Broken

It's been a tough few months around here and an awesome long weekend away thrown in for good measure.

I'm certainly feeling less....lost. As much as I hated to admit I even needed them, the anti-depressants are helping. I'm starting to enjoy life again. I didn't realize how much I'd missed cleaning until the last few weeks. I've been cross stitching, and reading, and sewing, and I'm happy about it. I don't feel like it's being forced on me. I'm finding the joy and relaxation in it that I had missed out on for so many months. I'm still not ready to go back to school, but I hope to be more enthused about that when it gets a little closer.

I'm still suffering from some abdominal pain from the c-diff. Man, that is some crappy stuff. Literally and figuratively. Thankfully, the pills that the specialist gave me to help reduce the inflammation in my colon have gotten their act together and are in fact, working. I've had less pain the last few days, and I'm hoping this trend continues. I'm still having to be so very, very careful about what I eat, too much fiber, not enough fiber, too much grease, not enough grease, too much veggies, not enough...it's a very, very fine line. And when I don't walk the tightrope, I pay for it. I don't sleep as well, I don't feel as well. I'm still very, very tired, and I keep hoping that pushing myself to get some additional exercise will stop that, but it seems to just exhaust me more. I keep trying to remind myself, often, that 18 months is the average to get over c-diff, and that's without complications like I keep having. 18 months. It's been two.

Patience should be like money and grow on trees. Life would be so much simpler. Until someone stole your money and patience off your tree.

I've written tons of post the last month, I'm just trying to find the right time to post them. Some of them seem so...lost. I'd like to go back and re-write them and let the less crazy version of me come through. There's enough crazy on the internet without me adding to it.

The good news is, I'm on the mend. Between the pills, and the prayers, I'm finally being put back together. I'm finding that I'm less heartbroken than I was a month ago. It's an improvement, one that I will certainly take.

In Like a Lamb...Out Like a Lion?

Arg. Le sigh.

After Gertie the gallbladder, ended last semester with a bang, I wanted to finish my college career without any more "bangs". Apparently I didn't send that memo to the right person.

Saturday night I'm quite sure I had a puke on the side of the road experience that even drunk college students would be jealous of.

My husband had a Meat & Greet (yep spelled it that way on purpose) with his bosses and co-workers on Saturday night. I was excited to have a night away and some amazing Cagle's BBQ for dinner. So we were partying the night away. After dinner, I started feeling icky, but after an early appointment the middle of the week for some antidepressants (yep, I caved), I figured that it was the new meds. As they had already caused some other symptoms. So I wasn't too concerned, I just preferred not to barf on my husband's boss. Thankfully things ended and we left before I got sick. I told my husband that I wasn't feeling well, but he had been drinking, and I drove us home. The closer that we got to home, the more I was concerned about actually making it home before I had to hurl. I was doing the whole, breathe in, breathe out thing, and I was almost there. We turned onto our street, and I took another deep breath, and ... well, I'll spare you the details. But let's just say that down the street from us was a pile of vomit in the middle of the street. Because I was driving, I sorta used my shirt to ...um...catch the stuff while I could pull over.

So here I am, standing in the street in jeans, flip flops, and a shirt, covered in barf. Not wanting to get back into my less than year old car covered in puke, I took my shirt off, and did what any self respecting 33 year old would do. I left it in the street.

Yep. I abandoned my shirt in front of a complete stranger's house. I never really liked that shirt anyway. So it wasn't that big of a loss. My husband was kinda impressed that I got naked in the middle of the street though. I was impressed that I managed to drive 3 more blocks to our house and not puke, or get puke on anything else.

I've got a nasty bacterial intestinal infection called c diff. So, no school, no work for a couple of weeks, because I'm contagious. They don't want me to start an epidemic  They are totally no fun at all. Everyone should experience uncontrollable vomiting and diarrhea at least once in their life. I mean, where is there sense of adventure?

Tonight, I read an email from my advisor, because I'm trying to figure out how this semester is going to work itself out and I learn that my professors don't have to work with me. I'm sick. I'm staying home trying to get better, trying to make this work and turn in stuff via email and salvage some of my GPA for this semester, when I learn that it's up to the professors discretion. They can fail me for being sick and following doctor's orders and avoiding the faculty and staff. Even employees are protected by employment laws, but as a student, I apparently have no rights. They won't trust my doctors notes and information that I'm sick. That I'm actually protecting them. Isn't that awesome?

It seems like this week has dealt us a lot of blows. I'm getting limited funds for school for the fall and spring semester. Now I could be facing another F on my GPA. I worked my ass off this semester to attempt to make up for the F I got last semester, and now...well apparently, because I got infected from someone else with c diff, I'm stuck at home paying for their sins. Heck, they might have just been a desperate college student trying to avoid failing their semester, like I am.

Some days, I just would like things to work out for us, and not make things so difficult. Le sigh.

A Life Wasted

It's hard to believe that it's been a year. Granted last year wasn't all that super fantastic, but it's still hard to believe that my ex-brother in law has spent the last year in jail awaiting trial for sexually abusing my niece.

Last week he was found guilty and sentenced to 55 years in prison and a $7000 fine.

Instead of the relief that I thought I would feel, I find myself sad. Granted, I'm thankful that he isn't going to get away with the abuse to my niece and nephew, but I'm sad nonetheless.

Scott was a smart guy. And when he wasn't trying to prove how much better he was than anyone else, he was actually a nice guy. Once he and my sister split up, they both had a huge personality change and I wasn't complaining about either change. He opened up and he felt less compelled to make everything a "I know more than you do" conversation. I had a few decent conversations with him that didn't end with me wanting to beat him with whatever object was nearby and easily assessable.

I don't like being told that I don't know what I'm talking about when I do. If I don't know that's one thing, but when I actually grew up on a farm and raised cows, don't tell me that city boy knows more than I do. Not if you value your life.

Anyway. When we found out that Scott had been arrested and that there was proof he was sexually abusing my niece, I was just so....shocked. I trusted that man. I agreed that he should have custody of the kids the bulk of the time. I felt like I had let my niece and nephew down, by supporting him in his endeavor to get the majority of custody with the kids. I was disappointed that he had fooled us all so, so well. I couldn't believe that we didn't see him for the person that he truly was.

Yet, after a year of waiting, hoping, and praying that he wouldn't get away with the abuse. After a year of conversations with my niece, after a year of conversations with my nephew and knowing that he sent that innocent little boy to bed hungry, simply because he didn't want to give him more than 5 minutes to eat, I'm still sad.

The anger quickly wore off, and the only question I wanted answered was "What were you thinking?"

While I am relieved that the trial is over, and that maybe now, knowing that Scott was going to federal prison and wouldn't be able to "find her" that my niece might have a night where she didn't wake up in fear if she heard a car door outside her window. No child should have to live in fear of a parent. Ever.

 I'm sad at a life that was wasted. Scott had the opportunity to be so much more, to do so much more. Yet, he'll be 93 when he gets out of prison (assuming he serves all 55 years). He will have spent more of his life behind bars than he would a free man. If he manages to get out before then, he'll have to register as a sex offender. He won't be able to go back to his job as a certified nurse's aid. He will have wasted his life over one bad decision. One bad choice. One mistake, that the moment he made it, there was no turning back. I wonder if he knew that. I wonder if he realized what his life would become when he was caught.

Every choice that you make has some type of consequence. Good or bad. Talk about a wake up call.

