Class Act?

I was having a particularly bad episode of whatever this stupid thing is that I live with.  I don’t know if it’s depression or anxiety or both or something else entirely anymore and frankly, I don’t give a crap unless knowing the right “label” for it would bring me some healing that I have yet to find.  In any case,  I decided to go for a ride with my sister and my kids to get dinner and was waiting in the car while she picked up her order when I encountered a self-appointed member of the morality police.

As she got out of her enormous SUV that was parked next to my 20 year old Corolla in her speedo shorts and tank top she bent herself in half to look INSIDE my car (which had all the windows down) to STARE directly at me.  I looked over and faked a smile then looked away.  She walked toward the same restaurant my sister was in and continued looking back and starring.  She was inside for a bit and then came back out and continued staring.  I mean going OUT OF HER WAY to STARE at ME.  directly at ME. So about the third staring marathon, I finally looked at her and said “WHAT?”  “What are you starring at?”  She said “You’re parked in a handicapped space.”  I said “yep, that’d be because I’m actually handicapped thanks.”  I looked and realized that I didn’t have the placard up on the rearview ~GASP~ Then … I heard her mutter under her breath.. “I don’t think I believe THAT”.  I got (admittedly) irrationally pissed off at this incredibly rude and nosey (not to mention WRONG) assumption and said:  “You know what sweetheart here ya go.. here it is SEE HAS MY NAME RIGHT ON THERE PROVING THAT I AM INDEED HANDICAPPED.”  (while holding the placard as close to her window as I could reach from across the car.

She refused to look up from the seat of her enormous SUV so I LAID on my horn until she did and shoved it in the window again and said.. “Here ya go sweetheart, do you feel better, do I have your personal approval to park here now?”  I hung it on the review mirror and she said:  “You should have it hanging up” and I said.. “Your right I ABSOLUTELY SHOULD FORGIVE ME FOR ANNOYING YOU AND FORGETING TO HANG MY HANDICAPPED PERMISSION SLIP UP.  DO YOU FEEL BETTER NOW?”  To which she said the comment that makes me the most irrationally angry THAT ANY comment can:  “You should be glad someone cares!”

Ok, aside from the patronizing, nosey, insulting tone she took on from moment one, let me take a moment to explain why this type of comment pisses me off.

  1. NO ONE has the right to tell me or anyone else how to feel in ANY situation.
  2. Having a disability does NOT mean that I need someone else to speak or do anything else to ‘protect’ me unless I ask for it.
  3. Having a disability also does NOT mean that I am REQUIRED to feel ANY way about ANY behavior of anyone regarding my disability or anyone else’s.
  4. I don’t have to be constantly happy or sad or thankful for anything.  I have a right to MY OWN PERSONAL FEELINGS IN ANY GIVEN SITUATION JUST LIKE ANYONE ELSE
  5. People with handicaps are NOT (contrary to popular sentiment) on the earth to prove to others how the only disability is a ‘bad attitude’.  That is bullshit.  Disabilities are REAL.  They are OFTEN painful.  They are OFTEN annoying and create regular disappointments and can also VERY OFTEN lead to depression and anxiety and other issues that are all legitimate reactions to being in a body that doesn’t look, feel or act like you or others want or expect it to.  I DON’T need special permission to be angry or sad or any other ‘negative’ emotions; and it doesn’t mean I should turn in my “happy handicapped motivational prop card”  (which by the way, I never asked for nor do I want).   In fact, if it is something that can be returned, consider THIS post my resignation from that RIDICULOUS STEREOTYPED position that other people put “us’ in so that they can USE us to motivate themselves by remembering.. “Hey, don’t get too depressed about your life!  Remember, it could always be worse, you could be THEM and besides, look how happy the little  “gimps’ are!  If they can do it then I can!”
  6. GAG.
  7. I am not required to be thankful for anyone sticking their busybody nose into my personal business or anyone else’s for that matter.

