I think everything hit the fan yesterday. And having come off my medicine cold turkey made it work. Since I was on an addictive anti-anxiety med I'm left with withdrawal symptoms. I feel head achy, dizzy and out of touch, like my head is floating somewhere above me.
The first thing that happened is my babysitter told me she is quitting. She's a stay at home Mom who home schools her own girls, and has a ton of stuff on her plate. I've always been stunned by the number of things she is doing. Well, I guess it just got to be too much and she's had to cut back somewhere. Can't blame her there, I know that feeling.
But it sure does make life hard on me. I have to find a new babysitter. And I think I have to find one by Monday. (I wasn't paying half enough attention to the details when she talked to me. I was simply too stunned to keep track of everything she was saying.) My parents arrive in a week to spend the month of December, so that may keep my head above water. Anyway, it's really stressful, and big involved thing to find another babysitter.
I came home with my head spinning, dizzy and out of touch. And the light in the kids room has gone out. It's complicated, but the solution will be finding a new lamp, probably a swag lamp. I ran up to Lowe's. No swag lamps there. The guy tried to sell me something else. By the end I was holding a florescent light while my kids ran circles around the store, and my head spun in the opposite direction.
Finally I left the store without a lamp for the kids room. My head was spinning and pounding. My stomach joined the circus act, clamping down. Without light in their room, the kids ran around the front room, and my room the whole evening. I tried to do some Internet searches, but the screaming, yelling and other kid junk made it impossible.
To make matters worse, my bathroom toilet overflowed last night.
I'm pretty worried about finding a child care solution for the kids. I've got a ton of feelers out. I'm not sure what I'm doing about the light in the kids room.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
Grandpa Charles
My grandfather is dying. He doesn't look like it. He's up walking around, going to check the mail, helping out at the house, and all the usual stuff. But one of the heart valves has basically quit working. They've got him on medicine to help. At the most he has a year.
Last year it was my grandmother who died. She had Alzheimer's. In some ways we were actually relieved when she passed.
Grandpa Charles is 90 years old. He worked hard, and has been retired for all of my life. They owned a farm for years. Think Gentleman farmer here. He had a wonderful garden which he enjoyed. There were sheep out in the pasture. And my grandparents ran the Senior Center in their small town. My grandfather helped the elderly manage their finances, run computers, and so much more.
It is so hard for me to accept that I have probably seen him for the last time. He walked over to check the mail with my two kids jumping and skipping behind him. I watched him restock the squirrel feeder outside their front window.
I am so glad that we could spend this week-end with them. My children are the only great-grand children. They got to see their Great-Grandparents happy, busy and doing normal things. It's not like Ganny last year, in the hospital, hardly even able to speak.
In some ways it's worse.
Last year it was my grandmother who died. She had Alzheimer's. In some ways we were actually relieved when she passed.
Grandpa Charles is 90 years old. He worked hard, and has been retired for all of my life. They owned a farm for years. Think Gentleman farmer here. He had a wonderful garden which he enjoyed. There were sheep out in the pasture. And my grandparents ran the Senior Center in their small town. My grandfather helped the elderly manage their finances, run computers, and so much more.
It is so hard for me to accept that I have probably seen him for the last time. He walked over to check the mail with my two kids jumping and skipping behind him. I watched him restock the squirrel feeder outside their front window.
I am so glad that we could spend this week-end with them. My children are the only great-grand children. They got to see their Great-Grandparents happy, busy and doing normal things. It's not like Ganny last year, in the hospital, hardly even able to speak.
In some ways it's worse.
Thanksgiving
This year we went out to Oregon for Thanksgiving. My grandparents were celebrating their 60th Wedding anniversary on Sunday. Just so happened that the cheapest flight had us leaving Thanksgiving morning, arriving at 12 noon! Happy coincidence, and plus that way I wouldn't have to worry about Thanksgiving dinner.
Well, we got out to the airport on time for our 8:45am flight. The boarding area quietly filled up with other people who made this choice. It was a peaceful morning compared to the chaos of the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. My kids watched as our plane pulled up to the gate and preparations began for us to leave.
