Mood: thankful
My most hated nickname from my family is Drama Queen. I HATE that nickname more than any of the others, and my dad has an affinity for calling me Poopstain so I think that is saying quite a lot. The reason that I hate it is because, well, it's true. And I hate this about myself. I live my life in extremes, in black or white. I am forever disappointed that life is a series of confusing, convoluted, nebulous events rather than concrete absolutes
Today is one of those days where I am just so disgusted by myself and my need for things to be 100% one way or the other. I really do wish that I could change, but time and again I find myself disappointed over unclear or indirect answers.
Today Jeff, Malcolm and I headed to the oncologist for his post chemotherapy CT scan. A little over three hours after arriving at the hospital we arrived at our moment of truth. Were we facing a happy, healthy holiday season? Or another battle for Jeff's life?
I wanted so, so badly to hear that Jeff is 100% in remission and is healthy and has kicked cancer's ass. I really did want to hear that.
And, for the most part, that is what we heard. Thank God that Jeff is healthy! The oncologist declared Jeff to be in remission, but, there are still spots visible on the CT scan. They do not appear cancerous, and it is unlikely that these spots are, however the oncologist just is not sure what they are. He says that he does not believe them to be cancer. A needle biopsy is out of the question due to the position of these spots; they are located too close to blood vessels. If a biopsy is to be done it would be invasive surgery removing the mass and a chunk of lung.
So, while we got tremendous news today, is yet one more shade of gray in a world that I so wish was black and white. The poetic justice of the CT scan images is too much, really. It is the white and black that are normal. The gray masses are the unknown, the threats, the unanswered questions.
I am truly thankful that Jeff is healthy and the smile on his face once he heard the news...I haven't seen one like that in months. I cannot say how relieved I am to know that all of his heartache and physical pain from chemotherapy has resulted in his health once again. Yet, I cannot get these masses off of my mind. I know I am in for a long holiday season because I am a drama queen and I worry about everything. Cancer continues to humble me and I continue to learn and grow because of it.
Now we play a waiting game again, and on top of being dramatic I am eternally impatient. In January Jeff returns to the oncologist for another CT scan and more blood work. If the masses are gone, we are totally in the clear. If they are not, we are facing a bone marrow transplant.
Thursday, when we sit down to eat I know I will not be without worry or anxiety, because that is just who I am. But, I will be thankful that my husband is alive. I will be thankful that Malcolm has a father with many years of life and love ahead of him. And I will be thankful to bear witness that God has carried us through this.
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
Showing posts with label faith. Show all posts
2013/11/26
2013/11/07
The Sun Will Forever Keep Rising
Mood: keep rising
A few weeks ago as Jeff and I drove the hour to pick up Malcolm I was singing along in the car to Andrew McMahon and his Jack's Mannequin music. If you know me personally, you will have heard me fangirl about Andrew previously, either I forced you to listen to him, became incredulous that you didn't know who he was or spouted a million reasons why your life would be a million times better with Andrew in it.
Well, not much has changed for me since I was 18 where Andrew is concerned. I still fangirl when I go to his shows (Jeff was greatly amused this summer when we saw him) and his music is still what I listen to when I need to sort out the really big things in my life.
Something Corporate got me through college and the portions of graduate school that I made it through. And his lyrics were there when the program proved just too much for me. My faith shaken, Andrew reminded me that my life had a purpose, and it was okay to spend some time figuring it out. (By the way, I'm STILL working on that).
Something Corporate was the soundtrack to my life the summer I finally left a mentally and physically abusive relationship. Andrew's voice and melodies and words soothed the wounds that were, and some days still are, raw and hurting.
Jack's Mannequin has seen me through several horrendous bouts of depression, some of which I truly did not want to come out of on the other side. Andrew has said that it's always really heavy for him when people tell him that he saved their lives, and I can only imagine what hearing that must be like. He's said that it's those people that saved themselves and he's glad to have been there, but truly I am not positive I'd be typing this today if it were not for some of his lyrics.
Anyway, as we were driving Jeff joked that I loved Andrew McMahon more than him. Without pausing I said, "No, it's just that he's been in my life for a lot longer than you have."
And that is true. 11 years of music and inspiration later I still feel like I just discovered this man.
Tonight, I'm writing from a lonely place.
Jeff got news that he needs a fourth round of chemotherapy. While we are grateful that he'll celebrate Christmas cancer free, it's a scary time for us. His job put him (without allowing him a choice) on unpaid leave and my freelance writing doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks. Medical bills pile up, regular bills pile up...life does not stop because you get cancer. A cancer expert my dad looked up has been in touch with Jeff to say that the fourth round is unnecessary, so we face a difficult decision. Well, Jeff does at least. I'm here to support him regardless of the decision.
I've been filling my days with taking care of Jeff, Malcolm, the dogs and the day to day things that need to get done. I stay plenty busy. And I'm happy to report that I actually have been making a concerted effort in the weight loss front. It's my nights that are impossible. Jeff is asleep, too tired to sit up for a minute so that he can take his medications. Malcolm is asleep. The dogs are asleep. And I am alone with my thoughts and my fears and my insecurities. And the scariest thing of all: the fear of death. Of Jeff's. Of my husband's. Mourning my grandfather's passing. My professor's life being cut short by his battle with cancer.
I sit alone, night after night in a house filled with noise as I try to cancel out these feelings. These thoughts. The loss and sadness weighs so heavily some nights that I cannot breath without pain in my chest. I know, and 100%, that Jeff will make a full recovery and we will live long and healthy lives.
But at night, when I'm all alone, when the noise can't distract me, I wonder...what it...what if the happy ending looks completely different for Jeff and I? What if my husband dies? Cancer is a really hard thing for people close to you to handle. I am reminded of my infertility struggles. Often, when people don't know what to say, they simply say nothing. And that hurts worse than anything. When you desperately want to know you are not alone, but are far too exhausted and drained to reach out, and all you hear is radio silence. That is the worst.
These nights are lonely. And endless.
But I have Andrew. And the sun will rise and push the loneliness and fear away.
I have written this post several times. And I always end up deleting it for fear of coming across too depressed or too negative. And that is truly not my disposition. Tonight I am feeling scared, but also a little brave. I promised to blog my experience with cancer and I would be remiss if I did not admit that there are moments of the utmost weakness and terror. There are moments where I can simply not hold the tears any longer and I fall to my knees weeping. And there are moments of laughter and happiness and joy.
If you want a small taste of the range of emotions, beautifully composed, listen to "Keep Rising" by Jack's Mannequin. The lyrics follow.
*Lyrics from www.azlyrics.com
Jeff's Fundraising Page at Give Forward:
http://gfwd.at/19AoOzG
A few weeks ago as Jeff and I drove the hour to pick up Malcolm I was singing along in the car to Andrew McMahon and his Jack's Mannequin music. If you know me personally, you will have heard me fangirl about Andrew previously, either I forced you to listen to him, became incredulous that you didn't know who he was or spouted a million reasons why your life would be a million times better with Andrew in it.
Well, not much has changed for me since I was 18 where Andrew is concerned. I still fangirl when I go to his shows (Jeff was greatly amused this summer when we saw him) and his music is still what I listen to when I need to sort out the really big things in my life.
Something Corporate got me through college and the portions of graduate school that I made it through. And his lyrics were there when the program proved just too much for me. My faith shaken, Andrew reminded me that my life had a purpose, and it was okay to spend some time figuring it out. (By the way, I'm STILL working on that).
Something Corporate was the soundtrack to my life the summer I finally left a mentally and physically abusive relationship. Andrew's voice and melodies and words soothed the wounds that were, and some days still are, raw and hurting.
Jack's Mannequin has seen me through several horrendous bouts of depression, some of which I truly did not want to come out of on the other side. Andrew has said that it's always really heavy for him when people tell him that he saved their lives, and I can only imagine what hearing that must be like. He's said that it's those people that saved themselves and he's glad to have been there, but truly I am not positive I'd be typing this today if it were not for some of his lyrics.
Anyway, as we were driving Jeff joked that I loved Andrew McMahon more than him. Without pausing I said, "No, it's just that he's been in my life for a lot longer than you have."
And that is true. 11 years of music and inspiration later I still feel like I just discovered this man.
Tonight, I'm writing from a lonely place.
Jeff got news that he needs a fourth round of chemotherapy. While we are grateful that he'll celebrate Christmas cancer free, it's a scary time for us. His job put him (without allowing him a choice) on unpaid leave and my freelance writing doesn't exactly bring in the big bucks. Medical bills pile up, regular bills pile up...life does not stop because you get cancer. A cancer expert my dad looked up has been in touch with Jeff to say that the fourth round is unnecessary, so we face a difficult decision. Well, Jeff does at least. I'm here to support him regardless of the decision.
I've been filling my days with taking care of Jeff, Malcolm, the dogs and the day to day things that need to get done. I stay plenty busy. And I'm happy to report that I actually have been making a concerted effort in the weight loss front. It's my nights that are impossible. Jeff is asleep, too tired to sit up for a minute so that he can take his medications. Malcolm is asleep. The dogs are asleep. And I am alone with my thoughts and my fears and my insecurities. And the scariest thing of all: the fear of death. Of Jeff's. Of my husband's. Mourning my grandfather's passing. My professor's life being cut short by his battle with cancer.
I sit alone, night after night in a house filled with noise as I try to cancel out these feelings. These thoughts. The loss and sadness weighs so heavily some nights that I cannot breath without pain in my chest. I know, and 100%, that Jeff will make a full recovery and we will live long and healthy lives.
But at night, when I'm all alone, when the noise can't distract me, I wonder...what it...what if the happy ending looks completely different for Jeff and I? What if my husband dies? Cancer is a really hard thing for people close to you to handle. I am reminded of my infertility struggles. Often, when people don't know what to say, they simply say nothing. And that hurts worse than anything. When you desperately want to know you are not alone, but are far too exhausted and drained to reach out, and all you hear is radio silence. That is the worst.
These nights are lonely. And endless.
But I have Andrew. And the sun will rise and push the loneliness and fear away.
I have written this post several times. And I always end up deleting it for fear of coming across too depressed or too negative. And that is truly not my disposition. Tonight I am feeling scared, but also a little brave. I promised to blog my experience with cancer and I would be remiss if I did not admit that there are moments of the utmost weakness and terror. There are moments where I can simply not hold the tears any longer and I fall to my knees weeping. And there are moments of laughter and happiness and joy.
If you want a small taste of the range of emotions, beautifully composed, listen to "Keep Rising" by Jack's Mannequin. The lyrics follow.
"Keep Rising (Passenger Demo)"
I could feel the pressure drop
And hope was just a broken bridge
And when the clouds refused to stop
They said you'd find the plan for this
And there was no place I could run
Just days without the sun
I was a ghost in waiting
Sleep to dream and hear you saying
Don't be afraid
The rain will make us what we are
And I will keep you sane
Just waiting with me in the dark
Cause this feels a whole lot like living dead
If it's just this song
To keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing
With the night so long
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
So they plugged my wires in
And told me I was born to fight
(Maybe you were born to, maybe you were born to die)
Sometimes the best machines don't win
Could you stay and get me through the night
Cause I'm so afraid.