Ok, now that I’ve explained that:  My response to her was “Well, surprisingly I’m NOT thankful and would prefer you minding your own f***ing business actually, thanks for asking!”  To which she responded: “You’re a class act.”  I thanked her of course.  lol

Now, I will be the first to admit that this was indeed an overreaction and most certainly not the classiest way it could have been handled.  I will say however, that it was an honest reaction.  It was a real reaction and it was actually a restrained reaction.  If I’d had my way I would have gone through this entire list with Ms. Busy Body and asked her if she had obtained permission from her eco conscience friends to drive that gas guzzling beast of a status symbol she was smugly sitting in while waiting on some underpaid employee to make her over-packaged food.  I also would have asked her who appointed her the morality police.  Or, for that matter, the “class” police because I would say that sticking your nose in a total strangers business and assuming the worst about them is pretty classless.

I discovered when my sister came out that this gem of a human being had also verbally accosted her in the store. To which my sister had politely replied, that she was driving a placard holding disabled person who may or may not decide to come in the store, thank you very much.  The woman was so bent on correcting us she STILL came out and ‘confronted’ ME and I’m the “class act” in this situation.  Really?

Most people who know me know that I am generally a very happy person.  Glass half full, sunny side up, bright side finding, sun shining out of my ass kind of person.  This is just who I prefer to be.  It makes life easier and more fun.  However, there are times where I am legitimately sad, angry, depressed or annoyed and I am allowed to have those feelings as well.  You know why?  I am a PERSON with a disability.  NOT JUST a disability or a prop for others to be motivated by.  I love you people.  It’s why I share this stuff.  Especially the not so pretty stuff.  I really think down in the foxhole (so to speak) is where you find out who people really are. You learn the lessons that make you a better person and your life and  your world a better place.

Thanks for meeting me in the foxhole.  I’ll see ya when the bombing ends and it’s safer for me to come out.
KP

Terribly real

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Miracles Happen on God’s Time, NOT Ours

*His name was changed, because frankly, I can’t remember what it actually WAS!  lol

“Hey Kandice, you have a phone call!”  I locked up my cash register and ran down the incline to the customer service desk where the phone had been pulled up to reach the desk and grabbed the receiver thinking: who on EARTH would call me here rather than just waiting until I get off work.  I looked at my manager, a man I’d known about two years, and suddenly didn’t want the phone call after all.  He had a look of sheer panic worry on his face as he pushed the reciever in my direction.

“This is Kandice.”  “Hey Kandy, it’s *Michael from from the doctor’s office.”  “Oh, hi. What’s up?”  “Can you have someone drive you to Vanderbilt right now?”  “Um, well no I’m working but I’ll just walk over when my shift is over.”  “No, I’d really rather you come now and don’t come alone.”  “Wow, ok I’ll ask about coming now but you have to tell me why so I don’t worry all the way there please.”  “Remember we drew blood when you told us you had missed two periods and the pregnancy test came back negative?”  “Yes, and are  you about to tell me I’m the next recipient of immaculate conception?”  (no laughter from him… this CAN’T be good)  “Ok well, you’re blood test came back and I need to see you.”  “Are you going to tell me or make me suffer?”  “You have a brain tumor.  Can someone drive you?”   “Um, no, I’ll be ok.  I’ll just walk over.”  “Ok, I’ll wait for you at the ER door and we’ll walk up to the MRI room together.  Ok.?”  “Yeah.”

I handed the phone back to my boss and stared blankly.  He asked me if I was ok and I said rather matter of factly, apparently I have a brain tumor and need to go up to Vandy right now for an MRI.  So, I guess the answer is no.  He said he’d drive me there but I really felt like I needed the walk and the quiet between the small grocery store where I worked and the hospital where I was going to have the MRI.  I don’t really remember the walk.  I do remember walking into the ER and not seeing Michael, the intern anywhere so I just asked where to find the MRI waiting room and went there.  I sat down and waited.  I had the impression that the MRI was waiting for me, but was told once I arrived that I actually would need to wait until a spot opened up between emergencies.  So, I decided I didn’t really want to be there alone after all and called my friend Shawn who seemed to arrive within seconds (although I’m sure it took her at least an hour to get there from Murfreesboro where she was in school)  We sat together silently (the word brain tumor at 20 tends to silence most people)  Then, Micheal arrived.  I didn’t recognize him in his street close and backpack, as I had only ever seen him in his “intern clothes”  (read scrubs).  He walked up and smiled at me and sat down saying, I didn’t want you to be alone.  Sorry I missed you at the ER.    I just smiled.  “So, brain tumor huh?”  Not exactly sure the response I was expecting.  “Well, yes, but let’s see what the MRI shows us before we talk about specifics ok?”  “Ok then”