That was when things hit the fan. Our flight went on mechanical delay. Immediately the flight schedules flashed thru my head. Being a travel agent, I had checked my own flights in depth. This flight to Salem, OR was only one of two flights per day. If I missed my connection that was it. I checked in at the counter to ask if my assumption was correct. The gate agent pulled up flights and gave me a sad nod of the head. Yep, if the delay lasted too long I was going to be spending the night in Salt Lake City instead of eating Grandma's turkey with my relatives.
I used to work for Delta, as a ticket agent at the Airport. I know to plan for the worst case scenario, so this was something I had thought of. I considered calling my grandparents, but the time change put it at 6:45 am. My son pressed his nose against the window staring at the plane.
"Are we going to get on this one, Mommy?"
"I don't know, baby."
Finally they said it. The engine had a mechanical issue. They needed to replace a certain part. The part was not available at the Dallas hanger, but would have to be flown in. Translation, flight is leaving at 3pm, and we are so dead. Mad rush for the ticket counter. I was the third one in line, and ended up waiting over half an hour.
As I waited I called my grandparents. And then my phone rang, Delta calling me to say that the plane was delayed. Well, obviously I already knew that. I listened to people in front of me frantically try to get re booked on an American Airlines flight. Working out there over 10 years ago left me kind of averse to that plan. American can be stinkers about taking tickets. And then there are the problems with the bags.
I got re booked on a later flight. And Delta agreed to put me up in Salt Lake City for the night. Lots of vouchers were issued to pay for meals.
Now our only problem was that we had a three hour wait till the next flight. Fortunately I found the kids play area. The kids enjoyed that for 2 hours. We grabbed some lunch, and made our flight to Salt Lake City.
No problem getting a hotel there. Our bags also arrived with us. (Doubt that would have happened if we had switched airlines.) And we found ourselves checked into the Comfort Suites for the night. Since we were one of 3 people in the hotel, the manager gave the kids the okay to swim in their shorts. They splashed and ran themselves crazy. After a long day of being trapped in spaces, it was precisely what they needed.
Our next problem was dinner. Many of the places that would normally take our vouchers were closed for Thanksgiving. Our choices were to go back out to the Airport and eat there, go next door and pay $30 in addition to our vouchers for Thanksgiving dinner, or go to Denny's and pay for dinner ourselves. We ended up going to Denny's. Proverbial Thanksgiving at Denny's!
So that was my Thanksgiving, delivered by a very nice fresh faced college student who did magic tricks for my kids. Not what I expected, but I will admit that it was a very calm and relaxed day! For a Holiday that normally stresses the female members of our society, I did quite well. Didn't spend too much money, got to spend the night in a hotel, on someone else's nickle. It wasn't too bad, all things considered. And my kids really did enjoy themselves!
Well, we got out to the airport on time for our 8:45am flight. The boarding area quietly filled up with other people who made this choice. It was a peaceful morning compared to the chaos of the Wednesday before Thanksgiving. My kids watched as our plane pulled up to the gate and preparations began for us to leave.
That was when things hit the fan. Our flight went on mechanical delay. Immediately the flight schedules flashed thru my head. Being a travel agent, I had checked my own flights in depth. This flight to Salem, OR was only one of two flights per day. If I missed my connection that was it. I checked in at the counter to ask if my assumption was correct. The gate agent pulled up flights and gave me a sad nod of the head. Yep, if the delay lasted too long I was going to be spending the night in Salt Lake City instead of eating Grandma's turkey with my relatives.
I used to work for Delta, as a ticket agent at the Airport. I know to plan for the worst case scenario, so this was something I had thought of. I considered calling my grandparents, but the time change put it at 6:45 am. My son pressed his nose against the window staring at the plane.
"Are we going to get on this one, Mommy?"
"I don't know, baby."
Finally they said it. The engine had a mechanical issue. They needed to replace a certain part. The part was not available at the Dallas hanger, but would have to be flown in. Translation, flight is leaving at 3pm, and we are so dead. Mad rush for the ticket counter. I was the third one in line, and ended up waiting over half an hour.
As I waited I called my grandparents. And then my phone rang, Delta calling me to say that the plane was delayed. Well, obviously I already knew that. I listened to people in front of me frantically try to get re booked on an American Airlines flight. Working out there over 10 years ago left me kind of averse to that plan. American can be stinkers about taking tickets. And then there are the problems with the bags.