The rain will make us what we are
Don't let me fade just waited with me in the dark
Cause this feels a whole lot like living dead
It's just this song to keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing?
With the night so long?
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
And we sing
Till we watch the streetlights all fall fast asleep
Yeah we sing till the sun rains down on everything
It's just this song to keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing
With a night so long
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
Keep rising
Keep rising, yeah
The sun will forever keep rising
Keep rising
Keep rising, yeah
The sun will forever keep rising
And hope was just a broken bridge
And when the clouds refused to stop
They said you'd find the plan for this
And there was no place I could run
Just days without the sun
I was a ghost in waiting
Sleep to dream and hear you saying
Don't be afraid
The rain will make us what we are
And I will keep you sane
Just waiting with me in the dark
Cause this feels a whole lot like living dead
If it's just this song
To keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing
With the night so long
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
So they plugged my wires in
And told me I was born to fight
(Maybe you were born to, maybe you were born to die)
Sometimes the best machines don't win
Could you stay and get me through the night
Cause I'm so afraid.
The rain will make us what we are
Don't let me fade just waited with me in the dark
Cause this feels a whole lot like living dead
It's just this song to keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing?
With the night so long?
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
And we sing
Till we watch the streetlights all fall fast asleep
Yeah we sing till the sun rains down on everything
It's just this song to keep us in the universe
While the wars are waging
I will be strong
There's no chance we could lose this fight
With the love that I'm facing
With a night so long
When the morning comes we'll know the truth
The sun will forever keep rising
Keep rising
Keep rising, yeah
The sun will forever keep rising
Keep rising
Keep rising, yeah
The sun will forever keep rising
Jeff's Fundraising Page at Give Forward:
http://gfwd.at/19AoOzG
2013/10/07
Are You There God? It's Me, Ashley.
Mood: scared, exhausted
When we got the news that Jeff's cancer had returned and that he would need three months of chemotherapy, I made a promise to myself that I was going to blog my way through the experience. And so, I write tonight. Bear with me. I am running on 5 hours of sleep and a day from hell. As I started this post I got angry at myself for not writing more of this journey. But, it occurred to me that we have only gotten through one full 5 day cycle of chemo. He has about 8 more to go. It's been just over a week....
That week has felt like a million years. I'm positive that I have aged at least 20 years.
Jeff has tolerated the chemo fairly well, and at the end of his third day we were actually pretty hopeful that he'd get through this without much discomfort and pain. The end of his third day was two days before my last post. Perhaps we got too excited too quick, or perhaps we were just incredibly naive about what this process really is.
The thing is, you really don't know much about chemo and cancer and IVs and pills until you are forced to know. I've always valued knowledge and learning and books but I find, as I sit here too scared to sleep, crying for my husband, for Malcolm, for myself and the loss of some imaginary sense of innocence, that there really is truth to the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing.
I know now, that cancer and chemo seem to be one step forward and three miles back.
I spent all of last night and this morning trapped in my head and hating myself. I got my period for the first time in a year and I hated that it's more confirmation that I can't have a child and that I was even thinking about given our current situation. I hated how fat I have gotten and that I haven't done a damn thing about it. I hated that I have no "best" friends in Iowa and that I'm too scared to get close enough to people to make any. I hated that sometimes I feel like I have no best friend at all. I hated that my sister is too far away and I haven't spoken to my brother in a year and that my mom could do nothing more than listen to me sob over the phone. I hated that Malcolm saw me cry and that he kissed my stomach to make me feel better and all I could do was cry more.
I hated so, so much today.
Jeff was running a fever all day. I hated watching him try to fight it. I hated that he seemed to be unable to do so.
He has been admitted to the hospital with the fever and a low white blood cell count. And I sit on the couch, alone, crying. And scared. The one thing I did know going into this battle is that it is very rarely cancer that takes a patient. It is an illness or infection that they just can't fight. And I am trying so, so hard to KNOW that Jeff is not going to go due to an illness...but I also told myself he wouldn't get this bad. I told myself the cancer was gone after his surgery in April. I seem adept at lying to myself.
And while I have no idea what will happen later tonight or tomorrow morning or the next day, I do know that I don't hate the fact that Jeff is in the hospital. I don't hate that I can't breath because my throat is so tight from choking on tears. I don't hate that Malcolm left the hospital telling me how much he was going to miss Daddy tonight. I don't hate any of that because I am just so aware of what I do have. I am alive. I have Malcolm to talk to, even if it's sad and scary sometimes. And I have a husband I love that I get to see tomorrow morning. And I have a Pomeranian cuddled on my lap, licking away the salty tears.
I have a great iTunes playlist going. I have a pink glittery cup holding my water. And I have people reading this. This might not get read by many people, I don't know. But if it does, I hope it gives you some hope. Or a bit of happiness. Life is scary. As much as we learn and plan and love and think, so much is out of our control. Sometimes it's important to remember that. And to stop fighting for control for a moment and to just be. And to allow what will happen to happen.
And if God is reading this,
Help.
Sincerely,
Ashley
When we got the news that Jeff's cancer had returned and that he would need three months of chemotherapy, I made a promise to myself that I was going to blog my way through the experience. And so, I write tonight. Bear with me. I am running on 5 hours of sleep and a day from hell. As I started this post I got angry at myself for not writing more of this journey. But, it occurred to me that we have only gotten through one full 5 day cycle of chemo. He has about 8 more to go. It's been just over a week....
That week has felt like a million years. I'm positive that I have aged at least 20 years.
Jeff has tolerated the chemo fairly well, and at the end of his third day we were actually pretty hopeful that he'd get through this without much discomfort and pain. The end of his third day was two days before my last post. Perhaps we got too excited too quick, or perhaps we were just incredibly naive about what this process really is.
The thing is, you really don't know much about chemo and cancer and IVs and pills until you are forced to know. I've always valued knowledge and learning and books but I find, as I sit here too scared to sleep, crying for my husband, for Malcolm, for myself and the loss of some imaginary sense of innocence, that there really is truth to the whole "ignorance is bliss" thing.
I know now, that cancer and chemo seem to be one step forward and three miles back.
I spent all of last night and this morning trapped in my head and hating myself. I got my period for the first time in a year and I hated that it's more confirmation that I can't have a child and that I was even thinking about given our current situation. I hated how fat I have gotten and that I haven't done a damn thing about it. I hated that I have no "best" friends in Iowa and that I'm too scared to get close enough to people to make any. I hated that sometimes I feel like I have no best friend at all. I hated that my sister is too far away and I haven't spoken to my brother in a year and that my mom could do nothing more than listen to me sob over the phone. I hated that Malcolm saw me cry and that he kissed my stomach to make me feel better and all I could do was cry more.
I hated so, so much today.
Jeff was running a fever all day. I hated watching him try to fight it. I hated that he seemed to be unable to do so.
He has been admitted to the hospital with the fever and a low white blood cell count. And I sit on the couch, alone, crying. And scared. The one thing I did know going into this battle is that it is very rarely cancer that takes a patient. It is an illness or infection that they just can't fight. And I am trying so, so hard to KNOW that Jeff is not going to go due to an illness...but I also told myself he wouldn't get this bad. I told myself the cancer was gone after his surgery in April. I seem adept at lying to myself.
And while I have no idea what will happen later tonight or tomorrow morning or the next day, I do know that I don't hate the fact that Jeff is in the hospital. I don't hate that I can't breath because my throat is so tight from choking on tears. I don't hate that Malcolm left the hospital telling me how much he was going to miss Daddy tonight. I don't hate any of that because I am just so aware of what I do have. I am alive. I have Malcolm to talk to, even if it's sad and scary sometimes. And I have a husband I love that I get to see tomorrow morning. And I have a Pomeranian cuddled on my lap, licking away the salty tears.
I have a great iTunes playlist going. I have a pink glittery cup holding my water. And I have people reading this. This might not get read by many people, I don't know. But if it does, I hope it gives you some hope. Or a bit of happiness. Life is scary. As much as we learn and plan and love and think, so much is out of our control. Sometimes it's important to remember that. And to stop fighting for control for a moment and to just be. And to allow what will happen to happen.
And if God is reading this,
Help.
Sincerely,
Ashley
2013/09/29
And it Begins
Mood: scared, sad
On Friday Jeff finished his first week of chemotherapy. We got to the hospital at 5am on Wednesday for his port insertion surgery. We left the hospital at 4pm after his 4.5 hours of chemo. 11 hours at the hospital, no matter how pleasant the staff (they are incredible) or how great it is to have your own room with a bed for the chemo (seriously that is sooooooo nice), sucks. 11 hours at the hospital sucks.
Thursday and Friday were, time wise, much easier. Only about 2.5 hours per day at the hospital and Jeff was able to sleep through the majority of his treatments.
We saw his oncologist on Friday and he gave us some good news; if Jeff hadn't gotten physically ill from the chemo yet, he probably would be spared the violent vomiting.
We got pretty excited as Jeff hates vomiting and historically I have a tendency to be a sympathetic puker. If I don't get sick I spend a few hours feeling nauseous at the very least.
We knew going into the weekend that these days would be when Jeff would most likely be at his most fatigued. And that's been very true. My husband can barely take a 5 minute shower without passing out from exhaustion. He cannot hold the comics he bought in anticipation of a ton of bed rest for more than 3 minutes and can't focus on the words or pictures for that long. He can't sit up. It is so painful to watch as he lies lifeless on the couch, this man who usually has a problem sitting still. It is painful to watch tears fall down his face when he can't hold a toy to play with his son. And it is most painful to be 100% helpless to make him any better. All I can do is watch and take care of him the best I am able.
Today, I managed to sleep in after a sleepless night. I got up, checked on Jeff and drank some coffee. He got in the shower and I thought about going for a walk with Zooey. I decided it would be best to wait and make sure he had everything he might need before I left the house, so I chose to go after he was out of the shower.
He got out and could not walk. He fell to the couch and asked for one of his anti-nausea pills, but it was too late.
As he ran to the bathroom I lost hope once again. I rubbed his back as he got sick and grabbed his special mouthwash, a pill and his Sprite. I massaged his shoulders while he could barely manage to hold his head up as he was sick. And my soul was ripped apart.
That's the thing about cancer. It takes away all happiness and hope at the very sneakiest of times. I knew that we had a long road ahead of us. And I knew that things would likely get worse than they had been this week. But I had faith that Jeff might escape with some shred of dignity. And that I might escape with hope.
Cancer strips the humanity of those who deal directly with the disease. Jeff is reduced to a person that I no longer know. His sense of humor and laugh, his energetic demeanor....they are hidden within, forced to take a backseat to this illness. My outgoing personality has retreated, and now I live in fear. Fear that this disease could win. Fear that Malcolm will have to watch this happen to his daddy and fear that I can do NOTHING to help. I have zero control and power and I am afraid.