I went to the gym this morning. The brownie I ate this afternoon pretty much undid all the sweating I did this morning. Sure, the brownie saved me from killing a co-worker, but it had consequences to my overall goal of losing some weight. I guess the one thing I can say about this whole ordeal has been that I've thought more about the choices that I've made. Every bite of that brownie just reminded me of all that sweating I was deleting. I've thought more about how that decision, how that choice will change my life. Sure, in the grand scheme of things that brownie won't make much difference. Unless I have one every single day, and then it will have a greater impact.

My point with all of this, his life could have been so different. All it took was one choice, that shouldn't have ever been an option, to change his life forever.

So, what are you going to do now?

....In sickness and in health

Well, it's true. I've spent the past month testing out those vows.

About 2 weeks before my birthday (roughly the first of September), I had a few days where I just didn't feel that great. But, school had just started back up, and there was lots of pressure being put on me for this semester, and I just blew it off as stress.

Fast forward to the Wednesday before my birthday. Enter nausea and general feelings of ickiness. Really?!? I'm going to be sick on my birthday. Seriously? So, I just tried not to hurl. Then Sunday. Oh Sunday. Sunday, September 23rd, will go down in history as the first day, that I would have gladly let someone perform weird science experiments on me to quickly end the pain.

Fast forward to the afternoon trip to the ER. They "thought" (you'll understand the quotes by the end) it was my gallbladder. Sent me off to do a CT scan, but I refused pain meds, because let's face it I had two tests I was trying to study for. I didn't have time for narcotics. So, CT scan showed my gallbladder to be okay. Well, at least non-life threatening. So, they gave me some drugs for nausea and pain and sent me home to study.

Spent the week thinking that I was going to die. Luckily I had a doctor's appointment on Wednesday. The "doctor" (you'll understand these quotes later too), and I'll use that term here loosely, said that some of my symptoms didn't match, but the pain was consistent with gallbladder, so "against her better judgment" she would send me for an ultrasound, because she would hate to be wrong. So on Friday, I had an ultrasound done to check the gallbladder out. According to the results, there were no stones, but the pain was also better than it had been earlier in the week. So, the "doctor" informs me to just enjoy the weight loss, and that not to be worried that I can't eat, can't drink, and have fairly decent pain, and she would see me again in a few weeks. Hopefully it would work itself out. Nice.

So, after the big time brush off, and after being told repeatedly, that "it was all in my head". I began to believe it. I figured, okay, maybe it's nothing. Maybe the older I get, the lower my pain tolerance has gotten. Maybe it's just a muscle being spazzy. Maybe, maybe, maybe. So I gave up. I thought that everything would eventually (probably about the same time I graduated) work itself out.

Then, about 2.5 weeks ago, I had a day of pain, nausea and it was a general day full of suck. So, I found a new doctor, hoping that this one would show some concern and not take the "wait and see" approach. So, I went. She thought, gallbladder. So she sent me for a HIDA scan. Which, was the longest 2.5 hours of my life. Take a nap, they tell me. Sure, because I've always wanted to take a nap, laying on a 2x4 with a pillow that makes paper look fluffy, in a room that apparently doubles as a meat locker on the weekends. Sure. I'll get right on that. I can't lay on my back because of the pain, so that was just a great, relaxing moment where I wanted to take a nap. Right.

So, my gallbladder, whom I have named Gertie played nice. Even after I barfed on the technician because she told me I had to chug an 8oz can of Ensure. Have you had Ensure? It's the nectar of the devil. It's awful, it has a weird after taste, it smells, it's thick. (Burp) Sorry, apparently the memory of the stuff is enough to get my stomach rolling again. So, I drink. I lay down, I tell them I'm going to vomit. I was told to breathe. Well, after the techs catty responses that I would be fine, I hurled, all over her brand new Nike's. They were cute. Not so much after that. However, the next tech, thankfully believed me when I told her that I couldn't drink all of that and not hurl again. So consequently, she let me drink half. Gertie, smiled for the camera.

So that's where I am today. Still have pain. Still have nausea. Still have some other weird, and rather gross side effects that I will spare you from. You can thank me now.

I have an appointment with a gastro November 20th. Yep, I typed that right. It's the earliest that I can get into see the doctor I wanted, or any doctor in my network for that matter. So I wait. And I hope that I don't hurl on a customer, a professor, or a boss. That can't help my grade or my job.

There are tons of things that it could be, and I would love to try a gluten free diet, and no dairy and to stand on my head when the moon is in the 4th house of the rising dog's, mother's, brother's, cousin's, friends house. But, alas, I have homework to do. I'd say I have laundry and cleaning, but I can only manage a few minutes before the pain takes my breath away and I have to take a break. So to say that my grades, my house, and my desk are a disaster, is an understatement. I don't think that a nuclear blast would cause as much destruction as this - whatever this is, has caused.

Thankfully, I have had a husband, who has stepped up to the plate. He's done laundry, cleaned, cooked, wrapped presents, and taken care of me. I'm quite appreciative for, because let's face it, there have been days where, I've googled "at home organ removal" out of desperation for some relief from the symptoms, that are making me crazy.

Which I find ironic. The doctor's think I'm crazy and everything is all in my head, yet, the actual symptoms are making me crazy.

As much as I'm glad that John is an amazing guy, and that he loves me enough to put up with my whiny, sick self for the amount of time that he has. He's given me pretty flowers, and brought me lunch, and gone out of his way to make this experience less...sucky.

I know the posts are sporadic while school is sucking up all my time, but I don't even want to just click publish on some that I have already written, because my heart's not in anything that I do these days. I'm in survival mode. I'm trying to keep my head above water with school, which is hard to do when you don't want to study because you feel so horrible, or you actually do study, but can't remember what you just spent the last 2 hours reading because you just want the pain to stop. I had made some commitments to events and other things this semester for Scentsy and other things, that I just don't care if I do or not. There are days where getting out of bed is an accomplishment. Then again there are days when it's just the pain, and I can manage to kick some butt and take some names, but when every.single. thing that you eat or drink makes you wonder what you were thinking about when you decided you had to eat or drink because you just want to curl up in a ball in a corner and not move so you don't hurl on someone, it gets hard. It takes a beating on your brain, on your heart, and after 1.5 months of the same stuff, your soul. Thankfully, I've had a better understanding of a friends journey with a cancer diagnosis this year, and I have a new level of respect for her after all of this.

I'm hanging on. Some days with a good, solid grip, and other days, well, I'm quite sure that my whining motivates those around me to chop on the branch I'm hanging on to. I'm not patient, and I want answers yesterday, so for those that follow me on twitter, and on this blog, I just want to say thanks for the love, prayers, jokes, and funny comments that you have sent my way. I'm quite sure that you are part of the group that's keeping me sane. Hopefully, this is an easy fix, whatever it is. I'm trying to find the blessing in this whole thing, but when your grades suck, and you feel bad, and you would rather lay in bed than go shopping for new clothes in smaller sizes, it's hard to find the blessing in anything. Although, I'll admit the weight loss is a nice fringe benefit, I can kiss that lovely number I had seen on my scale for 5.8 months goodbye, but I'd have rather kept the pounds and felt good, than this.

So, when I whine on Twitter, Facebook, or this blog, I'd like to ask you to do me a favor. Tell me to quite my whining and do some freaking homework. I might think your a jerk, but my GPA will thank you.

