr came in, because she was a ROCK! My sister is superwoman!
As the Dr began to explain what was found and what the treatment would be, I spaced out entirely. I went numb. Shock, maybe? I don’t know. But she saw it, and she kept her eyes on me while listening to this man speak. When I came back to reality JUST enough, she caught my eye and held her hand up toward me and said, “You’re going to be okay. You’re okay.” And at that point the Dr, who (bless his heart) was just rambling on stopped and looked at my stunned self and repeated her words. He reassured me that they were going to do some medications to help with the clots instantly, admit me for a day or two to keep me monitored, and then send me home with blood thinners.
It was at this point he started talking about what can cause blood clots. Anything from a blood disorder to some other stuff, and then he said “extra hormones” and both me and my sister straightened up, looking at each other with that “Ah Yes!” expression. The Dr noticed and asked, and I told him about the BC I am on. “Ok, get that out now! I’ll give you privacy and get your admit paperwork started.” He said as he jumped quickly from his chair. Honestly, I giggled because he acted like he was being chased from the room by the very mention of the Nuva Ring. Haha!
My mom arrived shortly after, once she saw all the kiddos to their school locations, and my sister said she would meet her in the waiting room to give her the update. I’m glad she did. Again, my sister was the hero of the morning when she told Mom what was going on and kept everyone nice and calm about the situation.
I was admitted to that hospital for observation, heart monitors and wires all attached to me. I went along with everything everyone was doing. Mom sat with me in the hospital room as I was being admitted, endured all the questions and answers, and watched as they gave me my first shots and vital checks after admit into the room.
Y’all… I slept better there than I had in WEEKS!!
Probably because I was sick and getting worse, and the medications stopped that from happening, plus it was VERY quiet where I was all day and all night, and at home it is always the absolute opposite of quiet.
When I was released back home I was on Blood Thinners and instructions to follow up with doctors after release.
I did see my primary after all of this and we talked about what had happened, what was expected, and what we would be doing during that time in between.
And then I went home feeling like I was going to be okay, but still a little worried about the upcoming menstrual cycle that would be happening not long after…
And four days later, it did.
And this is where I leave you for this first chapter. Don’t hate the messenger. I’m just typing when I get time! LOL!
We will continue with the next post, as it will be as long, or longer, than this one!!
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.
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