Holding Space

There's a concept in woo land referred to as holding space. It's a bit vague really, but to hold space essentially means to wait. On a person, a situation, a thing you can't quite sort out which way to go, what words to speak or how to feel. It's a permission slip to just be rather than to know and act and it's quite important to those seeking to live the most intentional existence possible.

And it's hard.

The past two years of my life can be attributed a massive space holding. For me, my children and everyone affected by the huge flux named Divorce. There's no easy way to separate what was once one and no right way to determine which path is the correct one to traverse. You are walking blind because what you see isn't always what's there and what you feel can't always be trusted. You take it one day and one decision at a time hoping the ripple created by each change doesn't destroy what little is left of the foundation you are counting on to remain.

You are you. It's all you have left, but when you weren't quite sure who you were before it all toppled down the search to find who that is doesn't come easy. It's rocky, rough and painful. So you hold space for whoever it is that will emerge. Whatever will be.

It changes daily. Hourly. Hell, even minutes can change everything you know or knew to be true at some point. I can honestly say I had no clue who I was before and the journey to find that out has been the hardest one I've ever taken. So many voices offered their interpretations, advice, guidance and sometimes even just white noise to fill the empty spaces where no words would have helped. Knowing which to heed and which to mute is also a challenge not for the faint of heart. Everyone has an opinion.

And because I'm mentally healthy (says those professional type people who go to school for such things) I've realized I can trust mine; my opinion. I can trust my own perception of who I am, what I want and what I need. That being said, not everyone trusts that I can trust myself.

In the past few months especially, new people have come into my life and given me their perceptions of who I am. Most words have been flattering and uplifting, but there also comes a point where everything I am, to the very core of my being is mistrusted. My words filtered through experiences with the ghosts of the past misconstrued, eyed with suspicion and discounted as meaning what they mean. I ask a question for the simple intention of gathering more information and it's taken as an accusation. My needing to be very clear because with this many years under my belt aI am well aware of how socially inept I can be taken for doubt, mistrust and not hearing clearly. It's frustrating. Very frustrating. In a world where everyone is lying and pretending to be a version of themselves they can't quite manifest on the daily, being genuine and very, very real is seen with suspicion How incredibly confusing.

I've thought long and hard about learning to play the game. To follow the rules and blend in and I've come to the conclusion that I just cannot do it. I've never been able to and I certainly can't start now. My intensity might drive people away but it also draws those who matter even closer. My honesty might offend, but it also endears those on the path I am which is the path to living the best, most full life possible. I dont' need (or want) to play it safe when it comes to experiencing the unexpected, the divine, the delicious and even the scary. There are far too many holes in the ground holding the what-ifs in life, filled with regret and grown over with things not experienced, people not pursued and days lived in complacency. It's just not me. When I wake up each morning, it's a new start; a new beginning. It could be the first day of something absolutely amazing if I'm just paying attention.

The scariest thing about adding years to my timeline hasn't been the realization of my own physical mortality, but the awareness of those my own age who have already died emotionally, mentally and spiritually. They've gotten to this point and think "Okay that's it, I had my run with youth and the best there was from this lifetime, so now....this is it. This is what my reality and my life looks like from here on out." Nothing depresses me more. Day in and day out I see people giving up on big dreams, depriving the world of huge gifts, incredible love and limitless passion. Why? I just cannot understand it.

Perhaps I'm an idealist with goals way bigger than can possibly be met, but I can't stop. Not now. Is it childish to believe the impossible is still possible and every hope that's been firmly planted in my heart is there for a reason? Maybe. And maybe it's my duty, to myself, to believe even if no one that crosses my path will. It's space I'm holding for me and no one else and that's been the hardest lesson of all. No one's convictions are strong enough to reach anyone else and if they are, that's not consenual pursual of mutual beliefs, but coercion if you really think about it. You can't make someone believe the best is yet to come and that happiness is one decision away. They have to believe for themselves.

And I do. I truly do. I believe that regardless of circumstances, life is an open playing field where lessons are to be learned, dreams are to be realized, love is to be given and returned and marks are to be made. If we submit to trusting the process, we are gifted the abilty to re-invent ourselves daily, becoming a better version of ourselves today than we were yesterday. Life is so incredibly, beautifully and breathtakingly precious. It's made to be lived and experienced, not survived and witnessed.

So each day, I'm holding space. For myself, For those I haven't yet met who will teach me something, for those I have and may circle back around to finish the business we started but abandoned and for those who have always been around and become more deeply woven into the fabric of my life's story one day at a time. For everything that has been and everything that will be. I've never been more aware of how important each day is, each decision, each opportunity and after many stumbles and downright, full on crashes, I'm picking myself back up, shaking off the dust and allowing the process to happen. To just....happen. Not easy, not comfortable and certainly not typical "Melissa" but necessary.

Who knows where it will lead?

Dear Future Husbands (And wives)

Someday, if you're lucky and/or crazy, you, young man, might jump in to the biggest commitment imaginable: Marriage. An interesting union, for sure, this marriage thing, both blessing and curse and always tipping more towards one than the other any given day. And it's hard.

You enter in with hopes and dreams and an expectation that this other person, this girl, will fill every want, need and desire and for a time, she will. That's what being a newlywed is all about. It's new. It's flawless and easy. Exciting, yet comforting and it seems as though the entire world entered into existence just to allow this manifestation of perfect love.

Then life happens. And when life happens things will change. She will change. And you have to change with her.

Love her with every turn and she will love you. Support her in every struggle and she will support you. Embrace her flaws and she'll giggle, lovingly, at yours. It really is that easy. Let her be her and you will find yourself enjoying a new version of your lovely lover, each incarnation more exciting than the last.

Don't keep her from her passions because that fire inside her will keep you warm, even hot (if you know what I mean) Let her shine bright (yes, even without you) and you'll never be in the dark. Let her break down so you can help build her back up and don't make it about you. It's not (usually).

Don't compete with your kids for you wife's attention, rather compete with your wife for your kids attention and you'll always have hers.

But don't compete with her otherwise because you are two part of a whole. When she's weak, be strong. When she's strong, be humble.

Don't ask her to give up her life for yours. Her friends for yours. Her family for yours. SHE MATTERS.

Don't take more than you're willing to give, give more.

Don't own her, own you. Own all of you and let her do the same. That way each offering of yourself to each other is a gift, not an obligation.

Let her have her own favorite color, music, movie, food.....Yes, really. She doesn't have to like what you like for you to like it. Remember this.

Have and hold....not smother and consume. Until death do you part...don't kill her (figuratively and definitely not literally) because once dead inside, she has nothing to lose.

Be a witness to her growth, not her imperfections.

Value her.

Cherish her.

Listen, learn and grow.

No means no EVEN after I do (it wasn't a perpetual yes; let that sink in HARD)

Love isn't hard dudes. It's not. You do it for yourself every single day. So it's easy. Treat her like that. Or better.

And if you screw it up, on any day, say I'm sorry as fast as you can and mean it. And by mean it, don't repeat the thing you just said sorry for.

Give her grace and space and room and love.

Even if....

IF.....

She doesn't do the same....because at the end of the day.

You live with you.

And there exists no divorce from yourself outside death.

Choose wisely. Or choose blindly. It's up to you.

Jump in. Jump in with everything you have.....

Or don't jump in at all.

A Cat in a Bag

And I guess it's out. For some. Some knew a little of the battle raging inside my four walls over the last few months and some know it's been almost a decade long war. True story.

With things like these you never know where to begin, but I knew I had to start somewhere because things that are very, very wrong fester in secrecy and rather than lose my mind, I started to share a bit here and there with my closest people. The problem is bits here and there had people giving ALL sorts of advice. "Oh you need counseling" (been there done that) "Well you need a different counselor" (we've had four now) "You really need to take this to God" (Oh God knows, believe you me.) That is maddening. Like we have crossed every T and dotted every I and we were just waiting for those who barely know us, or our situation, to drop that one pearl of wisdom that will FIX IT ALL. Sorry, folks it doesn't work like that.

So let's talk. What the HELL is going on? What was that post about anyways? Well, it's about my life. It's about years and years of chasing the carrot of approval and never catching it. Trying every which way to please a person who wanted things that were altogether impossible. And a waking up. Not some big epiphany really, but a moment in time. On a porch, talking to a girlfriend, covering the mouthpiece of the phone hoping she didn't hear the epic tantrum my spouse was having because I was on the phone, with a friend, after BEDTIME.

But lest you feel sorry for me, let me share some facts with you. I'm a bull headed, strong willed, competent and well rounded woman. I don't mope, cry, whine or live a joyless existence. My house is obnoxiously loud with laughter, crude jokes and happiness. Because I chose it. Because I found it hidden in the nooks and crannies of life and held on to those joys like a life raft. That's what they were. My life blood. My children. My yarny pursuits. My yard, lush and green and animals doing their pain in the ass animal things. Facebook. Memes. Smart ass friends. My life is full. I'm good. I really am in a place of joy and contentment in my life.