I have become, in sorts, a robot. Waking each morning at 1am to check on Jeff and getting up later to take care of Jeff, the dogs and Malcolm. Then we go to chemo and I sit and watch as medicine pours into Jeff, draining him of all the life I am used to.
I know we are far from alone in this, and I am very aware that we are lucky. We have an excellent prognosis and only 3 months of this to deal with. I get that. I think that prior to treatment I told myself how lucky we were and I expected that to help with all of the negative side effects. The fact is, this sucks. While we are lucky, it does not change the fact that Jeff is sick. Very sick. And I cannot help. We are wading out way through this hell and hopefully, we will see a light at the end that helps keep us going.
To those who are offering support, financial, religious, spiritual, physical....whatever....we thank you. From the very bottom of our hearts and souls there is nothing we could do to ever repay the kindness and gratitude we have been shown. The John Stoddard Cancer center is amazing and our families have been a constant source of support in every sense of the word.
As we face the next few months, unsure of what will happen financially or physically, we know we have each other. And that we have an amazing group of family and friends that have reached out to let us know just how loved and cared for we are. Thank you. It seems like hardly enough to say, but it is all we have for now.
I'm watching Jeff sleep now. The dogs are curled on him as if their presence might protect him for future pain and sickness. Zooey sits in my lap, my constant companion. I sit here, praying for hope and some sense of peace, even if it is fleeting. I pray for an answer to our financial situation. And I pray, most of all, for the health of my husband. That he not suffer and that he returns to himself as quickly as possible.
And to my husband, who I am sure will read this when he wakes....Do not feel guilty or badly because you are not able to function as you once could. Do not feel uneasy that you need help and to be taken care of now. We all love you. And we all support you in this fight. And if I could, I would fight this for you. But as I cannot...I will sit by your side and bring you water and pills and rub your back when you are sick. And I will watch you sleep with a smile on my face knowing that one day, we will look back on this and remember just how fortunate we are to have our lives and our health for many, many years to come.
On Friday Jeff finished his first week of chemotherapy. We got to the hospital at 5am on Wednesday for his port insertion surgery. We left the hospital at 4pm after his 4.5 hours of chemo. 11 hours at the hospital, no matter how pleasant the staff (they are incredible) or how great it is to have your own room with a bed for the chemo (seriously that is sooooooo nice), sucks. 11 hours at the hospital sucks.
Thursday and Friday were, time wise, much easier. Only about 2.5 hours per day at the hospital and Jeff was able to sleep through the majority of his treatments.
We saw his oncologist on Friday and he gave us some good news; if Jeff hadn't gotten physically ill from the chemo yet, he probably would be spared the violent vomiting.
We got pretty excited as Jeff hates vomiting and historically I have a tendency to be a sympathetic puker. If I don't get sick I spend a few hours feeling nauseous at the very least.
We knew going into the weekend that these days would be when Jeff would most likely be at his most fatigued. And that's been very true. My husband can barely take a 5 minute shower without passing out from exhaustion. He cannot hold the comics he bought in anticipation of a ton of bed rest for more than 3 minutes and can't focus on the words or pictures for that long. He can't sit up. It is so painful to watch as he lies lifeless on the couch, this man who usually has a problem sitting still. It is painful to watch tears fall down his face when he can't hold a toy to play with his son. And it is most painful to be 100% helpless to make him any better. All I can do is watch and take care of him the best I am able.
Today, I managed to sleep in after a sleepless night. I got up, checked on Jeff and drank some coffee. He got in the shower and I thought about going for a walk with Zooey. I decided it would be best to wait and make sure he had everything he might need before I left the house, so I chose to go after he was out of the shower.
He got out and could not walk. He fell to the couch and asked for one of his anti-nausea pills, but it was too late.
As he ran to the bathroom I lost hope once again. I rubbed his back as he got sick and grabbed his special mouthwash, a pill and his Sprite. I massaged his shoulders while he could barely manage to hold his head up as he was sick. And my soul was ripped apart.
That's the thing about cancer. It takes away all happiness and hope at the very sneakiest of times. I knew that we had a long road ahead of us. And I knew that things would likely get worse than they had been this week. But I had faith that Jeff might escape with some shred of dignity. And that I might escape with hope.
Cancer strips the humanity of those who deal directly with the disease. Jeff is reduced to a person that I no longer know. His sense of humor and laugh, his energetic demeanor....they are hidden within, forced to take a backseat to this illness. My outgoing personality has retreated, and now I live in fear. Fear that this disease could win. Fear that Malcolm will have to watch this happen to his daddy and fear that I can do NOTHING to help. I have zero control and power and I am afraid.
I have become, in sorts, a robot. Waking each morning at 1am to check on Jeff and getting up later to take care of Jeff, the dogs and Malcolm. Then we go to chemo and I sit and watch as medicine pours into Jeff, draining him of all the life I am used to.
I know we are far from alone in this, and I am very aware that we are lucky. We have an excellent prognosis and only 3 months of this to deal with. I get that. I think that prior to treatment I told myself how lucky we were and I expected that to help with all of the negative side effects. The fact is, this sucks. While we are lucky, it does not change the fact that Jeff is sick. Very sick. And I cannot help. We are wading out way through this hell and hopefully, we will see a light at the end that helps keep us going.
To those who are offering support, financial, religious, spiritual, physical....whatever....we thank you. From the very bottom of our hearts and souls there is nothing we could do to ever repay the kindness and gratitude we have been shown. The John Stoddard Cancer center is amazing and our families have been a constant source of support in every sense of the word.
As we face the next few months, unsure of what will happen financially or physically, we know we have each other. And that we have an amazing group of family and friends that have reached out to let us know just how loved and cared for we are. Thank you. It seems like hardly enough to say, but it is all we have for now.
I'm watching Jeff sleep now. The dogs are curled on him as if their presence might protect him for future pain and sickness. Zooey sits in my lap, my constant companion. I sit here, praying for hope and some sense of peace, even if it is fleeting. I pray for an answer to our financial situation. And I pray, most of all, for the health of my husband. That he not suffer and that he returns to himself as quickly as possible.
And to my husband, who I am sure will read this when he wakes....Do not feel guilty or badly because you are not able to function as you once could. Do not feel uneasy that you need help and to be taken care of now. We all love you. And we all support you in this fight. And if I could, I would fight this for you. But as I cannot...I will sit by your side and bring you water and pills and rub your back when you are sick. And I will watch you sleep with a smile on my face knowing that one day, we will look back on this and remember just how fortunate we are to have our lives and our health for many, many years to come.
2013/01/09
Truth Is.....
Mood: frantic
Okay readers, here's the deal. I wait to post until I KNOW what I want to say. Or at least I know why I want to say something. I only post when I have been able to let an idea marinate and everything fits cohesively, if only in my head. Tonight is completely different. I KNOW that I have to blog, but I have no idea why. I don't even know what to say.
I'm having one of those days, weeks really, where I feel like I am a complete stranger to myself. I know things about me...here's a list
I am going to be 29 this year
I drink waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much caffeine
I have my dad's blue eyes
I have a BS from Millersville University
I have 4 tattoos and 10 piercings between 2 ears (though at least 3 of the holes never have earrings anymore and may very well be closed over)
I like writing
I laugh a lot
I love whiny college music even though it has been nearly 7 years since I graduated
I want to finish graduate school
That last one kind of just came out. Somewhere from deep inside me...that still small voice said it. Stupid. I don't want to want to finish my Master of Divinity because...well because it's scary.
All day I've had two things running through my head...an Optimus Prime quote (yeah...that surprised me too) and a song by The Starting Line. And all day these two things have been literally gnawing at me until I finally sat down to write this blog and then...BAM! There's this random thought on my computer screen. I deleted it once. Then retyped it and deleted it again. But I do want to finish. So in print it stays.
Back to the gnawing.
Optimus sagely tells Sam that "fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing." I have this audio clip on my phone. All day I have been hearing Optimus give this advice. First quietly. Then loudly. Now...I can't hear a thing. I'm overwhelmed.
I just finished an Anne Lamott book. I love her. In the book she talks about how obnoxious God is. Sending these small signals until we have been beaten into submission all but tearing out hair out going "ALRIGHT ALREADY I HEAR YOU."
Apparently I've hit that point. Here's what is really awful about wanting to finish school. I originally attended graduate school on a full scholarship. Not to say that grad school was cheap, it was very much NOT cheap. But my tuition was covered. And I threw it away. Just like that. I gave up. So I feel like I don't even deserve to want to go back.
And here's where I have a huge issue with God. I cannot go back right now. It is not a possibility. There is no way financially to make this happen. But I KNOW that until I go back...well...I won't feel right. And I didn't know that until right this second.
I got a message the other night from a dear seminary friend. I haven't answered it yet, as I just don't know what to say. I am so ashamed of my exit from school that...I just don't have words. But that was one of the last annoying nudges from God. Then Optimus. Then The Starting Line. The song is titled "Best of Me." It isn't necessarily the song itself...but the title. And the band name. I am at a starting line. Of sorts I guess. And I keep getting smacked in the face by small things that remind me of what I am supposed to do. And finally, it came out. The admission. The truth.
Readers, I never post without at least one thorough proofread. Tonight I just can't even read through this myself. Admitting the truth has been exhausting. But exhilarating.
So. Here I am. My truth hanging out there for all to see. To judge. To know. I feel naked. But I feel good.
Okay readers, here's the deal. I wait to post until I KNOW what I want to say. Or at least I know why I want to say something. I only post when I have been able to let an idea marinate and everything fits cohesively, if only in my head. Tonight is completely different. I KNOW that I have to blog, but I have no idea why. I don't even know what to say.
I'm having one of those days, weeks really, where I feel like I am a complete stranger to myself. I know things about me...here's a list
I am going to be 29 this year
I drink waaaaaaaaaaaaaay too much caffeine
I have my dad's blue eyes
I have a BS from Millersville University
I have 4 tattoos and 10 piercings between 2 ears (though at least 3 of the holes never have earrings anymore and may very well be closed over)
I like writing
I laugh a lot
I love whiny college music even though it has been nearly 7 years since I graduated
I want to finish graduate school
That last one kind of just came out. Somewhere from deep inside me...that still small voice said it. Stupid. I don't want to want to finish my Master of Divinity because...well because it's scary.
All day I've had two things running through my head...an Optimus Prime quote (yeah...that surprised me too) and a song by The Starting Line. And all day these two things have been literally gnawing at me until I finally sat down to write this blog and then...BAM! There's this random thought on my computer screen. I deleted it once. Then retyped it and deleted it again. But I do want to finish. So in print it stays.
Back to the gnawing.
Optimus sagely tells Sam that "fate rarely calls upon us at a moment of our choosing." I have this audio clip on my phone. All day I have been hearing Optimus give this advice. First quietly. Then loudly. Now...I can't hear a thing. I'm overwhelmed.