Turns out, I did, in fact, have a benign pituitary tumor called a prolactinoma that is basically an uncontrolled growth on your pituitary gland that stops your periods and can cause you to lactate and without successful treatment can lead to infertility, vision loss and or total blindness.  After some research on my part and the very real and appreciated support of my wonderful intern (doctor) we found the right medication for me. It shrank the tumor (which meant no surgery..YAY) reinstated my periods and had no impact on my vision whatsoever!  Talk about blessed!  Finding the right medication was no walk in the park but we did it.  This left me with only one bit of bad news to swallow:  Thanks to this tumor I was going to be unable to have children.

To know me NOW is to know that was like a death sentence to me.  To know me THEN was to not realize how devastating that ‘life sentence’ was because I felt I wasn’t allowed to say that all I really wanted was to be a mom and every single thing I studied was toward the goal of making me a better wife and mother when the time came.   I studied social work, I studied the facts about this tumor, I took my medication and began spiralling into a very dark, quiet, angry depression.  I broke up with a young man whom I loved very much b/c I felt that I could not give him what he wanted anymore.  I dated other people who were a waste of time and energy because there was no point in being choosy now.  The depression worsened and went undiagnosed and untreated.  In fact four years went by the last of which I was dating a man whom was kind but dishonest at first.  Later he wasn’t so kind and I still couldn’t bring myself to leave.  I stayed on birth control despite the ‘infertile’ diagnosis because I knew WITHOUT A DOUBT that in spite of how much I wanted children I did NOT want them with him.  We used protection as well.  Then, one night, after having gotten back together after yet another attempt at a break up we slept together and (without getting too graphic) when it was over I knew the INSTANT I was pregnant.

Absurd, I suppose it would sound that way to some.  Nonetheless, I KNEW.  When I was a young teenager I knew for weeks before I started my period that it was coming.  I could feel things happening in there that I’d never felt before.  I could actually FEEL my ovaries ‘revving up’ as it were.  Same here.  I could FEEL the change.  I could feel what seemed like electricity inside my womb.  I remember thinking: “what the hell was THAT?”  I felt a little sick and a little worried and a little excited.  I just KNEW.  I pushed it out of my head thinking.  NO WAY!  You know what the doctor said and for goodness sake you are as protected as a human being can be in the situation (having been on the depo provera shot for a year, and having used condoms as well as having been told by this partner that he was also infertile).  Some time passed and I started having symptoms of pregnancy.  I bought something like 10 tests and brought them to the house I was dog sitting in.  I used three or four before I finally sat on the edge of the tub staring at four plus signs and thinking: “Holy Lord Jesus, there is a BABY inside my body.”   Then thinking: “DAMN IT! WHAT AM I GOING TO DO NOW while simultaneously thinking HA!  SO MUCH FOR DOCTORS!”.

I called my best friend Jenny, we had a good cry while we talked about what in the world I would do.  I briefly considered not telling the boyfriend, thinking I wanted to make the decision on my own and I DEFINITELY didn’t want him parenting with me.  Then almost in the same breath said, no, he IS the father and God MUST have a plan for this little one that includes the man who helped create it.  I don’t want to start anyone’s life with a lie.   The next call I made was to the doctor’s office to schedule an appointment to verify the painfully obvious.  Then I called the (by now) ex-boyfriend to tell him the news.