Deciding it's a Gift and not a Burden

Our pastor at church is in the midst of a unique series called "Servolution". It's about learning to, and giving us opportunities to serve others. Part of what started this whole thing is a lemonade stand that our church family will be running during the South Plains Fair.

This past weekend, Pastor B discussed how to find your spiritual gifts. My husband elbowed me several times during some of the options.

Yet, as I sat there, my mind wondered, about what my gifts were.

See, I always wanted to do something that made a difference. Apparently I should have been more specific, and I've definitely picked the wrong major if I wanted a career that made a difference. Although, I did pick my career based on something that I love to do, that I enjoy, which makes me excited to sit through millions of hours of classes each semester. Can crazy be a gift?

So as Pastor B talked, I wondered what I'm good at.

I'm a nurturer by nature. I like to do things for other people. My friend Andrea that was diagnosed with cancer this year can agree to that. I've shared the wealth more often than not, that she probably gets tired of the text messages involving care packages for dinner, breakfast, and dessert. Although, I totally love sharing. It's nice to make a cake, and have someone enjoy the other half of it, instead of the creatures that roam the dumpster in the dead of night. I'd rather not think about those creatures, because they have beady little eyes, full of evil, and long twitchy tails, and they are just roaming the streets looking for tasty morsels.

Fabulous, now I'm not going to want to let my dogs out when it's dark tonight. Fan-freaking-tastic.

I like to listen to people talk. Not necessarily joining in, but just listening and observing. You learn a lot about people that way. Another of my friends, wiggles her hands when she is discussing something she would rather not be talking about. She rubs on her fingernails, and constantly moves her fingers. My husband, avoids eye contact. He looks down when he would rather not have the conversation with you or even glancing away while talking to you. My mother-in-law likes to dictate the flow of conversation. She likes the subject to change when she has nothing else to say about it, not necessarily when the rest of the group is ready to move on. So it makes me observant, and when something interests me in the conversation, I add to it. Or manage to say something that pisses someone off, depends on who's around and how much sarcasm I used. Super powers shouldn't get you in so much trouble, should they?

Back to Servolution. They were asking for volunteers, and frankly I miss church when we don't go. I never regret it. In fact, I have this amazing analogy that will probably have me skinned for making on my blog.

Church is like sex. Once I get there, I wonder why we don't go more often. Or why we don't have sex more often. Not while we are at church, but just in general. My husband goes to bed at 6pm. I have homework. You do the math. It's not easy to do either, but it's always worth it in the end.

 

Sorry John. Aunt D. My old youth minister's wife. Mom. Dad. Andrea.

 

 So volunteers. Well, they have this bible study at TTU on Thursday nights. So I thought, you know, maybe if I got to know some of the losers, underage hooligans, babies, youngins, fellow students, I might not feel like I'm all that much older than them. So because I had procrastinated, because let's face it, I'm not a people person. I don't like talking in front of crowds, or in front of small groups either. I don't like being put on the spot, even with people I know. So I hadn't emailed the guy in charge and told him that I would offer up my services. Just couldn't do it. So my husband drug me, by my hair, kicking and screaming to meet with the guy after church.

 

Here's how much I'm not a "people - person".

 

"Hi, I'm Abby Normal, and you don't know me, but I'm fantastic and you should."

 

Yep, totally said that. Still not sure why, but I was nervous, and I say goofy stuff. And that was just talking to him with no one but my husband as a witness. So I spewed out that I went back to school, blah blah blah, did he need help on Thursdays. All the while, praying he would say no. So apparently, the 30th, I'm serving pizza and bottles of water to college students, and trying not to vomit or say something goofy. It's going to be interesting to say the least. Will I regret doing it, probably not. But for the next 3 years, because that's probably how long it will take for me not to want to hurl before I walk in the door, I'll do it. Because, believe it or not, part of me would like to step out of my comfort zone.

 

The other part of me, well, she would like to find something that makes a difference. Not necessarily so that I can feel good about what I'm doing for someone else, but so that I can feel good about who I am again. Because somewhere along the way, I've lost that girl who wasn't afraid to take on the world. I've lost the girl who wanted her life to matter, not to someone else, but to myself. I'd like to find her, before I get older and have any regrets about what I could have done, if I'd only been less selfish, and less afraid of talking to strangers.

My mom should be so proud, apparently she nailed the "don't talk to strangers" lesson, since it still works on a 25, 29, 30, 32 year old.

Time Flies

One summer, I remember being particularly bored and actually ready for school to begin again (don't judge, I get excited about school supplies too) and was whining to whoever was within ear shot about how bored I was and how slowly time was moving.
My grandfather, whom I adored, informed me that a week to me was a year to him. As an 8ish year old, it wasn't really a profound statement, although I remember my mom standing nearby and being in complete disbelief, and amazingly so agreement. I thought they were both crazy. Now I know why. Well, I don't know why they were crazy, I'm not sure a psychologist could even answer that question, but I understand the disbelief.

*It's hard to believe I've been at TTU for almost 2 years. I'll finish my second year and 5th (thanks to summer school) semester in December.

*I'll be 33 in September.

*John and I will celebrate our 13th Anniversary in December.

*The puppy that John gave me for my birthday, just before our 2nd anniversary, will be 11 years old this year.

*My other furry baby will be 10.

*My grandfather has been gone for 8 years this October. He would be 90 on Halloween.

*My grandmother 6 in January. She would be 82 in October.

*They would have been married 64 years this year.

*My niece will turn 12 in August. I remember when she was just a toddler with little blonde ringlets.

*Her brother turned 9 last month. I remember when he was born.

* I remember my stepsister telling everyone else that she was pregnant, but avoided telling me because she knew how devastated I would be, because at the time John and I were pursuing infertility treatments to have our own child. I remember tears running down my checks when she finally called and told me that she was having a baby in just 3 short months. I sat in the floor of our bedroom and cried when we hung up.

*I remember the day that John and I agreed that we couldn't keep doing treatments. It was only yesterday, but actually it was 6 years ago.

*I've been at the same job, since we moved for 4 years last month.

*My 15 year high school reunion is next year.

*I remember when I had to by hair dye because my husband informed me that I had several gray hair patches. That was last week, his funeral will be soon...I just have to find him first.

It's funny how the older we get our perceptions and our perspectives change. I have an amazing friend (who I'm quite sure we are sisters and were separated at birth, because she is the only other person I have found who doesn't like the milk after cereal has contaminated it, along with a variety of other freaky similarities) who is currently fighting cancer. Her oldest child, who is absolutely adorable and brilliant (no, I'm not biased), was born 2 months early. Her perception of time is probably vastly different than mine. Although I'm sure that there are moments that time passes us both by faster and slower than we would like it too, yet, we both grasp that it's moving way to quickly when it comes to the grand scheme of things.

There are plans and choices that we are making in our life right now that have a expiration date on them. Once we begin in order to reach our desired end result, we have to commit to spending 2 years on the process. Right now that seems like a dreadful length of time to wait, especially for something as special as the end result would be to both of us. Yet, there are other things going on in my life that I want to give a chance too as well (I would elaborate more, but we are avoiding all parents, family, friends, and people who actually know us, so that we can be completely happy with this choice and have no regrets later on down the road to elaborate now), so that a prior option that wasn't an option might actually be an option.

And if you understood any of that you deserve some sort of medal. Because I wrote it, I knew what I was talking about and I don't understand any of it. You're Welcome.