I just finished an Anne Lamott book. I love her. In the book she talks about how obnoxious God is. Sending these small signals until we have been beaten into submission all but tearing out hair out going "ALRIGHT ALREADY I HEAR YOU."
Apparently I've hit that point. Here's what is really awful about wanting to finish school. I originally attended graduate school on a full scholarship. Not to say that grad school was cheap, it was very much NOT cheap. But my tuition was covered. And I threw it away. Just like that. I gave up. So I feel like I don't even deserve to want to go back.
And here's where I have a huge issue with God. I cannot go back right now. It is not a possibility. There is no way financially to make this happen. But I KNOW that until I go back...well...I won't feel right. And I didn't know that until right this second.
I got a message the other night from a dear seminary friend. I haven't answered it yet, as I just don't know what to say. I am so ashamed of my exit from school that...I just don't have words. But that was one of the last annoying nudges from God. Then Optimus. Then The Starting Line. The song is titled "Best of Me." It isn't necessarily the song itself...but the title. And the band name. I am at a starting line. Of sorts I guess. And I keep getting smacked in the face by small things that remind me of what I am supposed to do. And finally, it came out. The admission. The truth.
Readers, I never post without at least one thorough proofread. Tonight I just can't even read through this myself. Admitting the truth has been exhausting. But exhilarating.
So. Here I am. My truth hanging out there for all to see. To judge. To know. I feel naked. But I feel good.
Thank you for bearing witness to my truth. And I hope you realize your own in good time.
2011/05/11
I'm On the Right Track
Mood: we're all born superstars
So it's been 2 weeks since I blogged. Unacceptable. Especially given the fact that my other writing has ceased also. I try to journal every single day...even if it's just a few words. I like to do creative writing....which is often an extension of the journaling....a few times a week. And the goal was to blog nice things daily. Then it turned it to a few times a week...and now...uh
And I could give you the "I'm soooooooooo busy" spiel cause it's not a lie. I've spent 2 nights at my apartment in the last week and a half...but that's still not an excuse for not taking time to write. As tired as I am....I've been up since 6 and worked with Sr. High kids tonight....I felt that I had to write tonight. My nice thing for myself is to write for a dear friend....not me.
The thing is...sometimes we get so busy and so wrapped up in everything that is going on around us that we forget to tend to what is going on in us. And that sucks. Cause when you finally do.....that's A LOT to deal with. Even if it's all happy stuff.
I went home last week and as I'm now engaged, wedding planning took up the majority of my time. Don't get me wrong...I loved every single second of it...but I had this 2 year old meltdown in the wedding aisle at Micheal's. Why? Even I'm not entirely sure. I had my whole family surrounding and supporting me...but everybody has different ideas. And Jeff was in Iowa...and...I was tired...and hungry...and happy...and a freaking tsunami of emotion hit me and I fell into my mom's shoulder. I couldn't help it. I'm a 27 year old soon to be married woman and I stood in the middle of a craft store sobbing into my mother's embrace.
But I felt great after a little cry. I couldn't contain everything that was inside me. And I try. I was born that way. Sometimes though...even if it's a piece of paper and a pen....or a best friend...something else has to feel the enormity of your emotion. Humans aren't meant to be alone. And I LOVE my alone time. But we can't get out of life alive...well....no matter what we do....but with some enjoyment if we don't let other people carry some of our stuff.
No matter how you were born...you weren't born to handle everything that comes your way by yourself. Hell even Jesus had 12 dudes (and women...but don't get me started on that) helping him out. And God? Pfffff...the Bible is full of his little helper monkeys.
I started this incoherent rambling because I thought I was writing for a friend...but I realized that my nice thing was to recognize....in what I thought to be her burden....that I have a flaw myself. And writing to all my random readers about it makes the load a little lighter to carry. Writing tonight put me back on track...helped center me...and reminded me what's important to me.
So take some time for yourself. Know what you are, who you are, and where you are. And if blogging or coloring of a shower or a nap doesn't help...I mean...you can always just numb your senses...I've provided the following video for brain numbing....enjoy!
So it's been 2 weeks since I blogged. Unacceptable. Especially given the fact that my other writing has ceased also. I try to journal every single day...even if it's just a few words. I like to do creative writing....which is often an extension of the journaling....a few times a week. And the goal was to blog nice things daily. Then it turned it to a few times a week...and now...uh
And I could give you the "I'm soooooooooo busy" spiel cause it's not a lie. I've spent 2 nights at my apartment in the last week and a half...but that's still not an excuse for not taking time to write. As tired as I am....I've been up since 6 and worked with Sr. High kids tonight....I felt that I had to write tonight. My nice thing for myself is to write for a dear friend....not me.
The thing is...sometimes we get so busy and so wrapped up in everything that is going on around us that we forget to tend to what is going on in us. And that sucks. Cause when you finally do.....that's A LOT to deal with. Even if it's all happy stuff.
I went home last week and as I'm now engaged, wedding planning took up the majority of my time. Don't get me wrong...I loved every single second of it...but I had this 2 year old meltdown in the wedding aisle at Micheal's. Why? Even I'm not entirely sure. I had my whole family surrounding and supporting me...but everybody has different ideas. And Jeff was in Iowa...and...I was tired...and hungry...and happy...and a freaking tsunami of emotion hit me and I fell into my mom's shoulder. I couldn't help it. I'm a 27 year old soon to be married woman and I stood in the middle of a craft store sobbing into my mother's embrace.
But I felt great after a little cry. I couldn't contain everything that was inside me. And I try. I was born that way. Sometimes though...even if it's a piece of paper and a pen....or a best friend...something else has to feel the enormity of your emotion. Humans aren't meant to be alone. And I LOVE my alone time. But we can't get out of life alive...well....no matter what we do....but with some enjoyment if we don't let other people carry some of our stuff.
No matter how you were born...you weren't born to handle everything that comes your way by yourself. Hell even Jesus had 12 dudes (and women...but don't get me started on that) helping him out. And God? Pfffff...the Bible is full of his little helper monkeys.
I started this incoherent rambling because I thought I was writing for a friend...but I realized that my nice thing was to recognize....in what I thought to be her burden....that I have a flaw myself. And writing to all my random readers about it makes the load a little lighter to carry. Writing tonight put me back on track...helped center me...and reminded me what's important to me.
So take some time for yourself. Know what you are, who you are, and where you are. And if blogging or coloring of a shower or a nap doesn't help...I mean...you can always just numb your senses...I've provided the following video for brain numbing....enjoy!
2011/04/26
Friday is Forever
Mood: ...we belong together...
It's now Easter Tuesday. Is that even an official way of describing it? I'm not sure. But here we are. Major news friends...and I don't care if I don't have a clue who you are nor you I...if you're reading this you are certainly a friend. At least for the next few paragraphs.
As I wrote previously working in a church during Holy Week....ugh. So, I took Good Friday off....as I take every Friday off...and in addition, I wanted to spend the evening/Saturday with the boyfriend and his awesome son. And in a completely unblasphemous way...it was a great Friday. Jeff proposed. Jeff = the boyfriend....or husband to be rather. Yes...we went from dating...to couple...to in love couple...to engaged in under 2 months. We couldn't be happier.
The picture does not do the ring justice...but I mean...he liked it so he put a ring on it...and you all had to see it.
As I went about my Easter morning (the Sunrise service, the breakfast, the egg hunt/Sunday School lesson, worship...) I couldn't help but think about how far I've come in the past year. I went about my Easter morning in a state or wonder, yes...but with a reflective wonder. I prayed...I rejoiced...I thought...and I spoke. As the day wound down, Jeff and I continued a tradition I had started last year...watching Shaun of the Dead on Easter. This year, though, we started it as OUR tradition...with champagne to celebrate the engagement of course.
Yesterday, as I was trying to take all that has happened in the past 2 months in...I reread the blog I wrote Easter Monday last year (because nothing helps you try to understand two months like adding another 10 months worth of crap to the mix...). I spent Easter completely alone (with the exception of Maddie's company...and her puppy love is exceptional) last year...but this year...I was with a new family, a future husband and a future stepson and I am honestly in awe. I feel so incredibly privileged to be living this life. My nice thing for today? Allowing myself to KNOW that I do deserve all the happiness that has come to me...and the lifetime of awesomeness that awaits Jeff and I.
The title of this blog is the title of my new fav We the Kings song. And it's kind of perfect for the day. I still am not sure, even though I'm staring at the ring, that the hugeness of this situation has hit me yet. Or maybe it has and I'm just so ready to start this new life that it wasn't what I thought it would be. It seems to me though, that very rarely are things what I was anticipating. Last year I blogged about how I was going to leave Iowa with a smile on my face in a short period of time. And at the same holiday this year? I'm keeping Friday in my heart every single day for the rest of my life...and you know...Iowa isn't THAT bad.
I hope you and yours had a happy Easter or passover celebration!
It's now Easter Tuesday. Is that even an official way of describing it? I'm not sure. But here we are. Major news friends...and I don't care if I don't have a clue who you are nor you I...if you're reading this you are certainly a friend. At least for the next few paragraphs.
As I wrote previously working in a church during Holy Week....ugh. So, I took Good Friday off....as I take every Friday off...and in addition, I wanted to spend the evening/Saturday with the boyfriend and his awesome son. And in a completely unblasphemous way...it was a great Friday. Jeff proposed. Jeff = the boyfriend....or husband to be rather. Yes...we went from dating...to couple...to in love couple...to engaged in under 2 months. We couldn't be happier.
The picture does not do the ring justice...but I mean...he liked it so he put a ring on it...and you all had to see it.
As I went about my Easter morning (the Sunrise service, the breakfast, the egg hunt/Sunday School lesson, worship...) I couldn't help but think about how far I've come in the past year. I went about my Easter morning in a state or wonder, yes...but with a reflective wonder. I prayed...I rejoiced...I thought...and I spoke. As the day wound down, Jeff and I continued a tradition I had started last year...watching Shaun of the Dead on Easter. This year, though, we started it as OUR tradition...with champagne to celebrate the engagement of course.
Yesterday, as I was trying to take all that has happened in the past 2 months in...I reread the blog I wrote Easter Monday last year (because nothing helps you try to understand two months like adding another 10 months worth of crap to the mix...). I spent Easter completely alone (with the exception of Maddie's company...and her puppy love is exceptional) last year...but this year...I was with a new family, a future husband and a future stepson and I am honestly in awe. I feel so incredibly privileged to be living this life. My nice thing for today? Allowing myself to KNOW that I do deserve all the happiness that has come to me...and the lifetime of awesomeness that awaits Jeff and I.
The title of this blog is the title of my new fav We the Kings song. And it's kind of perfect for the day. I still am not sure, even though I'm staring at the ring, that the hugeness of this situation has hit me yet. Or maybe it has and I'm just so ready to start this new life that it wasn't what I thought it would be. It seems to me though, that very rarely are things what I was anticipating. Last year I blogged about how I was going to leave Iowa with a smile on my face in a short period of time. And at the same holiday this year? I'm keeping Friday in my heart every single day for the rest of my life...and you know...Iowa isn't THAT bad.
