As soon as things get Better

Perfection isn't just for uptight 6th grade students in cardigans. (although I was one of them sitting right alongside my bestie.) When life-war rages all around you, Perfection becomes a living breathing planet that you are desperately trying to pack for, can't find your toothbrush for, can't figure out the weather for...

You just don't really have a concept for it, but you KNOW that once you get there, it's going to be much "Better" because you will have wiped all these crazy problems from your life and there's this hammock or a bed or a beach towel and you can lay there and it's just...ah...better.

And you talk about it with your family when you make plans. You speak about it like this non-existent place exists.

Yeah, I'll book those tickets as soon as things get better. I'll call her when things slow down and things get better.  We will be happier as soon as we can take a breath and just enjoy things, you know, when they are better?

So you know that there's no real punchline. There isn't a better.

I've been waiting on medication for I don't know how long now.. The insurance just won't approve it. So, I'm not feeling any better. We've been waiting on some other news and waiting and waiting, thinking, hoping and praying that this news should determine our direction. It should point us towards Better. But no answers.

This past Sunday was odd, not just because we were waiting desperately for HBO GOT, Silicon Valley and VEEP to come on. Before that, we spent some time outside as a family. It was really nice. Kiddo played in the grass and rubbed mud (hopefully not dog poop) all over his face. Randy looked peaceful - between full time work, full time school and his share of issues, looking peaceful is rare. But he had a moment. And the dog was making the kid laugh and the sun fell between the trees and I just watched above as the simple dance of those two trees transported me for a moment to Better. It was a quick visit, but it was nice - it was a very spiritual/star trek moment.  But like all good things, I got a text from Walgreens politely reminding me that I would NOT be receiving my medicine. Thanks

The good feeling didn't fade so quickly this time, I didn't let it. Randy had the day off today and even though nothing changed, we spent a lot of time talking on a walk. I'm so used to saying to him, "I just want you to be happy. I just want things to get better so life can start to get better."  But I stopped myself.

I said, "What if this is better? Are you happy? I mean we've been through an awful lot in the early years of marriage. We didn't lose our house, we keep finding our way back to each other. And we have the most amazingly hilarious 2 year old. He's happy and fun, and we love our family time."

Randy, like he always does, just said, "Yeah, well I try to be happy." He wasn't matching my intensity or this passion, this moment of awe.  I think he'd call this feeling "drama" "anxiety" "overthinking" but that's okay.  Back to my point...

My point is that things are going to get bad. They are also going to be awesome! It's important to grieve but it's so important not to miss that they can be going on at the same exact time. You could be missing your Better because you're focused on your worst.

It's not weak to wish for better things to happen or to want better lives with less issues and better health. I think it's just important to accept where you are and make the most of it.

I have a tendency to let life point me in a direction, lose sight that I have the choice not the other way around. Perfection does not have to be my destination I know that I can live in the moment. It's a daily struggle for me and easy to give in to self pity and let life lead me instead of the other way around. I wasn't always like this, especially when I was young. I meed to look back. You see it's that 6th grade girl in the cardigan I need to remember.  She's the one reading the choose your own adventure books! Too bad they didn't sink in!

It's as plain as the dinosaur on your floor...

Miss me?

It's been a really long time since I've written. Well, that's the first thing I'll admit to, it's been a really long time since I've shared anything I've written. Maybe that's because I felt I couldn't be honest, but if you care at all, and some of you said you've been reading, hey, here I am.

Do you ever feel like you're hiding from something that everyone else knows about? Like it's a big giant secret to you, but it's a really obvious fact to everyone else and it's no big deal and no one cares and it's just part of you and yada yada yada I could go on and on, and everyone has probably felt that way?

What is insecurity Alex?  Emotions all people feel for 500 please...

I never realized how much a home is a representation of the people who live there...okay duh again. Today I found myself heavy with fatigue again. (I'll update on my health, but I'm not feeling it today)

When I find myself fatigued lately, I decide that it's important to start working on serious projects until I completely exhaust myself, projects I would otherwise delay if I were feeling better and would take Brock to the park, the gym (because we both love it there) or somewhere with kid fun. Does anyone else do this? Push yourself at the worst times?  I'll even do more chores when I'm sick. Tough on myself?

What are things parents do Alex?  Ways parents are tough on themselves for 1000 please...

Ok, enough Jeopardy references, sorry, you love the Trebek and you know it. So, there have been two instances in the last week that made me realize I've been hiding from 2 very simple facts that have probably been obvious to everyone else for a long time.

Ok are you ready for the admission?  It could be shocking for you (probably not)...  And, I'm not going to explain myself, how I got to this point, or where it came from. I'm simply going to state it...Are you sure you're ready?

Deep breath...

Whooo...

Ok...

I AM...A...STAY AT HOME PARENT.  Oh my gosh, I just said it.

I take care of my child, and guess what.  I HAVE A CHILD THAT LIVES IN MY HOME, and...

Ok...

Here goes...

MY HOUSE HAS TOYS IN IT!!!!!!

I'm not sure if any of you knew this, I've sort of left you clues, pictures, some other blogs about taking care of him. And there's that small fact that I am not employed right now (shhh disabled). You've probably put the puzzle together. But do you know that this past week is the first time I've ever said it without an explanation? And I was PRAISED for it?  I've always felt ashamed that I got sick and couldn't work. I always thought I was free-loading and putting my skills to waste. And I ran into my 7th grade English teacher, she said "What are you up to?" it flew right out of my mouth without any explanation. She said, "How wonderful, your son is so lucky to have such a smart mom home with him, it must be why he is so smart."

Huh?

I mean it's okay for everyone else who has made that decision, but, you see, I didn't really "make this choice" - so I felt like I could never take any credit. But for some reason, I guess the timer went off and I let myself take the credit. And you know, when she said this to me it felt WONDERFUL!

So, explanation or not, I'm a stay at home mom. I'm glad we finally got that clear.

Also, when our basement flooded I realized that I've been hiding the fact that there's a child in my home. I know...you're shocked!!!

You're surprised because: 1. I hate things to be untidy. 2. I've been so sick that it's been difficult to keep things straight so I put things in bins. 2. If you can't keep it clean, hide the mess.

Plus, if I keep enough things hidden when people visit, maybe no one would realize that I'm at home with a child, they might think I'm working, or forget that I work at home, right, because that's the way we really say it, right parents?

Never mind that there is in fact a child there! And we even play with him. But his belongings were previously kept to the basement and his room like a room for rent guest.

But once we had to move his stuff upstairs, it became REAL everywhere I looked that Brock lived everywhere in the house. He pretty much had access to everything now. He's here just as much as I am, right?