My point (which was lost about 3 paragraphs ago), was how time keeps ticking away whether we want it to or not. And my grandfather, he was right. When your waiting for something big, 2 years will seem like a lifetime, yet when your just trucking along trying to finish college, 2 years will seem like yesterday.

So the question remains, what will you regret in a year that you didn't start doing today?

Sometimes Different is Just Different

I'm 7 days into my no school vacation. 12 more days until Summer school begins. It's not nearly enough of a break. But, I refuse to spend the next 12 days whining, at least here about school. Well, I'll try not to whine much.

I had big plans this semester. I wanted to be able to have a life and go to school and work. I swear I keep finding out more ways that this whole process doesn't work than it does. I can't seem to find a groove where I don't feel like I'm giving something up or missing out on something, yet as time continues to march forward, I honestly don't can't remember what I'm fighting for or towards.

This year has been full of suck. If I thought last year was bad, this year makes last year look like a year long vacation at the beach. Perfect weather, no sunburns, my body clad in a bikini and no one puking. Perfect. This year...words cannot even begin to describe the level of suck.

Yet, I can't seem to make myself wish for something different. I can't seem to see myself anywhere else, other than where I am. I can't believe that I would give up the Saturday cookie runs with my sweet friend, who this year was diagnosed with cancer. I can't imagine giving up my Friday nights cooking goodies to share with her and her sweet family. I can't imagine a world where my in-laws were totally awesome. Yet, I've got to the point that I actually prefer their indifference. No more guilt about spending time with my family, and less rubbing in how perfect everyone else is to John and I. My grades aren't what I would like for them to be, yet, I can't imagine giving up more than I feel like I already have to make them completely awesome. Although, I'm quite sure if I would cut the cord to Facebook, I would be fine. It's a great time waster for college students who want to avoid homework. I stalk people I don't even know, and probably wouldn't even like in real life so I can avoid homework. Yet, I can't imagine giving up school, even though most days it feels like it will be a lifetime before I graduate.

So, yeah, I would like things to be different. I would like John's cousin's wife to have not ended her own life. I would like my friend to be well so we could enjoy our hot sauce dates and movie nights. I would like to be finished with school. I'd like my grandfather to be able to sit at my college graduation and watch me get my diploma. Yet, all of the things I would like different, I would miss out on the thought provoking conversations that I've had on a random cookie run. Conversations that, even though she doesn't realize the impact they have had, has caused us to completely change our plans for the future. They have caused us to have conversations and rethink things that we were unsure of before.

If this year has taught me anything it's that sometimes different is just different. It's not any better or any worse than the what's happening in my little world right now, it's just different. So, I guess the saying about if all of the worlds problems were in a pile and you could see what all was going on in other people's lives, you would gladly take your own problems back. Besides, sometimes those problems end up being a blessing, and who can complain about that?

I Just Hope

Read this first. Infertility: 3 things to ask God for

This was typed to the very, very wonderful friend in response to this link. I just couldn't not share it. Don't worry, I won't share her response.

I love you so very, very much. So I'll forgive you for making me cry. : )


I'd stopped thinking about having a baby. In fact I didn't cry the last facebook friend who announced their pregnancy. I was having one of those rare moments of joy at our life.
Then stupid concert Saturday. It's all their fault. One of their sponsors for the tour is World Vision. They are a group that allows you to sponsor a child in a 3rd world country. I ended up having to actually go to their website, because about halfway through the video I was thinking about how different my life would be if I had a child. I get to play full time college student and worker bee, and I couldn't do that with a baby. Then again, there are days that I think about the baby we lost. He would have turned 8 in February. The 12th to be exact. That was my due date. I asked Brad a few years ago, if he knew what that date was. He didn't. I was heart broken for weeks. Now, it just seems to sneak up on me. I was getting ready to go to bed this year when the thought hit me.
I never made it to my first doctor's appointment. I had a miscarriage the night before. That was the hardest phone call I think I've ever had to make.
We have talked about adoption. We have talked about doing a round of in-vitro. I don't know what to do. So I pray. I pray that I'll pay attention and not let fear, or the timing stop me from following through. I pray that I won't be so self absorbed that I'll do what God wants. I pray for hope. Hope that my marriage survives. Hope that my heart doesn't break. Hope that I don't say the wrong thing to a friend who is pregnant, or to a friend that whines about her morning sickness, or her swollen ankles, or the sleepless nights. I hope that I don't avoid them so much that I hurt them, because I can't get over it. I hope that I can avoid the baby dedication and mother's day services at church. Because it's just another reminder. I want to hate mother's day and father's day, because infertiles are forgotten. We still have to celebrate with our own mothers, grandmothers, sisters, friends. I didn't cry last year, for the first time in 8 years. I didn't go to church either, but I didn't cry.

You want to be hopeful, but at the same time you have to be realistic because month after month, after month of disappointment gets old. You want to fit in, because suddenly you feel like the kid who always got pick last in gym class. The kid that no one wanted to eat lunch with because they were a little different. Sunday school classes don't know what to do with you. Apparently neither do pastors.

The drugs made me crazy. Hot flashes, cramps, mood swings, tender breasts, and morning sickness. I was miserable, and the cruelty of all of the symptoms of pregnancy without the baby was just... cruel. Add that to the stress of planned sex, which sounds like every guys fantasy, but after following doctors orders, and you have to preform on certain dates, it becomes a chore. Then, watching your bank account vomit out money so fast that it makes your head spin. It's just so overwhelming and so..alienating.

Then add the jealousy. The why can that 400 pound lady have 15 kids that she can't afford and I can't have just one. Your jealous of pregnant women, of women with children, of women without children, simply because it's still their choice. It doesn't feel like it's been taken away from them yet. It's unfair, you cry, you rant, you apparently sit down on a pallet of dog food in the middle of Walmart and cry about the injustice of it all. Not that I've ever done that.

Then you realize at that moment, surrounded by dog food, that this isn't the answer either. Of course, you then realize that the dog food aisle has a distinct smell, and the you hope you can find somewhere inconspicuous to throw up. Not that I've done that either. : )

You lose yourself, and find yourself all at the same time. Which had nothing to do with how this started, but I got a little carried away. : ) Apparently there is the blog post I've been looking for.

Back to Saturday. I'm wondering. If I'm not being pushed in another direction. That little voice in my head keeps telling me that there are different ways to have a child. I don't know if that means that I should sponsor a child. I don't know if that means that I should call this friend that works at Bruckners as a social worker, who lucky for me, has faced infertility and won. She has a 4 year old, and 8 month old twin girls. She did treatments to get them all. She told me, whenever I was ready to call her and she would tell me what my options were. I don't know if I should call an adoption agency. I don't know. Lost is an understatement.

It's a call I'm not ready to make, just yet. Not because I can't see myself loving a child that isn't mine. Just because I don't want to give up on having my own just yet. I'm trying so hard to not hang on to that and miss an opportunity. I'm trying to let that baby go.

I'm also, probably much to Brad's great disgust, attempting to lose weight again. I've kickboxed, this week, which I haven't done in months. I'm trying to pay more attention to what I'm eating. I think that part of me hopes that the doctors might be right and my weight is an issue, and that the other part hopes not, because I don't want the reason that we couldn't have a baby was because I wouldn't starve myself to lose weight. I think he is afraid to find out the truth too.

When the whole situation gets me down, I pray for peace. I pray for contentment. So that I can stop the fighting between my head and my heart, and that I can be thankful and find contentment in the friends and family that let me spoil their children and crash their t-ball games and love their kids.