I hope you and yours had a happy Easter or passover celebration!
2011/04/21
Holy Sh*t Week
Mood: annoyed
Earlier this week I was going to blog cleverly about how Holy Week for those who work in a church tends to be a more "holy shit" week. Yeah...I went there. Then I got busy working...seeing the boyfriend...working...talking to senior high kids about Judas (they didn't know who he was.....uh GASP) and so the blog didn't get written.
As I drove into work today the thought reappeared in my mind, and I decided I would write it today. And that I would write about how it's important to stay centered during this week of absolute insanity. Regardless of your profession, you KNOW those weeks. Where there are literally AT LEAST 400 things a day that have to get done. And you're not just dealing with this week, either...you're dealing with next week and next month and shit that happened two weeks ago. Which is what makes the 400 things that ABSOLUTELY have to get done even more fun.
The thing is...I got to work...was doing excellently...and then I asked an innocent question and got a whole speech on not doing enough and not being here enough and...frankly...I retreated to my office to lick my wounds.
I know that this week is stressful...and as I am NOT ordained (which I am frequently reminded of) I know that it may seem like I don't have that much to do pertaining to Holy Week. However, I have the Sr. High in charge of the Sunrise service (try getting kids excited about leading worship at 6.45 AM) plus their weekly meeting...they're serving breakfast immediately after the service which I'm in charge of coordinating, there's an egg hunt/Sunday School that takes place in the midst of the breakfast chaos AND I'm doing the children's chat. In addition to the services and prep for Sunday....there was an elementary school concert I attended this week...services tonight...and those are just some of the 400 things during THIS week. I'm still working on the mission trip in July...VBS in June...and assessing curriculum from this year's Sunday School (those were the only things that came to me immediately....).
So after I sulked...and sobbed to Cait...I decided I would run out and get some lunch and take care of some personal errands. Post office was a bust...got some stuff I needed to pick up elsewhere...and got Chinese for lunch because as horrible as it is for me...it's ALWAYS been my go to comfort food. Always. It was momentarily replaced by sushi...but I have no sushi near me sadly.
As I drove back to the office I realized that I had to write the holy shit blog....but not for my friends. For myself. My nice thing for myself today is to remember to center myself no matter what the hell else is going on. I'm useless in any situation if I can't be calm and present. So even though I am still loathing sitting behind this desk...and I'm still upset about how I've been treated...I'm going to remember that I'm incredibly lucky to have so many people who care about and support me. And they may not share a working space with me...but they share a much more special place....they share my heart.
So for all of you who have listened to me bitch...and freak out...and try to hold it together then lose it...thank you. Your support and love mean the world to me. And it is in your comforting words and constant support that I have managed to return to my (already slightly off) center today.
Earlier this week I was going to blog cleverly about how Holy Week for those who work in a church tends to be a more "holy shit" week. Yeah...I went there. Then I got busy working...seeing the boyfriend...working...talking to senior high kids about Judas (they didn't know who he was.....uh GASP) and so the blog didn't get written.
As I drove into work today the thought reappeared in my mind, and I decided I would write it today. And that I would write about how it's important to stay centered during this week of absolute insanity. Regardless of your profession, you KNOW those weeks. Where there are literally AT LEAST 400 things a day that have to get done. And you're not just dealing with this week, either...you're dealing with next week and next month and shit that happened two weeks ago. Which is what makes the 400 things that ABSOLUTELY have to get done even more fun.
The thing is...I got to work...was doing excellently...and then I asked an innocent question and got a whole speech on not doing enough and not being here enough and...frankly...I retreated to my office to lick my wounds.
I know that this week is stressful...and as I am NOT ordained (which I am frequently reminded of) I know that it may seem like I don't have that much to do pertaining to Holy Week. However, I have the Sr. High in charge of the Sunrise service (try getting kids excited about leading worship at 6.45 AM) plus their weekly meeting...they're serving breakfast immediately after the service which I'm in charge of coordinating, there's an egg hunt/Sunday School that takes place in the midst of the breakfast chaos AND I'm doing the children's chat. In addition to the services and prep for Sunday....there was an elementary school concert I attended this week...services tonight...and those are just some of the 400 things during THIS week. I'm still working on the mission trip in July...VBS in June...and assessing curriculum from this year's Sunday School (those were the only things that came to me immediately....).
So after I sulked...and sobbed to Cait...I decided I would run out and get some lunch and take care of some personal errands. Post office was a bust...got some stuff I needed to pick up elsewhere...and got Chinese for lunch because as horrible as it is for me...it's ALWAYS been my go to comfort food. Always. It was momentarily replaced by sushi...but I have no sushi near me sadly.
As I drove back to the office I realized that I had to write the holy shit blog....but not for my friends. For myself. My nice thing for myself today is to remember to center myself no matter what the hell else is going on. I'm useless in any situation if I can't be calm and present. So even though I am still loathing sitting behind this desk...and I'm still upset about how I've been treated...I'm going to remember that I'm incredibly lucky to have so many people who care about and support me. And they may not share a working space with me...but they share a much more special place....they share my heart.
So for all of you who have listened to me bitch...and freak out...and try to hold it together then lose it...thank you. Your support and love mean the world to me. And it is in your comforting words and constant support that I have managed to return to my (already slightly off) center today.
2011/03/18
Smile Kid...
Mood: put it in writing....
I've blogged before about how I am incredibly resistant to change. Of nearly any sort. Except for clothes. And hair. Underwear also. That changes frequently. Anyway...the point is, I typically am afraid of all the "what ifs" that come with changing things. The problem with asserting that I don't like change and this blog? Well...they are kind of diametrically opposed. I mean the word "change" is in the title for Christ's sake.
And this blog has changed since I started writing it...as has my life. I have changed in general. There have been huge changes, minor changes, smart changes, dumb changes...you get the idea. I was texting with my womans last night and this morning. She had just finished (this morning) her 4th of 12 hour overnight shifts in a row. She was painting her toenails (HOT PINK) and indulging in "her time" because of...get this shit...me. That's right...I inspired her a bit.
I'm fairly certain that everybody is aware of the need to take time out every so often. You won't make it out of this life alive if you can't stop and pamper yourself sometimes. And it doesn't have to be crazy big...it can be painting your toenails and texting a friend.
With that in mind...as you've been following this blog (or not...in which case feel free to read old entries) I've been doing my fair share of dating. First dates, non-dates...and other random assortments of social interactions. Last night? Another first date. I've blogged before about hating them. There's something kind of inherently evil about the first date. I feel like it wasn't always this way though. For example, Adam and Eve? That could have been super awkward but at least they had the whole world to themselves so they didn't have to worry about making fools out of themselves publicly. Plus I mean...they had the whole freaking garden to talk about..."that IS a nice bush" (yeah...I did).
Anyway. So a first date. On St. Patrick's day. With no alcohol. And sushi. Incredibly festive, I know. But it was actually...fantastic. While driving I found this in the KIA (which is going goodbye foreverrrrrrrrrrr soon!)
When I was smoking I had lighters stashed everywhere (you can NEVER find one) and that...sadly...included my sister's car. I was looking for a tissue when I found this. Uh...luck of the Irish? I think so. It was a sign from the KIA that the date was going to go well. And then:
That's right ladies and gentlemen, romance is not dead. I honestly don't even remember the last time I got flowers from a man. Other than my father. Which while greatly appreciated...just isn't quite the same. And on a first date? In my favorite color? Major points right there. The point scoring continued as he opened my car door. I think the last time that happened was........prom? Not certain. I think it's kinda sad how impressive the "little" things really are. But seriously...that's what life comes down to. On a day to day basis it doesn't matter how many Rolexs you own...you can really only wear one at a time anyway. What does matter though, is being surrounded by people that you care about...that care about you...and that show you they do.
I'm not planning a wedding or...more accurately adding anything to the one I have planned (and have had planned for probably 4 years or so.....) but I did have a first date that...didn't actually feel like a first date. It was just...kinda...I don't know...
But I do know this...I've been smiling pretty much all day. Staring at the flowers on my vanity is making me incredibly happy...as is listening to music and writing.
I've acknowledged before that change is inevitable...and what I'm realizing today is that...that's a good thing. And often...it's not even that scary.
Enjoy. And I'll continue with the ongoing story of my life by trying to remember it's not ALL about the shoes and the cars and the purses...but the little things...and the changes that lead you to them.
I've blogged before about how I am incredibly resistant to change. Of nearly any sort. Except for clothes. And hair. Underwear also. That changes frequently. Anyway...the point is, I typically am afraid of all the "what ifs" that come with changing things. The problem with asserting that I don't like change and this blog? Well...they are kind of diametrically opposed. I mean the word "change" is in the title for Christ's sake.
And this blog has changed since I started writing it...as has my life. I have changed in general. There have been huge changes, minor changes, smart changes, dumb changes...you get the idea. I was texting with my womans last night and this morning. She had just finished (this morning) her 4th of 12 hour overnight shifts in a row. She was painting her toenails (HOT PINK) and indulging in "her time" because of...get this shit...me. That's right...I inspired her a bit.
I'm fairly certain that everybody is aware of the need to take time out every so often. You won't make it out of this life alive if you can't stop and pamper yourself sometimes. And it doesn't have to be crazy big...it can be painting your toenails and texting a friend.
With that in mind...as you've been following this blog (or not...in which case feel free to read old entries) I've been doing my fair share of dating. First dates, non-dates...and other random assortments of social interactions. Last night? Another first date. I've blogged before about hating them. There's something kind of inherently evil about the first date. I feel like it wasn't always this way though. For example, Adam and Eve? That could have been super awkward but at least they had the whole world to themselves so they didn't have to worry about making fools out of themselves publicly. Plus I mean...they had the whole freaking garden to talk about..."that IS a nice bush" (yeah...I did).
Anyway. So a first date. On St. Patrick's day. With no alcohol. And sushi. Incredibly festive, I know. But it was actually...fantastic. While driving I found this in the KIA (which is going goodbye foreverrrrrrrrrrr soon!)
When I was smoking I had lighters stashed everywhere (you can NEVER find one) and that...sadly...included my sister's car. I was looking for a tissue when I found this. Uh...luck of the Irish? I think so. It was a sign from the KIA that the date was going to go well. And then:
That's right ladies and gentlemen, romance is not dead. I honestly don't even remember the last time I got flowers from a man. Other than my father. Which while greatly appreciated...just isn't quite the same. And on a first date? In my favorite color? Major points right there. The point scoring continued as he opened my car door. I think the last time that happened was........prom? Not certain. I think it's kinda sad how impressive the "little" things really are. But seriously...that's what life comes down to. On a day to day basis it doesn't matter how many Rolexs you own...you can really only wear one at a time anyway. What does matter though, is being surrounded by people that you care about...that care about you...and that show you they do.