I got re booked on a later flight. And Delta agreed to put me up in Salt Lake City for the night. Lots of vouchers were issued to pay for meals.
Now our only problem was that we had a three hour wait till the next flight. Fortunately I found the kids play area. The kids enjoyed that for 2 hours. We grabbed some lunch, and made our flight to Salt Lake City.
No problem getting a hotel there. Our bags also arrived with us. (Doubt that would have happened if we had switched airlines.) And we found ourselves checked into the Comfort Suites for the night. Since we were one of 3 people in the hotel, the manager gave the kids the okay to swim in their shorts. They splashed and ran themselves crazy. After a long day of being trapped in spaces, it was precisely what they needed.
Our next problem was dinner. Many of the places that would normally take our vouchers were closed for Thanksgiving. Our choices were to go back out to the Airport and eat there, go next door and pay $30 in addition to our vouchers for Thanksgiving dinner, or go to Denny's and pay for dinner ourselves. We ended up going to Denny's. Proverbial Thanksgiving at Denny's!
So that was my Thanksgiving, delivered by a very nice fresh faced college student who did magic tricks for my kids. Not what I expected, but I will admit that it was a very calm and relaxed day! For a Holiday that normally stresses the female members of our society, I did quite well. Didn't spend too much money, got to spend the night in a hotel, on someone else's nickle. It wasn't too bad, all things considered. And my kids really did enjoy themselves!
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
Jesus
Monday night was our weekly FHE group. (Family Home Evening) Think Sunday school, except in the home, with the parents teaching the lesson. Great idea, and it's a cultural thing in our church. So single people tend to form FHE groups because you can't give a lesson to just yourself, that's personal scripture study. And me, as a single Mom, I do NOT have time to plan and do a lesson with the kids each week. Instead we show up.
This week we watched a video showing passion week. My son curled up on my lap to watch with me. We've read our Bible stories together before, but there was something different about seeing it on a video. This was live action, not cartoon. My son tipped his head close to mine, and I whispered explanations in his ear.
"See how Jesus is breaking the bread, and passing it? Jesus is showing them the sacrament."
I nearly wept for him to witness Jesus being whipped. I could feel his body tighten. I explained the crown of thorns, and he scrunched down as if to get away from the thorns on his head. I whispered reminders of how Jesus took our sins upon him to break the bounds of sin and death.
We watched Jesus come up to Golgotha. Sorrow filled my being as I knew what was to come. I know Jesus's death was vital to my salvation. It was a gift given in love to me, something that I should rejoice in. But I feel such deep sorrow that he did have to die.
A sharp gasp came from my son as they put the nails in his hands. His eyes widen to realize exactly what had happened. Yes, Jesus went thru that for you and me. I held him close.
....................................................................................
That evening my son's bedtime prayers were influenced by the video. He thanked our Heavenly Father for Jesus and the sacrifice on the cross. I could hear the depth of conviction in his voice. There was sorrow, and awe that someone would really go thru that. It was a heartfelt prayer of thanks for the gift of salvation that was bought with Christ's blood.
And my heart sang to see my young child grow in his personal relationship with his Savior.
This week we watched a video showing passion week. My son curled up on my lap to watch with me. We've read our Bible stories together before, but there was something different about seeing it on a video. This was live action, not cartoon. My son tipped his head close to mine, and I whispered explanations in his ear.
"See how Jesus is breaking the bread, and passing it? Jesus is showing them the sacrament."
I nearly wept for him to witness Jesus being whipped. I could feel his body tighten. I explained the crown of thorns, and he scrunched down as if to get away from the thorns on his head. I whispered reminders of how Jesus took our sins upon him to break the bounds of sin and death.
We watched Jesus come up to Golgotha. Sorrow filled my being as I knew what was to come. I know Jesus's death was vital to my salvation. It was a gift given in love to me, something that I should rejoice in. But I feel such deep sorrow that he did have to die.
A sharp gasp came from my son as they put the nails in his hands. His eyes widen to realize exactly what had happened. Yes, Jesus went thru that for you and me. I held him close.