It still amazes me how in a split second the blinders of depression and loss are wiped away by an unexpected, unplanned, undeserved and undeniable MIRACLE.  God, gave me the baby I wanted all my life.  Now, I had to start the journey of trusting Him with it literally EVERY single step of the way.  I was nothing, I had nothing, I could give nothing to another human being beyond what He gave me to share which was Love.  That is LITERALLY all I had.  I sat on the edge of my bed once I got back to my dorm (which not for nothing, was in a southern baptist university, in whose values I did not agree or live)  I sat on the edge of my bed and I got out a notebook and a pen.  I started a journal which was ultimately one very long prayer to God and love letter to the baby He gave me.   Page one says nothing but: “I have NO IDEA what Your plan is, but I trust You and I THANK YOU for giving me a dream come true, a miracle I could never deserve and a dream come true.  Please, Please help me know the right thing for this baby and do it.  No matter what it is.  Amen.  Life as I had known it had changed forever.  Again.

Life was never the same again or again or again.

My life has been completely changed three times so far.  I’m not talking “oh I’ll drive this way to work today” or I guess I’ll change my major again”.  I’m talking waking up in one world and going to sleep in a completely different one in the span of 24 hours.  The first was when I was 18 and was forced to go to a court hearing between my parents that should have just been about the formality of changing custody.  I wanted to spend my senior year living with my father and that had to be finalized legally.  I also needed to stay on my birth mother’s insurance plan due to my disability (Cerebral Palsy).    Seems simple enough given my age and the limited amount of time I would even be dependant.  However, nothing about it was simple.  At the risk of sounding trite, the next was the day it was verified that I was pregnant. (verified is a very purposeful choice of word, but more on that in another post).  The third was the day my family and I were T-boned (is that a real phrase?) in the intersection directly in front of our apartment and my leg was shattered.

Part 1

I sat in court and listened to my (birth) mother lie and lie and lie.  It was so blatant that I honestly thought she was mistakenly talking about someone else.  She accused me of playing up my disability, of getting in trouble at school. of always being in trouble at home and worst of all wanting to move out because I expected to have name brand products and she was “too poor” to provide them.  She even had my older sister get on the stand and testify to the same general idea.  Now, up to this point I had been very close to my mom.  I had until recently truly believed that she loved me but was overwhelmed by having to take care of my sister, me and then my niece (who was a toddler at the time)  Over the years just before this hearing she had announced when I was fifteen that she was ‘done parenting”  that if we needed anything else we could handle it ourselves.  She had gotten to the point that she wouldn’t even speak to me unless I stood directly in front of her and screamed.  Even given all that I still chalked it up to being overwhelmed and stupidly thought that by leaving I would be lightening her load.  I wasn’t being completely unselfish, I DID want attention and I DID want a chance to live with my dad and step mom and I DID want to know what it would be like to be on my own with them for a while and away from all the loneliness of what felt to me like going through adolescence with no guide.  I did NOT do it to hurt her.  I did NOT want things to get worse.  It wasn’t really up to me.  I didn’t realize it until the court date arrived.

