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!