....................................................................................
That evening my son's bedtime prayers were influenced by the video. He thanked our Heavenly Father for Jesus and the sacrifice on the cross. I could hear the depth of conviction in his voice. There was sorrow, and awe that someone would really go thru that. It was a heartfelt prayer of thanks for the gift of salvation that was bought with Christ's blood.
And my heart sang to see my young child grow in his personal relationship with his Savior.
Monday, November 12, 2007
The ex
A friend of mine was gossipping yesterday. For some reason she had heard alot about my ex lately. He's gone off the deep end. He's become very controlling.
His new wife states that she has almost no privacy. They work at the same place. When either one of them is off work, he insists that they be together. When church people come over to visit her, he has to be in the same room to hear what they are telling her.
And even worse, I finally know why he refuses to pick up my son for visitation. He's mad at me that the divorce/visitation didn't go his way. He blames me for a long string of things. He talks about the fact that he wasn't allowed to adopt my son. My son coming to visit is the only thing that is left that he can control. Basically he rationalizes his refusal saying that if I had wanted him to be my ex's father, I would have let him adopt him. It's a very convoluted logic.
I have always said that when I married him he was slightly off, but nothing terrible. Over the course of our marriage things went down hill. He became less and less able to cope with social situations. His understanding of mores of behavior diminished. In the conversation I had yesterday I found out exactly how true that was. My friend, who knew him during our marriage, confirmed, yes, he's loosing it. He's going crazy and driving his new wife crazy with him. He's unstable, and has lost touch with reality.
His new wife states that she has almost no privacy. They work at the same place. When either one of them is off work, he insists that they be together. When church people come over to visit her, he has to be in the same room to hear what they are telling her.
And even worse, I finally know why he refuses to pick up my son for visitation. He's mad at me that the divorce/visitation didn't go his way. He blames me for a long string of things. He talks about the fact that he wasn't allowed to adopt my son. My son coming to visit is the only thing that is left that he can control. Basically he rationalizes his refusal saying that if I had wanted him to be my ex's father, I would have let him adopt him. It's a very convoluted logic.
I have always said that when I married him he was slightly off, but nothing terrible. Over the course of our marriage things went down hill. He became less and less able to cope with social situations. His understanding of mores of behavior diminished. In the conversation I had yesterday I found out exactly how true that was. My friend, who knew him during our marriage, confirmed, yes, he's loosing it. He's going crazy and driving his new wife crazy with him. He's unstable, and has lost touch with reality.
Why did Daddy leave?
"Mommy, you don't love Daddy any more, do you?" my son asked me as we ate lunch.
"No, I don't." It was a sad statement of a fact. The children still love their father, but I don't. Divorce is a sad, hard reality.
"Mommy, why did you and Daddy divorce?" my talkative little girl asked. "Daddy says it's because you didn't treat Aaron and Aubry good."
Yes, the step-kids were always a point of dissension for us. When we got married neither one of them lived with us. And it appeared that they would always live with their mother. They came for holidays, and that was okay. It was tons of work for me because my ex wasn't an involved parent. I didn't know what the kids wanted to eat until I had already set it before them, and my ex yelled at me for expecting them to eat that.
Later each of them came to live with us. My step son, Aaron was the first. He was a very loving, gentle child of 5 who constantly wet his pants. He was distraught that his mother allowed him to live with his father.
"Give him chores," was the order from my ex. "Make him do the vacuuming, it's an easy chore and he can do it."
So suddenly I was the task master of a strange child. I had to oversee Aaron getting his chores done. It was a year long struggle before we both learned how to do this. During that time there were some awful arguments. I had no clue how to motivate a 5 year old child, and my ex grew increasingly frustrated with my inability to complete a relatively easy task.
But after a year, things evened out. I began to know this child, and truly love him. He was a sweet kid, with a very easy disposition. He joked and laughed, and was a lot of fun to be around. Chores were still hard on both of us.
And then suddenly it was decided that since I did such a good job with Aaron, I should have at Aubry for a while. Aubry was 9 when she came to live with us. She back talked, and drove her mother insane. Homework was a struggle, and basic tasks were impossible. Since I did such a great job getting her brother under control, and making the wetting accidents disappear, maybe I could turn this mouthy, moody kid into the delight her brother had become.
