Day 280

I've got to catch something, before it buzzes off to oblivion.  I was doing the dishes and pondering on life.  The choices, the infinite choices, my inability to change anyone's mind.  Letting go of all control, except my own choices. 

I thought about selling our home after almost 9 years, about suddenly living in close proximity with the two people who gave me life.  I thought of broken relationships, about the brother I adore, and the sister in law, who I consider a sister.  And through the annuls of time, who I will always consider one. 

I thought about writing two skits in as many days, about getting a bag of apples for my trouble and how much that delights me.  I thought about writing to my sister in law, and why I write and somewhere deep inside, I know getting paid would be fabulous, but I knew that that's not why I do it.  I think people are impressed by novelists, by professional paid writers, but I think about what's given me the most joy in my writerly life and it's this:

Writing letters to my children and family.  Writing poems to my husband.  Writing to my friends so they know how I feel about them, not letting moments slip by, not letting the best form of expression I have go by the wayside especially when it pertains to life, love and relationships.  What good does a novel do me, if I don't write of the things of here, of now, of the people in front of my face, of the people I walk through life with.

This realization gave me a freedom.  Such a simple concept but a true one.  I have been writing in journals, letters, snippets here and there for one person here or there for as long as I can remember.  I think deep in my heart, I hoped my writing would impact a lot of people and now I realize that my writing only has to impact just one person at a time.  It can be that personal, it can be that unique.  What will matter more that on my epitaph I wrote the great American novel or that I wrote a note to a friend and shared my love, that my gift if you will, was written in my heart.

This won't stop me from writing and trying and querying and still trying to make a wave as opposed to what I used to consider just a ripple.  But the ripples add up and before you know it, there's an ocean that's moving and breathing and reaches and grows making its impact felt.  I will work for apples, but the apples don't matter.  A little girl running for SBO, matters, a sister in law who may or may not be in my life anymore, but who needs to hear that she's worth it and divine, matters.  A woman in the ward who is lonely and thinks no one sees her anymore, matters.  My family matters, my friends matter.  And you know what, I matter.  And if I don't write because of that, my writing is poorer for it. 

Day 278

Hey there.

I'm here.  I'm working hard.  My life this summer is wrapped around the two C's.  Life skills galore.  Their camps and activities.  Each day brings with it some aha moment like when I learn about patience from putting cream on my heels or good, better, best moment watching my son help a blind man up out of a chair, how my laments on not having a good camera/video camera is eased by the caricatures of my family by a dear friend.

T is rocking it at work.  Now is the HR Director over HR, Travel, Compliance, and Front Desk/Reception.  I've never in the 18 yrs I've known him ever seen him this happy at a job.  This is truly his dream job.  I get choked up when I think about it a lot.  There is no one who deserves it more. 

I hope that C looks back and remembers this summer.  He has done some impressive things for scouts.  He just earned his star badge.  He's currently on a 6 day scout camp and is senior patrol leader.  He gave all the boys their "chores" for camp and since there's an odd # of boys, one of them had to have latrine duty twice.  I glanced at the sheet after C had left and there was his own name signed up twice.  Good leader.  Never ask anyone to do something you're not willing to do and more.  6 summers until he graduates.  6 chunks of time where he's with me, left.  I have him work hard and I allow him to play hard when he finishes.

I am teaching him elocution, life skills, how to be more self reliant.  His dad is working him hard in the yard spending time teaching him how to work.  They are fishing together and C takes his buddies to the lake early mornings sometimes hrs before I get up to teach them how to fish.  They catch a few too.  I've been really trusting him in his activities.  This neighborhood is amazing to be a kid in.  It almost reminds me of some of my own growing up.  The lazy summer evening bike rides, the night games of capture the flag, getting together a bunch of change and heading to 7-11 or to get a pizza.     He's stretching his wings, making more choices (which is really really hard for me, but it has paid off in spades)   We are trying to provide opportunities for him to succeed, and not set him up to fail.  He and T go shooting and he will be getting his hunter's safety so the two of them can go hunting this fall.  I've given a lot of the reigns to T to teach this kid how to be a man.  I can't do that.  I can love and nurture and instruct, but this is T's arena and I love seeing their relationship.

Little C.  Miss social.  Almost all of her friends are older.  I try to find happy mediums for this phenoma.  It's been hard.  Drama in girl world.  Sometimes I get involved, sometimes I bite my tongue.  I remind her to not have a best friend.  That God is her best friend.  Her family are her best friends.  She can have a bunch of friends, but none of this getting jerked around, one day friends, one day not.  We talk about her being a "free agent" not having to get caught up in all of that.  I know that's just my own story coming out.  I've been hurt before so I just chose that for my own philosophy.    In actuality, I love all of her friends.  I feel so blessed.  I love all of both my kids' friends.  She spends time putting on shows, writing invites for all the neighbors, started a band with a couple of pals called "CCM Beat"  They do covers of Taylor Swift songs-she dreams of playing guitar and wants to be a singer.  She's funny.  She has a gigantic temper in which she threatens to run away and shares her disdain of us very loudly, more often than I'm comfortable with.  She's braver than I was at her age.  She has a good relationship with her dad, which I never had, so I wonder what that will mean for her.   More self confidence surely.  She also isn't moving around every other year. 

