Hitting the Wall

Most days I am asked how I manage to do all the things I do.  Usually my answer is something along the lines of, “It is what it is.”  You may quote me on that.  Everything that I have in life is mine to deal with, and there is fat lot I can do about it.  I can ignore it, but it isn’t going to go away.  So how do I deal with life as I know it?  One step at a time.  One moment at a time.  One breath at a time.  Some days, I roll over and put one foot on the floor at a time, and the only thing I can find to be thankful for, is another day vertical.  For me, that is enough.   It is okay.  I don’t want everyone to feel sorry for me.  I can do this.  I have been doing this for a long time now.  I like to stay busy, over-thinkers need to stay busy.  Otherwise, they end to find themselves thinking too much, which leads to trouble (not that I would know).

 The truth is that I go and go until I hit the wall, and then I stop. Then I rest, but that is because I am forced to do so. Sometimes friends invite me out to have fun, and when they do, I go.  I know it is good to have time away, so I do.  That is why I have been exercising so much in the last three months; it serves as a good stress reliever.  That, and I insist it is time to lose some weight for good (down 29 pounds).

Here is the thing.  I can be angry about things and situations when I need to be, because I know that with everything that happens, God is in control.  I can yell at God. God can take it; really big shoulders you know.  When things don’t make sense, it is really okay.  There isn’t anything I can do about it, except let it go.  Let God make sense out of the nonsense, and when I hit the wall, stop, pick myself up, and go again until the next time, knowing that there will always be another wall around somewhere.

Seriously, another phone call!

I got a phone call yesterday from Jacob’s neurologist. Seriously, another phone call! When I say it is the doctor calling, it is the doctor. Not her nurse, she herself. This time it was about Jacob’s labs that they had previously declared “normal.” Apparently, just kidding folks, not so much. What neurology sees as normal, the endo sees as “slightly abnormal” and worth investigation. Now we are off to yet another specialist next month to see if they feel his thyroid is malfunctioning enough due to the flat pituitary glad to treat him with medication. Did you follow that? Are you as exhausted by this whole thing, because I am. Quite honestly, I have not even told Jacob yet. He is 13, and going through that angry boy stage and I am just not going to go there right now. I would appreciate your continued prayer for my sanity. Again, I thank you who read my blog and love us. It means more to me than words could ever express!

Nothing short of thankful

The past several months have been rough, and it occurred to me that I never said thank you to the people who mean the most to me, my friends. In my life, my friends are my family. I will be the first to admit I have been on an emotional roller coaster and taken you all with me, and I appreciate your willingness to travel the distance. The truth is, we are our own worst enemy, and I am honestly my own. For those of you who got text messages from my kids or tagged in pictures, sorry about that. Mommy finally learned how to lock her phone! I will continue to apologize to those friends that I drove absolutely insane, who are no longer speaking to me. I miss you, and I ask you to consider forgiving me. Truth be told, I am a different me than I used to be, and I miss me too.

The diagnosis is a flat pituitary gland. That is not the cause of Jacob’s seizures. We don’t have a cause for the seizures, but he has been worked up to the full dose, and no seizures since July. Jacob has been through so much this summer, but has held up so well. He really has been a trooper. With the exception of his pituitary gland, as of right now the rest of his systems seem to be working. They seem to be compensating for his pituitary, at least at this point. So, for now we don’t do anything but watch.

I am so thankful for all you who prayed for us, sent texts, facebook messages, and called to check on us (and my level of sanity). I wish there was a way to explain the importance of having support when you have a child with special needs. If you know someone who does, call them, send them a card, a text message, an e-mail. You don’t have to offer or promise us anything. Often what we need more than anything is just that human connection. Being a parent is hard. Being a parent of a child with special needs is exhausting. I was in a meeting this weekend about special needs ministry, and to hear the words “80% of marriages fail when there is a child with special needs” and to find yourself shaking your head in agreement, well, I guess you are a different person than you once were.

Today I am stronger. Today I am brave. Today, despite everything, I know it is all going to be okay. I thank you all for your love, encouragement, and support!

Not like the movies

You know those families in the movies, where the women all meet at the cemetery together, and hold hands and walk out to the grave together, showing their love and support for each other? I don’t have one of those kind of families. But I am assuming you don’t either. I am just going to assume that those types of families only exist in movies. If you are one of the fortunate few to have a family like this, be thankful

It’s been four years today since my Papaw entered into eternity. I still miss him. Sure, none of us would want him to be here and miserable with Parkinson’s disease, but I still miss his smile, his tooth-less grin. My 2 year old identifies him in pictures. “Momma’s Pa, Momma’s Pa.” What is the most difficult thing about death, is not the one who is gone, but those who are left behind. Funerals are not for the dead; they are to comfort the living. My concern is for those who refuse to live after someone has died. I understand for people who have been in your live essentially forever, and then they are gone, there is a void in your life. I get it. But, all your grief, your sorrow, your pain, is not going to bring you any sense of comfort. It may only add more of the same.