She moved into my house angry. Angry at her mother for giving up on her. Angry at me for supposedly being the solution to her problems. Angry at her father for divorcing her mom. She was dead set to prove I was not the miracle worker. And boy did she prove it! I thinks she ran away 2 times, and once we called the police to help find her.
I had no clue what to do with a distraught 9 year old. What do you do when a child starts throwing things at you. My ex said, make her do the vacuuming, her brother did it good. Instead she tore the bedroom apart, throwing clothes everywhere, flipping a bed over, and ripping up sheets.
Needless to say, my ex couldn't understand how it happened. He blamed me for everything.
So, Daddy has told my two that the reason we got a divorce was because I couldn't treat Aaron and Aubry right.
"Sweetheart, it's true," I said in a soft voice. "Mommy didn't know what Aaron and Aubry liked. I didn't know Aaron didn't like yogurt, and I tried to serve him yogurt."
Both of my kids looked at their food.
"Aaron doesn't like yogurt?" one of them asked.
"Nope! And I tried to give him yogurt. Daddy didn't tell me that Aaron didn't like yogurt. I didn't know, so I did it wrong."
Each kid looked at their plate, thinking about this. So Mommy was admitting she did wrong. Daddy told the truth. But Mommy wasn't a bad Mommy, I could see the look of relief on their faces.
"And Aubry was like you, sweet heart, she didn't like to get up in the morning, and doesn't want breakfast. I tried to get her up, and it made her angry. But Daddy didn't tell me, so I tried to get her up. If I had known, it would have done it differently."
I could see each kid nod to themselves. And then they each perked up. They had the answer they needed and could feel at peace about it.
Later as I thought about it, I realized I had said the most perfect thing. I didn't contradict Daddy. I didn't force my kids to choose between which version of the story they wanted to believe. Instead I stuck to one story, and wove the truth back into it. I didn't make one parent the hero, but instead spread the blame on both of us. And I told them the truth in a way that made perfect sense to them. They each know what it's like to be served food they don't like, to have their routines interrupted.
As the conversation ended I could see each kid brighten. There was a peace, and joy to them. I thank my Heavenly Father for such amazing, inspired words that came out of my mouth.
"No, I don't." It was a sad statement of a fact. The children still love their father, but I don't. Divorce is a sad, hard reality.
"Mommy, why did you and Daddy divorce?" my talkative little girl asked. "Daddy says it's because you didn't treat Aaron and Aubry good."
Yes, the step-kids were always a point of dissension for us. When we got married neither one of them lived with us. And it appeared that they would always live with their mother. They came for holidays, and that was okay. It was tons of work for me because my ex wasn't an involved parent. I didn't know what the kids wanted to eat until I had already set it before them, and my ex yelled at me for expecting them to eat that.
Later each of them came to live with us. My step son, Aaron was the first. He was a very loving, gentle child of 5 who constantly wet his pants. He was distraught that his mother allowed him to live with his father.
"Give him chores," was the order from my ex. "Make him do the vacuuming, it's an easy chore and he can do it."
So suddenly I was the task master of a strange child. I had to oversee Aaron getting his chores done. It was a year long struggle before we both learned how to do this. During that time there were some awful arguments. I had no clue how to motivate a 5 year old child, and my ex grew increasingly frustrated with my inability to complete a relatively easy task.
But after a year, things evened out. I began to know this child, and truly love him. He was a sweet kid, with a very easy disposition. He joked and laughed, and was a lot of fun to be around. Chores were still hard on both of us.
And then suddenly it was decided that since I did such a good job with Aaron, I should have at Aubry for a while. Aubry was 9 when she came to live with us. She back talked, and drove her mother insane. Homework was a struggle, and basic tasks were impossible. Since I did such a great job getting her brother under control, and making the wetting accidents disappear, maybe I could turn this mouthy, moody kid into the delight her brother had become.
She moved into my house angry. Angry at her mother for giving up on her. Angry at me for supposedly being the solution to her problems. Angry at her father for divorcing her mom. She was dead set to prove I was not the miracle worker. And boy did she prove it! I thinks she ran away 2 times, and once we called the police to help find her.
