So, that was pretty dark. I feel like I need to update. I am operating at normal capacity today. Yesterday, I felt much better after venting. This blog thing can be very cathartic when you need it to be. I did finish those "to-do's" and I think the sense of accomplishment helped some. I have gotten a lot done today and am right on track for Christmas. On the list for today:
Ironing
Bean Soup
Baking
Grocery shop
Floors
Not too much. Should be able to finish it. I've already started the bean soup.
Christmas is going to be fun. I have high hopes for Christmas morning and I can't imagine not enjoying every minute of it. Thanks to those of you who showed concern yesterday - don't worry, there isn't a doctor in his right mind who would prescribe me anti-depressants. I'm just being very open here and I'm finding that openness can be very spirit-lifting. I'm going to get up a bit early tomorrow morning and sit by my tree with coffee in hand, pondering the reason for this season. Beginning the day with reflection and thanksgiving is the most basic way to start Christmas. I encourage anyone who is having a difficult time this year to focus on the real reason we celebrate and to invite that joyous feeling at the birth of salvation and hope into your hearts. My hope is that we all have a very merry Christmas!
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
2 Days Until Lift-Off
After my last post, I felt much relieved. So, I'm hoping this post will have the same effect. That next day - Friday and Saturday in fact - things seemed strangely normal. Then, the bottom dropped out. In fact, after two nights of stress and rehashing all of the circumstances surrounding my father's death, I reached the end of my rope. Actually, to borrow a runner's term, I hit the wall...hard. Yesterday it was actually difficult to get out of bed. Today, I got out of bed but had to lay down again after lunch when I started having a panic attack. I know that I sound like a complete crazy person as I type this. Maybe I am. I have never felt this emotionally messed up in my whole life.
What triggered the panic attack? Several small things sent my heart racing and before I knew it, I was in fight or flight mode. One bill that is due, one phone call unanswered, and a list of things to do that is 3 miles long and 5 miles wide. Apparently that is enough to send me back to bed today. So, have I become that person who everyone walks on egg-shells around because I might cry or stop functioning for 3 days? Guess so. I actually contemplated medication yesterday. My only hesitation is the fact that I would have to curtail New Year's Eve champagne if I went on anti-depressants and by God I've earned the right to kick 2009's ass with a toast to the next year. So, I just have to get through the next 2-3 days and I'll be fine, right?
The truly ironic thing about this anxiety I'm having is that I have actually gotten a lot done today. I went through all of Ford's clothes and cleaned out from under his bed. I also cleaned my stove and cleaned out the refrigerator. I started my meal planning for Thursday and started dusting. Why do I feel so crappy then? Why do I feel like the laziest slob on the planet? What do I have left today? I am going to finish the laundry and write an 11 minute script for Lincoln. If I can manage that, plus make dinner, I will have basically finished my list. Why then all the anxiety? It must me unrelated to the "doings" of Christmas. There's an invisible source of stress and worry that I can't put my finger on.
I'm going to try and untangle it. Okay, at Christmas, I always feel like a kid again. In fact, I remind myself to be a kid again with pictures from Christmas past on the mantle, toys under the tree, and a host of crafting activities and lights to see. Maybe I am struggling with this because at the time of year when I most want to be a kid again, I have lost my dad. I feel grown up in the worst of ways. Well, if that's it, there's no fixing it. I just have to plow ahead. So, back to my list. Back to the planning, the cleaning, the cooking and the "merriment". Perhaps Christmas itself will be enough of a distraction to bring the joy back into it - no pun intended. I probably won't post again until I need to vent. So, if you've read this whole thing, bless you. I promise that soon I will have a funny story or uplifting observation. Right now, I'm just counting down to Christmas like everybody else.
What triggered the panic attack? Several small things sent my heart racing and before I knew it, I was in fight or flight mode. One bill that is due, one phone call unanswered, and a list of things to do that is 3 miles long and 5 miles wide. Apparently that is enough to send me back to bed today. So, have I become that person who everyone walks on egg-shells around because I might cry or stop functioning for 3 days? Guess so. I actually contemplated medication yesterday. My only hesitation is the fact that I would have to curtail New Year's Eve champagne if I went on anti-depressants and by God I've earned the right to kick 2009's ass with a toast to the next year. So, I just have to get through the next 2-3 days and I'll be fine, right?
The truly ironic thing about this anxiety I'm having is that I have actually gotten a lot done today. I went through all of Ford's clothes and cleaned out from under his bed. I also cleaned my stove and cleaned out the refrigerator. I started my meal planning for Thursday and started dusting. Why do I feel so crappy then? Why do I feel like the laziest slob on the planet? What do I have left today? I am going to finish the laundry and write an 11 minute script for Lincoln. If I can manage that, plus make dinner, I will have basically finished my list. Why then all the anxiety? It must me unrelated to the "doings" of Christmas. There's an invisible source of stress and worry that I can't put my finger on.