And that's largely because I let go. I FINALLY LET GO. I finally looked my reality square in the eye and said "Well it is what it is and it's his, not mine and I can't change, fix or manipulate it."

I sat with someone I knew, who was recommending a "better marriage counselor" after I explained I wouldn't go back because I wasn't the problem. WE weren't the problem. HE was the problem. Sounds arrogant right? In any marriage, if there's a problem it MUST be both parties causing it right? The short and correct answer is NO. When one spouse is controlling and abusive there isn't one damn thing the other can do to create a permanent peace because the second you show any humanity, you've screwed up once again. The second you say anything not on the script, you get the punishment. The punishment in my case is either the silent treatment or an hours long "talk" about all the ways I have failed to show love in the "correct way." It can be hard to wrap your mind around what this looks like if you've never lived it. And it takes YEARS to see that there's a cycle, a pattern, to it...and the offenses are never unique. It's the same thing over and over and over again.

But I'm not here to school anyone on what is and isn't abuse. It's not my place. I'll put it very simply that if someone is consistently up your ass with complaints about normal human things you do...if there is a cycle of freakout, apology, promises, calm....and if that calm can only be maintained by acting a very specific way, there's a problem. If you are given consequences for stepping out of line, that's not okay. Conversely if you are expected to reward loving gestures with anything more than a "thank you, I really appreciate that..." also not okay.

Details are just gossip and some aren't mine to share. They aren't my confessions to decide to give or not, so I leave out details. They don't matter. But I'm disappointed. In so many people. I tried to share some of what was happening and I got a whole lot of super not helpful feedback. And I suppose that's the point of saying anything at all. Because the ONE person (who I barely knew really) who helped me listened objectively and was the first voice to say "Okay, take a step back and ask yourself honestly....can I say this to him and not face retaliation. Do I feel scared? Do I feel safe?" That person also lost a lot of people who just couldn't quite handle the reality of what she ACTUALLY experienced.

I've had messages today. I've had feedback. There is some respect being thrown Jamie's way for "getting it out there" but even in that....there's manipulation. How you ask? Because I let him know last night I could no longer keep this to myself anymore. I needed a stronger support system to keep myself mentally healthy during his wild swings back and forth. And so he beat me to it. Despite not using Facebook much at all, he had to "confess." I'll say I appreciate the sentiment, but it's after years of hell and after painting me in a very negative light to many, many people including co-workers, friends and his individual counselor. It's a new trick from an old sleeve and I've seen similar moves before. I've been through intense counseling where everything was agreed upon and worked on, only to have my ass handed to me months later for saying "Remember, the counselor said we should...." It only stuck for as long as perceived benefits outweighed the effort and when there was no reward for doing the right thing, the right thing was no longer appealing. I pull no punches anymore. I can't. I cannot live in nor support an environment that will teach my son's to act like spoiled 2 year olds or my daughters to walk on eggshells with the man they commit to. Enough is enough.

Silence has its place at times. Covering another's flaws can be loving or it can be fatal. When it kills YOU, it's not longer about respect and giving the other person space to change. There are a million reasons to brush things under the rug and I've ran through them all. I could make this blog go on for hours listing every single grievance I have, but that's not me. I don't have to destroy another person to get anyone on my side because quite frankly if you don't trust me enough to believe my story, I don't need you in my life. I know what I've seen, heard, endured and lived with. I know what I've done, what I've tried, what I've sorted through. And today, right here, right now I know I've given it all I have (and then some) I also know I have the best wishes for my husband as I know the path he's chosen is empty. He could force and coerce compliance for years. It was easy. But empty. The thing about love is, without it flowing from a natural state of mutual trust, admiration, affection and adoration, it's not love. It's routine. And the world has SO MUCH MORE TO OFFER than that.

I have no idea from day to day what the rest of my life will hold. I wake up and I love my babies and my big kids and my home and just bask in the peace that my daytime holds. No worries, no drama, no disappointing anyone, no silent treatment for asking nasty comments to stop. I've become who I need to be through fire. I've sat in the silence and been very honest with myself "what is my part....am I doing what's necessary?" In the end I have to live with ME. Along the way I have made good friends who know my heart; the good, the bad and the ugly. I have people who help me sort out the common husband/wife friction from the "Oh Melissa, that is just NOT okay....are you SERIOUS???" stuff. And so far we have approximately 10 years of weekly conflict that follows the same script. The EXACT same script. I found a letter written to me a little over 8 years ago that apologized for the same offenses, the same words, the same accusations and a promise to "not ever do that again. I've seen the light now. I know better now." And I wept. I wept for all the hope I felt reading those so many years ago. The hope that THIS TIME we'd get it right and I'd do the thing that finally made him happy and I'd not have to apologize for every thing I had failed at, once again.

Last night it happened again. And last week. And the week before. I did something wrong (I asked for him to stop making stupid comments about my breasts, especially in front of the boy going through puberty who is embarrassed by everything BEWB. I asked nicely and only after the third night in a row of such commentary), I was punished with the silent treatment, then a tirade, then apology, then message after message, then a begging to forgive, then a critique of how I wasn't forgiving correctly or nicely enough, then a declaration that the marriage was finished, then another declaration that if I said different words with a different tone the marriage would definitely be saved immediately, a veiled suicide hint, anger, accusation, "fine you're right I'm wrong, you are just perfect aren't you...." and finally a sulking off to bed while I stayed up with our newborn. This is my life. And this is my line in the sand. I won't go through it anymore. I won't engage in conflict that isn't calm, respectful and logical. I won't hug and say "awww that's okay" when we've clearly not made any headway on the root issues. I will not continue to spend hours on my porch, while I attend to the fragile emotions of a man who should be helping get our kids in bed, but instead sulks for hours about how hurt he is that I said a comment bothered me. I will not accept, any longer, that I am responsible for HIS EMOTIONS. (P.S. I just had a baby y'all...I didn't even get a chance to get my hard won postpartum break down. I was too busy attending to his) I cannot control how anyone else feels. I can say what I need to say with respect, a soft and kind voice, with a disclaimer "I know you may see it differently, but I'd like to share how it makes me feel..." but if I am not allowed to say ANYTHING that doesn't fall within certain parameters....without receiving the silent treatment, there's really no point in speaking at all.

The very few times I've tried to get some advice, some help, some back up, I've been made to feel like I'm being ridiculous but I won't accept that ANYMORE. I KNOW that if a man spoke to my daughter like this, I'd clean the floor with with tush and if any of my sons EVER spoke this way, a similar situation would go down. NO MATTER WHAT you need to say, you CAN say it nicely. No matter what the conflict, you do NOT NEED to belittle or threaten the other person. Every person in a relationship, a unit, a family, should have equal voice. They should be heard. No one else, outside of you, gets to dictate what does and doesn't make you uncomfortable at anytime and it took me 36 years to absorb that truth.

I know Jamie is working hard on looking within himself. He's been in counseling for months. We did joint counseling for months. Unfortunately the root is yet to be killed. It keeps growing back. It keeps coming back around. It was his decision to put it out there, in hopes that uncovering it would make it harder to fall back into. We shall see. But knowing what I know.....I am not banking on it. That might sound harsh and defeating, but statistics aren't in our favor. For 16 1/2 years he's had a very different wife. One that would quit something she loved if he expressed disapproval, one that would stay home all day, every day rather than form outside relationships that made him "sad." No more. I will not quit the things that I love because he doesn't understand them (mainly Matthew's Gift). I have always taken excellent care of our children and our home and HIM. I have never done anything that threatened our homeschooling, our children being nurtured and invested in or caused our house to completely implode (explode at time, but we won't talk about that) I will not apologize for a once weekly phone call with a girlfriend after the kids are in bed. I will not apologize for playing in makeup with my teens and wearing a nice new dress. I WILL give that look now when he's taking over my OB appointment talking about his ailments. I will be that woman that wants to be treated with the respect I've poured into this thing my whole life. Because I want that for my kids and I can no longer hide the truth from them. They have their own opinions and they aren't shy in sharing them. I am rather proud that they (mostly) share their views with respect for authority without FEAR of authority. They know they matter and that's a huge win in my book.

And I will not humiliate him or my children by giving every nitty gritty detail. I've been asked. I have seriously been asked "So what's so bad that you feel that way...." and when I don't spill or just give a very general overview "Oh well that's not that bad....really...." DISGUSTING. And nope.

Prayers are great and we welcome them. But we do not believe that everything is a happily ever after. Just because prayer and God are involved doesn't mean you get the outcome you want. Can God heal anything? Yep. Does he? Nope. "Hold on...." Yep. Done that. For longer than anyone reading this knows.