He real and he's large (seriously for a 2 year old he is), in charge, he's fast and he's dangerous (Brock smash!). And with that, there's this other piece, he's excited about everything. He cheers at letters, numbers, trees, and friends he knows. He's generous with love, he has likes and dislikes. He loves dogs and torturing our dog and loves bananas. He hugs and kisses both Grandmas and makes pizza disappear. He runs to Daddy when he comes home.  He randomly jumps in our laps, loves books (so much that he throws them in our faces when he wants us to read them, it hurts as much as it sounds.)

Sorry...

What is my child is a real person and has things in our house - and other people can see them?  Things I can't control anymore for 100 Alex.

Sometimes I think it's the simple truths. The truths we were handed or those things we think we have control over.(which is almost nothing) It's so hard to enjoy the ride sometimes, it seems like life is just so hard especially when everything else seems out of control. But every road block you're able to move out of the way, every letter learned, every fault recognized, every color understood, everything becomes so much more revealing. Life becomes new and the learning never ends.

So my confession is real, and I don't really care about any credit or criticism at this point. Brock and I keep learning, only our flashcards look a little different, but I try to act excited about the letters, trees and especially the dinosaurs :)

My son in the cemetery

 

There's a really weird thing about kids and time. Even if you don't have kids, they have a way of reminding you "It's been 3 years? She's going to be 3?" And they have this constant reminder about mortality. Thanks Brock. You see, there's this thing called responsibility and all your stupid choices have to revolve around them. You can just blow all your money on scratch off tickets and sit your own pile of glorious scratch off dust. Who's addicted?


No, kids remind you that you're going to die. They remind you that other people have died. You hurry up and get them in pictures so that they can be in pictures with people before they die (even though they will never remember this) because you want them to be in said picture before that person dies.

Plus, will they take care of you? What will happen when you die? Will they die before you? OH MY GOD? See --- mortality.

Now I'm prefacing this like I am above all of this, which is a big ole load of crap. My 100 year old grandmother recently died and you better believe we have several pictures with all of us.

But something really touching happened yesterday and in a world where so much goes wrong, I just thought I'd tell you about this sweet little moment with my sweet little boy.

My mom had to stop by the cemetery where my grandmother was recently buried, I hadn't been there since she had been buried. I've been so many other times because it's the same spot where my brother Teddy was buried. At first I was planned to wait in the car. If you have a toddler you really hate to wrangle them in and wrangle them out. But then I remembered all of the beautiful butterflies flew around the cemetery and I knew he'd like that, so I pulled Brock out of the car and started to walk around.

It was the oddest sensation of my life. Watching my kid stand on graves that he would one day put me in and he would one day be in (unless, of course science has found the cure for life).  Brock just stood there and he just smiled. He ran about like little boys do, touching to vases and some of the nick knacks people lovingly left on graves - don't worry he didn't break anything. And then it dawned on me that I might as well show him where his family is buried.

It as a haul but I carried him (and a few bug bites-as big as butterflies the real ones must have migrated) and we found the spot where our family lay to rest. I introduced him to everyone. I told him who they were. I saved my brother for last.

Before I could start the introduction Brock fell to his knees at my brother's gravesite and started to feel the letters on his head stone. I instantly started to cry. He is not a still boy, but he sat there (for a second).  After then he got up and started collecting his favorite things leaves and rocks. He left a stick in the vase for my Aunt Barbara (not sure why the stick). But his favorite things that he kept walking around with were these soft light brown leaves. He carefully laid one on my brother's headstone.

Now, I was obviously a wreck and kids just do weird stuff. And, honestly I'm going though a difficult time right now in my life, so I'd like to think that there was something, even if he sensed how important my brother was to me. It was a good moment.

I'm not ashamed to say, I followed up our visit, tear stained face and all with the best southern comfort bbq there is - Bessengers.

Hebrews 6:19 and 2 Cor 12:9

You don't own anything

Recently, let me say, very recently we were the lucky parents of beautiful new blue weimaraner. We named him Coal. We were instantly in love.There was one problem with Coal, he was a puppy. The fact that he was a puppy was in no way his fault. But I'm still recovering, I have a 20 month baby old, another dog and husband that works very full time. I also have an interview for a very promising job coming up - but more on that later.

Well, that's the setup to my tears and screaming. My husband knew that Coal had become too much work and decided he had to go. Let me make this abundantly clear - I was not ready to say goodbye. And I have never felt a pain like this knowing that Coal was somewhere out in the world with someone else's family, that he would very easily forget me. So I struggled to find some sort of lesson from this mess.


I never owned Coal. In fact, I don't own my husband or my child. I don't own the words I'm typing or the coffee cup I drink from. You could argue that the words are mine, but who is going to cross check some chicks blog?

Several years ago my brother died. I won't go into the details because this is not what this is about. I'll save that whole story for another day. When he died we were obviously devastated. We picked out the coffin (awful by the way, my advice is go cheap no one ever sees it again) We picked out the flowers, and where we wanted people to send money to in lieu of flowers (which no one listens to anyway). You pick your music and verses and you are thrilled to have a woman priest because your brother was gay and it's just sort of a last jab, And if you're a sister like me, you do the eulogy.

All of that is nice, but your brother is gone and you realize you never really had him anyway. He was kind of on loan. And I think back to every moment, thinking what if I knew that? What if I knew that he was simply on loan for a short period of time? Would it change our relationship?

And that's just the people. So many people like stuff. My brother liked stuff. (Car, furniture, decor) Let me tell you getting all of his stuff to our home was quite a challenge. God bless my brothers on their journey because I could never-ever have been able to do that.

The thing is once we got all of his stuff that we couldn't donate we had huge piles of stuff in our home. I quickly became a"do you want that?" "could you use that?" IT even hurt some feelings. But is was all suff. We sadly and emotionally divided my brother's possessions knowing full well that the memories would never be replayed or replaced. It was one of the most difficult days of my life because I realized that none of the things were really "his" they were just things that would remind us of him.

My 100 year of grandmother passed away very recently. And I have to be honest, if someone broke into her house they would turn right around any run right back out that door! She had so much stuff (I think she was the inspiration for the TV show "Hoarders" she just had 9 kids and so many grandchildren you couldn't count to keep her in check.  As far as all of her "stuff" went you couldn't figure out what you were looking at, Everyone called her Queen Bee, because even though a lot of the things she bought were Kmart specials and Christmas gifts with no tags from 1973, those were her treasures. And boy did she sit on her throne. She may have been ordering from QVC, but that's her right, I mean she lived to be 100! Don't hate. But once she passed on those things were divided up and all of her belongings gone. (Well it's in progress). Sad as it sounds it became mounds and mounds of stuff.

I try to treasure the people in my life as I can, I'm not great at it. And I  definitely do not think of my elders as much as I should. But it's not just the elders, it's your friends you see everyday and cherish and call just to complain. They very well could be the one you'll find out in a month has cancer, or a brain tumor, a heart problem, or is suffering from deep and dark suicide. None of us truly know.