I often wonder what just those two changes in my life would have meant for me?  Oh well.  It doesn't matter, does it?  I am who I am because of those things and I wouldn't change who I am or where my life is and my trials have gotten me here, so let's just go with it. 

Day 277

I can't tell you how many times I've tried to write a post, but couldn't because somehow my son was made the blog administrator because of his email through school...long complicated story.  Tonight I tried again and lo and behold, it let me sign in!  I hope it continues to work because I have missed this...a great great deal.

I don't even know where to begin so I will just ramble a bit, I suppose.  T loves his job, and is happy there.  It's a situation that is ideal for him and is a major blessing to our family.  I have the energy I need to do the things I need to.  I will leave it at that for now.  I have started Pilates again.  First time last week. 

I finished editing 10 chapters of my novel.  My friend N just self published hers and is now going to a big signing for it in Las Vegas.  After talking to her about it, I realized I just need to finish this thing.  Me not writing is a painful endeavor.  Tonight I will edit more.  My goal is to have the whole thing edited by the time my writing group meets again to have them go over it.   C has offered to help me along the way so I don't get discouraged.  I was so discouraged last time. 

I was so excited to edit that I got up out of bed last night at midnight and worked on it.  That hasn't happened in...ever.

Good night for now.

Day 275

Well.

How does one face these cold grey days?  It's interesting that it's not just a literal thing for me.  Though the literalness of the weather dampens things considerably some days.  We are surviving.  The stake came to visit our family and the lesson they gave to us was that when the scriptures promise us that the saints will 'prosper in the land' it does not necessarily mean monetarily.  That always confused me, honestly it did.  I didn't understand how if we were keeping the commandments, cleaving to our covenants, serving to the best of our abilities, how we seemed to consistently struggle with this one.

We were reminded that this does NOT necessarily mean financial, though of course it can.  It can also be blessing of a spiritual nature.  I needed this distinction and I can respect and freely recognize it. 

I was asked today by a loving bishop where I would like to serve.  This has never happened to me before.  Obviously, a few years back I was told I would be in YWs.  When that didn't materialize almost two years ago, I was surprised, but not disheartened as this has been a great time of growth and understanding.  Apparently, I have been requested there...A LOT.  He wanted to give me the opportunity to choose now or later.  Personally, it does not matter.  The Lord is in charge.  I told him I will stay put.  My time will come.  I need to finish this course.  Besides I worry that my energy level will not be enough to keep up with those girls right now. 

There have been days where I do not understand and where I am jealous.  Jealous of Alma, jealous of early saints, jealous of anyone with energy.  I am not content with resting.  I don't know why.  And yet it is what I do.  I rest.  I'm a rester.  A 15-18 hr a day rester these past weeks.  It would be one thing if the rest was making a marked difference, but I can't say that is what's happening.  I had two days this week where I pushed through, but it is a fine line I walk because when the energy is gone, it is gone in a big way.

Without a job, the insurance is gone.  I am not at liberty to get $400 worth of blood work each week.  I am not at liberty to see a dr. I'm not sure was the best dr. afterall for my needs or else find yet another one.  I feel guilty for not finding part time work during this time, but I know very clearly that this is not the time.  So I wait.  And I try to learn.  I have learned much.  Really I have even and especially in ways I can't quantify.  I'm not sure even now I could coherently write about what I'm learning because I'm still in the midst of it and hindsight seems to be the best I can do lately.

Endure is a lovely word.  As has been written ad nauseum by myself, I have and do find beauty in the pain, but now I am endeavoring to find a gorgeous patience and an exquisite faith.  Patience was always a word I loathed to pray for and didn't want to speak of much, but I was devoid of it.  I'm trying to befriend it, invite it to my inner circle quite frankly because it's hanging around the outskirts and I might as well admit its there and introduce it around.

So that's it.  My goal for 2013 is to get well.  T's goal is to get a job.  In those simplest of terms, things don't seem so bad.  In fact, they are things that will in fact come to fruition.  I know that as much as I know that I will draw breath tomorrow.  I just need to endure now and find the joy even when the sky is so gray and keep praying for the sun.  It will be here before I know it.