And I will find joy in every day. Life IS good. It has been. Parts have sucked but not all. That girl you "see" online....making ridiculous jokes...that really is me. That's not fake . That is who and what I am and even the suck doesn't cloud that. And even that is an exercise in independence because my joy in all things has been a long standing grievance. On good days, he loves my joyful heart. On bad days my joy is just more proof that I don't love him because if I didn't I couldn't possible have any joy knowing how horrible his life is.

And so the cat gallops gleefully out of the bag. And so it is finished......and so it begins.....

Sweet Dreams?

Alright, my wise doctor decided that since I'm pregnant, I need to sleep sometimes.  Preferably every night and preferably for more than like 3 hours.  And I've tried.  Oh yes, I have.  Counting sheep won't work because if y'all know me, I'm all examining the fiber quality of each one that jumps the fence wondering if maybe I really should get a spinning wheel.  Because I'm pregnant and responsible and because Nyquil even when not gestating a human knocks me on my ass, a glass of wine isn't an option either.

So he suggests....FOUR benadryl every night.  Uhm, 'cuse me?  WHAT?  FOUR?  Two make me feel like Dopey and Grouchy's love child so there was no way in hell I was taking four.  I tried two.  I got sleepy and then it felt like I had WWIII going on between my legs (OMG, I seriously just read that back...that sounds bad.  So bad I simply must keep it here to give all the other sick, twisted minds out there a giggle.)  But what I MEAN (you sicko) is that my legs just fight each other and themselves for hours after the benadryl kicks in, which I think is restless leg syndrome, but if I had to name it I'd call it "cut off your legs so you can sleep" disorder.  All around SUCK.  So....next attempt to do that sleep thing was Unisom.

Oh.  My God.  Is Unisom derived from 'shrooms or what, because y'all my dreams on that crap are CRAZY.

And we aren't talking the typical naked in front of a classroom, falling from a hot air balloon or running circles crazy.  I'm talking so weird that I can't even remember enough details in a logical order to explain them after I wake even though in my slumber it all makes sense and I'm fine and dandy with all the psycho crap happening.  I am SO OVER IT.

My kiddos love to sit around and talk about their dreams and what they mean, which by the way is apparently a science or some shiz, but I have no idea where to even start with mine.  Lots of airplanes, lots of weird shiz falling from the sky, doomsday, while I'm over there still knitting like "Eh, just a few more rows before the end of the world, I'm good."

I don't think I'll find that here but whatever
Is there anyone out there that can give me some very serious suggestions on how to get to sleep and stay alsleep without falling down rabbit holes of weirdness or wanting to perform my own amputatoin cause y'all I AM SO TIRED!! HELP?!!?!?

UFO? You mean awesome. pre-started project right?

It starts with an apology usually.  "And yeah, I have a ton of UFOs" lamets the yarn artist, apologizing for his or her obvious failure to take that project from A to Z in one sitting.  Pffft.  Get real.  UFO?   You mean awesome pre-started project right??

Let's have a little chat about this shall we?  Let's get logical for a minute because y'all know that's where I feel most comfortable.

First, why are we apologizing for not meeting some standard no one actually put on us?  Are we doing this for a JOB?  (If you are, get on it girl, don't make that customer wait!!)  If we are making stuff for the pleasure of making stuff, or even to make something we need eventually, let's lose the apologies for not doing in on sweatshop timelines.  Live long and enjoy the process.

Secondly, technically any project you start is a UFO the second it's begun, so the stigma of having even one UFO is silly.  To get philosophical, even WE, ourselves, are unfinished objects and there's beauty in that.

But lastly, and my favorite part of UFOS, specifically a massive quantity of them is the aforementioned "awesome, pre-started project."  I LOVE looking through my yarn [-]hoard[/-] er, stash and finding all sorts of stuff I started and abandoned out of boredom.  It's like "Oh wow, what a cool project.  BONUS, it's already started.  Hey look at that, this new awesome project is like 75% done."  So really, it's like WIP Christmas.  Right?

I no longer feel guilty about stuff I've started and left behind for later.  It's like leftovers, but with yarn and leftoevers are always awesome right?

Today's revisited UFO started back before Christmas....

Something kind like this:

But with my own little spin :)  This one will take a long, long time.  And I'm okay with packing it away when I get sick of the green monochromaticness of it all.  

Long live the UFOS.  A yarnies opportunity to make something awesome in itty bitty stages and cheers to the all the UFOs out there lingering in storage boxes waiting to be rediscovered as "awesome pre-started projects!"

My Poor Orphaned Blog

You know how you start something and dedicate yourself to doing it very regularly...then that old four letter word inserts itself into your best intentions and screws it all up??

LIFE

Yup.

But life also demands the cathartic nature of writing if you're a writer, even if you can't yet articulate everything you need to write about.  Life changes so fast and furiously sometimes and you don't even know how to do the basic things anymore, let alone put a bunch of words in any logical order.

So I guess I'll break it down.  I still have kids and stitches.  As a matter of fact, my 10th little bean will arrive in the next few weeks.  This time around it was a bit of a shock which probably makes most people laugh, but it's true.  There was some active prevdention happening, but I suppose fate had other ideas.

Since my last blog I've started a charity Matthew's Gift which donates boxes of infant memorial items to loss parents.  We made our first official donation on Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day and are slowly reaching out to the community more and more to give parents the gift of dignity for their stillborn babies.  I'm still trucking along with my Jamberry business and loving that (for the most part!!)  I've traveled to Austrailia and back home again and have started a few new projects that are still in development but super exciting.

On the yarn front, my most loved project right now is my "Opus" recycled sweater blanket.  I spent over a year collecting merino and cashmere blend sweaters from thrift stores and they have been carefully processed and wound into balls of watercolor beauty.  It's the warmest blanket I've ever touched and I absolutely adore each minute I work on it.  I chose the Attic 24 Neat Ripple because it's simple and easy!

So very warm and cozy!!  Of course I'm working on a couple things for the "new one baby" (that is SO cute and not sure where it came from, but all the kids are calling him that.  Yes, it's a boy!!)

Farm life has been absolutely devastating.  Our three Nigerian Dwarfs had their first babies from the new buck.  All three delivered triplets.  The first birthing only saw one survivor out of 6.  The last to give birth had one stillborn, with the second dying within the week and the next being fatally wounded by our male Pygora during a nursing visit with Mom.  It has been absolutely crushing and I haven't fared well emotionally during all this.  Having babies on a farm is the best part and seeing such loss has really been a blow on my heart.  We've decided to ixnay on the goats for now.  We simply have too much going on to keep up with it and we are all very tired of the, well, bullshit, associated with having them.  We plan to sell them soon.  I guess part of being a grown up is knowing your limits!!

Yarn.  OMG.  I have bought SO MUCH YARN in the past couple months.  Knit Picks Black Friday deal brought over 300 skeins into my house, then Little Knits about 100 and Goodwill, eh, we won't talk about that.  But no, I haven't gone yarn hoarder.  Getting yarn into the hands of volunteers for Matthew's Gift has been a something important to me and the price point of $1 or less per skein makes it really cost effective, so when the sales hit, I jumped.  I have a handful of steady volunteers that enjoy the work and I am so blessed to have them.  Unfortunately I have also had a few people take large boxes of yarn and just disappear, ignoring all messages asking for progress.  Live and learn and then create a system that still allows me to give yarn to volunteers on a trial basis until they prove they will actually return it in the form of finished items.  I still have a hard time with the injustice of anyone taking from a charity, especially in light of what we are doing, but I have to let those people live with that choice.  

For now, life really is in a HUGE flux and I have no clue where it's going anymore.  So much has changed, so much is happening, so many choices and decisions laid before me and the idea of taking each day one at a time has never been more poignant.  The balance between happiness and sacrifice is a hard one to strike and lately I look at it all and just sigh.  There's only so much compromise a person can make before they are no longer the person they actually are, you know what I mean?  

Since writing is the place I can actually find that person, that I am, it's pretty important to start it up again, even into the wild blue yonder of blogging to the unknown world out there.  Just the act of spitting words out is healing, so hopefully in that, there will be a small measure of peace and comfort.

How is everyone out there?? What are YOU up to??

Through Who's Looking Glass?

We just rolled back into Augusta after a whirlwind trip to Atlanta....fangirls, concert, exhaustion.  In that order.  The hotel we stayed in was one of those swanky deals with valet parking, bellhops and $6 bottles of water via room service.  Also, mirrored elevators where you stood there, feeling queasy not just at the upward movement of the people moving, but the reflection staring back at you.  OMG, I look like that?!?!  To avoid my own hideous reflection, I looked at my daughters, who I know are adorable and perfect and they looked all weirdo too, which was somewhat of a relief.  You really expect mirrors to be honest you know?  They should be....they are supposed to be a reflection of what you actually look like and in this case, at least in the case of my gorgeous girls, that mirror had it all wrong.  Me? If I really do look like that, I need some help because it was scary.  Very scary.