Since once they we are gone, we can’t go back and fix things, or spend more time with someone, shouldn’t we do that now? Shouldn’t we live every day like we are dying? Jump out of perfectly good planes. Travel the world if you possibly can. Do things that scare the crap out of you, and I am pretty sure, that you will thank me once you have. Sure, you may never want to jump out of another plane, but what about that bucket list you wanted to get through? No one is going to do it for you, and really what is the point of dying with regrets?

Why should you care

Why should you care? I will tell you why! Because, I said so. How grown up is that? No, I am not your mother, but the issue is that there are more lives at stake here than your own. That is why you should care. You should care because I took a moment to stop and talk to you about it, and that should make you think that maybe, just maybe this is important to me. Perhaps that is a reason why you should care.

Life is about choices, and not always are they easy ones to make. Sure, you can choose your friends. You can choose your mate. But what about the difficult choices? What about deciding when it is time to move on with your life. When you can no longer follow the path you are on, and you find yourself headed in a completely different direction. What if that direction looks really scary, and the way to get there is quite complicated? Then what do you do? Do you give up? Do you let a dream die, just because it looks far too difficult to accomplish? If we all did that, we would never accomplish anything. We all know the stories of the great failures in life who became successful; Albert Einstein, Abraham Lincoln, Pauly Shore (just throwin’ it out there, you know it was funny).

What about you though? What are you going to contribute? Me? I am going to be the best parent that I can be. When you speak, I will listen. When you need me, I will be there. That is what I can promise you. But what about me? What happens if I fall? Will you help me up? What happens if I jump? Will you catch me?

Driving the Struggle Bus

I will be the first to admit that currently I am driving the struggle bus. There is plenty of room aboard if you wish to ride. There are rules.

1. I am in charge.
2. Sit down and shut up.
3. The radio will play at all times, I am in charge of the station.
4. I will sing loudly, and at times in a British accent if I am feeling saucy.
5. My parking skills are questionable, at best, but you are not permitted to complain.
6. I reserve the right to complain about the driving skills of others, but you may not judge mine (it is my bus, if you don’t like it….get off!)
7. Cursing on my bus does not count (trust me, God and I have it worked out)

That being said, we are moving on. Some people classify themselves as glass half full or glass half empty kind of people, not I. I consider myself more of a, I am just really glad we had something to pour into the glass, kind of girl. I can hear some of you groaning, right now about being all negative. Well, shut up! This is my blog, and I am a realist. I call it like I see it. Life is hard folks, wear a helmet! I mean really, when was the last time poop came out smelling like roses?

There comes a point where you want to go shopping at 2am because if one more person asks you how you are doing with that pathetic look on their face and their head turned to the side, you just might vomit on their shoe! Yes, the kid is still autistic. Yes, the middle one is still a genius (who is now taking up the violin no less). Yes, baby is still two and acts like it. No, my husband still doesn’t have a job. No, he hasn’t looked for one either. No, I don’t care to discuss that today thank you. I know I look tired, and I am well aware that is code for your dark circles have dark circles and we are worried that you are going to go off the deep end. I am absolutely positive the little white lie was invented for me, “I’m fine, thank you.”

While I speak of driving the struggle bus, the one thing I don’t want is people feeling sorry for me. That is the last thing I want. I have people say to me over and over that they don’t know how I do it. How do I work, go to school, have three children, one with autism and seizures, and deal with it all? That I can answer. That is one reason I went back to the gym, was to release some of that stress that I have. If I am having a horrible day, I simply run until I can’t breathe anymore. And the pain it brings is a welcome one. My other answer; one moment at a time. In the morning I put my feet on the floor, I take a deep breath, I get up out of bed, and I put one foot in front of each other. Some days the only thing I can find to be thankful for is another day vertical, and that has to be enough. The thing is, I know it is. Chin up, deep breath, tomorrow will be a better day!

I’m angry (org. date 6/5/12)

God,

I’m angry today, although you are God, you already knew that. You see, I am tired. I am tired of waiting. I thought you had something special planned for me. I thought you were up to something fantastic that I would be completely shocked, but so thrilled about, but I guess I was wrong there, because I am waiting, and nothing. Not a word from you. I send e-mails to the people I know who are “important” and I don’t get any response back. Not even a screw you, go away silly girl! I don’t get it God, it just doesn’t make any sense to me at all. Please God, make some sense of all this. Make this something important. I want to do something to make you proud, but what God, what to do? I need you God I’m angry. I need your help God, please. Help me find my place in this world.