My mother, the always impeccably dressed (if overdone for my taste) full make up, big earrings, designer clothes bag and sunglasses with big Texas hair to match arrived in court in what I can only describe as a brown sack.  I think it was a pull over dress.  It was plain.  It was dark.  It was NOT my mother.  She had on almost no make up.  Her hair was flat.  She had on small if any jewelry.  She didn’t even have her nails or hair done.  I didn’t even recognize her.  I had to look twice to be sure it was her.  I was shocked.  Our attorney told me that it is pretty common for attorneys to tell their clients to dress the part of whatever it is they are trying to convey.  In this case I suppose it was poverty.  I really don’t know.  Throughout the day we were in the same court room and she avoided my eyes.  At one point in the courthouse lunchroom she walked past me and sat with her back to me at a table three down from me.  It was like I was invisible.  I didn’t know what in the world to think.  Each time I heard her side speak I was floored.  It was one lie after another after another.  When it was my turn on the stand her attorney accused me of having my CP be in remission (which btw is impossible as CP is a permanent condition NOT  a disease or illness that can go into remission)  I kept trying to catch my mother’s eye from the stand b/c I was trying to grasp that this was in fact the same person I had lived with my entire life.  The person who used my disability to get herself attention.  The person who ignored my disability almost to the point of my losing the ability to walk because she couldn’t deal with the fact that it WAS real OR because she didn’t want to pay the deductible or miss getting her premiums refunded thanks to not using the insurance all year.   She refused to look at me.  The longer the day went on, the more ridiculous the lies got the more I realized why she refused to look at me.  She used me.  She threw me under the bus to be sure that she wouldn’t have to pay for me to stay on her insurance.  She was so determined to make sure that my father was punished by making him pay for my insurance that she didn’t mind using my heart and health (not to mention my sister’s) as the bullet to wound him.  When it was finally over and we were all leaving the courtroom that woman I had called my mother stopped me and called out “I love you”  “Call me” in a weak pathetic put on voice.  I stopped dead.  I turned around and starred.  My mind was whirring.  My ears were ringing.  What the hell was going on?  What did she say?  Who the hell was she?  I starred for a minute and so did she.  Neither of us moved.  She looked at me doe eyed.  I wanted to vomit.  I opened my mouth and rather than vomit  the words FUCK YOU flew out of my mouth at top volume.  I had never in my life said that to her.  I had thought it over small things, bigger things, teenage things.  This time, I hadn’t even meant to say it.  It just flew out.  I turned and walked away crying harder than I have ever and maybe since.  The very next thing I remember is being in my bedroom just inside the door, still bawling, and dropping to the floor.  I died that day.  The child in me that believed that mothers always love their children.  The child that KNEW that mothers never MEAN to hurt their daughters.  The child that knew how the world worked and where she fit in it.  I didn’t have a place anymore so my world stopped and my heart with it.    It’s frightening when your heart breaks and you don’t die.

The next thing I remember is waking up in my bed the next day.  I was told that I was essentially catatonic so my father put me in my bed and my step-mom (Lisa) tucked me in and checked on me periodically through the night.  I know I woke up in a world I felt I’d never seen.  I am SO thankful that this new world had two people whom I know love me and were able to help me walk though it one step at a time and remind me that I was ok and safe and loved.  That all that had happened was not my fault and that there is a new way to continue in life knowing what I know now.  It was nothing but a blessing.  It was frightening, it was surprising, it was invigorating and exciting.  It was the best and and shortest year of my life.  More posts on that to come.  To end this on a positive note:  Life does go on, it does get better, with and without the scars left behind.  Keep reading to learn more 🙂hardest battle

 

Split Second

What do you do when a split second changes your entire life?  Platitudes notwithstanding I’m presently living in the aftermath of a split second.  I was born with mild Cerebral Palsy.  Born prematurely and deprived of oxygen for an unknown amount of time left me with a lifetime of overcoming obstacles to do the simplest of tasks.  At three, after surgery and some physical therapy I was able to walk on my own.  It took some more doing and at least one more surgery to maintain that ability into my teenage years and young adulthood.  I got on with life.  I went to college.  I had a daughter.  I took care of her and myself alone for years.  I LOVE being a mama.  I LOVE having a calling from God to a ringside seat at the blooming of an amazing human being.  There were some struggles and some frustrations to do with physical ability but I managed.  I enjoyed my ability to do for us.  Then God brought me a second child.  He is a joy.  He is a busy bundle of lightening.  I adore him. I struggled a bit more to take care of another little one with a few more years (and pounds) under my belt.  Literally.  We managed.  We were all working toward some goals.  I was excited at the progress toward physical health I was making.  

Then that split second.  That damn second.  

On our way home a woman decided that the light she was barrelling down on would hold out just long enough for her to plow through the intersection.  She was wrong.  She plowed into us.  The crunch of metal, the screeching of tires and the shattering of my leg, of my life.  Our car spun and then our lives did.  We lost our only transportation.  I lost my strongest leg.  That split second was the first domino in a line of events that piled up and buried us under other people’s decisions, right and wrong, that conspired to keep us swimming hard to keep our heads above water.  First, the driver, next the police officer who didn’t investigate but made a rash decision without merit and then lied to cover it up.  Then, doctor’s and nurses who believed the lie and answered it with neglect of my injuries as a form of punishment for a crime I didn’t commit.  Then an attorney who tried to help but came against an insurance company who (reasonably) took the word of the cop that lied.  It’s amazing what one false word can do to a family and how little that family can do to right it.  All we can do is try to live with it.  