I'm not planning a wedding or...more accurately adding anything to the one I have planned (and have had planned for probably 4 years or so.....) but I did have a first date that...didn't actually feel like a first date. It was just...kinda...I don't know...
But I do know this...I've been smiling pretty much all day. Staring at the flowers on my vanity is making me incredibly happy...as is listening to music and writing.
I've acknowledged before that change is inevitable...and what I'm realizing today is that...that's a good thing. And often...it's not even that scary.
Enjoy. And I'll continue with the ongoing story of my life by trying to remember it's not ALL about the shoes and the cars and the purses...but the little things...and the changes that lead you to them.
2011/03/13
All the Small Things
Mood: rocking out
I learned something today. You can't rely on a smart phone to wake you up during daylight savings time, at least if you're me. Because, if you are me...you will wake up thinking you're early...then decide you have time to check your e-mail...only to realize that you have 20 minutes before you have to leave the house. At least I can always rely on social networking for the truth (and while that worked today...please note sarcasm).
So after my rushed shower and dressing and running (literally) out the door....I had a few minutes in the car to calm myself down. I did this by loudly blasting All Time Low and screaming along. Yes, screaming. Most people who work in a church eventually face the problem of what to do during the commute to church. It is a question I have seen posted on facebook hundreds of times. It's a question and struggle I've watched my mom have. Me? I don't have it.
Perhaps it's because I am not responsible for delivering a week's worth of faith to people (or...all their faith...cause doing it oneself is waaaaaaaaaaay hard). Or perhaps it's because I don't believe that worship only happens in the church. And that the church is really just another building.
Or it could be this: every time the question of how to best prepare during the commute comes up...my answer is always the same... just make sure it makes you happy. Super helpful I know, since most people are asking for specific radio stations or CDs full of worship songs or classical music. Often their goal is something very calm, serene. But if I'm going to work on a Sunday morning when I'm already tired...cranky...and this morning LATE...I need something that is going to get me pretty freaking excited about my day. If I'm going to inspire a bunch of kids to get excited...don't I first have to be excited? I feel like it's totally unfair to ask them to come all pumped and happy to be there if I can't muster the same thing.
Thus, I do what makes me happy. I listen to music that anybody else would soooooooooooo not chose as "preparation for worship" music. I get excited. I need to be a little...well...uncalm. Which is an awesome new word. Try using it in a sentence today.
The pump up music (hehe that makes me giggle cause pump up sounds dirty...) isn't just a Sunday morning thing. It's an every morning thing for me. The reason I chose to blog about it as my nice thing today? Sunday is the only day of the week where I feel like I should be...well...more "normal" about my musical selection. Because there is so much talk about how to best prepare oneself for worship when in a leadership position in the church. So I always feel slightly....bad?....listening to my music. I mean...Jesus probably wasn't rocking out to Blink singing about incest or how "it'd be nice to get a blowjob" (ps...one of the best Blink songs ever. hands down.)...but I KNOW that doesn't mean I can't. Or shouldn't.
Isn't preparing for worship a uniquely individual thing? And it shouldn't really matter how we get there...just that we do. So....here's a little something that while I didn't start my day with...I'm ending with. Because at the end of the day (did you see what I just did there?) my blog is...all the small things.
I learned something today. You can't rely on a smart phone to wake you up during daylight savings time, at least if you're me. Because, if you are me...you will wake up thinking you're early...then decide you have time to check your e-mail...only to realize that you have 20 minutes before you have to leave the house. At least I can always rely on social networking for the truth (and while that worked today...please note sarcasm).
So after my rushed shower and dressing and running (literally) out the door....I had a few minutes in the car to calm myself down. I did this by loudly blasting All Time Low and screaming along. Yes, screaming. Most people who work in a church eventually face the problem of what to do during the commute to church. It is a question I have seen posted on facebook hundreds of times. It's a question and struggle I've watched my mom have. Me? I don't have it.
Perhaps it's because I am not responsible for delivering a week's worth of faith to people (or...all their faith...cause doing it oneself is waaaaaaaaaaay hard). Or perhaps it's because I don't believe that worship only happens in the church. And that the church is really just another building.
Or it could be this: every time the question of how to best prepare during the commute comes up...my answer is always the same... just make sure it makes you happy. Super helpful I know, since most people are asking for specific radio stations or CDs full of worship songs or classical music. Often their goal is something very calm, serene. But if I'm going to work on a Sunday morning when I'm already tired...cranky...and this morning LATE...I need something that is going to get me pretty freaking excited about my day. If I'm going to inspire a bunch of kids to get excited...don't I first have to be excited? I feel like it's totally unfair to ask them to come all pumped and happy to be there if I can't muster the same thing.
Thus, I do what makes me happy. I listen to music that anybody else would soooooooooooo not chose as "preparation for worship" music. I get excited. I need to be a little...well...uncalm. Which is an awesome new word. Try using it in a sentence today.
The pump up music (hehe that makes me giggle cause pump up sounds dirty...) isn't just a Sunday morning thing. It's an every morning thing for me. The reason I chose to blog about it as my nice thing today? Sunday is the only day of the week where I feel like I should be...well...more "normal" about my musical selection. Because there is so much talk about how to best prepare oneself for worship when in a leadership position in the church. So I always feel slightly....bad?....listening to my music. I mean...Jesus probably wasn't rocking out to Blink singing about incest or how "it'd be nice to get a blowjob" (ps...one of the best Blink songs ever. hands down.)...but I KNOW that doesn't mean I can't. Or shouldn't.
Isn't preparing for worship a uniquely individual thing? And it shouldn't really matter how we get there...just that we do. So....here's a little something that while I didn't start my day with...I'm ending with. Because at the end of the day (did you see what I just did there?) my blog is...all the small things.
2011/03/10
I Fly Solo
Mood: red cup
Sup? It's been a few days. This week has been, for lack of a better word...intense. Due to weather related issues (and a paranoid but well meaning) grandmother...today is the first day I have been at my apartment since Sunday.
Work this week has been...challenging...to say the least. I've had more mini crises of faith in the past 4 days than I ever have in my life. And I've been through 2 years of seminary! So....I picked up a book by Bart Ehrman (highly recommend this author if you've never read him). God's Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer our Most Important Question - Why We Suffer which is aimed at pointing out how faith can indeed leave you hanging sometimes. How God and the Bible and religion in general can leave you feeling alone and exposed and hurting.
As I drove to Early today...heading towards my apartment...I was freaking out. I haven't had a panic attack in probably 3 weeks or so. But when I woke up this morning one felt imminent. So, I adjusted my work schedule and with Caitlyn on the phone, I decided to face the anxiety head on. I have never felt that kind of anxiety regarding my apartment. Sure...coming home from PA in January was sad without Caitlyn...but it wasn't a reason to panic. This morning though...something kind of snapped in me. And I realized that for the past few days I've been surrounded by people constantly. While I'm not alone often...I usually do get my "me" time in the morning and evening before and after work. But with the weather and family...well there was no "me" time this week.
I guess being around somebody 24/7 again and then...very suddenly being not around anybody...reinforced how alone I am sometimes. And it sincerely freaked me out.
But I came home. Put away the dishes that had been left drying from Sunday morning and did some closet cleaning. Texted with friends and fam. Watched some glee....and had a random need to listen to this song:
I haven't listened to this song since Cait lived here and we had random late night insomnia induced dance parties in the bedroom. Instead of making me sad and homesick...it made me happy. Yeah...I live alone...but that in no way means that I am alone.
So today my nice thing was to take ownership of me. To remind myself that I'm not alone even when I'm alone. To read something affirming, funny, and thought provoking...and also Cosmo...and to paint my nails...do a face mask. Make an awesome dinner and indulge in some pretty sweet single activities.
Sup? It's been a few days. This week has been, for lack of a better word...intense. Due to weather related issues (and a paranoid but well meaning) grandmother...today is the first day I have been at my apartment since Sunday.
Work this week has been...challenging...to say the least. I've had more mini crises of faith in the past 4 days than I ever have in my life. And I've been through 2 years of seminary! So....I picked up a book by Bart Ehrman (highly recommend this author if you've never read him). God's Problem: How the Bible Fails to Answer our Most Important Question - Why We Suffer which is aimed at pointing out how faith can indeed leave you hanging sometimes. How God and the Bible and religion in general can leave you feeling alone and exposed and hurting.
As I drove to Early today...heading towards my apartment...I was freaking out. I haven't had a panic attack in probably 3 weeks or so. But when I woke up this morning one felt imminent. So, I adjusted my work schedule and with Caitlyn on the phone, I decided to face the anxiety head on. I have never felt that kind of anxiety regarding my apartment. Sure...coming home from PA in January was sad without Caitlyn...but it wasn't a reason to panic. This morning though...something kind of snapped in me. And I realized that for the past few days I've been surrounded by people constantly. While I'm not alone often...I usually do get my "me" time in the morning and evening before and after work. But with the weather and family...well there was no "me" time this week.
I guess being around somebody 24/7 again and then...very suddenly being not around anybody...reinforced how alone I am sometimes. And it sincerely freaked me out.
But I came home. Put away the dishes that had been left drying from Sunday morning and did some closet cleaning. Texted with friends and fam. Watched some glee....and had a random need to listen to this song:
I haven't listened to this song since Cait lived here and we had random late night insomnia induced dance parties in the bedroom. Instead of making me sad and homesick...it made me happy. Yeah...I live alone...but that in no way means that I am alone.
So today my nice thing was to take ownership of me. To remind myself that I'm not alone even when I'm alone. To read something affirming, funny, and thought provoking...and also Cosmo...and to paint my nails...do a face mask. Make an awesome dinner and indulge in some pretty sweet single activities.
2011/03/07
Jesus and Lady Gaga...Baby, They Were Born This Way....
Mood: born this way
Okay so I have to admit two things. 1) I publicly disliked Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" from the beginning for sounding too much like Madonna. 2) I am now obsessed with the song. I'm not sure which one of these confessions is more offensive. But here we are. With me in love with the song.
Yesterday was Transfiguration Sunday. A pretty tough Sunday School lesson...especially in light of (did you see what I just did there? oh biblical humor....) the fact that it was our highest attended Sunday School to date with two kids who have never been before showing up! But...my obsession with all things sparkly and glittery came in handy yesterday. For our craft...I asked the kids to use black construction paper and using only gold, silver, and two varying degrees of "clear" glitter glue...transform the paper into a piece of light. They did amazingly. Here's mine.
Okay so I have to admit two things. 1) I publicly disliked Lady Gaga's "Born This Way" from the beginning for sounding too much like Madonna. 2) I am now obsessed with the song. I'm not sure which one of these confessions is more offensive. But here we are. With me in love with the song.