Amen

Home (Org. Publish Date 2/15/12)

Just when you thought nothing you say or do ever makes a difference…someone surprises the crap out of you! I was trying to study today at Starbucks (don’t judge, it’s quieter than my house) and I had forgotten my ear buds at home. I get more done at Starbucks because I put in my earbuds and drown out the conversations going on, otherwise my ADD gets the better of me. Well, damn, I forgot them. So, I was checking my phone and I read an e-mail from a dear friend. It was about something I had done for her. She had sent me the blog posting she was getting ready to publish, and it was all about home. She had struggled for a long time after getting married at a very young age, and her marriage had eventually ended in divorce, and two fantastic kids. We met when we were finishing our bachelor’s degree. She had met a guy, and although he was younger, she really liked him. Eventually they got to the moving in together stage, and she really wanted to buy her own house. Well, the divorce made everything complicated. Her boyfriend wanted to buy the house for her, and she just really didn’t want to do it. She wanted to do this alone. This was for her. When she asked me for my opinion I sent it to her via you-tube. I sent her The Dixie Chicks, A Home.

I mistook the warnings for wisdom
From so called friends quick to advise
Though your touch was telling me otherwise
Somehow I saw you as a weakness
I thought I had to be strong
Oh but I was just young, I was scared, I was wrong

Not a night goes by
I don’t dream of wandering
Through the home that might have been
And I listened to my pride
When my heart cried out for you
Now every day I wake again
In a house that might have been
A home

Guess I did what I did believing
That love is a dangerous thing
Oh but that couldn’t hurt anymore than never knowing

Not a night goes by
I don’t dream of wandering
Through the home that might have been
And I listened to my pride
When my heart cried out for you
Now every day I wake again
In a house that might have been
A home
A home

Four walls, a roof, a door, some windows
Just a place to run when my working day is through
They say home is where the heart is
If the exception proves the rule I guess that’s true

Not a night goes by
I don’t dream of wandering
Through the home that might have been
And I listened to my pride
When my heart cried out for you
Now every day I wake again
In a house that might have been
A home
A home

Well, she and Matt bought the house, and now they are getting married. She is getting her happy ever after, I hope. So congratulations, and I love you very much. I am glad my opinion finally mattered to someone.

“Home is where your rump rests.” Pumbaa

Dan Wheldon, A Guy I Never Knew (Org. Post date 10/23/11)

A week ago, Dan Wheldon, an Indy car driver was killed in a horrific crash. For some reason I have found myself obsessed with the images of the accident over the last week and I can’t figure out why. I didn’t know Dan. I had heard him in a few interviews on the radio, and he was a pretty funny guy. He wasn’t from Indiana, on the contrary, he was from England. We are the same age, he had a wife and two kids. Maybe it is because death is really the one uncertainty in life. Oh, don’t go thinking I have lost my religion, far to the contrary. I find that when people die, especially those I didn’t know I wonder about their eternity. Everyone talked about what a great guy he was, how funny he was, and how this was such a shame that he died. Don’t get me wrong, I couldn’t agree more. The whole premise of the race he was in seems a recipe for disaster anyway. Does no one else see the irony here? If he won the race from starting in the final position he would win 5 million dollars. He was the only racer that had that as an option, and when there was a horrific crash and someone dies, it is the one guy who has the chance at the 5 million! Indy car should give the money to his family anyway.

I do feel for the family in that in the media age his horrific death was broadcast for all the world to see. It can be looked up on the internet and watched over and over. They say his parents were at home in England watching the race. I can only imagine that it must have felt like all the air in the room was sucked out all at once. What a helpless feeling it must have been to see your son’s car fly through the air and burst into flames. This wreck drove grown men to weap uncontrollably. Maybe that is why I have found myself so obsessed over the whole thing because it makes these race car drivers who often time seem bigger than life, a little more human.

So, so long Dan Wheldon, a guy I never knew. They tell me you were a great man, and since “they” tell me what I should believe, “they” must be right. I hope you knew Jesus.

Dear Papa (Org. Post Date 9/25/11)

Dear Papa,

Yesterday was your birthday, no I didn’t forget. You have been gone three years now, and so much has happened. I had another baby, a girl. I thought of you when she was born. I thought what you would have said. You would have said that she looked like you- no hair and no teeth. You always said that about the babies though. You loved the babies so much, and I think especially the little girls.

We miss you Papa, but especially mom and Mamaw. You know she has stopped living since you died. I still send her candy corn every now and then since it is her favorite. I need to send her some, it has been a while. Mom likes to think that you are sitting on the front porch in Heaven rocking baby Chloe, how I wish that were so, but I really don’t think that is the way it works at all. If it were, boy would I have a list of questions for you! Like: What does it smell like there? Can you still get a hug? Does your face hurt because you smile so much? Can you make sure that God puts my house right next door to a 24 hour Super Target that has a Starbucks inside?

If you can see us here, know that we do love you and we do miss you. Tell God to be patient, I’m trying to get it right!

Love Always,
Meg