I thought I could.  I thought, as long as I get my life back we’ll be ok.  We’re always ok  God takes good care of us.  Then a year, four surgeries, a massive infection of the bone, a year with an open wound and lots of physical therapy later and my life is not anything I recognize.  It’s nothing I can see my way through.  I still can’t walk more than a few feet on a good day.  On a bad day I can’t walk at all.  I will never be rid of my walker or my wheelchair.  I will also never see justice for what was done.  I just have to find a way to move on.  

God still takes care of us.  We have a car.  Sometimes it starts, sometimes not.  We all lived. We still have each other and that’s nothing to shake a stick at.  I’m so thankful.  I love my family.   I was the only one injured.  I wasn’t the only one impacted.  My children lost the mom they knew.  They lost the mom who comes to every event.   The mom who took care of the house (usually!)  The mom full of confidence and plans.  I’m working hard to find that mom inside me again.  She seems to have vanished with the the bones in my ankle. I have lost my way.  

Being thankful for my ability to walk and care for myself and my family was never something I took for granted.  I hoped that would keep me from losing it.  I was wrong.  I didn’t just lose my ability to walk I lost my confidence.  I am looking for it under every pile of dirty laundry and sink of dirty dishes.  Sitting in the chair makes it hard to see what’s in there.  I’ve never felt so beat down.  I’ve never been told that my hard work for recovery is not going to get me where I’m headed until now.  

How do you live with that split second?  I’ll let you know when I figure it out.

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What would you do if you woke up with the body of your dreams?

I have a sweet friend who also happens to be an author of some ‘spicy’ novels.  Her latest title (Skin Deep) and snippet gave me the inspiration for this blog post.  (Her name is Megan D. Martin- Author and Editor)  Her snippet says “What would you do to HAVE the perfect body?”  However, I read it in haste as “What would you do if you HAD the perfect body of your dreams”.  I have no idea why. Either way, this got me thinking.  That is a GREAT writing prompt!   I’m going to keep  thinking on this a bit and would love for you to do the same.  I’ll be back to elaborate on what I come up with …  Hope you will do the same!

Ok I’m back to post what I think I’d do! I think the most important thing is to start by DEFINING what my dream body would be.  I wouldn’t get rid of my Cerebral Palsy.  Mine is mild.  It’s blessed me FAR more than it’s stolen from me.  I would go back to the body I had in college.  🙂  I was healthy and strong and at my best.  I walked EVERYWHERE.  I liked walking.  It was work but it was possible and it was FUN.  I loved to sweat and felt brand new after every hike!  I was beautiful and didn’t realize how much so.  I would LEAP out of bed and find all my old Levi’s and slip those puppy’s on and grab a tank top and a pretty bra!  I miss pretty bra and panties 😀  I would then IMMEDIATELY head outside and walk until I felt like I was going to drop!  Give LOUD and repetitive thanks to God for giving me back the ability to walk freely!

Next, I’d be so much more respectful of my body and my soul and their connection.  NO MORE INSULTING MYSELF.  NO MORE STEALING MY OWN CONFIDENCE BY REPEATING THE LIES OF THE ENEMY.   I’d be much more careful of how/what I eat.  I’d chase my kids EVERYWHERE!  I’d take my little boy to a park and run him RAGGED.  I’d wear the clothes I love rather than the ones I can find.  I would be braver in my choices.  I’d workout with my daughter.  I’d swim like a fish.  I would be open more, chatty more, hide less, smile more.

As I’m writing this…. it occurs to me I need to do as many of these things as I possibly can NOW so that I will eventually be able to do them all one day.  What do ya know?  Love what you have until you have what you love.  Time to get moving I think!  How bout you?

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My proud legacy to my daughter.

My proud legacy to my daughter.