As heart breaking as losing my Grandmother recently, my brother, and Coal's short visit, it's a reminder to treasure the short time we have with one another. There's a mysterious ticking clock running out between everyone of us. We have no idea how much time we have with each other. And we can choose to live in fear or make the most of it and treat it as a blessing.

I look at my son and I pray for him each night that he would grow to be happy and healthy. And selfishly I wish that I would be there to see it. And one day (in a blink of an eye) he will leave me for a partner of his own because I don't own him. Because God just gave me the privilege of raising/renting him for awhile and every moment is precious. And what an honor.

Waste No Time

A year seems like a long time.  I've lived 35 of them...and some change.  And some years had a bigger impact than others. This last one has been a crazy one.

I think about past summer's that I slept through. Probably sucked in a bunch of radon from a Cincinnati basement (who knew back then) eating Coco Pebbles for lunch, well because it was 11am, turning on the TV and being blinded by the light streaming in from the window wells.  There were Schwan creamsicles in the fridge and the sun came up and went down and the days wasted away. Some days my parents were frustrated with my lack of interest in, well, anything. And I'd think, maybe I should do, something, maybe I should find a way to help others or well "be better" or more active. But then I'd get tired and take a nap.

I'd lie if this didn't happen a few times, like a couple of years. I mean school wasn't exactly difficult and life was pretty easy. I loved soccer, I had friends, it's all sort of a big mind gloop of easy. And I'd sit in the backyard on my swing-set and dream of getting older and all the "fun" of growing up. Thinking about being old (like 26) probably have a few kids by then. I'd probably drive a convertible, be an executive with a car phone, have 2 weimaraners (Lucy and Ethel). Beyond that superficiality, you'll be proud to know that I thought about a little bit more. I imagined holidays and laughter, a life full of love, family and friends, (the fantasy would continue.)

And most of us don't get the exact swing-set dream.  Life doesn't play like the movie in our 9 year old minds. Life finds a way to reroute our plans, we move off course.  And it's proven how little control we have, that our dreams have value but - they are just dreams. 

Each time life has a detour, we have a choice. We can fight and get angry that we didn't get to go on the original path or we can look around and see the sights and enjoy the images of the detour and try to appreciate it for what it is and where it sends you.

Recently, my mom and I went to Atlanta to visit my brother for a short trip. We expected the GPS to send us on a direct trip through the major expressways and get us there directly.  Unfortunately, the GPS got mixed up and sent us on a wild ride through all of the back towns and twisted roads and old farms and Americana that is South Carolina. Honestly, I was so frustrated, I kept yelling..loudly, "Where are we?" (I'm a great mom). It was going to take forever to get there. I couldn't control the car, I couldn't navigate, I couldn't see what was coming around each corner. I was so used to the straight path of the expressway. I wanted to go faster, and this route forced me to get passed by every car.  It also gave me the opportunity to see the vast landscape and the towns that have thrived and those that died. There are some beautiful sites there. But, I was terrified, it took awhile and I was tense all of the way to the expressway because I had to navigate through every turn.  Even with some of the beauty, I swore there was no way I would take that route on the way back, there was no way I wanted to be detoured in the dark, it would slow me down again AND I would be scared!

Well, I didn't take that route on the way back, I ended up with a much more twisty, much more complicated route. My mom was actually joking with me! Before it got dark though, there was a beautiful sunset that happened right over the scenery, and I'm sure we would have missed it if we hadn't gone on this detour mishap. But make no mistake, I was freaking out and terrified.

I think that detour helped me think about this last year and my struggle with epilepsy and all of the aftermath. It was awful, unexpected and terrifying. It wasn't the only detour, but it was, in fact, one of the scariest moments yet. It doesn't mean there haven't been my own "sunsets." It doesn't mean I haven't been taught something from this year, that I haven't been able to see things in others, in myself, about life because things slowed down. People surprised me in ways I never expected. And it doesn't mean I wasn't angry, sad and disappointed.

Now, I've had a little distance with those years I've wasted, I'm really grateful that I had them to "waste." I'm really happy that I took some time to rest and dream. Adult life is hard. I'd like to think I was resting up and gearing up for some of these crazy adventures I'd face, like, somehow concession stand pool pizza and ice cream truck red white and blue popsicles could have been my power foods like a mushroom is to Mario.. (This could totally be seen as an excuse, but I'm still saying it.)

Imaging the drive in S.C. and the scary detour, the winding roads and my mom taunting me from the passenger seat telling me "this is how every horror movie begins" as the roads went completely dark and it started to rain. Now the fear becomes a laugh and joke, and years from now we will tell the story to Brock and delight him in the drama that he was too little to understand from the backseat of the car.

A year after one of the toughest times for me, I can tell you it's not laughable, I'm not ready to do again, It's tough to think about. Not being able to function, multiple seizures a day, struggling, all of it. It's taught me something. It taught me that the swing-set dream (although the numbers were pretty far off) the rest of it was pretty accurate. I dreamt of a life full of love, family and friends.  And over the last year it's been proven to me over and over again that's exactly what I have.  The frustration of letting go, taking it in and letting life be what it is, an experience, a moment. None of it is wasted because it's an experience and I've realized that I have the choice to let go and and enjoy the moment or fight and and be angry. Letting go of the anger has been the greatest gift once I've found some strength to try it. Some days are easier than others, sometimes something in life jumps up and reminds me of the pain. There's loss and struggle and so much to think about. But there is so much to be grateful for...so much to be proud of and so much to continue to grow from. And no matter what happens each and every day there's a sunset.

The Kindness Ding-Dong-Ditch

I changed the name of my blog and the description because it didn't really match my experience. It's not just about healing. I think it's all about accepting the constant change, or the temporary new normal, growing and learning, then getting ready for the next phase.

I'm not a very serious person, but I have serious thoughts.  I think way, way, too much. So much, in fact, that it can send me into spiral after spiral of anxiety and worry and scenarios and possibilities.  In other words, if you think I'm a "go with the flow" type of girl, I've got you fooled pretty darn well.

There's this thing about people who are chronic "over-thinkers" (this is just my opinion, I have no research to back any of this crap up, just human observation) but I think it's because we think we have influence and control over the outcome. So, we run through scenarios about what we think we CAN control that can influence the outcome. I've sort of run through this before, it's why I'm an awful backseat driver.

But recently, I was in therapy (I still think ick to that every time I type it - just for me - not for anyone else) and my therapist was listening (very lucratively) to me drone on and on about scenario after scenario.  He told me to stop a minute.

He said, "You're a very smart person, and from what I know of you so far you seem to make really good decisions and choices. You react well to your environment and you can handle things that come your way,  What would it like look like if you detached yourself from the outcomes?"