But I was still me.  I still laughed at the same weird things (Like looking like an Oompa Loompa.  All vanity aside, that shiz was funny)  I was still Mom to those three girls standing there with me....still carrying my 31 overnight bag I absolutely love, with knitting tucked inside. No matter what the mirror was reflecting back at me...it was still me...

I've never been to a carnival, but I am familiar with the house of mirrors.  The walk through every kind of reflection possible.  The stretched out, tall and skinny...short and fat, warped faces, bodies, perceptions...and you know what?  It may just be the most honest place on earth...that hall of mirrors. Because we really do see ourselves like that.  All of it.  We see ourselves as less than, as more than, as beautiful, hideous...and we look...constantly at ourselves.  Constantly.  Always concerned with not only what reflection WE see, but how others see us.  Depending on the person you can be any version of yourself.  

Have you ever been around someone you feel beautiful around no matter what you actually look like?  They SEE you.  Beyond the hair, the perfect eyeliner, the cute dress.  They look at you in ratty yoga pants, hair up in a messy bun with part of your sandwich still on your face and just SEE you.  Hear you.  Feel you.  Conversely, have you ever been in a room.....dressed to the nines..and felt like the ugliest, stupidest, least valuable person in the room?  You could have checked the mirror a million times before you left, completely satisfied with your appearance only to see something devastating in the women's room mirror when you arrive.  Your hair is all wrong, your dress not fancy enough....you should have known....you aren't good enough to be there...But you're still you.  

You are still you.

Flip it around now. You know...you know when you look in the mirror that some changes need made.  Everything looks just perfect, but it's only the surface of who you are that's reflecting back at you .  You....are still you.  You are still struggling with every heartbreak you've ever buried being unearthed.  Every hurt you convinced yourself you didn't feel ripping open and bleeding  You are still you when everyone around you tries to convince you that because the surface is fine, the rest is too....and even when they don't want to see you for who you really are....you are still you.

You are still you.

You are still the person who doesn't understand why anyone can see what you see...your heart, your emotion, your life...no one knows what you do....so they can't possibly convince you of what...of who...you actually are.

But they try.

They try....

"Well at least..." 

"Well if it were me..."

"Well if I had that...I'd...."

And you want to scream STOP.  This is my life.  This is my story and my pen, my paper, my choice and unless you were part of writing any of the previous chapters you can't possibly know what made the cut when editing the bookstore copy.   

So you decide. Done. No more.  No more opinions about what the mirror is actually reflecting back. No more.  Because it never mattered.  Ever.  Keeping up appearances for anyone else, anyone...ever..is a waste of time, energy and life.  There's nothing beautiful about masks....

Not only do you stop comparing yourself to others, you start refusing theirs to you. No, my life is not perfect.  Yes, I have something you want....you have about 17 things I want....and about 100 I don't.  That's the raw, ugly truth.  You no longer allow anyone to compete with you on anything.  Ever.  If someone needs to, let them win because they aren't there yet...in that place where they realize no two human beings should ever compete, compare, contrast who they are with who you are and decide one's the winner.  It's a distraction.  A massive eye off the ball because wanting to be someone else will forever keep you from wanting to be yourself.  

And you are enough.  Every human is a self-contained work of art, a masterpiece, a wonder of biology and spirituality and magic....in every mirror, in every reflection....every glance, thought, breath...you compete only with you....

Only with you....

And at being you?  You always win.  

Battle Scars

Just to the left of my right knee cap is an ugly scar.  Though it's faded over the years, I see it every time I smooth my legs with the razor or apply lotion.  It was a deep cut received from a youthful couch jumping episode while at a friends house....some kind of wire sticking out.  It gashed my leg brilliantly and the evidence remains.

Scars are funny things, really.  They are an outward proof of something we've endured and healed from.  They tell a story, our story and are a visible reminder that some choices have consequences that cannot be erased.

The biggest hurt I have ever endured left no lasting physical reminder.  My abdomen already bore the scars of having sacrificed vanity for motherhood.  Those scars that tell how much I had to stretch both physically and emotionally are worn with pride (and under clothes, thank you very much!!)  So nothing about my body changed when I lost Matthew.  This is probably why, so many  years later, I'm ready for his initial to be placed on my body permanently.  I need that scar, that reminder, that visible thing to say "hey, he was here...."

Scar tissue is only formed when an injury occurs deeper than the first layer of skin.  Surface hurts don't have any lingering reminders.  It's the ones that cut deep, very deep, that remain.  But sometimes the ones that cut the deepest aren't physical.  Instead of blood, tears.  Instead of stitches, grief.  Instead of seeing a change from injury to recovery, we get stuck in the cycle of brokenness that leaves us more comfortable being shattered than finding the pieces will no longer fit if we try to put them back together.

I was off duty one evening when my then only child woke from his slumber and wanted a drink.  I had been quilting and had my rotary cutter out.  It took two seconds. I was filling his sippy cup as he was grabbing the cutter and in a split second, with both our hands on it, it brushed the bridge of his nose.  The tears, both his and mine, were plentiful and to this day, a scar remains.  Every time I look at it, I feel remorse.  Oh, the things I would have done differently to take that scar away.  But I can't,  I certainly did learn from it.  No child has ever repeated that injury because I replaced the cheap cutter with a locking one, that I keep up 6 feet, out of reach and when in use, the door is locked (Yeah, I tend to go overboard. It's my MO)

Of all the scars, the absolute worst isn't the deep gashes that require a million stitches and dressing changes or even surgery.  The worst are the memory banks of those who saw us at our worst and won't let us forget it.  Even after we've healed, moved on and learned from the injury, those that remain to remind us of those scars, happy to rip them open time and time again as we are healing.  They hold us accountable (sometimes rightfully so, sometimes not) for our actions, but not their failure to keep us from injury in the first place.  They saw us holding the cutter and just stood back and watched to see what we'd do....

Healing is a funny thing.  It has to come from within, not from without.  Even though it's the outward appearance we find so concerning, the real damage from any injury is more than merely cosmetic.  Infection, improper healing and a constant abrasion of that hurt can guarantee it never heals.  That we never heal.  And so often its those who should be promoting healing that just don't want to....can't stand to...see it happen.  Because healing happens alone.  The injuries cannot be experienced by another, so neither can the healing.  It's one situation where help doesn't help, but harm really harms and so you walk that line trying to make people think they have some part of you getting better....but really.....it's all you.  It has to be.  No one can heal for you.

But...they can show you its possible. They can flash an ugly scar on the left side of their right knee cap and say 'Hey, this sucks and holy hell did it hurt. But it doesn't hurt anymore.  I survived it and it healed just fine.  You will too."  They can also take one look at that scar, that's been present for  years and say "Hey, how'd you get that you moron.  You should have known better.  I bet you have more all over your body with the kind of stupid you are..."  And even though that scar was fine seconds before, you will feel it all over again....

Life is too short to keep ripping scars open, or allowing anyone else to.  Love is leaving healed hurts alone, respecting the work it took to get through the pain and the process and letting what happened in the past keep it's address on the timeline and not asking it to come visit for a week or two.  Love is lightly brushing over those scars during a backrub and standing in awe the person made it through the injury with a story to tell and a lesson learned, not a prompt to chastise the person for having gotten it in the first place.

Battle scars...we all have 'em.  Some more, some less, but not one of us escapes this thing called life without a few of them.  The trick is to wear them with grace, to allow them to be a part of your story.....but not your whole story.  A page, or two...even a whole chapter, but not the cover to cover reality of the person you are and the person you've become because of them.  We learn, we grow, we change and evolve and it's largely because of those injuires and our ability to heal from them that we even have a story to tell at all....

So what's yours?

In care, concern and in the name of healing,.....

I've sat down to write this blog no less than 7 times.  The words came but they were ugly, harsh and not representative of what is really going on here, but even still....a month later I'm at a loss.  I'll begin with a few snippets of previous attempts to get this all out.....

The papers are signed and on their way.  Formalities, dealt with and so I drive home, business taken care of.

It is finished.

But now it begins.  Now we get down to the heart of the matter.  We get down to what this has meant. To me, to all of us.

First, let's clear something up. Our loyalties were never to you.  Ever.  Our loyalties were first and foremost to....

Matthew, Ronald Kent, Ellie, Ceilidh, Alexus, Courtney, Owen, Carly, Zoey,  Kaitlyn and Teagan, Holden, Karina........

Do you even know who they are?  These are our children who lived and died before we could even meet them and we pledged, in those moments where we were grasping that we'd have to live our entire lives without them to make their existence matter; to make them known and no matter how quickly you dismissed their lives with your disgusting pride and ego, we have no regrets.