I also pray for understanding so I don't choke my mother when she tells me the latest cure all that she found on the internet. And I just pray I don't snap where my in-laws are concerned, because their issues are way to many to list in a single request.

I like guided prayer too. I also like answers. I'm not patient. However, once I stopped being so stubborn, the only thing I hear when I ask when is it going to be my turn is "Be patient. Not yet." I just hope I will be ready. I just hope I won't hold on so tightly that I miss my chance.

I just hope.

Wanted: Personal Assistant

Wanted: Personal Assistant

Job Duties: Approximately 4 loads of laundry per week; this includes gathering, washing, folding and putting away. Cleaning 1 bathroom. Cleaning of 1 smallish kitchen. Dusting. Vacuuming as well as mopping of said bathroom and kitchen. You must also have a job that currently pays you at least $200,000 per year that you contribute to our GDP. You must cook meals that I preapprove of. You must do all grocery shopping, using extreme couponing methods (gotta save money). If I don't feel like sitting through a class today, you should also be able to go in my absence. You should also always know all the material well enough to take exams and pass them with a minimum grade of a B. At night, when I've had a really hard day I would appreciate a massage and a hot bath. You should be flexible enough to be available to meet my every need, even if that need occurs at 2am and again at 4am.

Would like someone who doesn't mind watching Friends, CSI, Army Wives, and The Food Network. Must love dogs and be willing to housebreak any new additions to our family.

Cat and other rodent owners need not apply.

Please send your resume and references to my email. We have a smallish room that has a spare chair that will be your sleeping quarters (it also doubles as my office) but I will be courteous enough to try to not study while you sleep.

Thank you.

Finding Faith

Last Friday I posted the following post on Facebook: ""And I'll praise You in this storm and I will lift my hands, For You are who You are no matter where I am, And every tear I've cried You hold in Your hand, You never left my side and though my heart is torn, I will praise You in this storm." ~Casting Crowns. Send us a few extra prayers today, we have hit a bump in the road and could use some additional strength."

Then on Monday, well you can read about the tragedy that our family endured over the weekend.

Then yesterday, we got more news, that we could have lived without. John's grandmother, Granny, has a mass on her brain.

For about half a second I wanted to cry.

My husband's unemployed, my beautiful niece's heartache, and now Granny.

Yet, as I sat in the truck with my husband, this immense feeling of peace washed over me. It was as if I had taken a breath and blew all of that stuff out and everything was perfect again.

Then I wanted to laugh. Pure laughter, not sarcasm, not because it was the only thing going to keep me from having a meltdown in our driveway, but simply because the thought of that old saying that "God will never give you more than you can bear" popped into my head.

Apparently, I can handle all of this. It's no big deal. God has faith that I can handle this.

So that got the wheels turning and had me wondering, if His faith in me is great enough that I can handle, working full time, school full time, husband's unemployment, nieces situation, Granny, then shouldn't that faith in Him to get us through all of this be twice as large, if not larger?

Sure, I felt silly laughing and joking with my husband about "bringing it", not that I was asking God for more sorrow or heartache, but that I was just so impressed by God's faith in our strength, in my strength. So we laughed, and we both knew that no matter what, everything was still ok. If not even good.

We have a place to live, a car, we are both healthy, I'm still employed. We have so much, and there are some with so little, that it's not unreasonable to have these moments of joy in the midst of unhappiness and trials and life lessons, or whatever you want to call this.

Sure, I have moments where I panic, but they are moments. There are moments of worry, but it's not constant. Because every single time that those thoughts pop up, I have prayed. Some days there have been a lot, and other days, just a few. I've asked for my husband to find a job he loves, I've asked that my niece find peace, I've asked that Granny's mass be something simple and easy to fix. I've asked for the strength to wipe the worry out of my mind so that I can focus on homework.

I'm simply putting one foot in front of the other and hoping that we can learn something from this, that I can learn something from this. There is a blessing in here somewhere. I just have to find it.

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for the LORD your God will be with you wherever you go. Joshua 1:9

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11

Dear Robber

Dear Robber,

Several weeks ago you broke into my husband's office. You determined that he has personally wronged you in some way and that the most effective way for you to get your revenge was to break in to his office and steal equipment, parts, and just make a general mess. However, this time the jokes on you.

See, if you had really knew your former boss/co-worker you would know that none of that stuff in his office means anything to him. Sure he would be disappointed, but otherwise, it's just stuff. Stuff can be replaced. Everything that you damaged or stolen will eventually be replaced, so you actually did him a favor by allowing him for upgrades that he would have otherwise never gotten.

Your lay-off or termination wasn't personally his doing. He has a boss too, one that often gives him orders that he would rather not follow through with. There are days when he would love to let you continue to work, but sometimes the people who sign his paycheck say differently. So he does what he has to do so that he can provide for his family. Which isn't all that different from your actions, except that you committed a felony, and he just hurt your pride.

So, Mr. Robber, you might think that you accomplished something, but other than finding a very non-productive manner for your rage, you really didn't accomplish much. And now, his revenge will be when you are punished for the crime/s that you have committed. Sure, you might escape capture here on earth, but God has the final say. I'm sure He won't be pleased with your choice, but that's between you and him. See, Mr. Robber, my husband's already forgiven you. He's already moved on and began to rebuild his office. Please know that we will pray for you and those who will be hurt by your actions should you ever be caught, because just about everyone who comes through those doors has a family, and they would be devastated by your actions. I hope your mama is proud of your career choice.

Thank you for reminding us of what is important. Office supplies weren't it.

Sincerely,

The Normals'

Letting Go

After yesterdays long, drawn out, soul bearing post your probably afraid to read this one.

Fear not. I'm back to normal. Well, as normal as I can be. Which is probably not near any normal according to standard industry ratings.

Yesterday was just one of those days when I needed to whine. And when I needed a good butt chewing apparently.

You know that phrase, can't see the forest for the trees. Well, that was me yesterday. I saw the bad everywhere. I saw the worst in myself everywhere, and when you only see the bad, your attitude and everything else just plain sucks. Including your outlook on life in general.

My good friend, who I'm pretty sure is actually my sister and we were just separated at birth, sent me a message about my little post yesterday. She gave me a good butt chewing, and a big dose of perspective. So I guess the 2 tons of pressure that I was feeling yesterday, that I seem to have lost today, I can thank her for.

I have to learn to let go. I've had to learn how to let go of cooking dinner and doing laundry and cleaning, at least the majority of the time, simply because I can't do everything and go to school at the same time. I have to set priorities, I have to manage my time wisely if I want to have enough time to study and do everything else. So I had to learn how to let go of that stuff, and I had to learn to deal with the guilt that I feel when I watch my husband dust and vacuum so that I can study. I've had to learn how to handle that the best way that I can. Which, I'll admit I don't always do. I remember laying in bed one night last semester crying because of the guilt that I felt that I couldn't do everything. After some reassurance from my husband that no, in fact, he didn't resent me for making him chase dust bunnies and wreck spider homes, I felt much better.

My first semester left me feeling like I could conquer the world, and last semester left me wondering if I had lost my mind, and everything else along the way. Those grades hurt. They hurt to admit, and I felt like everyone was just telling me that they were ok, and that they were secretly thinking what a moron I was. When realistically, because all of my friends are old, they don't really care, as long as I pass, so that I can graduate and move back out of the college life and into the middle aged life.