DETACHED MYSELF FROM THE OUTCOMES????

I was mad at first, it was like a reflex, because that means that all the time I spent preparing and worrying and planning and setting things up would be pointless.  And my brain eased into his suggestion and I felt good, like after a massage good.  What would it look like?  Better yet, what would it feel like?

How would I fill all of that time? LOL? How would I relieve stress?  I mean the most effective way I dealt with stress was to OVER PREPARE for outcomes.  Then I would relax(ish). And the more stress the more over-preparing.

I've been thinking about that -meditating - praying about it for a while now. And then I found my favorite stress reliever.

Before I get into that, let me say that I am not that great at detaching from outcomes I struggle daily...I am really really really working on it. We took our son to our friend's house a while back and there's a lake there.  I dressed my son, in goggles, water shoes, a life jacket - the works.  He could barely walk in 1 feet of water. LOL. It was so me. I took almost everything off and the situation drastically improved. I was over-planned and definitely over-parenting.

Recently, we've gotten a new puppy, I won't even get into how stressful that's been. Anyone whose ever had a puppy can relate. If you have ever had a puppy and a baby at the same time and want to cry with me, feel free to give me a call.

My initial reaction was to over-plan, over-train, set crazy expectations. Everyone should get along, get on a schedule - make life easy, perfect outcomes! It won't be easy, but as long as I stay ahead of the situation and put my typical perfection plan in place all will be okay ---- lies ALL LIES!!

You see, even though we had a new puppy, the other dog decided to throw up everywhere for 3 days, in-between pillows, all over, including on me!  The baby got sick, a terrible sinus infection. Randy and I were up every few hours letting the pup out to go to the bathroom, so we were exhausted, and then we both got sick.  Oh yeah, and I have epilepsy so I've been adjusting to a new medication dosage that's zapped my energy and made me sick. In other words, no way to control this outcome.

So, when I could finally get it together and buy enough resolve to cover all of the throw up and pee stains on the carpet, I got the baby in the car and escaped to take him to the park. And that's when I figured out what really makes me feel better.

(I preface this next part with a sincere request that I am not looking for any praise or credit, it's just what makes me feel better. I'm not trying to look "holier-than-thou" or better than anyone else. If you think it's something that helps you, by all means go for it, if it's not your thing, no judgement here.)

So, when I could barely pick up my head and I was thinking about how I was barely going to get through the day, I pulled into Starbucks. I remembered that last Christmas, it was kind of a "thing" to buy the drink of the order behind you. So, I did it. And I giggled pulling away from the drive thru.  And then I did it somewhere else, once again, giggling and thinking about the look on his/her face laughing to myself and wondering how far that little act of kindness might go. I'd have my husband pay the bill and secretly leave extra cash tips on the table when we went out to eat. And I'd smile to myself.  The thing is, it started to distract me from how frustrated and sick I was...

There's another act of kindness that's really fun, but almost impossible to escape. You see, I don't have a lot of opportunities to schedule hair cuts so when I get a moment I usually go to the quick convenience places, where you don't have to wait very long. I find that people who work there are really kind, they like to talk, and generally work really hard. I always tip them 100% of the bill. I know it seems that most of these are about money but they don't have to be.

Then I went to the park with my son.  We were there about a half hour when a woman was running around frantically. No one else seemed to care. I walked over to her and asked her if she needed help.  She said her son was missing. Brock and I stopped what we were doing, I picked him up and instantly began searching after she described what he was wearing.  Luckily, I found him in a tree.  I tried to escape before the mom could thank me, but we didn't get away.  She was extremely grateful and looked at me awkwardly for stopping to help.  I told her I couldn't imagine how terrifying that would be.

More and more opportunities started coming my way in random places. People who just needed to talk about a raccoon in their attic, a daughter undergoing surgery, a man who's son who happens to have autism and became a star on his varsity basketball team, a woman who gave up a high-powered career to stay home with her kids after her husband died of cancer. A new parent. Listening to them was the kindness they needed. It seemed so random, it never happened so often before. Sometimes at the end of our conversations it was odd, almost like I should get a phone number, or stay in touch, but the moment wasn't about that, it was about a brief moment of kindness. And we parted ways...



It's like a kindness ding-dong-ditch.

Becoming a GREMLIN!!

If it seems like all I did as a kid is eat cereal in a basement in Ohio (get it together LeBron!) during my summer breaks and watch 80s movies over and over so that they have crept so deeply into my psyche that I can't relate this struggle to anything else...


Well...you'd be close.  I also ate a lot of "Schwan - man" french toast sticks and personal pan pizzas that we microwaved frequently as well.  You gotta have lunch when you wake up at noon. Even if the pepperoni is square and everything tastes like salt.

So, this movie right?  There's this thing called a mogwai, and the one from the movies (because the first was so great they had to make more) is called Gizmo. Now, the owner of Gizmo has several rules he must follow in order for Gizmo not to become a gremlin. At the beginning of the story we don't really know what that is, and frankly we just know the rules and in case you don't remember, here they are:

• Never expose it to bright light (it will kill it)
• Never let it touch water (it will multiply)
• Never (ever...we are warned) feed it after midnight. (this is how we get gremlins)

Other than a love for a classic tale of an irresponsible inventor, his son, and a cute mogwai, the story has some personal significance.

Several months back, (like last August), so almost a year back, I started to notice that several things started to make my seizures worse.

•  Sounds (loud noises, low frequencies, high pitched repetitive noises, multiple conversations happening at the same time)
• Stress
• Lack of sleep
• Bright lights
• Foods, (there's a long list her so bare with me: sugar, foods with preservatives, artificial colors, wheat, sugar substitutes...basically fake foods in any format)

A lot of people are curious about the food thing - not sure why, but they like to ask and sometimes challenge the specific diet changes I  made while I was figuring out triggers. Sometimes people criticized, people thought I was doing it to lose weight (like that was a big concern) but whatever. The food part became the biggest "tell" for a seizure. If I ate something that was "fake enough" to cause a problem my feet would tingle.  And it didn't take long.  I would normally just stop eating the food, that was usually enough to stop the issue.  At first I didn't know what was happening and ate through the tingle which led to a seizure at restaurants. Plus, during the first couple of months one of my meds took away my desire to eat, which also didn't help the weight loss, so the result was a lot of weight loss really fast.

It's funny... I've been on meds before that which made me gain weight. When I told people that I'm on meds that had this side effect people had so much sympathy due to the lack of control, they'd say things like "I'm sorry, you know it's not your fault, I hope that things normalize for you soon."  But telling people I've lost weight and it's kind of scary because it happened fast and it was out of my control, well, there's no sympathy, as a matter of fact, people act like you're annoying...like oh, poor you, you've lost weight, BIG PROBLEM.  We have so many double standards as humans.