Day 274

Right now I am eating dip by itself, minus the object one would usually immerse into a dip, unless one counts a finger.  For lunch I ate hummus...with a spoon, straight up from the package.  As a predinner snack I read w another spoon and the jar of peanut butter beside me.  What's wrong?  Am I menstruel, eating away my fears in various sauces that distress the waste line?  I saw this movie once with Meg Ryan, scratch that, I watched this scene of this movie once with Meg Ryan, since I kinda loathe her right now, she's my new Gyneth Paltrow, who've I've actually buried the hatchet with.  Anyway, Meg's character was eating a stick of butter right off the cube.  I could do that, I think.

I'm not going to share why I've been indulging in such unhealthy eating habits today.  It involves getting my feelings hurt last night and me knowing I need to have a conversation with someone who may not have meant it, and a pattern of me sweeping everything under the rug to belong, and the fault is probably also mine for just not standing up for myself (can you believe I would not be able to stand up for myself?) but I haven't in this case and now I'm done with that being my reality.  It's no one in my family or even anyone who reads this blog, but I still will stay rather vague.

Last night 20 boys were in my parents' house for C's 12th birthday party.  I had people question my sanity when I asked C who he wanted to have come and he rattled off all the boys names like a drop in the bucket and I wrote them all down and he and I proceeded to contact each one by one.

I think my mental health was also put on trial when I decided that the party should be 4 hrs long so there was time for all the activities and no one felt rushed.  My reasoning was quite simple:  I wanted C to feel like a million bucks.  I knew that as he embarks on these teenage years, there's going to be a significant time when he doesn't feel like a million bucks.  One of C's gifts lies in his ability to be a mediator and facilitator of different groups of people.  He doesn't like it when people haven't been introduced or when someone feels left out.  I completely understand how he feels.

I worried about the different groups of boys, half from school, half from the neighborhood.  Would they mesh?  Would all the boys get along?  They ranged in age from a couple of 9 yr olds all the way to a 14 yr old.  Something amazing happened.  I will liken this to the Scooby Doo sandwich that I used to indulge in in college, when I weighed a buck, ten.  You put everything you like on two pieces of bread from skittles, to captain crunch, to turkey, to tomatoes and you pile them high and bite into this sandwich and somehow as your mouth gets used to all the flavors, it works. 

The same principle happened here.  We had LDS boys, less active boys, boys of other faiths, some who wanted to tear around outside, some who smartly wanted to stay warm and play ping pong and shoot pool, some who cheered at a movie, some who just wanted to talk and keep shooting balls into the pocket of a pool table.  I constantly surveyed the scenes before my eyes.  These boys were figuring it out.  No one stood alone.  Everyone was hanging out together, there was laughter, like the crazy cool sound of 12 year old boy laughter.  They were this scooby doo sandwich that was just so tasty.

It turned out to be this experience that I will always treasure.  My son has been thanking me since it happened and you know what?  Every boy that came to the party said thank you and they were all just as polite as they could be and except for a cat getting thrown into a hot tub, I think it all went rather well...and you know what?  It was kinda funny that a cat got thrown into the hot tub, but I will never admit it to the boys...probably.

So I guess what I'm saying is that while I want to eat a stick of butter because someone called my mothering skills into question, I will never ever apologize for wanting my son to have this moment.  This one time where he turns 12, gets the priesthood, about to start junior high, passes the sacrament, joins the Young Mens program, all the milestones that comes with the age, and I want him to remember that his parents love him a whole heck of a lot.  And his friends do to.  We started the party with a prayer, believe it or not.  Every head in that room was bowed.  He has a pretty spectacular group of friends, one of whom was just baptized into the church because a group of these boys, my son as one of the ringleaders, made sure he felt included.   Happy Birthday, my precious C. 

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. 

Day 265

Welcome to my writing blog where the majority of my writing details the status of my thyroid.  Fascinating stuff here.  Therefore, I won't bore with the details since its going to take a while to hash it all out.

Murder mystery party was huge success.  I haven't had that much fun in I don't remember how long.  Everyone got SO into it, well it was my dream come true.  One of our friends had business cards printed out with his character, one friend rented a dress, nothing was off limits, no one held back.  An every Halloween tradition?  Maybe it will have to be.  I still have all the Mardi Gras decorations up.  Why take all the chintz down?  Love that house is clean after a get together feeling.  I have enough rice to feed a small country since at the last minute I panicked over my lack of cajun culinary skills and sent T out for pizza.