I realize that all of the cliches of "Finding yourself" and all of that go along with college. You learn how to do laundry and be an adult without mommy and daddy looking over your shoulder and guarding your every move. Yet, since I've been there, done that, maybe college will be about me learning to let go. Maybe its not about me finding myself, but about finding out who I'm not and who I don't want to be for the rest of my life. Maybe it's about learning to let go.

I know that my feeling sorry for myself has affected my blogging ability. I actually have a bunch of posts that I wrote, and that were supposed to publish, but for whatever reason blogger saw fit to ignore my advance scheduling. Maybe because I needed that post yesterday more than I realized.

There are exciting things coming. I was approached by a digital scrapbooking company (more details next week) about hosting a giveaway (which will be coming up week after next). I'm looking for a couple other giveaways for the next year. Stick around, things just might get interesting.

A Beginning

When I started writing this post today, I promised myself that no matter how much I didn't want to, when I was done that I would actually print publish, instead of adding it to the rather large collection of drafts that I seem to have acquired in the last few weeks. This post is probably going to require that you pack a lunch, and make a day out of it. Just so you know.

Where do I begin?

That's a really good question. One that I don't have the answer to. I used to think I did, but now, well now I'm not so sure.

Today, well let's face it, assuming we are being honest here, for a long time I've been...well for lack of a better term; lost. And miserable.

Sure, (just so my husband and parents don't panic) there have been times where there has been contentment, happiness, pure, unadulterated joy, but those moments, they are so rare anymore that it's hard to see them at the moment, it's days later that I realize how perfect those moments were. About how at that particular moment everything clicked, everything fit. Everything was perfect.

Some days I hate that I have that Type A personality. That everything has to be perfect. I honestly wish I could be more go with the flow. That things like C's and burnt chicken didn't hurt me. Because realistically, who cries over C's. Most people are happy to pass and move on. I'm happy to pass, but those C's just made me feel like a failure. Like I was less, and add that to everything else, it's been down right hard to get enthusiastic about a whole new set of classes that start tomorrow. For the first time in my life, I'm not excited about school. In fact, I dread tomorrow with the same amount of passion as I do/did with having to go to funerals, memorial services of the people that I love.

I guess, since my posting has been sporadic, this post is going to be too. Sorry.

I'm so unhappy with so many areas of my life, that some days, it's all I can do to go to work and come home and fix dinner without bursting into tears a half a dozen times. And right now, I feel so powerless to do anything about it.

I've also discovered that there are things that are annoying me worse than I thought that they were. Like the issues with my inlaws. As much as I hate to admit it, even to myself, it bothers me more than I wanted to realize. I have slowly allowed it, along with other issues to eat away at my self-esteem and my self-worth. I realized that a few days ago. See, I'm the peacemaker, when everybody is pissed off at each other, it's usually me that jumps in and tries to smooth the ruffled feathers and get everyone back to being happy again. I can't do that this time. Simply because those involved see me as part of the problem...probably won't see me as the solution if I try to "fix" things like I always have. Plus it's hard knowing that the grandmother-in-law that loved you and cared for you, can also turn against you when it suits her purposes. This is one of those things that I can't fix, and letting go of that has been nearly impossible, but I realized that I'm going to have to let it go if I want to reclaim my life, and myself in the process.

I was sick the week before Christmas. Thanks to the stomach cramps that were purely the devil at work, and barfing up some of the foulest smelling stuff possible, a trip to the doctor was prompted, because I didn't want my gallbladder or any other internal organ to be planing it's untimely escape and me be oblivious. I felt so bad that I even called in sick to work. For the 2nd time in 3 years. (The first time being when I was in the hospital for the equivalent of dysentery.)

:sigh: I can't believe I'm about to put this out there on the internet for all the world to see. It's no surprise to the people who know me and read this blog, but to the rest of the world, it might be or then again maybe not. I'm overweight. Not just pleasantly plump, but if I were to be at the top of my healthy weight range, I would have lost a person. Like a 154ish pound person. It just hurts my heart to type that out. Anyway, back to the doctor. She ordered blood work to make sure that there weren't any other problems as well as checking insulin, glucose, and cholesterol. I'm pleased with the cholesterol numbers, some of the categories weren't were they should be, but it's a big improvement over where they were when she first did that blood work a few years ago. My good cholesterol was through the roof (once again, my theory that the low fat/preservatives stuff played an issue might actually have some truth here). However, my insulin was too high. 22 and it needs to be 20 or less. It's not a big concern, and it's not even considered pre-diabetic. But it was definitely a wake-up call. One that I didn't care to get. But apparently I needed a health scare to get my head wrapped around the fact that loosing weight was no longer my choice. It wasn't a should anymore, it was now a must.

sucky grades of last semester and WHAM! (Insert failure here).

School. Like I said previously, I dread tomorrow. I can't find a single shred of excitement. Just dread. Lots and lots of dread. See, even though no one else thinks so, I failed last semester. My first semester was hard, it was tons of work, there were tears, there were lots of days of constant work and where I was pretty sure I was going to drown. But I pulled it all out with A's and B's. Made the dean's list. Then my girlfriend tells me that it's not a big deal, she did it too. No body cared. Then last semester, oh my goodness. Last semester. I hated my classes, I hated my professors. I hated with a passion. So my grades suffered because I was unhappy. Hopefully I didn't make that mistake this semester too. I'm taking classes that I was excited about when I signed up for them. Sure, there's a few, like statistics that I'm not looking forward too. It's math, it's hard to get excited about math. But the accounting, marketing, science and history classes I was actually looking forward to them.

Yet right now, I can't get that giant F off of my forehead. No, not for Freak, but for Failure. Those 3 C's are just eating away at me. I don't get C's. Period. I've only gotten C's in math classes, and that was always okay. I got C's in regular classes too. Spanish, Economics, and Business Calculus. But those 3 C's make me want to curl up into a ball in a corner and cry and not come out for 20 or 30 years. It makes me want to think, "you can't do this" "you are such an idiot" "who are you kidding" "you won't ever finish" "your just going to be a failure". Some days I succeed in telling that little voice to jump off a cliff, and other days, well, other days that little voice wins. And it takes another chunk of my self worth with it.

So where does that leave me?

Exactly where I am. I have convinced myself that I can do nothing right. I can't write, so why even attempt to write blog posts. Why even participate in 5 Question Friday, when I can't write, when I'm not really funny. I am so sure that I have annoyed some good friends of ours, who in a few short months have became more like family than friends. I'm so sure that I will never be able to lose weight that I'm just destined to be fat forever. I'm so sure that I'm going to fail all my classes. And I'm so sure that when I do, all these people are going to line up and tell me "I told you so".

And no, this isn't a ploy for the few people who still pop in and read my blog from time to time to give me some props about how great I am. Because let's face it, the posts that I wrote a year ago were a whole lot better than the garbage I've attempted to do over the last year. Those posts meant something, the posts now, not so much.

This was and is about being honest, with myself and with the few people who still pop in and read from time to time. It's about trying to dig out of this hole I have dug myself into. It's about trying to find me again, and not just the shell of the person I used to be. It's about trying to make peace with my life and move forward and rebuild the life I want and not look back in 6 months and think that I should have tried harder, like I seem to find myself doing constantly for the last year. I say that a lot to myself. I should have. I would really like to change that into I am or better yet, I did.