I'm going to try and untangle it. Okay, at Christmas, I always feel like a kid again. In fact, I remind myself to be a kid again with pictures from Christmas past on the mantle, toys under the tree, and a host of crafting activities and lights to see. Maybe I am struggling with this because at the time of year when I most want to be a kid again, I have lost my dad. I feel grown up in the worst of ways. Well, if that's it, there's no fixing it. I just have to plow ahead. So, back to my list. Back to the planning, the cleaning, the cooking and the "merriment". Perhaps Christmas itself will be enough of a distraction to bring the joy back into it - no pun intended. I probably won't post again until I need to vent. So, if you've read this whole thing, bless you. I promise that soon I will have a funny story or uplifting observation. Right now, I'm just counting down to Christmas like everybody else.
Thursday, December 17, 2009
The 100th Post
It's my 100th post. I thought I might do something special for you but after spending a week or so pondering that, nothing came to mind. Then, spontaneously, I wanted to post tonight.
So I'm standing by my tree, alone, waiting for it to magically make me feel better. This Christmas has been pretty lackluster so far. Let me give you some examples: I always cry when I watch Polar Express, but this year, I cried 5 times and I was only halfway through the movie! I finally gave up and started cleaning the floors (my classic stress response - cleaning). More examples...just the thought of decorating my tree made me sad. The tree sat outside on my porch for 3 days before we finally dragged it inside. After allowing my kids to decorate the whole thing (or the bottom third of it at least) I was content to allow Baxter to snip off the tip so the angel could fit up there - and while hugging my milk punch and sulking, finally exploded in laughter when the tip of the tree plopped right into my drink. I think it was the only time I smiled all night.
Tonight, like every night, I'm just blue - totally lifeless. I am not myself. I feel like I'm trapped in another dimension. So I am standing by my tree tonight, thankful for its sacrifice, enjoying its fragrance, and hoping that one of the ornaments will gleam in some certain way and catch my eye...and nothing happens. Nothing happens until I stare at a frosty blue ball - one of about a dozen like it on the tree - that just happens to be at my eye level. I stare at it in a sympathetic sort of way. That's how I feel - frosty blue. That's the ornament I identify with this year. Not the tipsy elf in the martini glass - not the saxophone wielding Santa Clause - not the homemade signed and dated ornaments from my children - not the Rubanesque angel painted orbs - the blue glass ball from Target. And suddenly, it occurs to me...my dad wouldn't want this for me. He named me Joy, after all. If he is watching from heaven, his heart would be heavy. He would not want me to be this other, sad person from planet blah. He would want me to be who I am, a woman who loves Christmas, who loves the get-togethers and merriment, who loves the lights and tinsel and carols. The song "Breath of Heaven" shouldn't make me feel like pushing myself off on an ice-flow. I need a Christmas miracle tonight. May my heart grow three sizes! I want to go buy the biggest Christmas Goose in all of Smyrna! For the last week of Christmas, I want to feel like myself again. I want to wake up tomorrow and feel a rush of Christmas spirit like never before. I am praying tonight for that miracle. May God give me myself back. That's all I really want for Christmas this year. What do you really want?
So I'm standing by my tree, alone, waiting for it to magically make me feel better. This Christmas has been pretty lackluster so far. Let me give you some examples: I always cry when I watch Polar Express, but this year, I cried 5 times and I was only halfway through the movie! I finally gave up and started cleaning the floors (my classic stress response - cleaning). More examples...just the thought of decorating my tree made me sad. The tree sat outside on my porch for 3 days before we finally dragged it inside. After allowing my kids to decorate the whole thing (or the bottom third of it at least) I was content to allow Baxter to snip off the tip so the angel could fit up there - and while hugging my milk punch and sulking, finally exploded in laughter when the tip of the tree plopped right into my drink. I think it was the only time I smiled all night.
Tonight, like every night, I'm just blue - totally lifeless. I am not myself. I feel like I'm trapped in another dimension. So I am standing by my tree tonight, thankful for its sacrifice, enjoying its fragrance, and hoping that one of the ornaments will gleam in some certain way and catch my eye...and nothing happens. Nothing happens until I stare at a frosty blue ball - one of about a dozen like it on the tree - that just happens to be at my eye level. I stare at it in a sympathetic sort of way. That's how I feel - frosty blue. That's the ornament I identify with this year. Not the tipsy elf in the martini glass - not the saxophone wielding Santa Clause - not the homemade signed and dated ornaments from my children - not the Rubanesque angel painted orbs - the blue glass ball from Target. And suddenly, it occurs to me...my dad wouldn't want this for me. He named me Joy, after all. If he is watching from heaven, his heart would be heavy. He would not want me to be this other, sad person from planet blah. He would want me to be who I am, a woman who loves Christmas, who loves the get-togethers and merriment, who loves the lights and tinsel and carols. The song "Breath of Heaven" shouldn't make me feel like pushing myself off on an ice-flow. I need a Christmas miracle tonight. May my heart grow three sizes! I want to go buy the biggest Christmas Goose in all of Smyrna! For the last week of Christmas, I want to feel like myself again. I want to wake up tomorrow and feel a rush of Christmas spirit like never before. I am praying tonight for that miracle. May God give me myself back. That's all I really want for Christmas this year. What do you really want?