This would be about the time that a little voice in my head would say "PACE YOURSELF" and I wouldn't listen and go ahead and plan that girls' weekend away that I said I would plan, but then said I wouldn't because all I wanted to do was sleep.  Now it's like I'm trying to cram all of the fun I possibly can into the window before I grow tired again.  I don't know how to stop.  My name is Firewoman and I have a problem.  NO.  I don't have to be involved in every little thing to feel like I belong.  Things can and will go on without me being there or planning them or both.  I can remain calm.  I can remain here ------ instead of _____ or ''''''''''''''''''''

So, I think I am giving up on the girls' weekend.  That can happen in 2013.  I can take a deep breath and realize that I'm not at the optimal point I need to be health wise though wouldn't this be fun if this was naturally me????  I wish it was.  That's the sad part.  I want this ball of energy to really be who I am and to cut that tired slug part of me right out and even the person somewhere in between that feels eh and oh I don't know...is this the creative brain?  If I was a rock star or Picasso would I be crazy or burn out on drugs to keep up the creative process or the high of life?  Luckily I don't have to worry about any of that since I'm not them, but I would like to do something big and meaningful and leave my mark.

Narcissism thy name is moi.  TMI: fourth "period" in two months time.  See the vital role the thyroid plays in life?  These ramblings are coming from a place that could be on the other side of the world in two days time.  I end where I began. 

Day 264

I read this quote I think by Monson in the talk I gave a couple of weeks ago about the Lord shaping the back on which he places a burden on.  I relate to that so well given that I have gone from hunched over to relatively straight to feeling hunched again recently by the onslaught of whatever my thyroid is secreting into my system.  Sorry for the mental picture there.

I don't know why it's getting so much worse.  I talked to my sister who is in remission from this and she said hers never got this bad.  T thinks it's just my body is different having come from a whole lot of varied medical adventures along the way and I think it's me being compelled to be humble.  He gets mad at me when I say it and I don't look at it exactly in those strong of terms so it sounds friendlier to allude to the bending the back quote.

If you look to a few posts ago I felt like we were in a time where our little family was living after the manner of happiness and the things I was doing with them and for them were so vital and now I sleepwalk through my days.  A huge theme of the RS conference was to AWAKE as women and today in 2nd Nephi I was reading the part where Lehi keeps telling his sons to AWAKE and shake off their sins and all I want to do is sleep.  Is that a theme for being alert and watchful for me perhaps when I get better and be awake then and I'm just experiencing an opposition in all things so that when I can be AWAKE I will embrace that by remembering this again? 

I'm rambling again.  I'm coming from a very tired place.  T says I need to go up and eat since my appetite is gone.  He helps me remember, but my stomach just recoils at the thought.  So now I will focus on something I wish I had taken a picture of today.  At the Draper temple (T was so mad at me for going today!)  And it probably was a mistake.  I'm paying for it.  I really wanted to be at C's last soccer game and shamefully I couldn't even get up into a seated position because I wore myself out.  But...because of 10/11/12 today there were 15 weddings and one of them had navy blue fifties style bridesmaids dresses with burnt orange sashes and they were holding burnt orange Japanese style parasols like they have in fruity drinks.  You know the ones I mean?  IN.LOVE.  Makes me want to get married all over again or at least be asked to be a bridesmaid for that bride.   If I had a "happy place" where everything was perfect, that is what everyone would be wearing for at least one day.  Except for T...he would look ridiculous with a parasol.

Good night.

Day 263

I always thought I meandered my way through Girl World pretty well.  I don't even mean my daughter's little friend world, I mean my own.  Face it, we're all still girls at heart, thus my coinage of the phrase still applies.

After much thought on the matter, I realize I gave myself too much credit.  I really don't do all that well.  Texting kills me.  I love it and I hate it.  I hate it when you have no idea what the other person means and if you're me then you have to call and figure it out rather than waste time trying to decipher the code.  Then there's the whole thing of when do you end it?  I like to end on a high note so if what i'm saying seems superfluous of blase I just cut it off at the knees.  Of course, I like to do that in real life too.  That's why small talk at some social function is akin to dental work for me.  If I don't have something fantastical to contribute, I'm a clam.  I always go to the one I feel is sitting alone because it's painful to watch and hey, I've been there.  Then I worry that others think I'm ignoring them because I'm just focused on the one and I also feel the need to greet and say farewell to everyone's comings and goings which I worry makes the one I'm talking to feel like I'm only half listening which I would be listening well if it was only the two of us to begin with, which it should be and I shouldn't have even come to the shindig.  I just want everyone to feel needed and appreciated, but one at a time is so much more doable.  I think I used to have more skill at all this, but age really takes it out of you or else gives you the wisdom to realize how ridiculous this entire soliloquy you are writing actually is!!!!!!!  Hey Firewoman, this stuff is blase, cut it out.

In other fantastical news, I found a new Endo to see.  K, you really came through for me, THANK YOU.  Another daughter's friend recommended the same one today, so I picked up the phone.  She doesn't have any openings until December 9th.  Now some of you may remember that when I first called my PT she didn't have any openings either, but that very day someone had cancelled and I was able to see her three weeks in a row which would cement her and my relationship and get me on her list indefinitely.  Today when I called, the receptionist said, "I don't ever do this because her wait list is so extensive, but I just feel like I'm supposed to..."  Someone had just called and canceled and she got me in THIS monday!!  Are you freakin' kidding me?  She is so hard to get into!  Endo's in general are relatively hard to get into.  I tell you what, I am being looked out for. 