(Sometimes - that's called getting sick.)

But I won't deny that being healthy and getting to a weight that works for me is a focus in my life now, mainly because being healthy helps with my stress level and my sleep, and really my overall health. It helps with my disorder. I'm not perfect at it, but I try.

The nice thing is that when the medicines leveled out they helped make most of these rules less important. I mean, I can eat some things that aren't pure and not get into any trouble.  (Health nuts are shaking their heads) LOL.  Moderation right?  But, I just want to live a normal life and make healthy choices for myself because I want to not because I am following a list of rules that where I "have to."

But if you've read my last blog, you know that my meds haven't been working 100% and last weekend at a friend's lake house I had a seizure. That's the return of 2 seizures. I had a blood test the last couple of weeks and my levels are all low. This is not good news.  What's been different?

I haven't been following all of the rules.

Hang head.

Mostly...foods.  I delighted in a little ice cream. Then I tried a little more.  After I had the first seizure I was so mad and so convinced that nothing was working anyway I just threw caution to the wind and decided I was going to go on a bender!  I ate chocolate and smores, and a whole bunch of fun stuff.

IT WAS GLORIOUS!!!!  Breaking the rules was so much fun.

But the seizure sucked and I felt ashamed like I couldn't tell anyone, because my rules weren't a secret and people saw me break the rules. No one judged me. Friends have been great.

I got my levels checked again this morning. Last night was my last rule-breaking moment.  I'm back off the good stuff....tear. I have no idea why that has such an effect on me. I don't even think it's related to the medicine.

My friends have often described me as a "rule follower" sometimes I think it was good preparation. I don't know how I would have gotten through the last few months without that discipline. My doctor believes days without any of these rules are coming up, well because I asked. LOL. I just feel tied down, by medicine, and by my choices.

I still don't know how Gizmo managed to save himself through what - 3 movies?  2? I don't even remember. I just know that rule-following was very important and as a kid that message was received loud and clear. I was totally afraid of those gremlins and made sure to listen to the cautionary ending of that movie...

"Well, that's the story. So if your air conditioner goes on the fritz, or your washing machine blows up, or your video recorder conks out; before you call the repairman turn on all the lights, check all the closets and cupboards, look under all the beds, 'cause you never can tell; there just might be a gremlin in your house".

In all fairness, I may not be to blame, but these rules are all I have to cling to right now, they seem to be the only thing to making a difference.  I think everyone has rules or guidelines in their lives that keep them from becoming a "gremlin," I think we all get off course and struggle to find a way back, find a way to stay on track. Sometimes we lean on family or friends, we dig in and find strength to pick ourselves back up, or we rely on God for strength, knowing we can't do it alone. Sometimes we have to change the rules, modify them, work with them, I think the best thing we have are people in our lives where we can be our true selves once we've gone over the edge and need to find our way back. They understand us, forgive us, show us grace and understanding for breaking the rules. My husband and I have struggled to meet there in the past, but now he's the master of this. He understands how to hold my hand and lead me back to that place. My strength and his love and grace has helped keep me a mogwai. I wouldn't want to go through this journey without both of our learning and love.

There's that thing about not having any control

I have a confession, I've had a secret plan all along. I had a big reveal planned. I've told some of you that I haven't had any seizures so far this year. I was really stoked for a "6 months no seizures" sign to post on my Facebook page and the Epilepsy Support Page.  It's actually a really exciting moment for anyone with epilepsy, and in many situations it's the beginning of freedom, the moment you can drive, the moment you are considered "controlled" the moment you are considered "healthy."

I wanted that for myself.

I wanted to share that with you, and post that in a huge celebratory way.

It's how this story was supposed to go.

But...(I think you already know where this is heading...)

Last Tuesday night, after going almost 5 months without a seizure, my body betrayed me, and it happened.

...

Randy and I both tried to talk ourselves out of the negative spin as fast as we could - we unwound ourselves as fast as we could. But my tears couldn't keep up and the thought that I failed and my plan failed and retracing all of my steps, my diet, my sleep, my stress, everything.

What had I done differently?

How had I caused this?

My plan was ruined.

My big reveal spoiled.

I kept thinking I was going to make it to that "easy place" you know...It's that moment where you ride your bike, you are at the top of a hill right before you start going down  I also think about it like a runner. There's that runner's euphoria and at a certain point in a long run there's a high and it carries you. You've done the hardest part, and then there's a moment where you get a lift and you get carried, there's something of an "easy place" and it's where the work pays off...

I thought that I could control this, I thought if I put the work in, I'd get there.

I think that's called bargaining, it's definitely trying to control something I don't have any control over. I've thought about it over the last few days. I'm in a better place and I'm able to focus on what I've gained so much more than what I've lost. This seizure was another reminder that I can't put life on a timetable. I've always tried to plan so many things, pretty much down to the minute.

I've focused on the positive, and sometimes I think it's because I thought there was this reward at the end, like if I was positive then I'd get to "healthy" or that epilepsy would be resolved. I thought I was smart enough or tough enough or just stubborn enough to work through this and it would be done, and I will have made it.

Sound familiar? I think back to my very first post.

I'm a fan of the theory that if you don't learn from past mistakes you'll often repeat them.  I'm not saying that it's why I had a seizure but it's definitely a moment to take a look and figure out my expectations.  Am I living with this? Or am I trying to fix this? I am not superhuman! I can not cure all things. I can not Type A everything into happy.  In fact, I think the whole point is that I was Type A'ing everything into frustration and disappointment (disclaimer - not all Type A people do this, I am just talking about myself.)

So, now I'm starting over, not with a count, because - well that is sort of pointless. At this point I can drive a little. No one is taking my license away right now - today, who knows about tomorrow and I'm getting to take my kid to the library and to the park. I'm starting over with expectations. I guess this is part of my life now. It's like a freckle on my face I'm going to have to get used to looking at everyday now.

Stupid Epilepsy.

I'm sorry (but only kind of)

I'm a liar. No, not a liar. I'm just confused. Well, not confused, I'm on a journey, right? I know that sounds so hokey, and I cringe as I go back and read some of the flowery stuff that I've written. Some of it was soaked in and dripping so much with emotion that I just couldn't wring it out to get down to any sort of substance. But that's okay. It's where I was at, I'm okay with it. I'm also okay with cringing and having a slight knot in my stomach, much like looking back on my wall bangs and the white turtleneck I had to wear in my band photo in the sixth grade.

Sorry - No pictures here...way too much of a cringe.