Unlike you we can still walk with our heads held high.  Unlike you, we didn't need to have our names plastered across our "care and concern."  We gave it because we actually cared.  It wasn't a currency for us. We needed nothing in return but the knowledge that what we were doing was good and would help heal the hearts of parents getting ready to walk a path we knew. We didn't want to sell a tour, we wanted to give the map freely.  You charged for admission, we paid it in full, of our own volition,

Our babies died once and we did what we did to honor their memory and you stole that from us.  You took our babies and used them for money.  How could you? You fucking asshole. Seriously?  Who does that?

Once the f bomb was dropped I felt a *little* better....but, then I erased the rest because that particular word took over....and that's not who I am.....And here's another.... 

In care, concern and the name of healing....

Really?  Who's?  Who do you care about?

You.

Who are you concerned about?

You.

Who's healing are you promoting?  Your own. 

See, the thing is, you were never the guardian of anyone's healing.  You appointed that title to yourself. No one voted you in. You just pushed your way in. You created a monopoly on grief and have sat firmly on your throne for years. After all, without any accountability, is easy to maintain a reputation as being pious and benevolent isn't it?  If anyone says any differently, just give 'em the boot and in your sickeningly sweet passive-aggressive way, bullshit the masses into believing you are protecting them.  Right? 

You know what that is?  It's sick.  It's abusive.  It's disgusting and my God, it's wrong. You lie behind closed doors, you lie behind the people who are so convinced of your goodness, they won't ask questions.  We all know what happens when someone disagrees with you.  That's simply not allowed.

I want you to really let this sink into that sick, twisted brain of yours. You have lied to every single person you have come into contact with.  What does that say about you?  It can only be one of two things.

One, you justify that lying in the name of "healing."  You keep facts back from people who need them because you view yourself as further along in the process and thus, have the authority to make those decisions for the people who trust you.  You know what?  We don't need another lie to take up space in our lives.  We've told ourselves one too many already by the time we found you.  That we'd be okay, that it was no big deal, that the world would understand what it means to parent a child from the grave.

I was stuck, quite literally.....in every way imaginable and I wasn't alone.  Multiple other people were stuck in the quicksand of grief, unable to eat, sleep, function, while you posted your happy little vacation pictures and pretended we didn't exist.  Something you're really, really good at.

And then it hit me.  Denial is your MO.  You are stuck in it.  In the first stage of grief.  Should we then pity you?  Maybe, but I can't find it anywhere.  Not for you. Not even a little.

Here's the thing, lady.  You are hurting grieving parents.  You have created an atmosphere where you encourage dependency on YOU.  Everything about your little empire says "You need ME." But you know what?  We don't.  We need each other.  We found each other.  You are wholly, completely unequivocally unnecessary and you can't stand that, but you know it's true.  

You have lied to the people who gave their all.  You have lied about everyone and everything you have touched.  And you have to live with that.  

A dear friend told me I can't change your mind.  I can't make you do the right thing.  I can't.  You have to live with yourself day in and day out and the level of dishonesty you must carry around with you is burden enough.

As for us.  All of us....we are moving forward with the one lesson we can take from this disgusting situation.  To never, ever, ever, ever be anything like you.  Ever.  

May you find the love, care and concern somewhere along the way.....but for now we'll call it like we see it....

Bullshit.  

Converse, Size 13, Red Please

The ride home took about seven minutes.  Test results in hand, I think we both knew what the other was thinking.  We'd done all we could and left the rest up to you and the decision was made.  Those numbers matter and while you can't quite understand it yet, it was largely on you TO understand it and do better.

College-bound or no.  We've had this discussion 17 million times and you've morphed from resistant to angry to accepting to agreeable.  We all had the same goal in mind.  Play those numbers and play 'em to win.

Over the past year, we've seen you grow in maturity and understanding, wisdom and grace and as you've grown more into who you're going to be, we've done the same.

Being your parent is hard.

Beautifully, wonderfully, agonizingly hard.....and not because of YOU, but because of us.

You see, son, we want the best for you.  We want every breath you take to filled with passion and purpose and we sought that goal from the day you were born!

From the video tapes with classical music with black, white and red shapes floating across the screen to classes specifically geared towards screen-writing for your budding video passion, every move has been to help you become the person we KNEW  you could become.

And you have.

It just doesn't look like we thought it would.  And what we just realized tonight, for the first time, is we've parented you with this odd combination of both hope and fear.  Hope that you'd do all the right things and fear you'd do it all wrong and yet tonight we're left wondering who's actually been right and wrong all along.

You live with this passion and gusto.  Self-motivated.  Kind.  Caring.  Genuine.  Loving.  Creative. Inspiring. Tenacious.

Every single thing we hoped and prayed for.  You are everything we are, but better.  Times a thousand.  You don't let fear of the unknown cloud out your hope of the same and I think we forgot how powerful that can be because we were taught to be very afraid.

We've tried instill this desire to make this one go around on the planet worth your while, to be the best you can be and I think we missed it actually happening because we were so worried that it didn't look like what we thought it should look like and truth be known, a little afraid of what "they" would think if we became fully vested in allowing a man-child to pursue a passion that takes him down the path of HUGE resistance.

But it's not your job to walk in my shoes or down any of the paths we've chosen.  They're your shoes and your life and they are some pretty big damn shoes (and hip to boot!)

So while we totally expect you to maintain your responsibility to society at large (you know, schoolwork, chores, family relationships...) we accept your choice to give your passion all you got.  We can't be those people who say we're about living outside the box and then systematically force you into our own.  We can't truly believe that God makes us who we are and then ask you to be someone else's version of the perfect child just for the sake of looking the part of the the perfect parent.

You aren't and neither are we.

There is no line drawn that can't be erased and no path that can be doubled back on.  Not yet.  You're young and with that comes a certain ability to be a little braver, stronger and smarter than us old folk who got so busy worrying we stopped dreaming.

Don't stop.  Not yet :)

Go for it.

Love,

A mom who will  never be sure I'm doing the right thing, but tonight I'm more sure than I've ever been.

Surprise Me....Not!

Please and thank you.

So, my anniversary has come and gone.  There was much anticipation about this day because the "surprise" lingered for days and weeks (it seemed.)  There were hints and more hints and everyone was in on it but me....... and you know what?

I hated it.  Hated it.  Me and surprises?  Nope.  Hate them.

And I know it's odd, but to me surprises feel like a betrayal.  Everyone is in on this thing that you are left out of and then you are supposed to be all happy and give just the right reaction when really you want to be like "Really? I had no input, no say so and I've said I hate surprises no less than a million times.....so really who is this for??"

Seriously, Jamie could come home and tell me that we're all going to Paris, everything arranged, all needs met, all cares attended to and my reaction would be?  Fury.

I'm a horrible person.  I know it.

My husband was trying to do something lovely for me.  But he included other people in on its and left me out of it.  To "surprise me" and my reaction was appropriate until I had to be honest the next day that it really hurt me to have communicated time and again that I hate being surprised and to have him, time and again, not listen.

However, all things that happen....yes, I analyze them to death and this was no different.  I asked him to listen and we talked.  I asked him to really think about why it was okay to gift someone something you have already been made aware they will not enjoy. In a relationship with two people if only one person enjoys what is happening (in any case) that's no longer a relationship.  All things being equal who bears the burden to change?  The person who is doing the thing the other person hates or the person who hates the thing being done?  Is it my burden to get over it and/or lie about the thing, or his burden to not do it?  I poured out my concerns that I was being unfair and unkind by not enjoying this surprise (or any surprises) because I recognized the intention as pure and good.....but with knowledge that something is unwanted, giving it to the person is really NOT a good and pure intention....it's actually quite selfish.  He had a really good idea, one that he actually flubbed up because he didn't quite know how to execute ( I did) but instead of including me in it, he wanted the glory and the credit for doing it.  He asked me how we could fix this from here on out and I explained that the idea was beautiful and I would have loved it if he had gotten the supplies for this idea, boxed them up, presented them as a gift and said "Let's do it together..."

No sneaking around and fussing at me to stay in the house.  No people coming in and out while I sat and waited and they giggled because  they knew something I didn't.  I asked him to pray that if this was a pride issue on MY part it would be removed from me, but that if it was a pride issue on HIS part, the same would happen.

No surprises in my life have been good ones.  I have clear issues with this and I could pinpoint where they manifested with  ease.  Mostly surrounding death and people not thinking I knew what I already knew, then sneaking around me, whispering so that I would hear them talking about things I knew they were talking about.  Maybe this is why I've grown to value the truth, as hard as it is, as ugly as it is.  I want the *truth* and "little white lies..." and "fibs" and "insert excuse for not telling the truth" piss me off hugely.  The older I get the less I can tolerate being lied to.  But I digress.