I told T tonight that his little family is being watched out for.  We fall, but we are being cushioned big time.  My tire blows up with 4 little ones inside the car and instead of being at the school or Bangeter Highway, it's two blocks from the carpool's house.  And my parents happen to come home from their vacation early and my brother happens to be there too and get the donut on the car.  And C,bless her heart, is driving my boy here and there and everywhere (thankyou) and though the car sounds like all the other tires are about to go as well, I find that I don't have anywhere I have to be these couple of days until T gets back.  What the?   I tell you I live just a little life, but He is so mindful of this little life that would probably be a breeze for anyone else, but for me well I don't make it look all that easy, but boy howdy, HE does!!!

Day 262

Sent Curly off to two people who asked for it.  That inspired me to pull out Q and I spent about an hour on that fleshing out characters.

My thyroid symptoms are worsening.  The small goiter on my neck is about 3times the size it was Friday and I am having a hard time swallowing and when I talk it's like there's gravel in my neck.  The aching has worsened and the headaches have started though that may be from the 3 periods I've had back to back these last weeks.

I called my Endo.  He is closing his practice and now I need to find a new doc on my crappy insurance and T doesn't start his new job until December with hope of good ins??  Oh, who am I kidding?  I can't get my hopes up.  

Anyway, he can't see me until the end of the month anyway as a last hurrah.  So, if anyone reads this and has heard of a good Endo, please let me know.  The joints in my hands and fingers have started freezing up too, but I'm not sure if that is related to this or some residual TOS thing.

Don't worry, I'm not depressed or anything.  Honestly, I'm not happy about it though.  HAHA-I just keep thinking I don't have time for this.  T goes out of town this Wed-Tuesday and so its not like I can slow down anyway.  He is taking tomorrow off so I can rest before he's gone.  Those of you who know how much I've leaned on my mom on times like this and how healthy it is that I no longer do that/cut a few ties there, will be glad to know I have to figure this out on my own since she and my dad are traveling for a month.  Yes, its good for me. 

No, I'm not happy about a goiter which is growing larger on my neck every day.  But that's a pride thing.  Sorry to complain, but I guess if there's anyplace I can vent just a little this would be it.

Day 261

I really need to exercise and in order to do that I would generally turn on Project Runway to watch as I move.  However, due to the amazing way in which I now feel, I am loathe to turn anything on, but Pandora tuned to the MoTab station.

The talk I gave today wrote itself yesterday morning.  Well, I should really say that the Lord put the words in my mind and my pen flew across the page almost faster than I could control it.  I wrote out every word.  I don't ever do that.  An outline is sufficient and then He will provide the rest.  In this case, He provided every word, every transition, and let me tell you, I felt like Handel writing the Messiah.  I don't mean to be uber dramatic here, but I will never forget what He did for me today.  I felt peace.  I was so calm.  L and I were both speakers and our talks were perfect companion pieces.  I taught the doctrine and she taught us how to implement it.  We never talked about it once.  In fact, up until right before the meeting, she had no idea that I was the other speaker.  We both just followed the promptings we received and everyone was astonished at how we on the "same page" without any redundancy or prior orchestration.

We both taught some doctrine that perhaps some may have felt was hard to hear.  I felt such love for the brothers and sisters out in the congregation that it didn't seem that way to me.  I felt the love the Lord feels for each of them so very strongly that while the message would generally have felt like a chastisement, it instead just felt so tender to my heart.

When the spirit is that strong, I see what the scriptures mean about seeing with our spiritual eyes.  We all felt it.  L and I were just pinching each other, we couldn't believe it.  I had to share this so I myself never forget it.  Don't be afraid of speaking, of teaching, of serving in ANY capacity because if you are willing and exercise your faith, the Lord will NEVER forsake you and he will qualify you in all labor He asks you to perform in His name.

Of this I testify...

Day 260

Summer is winding down.  Fast are the days of sitting out in the warm evenings talking to friends as the children run around barefoot.  I caught a last few hours of the chilly night talking to S as our children attempted to run barefoot, freezing but not being willing to go in yet to face dinner.


I was offered another job.  It will be good to know that when I'm ready and my family is ready for me to be gone a few hours a day, I just may be employable.  Of course, I said no.  Things are way too crazy for that right now.  One month down of school????

I'm speaking in Sacrament meeting on Sunday.  When the member of the bishopric asked me he was so concerned.  I got concerned too.  "What's wrong?  Who needs my help?"  He looked at me strangely.  "Oh, I was just going to ask you to speak Sunday."  Oh, is that all.  I was so worried something bad happened to someone in the ward, that I was relieved.  Sure thing.  I keep forgetting though.  I hope I remember long enough to ponder it this week.  The best times seem to be as I'm yet again sitting in my car for carpool. 