Friday, November 20, 2009
So Thankful
It's really not a cliche. I really do have so much to be thankful for. I am thankful for a husband who is still growing. I would hate to feel like I was chained down to someone who never changed, never opened his heart, his mind, or tried anything new. I love that my husband can evolve to meet life's demands and come out on the other side better for the struggle.
I'm thankful that my children are healthy and that each night, my greatest fear is that they will have a bad dream. They have never missed a meal, a hug, or a step along the way. Not only are they thriving, but God gave them each such beauty and talents that I have every confidence that they can truly reach for the stars.
This year, I am thankful to have a roof over my head and a husband with a good job.
I am thankful for a family that has given me everything they could in every circumstance. My parents modeled sacrifice and unconditional love. They taught me where to keep my priorities and where true happiness comes from.
I am thankful that I have a real heavenly Father. I am thankful that even when I felt far away, He was always near and that before I could forgive myself, He had already forgiven me.
I am thankful for seeds planted that have slumbered under the earth, and for the steady rain and rich soil that allowed them to sprout up into the sunshine. I am thankful for promises, hope and future blessings, whatever they may be.
I'm thankful that my children are healthy and that each night, my greatest fear is that they will have a bad dream. They have never missed a meal, a hug, or a step along the way. Not only are they thriving, but God gave them each such beauty and talents that I have every confidence that they can truly reach for the stars.
This year, I am thankful to have a roof over my head and a husband with a good job.
I am thankful for a family that has given me everything they could in every circumstance. My parents modeled sacrifice and unconditional love. They taught me where to keep my priorities and where true happiness comes from.
I am thankful that I have a real heavenly Father. I am thankful that even when I felt far away, He was always near and that before I could forgive myself, He had already forgiven me.
I am thankful for seeds planted that have slumbered under the earth, and for the steady rain and rich soil that allowed them to sprout up into the sunshine. I am thankful for promises, hope and future blessings, whatever they may be.
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Ramble On...
So, today was the busiest day I've probably ever had and it all stressed me out. We started early this morning, getting ready for soccer. Ford's end-of-season-party was donuts and cocoa before his last game - laid back and wonderful. His team won. No, we're not supposed to keep score, but with Alajandro on the team, it's fun to keep score.
Lunch at Decoeur de France. There are no words to describe how perfectly delicious everything was. Baxter: smoked salmon eggs benedict. Kids: Croque Monseiurs. Me: goat cheese and green onion omelet with croissant and homemade preserves. Plus, 2 orders of the most amazing hash browns you'll ever taste, one crepe with strawberries and one crepe with nutella to split. Oh, and we also took home chocolate eclairs that we ate in the car because we're total pigs!
Costume change #2, then Abby's last soccer game. They also won - yay! I love our soccer teams. The parents are all awesome and the kids are all really genuine, silly, fun kids. Too bad my kids don't like to play soccer!! I am not pushing them. I don't do that. But at what point do you say, "you know, I don't want to pay for this anymore if you're not going to run..."
Stevi B's is a crappy, crappy place. I'll never go there again. It's like Cici's Pizza, but worse. We paid for tokens for the "arcade" and most of the games took quarters. The cheese could not have been real. I wonder what it was made of.
Not all trophies are created equal. Abby's looks like a lesbian. Why can't they find a cute girl to put on top of the girls trophies instead of a man with boobs? Abby doesn't have boobs. And she doesn't look like a man. Next time, I'm going to suggest one with a soccer ball on top.
Costume change #3 & Abby went to her first sleepover. It's 11:30 and she hasn't called me, so I guess she's okay. Wow. That feels like a milestone.
I love that we can walk over to our neighbors' house and hang out. Fun night. Words of wisdom part 2: I can sing karaoke but I can't sing just any song. I need to work on my song selection. I need to channel my inner Simon Cowell.
My house is a wreck. I agree with Jen. I don't like to do chores. The only thing I like doing is purging. I could totally be that Clean House lady.