Also with age, I've gotten a little braver in exploring these things. Before I'd either be really mad at Jamie for "screwing up" or really mad at myself for being "mean.." But neither are true.  I have a preference that I truly need to be honored to feel secure in our relationship and he has chosen to take that to heart and really see MY intentions aren't to be ungrateful (he has told me often he wishes he could find joy in the same simple things I do) but simply to be included.  At the root of it all, I hate being left out and made to feel like I am not welcome.  Surprises invoke that feeling in me.

So while I love that he loves me (thank goodness he loves me)....surprise me?  Surprise me not.

And the truth shall set you free...kind of

So I am sitting here grinning at the irony of a person inspiring a blog because that person thinks my blogging about things I go through is "exhausting" and something else I can't quite remember (I think maybe the word was annoying)  The weird thing is after being told that I considered closing down my blog because well....this person obviously didn't approve.  I didn't really examine that any further. They didn't approve so obviously I needed to quit.  I didn't consider whether or not that person had any authority to approve or disapprove of anything I chose to do....but when I did...finally examine it..I realized I had handed that kind of authority over to this person for years....

How I should wear my hair.  What I should name my children.  What furniture to buy for my living room.  I asked and actually listened to this person's ideas about MY life.  Because that person was living a life I admired and wanted to emulate?  Not really (if I am to be completely honest). Because that person was so loving and kind and important to me?  Important yes, kind....I'm sad to say I can't use that adjective for this person after hours of thinking back over our relationship.  Because they had some stake in the end result of my choices?  Not at all.  So why? I've been thinking about that for a full 48 hours (well, actually a little over a year now, but in spurts) and the answers are a bit more daunting than I'd like to admit.

I wanted approval.  I asked for it.  And that person needed me to be the type of person who needed approval and when I finally got to a point in my life that I didn't need or want it from them, everything broke down.  When someone has a controlling personality, when they lose control...of you....they lose control of themselves.   Watching the situation play out with that in mind, I was horrified I let it go on so long.

I got no credit for the right things I had done our entire relationship but 100% of the blame for the things I had done wrong.  That fact alone made me realize how absolutely toxic the relationship had always been.  We only worked if I kept myself in line and if I stepped a bit over that line I was told what a horrible person I was.  I said the words "I'm sorry I..." multiple times whereas the other person said "I'm sorry but you..."

Catch that?

The thing, the truth will always be the truth.  At the end of the day, when we lay our heads down on our pillows and we are left alone with ourselves and our thoughts...the truth is simply the truth...even if we argued ourselves out of the other person knowing or believing that truth, it still exists.  We can twist it with words, we can blow smoke up everyone's ass from here until eternity, but it doesn't change truth's existence.  It doesn't matter if we convince 99 out of 100 people to believe our bullshit.  The truth isn't decided on popular vote, it simply exists.

Here's mine.  I tell the truth.  I haven't always, but I was always aware of when I wasn't.  I justified it as being "socially acceptable" and well, I don't always want everyone to know everything about me because most days I suck.  I don't feel the need to document my every move or thought for everyone who knows me to examine, but conversely I don't feel the need to say anything other than what is real to those who ask.  I will answer you with "I don't think you need to know that" if you don't need to know that but I will not lie to you, or about you, or WITH you (about you) to make you feel better about yourself.  That's not my responsibility. It's YOUR responsibility to fix whatever it is that's bothering you so much that you are having to lie about it.  If you need to lie, fine...that's on you...but don't include me in it cause I'm not going to play that game.  But this I CAN promise you....being truthful....with yourself, with your friends and family, and the strangers at stores that you "fib" to...to get a return or a better price on an item...is exhausting and not worth the soul damage you are doing to get whatever it is you think you are getting out of it.

I never quite understood the phrase "Oh what a tangled web we weave..." until I started knitting and realized the word tangled is one of the worst words in the English language.  Tangles are awful.  You can't tell until the very end of the untangling where the issue began.  You just keep removing string from knot after knot, little by little and it's honestly not worth the effort a good deal of the time.  Lies upon lies become so compounded that the second you open your mouth in an attempt to navigate your way out of it, you trip up on the last one and really the only thing you can do at that point is toss the yarn (friend) in the garbage (or you know, unfriend on Facebook) because you realize there's no way out.

Unless you tell the truth.  You know, admit you lied.  And apologize.  But we all know that ain't gonna happen.

And that's okay.  That's the last truth I need to accept.  And it has indeed.....set me free.

Aweariness

When I was a very small girl we had a firefighter come into our....oh I don't know...second grade class?  I can't even remember, but we were taught all about fire safety and how to escape and how we should have a plan to get out and not die if our house was engulfed in flames.  After all that merriment, we were asked to draw a picture of how to survive a fire and my drawing won a prize and got hung in the local Long John Silvers.  (And I never saw the prize.  It was cash.  No wonder.  A better prize would have been a certificate for therapy after all that, right?)

From that day on, I was very aware of the reality of house fires.  I actually had a little bag I packed with all my most important possessions and at the tender at of like....eight...I remember sitting on my bed contemplating packing my favorite stuffed dog because I really just wanted to sleep with it as I always had, but then....what if there was a FIRE....and I left it behind.....I did put that stuffed dog in that bag the first couple of nights it hung on my door and I slept terribly.

But I was aware.

Then when I was about 11, I read this horrible article about how many animals were put to death in our local animal shelter and the picture in the paper showed an employee placing dead animal bodies (wrapped up) into the incinerator.  I sat down with pen and paper and wrote a strongly worded letter to the paper....it was published and thus began a years long obsession with everything animal.  Spay and neuter people!! (That was a directive about PEOPLE spaying and neutering, you know...their animals...not themselves, although that isn't always a bad idea, but I digress...) Until I left home I would deliver my left over newspaper to the animal shelter because it was something I could actually DO.

Fast forward a few years and I had made myself aware of all kinds of travesties, tragedies and horrors. Hurricane Katrina had me in my shower bawling until I couldn't breathe, with thoughts of loading up my entire van with bottled water and granola bars....even though I couldn't get to the people who needed them.  I've organized drives for cloth diapers, sent money for rare diseases, and prayed for everything big and small that has crossed my path.  I am an empath and  it's both blessing and curse

So when the ALS "Ice Bucket Challenge" started invading my newsfeed, I thought "Wow...everyone knows what this is?  Why don't I?"  And I admitted it.  (I know the PC thing to do is just do the challenge and pretend like you know what it is but I doubt the point of an awareness campaign is pride of self.  Just saying) I had a couple people who were like "Really you didn't know...I had a friend...or this person.." and I get that.  If you know someone who's gone through something I imagine seeing an awareness campaign dedicated to that cause is both healing and empowering.  But I'd like to offer a flip side of that coin...

Do you know what scheuermann's kyphosis is?  How about Thanatophoroic Dysplasia?  I'm sure you've heard of Lupus, but you probably don't know much about how it affects daily life unless you actually KNOW someone who has it.  Hashimoto's?  SPD?

No?  These are the things that have affected the people in my immediate family.  One was deadly and took the life of my infant son and the others just all around suck and cause limitations on quality of life.

When you say these things out like, the normal human reaction is..."Well at least..."

Think about it.  We all do this.  We assign levels of how terrible something is, and thereby judge other people all.day.long  With every breath we take, with every word we utter about an illness, disease or condition, we tend to compare it with something else, declaring one a winner for the "worst thing ever.."

I know the world wants me to be aware.  I am.  I always have been.  I always will be.  I'm most keenly aware of the fact that I know next to nothing about most of the things that people, all people, are suffering with on a daily basis.  There simply isn't enough room in the human mind, or human heart, to digest and process every single sad thing that exists. I believe that the circle God has given me is the one he wants ME to attend to.  The people who are struggling in MY LIFE with the things THEY have to deal with.  I am aware of my humanity and my limitations and having accepted that I can't care about every single worthwhile thing there is to care about, I feel MORE empowered to do something with what I do know.

I use all of my energy, time, love and some money to do the things I have personally been called to do.  I am aware and involved.  Active and passionate.  Awareness is good, Aweariness is not.  It's up to each individual to find their cause, their mission and their path.  Fortunately, ALS was not in my circle inner, or outer.  That's why I had no idea what was going on.  But that's okay because I WAS made aware.  I did look it up.  I did take a moment to really internalize what that must be like, not only as the person suffering, but the people watching it happen.  I said a prayer, made note to pray again and then I clicked off the page and got back to the mission I'm on....working for Cuddle Cots, which is MY circle, my passion and my path.  My baby died.  Yours didn't  I wouldn't expect anyone who didn't experience this particular thing to spend their days or nights working with the same intensity I am.  Because that's not their path ;)

And as far as the ice-bucket challenge, well, I was TOTALLY up for it, but since....you know....I'm holding a tiny infant most of the time.....I'm opting out.  I think money was the point anyways and that....I can do ;)

If Money Can Fix It...

It ain't a problem....