I've decided I'm done picking my kids up in Draper this year.  My friend I lives 5 or 6 min from the school and next year when little C is out of Kindergarten, I will drop her kids off in the morning and have her pick mine up from the school and then just pick mine up from her house.  That is how much I hate it.  I feel like it's the carpool gestapo there and I'm in third grade again getting in trouble if my kids aren't out fast enough and of course if I feel like I'm getting in trouble, my rebellious streak comes out and then I get fiery and have to come home and lie down with a book and a bag of chips...ya, its been that sort of a day.

I had to grade grammar papers in C's class today.  I didn't know the right answers.  If I had to do the work he has to do, I would cry every day that I didn't want to go to school.  They diagram sentences like maniacs.  I mean they have it down to a science and do it scarily fast.  I gave up pretty quickly.  I'm much more comfortable making Native American headbands for little C's class anyway.


When I came down here to write, I felt like I had all these profound things to spout and now I find I can't get anything to come out.  I wanted to write how these were the days I feel like Nephi was talking about when he talked about "living after the manner of happiness" because I know no matter how busy and bustling things are, I'm going to look at this time in the life of my family with joy.  I can sense the importance of this year.  Every day I see that what I am doing, dropping oil into my own lamp, making sure I teach my kids so they know where to get and add to their own lamps is vital. 

Day 259

 final part from previous posts...

I know the grammar is heinous and the dangling participles are something from another world, but I'm pretty much just putting this out here to see if i can flesh things out better-bear with me...

I began to feel as if I had been pressured into this whole marriage thing, but I felt like I had no choices.  I would never go back to my parents and I felt if I got divorced I would be failing.  I already felt like I wasn’t good at the whole being a member thing.  I didn’t go visiting teaching and the temple stressed me out.  Sometimes when I was first going to the temple I would come home and cry so no one could see me because I felt so stupid for not “getting” it and not enjoying it.  I bet that’s a revelation, isn’t it?  Considering how its my air now.  Yes, I didn’t take to it immediately or even for awhile.

And then we had C.  And we were on Medicaid at the time.  And T didn’t have a job and I had post partum even though I didn’t recognize it and didn’t get help.  The job losses chipped at T until he was a bloody mess and I chipped away just as hard.  There were two camps of thought at that time:  We were cursed and sinful because this happened or else we were translated and like Job.  Both camps of thought made sure we understood this and we lost friends over it.  The bishop came to our house and told us he felt prompted that we should sell our house and belongings and move into my parents’ basement.  The rug was pulled out from under us, but it had been moving for a long time anyway and we numbly moved forward.  This was the same time C felt off of the counter and was miraculously healed and I fell down the flight of stairs and was hurt by the man who hurt me.  As I’ve already gone into that whole story on my other blog and talked about my TOS ad nausium, I will refrain from sharing that again.

What does it do to a marriage?  Where were those two kids who had life by the tail or at least one half of them did.  What does this do to love especially if one half is still struggling with wondering if she does love or if she’s just used to or just consigned to this fate?  There are so many little details here it would take several pages to share and we all know the details are what are hard.  There’s what happened to our cat, our “baby” before C was born that pushed a further riff between us, there’s the fact that T thought I was crazy for saying I was in so much pain when the docs could find NOTHING and when you are in horrific pain, the line between pleasure and pain is exactly the same and that’s a can of worms that’s best left undisturbed.  The people in my ward were understanding, but they didn’t want to be our friends because we weren’t legitimately there and did I mention the money that ward oozes with?  We were the black holes in a glittering milky way. 

T got hired as Christmas help at DB.  Lest you think I am using this platform as an exercise in humiliating or calling out T, it couldn’t be further from the truth.  This man had to swallow any and all pride he ever possessed, something I have yet to see more than a mere handful of individuals ever achieve.  He was the Christmas help along with teenagers.  He also threw boxes at Macey’s with all the pre RMs.  He also dug ditches and taught the other workers English along the way.  He did whatever it took to keep us afloat and everyone around us (this was before the recession) was the same as always.  Friend’s husbands were getting promotions and making more and more money and T with the lofty goals and high desires was eating slops in the pigs’ trough and his wife was in a chair because it hurt to exist. 

It wasn’t that we fought at this time because I didn’t have the strength to get angry anymore.  It hurt too much to have that strong of an emotion.  After working T would go to school at night to get his Masters and I would still be up because I didn’t sleep during that year and he would eat the dinner my mother made and we would watch Trading Spaces until he couldn’t keep his eyes open anymore and would go in and go to bed…alone.