Immediately after reading my latest blog which contained the phrase “chick flick” she looked at me and in her 15 y/o way said “I want to ask the universe a question… WHY aren’t dumb guy movies called ‘dick flicks’?
Well played my daughter… well played.

This is from the facebook page steampunk. Not sure how to link it but I strongly encourage you to search them out and like them on FB. 😀

Desperate Love

 I’m almost positive every girl in the modern world has seen “The Notebook”.  It’s a great movie.  I guess it’s a ‘chick flick’ but for me it’s just a great love story.  Love isn’t easy.  Love takes work.  Love is choices.  Love is as forever as it is fleeting.  It all comes down to how you treat it.  I think. This movie captures all of that and more for me.   I can’t be completely positive because although I’ve had some love in my life.  I’ve never been married. I’ve never given over my entire life and future to another person believing that they will do the same and keep that promise.   I do have what I would call a ‘forever love’ though.  It was a whole lot like this movie.  Except of course for the all important happy ending.  My heart, dreams and prayers are still holding out for it but I also know we live in a fallen world in which God has given free choice to all of us.  So, just because Ally’s Noah took a risk and reached out for her, doesn’t mean my “Noah” will.  Even though, Noah’s Ally took a huge risk and trusted her life to him by coming back doesn’t mean I’ll ever get the chance to take that risk with mine.   I’m a dreamy realist I guess.  Pessimistic optimist maybe?    Either way for me, depending on the day, I can be filled with hope and joy or I can feel like the world and all my dreams and hopes are forever gone like so much vapor.  

Today, I am teetering on the edge of the vapor.  My heart really is broken.  I really am lonely.  My life does not look the way I planned or the way I expected.  I LOVE my life.  Well, so many parts and people in it, I do.  I really do.  My kids were always in my dreams and now they are in my daily life. There is no adequate way to express how thankful I am for them.  My best friends are two of the most amazing women I’ve ever known and thanks to them I am never and will never be truly alone.  I like my own company.  I’m not afraid of silence.  I can be happy on my own.  These are all answered prayers.  The thing is:  the prayer I’ve prayed since I was old enough to remember them, was and is, someone to love me forever.  Someone to share life with.  The other person that makes the rest of your life make sense.  The person that makes all of the other heartbreaks worth it and long over.  It’s not answered yet.  Or rather, maybe it was answered and I missed it?   Know what I mean?   There’s a scene in the movie that feels like it came out of my heart.. here it is:

 

Will she come back?  Will he take her?  If you’ve seen the movie you know the answer. In life we don’t usually get that information.  We don’t know the ending.  We don’t even know the next scene.  Right now I feel like I’ve been in the longest most boring holding pattern ever. I keep waiting for my love scene.  I keep waiting for my ‘happy ending’.  How bout  at least for the next chapter even?   I get to love and adore the ones I have and am left to wonder constantly if my ever pressing dream IS REALLY IN GOD’S PLAN FOR ME.  Today it’s exhausting. The world conspires against you when you believe in love and keep trying.  It calls you names like: Naive, Pathetic, even desperate.     I might be naive, I’m sure I’m pathetic to some people … one thing I know for sure is that I AM desperate.  Not in the way the world defines it but definitely desperate.  

I am desperate to keep hope.  I am desperately in love.  I am desperate to believe that no matter what my worldly circumstances are there is a Godly man with an other-worldly love for only me.  One that will fight for me, look for me, wait for me. . . find me. . . Love. Me.  I’m ok with being THAT kind of desperate.  I’d rather live with the hope for love than die living without it.  What else is there that matters more than Hope and Love?  I can’t think of a thing.

The cries of His broken-hearted daughter.

Yesterday was a hard day.  There are always a list of reasons.  Most of them are so small when compared to the worlds ills, but it’s not our job to compare struggles just uplift those we can and remind ourselves and others of the blessings and that we are not of this world.  This too shall pass.  Right?  Well, it will but till it does life kinda sucks.