This is a quote that has stuck with me, hard core, since its truth hit me one unexpected day.  I felt so enlightened with this tidbit filed into my brains Rolodex and remember sharing it with two people I was close to, at the same time and the elder said "Oh I don't agree...money could fix a whole lot of my problems..." and the other party was like "Right on sister..." and I was like...seriously you guys...you just don't get it.  I guess I could mention that both parties were riding the poverty line whereas my family is/was not and no matter where I went with that conversation, I was the loser.  I was a "have" and they were "have nots" and of course *I* would think that way since I had that luxury.

I'll be uncomfortably honest here for a moment.  Money couldn't bring back my deceased son.  It couldn't fix the gaping holes grief left in my marriage.  It cannot heal broken hearts, or cure cancer or even buy a smile if it's not attached to a good intention.  Money, on its own is a worthless concept we've created.

But it's necessary.  And I get that.  But....

Reaching back into my past, I've not had a good relationship with money.  My whole childhood there was this idea...this...hope, if you will, that we would win the lottery and all our (my parents) dreams would come true.  MONEY was the answer.   Not hard work, or self-control or resourcefulness.  Just money.  Easy money.  It's no big surprise that my parents have issues with gambling.  It's no surprise that when you ask them how must it cost to "win" that $100 they give you a blank stare or peg you as some negative nelly just trying to rain on their parade (even though you're just you know...doing math....but whatever...)  My mother's whimsical fantasy, which she spoke of, often was always some sort of deal with the cosmos about the GOOD she would do "If only I won the lottery.....I could help SO many people..."  With money.  Money. Money. Money.  Barf.

(and shudder).

And then I began my family broker than broke.  But happy.  I think this was the first time I ever really understood how money never did buy happiness.  Jamie and I had none, but we had so much.  Livin' on love I suppose.  It didn't stop us from doing, being, helping and loving people.  As our family grew, we needed more to take care of more and so we did what we thought best...worked harder.  No, seriously.  We did.  Lots of things, too much to detail  here, but eventually we got to a place after years and years of doing what most people aren't willing to do to reach a state of financial okayness.  (I don't like the term financial security because...well...security is so vague..."if money can fix it...it ain't a problem..." and all...)  We're okay.  We save, slowly. We work on retirement crap and we feed, clothe and educate our children...but so do people who make much less and so really it's not money that I'm thankful for, it's opportunity and God and resourcefulness and hard work....

But now I'm in between a rock and a hard place.  I've signed up to sell something and I'm making money with it and this is VERY different than freelance writing because the potential to make a LOT of money is there, lingering.  I'm not some pie in the sky dreamer who fantasizes about big riches and glory.  If I am to be completely blunt (which is what y'all expect from me anyways) it terrifies me.  (As an aside every now and then Jamie will buy a lotto ticket and my dread is that we'd hit ANY of the numbers that brought more into this house than we'd reasonably see in a lifetime.  I would consider it a curse, not a blessing.)  I'm supposed to be building my team and signing people up and I've looked at the numbers and done a little research, a little studying and I'm pretty damn sure that anyone who gets in on this opportunity within the next couple of years is going to be very glad they did and those who thought about it and didn't...are going to be very sorry they didn't....I've always shrugged off things like this because I DETEST bullshit.  (Again, sorry about the bluntness) The "Sign up today...easy money...work from home..do nothing..." Just no.  I can't do it.  And I'm not being asked to, I can assure you of that.  The company and my leaders, at least, are pretty honest, which I value.  But the thing is, we have to...we simply have to present the financial aspect of the opportunity and I've seen the numbers myself...and well, they are appealing, if money appeals to you.  But I feel so...like..right now just typing out this blog, SO ANXIOUS about even "going there" with anyone because I so badly want to say 'Okay this thing...it's going to require hard work and stepping outside the box and putting yourself out there...but I can only sign you up if you are honest and will promise, promise to help your customers and not make a quick buck off of them AND....please understand this...you are probably going to make a good bit of money and you're going to like it but please, please understand....it will NOT fix the problems you think it will fix.  It will make the grocery store less scary and clothes shopping less stressful and maybe you'll be able to spend a weekend somewhere besides your bathroom scrubbing off the nasty gunk because you'll have hired someone else who needs the hob to do it but PLEASE....do not think it will fix things.  If your marriage is in trouble, this won't fix it...and if you have a rocky relationship with your kid or kids, please work on that instead of buying them shit they don't need...."  And y'all this isn't my job and I get that, but having to face this...it sucks.  And y'all are probably thinking "Dude, it's selling nail wraps, how on earth can you get so emotional about uhm...nail wraps..." and I get it, it's lame, but this is how I really feel.  Like if I flaunt the numbers and the idea of financial blessing, I am saying "Money fixes shit..." and it doesn't.
And I feel all these feelings over something that doesn't actually require me to feel anything like this...but here I am.....I am really struggling with this.  Like I have to have a pre-marital-Jamberry-sign-up counseling session.  Like one of the big selling points in sharing this with people is "you really can make money pretty easy as long as you wear the wraps..." and I have a hard time saying that because I picture this poor soul wearing them for like five days and giving up because they didn't "make a ton of money..."  Because really it's not easy. This isn't easy.  You have to care about people long after the sale.  You had to have cared about them BEFORE you ever made the sale.  You have to care about them..if you NEVER make a sale...and well, if you don't...or can't...you will fail at this and ....at life....

I'll never make what Jamie does and I never want to.  I've seen that man bust his arse for 17 years to make that "six figure income" (God I hate that...like when we sold Herbalife people said that all the time.  They never said I make such and such a year...always "six figure income..."  that one phrase is like nails on a chalkboard to me...but again, I digress)  But I do want to be successful at this because I love it. Because it's fun and because I want to help other people and this is a way I can do, but it feels like as soon as money is involved, as soon as I saw my commission...I felt guilty and bad like I didn't deserve to make any money and that's a whole other ball of wax.....

I still believe, with every ounce of my being, that money doesn't fix things.  It doesn't fix the BIG things anyway.  It certainly didn't fix mine.

And The Banned Played On

There's this thing we talk about in Christian circles.  A little catch phrase for when things are looming above us....seems so big we can't possibly tackle it.  "Facing Our Giants" is something we talk about a lot.  You know the little dude David, quite sure he could kick Goliath's tush, not because he was strong and able, but because he had faith in the Lord.  That kind of faith is so empowering because really, we all have those giants.  Not the hairy, scary Philistine kind, but just normal, everyday people and situations that threaten to overtake our peace.

And so I was banned from a group I really enjoyed being a part of.  And it makes NO sense.  I mean, I can't get my mind around it.  My friends are shocked.  *I* am shocked.  But it's the same old story.  Girl World.  Play nice, play fake, do not TALK about anything and it will all  be okay.  And I already knew all this, but what shocks me is how this is coming from a person/people I looked up to as righteous and I realized it was so wrong to put ANYONE on a spiritual pedestal.  I just figured if I ever wronged someone who was a Christian, we'd talk about it, resolve it, have communion.  This whole shunning thing is beyond me.  They can have their group and pretend everyone in it is all happy and well and not human and all that, but what KILLS me is another Christian treating me this way, treating ANY sister in Christ this way. No dialogue at all?  Nothing?  No words, no even TRYING to sort it out? I just can't even (hahaha, Amber....that's just for you right there...)

And so I gave it up. I gave up the idea that this could be resolved.  I am crushed, not because I really care about the group,but because of how this was handled by people I always felt like....were so much better than me.  That loved God and loved people who loved God, but in the end, loved the faux peace that came from pretending it wasn't happening.  So I put it to rest, only after...(y'all know me...) I wrote a letter that wasn't even read to a person involved.

You see, poor Jamie took over the email while I was grocery shopping. He thought the whole thing was silly, but wanted to help me out because he's that kind of guy.  He got the same responses over and over again, more and more maddening "If she broke the rules, it's okay....we forgive her."  It couldn't POSSIBLY be that I didn't and that the reason they couldn't get to the bottom of it was because the messages that "broke the rules" were deleted by the mods before anyone could verify what they were.  I always say when you have two totally different stories from two different people, you have to ask yourself who has the most to gain from lying?  In this case, it wasn't me :)  I didn't say something ugly about a group of people who are following a book I am helping promote and then pretend I didn't say it, only agreeing to apologize in private.  I am just the girl who called it out because it was wrong.  It still IS wrong.  Like Jamie said, "You need to moderate a group? Fine.  Moderate.  That doesn't mean gossiping about the women who are posting in private.."  I am still really uncomfortable with a group of women moderating another group of women who are sharing very personal information about their weight and weight loss journey talking in private about those women, but hey, that's just me.  I think it's unloving, unkind and unethical.  But then, again, I'm a total troublemaker that way ;)

And so I sent my last word to explain MY position...and to give that person a chance to examine my side and prayerfully consider that maybe, just maybe...this Momma who stood up to that moderator might ACTUALLY be the wronged on and I know...oh I know...that creates a bit of a sticky problem when a person you like and is doing something for you has done something wrong.  No one wants to deal with that, but unfortunately, that's what being a grown up is...and so since my message wasn't even read and we've heard nothing back from anyone...and the group is still hidden from me....I will use this blog to say my peace.  This is the letter I wrote, all names removed because it's not my intention to call people out, just to get  IT out because what happened to me is wrong....And it will most likely happen again.