I don’t know what he thought of me during this time.  He needed me to get better, obviously.  Life at this time is blurry.  I think I’ve established my conversion during the process I experienced.  T got hired full time at DB’s corporate office and worked with all the Mormon “superstars” we all experience every General Conference.  It gave us insurance which we needed to send me to Denver and the paycheck we needed to get us out of my parents.  With all of these spiritual perks the job afforded him, the pay wasn’t great and he would move on.  He tried to be supportive of me with my issues and I tried to be supportive of his.  My issues drained our bank account and devastated any nest egg we could hope to have.  Want to know what living 3 months in Denver will cost you, two major surgeries and over 10 years of rehabilitation?  That’s why T and I aren’t wealthy.  I cost too damn much. 

And with him trying to be supportive of me and me supportive of him, we were pretty sloppy at it.  Why didn’t I get better faster?  Why didn’t he have a better job?  It’s a dance we did and people would say to us, wow you guys have had it pretty rough.  A friend of T’s even mentioned to me he thought we might be cursed.  He didn’t laugh when he said it.  I think T believed it himself.  We almost broke up several, many times.  But now there was C to consider and we would have never done that to him.  I was worried about what other people thought, so I always nixed the idea, but T would have never left me.  If there was discussion about it, it always started with me.

And then we had little C.  And here were these two little miracles and they were from us.  Our fire, our flaws, our futures.  I started feeling some improvement.  The anxiety from the drugs and scalpels that left scars on my eyes and nervous system after the surgeries and the anxiety we both felt that at anytime we could lose everything again were a constant we were always trying to overcome.  Things were severely tested the day I called T and told him I felt like I needed to go to a new PT and do Pilates because the honest truth was how would we ever pay for it?

T got depressed.  How could he not?  Imagine what he had been holding for so long.  Now if we ever talked about splitting up he didn’t fight it.  Sometimes I knew he imagined what it would be like not to be saddled together with only the two miracles as a blessed buffer between us.  I remember one fight where words were hurled like vomit and I had a clear impression of “be careful.”  I knew we were supposed to be together because in moments of spiritual clarity it was the answer to all of life’s questions.  That this passionate, loving man was supposed to be mine and for whatever reason, I was supposed to be his.  He always knew this, but I the late bloomer had to come to see it for myself.

And the truth is, there’s no one else.  No one else who could have put up with the crap he endured in his early life, the hardships he’s experienced now as he looks forty in the face and could anyone guess what he’s overcome by looking at him?  He has a naturally sunny disposition and would drop anything to help anyone out.  He just keeps trying even at those times when no one has believed in him, and to my eternal regret, that has included me.  He just gets up and dusts himself off and keeps dreaming and striving. 

I’m still learning about love.  T knew how to love early on.  I don’t know the mind or will of the Lord, but somehow we were right there in each other’s paths.  I guess what I missed out on in quantity, I’ve found in quality.  And this road I’ve traveled, I wouldn’t change it with anyone else.  The sum of my choices and even lack of them have led me right here to this spot, with this testimony, with this truth, with this spouse, with this set of skills, with this weakness, strength and everything in between.  T and I are infinitely flawed, but we’ve overcome some tough tough things and still flirt with each other.  We fight and make up and keep chugging along.  Do I love him?  Do I trust guys now?  Do I feel beautiful and desirable and get why it all went down the way it did? 

Why yes, yes I do.

Day 258

continued from a previous post...

I didn’t want to be mean to another boy.  Punish them for feeling like their entire sex had ended up hurting and disappointing me.  He wasn’t tall and he was so different.  He talked more than anyone I had ever met and I could tell he was one of these guys who would have thrown his jacket over a puddle so I didn’t have to cross in the mud.  The short thing bothered me…so.much.  I didn’t make it easy for me to my everlasting shame.  I didn’t want to feel anything for him.  I had written off boys so I could focus on my mission.  He was so smart that I felt like I couldn’t possibly contribute anything to the conversation and when he talked news and politics and history and music and any subjects with his friends, I would just clam up.  He talked a good talk.  He wasn’t laid back.  He had a temper and when a really big tall guy bumped into me at Homecoming he chased him down and looked up to him and demanded he apologize to me.  I was disconcerted.  I would find him gazing at me and it was intense.  I hadn’t had too much attention and now here was this guy who seemed to love me enough for both of us.  I tried to break it off several times.  I wasn’t ready for all of this.  It certainly didn’t feel like it had with Alex.  I wasn’t running through a field of daisies and that’s what I thought it should be.  And why couldn’t he be taller.  I blamed his parents-just a few inches surely.  He was so good to me.  He would have blasted off and gotten the moon if I would have asked him to.  I knew he wanted me to be madly in love with him.  It seemed really difficult and he wanted it to keep moving forward until we were talking about marriage before I really understood what was happening. 