Can anyone explain to me who decided that white pants were a good choice for middle school girls for band?  I mean there were certain biological events that were imminent and embarrassing - weren't teachers smarter than that? "Who were the ad wizards that came up with that one?"  Probably the band teacher - I didn't like her much. I'd probably still be playing something if she hadn't discouraged me and made me feel terrible and shamed me in front of the entire band several times.  Ugh ... plus those white pants!

Tangent, sorry.

So back to why I'm a journey-liar-ish-emotional-non instrument-fear of white pants wearing person...

Several posts back I mentioned very clearly that at 35 years old I had no idea how to be happy. Over the course of this whole whale riding of an experience I've spent a great deal of that time underwater holding my breath.  But recently, I've come up for air, and it's felt great to breathe again. It's not an answer to the question but a place to begin.

I preface this next part with a STRONG EMPHASIS THAT I AM NOT TALKING FOR ANYONE ELSE, JUST FOR ME: (But maybe someone has another issue - I think sometimes that if we could just find a way to get beyond these limitations - we'd all be floating along...) okay getting to it...

One thing I discovered very quickly as I came up for a breath and I started to get a little energy back was that, despite some other lingering serious issues, I was able to do some exercising again. This time exercising felt different. It felt different because I was so much lighter. I did not seek out losing weight at first, but it was a byproduct of what happened to me. I've mentioned that from my very first seizure I've lost a lot of weight.

Also, no pictures...I don't think it's important to post that because it's not about appearance it's a personal thing.

Although I'm not entirely sure, but it's possible, that being a little overweight may have stopped me from doing things that I enjoyed doing when I was younger and a little leaner. Anyone else know how that happens? You gain 10 lbs one year?  Then 5 the next?  Then another?  And it just gets away from you...it's like the real you starts slipping by and then before you know it you look and feel like a different person.  

I used to be fearless and brave. I used to dive into things, jump off of things, go rock climbing, horseback riding - you name it, I never wanted to say no, If it was an option, I wanted to say yes.  But I realized slowly over the years I started to say no, this confident girl had turned into a shy woman, not just because of the weight - although maybe that is how it got started but soon after it became a learned behavior - it stuck.  I still had some bravery in me, mind you, and I still had fun, but it wasn't the TRUE ME, the AUTHENTIC ME, the way I was before. I lost something as I was gaining something as the years went on.

These days I carry my son around, and I often remind myself of some of the weight I used to carry around. Not because I feel as though I want to punish myself because of how terrible it was, but just a reminder as a symbol of how I felt weighed down, and held back. It's really not easy to carry him everywhere! I'm really glad he can walk now!

Ok, here's the other thing I realized, I think people mean what they say. Both the good and the bad. So often I've given people the benefit of the doubt. Especially in my career. I'd let people walk all over me and then defend them. It's was an exhausting part of my work. But it was one for all and all for - well honestly, it didn't always work both ways.  People would look me in the eye and say horrible things to me, but I'd go to work and forgive them and move on.  I kept allowing the negative things to continue, I didn't think they "meant" what they said I thought that it was a facade or a mistake.  And a good bit of that Pollyanna-esk attitude is helpful, but eventually you have a responsibility to yourself to reach a point of understanding that they really are who they are telling you they are, it's time. I've definitely missed that time...several times.

But there's an upside, right? If people mean what they say, then when they say something good, they mean it too. So when they say, "come to my lake house,"... then you should go to their lake house. Don't say, no...and brush it off.  You go to their lake house! LOL. In my life, I tend to walk away from generosity, but offer it. I was discussing this with a friend recently. The funny thing is we are the same, we do the same for each other, we are more like family then friends.  And that is what family does, they are open, they share, there is no "even -Steven" no expectations, just generosity, and openness. There are no secret intentions, no exchanges, no expectations. I get annoyed when people expect things from you because they did something for you, "Well, I lent you this, so you should give me this?"  Are we friends or a library?

We went to our friend's lake house a few weeks ago and all of these things were encapsulated.  Not only an amazing time sharing in the generosity of others but I got to be a kid again, kayaking, jumping in freezing cold water because I felt brave again. I rolled around in the dirt with sweet and friendly dogs. I saw my sweet baby boy enjoy the outdoors just like his Mom. I daydreamed about the first time I would take him fishing, his first time on a boat, his first time camping. And my family surrounded me.

I was overcome with happiness. So, forgive me for lying, I just forgot, I didn't mean what I said.

Timehop and my never ending love of the Neverending Story

So, things are better. Yay. Most of the time:)

Definitely on the right track. I should be happy, and I am, but sometimes I'm scared. It's not that I'm not happy, I'm thrilled, I'd take scared over sick and zombie-like any day of the week, and the scared feeling gets less as the progress gets better...but it's still scary.

You know that Timehop app? Well, that's an app designed for people who don't have scary stories,  don't have heartache, haven't gotten sick, haven't lost a job. (and beyond for sure, scarier stuff that I haven't had to deal with, like cancer, loss of a child, and worse, things I can't imagine and don't want to).

I'm now convinced that people with scary stories who originally naively downloaded that app have unfortunately unleashed a beast that is a ticking time bomb of the upcoming daily (and painful) reminders of all the stupid crap they've been through during those times.

But that's just the glass half empty version of the app right? What about the flip side?

If you have that silly app (which I do by the way, so I'm not app shaming you), you can also see how far you've come in a year or 6. I'm not talking about myself here necessarily but...Maybe they've lost 100 lbs? Run a 5k? Maybe a marathon? Finally made the move to the other side of the country? Kicked cancer's ass? Pulled themselves out of a terrible relationship? Changed careers? Finally got fertility treatments that worked and they are holding a sweet baby and now looking back on those distant struggles with a sigh of relief that it was all worth it. Were they were braver than they thought they could be?
Cue empowering music and montage of inspirational pictures slideshow here (Maybe Sara Barielles Brave?) - kidding.

I think one of the biggest flaws we have (as humans) is that we underestimate our ability to get out of the muck, take a big ole fat step out, scrape off our shoes and keep moving.  I think we focus so much on where we are we can't see beyond, we get blinded by the now.

In a past blog, I mentioned one of the greatest movies of all time (okay not really) The Neverending Story where Artax (the horse) dies in the swamp of sadness. Part of the reason people (and apparently horses) die in the swamp of sadness is because they can't get beyond their own heads, their own feelings to see beyond.

I have definitely lived in this place several times in my life. I've made bad choices and I've let things overwhelm me. I've felt sorry for myself, and what's weird about all of it is that the foggy nothingness has always felt the same. I've chosen the swamp of sadness and I can tell you it really didn't matter how severe the issue, perception was the reality.  My length of residency there was determined by how long I planned to stay focused on the muck not necessarily the issue. 

