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.
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. 😊
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!!
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.
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30 seconds
__utmx
Used to determine whether a user is included in an A / B or Multivariate test.
18 months
__utmv
Contains custom information set by the web developer via the _setCustomVar method in Google Analytics. This cookie is updated every time new data is sent to the Google Analytics server.
2 years after last activity
__utmz
Contains information about the traffic source or campaign that directed user to the website. The cookie is set when the GA.js javascript is loaded and updated when data is sent to the Google Anaytics server
6 months after last activity
__utmc
Used only with old Urchin versions of Google Analytics and not with GA.js. Was used to distinguish between new sessions and visits at the end of a session.
End of session (browser)
_gac_
Contains information related to marketing campaigns of the user. These are shared with Google AdWords / Google Ads when the Google Ads and Google Analytics accounts are linked together.
90 days
__utmb
Used to distinguish new sessions and visits. This cookie is set when the GA.js javascript library is loaded and there is no existing __utmb cookie. The cookie is updated every time data is sent to the Google Analytics server.
30 minutes after last activity
__utmt
Used to monitor number of Google Analytics server requests
10 minutes
__utma
ID used to identify users and sessions
2 years after last activity
Jetpack's built-in visitor analytics. It records page views, referring sites, search terms, and outbound link clicks, and also carries the shared visitor-tracking library used by Jetpack Instant Search and WooCommerce Analytics.