 Dealing with depression sometimes means that I get completely self-absorbed and stuck in self-pity as well as trapped in real sorrow that seems like quick sand.  The more I struggle the deeper I sink.  Yesterday was one of those days.  I truly felt hopeless and pointless.  Mostly I felt ANGRY.  FURIOUS.  LIVID.  I really can’t find the right word.  It’s this soul eating, gut wrenching, hell visiting misery. The best description I’ve ever come up with for it is:  It feels like the devil is connected to your hip and constantly whispering in your ear and sometimes LIVING in your mind and spewing all these ugly, mean, painful “truths” at you and you can’t get away from it b/c it’s inside you.  Yesterday the ‘truths’ were: You are helpless.  You are worthless.  You’ve wasted your life.  You will never be loved.  You will never be beautiful. You are not important.  No one needs you. You are a burden.  You are a waste.  You have no future.  Your dreams are dead.  Your purpose is NOTHING. You ruined EVERYTHING with that accident and nothing will  ever be right again.  

As you can imagine I was not only miserable, I was a misery to be with.  Thank GOD He gave me a best friend and a soul sister who knows me and loves me enough to sit with me in my misery and who also knows when it’s time for me to leave.  She got me out.  She got me moving and she helped me close the door on it.  Turn it off.  That’s not to say it was gone but for a while it was quiet.  I woke up this morning feeling a little bit like someone with a hangover.  Groggy, sickly and wondering if I was going to feel better or have more of the same.  Then there was a ‘PING’ 

The ping of a message on my cell phone.  This message was from a friend I’ve known for a decade but been able to spend very little time with.  We’ve tried a few times but it just never quite worked out.  God’s timing.    God’s timing was TODAY.  She asked me to please come and let her bless my family and as much as I WANTED to do that I could see NO WAY that could possibly happen and told her.  She prayed with me over the phone for a way to be made and said “I’m gonna walk on faith that I’m going to see you in a little while!”  I hung up thinking yeah ok but that’s not going to happen. We have no way to get there right now and BLECH.  I do NOT feel fit for public consumption.  (Blech for me NOT her.)   Then,  God showed his Face.  🙂  That soul sister said ‘I’m in!’   I remembered some money I had put aside for gas.  My daughter got home from her friend’s house as we were walking out the door and her boyfriend was ready to be picked up on the way to the house!  

Now, the fact that God made a way and got everyone in place at the perfect time was amazing enough.   Then as icing on the cake we were all headed to Bridgeport to my sweet friend’s ranch…..WITH HORSES….WITH A BRAND NEW HOME TO CELEBRATE WITH HER…..WITH A GARDEN TUB …. A LAKE…TONS OF WINDOWS…..DOGS…. oh and did I mention HORSES????  Yes well, this is particularly significant when you realize that my 15 year old daughter was BORN to ride horses and despite years of trying we have never been able to find a place to have her ride on a regular basis.  She’s only been on a horse three times in her life and I can promise you it is where God made her to be.  She absolutely GLOWS with joy on the back of a horse.. or near a horse for that matter.  She has a natural affinity that could only come from her Heavenly Father.    Her sweet 5 year old brother LOVES horses but has only seen them behind fences and through car windows.  He hopped on his first horse bareback and off he went with that very same glow from heaven.  It was by far the most beautiful thing I have ever laid eyes on!  Both of my sweet babies glowing with joy in the element God created for them, in a way only He could orchestrate, in a place surrounded by precious people HE placed in our lives.  

He heard my cry.  He caught my tears.  He counted each one, and this once he showed me the very next morning how very much every single tear means to Him.  How very much He loves not just me but my babies and my soul sisters and their babies and how we are all connected to one another in His timing and His family and how He wants to use us all to bless one another all those precious animals that we got to love on and who we watched leap and play and express all the joy He gave them.  

I have gone from feeling barren and lost to overflowing and thankful.  Blessed beyond measure.  Brought to tears again.  This time tears of joy.  Thank you Abba.  Thank you Tricia.  Thank you Sabrina.  Thank you for one more day.  Thank you for all the blessings I thought I wasn’t taking for granted. Thank you for the ones I forgot.  Thank you for the sorrow that makes the joy that much sweeter.  Image