Day 272

I began today on my knees, talking out loud barely stopping for breath, let alone letting God get a word in edgewise.  I prayed that I would love well today.  Love better than I usually do.  And most especially my husband and children.  That it would come to me like second nature, instead of croaking and groaning from my insides.

Isn't is funny how when we pray for the opportunities to show we will act and not just talk a good talk, He gives it to us?  I prayed for this and oh, did I get the opportunity.

The news that my friend Ch lost her baby at over six months along this morning, the sob that burst from my own lips as the rawness of Friday's Connecticut tragedy still burned.  I didn't stop for a hairbrush, for makeup, I don't think I was wearing socks, I dropped things and ran to her arms.  There's her whole family, inlaws, a moment of family, and I didn't let myself feel awkward, just that love I prayed for.  We wept together and...there are no words.  When I remember my life, I want to remember I ran to her today.  I thought that was to be it, at least for today.

I was wrong.  And this one I can't talk about yet because oh how my prayer was answered and in the past as I got this same news, I have not always handled it with the love I prayed today, this very day to have.  If I had not felt prompted, humbled today to pray for this, I don't know what would have happened in my reaction, especially in this second moment.

For the second time, I had my arms around a loved one as they wept.  This one bears down on my shoulders, this one I can't weep about yet, I must remain strong. 

Oh, and the poem's almost done.  I will make my deadline.  And I will keep praying to love well.

Day 271

What if I can't write this poem?  I have 5 days left.  It looms over me, taunting my empty brain.  I can't remember the last time words just wouldn't come.  I think I have completely psyched myself out of this.  My friend prayed about it and felt strongly that I should write this for her family.  And that's a lot to live up to.  I have all the pieces in place, and the words still aren't coming.

How long have I had this assignment?  I thought I had a gift of words.  I wasn't worried.  I hear these lovely passages and wish it was me who wrote them.  But I wrote enough and had enough experience at feeling like I nailed something or wrote something of value that it all equaled out in the end. 

I know this can be simple, but still the words won't come.  I listen to music.  I don't listen to music.  I walk around with notebooks, keep them by my bed, listen in the shower, picture this family in my head, picture myself writing this masterpiece, but nothing...

I even sat by my friend K today in Gospel Doctrine and read the passage in Ether where they lament their weakness in writing and wish the people reading could hear their speaking because it is so much stronger.  I have always felt that way about my writing and its like its a dry well in there.  K told me she wasn't worried about it at all and knew I would be able to do this.  How can she believe this and I can't?  Where is my belief/faith in this?  I've been praying-I even had T give me a blessing.  Nothing was mentioned about this poem specifically, just that the Lord loves me and is mindful of my prayers.

I know I need faith.  I know it.  If this was just for myself...but I adore this family and I don't want to let my friend down.  I don't want to write drivel in describing this family.  I don't want her to feel like her prayer wasn't answered or that I was the wrong person to write this for her.  I can write poetry.  How many poems have I written in my life?  How many?  I have been writing since I was 7 years old.  I'm a writer, aren't I?  I mean, I've written about house plants and snails and feuding couples and babies and anything made to order for whoever needs something.  I can pull them out of my hat...at least I thought I could.

I think I have too much pride.  I need humility.  I may be able to consider myself a writer, but that is only because that is how I choose to express myself where I aren't just trying to turn my weakness into strength.  That's reserved for speaking.  Crap.  I know I can do this.  I know...

Day 270

Perhaps this is turning into some sort of a gratitude journal.  Certainly my writing is documented in some sort of a minor role.  I met some friends in little C's ballet class.  You know the waiting room we all sit in and make small talk, my least favorite thing.  And dance moms?  Forget about it.  Last year I would move mountains to sit in my car or run errands, anything to avoid at all costs.