I had no clue what to do with a distraught 9 year old. What do you do when a child starts throwing things at you. My ex said, make her do the vacuuming, her brother did it good. Instead she tore the bedroom apart, throwing clothes everywhere, flipping a bed over, and ripping up sheets.
Needless to say, my ex couldn't understand how it happened. He blamed me for everything.
So, Daddy has told my two that the reason we got a divorce was because I couldn't treat Aaron and Aubry right.
"Sweetheart, it's true," I said in a soft voice. "Mommy didn't know what Aaron and Aubry liked. I didn't know Aaron didn't like yogurt, and I tried to serve him yogurt."
Both of my kids looked at their food.
"Aaron doesn't like yogurt?" one of them asked.
"Nope! And I tried to give him yogurt. Daddy didn't tell me that Aaron didn't like yogurt. I didn't know, so I did it wrong."
Each kid looked at their plate, thinking about this. So Mommy was admitting she did wrong. Daddy told the truth. But Mommy wasn't a bad Mommy, I could see the look of relief on their faces.
"And Aubry was like you, sweet heart, she didn't like to get up in the morning, and doesn't want breakfast. I tried to get her up, and it made her angry. But Daddy didn't tell me, so I tried to get her up. If I had known, it would have done it differently."
I could see each kid nod to themselves. And then they each perked up. They had the answer they needed and could feel at peace about it.
Later as I thought about it, I realized I had said the most perfect thing. I didn't contradict Daddy. I didn't force my kids to choose between which version of the story they wanted to believe. Instead I stuck to one story, and wove the truth back into it. I didn't make one parent the hero, but instead spread the blame on both of us. And I told them the truth in a way that made perfect sense to them. They each know what it's like to be served food they don't like, to have their routines interrupted.
As the conversation ended I could see each kid brighten. There was a peace, and joy to them. I thank my Heavenly Father for such amazing, inspired words that came out of my mouth.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Peptobismal Princess
My daughter is quite a fashionista. Being that she's six years old that means her ideas of what goes together are very skewed. If it's bright and colorful, she wants to wear it all. I do mention to her when things clash. Half the time she'll go change, but other days she'll choose to wear the atrocious outfit.
Today she came out wearing some pink Capri jeans with a pink sweat shirt. I kind of stopped to look at her. As she climbed into her chair at the table she declared, it all matches! I nodded, sighing to myself. Yep, it all matched!
As she got out of the car with her pink backpack I was impressed. And it wasn't a good impression. Wow, it's all peptobismal pink!
Today she came out wearing some pink Capri jeans with a pink sweat shirt. I kind of stopped to look at her. As she climbed into her chair at the table she declared, it all matches! I nodded, sighing to myself. Yep, it all matched!
As she got out of the car with her pink backpack I was impressed. And it wasn't a good impression. Wow, it's all peptobismal pink!
Thursday, November 1, 2007
Peace
For the last 11 months I've been on anti-anxiety meds. When my divorce was stalled, it really sent me over the edge. I began having panic attacks. One night I sat in my bedroom simply hyperventilating as the kids tore the house apart around me. There was simply too much I felt I needed to do. I couldn't do it all. And the fact that I was trapped in this limbo state called separation made the stresses of single motherhood ten times worse.
Anti-anxiety medicine made a huge difference. I calmed down, and got my life going again. Instead of being stressed out, I was productive for the first time in about 6 years. With my ex-husband I was always on edge, wondering what was going to set him off. I never was allowed to relax. Until the medicine got in me, I didn't realize how long I had been going like this. Once my mind was allowed to calm down it dawned on me that my life had been running in panic mode during the majority of my marriage.
The medicine allowed me to revisit old neural pathways, to find my non-panicked ways of dealing with life. It shut down a freeway that had been running in my brain, one that was creating a huge traffic jam. The detours were found. And I built new ways of dealing with life.
When the divorce happened I asked my doctor about coming off the medicine. The biggest stressor was gone, and so I wanted to be free of this addictive medicine. But the doctor said no, he would like me to stay on it for longer, just to insure that I really have healed. In September though I began to notice that my ability to deal with normal stressor had seriously diminished. At one point I even felt myself beginning to panic. I could feel the physical sensations, like I had gotten myself back on that tortured freeway.