******************************************************************
Person who is involved, Oh my. What a mess. I was following the messages between you and my husband and feel like I'm trying to untangle a big ball of lace weight yarn after my cat got into it. There are some GLARING misunderstanings happening and my poor husband was trying to sort through it all for me. I do not expect a reply and quite frankly if I got another "Let's just all be friends" sort of reply, I would cry. I am so hurt that this is happening. And stunned. I cannot use that word enough. First, I did not try to sell or start a group to sell anything. This is making me batty. I said, yes in public, "I wonder if we should have a group for (product being discussed) consultants that love (book) to talk shop." THAT IS ALL I SAID. How on earth can that be construed as trying to sell anything or saying that (book)somehow endorses a product? Please examine the logic here. A group, that wasn't even yet named or formed, for consultants....trying to sell? To whom would we sell to if we all sold the product? "Talk Shop.." was that somehow misunderstood as shopping? Talk shop=talk business. I truly felt like I was saying "Hey, y'all....this topic is really bothering people, so why don't we take over to that booth over there..." Next thing I know, I am being pinged for soliciting. I was not removed from the group after this went on. As a matter of fact, everything in question (that had nothing at all to do with (products being discussed) at this point in the thread) was removed and it went along fine. It wasn't until I replied to the private message I got saying I understood how hard it was to moderate, but I felt like lying during all this was not okay...then I was banned. When I refer to lying, I am referring to the mods saying they deleted messages that were solicitous. They never existed in the first place...and the mods know this. It was a measure to justify the actions of deleted the "shark" messages...when other members stated they saw no spam, the moderators explained that's because they were so quick to remove them. No. Just no. I was on the thread the entire time and there were no solicitous posts. And the "quick to remove" is an interesting choice of words seeing as how the moderators left the private message up for a good 5-10 minutes without realizing it was there. There was nothing being hurriedly deleted for the good of the group, I can assure you of that. What WAS deleted? My post saying "Was that supposed to be a private message? Are we being discussed in private? I am really uncomfortable with that..." A public reply to a pubic post, but the mod doesn't get in trouble...only the member who says something about it. That's interesting isn't it? I would like to point out that yes, I understand the moderators volunteer their time and that is a lovely service. However, let me also point out that every single contributor to that forum is also a *volunteer* Every single person that encourages, gives ideas, solutions, recipes, answers to questions....WE ALL "volunteer". That word should never be used as a free pass for bad behavior or being above the law and that is exactly what is happening here. This has been said many times over in this situation..."She volunteers..her time..it's hard..." I understand. I really and truly understand,but I can't get on board with the idea that this is even part of the conversation when it comes to behaving badly. Your volunteer called the members in that thread a name. She then posted that publicly when it was intended to be private gossip. The exact words were "Like sharks to chum...I called it didn't I?" Can you understand how uncomfortable it is knowing that things you post are being discussed, in an ugly manner, by people you don't even know? I do accept her apology to ME, and it was a very sweet and humble apology, but I do not think it's okay that only went to me and was done so quietly. She owed an apology to way more than one person. That is not "drama." That is righteous behavior. Next, "threatening to blog..." I am sitting here thinking, really? Me? A Threat? ME? Melissa? If you only knew. If you knew me...my friends upon reading that last night in our own private discussion thought this was FUNNY. I am not "that girl." I think the phrase I used may have been too familiar "I am so upset about this I even blogged it.." Very common place in my life. It's a measure of how excited, upset, happy or sad I am about anything. I WAS blogging about this. That was my confession to her "This upset me so much I am even blogging it..." That was me pointing out how strongly I felt, not a threat? I am not sure how on earth it could be one....I mean....what exactly is threatening about that? I am just so...shocked. I mean I am really just shocked. I think we can all agree that there has been some huge inconsistencies in understanding and getting to the bottom of this. That tends to happen when evidence is destroyed before a neutral party can examine it. I tried to discuss this with the moderator,but when the misdeed was brought to light, she fled. I don't understand that way of doing things. To me, there is no "drama" in discussing something until a resolution is reached. For me, especially as a Christian, "Hug and make up" is not acceptable. We are called to repentance each and every time we sin. This person, while I am sure is lovely (I am not calling that into question, my children are the most lovely creatures on earth....They are my soul...I still spend many hours of my day bringing them back to righteousness as is my duty) has done wrong, and done wrong while representing (book) My banning was because I addressed it with her (in private no less....I was not banned for my public comments. She did so only after the private message) I saw the messages bounce back and forth once I got home from my grocery shopping last night and I wasn't sure if I should send my own message or not, but I had to this morning to speak my peace. I am not going to say "Ohhhh....how cute....let's just hug....let's make up...peace, peace, peace..." Do I want peace? Absolutely. But the sweeping under the rug so the room looks pretty is not my way of doing things. Let's actually clean up the mess. I am aware of the no soliciting policy. I didn't solicit. I told a mod in private I was so upset that I was blogging (she banned before she asked to see that and also blocked from further discussion with her. She completely just blocked me.) My crime? I called sin, sin. I didn't break the rules and I think once everything is examined, you will see that. I have been pushed out for standing up. Had that private message calling us sharks not been posted in public, all of this would be a moot point. So essentially this situation has the member who stood up for the other members banned, and the moderator still able to moderate. I hope you can see the huge injustice in that. It wasn't *until* I stood up about this comment that all the other accusations came to fruition, which is....concerning. I feel like I do with my children. I ask about what they did wrong and instead of a straight answer, I am given the 15 things the other child did to deserve what they got. I find it interesting that when you got involved and asked about what was happening, now all of the sudden there are all these things I've done. Were those an issue, enough to be BANNED, you'd think I would have been talked to about them prior to us contracting YOU. Were they? Nope. Only when we asked you was I able to face my accuser. I have been a (book fan) since it was offered in (magazine it was offered in) I have followed the Facebook group FOREVER. I get most of our recipes and tweaks and hacks for the plan from there, so I am asking for the ban to be lifted. This ban will affect my being able to stay on this and show it to others and I am horrified that someone's pride is being allowed to steal something precious away from my family. I am praying fervently that your moderator can see how her actions, a small thoughtless irritation, has caused such a ruckus. Grace abounds, my heart is soft towards her, but in love, I will not say "Oh it will be okay, let's just let bygones be bygones..." However, she has to bring this to the cross. We can talk about who did what and what was said until the end of time, but at this very second the Lord knows our hearts and who is truly in the wrong in this situation. I think we should all really, really think on that truth and how none of the specifics matter. They truly don't. We all love the Lord and this hurts His heart. I forgive her for her comments to me, but until she can admit the dishonesty in representing my actions, I can't forgive that because she hasn't asked. Instead of facing that, she banned me.... This is truly the last word I'll speak on the matter. I already know your position and that this had to be frustrating for me. Should you wish to reinstate me, I would be please. Should you not, I will mourn that loss and bring it to God. Only He can soften hearts and that will be my prayer. Thank you for reading. I would appreciate no further reply as I really do feel everything that needs said, has been said. With hope and love,

Me (and yes, in hindsight I feel SO stupid for saying I am blogging about it but a certainly didn't see it as a threat because I knew that I wasn't blogging specifics at all, or trying to call anyone out...and like...only 7 people read my blog LOL so the thought that saying "This is so upsetting I am even blogging about my feelings on it.." was a threat was weird to me, however, I do see where it could be taken as that and well, I get it but I knew what my intentions were and what I meant and had I been asked, I could have cleared that up.  Fascinating thing about DISCUSSION...it tends to do that clearing things up thing quite nicely.  Shutting down and refusing to communicate tends to do the opposite and that is what the mod did.  Blocked me.  For asking to discuss it...Awesome.  Also her apology was not THAT sweet. I read it once, thinking oh that's nice...but then I read it again and basically it was "You have to understand I VOLUNTEER....for up to 8 hours a day...and so I was tired and grouchy and I am sorry if you thought my comments were directed at you....they weren't."  Okay, so another straight up lie because when the comment appeared, she had copied and pasted the entire thread, so there really was nothing left to interpretation as to who she was speaking about......I hate "I'm sorry YOU felt that way apologies....")

Anyhoo, so I am moving on and moving up.  Got a lot of praying to do for those involved because a lot of selling out on beliefs in order to keep up appearances is happening and that is never good.

So I'm banned.  I'll deal.  And move on I will....