This year, I parked my butt in the soft chairs and I adapted.  And you know what?  I began to look forward to dance.  And I was going beyond small talk and becoming friends with these other moms.  I have missed these dance friends these past few weeks as I haven't been taking little C to dance.  I'm a little jealous my mom is with them instead.  Yesterday, they gave my mom a giant present to give to me.  The card was clever.  It said, "Stay warm.  Stay rested.  Stay clean.  Stay cute."  They bought me a jacket, two memory foam pillows (admittedly nicer than the ikea cheapos I use) soap, and a bag of cuties.  Seriously, a jacket!  I don't even wear jackets, but I will wear this one.  They bought me a jacket...  And those pillows.  Here I am making felt ornaments to pass out for Christmas!!!!  I'm a bit overwhelmed.

Dance friends.  Who knew?  I'm glad they love me and vice versa cuz if little C has her way she's going to dance all through high school with these "sisters" as she calls her little friends in her class.

And I can sit in the waiting room with some pretty cool moms.

Day 269

I have all of these words jumbled in my heart and try as I might, I can not organize them into words on my lips.  I wonder if I will have more luck here?

Yesterday was rough.  The anxiety that is creeping through the cracks and crevices as my TSH and T4 numbers continue to fluctuate is...tough.  I am not myself right now.  My perception of the world is off and I am vulnerable to the elements for lack of a better word.  Last night C took charge since T is out of town again.  He read to little C and got her ready for bed, prayed with her, and checked in on me.  It's not easy for me to write this as my worth as a mommy is severely in question within my own heart in my weakest moments.  I am raw with my self worth in so many ways as I fight through my insecurities at this time when I cannot do all I feel should be done.

Today I could not get out of bed.  The phone rang.  The beeps went off with texts and still I lay.  I was determined to rest until the headache went away, until the dizziness cleared, until I could breathe in and out and I prayed.  C has his school geography bee tomorrow.  His dad is out of town and his mother is afraid that going to the gym to watch him will put her on the road to a panic attack.  What kind of a mother would miss her son in his shining moment, would send her own mother as an ambassador for the family to cheer him on?  These were my thoughts today as I prayed.

One of the texts I got was from K.  She told me to call her asap.  She was in the temple this morning praying for an idea for her family for Christmas.  She said the answer was clear and it was this:  She commissioned me to write a poem; a family creed if you will.  Inspired by Pres. Eyering's Christmas devotional talk, she will include this poem in each of the treasure boxes she is giving to members of her family.  She has emailed me each of their attributes to include and the fundamentals she wants included, but she said she leaves it to my own inspiration to write.   She asked if I had the time.  HAHA.

I am overwhelmed by this tender mercy.  This is one of those families that I put on a pedestal.  One of those writing assignments I will pray my way through, one of those times where the Lord is so mindful of my needs and abilities even when I feel like I am at one of my weakest points.  She (K) believes in me.  HE believes in me and HE wanted me to know that today, this very day where I was beginning to forget, where I know my heart was crying out to Him, begging Him to feel useful, to feel needed, to feel as if I could somehow make a difference when I feel like this weakling.

I don't know the process I will go through to write this very important piece.  Will it come to me all at once, or section by section?  Will I struggle or will it seem easy?  Regardless, one thing is clear.  The Lord believes in my ability to write something beautiful, to make something beautiful out of this life and I need to remember that.  I am a good person.  I am a good mother.  My weakness does not make me bad or less.  I tell you, I wish I didn't have to do this.  I wish I could do all the things I want to do.  I wish I was this pillar of strength.  I don't know why this is still happening, but actually I think I do.  I think I am learning to let go more of my pride, to do all things in wisdom and order, to learn empathy because I don't think I quite mastered that before.  The lessons I've learned I know are crucial to myself and perhaps even to my little family.  I have to remember that and when I am tempted to begin to feel like throwing a pity party to remember all these times where He reaches out and just hugs me.

That is why I write...to remember.
    

Day 268

My nails are a shiny glittery red.  My hair has been combed out by a special detangler comb and spray.

What is it about feeling girly that makes the day just a little brighter?

As of yesterday I was going to wake up today and take a pair of scissors and cut off my hair from the base of my skull.