Yesterday was Transfiguration Sunday. A pretty tough Sunday School lesson...especially in light of (did you see what I just did there? oh biblical humor....) the fact that it was our highest attended Sunday School to date with two kids who have never been before showing up! But...my obsession with all things sparkly and glittery came in handy yesterday. For our craft...I asked the kids to use black construction paper and using only gold, silver, and two varying degrees of "clear" glitter glue...transform the paper into a piece of light. They did amazingly. Here's mine.
I tend to go pretty abstract when working with glitter. And the green looking one...is not at all green. Stupid drying ugly like.
Anyway. So I went home in the afternoon and set out about doing nothing. I watched a ton of WE's wedding programming since I was around cable for once. Feeling super girly and indulgent I cracked open the latest Vogue...and actually READ the article on Lady Gaga as I have a new obsession with her current single. Just as I was getting ready to give up on the crazy that is Lady Gaga...she says the most...AWESOME thing that just...made perfect sense on Transfiguration Sunday. I mean...Jesus himself could just as easily have said this. Which I know sounds weird...but it's true:
The truth is, the mystery and the magic is my art. That is what I am good at. You are fascinated by precisely the thing that you are trying to analyze and undo.
Honestly...I was just...I kind of sat there holding the freaking book that is this month's issue open...staring at the wedding mayhem taking place on WE...and all of a sudden...I got it. As I'm typing this...I don't know exactly what it is I understood...but the entire day just...made sense. Everything made sense. My life in Iowa. My career...leaving school...there was nothing to question anymore.
Then I woke up this morning...and I'm homesick and tired of snow (which it is doing in Iowa today) and I was all pissy again. Plus I have a meeting tonight and I hate few things more than church meetings. Good thing I work in a church, no?
But Lady Gaga taught me something yesterday: things don't ALWAYS have to make sense. And the reason it was soooooooooo easy for me to say that Jesus could have said the same thing that Lady Gaga did...is that I don't have to make sense of faith. I never have. Sure I'm curious and I try to work out questions...but at the end of the day...I just believe. I can easily take the Bible at face value but still believe in God and the mystery that is the life of Jesus. And THAT is the hardest part of religion for so many people. But not me. Which is one of the reasons I work well with kids...that and I still laugh at the word "balls" every single time I hear it. But seriously. Communion? I never worry about where Jesus is. He doesn't have to BE the bread...or be under it or on top of it or smeared on it...it is what it is. And I'm okay with that.
It's the rest of my life that I constantly try to make sense. The non-existent love life. The career. The leaving school. The entire state of Iowa. I mean...I pick apart every single thing I do and say and feel until I have no room for mystery left. And that gets tiring and old and boring. Which are three adjectives that are simply not me. I've probably written this exact nice thing about 10 times since I started this blog in August...but until I finally can release the need to control everything...I'm going to keep having this crazy "AHA" moment.
What can I say? I'm a work in progress...I was born this way. Starting iTunes now....
2011/03/03
Deadsies
Mood: blessed
Every time I'm faced with death I can't help but be sad. Even if I had no relationship with the deceased. I will never forget last April, as I watched a resident take her last breath. I had been working in long-term care since the fall...and managed to avoid witnessing a death until the spring. I had been in her hospice room reading Psalms to her. A nurse's aid held her left hand, as I held her right. The aid checked her pulse every few minutes. We said nothing to each other while we were in the room together...we didn't need to. I read. She listened. And we held the hands of a dying woman.
As this woman took her last gasping breath the only thing I could think about was...how hard that was for me. And how terrible I must be to feel that. I'll never forget the conversation I had with my mother as soon as I left work for the day. I sobbed uncontrollably sputtering out how I felt terrible that I could only think of myself. She reminded me that I was brave for being able to be present. For comforting someone. For making sure this woman was not alone as she prepared for the final step in coming home.
Shortly after that I read a book on Celtic spirituality that helped me reconcile my feelings of grief for her, and for myself. In this book were some words from the amazing poet T.S. Eliot:
One of the most beautiful aspects of Celtic spirituality to me is the idea that we journey along a path that is cyclical in nature. We are born with all we need to know...living is simply being able to extract that which is already in our hearts and souls.
This may have seemed to come out of nowhere...as some of my posts do. However, there was a funeral at the church this morning. And as I listened to the service...and helped grieving family members find their way around the church...I didn't feel sorry for myself. I felt grief and immense sadness for those surrounding me. But for me? I felt blessed. I felt immensely grateful to go back to my office. To be able to call my sister. To e-mail my dad. To be alive.
As we approach Lent...perhaps most especially Ash Wednesday...we are reminded of the finite and frail nature of humanity. Yet I was reminded today by a dear friend, and old professor that this does not need to be the only thing we remember. We can remember that while we are dying...we are also living. And Lent can be a time to reclaim the transitory nature of our existence. To "stop and smell the roses." To find beauty and blessing in all that surrounds you.
If you're not a "God" stuff kinda person...maybe it's a text that makes you smile during your day. A song on the radio that had been long forgotten or a movie that speaks to you. Whatever it is...may you experience the blessings that ARE all around you. I know I have today. And I can only hope to enter into this holy season continuing to remember how very blessed I truly am.
Every time I'm faced with death I can't help but be sad. Even if I had no relationship with the deceased. I will never forget last April, as I watched a resident take her last breath. I had been working in long-term care since the fall...and managed to avoid witnessing a death until the spring. I had been in her hospice room reading Psalms to her. A nurse's aid held her left hand, as I held her right. The aid checked her pulse every few minutes. We said nothing to each other while we were in the room together...we didn't need to. I read. She listened. And we held the hands of a dying woman.
As this woman took her last gasping breath the only thing I could think about was...how hard that was for me. And how terrible I must be to feel that. I'll never forget the conversation I had with my mother as soon as I left work for the day. I sobbed uncontrollably sputtering out how I felt terrible that I could only think of myself. She reminded me that I was brave for being able to be present. For comforting someone. For making sure this woman was not alone as she prepared for the final step in coming home.
Shortly after that I read a book on Celtic spirituality that helped me reconcile my feelings of grief for her, and for myself. In this book were some words from the amazing poet T.S. Eliot:
And the end of all our exploring will be to arrive where we started and to know the place for the first time.
One of the most beautiful aspects of Celtic spirituality to me is the idea that we journey along a path that is cyclical in nature. We are born with all we need to know...living is simply being able to extract that which is already in our hearts and souls.
This may have seemed to come out of nowhere...as some of my posts do. However, there was a funeral at the church this morning. And as I listened to the service...and helped grieving family members find their way around the church...I didn't feel sorry for myself. I felt grief and immense sadness for those surrounding me. But for me? I felt blessed. I felt immensely grateful to go back to my office. To be able to call my sister. To e-mail my dad. To be alive.
As we approach Lent...perhaps most especially Ash Wednesday...we are reminded of the finite and frail nature of humanity. Yet I was reminded today by a dear friend, and old professor that this does not need to be the only thing we remember. We can remember that while we are dying...we are also living. And Lent can be a time to reclaim the transitory nature of our existence. To "stop and smell the roses." To find beauty and blessing in all that surrounds you.
If you're not a "God" stuff kinda person...maybe it's a text that makes you smile during your day. A song on the radio that had been long forgotten or a movie that speaks to you. Whatever it is...may you experience the blessings that ARE all around you. I know I have today. And I can only hope to enter into this holy season continuing to remember how very blessed I truly am.
2011/02/28
I'm Extra Ordinary.....
Mood: I've got a little bit of hope...like a soap on a rope....
I love Better Than Ezra...
When I wake up...or before I fall asleep...it will be March. I can't believe that the first 2 months of 2011 are gone already. It feels as though it's been a full year...and just a week at the same time.
As we welcome Spring and Lent and of course...my birthday...I've been doing some thinking. I started a journal again. While writing on here is cathartic for me...it's nothing compared to putting a pen to paper. To the feeling of physically getting words out of me. To watch my hand hold a pen and form words from my thoughts. The beauty of flowing and scrawling across an empty page.
The thoughts are random...at best...and much like what I end up writing in here.
As spring approaches...and my paranoia induced by insomnia is conquered for the minute...I'm feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time about my life. Not that I haven't been happy or content...but I've definitely had ups and downs in the first 2 months of this year. Today, though, I feel truly hopeful as to what the rest of the year may bring.
While there are always things that will need improvement...I'm actually working towards those things now. I have rejoined a gym. Started actively seeking a doctor I trust and like. Decided it's time to start therapy again (I soooooo hate this...but I know it'll be helpful in the long run). Putting in tons of hours at work... and finding joy in it. Attempting a social life. Reading. Eating better and drinking more water (I am sooooooooooooo bad about this sometimes). Cleaning up just a little every day. Organizing. Saving money when I can.
Just small, tiny things that seem insignificant...but will have a extraordinary impact on the rest of my year. And if I do it right...the rest of my life.
So I'm ready for spring...and March...and at least for tonight...I'm ready for the rest of the year.
And also...I'm ready for bed. Got to get a full 7 hours or I'll be cranky.
Sleep well...and be nice. And extraordinary...
I love Better Than Ezra...
When I wake up...or before I fall asleep...it will be March. I can't believe that the first 2 months of 2011 are gone already. It feels as though it's been a full year...and just a week at the same time.
As we welcome Spring and Lent and of course...my birthday...I've been doing some thinking. I started a journal again. While writing on here is cathartic for me...it's nothing compared to putting a pen to paper. To the feeling of physically getting words out of me. To watch my hand hold a pen and form words from my thoughts. The beauty of flowing and scrawling across an empty page.
The thoughts are random...at best...and much like what I end up writing in here.
As spring approaches...and my paranoia induced by insomnia is conquered for the minute...I'm feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time about my life. Not that I haven't been happy or content...but I've definitely had ups and downs in the first 2 months of this year. Today, though, I feel truly hopeful as to what the rest of the year may bring.
While there are always things that will need improvement...I'm actually working towards those things now. I have rejoined a gym. Started actively seeking a doctor I trust and like. Decided it's time to start therapy again (I soooooo hate this...but I know it'll be helpful in the long run). Putting in tons of hours at work... and finding joy in it. Attempting a social life. Reading. Eating better and drinking more water (I am sooooooooooooo bad about this sometimes). Cleaning up just a little every day. Organizing. Saving money when I can.
Just small, tiny things that seem insignificant...but will have a extraordinary impact on the rest of my year. And if I do it right...the rest of my life.
So I'm ready for spring...and March...and at least for tonight...I'm ready for the rest of the year.
And also...I'm ready for bed. Got to get a full 7 hours or I'll be cranky.
Sleep well...and be nice. And extraordinary...
2011/02/22
Losing My Religion
Mood: you say that I've been changing...that I'm not just simply aging...
I haven't blogged since last week. I also haven't slept since last week. Well...for more than 2 hours a night or so anyway. As I've been unable to make sense of anything around me, I did what is the most comfortable for me to do...I hid. Sometimes with 5 million things going on around me I'm still able to come up with something coherent to blog. Not recently. This most recent bout of insomnia has left me...