I love google. I'm good at it. It's all in the wrist. Right now, in my search box are the words (from earlier) "red spot in eye white." I love that I can instantly find out that Ford doesn't need to go to the doctor. If it weren't for google, they'd have banned me from the office long ago.
I'm a terrible dancer, although I sometimes do it anyway. I would love to take ballroom with Baxter if only he would. Debbie Gibson's "Out of the Blue" was one of my favorites and I can still sing all the words to most of it. I used to dance to it too. I had a beret that I liked wearing. I remember tearing holes in my jeans and drawing a face on my knee just like the album cover. I'm pretty sure I also pulled my shirt off my shoulder for this particular look. She's probably the reason I always wanted tousled/curly hair.
Older men are sexy. I love that Baxter has a few years on me. I love it that his hair is a little "salty" here and there but that he still looks really young for his age. It's like knowing a secret all the time.
I almost named Abby "Alice" and I kind of wish I had from time to time, although Abigail is nice. If I had another boy, I would name him James after my dad. If I had another girl, I might also name her Jaymes.
On Thursday, the kids and I painted pictures on canvas outside. We were trying to be Impressionists. It was fun. I'm like Matisse in his use of bold colors and distinct lines. I like my painting and secretly think I could probably have been an artist. Maybe I'll be like Grandma Moses.
I'm very busy and life is very good. I have moments, like while we were painting, when I feel like I'm just basking in the sun. But most of the time, I'm a little blue. I am wearing black and I feel like wearing black. I feel dark and somber despite the goodness around me. Is it too early to be longing for spring?
Lunch at Decoeur de France. There are no words to describe how perfectly delicious everything was. Baxter: smoked salmon eggs benedict. Kids: Croque Monseiurs. Me: goat cheese and green onion omelet with croissant and homemade preserves. Plus, 2 orders of the most amazing hash browns you'll ever taste, one crepe with strawberries and one crepe with nutella to split. Oh, and we also took home chocolate eclairs that we ate in the car because we're total pigs!
Costume change #2, then Abby's last soccer game. They also won - yay! I love our soccer teams. The parents are all awesome and the kids are all really genuine, silly, fun kids. Too bad my kids don't like to play soccer!! I am not pushing them. I don't do that. But at what point do you say, "you know, I don't want to pay for this anymore if you're not going to run..."
Stevi B's is a crappy, crappy place. I'll never go there again. It's like Cici's Pizza, but worse. We paid for tokens for the "arcade" and most of the games took quarters. The cheese could not have been real. I wonder what it was made of.
Not all trophies are created equal. Abby's looks like a lesbian. Why can't they find a cute girl to put on top of the girls trophies instead of a man with boobs? Abby doesn't have boobs. And she doesn't look like a man. Next time, I'm going to suggest one with a soccer ball on top.
Costume change #3 & Abby went to her first sleepover. It's 11:30 and she hasn't called me, so I guess she's okay. Wow. That feels like a milestone.
I love that we can walk over to our neighbors' house and hang out. Fun night. Words of wisdom part 2: I can sing karaoke but I can't sing just any song. I need to work on my song selection. I need to channel my inner Simon Cowell.
My house is a wreck. I agree with Jen. I don't like to do chores. The only thing I like doing is purging. I could totally be that Clean House lady.
I love google. I'm good at it. It's all in the wrist. Right now, in my search box are the words (from earlier) "red spot in eye white." I love that I can instantly find out that Ford doesn't need to go to the doctor. If it weren't for google, they'd have banned me from the office long ago.
I'm a terrible dancer, although I sometimes do it anyway. I would love to take ballroom with Baxter if only he would. Debbie Gibson's "Out of the Blue" was one of my favorites and I can still sing all the words to most of it. I used to dance to it too. I had a beret that I liked wearing. I remember tearing holes in my jeans and drawing a face on my knee just like the album cover. I'm pretty sure I also pulled my shirt off my shoulder for this particular look. She's probably the reason I always wanted tousled/curly hair.
Older men are sexy. I love that Baxter has a few years on me. I love it that his hair is a little "salty" here and there but that he still looks really young for his age. It's like knowing a secret all the time.
I almost named Abby "Alice" and I kind of wish I had from time to time, although Abigail is nice. If I had another boy, I would name him James after my dad. If I had another girl, I might also name her Jaymes.
On Thursday, the kids and I painted pictures on canvas outside. We were trying to be Impressionists. It was fun. I'm like Matisse in his use of bold colors and distinct lines. I like my painting and secretly think I could probably have been an artist. Maybe I'll be like Grandma Moses.
I'm very busy and life is very good. I have moments, like while we were painting, when I feel like I'm just basking in the sun. But most of the time, I'm a little blue. I am wearing black and I feel like wearing black. I feel dark and somber despite the goodness around me. Is it too early to be longing for spring?
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