This time may be different. I don't know. I have good days and bad days. Some nights I have really bad dreams and they shake me for the whole day, some times they shake me for the week. I have dreams that I've missed meetings at work (my old job) and then I realize that it's all gone, no meetings to miss, no work to go to the next day. Sometimes I have dreams that I'll have a seizure in a crowd of people and everyone will laugh at me. And sometimes I wake up and cry. I get mad that all of this was "supposed to be over" it's supposed to be ending.  This was not supposed to be the "neverending story of struggle".  Whatever the anxiety, however I fear there will be betrayal, I get up and keep moving, I keep moving out of the muck.

There's a new reality in my life. I have epilepsy. I'm not going to die from it, but I have it. It's not going to dramatically change my life anymore, but it did. It took a lot of things from me. It took my job, it damaged some friendships. It put pressure on my marriage. Those are real things. I'm not going to sugarcoat it and I'm putting it out there because I think it's been helpful for me to be real and not hide from my truth. There are pictures of smiles and a cute kid and life, but life is real and pain is real and anyone who thinks Facebook and status updates are real, well frankly, you are very confused. My life is changed forever and I am changed. But I survived I am strong and it's the new normal. 

I also have a new joy. I had a serious medical scare, and it turned out it was only epilepsy and I'm not going to die from it. I am fortunate. The damage caused by those awful seizures and issues are hopefully behind me, great news!  Epilepsy isn't great and my life changed, but I've heard from and seen friends I haven't spoken with in some time. And that's kind of like hitting the friend jackpot all over again.  I've spent priceless time with my son, I saw him walk, heard his first words, played with him on the playground, stored up hugs and kisses galore. There's a yin and a yang to this time that I could never come close to comprehending at the beginning. 

At 35 years old, I'm a present participant in my life, I'm getting healthy, I'm safe and loved. I can't go back to my old life, and honestly, I don't want to. I still tear up when I think about some of the happy times I used to have building playgrounds and walking through the halls of my old job. I miss the freedom I used to have where I didn't worry about my body betraying me, and sometimes I'm sad about the hearing loss. But I've found a new joy, and a new hope that came with this suffering. And a new spiritual connection.

About a month ago I was looking through the Timehop app when I started to cry, I thought about the pain that was going to come in a year as I looked through pictures of last July/August when all of this happened back when everything hit really hard. I thought about deleting the app, I thought about hiding from the memories and trying to escape from it. But, as silly as it all is, looking back and facing it is helpful. Thinking about the transformation, even at this point, the changes and the strides I've made, the path I've chosen to take at this point. Looking back on those pictures where I suffered, now I can't think of anything more beautiful.

There's continued hope in healing, strength in struggle, and deeper compassion you can offer to others from experiencing that suffering.

Plus I've made a lot of ridiculous faces over the years and Parvesh has dressed up in ridiculous clothes and who wants to miss that?

Light

Things have been difficult. No lie.

Below are some photos from right before everything started, this is what I looked like:

Of course things changed this past summer...


And then it hit, and this is what I looked like:




















Sometimes a picture speaks a thousand words. I haven't taken many pictures of myself recently because I've felt as though there has been a light that has left my eyes and my face. It's a comment many people have shared with me. "You look a little bit better, but I can see it in your eyes."

I know that no one means anything negative and I have tried to focus on the positive, but it's been hard to deny that all of this experience which has taken it's toll on so many things, hasn't also taken it's toll on my face and my soul shining outward from within.

My husband and I recently decided that through all of this hard time we needed time to reconnect. We struggled through what that would look like. My parents came out and stayed with our little guy to give us a weekend to ourselves.  Baby Boy is almost 15 months and I've never been away from him unless I was in the hospital. Without a ton of details, (to be honest I don't want to be critical of the original plan) - but our plans got derailed and changed.  We found ourselves in Chicago, bags packed, car parked and in a bit of chaos. We were stuck in the midst of a decision of what to do.  We made a commitment to spend time together, but the original plan just wasn't going to work.

Here's what I love and hate about my husband (isn't that always the way?) He makes a decision and commits so fast it makes my head spin...I like to ponder, run it over a few times. But, he won and we quickly switched gears and went home that night. We took out one set of clothes from our suitcase and put in another set of clothes into our suitcase and got a quick night's sleep. We woke up found a hotel and drove to Starved Rock. Just like that, I had no time to ponder and no time to spend my typical "Barbara think way too much about it time." Just be. Just drive. No worrying.

There's a picture that we posted on Facebook and it actually looks like me pre-drama. My eyes are bright and I'm alert and happy. We were outside and birds were chirping and we walked hand in hand.  I remembered what fun was! And I remembered how EASY it was to have fun with my husband, how funny he is and how well he listens. Away from everything we were able to talk about our future and our past and how we fought through the last few months and that we were hopeful to be rounding the corner of this...hoping that there wouldn't be a relapse-but even if it happened, that we were still so happy with the progress.

It was like taking a step out of roaring rapids from a river before jumping right back in. We caught our breath, we danced around a fire, we ate great food, and got our strength back, knowing full well that it was temporary and more hard times were waiting in the morning - we knew we had to jump right back in. They weren't the same hard times, some things were getting easier. Now we are facing the aftermath, picking up pieces, deciding how to handle the "moving on" part. The new clarity or lack there of...

After coming back I thought of nothing better than supporting my husband with something he loves most, his friends. We planned our last evening away with his friends, which I helped to madly coordinate via text on the way home. They aren't just his friends, they're our friends. Friends who have become family. During this experience they've all visited, helped, asked, offered, been there. They are my family too. I know why they are so important to him. Oddly, I ran into another very special friend while we were out as well, a previous coworker-I actually almost asked to join us!  It was just fortuitous, as I move forward and realize the people who really made an effort that didn't even know me very well.

I'd like to tell you this is all over, I can tell you that I got good EEG results. Yay! But, there's a little more to the story, and I don't even know what that is yet.  Just know that I am always working on it, I'm truly finding peace in my everyday.

When we were "hiking" in Starved Rock, there was one thing I noticed during our walks surrounded in nature. (I shared this with my husband, but sometimes I think he thinks I've lost my mind a little sitting at home, all in my head getting all spiritual and growing and stuff.)  Here's what I realized: all of the plant life, the flowers and trees that were dead there, (I was looking at them all on the first day of spring), all of those dead leaves that were there under the piles of snow that have now resurfaced. Everything was laying there just waiting. It's all been in waiting mode, waiting to come back. It's been building back up-gearing up for the next stage. Some of the plants won't come back at all, they will die, they won't have enough life to make it. Some of them won't be strong enough. But some of them, somehow, will be stronger than ever, brighter than ever, greener than ever, and bolder than ever.  The winter will have done nothing to stop them from being more than than they were before the winter came...

This is what I aspire to be.