I reduced my dose. My doctor would have a cow if he found out. But anyone familiar with the history of digitalis knows that sometimes the more effective dose is the smaller dose.
And the difference has been astounding. Peace. I have peace. There are clean clothes all over my front room, my children's bedroom looks like a tornado hit it. I am at rest. I am not stressed out. It's a miracle. Daily I am finding new and better ways to deal with the kids.
We have a camping trip this week-end. What with Halloween, I haven't talked alot about it. And I haven't stressed myself to the end of my rope either. We might make it up there for Friday and Saturday night, or we might make only one night. It doesn't matter. I'm not pressuring myself to do everything. I'm accepting what I'm capable of, and coming to terms with who I am.
Not always succeeding, mind you. Don't talk to me about Thanksgiving and going to Oregon, that's still on the stress fest bus.
Peace, my peace I leave with you, not as world knows peace. Jesus's words are becoming more true in my life. I've noticed that my prayers with the children are gaining more soul. I've given the sacrifice of prayer, praying with them when I didn't want to. And now I'm reaping the rewards. My kids listen to me pray as my spirit rejoices in this new gift, peace.
Anti-anxiety medicine made a huge difference. I calmed down, and got my life going again. Instead of being stressed out, I was productive for the first time in about 6 years. With my ex-husband I was always on edge, wondering what was going to set him off. I never was allowed to relax. Until the medicine got in me, I didn't realize how long I had been going like this. Once my mind was allowed to calm down it dawned on me that my life had been running in panic mode during the majority of my marriage.
The medicine allowed me to revisit old neural pathways, to find my non-panicked ways of dealing with life. It shut down a freeway that had been running in my brain, one that was creating a huge traffic jam. The detours were found. And I built new ways of dealing with life.
When the divorce happened I asked my doctor about coming off the medicine. The biggest stressor was gone, and so I wanted to be free of this addictive medicine. But the doctor said no, he would like me to stay on it for longer, just to insure that I really have healed. In September though I began to notice that my ability to deal with normal stressor had seriously diminished. At one point I even felt myself beginning to panic. I could feel the physical sensations, like I had gotten myself back on that tortured freeway.
I reduced my dose. My doctor would have a cow if he found out. But anyone familiar with the history of digitalis knows that sometimes the more effective dose is the smaller dose.
And the difference has been astounding. Peace. I have peace. There are clean clothes all over my front room, my children's bedroom looks like a tornado hit it. I am at rest. I am not stressed out. It's a miracle. Daily I am finding new and better ways to deal with the kids.
We have a camping trip this week-end. What with Halloween, I haven't talked alot about it. And I haven't stressed myself to the end of my rope either. We might make it up there for Friday and Saturday night, or we might make only one night. It doesn't matter. I'm not pressuring myself to do everything. I'm accepting what I'm capable of, and coming to terms with who I am.
Not always succeeding, mind you. Don't talk to me about Thanksgiving and going to Oregon, that's still on the stress fest bus.
Peace, my peace I leave with you, not as world knows peace. Jesus's words are becoming more true in my life. I've noticed that my prayers with the children are gaining more soul. I've given the sacrifice of prayer, praying with them when I didn't want to. And now I'm reaping the rewards. My kids listen to me pray as my spirit rejoices in this new gift, peace.
ARGH!! Halloween!
Canibal pumpkin
Originally uploaded by Sunflower Central
I think this pictures captures the spirit of this Halloween the best. If you click on it you will be directed to my photo stream, and you can see our many other pictures.
We were the Pirate family this year, and had a total blast with it! Swords raised, the kids went screaming, demanding candy. Our pumpkins were even gruesome. I actually carved three though you won't see the last one. There is Mr. Worm head, who got high points from local kids for gross out value. Also grossed out my co-workers when he went to work with me. The Cannibal pumpkin seems to be a favorite with adults. I wish I had taken a few shots of him lit up because he was simply amazing glowing with the flickering candle. And then there was the gourd attacked one. It has bumpy gourds sticking out it, kind of like weird colored pustules. Really strange!
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