For weeks since my thyroid has dropped down off the charts, the one side effect I haven’t talked about is what it’s done to my hair.  I’m ashamed and so I wear it in a bun and generally see how long I can get away with it.  It is a rat’s nest.  Not just tangled, but severely tangled.  It can be brushed within an inch of its life the night before and the next day, nothing with release it from follicle jaws of hell.

I’ve broken combs, and T has tried his hardest to brush it for me because I just haven’t been able to do it.  When we do get a brush through it, I lose clumps of hair in my hand with the curls still attached.  I know I could have asked anybody and they would have said of course they would brush it for me and then I would have release it from its bun and I know they would have gasped…at least inside.  So I couldn’t admit that my hair, as Amy said to Jo, my “one beauty” was now this deal breaker.

This week though, T is gone and I was done.  I finally broke down yesterday and confided to M my problem.  And it feels so narcissistic to admit this as if hair should be that big of a deal.   I’m holding on through STILL being down and exhausted, dizzy, unfocused, and the rest of the symptoms that has stopped me in my tracks again.  But this issue of hair was an attack on my womanhood and it’s like that one little thing was pulling me over the edge.  And with T gone, there was no one to talk me down off the ledge of just getting rid of most of it for good.

Today M showed up with a special comb she had asked the experts about and a detangler spray and some red glittery nail polish…and I can’t even…

This is one of those things that on the blackest of black days I want to remember.  I’m not an easy person.  And while generally easier for me on paper, in person it’s hard for me to confide things; my walls tend to be a few miles thick, but I need to document that there are angels among us.

I’m surrounded by them.  I don’t know how long I will still be resting or feeling poorly or what the next step is, but I can tell you this.  Since the day I was born, yes I came out swinging, came out fighting, but from my earliest girlhood, the Lord saw fit to send me the best and brightest with which to make the journey joyful.

And to those of you reading this I want to thank each of you for being among those angels in my life.  I couldn’t do it without you.  Your friendship means the world to me.

I love you.

Day 267

Got through the entire novel of Q.  Still need a title.  Now that I've gone through it, I know the changes I need to make.  A was right.  Good beginning.  Good ending.  I just need to flesh out the middle.  Dialogue instead of page upon page of exposition.  I hate dialogue.  This is good practice for me.  Reading 'Bird By Bird' again.  I love that Ann Lamont.  She calls God a woman and I'm pretty sure she did too much acid as a young girl, but she is frank, funny and someone I would like to spend at least an afternoon with.
So that would make her book my favorite on writing along with good ole Stephen Kings.  Who would have guessed?

1671 words so far for nanowrimo.  Now off to the real rewrite.

Day 266

Doing NaNoWriMo again.  I can't believe its been two years since I finished writing the novel.  Now I'm using this November to edit it and flesh it out.  I have so much work to do.  How has it taken me so long to pull it out again?  It's good for me.  It kicks my butt.  That's what I need.

I only did like 700 words because editing isn't as freeing as raw words.  I have no idea if I will even get to the 50,000 goal this time.  I was talking to K tonight and we talked about her tennis.  She plays in tournaments, practices three times a week.  It's her thing and she's winning plaques and taking it seriously.  It felt nice when she asked what was going on in my life to say I had picked up my novel again.  Because truthfully it felt like the only thing I could tell her about ME.  Not about T or the kids or my health or my calling or duties or anything, but about ME.  Tennis is her thing and writing is mine.

I've been struggling with how I feel about myself lately.  I have felt left out.  It's actually a crazy feeling.  I'm not left out, but the feelings have been so real.  Thank you C for calling me in a perfect moment and just putting it all in perspective for me.

I know that sounds so weird.  I'm really involved, much to my detriment almost and it's that 'lonely in a crowd' feeling.  There's Firewoman, she knows everyone, knows what's happening here and there and everywhere, but it's slippery.  Weird.  There's something important I need to learn here, but it's late and I've been writing the evening away.