Trading Spaces with TLC

If you've been following my story, I'm still waiting for results from an EEG. I'm hoping that those results will prove that I am on the right track. That will be really, really good news, and it's the only news I'm planning on getting :)  I should know something more some time this week or next. So we've been passing the time...

We recently moved my son into a new room.

We realized a few weeks ago that when my husband got up for work, even with the white noise machine we continued to use from when Brock was an infant, Brock still had trouble sleeping while Randy was getting ready in the mornings.

So the 7AM wake ups were turning into 6:45AM wake ups, then 6:30AM wake ups, 6:15AM...you get the idea. Well, his bedroom is located directly next to ours and also backs up next to our TV. Now that he's become a "light sleeper" we figured it was time to move him into a room that's a little farther away and also a little bigger. We figured it would make it a little easier for us to move around. When we approached this project we noticed there were several things in his room that were dirty and needed repair and/or clean-up. And the glider, oh the glider!  Its the glider we first gently and lovingly rocked our newborn baby boy in. Recently, it had several screws that popped out. This continued week after week for the last couple of months. The thing had become a death trap, I'm not sure why we risked our lives slowly rocking our son and ourselves night after night in a soft and sweet milk-drinking Russian roulette of a chair...but we chanced it. It was past time to throw it out.

But trading spaces was going to be a huge challenge. When we moved into our new home we (I) wanted a "very important" office to do my "very important" office work at home. Most of which I ended up doing on my laptop in my bed at all hours of the night. The desk kind of ended up being a mistake.  Have you ever worked so hard and long on your laptop in bed that your legs get really hot and your sheets stick to you and your laptop becomes a fiery furnace of pain?  You'd think I'd walk the 30 feet over to the giant 1,000 lb desk we bought a year ago, but instead I tortured myself with budgets and branded my self with the backside of a Toshiba.

So, we knew we wanted to move him, but that desk sort of sat there like this ominous L-shaped impossible task. We knew we had to take it apart but were afraid to...

So we waited.

Finally, we decided it was time. We had enough of the early wake ups and the glider had become crooked, it didn't rock anymore and I think even the baby was afraid. Plus Randy's mom had to put him to bed one night and it was bad enough we subjected ourselves to the death trap but we really didn't want to risk anyone else's life, so it was time.

We started Sesame Street one afternoon and just like anything else we faced together Randy and I approached it completely differently. I wanted to draw a diagram and move things 1 by 1 and figure out where each piece was going to go and Randy just wanted to move things and force them into spaces by trial and error and brute force. Randy won out. But I got to take apart the desk.

I won't bore you with the rest of the details, but I will say that like a lot of things in life, it was all much easier than we expected. The desk was 4 screws. We did have to take both doors off the hinges but we easily slid the desk right into the other room.

When his old room was empty, it was dirty. But (just like a sentimental mother would say) I said to Randy, "Remember when we imagined a baby in here? Remember how nervous we were? How scared?"  I remembered that the room was a different color, there were no curtains to darken the room, there were no decals on the wall, no contraptions for holding diapers or hanging pictures.  Everything in the room had no purpose before. Somehow, haphazardly as new parents, we made it all work perfectly. Now I couldn't imagine the room for any other purpose, even with it empty.

Then we moved his furniture into the new room.  It seemed an odd, almost uncomfortable. It was a bigger space and had more room for things, but awkward. Once we moved his furniture around we noticed that some of it was weak in some spots, it needed to be tightened, we hadn't noticed this before, until they were moved around. Also, some of the pictures and figurines didn't make sense in the new room, so they didn't make it in and some of the things on the wall didn't go either.  But the core items moved. They started to make more sense in the new room, actually they made more sense in the new room than in the old room and new ideas started to fill my head about his future, how his crib would become a toddler bed in that room and then a double bed and then I could imagine a chest of drawers. I could imagine a boy seated at a desk doing his homework and that sweet babbling voice would say words and full sentences. The boy would grow here...and it all fell into place and it all made sense.

When Brock took his first nap in his new room (you guessed it) he did not like it. He hated it!!!  And I think Randy would have preferred that I shut the door and let him cry and let him get used to it. But, instead, I picked him up and I comforted him. I walked him around and I told him, "This is yours, all of this is yours, this is your crib, these are your clothes, these are your toys, your changing table, your books."I'm not going to say, he completely stopped crying and went right to sleep, that would be a lie. But there was a peace that came over him when I was explaining and he saw his things around the room. As much peace as a 1 year old can have...

When his room was empty it made me think back to all of the possibility I had when I moved back to the suburbs. I remember being scared. I remember being worried, having absolutely no idea how any of this would work out. I was pregnant, about to start a very big job. Just like the pieces of his room and the colors on the wall, once I was there, it all fit, it all made sense, it all became perfect in a way I could never have predicted. Even the decals on Brock's walls, at first I didn't like them, Randy wanted them, but when I peeled them off, it was difficult, I had grown attached, but after I started peeling the first or second one I couldn't wait to get rid of them all.

Whenever you move furniture I find that it weakens it. The hinges, the nuts and bolts. The legs on chairs and tables. I feel the same way about some changes in life. I think that when we go through a major change there are parts of us that get worn, there are pieces and joints that get damaged, little scrapes and scars that we try to cover up with wood markers and couch material patches, but not everything can be covered. At the same time, we find some weaknesses that we can repair, some extra parts that we DO figure out where they go, some nuts and bolts that DO tighten things up, some furniture and tables and chairs that we CAN make stronger. And I think that change can do this too.

I've been told by some very intelligent people that I thrive during change, that I am unafraid of change. And if that is true then this has been quite the test. I've fought this change, much like Brock cried and screamed when I put him down for a nap in his new room. Worse! I've been kicking and screaming, yelling, getting tattoos, scrambling for any source of comfort except for comfort in the fact that I am weak and broken and that I can be completely taken apart and then rebuilt. And at the same time, that core, those core pieces remained.  And God new that the whole time...

I didn't want to see it. My heart never really changed. I think I was scared I would change. Through all of this there were things that were not going to make it, pictures that weren't going to get hung up on the wall in the new life (friends that may not continue on with me), there were things that needed to get repaired, screws tightened (flaws that needed to be revealed to me, changes that needed to be made), room for new pictures (new friends, or friends from the past that were coming back into my life), the glider that was going to get thrown out (the job I was going to lose). In the new room, in my new possibility, there is a vision for a new start, just like I had when I moved to the suburbs 3 months pregnant in July of 2013 full of hope and possibility and still very much afraid. God was/is there holding my hand walking me around showing me all of the ways I am blessed even on the days I resisted and cried. I'm amazed by his grace even in my own weakness.

By the way. just in case you were wondering, Brock is sleeping soundly each night in his new room. He still wakes us up promptly around 6:30AM and the move has had no impact on the early morning wake ups. If you plan to stop by, feel free to bring a coffee with you!