I didn’t want to hurt him.  He had such a messed up family and had already been hurt so badly.  Whereas I had not dated very much, he had dated PLENTY.  He had so much experience and I lacked it in spades.  Why did he choose me?  Why did he keep saying I was the most beautiful girl in the world?  What was wrong with him that he would think that?  He received an answer that marrying me was right and I didn’t receive any answer at all.  It came down to only one thing.  Did I want him in my life or did I want to walk away?  I didn’t know for sure, but I know I hated for him to feel sad and he felt sad at the thought of me not being there.  I wasn’t good at making choices then, let alone owning them so I felt as if I let the moments sweep me along until at last I was kneeling across from him at the alter.

Once I met T, I buried the hatchet with my father.  I got up in sacrament meeting during testimony meeting and I apologized to him and felt the anger and hatred dissipate from my heart.  Though I can never recapture that closeness to him now, I have never felt animosity for him since that day.  Now I can hug him even though its uncomfortable and find a fondness there, but I am regretful for all those many lost years because now I understand that he had no idea how to be a dad to me.   I will say this though.  I was the kid.  I have to say that because I can’t take the guilt on myself.  I can only pick up my own pieces.  I leave everyone else to pick up their own.  It’s taken me all this time to be able to say that.  My parents stones are their own to carry around, just like mine are and my kids will be.

My family took to T immediately.  He was everything we were not.  Everything.  We were lazy with our feelings, T took them seriously.  We were lazy with our words.  T talked us all under the table.  We didn’t have strong opinions, T did.  We didn’t have any lofty goals, but T sure talked about his.  I often think they would have adopted him over being stuck with me.  T was just as kind to me when no one else was around as he was with me in public.  I remember thinking that if this was just based on a righteous priesthood holder who treats me like a queen then what do I have to lose?  Eternity felt like a long time though and my youth and inexperience were like bright red welts on my heart.  There was nothing in my life that felt for sure.  I had just started going back to church and my testimony next to his was small and feeble.  So I coasted on his coattails for a lot.  And I gave a lot of my choice and power to him.  Take care of me.  I’ve never felt taken care of or safe.  This wouldn’t serve me well in the long run, but it was where I was at at the time.

I was glad to be out of the house.  I loved my family.  At least I was used to them.  If I sound as callous as I think I do, I don’t mean to.  I just detached from them at a pretty early age.  I was such a strong willed little thing and realized that I didn’t feel like anyone had my back and I just found the world I chose to live in on the outside.  I suppose this is a post for another time if all this internal exorcism is not enough.  T must have been so happy.  I was the dutiful wife.  Our age difference was so apparent and I listened to everything he said and slid back into the shadows.  I lived for him and his dreams.  Whatever he said, it was law for me.  I wouldn’t even pray aloud for our couple prayers the first few years we were married because I felt I was so lacking compared to him.

He interviewed for the CIA.  He really wanted it, but it was not to be.  He got an internship in Washington and it was the most exciting thing as we embarked across the country.  I had to grow up quickly.  I had a road map and nothing but a big smile as I drove all over looking for the two jobs that would sustain us since his stipend was so puny.  I took him to the “slug” station early mornings where essentially everyone hitched a ride to work with complete strangers and then went back to our heinous basement apt where we lived below crazy people and got ready for the first of two jobs that wouldn’t get me home until 10 pm after he had gone to sleep.  It was a hell of a way to start out, but I think we were happy there together.  I felt so capable and he was happy in Washington.  It was the stepping stone to his goals.  He got a real job, but the pay was pitiful.  A studio apt. was going for $800 back in 1996 and I would have had to keep working my two jobs indefinitely to be able to survive.  Washington DC and Virginia are no place for young marrieds starting out.

We made the decision to come “home” and looking back I wonder if we made the right decision.  Personally, I think we should have stayed.  He would have if I would have pushed it or maybe even said why not?  We wanted to start a family, but how could we have known it would take another 5 years to do that.  We were all alone there.  No family to lean on.  It was good for us though.  It was good for me to see T in an environment that he excelled in.  Now I would see the opposite and it would be bad.  I still was swallowed up in his life and came back to work while he entered the work force and slowly, slowly, slowly I began to see things were not working out well.  And the more disillusioned I got, the more resentful I got and the more my anger showed itself.  The anger had been a defense mechanism since I been a tiny child.  It was the only way I felt I could try to control my own life. 

I know he was surprised.  Where was the dutiful wifey?  Where was the sweetheart?  Who was this anxious nag who worried about money and position at work?  I felt trapped and didn’t want to just “follow” him any more, but I had given so much of my self over to him that I didn’t trust my own instincts anymore.  He drove, he did bills, he did all the hard stuff and he was chivalrous and willing to do it and I leaned on him, remember?  There was a slow burn smoldering underneath the surface with me.  I sent him out into the world like he was an extension of my self and I was too afraid to stand on my own and I felt like he and I were both failing at it.