Insomnia affects every single aspect of your life from physical features (not enough under-eye concealer in the WORLD for these circles) to physical health (add the flu to my strep) to mental health (welcome back panic attacks!) to emotional health (depressed and hopelessly lonely) to spiritual health (uh....absent....completely).
As I sat at my desk today with about 25 projects scattered in front of me...I could NOT focus on anything. Not one thing. I tried for nearly 2.5 hours to write a note to send home with the kids. I've written 10 page papers in less time than that...this note should have taken about 3o seconds.
When I'm this lost there are few things that help me. One, though, is...reading. If I can find engaging material I can generally shut off the other nagging areas of crazy that keep me from being productive. So I rooted around the bookshelf...for this was not a "crack open the Bible" kind of day...and I found a text from seminary that I recall having genuinely enjoyed. It's core is on youth, youth culture, religion, church, etc...and so I decided I'd take a second look at it. As I was reading I became engrossed in the material (SCORE) and started nodding, or shaking my head...answering or disagreeing with the text in front of me. I happened to be reading about how parental religious grip loosens as children get older...when...that's really quite detrimental to children and their faith.
And as I'm angrily agreeing thinking how much easier my job would be if parent's were as involved as they expect their kids to be WITHOUT forcing their hand...I realized...I'm about as religiously strict as a 2 year old. I had to put the book down before freaking out.
As an educator in the church, I suppose I have a certain amount of authority. And I will be the first to admit that I am certainly a reluctant authority figure. That being said...I doubt that the high school kids would admit authoritative status of me from the get go...or the majority anyway...but I imagine if you asked them in a round about way whether or not they considered their youth group leader to be an authority figure...the answer would be pleasant. The annoying thing about that? To carry authority you have to first have beliefs...and...well...lately...
I've been so busy trying to stay afloat in this "new" life that I lost track of pretty much everything about my old one. I can't remember the last time I wrote a journal entry as opposed to a blog. I used to write (by hand) for hours before bed. Or the last time I colored a prayer that was honestly on MY heart. The last time I sat down to read...and I don't recall the last time I went to the lake or cooked an extravagant meal just because...
So as I read about how detrimental it is to loosen the parental grip on religion...and why it's done...I couldn't help but think of my own current frustration. Parents let go of church because there are other, more pressing matters. School (college is EXPENSIVE), pregnancy, drugs, friends, work...kids today are merely youngER adults. They hold harder hours than I do for the most part. And I'm sitting at my desk angrily thinking "well the more 'important' stuff can be here too..." when all of a sudden I realized...
Damn. That sucks. Cause...I can't point the finger if where I really need to point it is in the mirror. Hell...my more "important" stuff became...absolutely trivial in comparison to that list.
Truth is, religion and I...we're an odd pair...but I can't say I could live without it...even if I despise the institutional religious atmosphere I'm in. The point to all this rambling? My nice thing today is simply a renewed effort to remember what is most important to me.
My family. Friends. Laughing. Writing. Reading. Figuring out religion. Spiritual practices. Wellness. Shoes. Make-up. Nice things.
Being better. Doing better...and living better by proxy. May God give you the kick in the ass that I got today...
and may I sleep tonight.
the video relates to my earlier sentiments about religion:
I haven't blogged since last week. I also haven't slept since last week. Well...for more than 2 hours a night or so anyway. As I've been unable to make sense of anything around me, I did what is the most comfortable for me to do...I hid. Sometimes with 5 million things going on around me I'm still able to come up with something coherent to blog. Not recently. This most recent bout of insomnia has left me...
Insomnia affects every single aspect of your life from physical features (not enough under-eye concealer in the WORLD for these circles) to physical health (add the flu to my strep) to mental health (welcome back panic attacks!) to emotional health (depressed and hopelessly lonely) to spiritual health (uh....absent....completely).
As I sat at my desk today with about 25 projects scattered in front of me...I could NOT focus on anything. Not one thing. I tried for nearly 2.5 hours to write a note to send home with the kids. I've written 10 page papers in less time than that...this note should have taken about 3o seconds.
When I'm this lost there are few things that help me. One, though, is...reading. If I can find engaging material I can generally shut off the other nagging areas of crazy that keep me from being productive. So I rooted around the bookshelf...for this was not a "crack open the Bible" kind of day...and I found a text from seminary that I recall having genuinely enjoyed. It's core is on youth, youth culture, religion, church, etc...and so I decided I'd take a second look at it. As I was reading I became engrossed in the material (SCORE) and started nodding, or shaking my head...answering or disagreeing with the text in front of me. I happened to be reading about how parental religious grip loosens as children get older...when...that's really quite detrimental to children and their faith.
And as I'm angrily agreeing thinking how much easier my job would be if parent's were as involved as they expect their kids to be WITHOUT forcing their hand...I realized...I'm about as religiously strict as a 2 year old. I had to put the book down before freaking out.
As an educator in the church, I suppose I have a certain amount of authority. And I will be the first to admit that I am certainly a reluctant authority figure. That being said...I doubt that the high school kids would admit authoritative status of me from the get go...or the majority anyway...but I imagine if you asked them in a round about way whether or not they considered their youth group leader to be an authority figure...the answer would be pleasant. The annoying thing about that? To carry authority you have to first have beliefs...and...well...lately...
I've been so busy trying to stay afloat in this "new" life that I lost track of pretty much everything about my old one. I can't remember the last time I wrote a journal entry as opposed to a blog. I used to write (by hand) for hours before bed. Or the last time I colored a prayer that was honestly on MY heart. The last time I sat down to read...and I don't recall the last time I went to the lake or cooked an extravagant meal just because...
So as I read about how detrimental it is to loosen the parental grip on religion...and why it's done...I couldn't help but think of my own current frustration. Parents let go of church because there are other, more pressing matters. School (college is EXPENSIVE), pregnancy, drugs, friends, work...kids today are merely youngER adults. They hold harder hours than I do for the most part. And I'm sitting at my desk angrily thinking "well the more 'important' stuff can be here too..." when all of a sudden I realized...
Damn. That sucks. Cause...I can't point the finger if where I really need to point it is in the mirror. Hell...my more "important" stuff became...absolutely trivial in comparison to that list.
Truth is, religion and I...we're an odd pair...but I can't say I could live without it...even if I despise the institutional religious atmosphere I'm in. The point to all this rambling? My nice thing today is simply a renewed effort to remember what is most important to me.
My family. Friends. Laughing. Writing. Reading. Figuring out religion. Spiritual practices. Wellness. Shoes. Make-up. Nice things.
Being better. Doing better...and living better by proxy. May God give you the kick in the ass that I got today...
and may I sleep tonight.
the video relates to my earlier sentiments about religion:
Next time you point a finger...I'll point you to the mirror. If God's the game that you're playing, well we must get more acquainted. Because it has to be so lonely to be the only one who's holy. It's just my humble opinion, but it's one that I believe in...you don't deserve a point of view if the only thing you see is you.
2011/02/06
And then God created....the Super Bowl
Mood: packers?
So they won. Which I knew they would...and I knew this because they got a very special prayer in church today. And clearly I believe in a God that has nothing to do but listen to the prayers of people and sit around watching football. Russell Brand actually does a hilarious bit on this version of God...using people who thank God at award shows:
Because, or course God's got nothing better to do than sit around. OH MY ME the MTV VMAs are tonight. No, no Lil Wayne...thank YOU.
Makes me chuckle every time I see Lil Wayne.
Anyway...I had a crazy busy weekend. So not like me. I usually just kinda veg until Friday night when I either have plans or don't...and then do nothing Saturday but rest for Sunday. This weekend I got into a minor car accident (a parked car....fml) and then spent almost 24 hours on a first date. 24 hours you say? Yeah...24 hours. Is that some kind of record? Unless the first date is like...an arranged marriage at which point it would kind of last until death...I think 24 hours is pretty respectable. So here goes the obligatory recap of the 24 hour first date.
It was.
I kid...I'll share a bit more. As it relates. But I'll also talk about my nice thing for the day. And I think...if I work this out correctly...the two are related.
So I've been reading and reflecting on 1 Corinthians a lot since the end of January. And everybody knows Paul's famous "love is not this love is that" speech. But I've been reading the entire book...and it's pretty decent. For Paul. I'm still learning to like him. Anyway. So today's text was from 1 Corinthians 2. It can be broken down as such...which was indeed the way the pastor went with today's sermon:
humans = human things
God = God things
The message boils down to the following...and I'm taking liberties with Paul's words but he can freaking deal: don't worry about figuring all the God stuff out because that's God's job. As humans our job is to merely trust and believe...because that's all we can do. We can't understand God...we can just love because that...is God.
I should so write a new Bible. According to Ashley. I may.
Also not the point. Enter the marathon first date. I did not have a date with God...but I did have a date that I sincerely like. I felt comfortable the whole time (except when some kid at the Chinese restaurant decided to torment and head butt me...joke's on him he ran into the wooden counter HA)...laughed...saw a creepy clown...a giant cow...went to Walmart to purchase a bed for me for the evening...played Mario...and through it all not once did I feel uncomfortable or anything other than content. Okay I mean...maybe the clown was too much. But that's just cause clowns are honestly terrifying.
So as I drove home on Saturday evening I didn't over analyze anything. In fact...I just kinda blissfully drove through the snow watching my little GPS and listening to We The Kings. Got home...took a shower...relaxed...called mom...slept. And then came this morning.
All of a sudden I went straight into "Ashley" mode and decided to pick apart every look and glance and joke and movement. Then I got in the shower...or my watery thinking box...and realized that I was, in fact, being ridiculous so I stopped thinking about it. Except for the clown...that shit is still haunting me.
I digress...enter the words of Paul. Love is a human thing...but it's also a divinely cosmic thing. And no...I'm not saying I'm in love...but in any kind of relationship (working, friends, romantic, sibling) there takes a certain amount of non-work. Yeah...I just made up a word and/or awesome phrase. You can't force somebody to like you or to connect with you or create chemistry or laugh with and not at you. I mean...I guess you could but then you also end up saying things like "it puts the lotion in the basket" and I don't have the underground space necessary for a that
I'm so okay with not "getting God" but when it comes to relationships I'm still soooooooooooo not there. So as I sat in church today...I realized that there's going to come a point where I'm going to need to relinquish the obsessive desire to make relationships make sense. Sometimes they just are or they just aren't...and nothing I can attempt to do or not do is going to change that. At this point in my life all I can do is be me and leave it to God or cupid or some old lady with a crystal ball to let me know whether or not a relationship is in my cards. I'm going to try and get out of my own head...and let somebody smarter and infinitely wiser than me do the thinking (which is why I'll be making a copious amount of phone calls to mommy and co...). Here's where saying my date "was" fits. Because I don't need to freak out over anything that happened or anything that didn't. All I need to know is that I had a pretty kick ass time. And the rest...I'll let somebody else figure out.
If this theory proves wrong...I'll be the first to let you know so you can resume freaking out over things that are just complex and stressful...bit I have a feeling that done properly...letting go is actually the first step to taking control.
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