To the family and friends that will read this: I promise, I'm okay. I'm not crazy, I'm not contemplating suicide or anything wonky like that. I talked to the doctor about it when I went to see her 3 weeks ago. She said that it's a lot of things, but she doesn't think it's depression or anything like that. Frankly I don't either. I just think that the last year has held so many changes, so many things that are out of my control that I'm trying to find myself and my footing and let's face it my self worth and confidence again.

I'm not sure where that leaves me. Other than in need of a good couch and a crazy doctor. Okay, probably not really, but still. You never know. I realize that I always put me on the back burner. I typically take care of everyone else, and leave me for last, but that's just me. I just didn't realize that I've been doing it for so long that I've let myself take a back seat that I now think of myself as being less important than they are. Don't get my wrong, I still intend to take care of the people in my life that need to be taken care of, but at the same time, I'm adding my name to that list too. I'm a priority too. And if I want to be treated like one, perhaps the first step is in making myself a priority too.

Life Goes On

This year has been full of suck. There has been death, dismemberment, and other all around general things that I would really prefer not to repeat.

Well, ok, there really hasn't been dismemberment, but those words just go together when you work in a sheetmetal shop.

It's been a year of moments, hours, days, and weeks that I wouldn't want to repeat. Yet, I have found myself wishing this year away in hopes that when the clock strikes midnight on December 30, that 2012 wouldn't hold the same amount of suck that 2011 has.

Then the Wednesday before Thanksgiving that all changed. Because let's be honest. No matter how bad things are in your own life, they can always get worse. Always.

A good friend of mine (who I'm pretty sure is my sister and we were just separated at birth) lost a childhood friend the day before Thanksgiving. Suddenly my year wasn't so bad after all. Yet at the same time her year hit rock bottom.

I look at the pictures of my childhood friend, whom I have known since Kindergarten and I wonder what I would do if something happened to her. I've known her 5 less years than I've been alive. 27 years we have been friends. 27 years. Suddenly someone my age dying made me feel very, very old.

I've spent over half of this year wishing it were over. Wishing that I could just hit the fast forward button and get to 2012 and it would be better. The last week, I have wished I could hit the pause button and savor some of these moments for the next 20 years and let 2012 show up later. Much, much later.

I've been so lost, and partially found and lost again since Papa died in July. Well, let's face it, probably when Grandpa died in April. There has been so much heartache, anger and hurt wrapped into this year that I would love to put it all behind me. However, just because I flip another page over in the calender, doesn't mean that things will be better. It will still be the exact same, except for the date I write on everything at work and school.

Whether or not I want next year to be better or not, has nothing to do with the year. It has everything to do with me and my attitude towards the problems that I face. I can choose to wallow in self pity and other emotions and suddenly I'll wake up and it's June and I'll think that this has been the worst 6 months of my life. When in reality, it was partly my choice to leave it that way.

This year has seen both heartache, joy, triumph, sadness, and laughter. Just like the last 32 have seen. 2012 could be better, it could be the same, or it could be infinitely worse. Some things are out of my control, but how I react to them, how I dwell on them, or move on, is entirely up to me.

Positive Thinking

A couple of weeks ago, I was misreable. My head felt like it was being squeezed in a vice, my sinuses felt like that were going to explode great big green goo, and my eyes, well, let's just say I know why chihuahua dogs eye balls stick out like that do. Blasted sinus pressure!

So I did what any rational adult does. I whined about it on facebook.

Because I'm lazy and I feel like I'm thisclose from death, I won't go back and find the exact quote, but here is the high points.

"Dear Sinus Infection, I'm really busy right now and can't handle any sickness. I'm free Oct. 8-11, Nov 23-27 and anytime after December 13th. Can we please work something out and reschedule? Thanks, your host."

I woke up the next morning feeling much better, which was great because I had a test a few days later and I didn't want it to be taken under the influence of sinus medication.

So my body didn't exactly get the details right, and waited until Sunday for the ickiness to start in. Asthma, runny nose, cough.

Oh great.

After a jog through the rain, and sitting in wet clothes for 2 hours, I figured I was kinda screwed, but still. How's that for coincidence. The weekend that I say I'm free to diseases, I'm actually sick.

So no more joking about rescheduling diseases and infections. Nope. Now, it's I won't ever be sick. I won't ever be sick. I won't ever be sick. Ok that's probably not realistic, so how about, I will be awesome tomorrow because I have class from 9am to 3:30pm. I will not be the sneezy, snotty, sore throat, cough infested person that I am today. I will be 100% better tomorrow.

How's that for positive thinking.

Send prayers too, just in case. And I'll take cold medicine too, because let's face it, I want to breathe today too.

What would you be?

Coming home from work a few nights ago, the question was posed on the radio about what would people say about you if they spent a week with you, following you around for every moment. How would their impression of you change, or would it?

It's a powerful concept. Is the way that you behave and act, simply an act or are you genuinely that person? You would be giving them a complete look into your life, flaws and all. So I have been thinking, what would the people I know see in me?

Before: Clean freak. Apologized for the mess. What mess? I wish my house looked this neat and clean.
After: Oh my goodness, when I wasn't looking she moved stuff back to exact locations that I had picked up and admired. It made me uncomfortable to sit on the couch for fear of messing up the cushions.

Before: Oh, we don't watch much TV.
After: Wrongo bucko. Once they come home from work and the puppies are let out, they turn the tv on. Granted sometimes they are on the internet or studying or doing other things, but the tv is always one.

Before: They tell me that my odd request is not a problem, and they gladly do what they can to accommodate me.
After: They went into their room and complained about my odd request and why I couldn't have warned them so that they were better prepared. Thankfully they didn't complain to my face.

Before: Abby took me up on my offer to help with dinner preparations.
After: She is so OCD that I felt like my chopping of onions wasn't sufficient. She was constantly looking over my shoulder and giving tips. Or assigning a job and then taking it away. Because, after all, I'm a guest, I shouldn't have to slave.

Before: She is so OCD, but she doesn't make her bed.
After: She is so OCD, yet she doesn't make her bed.

Before: She said that she hates to see me leave.
After: She says that she hates to see me leave and seems genuinely sad, but she is bothered that she feels guilty so that there are no "messes" to clean up after other people.

So that leaves me to question, how much of my actions and words are something I feel like I should say or do, but that I don't really personally believe in. It's like when someone runs into you or does something that causes you physical discomfort and apologizes and you reply "it's ok", when it clearly isn't ok.

I don't want to admit that I don't want help with dinner, simply because I'm crazy and I like to be in control, but in reality, that's the truth. Instead of being honest, I give out tasks and then hover. Why? Because I don't want to hurt feelings, when the truth is really what I would rather say, and it wouldn't hurt feelings either, just make them think I'm crazy. I would love to say that I'm happy having people stay with me, but at the same time it stresses me out, because I don't like the mess. I love getting the one on one time, but in the back of my mind I'm thinking about the cleaning I need to do and the horrible habits that they are learning that I have.

Is it hard to admit that stuff? Absolutely. But at the same time, which is the real me? Why am I so afraid to let real Abby shine through? What do I have to lose?

So the question remains, what do your friends and family see, the person you want to be, or the person that you are?

Apparently one of my birthday resolutions will be to work on being the person I am, not someone that worries about always pleasing those around me.

Committed

As a college student, it's important to have goals. Most instructors at the first of the year want you to tell them what kind of grade you will likely get in the class and then, if living in a world that you ruled, what you would actually get.  Obviously in the world that you ruled, you would get everything your little heart desired. Without all the blood, sweat, and tears.

Let's face it, the real world if vastly different. I might want that A in Spanish, but without putting in lots (and lots, and lots, and lots, and..) the odds of that happening are zilch. Goals are important. They give you a finished result to work towards, but on the other hand they can be all consuming or even non motivating.

I'm overweight. Hello, my name is Abby, and I'm chunky.

This is where you say Hi Abby, then hand me chocolate.

I spend approximately 25 minutes of my day riding on the bus. Most days, I spend that time thinking about work, school, my husband, my lack of social life, or trying to talk myself into talking to strangers today. Apparently that's a lesson that I learned a little too well as a child. Yet today I thought about what good grades I got last semester. About how, even when I didn't feel like it, I stayed up and I did homework, and I studied, and I got a tutor, and about the A's and B's I finished the semester with. I took a Pass or else attitude. I had to pass my classes. I have to maintain a high GPA to keep from getting kicked out of the program. I don't have a choice. I have too. If I want that job I keep dreaming about, I have to do it. Whether I feel like it or not.

I wonder, where I would be if I could learn how to put that same effort into weight loss. Where would you be? Could you be working on your own college degree? Could you be 30 pounds lighter? Could you have the job you wanted? If you just showed the same amount of time and commitment to yourself and your own body that you gave everything else, what could you have accomplished?

I could be 30 pounds thinner. I could be more than that. But instead, I'm still sitting here. Waiting on myself to commit to me.

Sounds goofy when you think of it that way, doesn't it? And yeah, it does. But, if I'm not happy, then that job, that college experience, that _______, doesn't matter.

Maybe, this year, my 32nd year, will be the year that I can learn to commit some time to me for me. Maybe, you can find the time to commit to yourself too.

"So, self, I've been thinking. We've been together a long time, and I really can't imagine my life without you. Without you, I'm just a body, an empty shell of a person without you by my side."

(Presents beautiful, sparkly, shiny ring in a Tiffany blue box)

"Will you marry me?"

Yes!

Now, maybe just a little tweak to my calendar here, and a pinch there and I can schedule in some time to sweat. Other than sex.

Learning

As I was riding the bus to get to my first class, I had a sudden realization. Today, I have a better understanding of what Papa meant when he kept telling me that a college degree doesn't make you smarter. Its life that does that.

I don't like new situations. I don't like being thrown into a room full of people I don't know. I really don't like it when the two guys sitting behind me are talking about which high schools they just graduated from and I realize how different I am from them.

They haven't struggled with infertility, they haven't had to worry about losing their job and putting food on the table to feed their family. Those are life experiences that the will eventually have, unfortunately. Those experiences will change them, they will teach them, they will make them stronger.

Yet today these "kids" have taught me a valuable lesson. They don't care. The only person in the room bothered by my age is me. They are too busy in their own lives and living off their own experiences that they don't care that they were 6 when I graduated high school. They don't care. I'm what they want to be when they graduate. They want to get married and have a family and a job that they love.

I didn't realize, until today, that college teaches you more than just the things found in books. It teaches you that sometimes, no matter how much you don't want too, that you have to do things alone. It teaches you that sometimes you have to stand on your own two feet and that you have to be the oldest or youngest in the room. You have to learn how to stand alone before you can ever truly begin to support someone else.

I realize that for some people, they have had to stand on their on for a while. Every one's life is different, their experiences different. What they take away from each experience and each situation is different, yet similar at the same time.

Even though I've been in the real world for a while now, I know that no matter what, there are still things that I'm going to have to face alone. I also know that I have to learn that I worry more about what other people think about me, than what they actually do. I have got to learn to be comfortable in my own skin. They don't care that I'm 31, they just want to pass the class and graduate. That I can relate too.

My Days are Numbered

One week. That's all the time I have left. I'm not sure if I should be thrilled or disappointed. In one week, less stressed, more relaxed, more free time me disappears until December as I go...BACK TO SCHOOL!!!!

Part of me is thrilled, part of me is dreading it. Because let's face it, I could live with learning the stuff, but less homework. Less stress. More of a life. So much of last semester was a blur that I honestly don't remember it. And I'm afraid that much of this semester will be the same. There are classes I'm looking forward to and classes I dread.

I'm looking forward to taking one more step towards a degree and the life that I want. Yes, I realize that my plans may not coincide with the plans that God has lined out for me, but I still feel like I'm where I should be, doing what I need to be doing. I still feel like I'm doing the right thing.

It's hard to believe that it has snuck up on me like this. I have started having the butterflies again. I felt so lost the first few days of classes because I felt like I was so old and out of my league. But now, well, now there are familiar faces in the crowd. Now there are familiar hallways and offices and rooms that helped me gain confidence in myself. And if worse comes to worse there is that GPA that makes me proud of my first semester of college, of school in 13 years. I can do it. I will do it. I can do anything I make up my mind too, as long as I want it bad enough.

Sure, there are things that aren't done, like unpacking, cleaning up the garage, a stocked freezer of food so my husband doesn't have to worry about dinner. My Scentsy Party details lined up and ironed out, and Christmas shopping. I still have a week, so there is hope for some of that. But not all of that, I don't want to be all stressed out about all that other stuff before I start school. So, we are taking a what happens, happens mentality and what doesn't, will be worried about over my Christmas break. This may be the year of the gift cards.

So ready or not, Texas Tech, here I come.

Young VS. Old

I have always heard about generational gaps and I have seen them repeatedly. Yet here lately, it seems like I am noticing it more. I don't know if it is because I am learning so much at Tech that doesn't have to do with my degree or I'm just paying more attention.

Recently the city required that the company that I work for get a Storm Water Permit. My boss complained that it was the government holding its hand out and looking to extract more money from small businesses. I saw it as trying to get businesses to think more about their environmental impact. Is it a pain? Yes. Is it good business practice to be "green"? Yes. Does my 72 year old boss see it that way? No. Our perspectives are very different. Yes, the need for the permit came at a bad time for the business, we are trying to recover from slow times and it's hard. We often barely make payroll, simply because we are trying to stretch every dollar that we have. So yes, I understand his desire to not spend the money.

After taking the Environmental Science class last semester I learned a lot of information. It was educational and it made me think about recycling and going green in a whole new level. In fact, if my husband wouldn't look at me like I was crazy, there would be a ton of changes in our own home. That class was eye opening. My boss, being of a different generation sees things differently. He hasn't taken the class, and once again, he would argue that it was all propaganda from the government so that THEY could have more than he does.

Yet, talk to a 15 year old, and this is something that they have heard in school for a while now. They are used to the recycling bins at school. They see it as protecting the environment and those cute little animals, not that the big, bad government is trying to steal money from them.

Makes me wonder, if everyone would stop trying to be the "right" one, how much could we learn if we stuck 30 year olds in the same room with 70 year olds? The older group has seen more, and had more life experiences to help with not repeating mistakes, the 30 year olds have the ambition and the drive to push through and see changes happen. In a perfect world, it's the perfect solution. In reality, it will never happen.

My boss has the mentality that everything will always be around, that global warming isn't real and that it would take a huge disaster, like a meteor to screw things up. He doesn't realize that permit, and the fee spent could save someones job. It could save a lake. It could help find an alternative to cleaning water for drinking. Is it an age thing? Or is it an education thing? Is it something that he could overcome, or is he too stubborn to change his way of thinking at this point? Are you?