Last week, I mismanaged our grocery budget. We get $150 per week, but we had eaten out and splurged on some things so by Sunday evening, we only had a couple of bucks left. We hadn't gone shopping for the week and I didn't know what we were going to do. I hadn't talked to Dan about it yet, so I really had only been worrying on it myself. I was also stressing about our internet. We have been on Lifeline internet since we had been on food stamps a couple years back. We were paying $0.64 a month since Midco took over the internet service last summer. We got a letter that starting in May, we were going to need to reapply for the Lifeline. Well, since we both have better jobs now, I knew we were no longer eligible and I didn't know how much it would cost us to start paying for the service we were receiving, but our budget doesn't have a lot of wiggle room right now. We have $90 in savings and are lucky to put an extra $25 in a month. My mind was not in a great place.

Livi and I have a routine that we started a couple of months ago where we read a devotion every night and then say our prayers and chat a little before bed. That night, I was struggling to stay focused and positive about things. When we were saying our nightly prayers my mind wandered to my stresses. By the time Livi was ready to tell me good night, I was blinking back tears. So, even though she was laying beside me on the bed and couldn't see my face, my voice gave me away. 

When she asked what was wrong, I wanted to tell her that I was fine, but I didn't want to lie to her. I didn't want to tell her that because I couldn't say no when I should have, we were out of food money. I didn't want to show her that I had messed up and make her feel insecure. I was ashamed of our food shortage because I was the one who said, "Let's go to Slim Chicken's for dinner," because it's easy and close. My depression was telling me what a miserable mom I was and I didn't want her to see that. But I try not to lie to my kids. Even when I don't like the truth. 

I shouldered my courage and got ready for her to see the raw truth about her momma. I should have realized that my depression was skewing my vision and that Livi's eyes see the world through a whole lot brighter lens.

Livi listened intently while I told her what was going on. Then told me it was ok. She said she was creative and would come up with food ideas from what we had. She asked if I trusted her to figure stuff out and she told me to wait while she headed to the kitchen. She came back in a few minutes later. She was excited that she had things all figured out. 

She told me that we have macaroni and cheese. Enough that we could eat it every night that week. And she could eat lunch at school. We had eggs for breakfast for Dad and I. We had tortillas in the fridge that I could take to work with peanut butter for lunch and we would buy a bag of burritos for Dad to take to work. 

She then asked if Daddy knew we were so broke yet. When I told her I hadn't talked to him yet, she headed to the living room. She told him that we were going to be eating macaroni and he would have burritos because we were out of money. She came back and told me that he was neutral and just said, "OK."

She proceeded to explain to me how we use the internet to play games and watch TV and that's our main form of entertainment, but we don't NEED it. We could live without it if we needed to. She said, "but I don't think that will happen because I know you'll figure it out, Mom. You always figure it out." 

Thank you, Jesus, for the blessing of my Olivia. For her joy in life and her unwavering nature. Thank you for letting me learn from her. Help me to learn to have as much faith in you as she has in me. Amen.

Beginnings

Last Sunday, the new show, Fear the Walking Dead, started. Since we don't do cable, Dan and Livi went to visit some friends to watch the show. I stayed home. My anxiety started kicking in when we were watching The Walking Dead before, so I have to abstain. I was pretty excited though, about a nice quiet Sunday evening to myself. I read some, I painted some, I did some word puzzles, etc. This weekend, I'm feeling a bit more reflective so I decided it was time to write something.

As many of you know, Dan and I quit our jobs at the school bus lot and start new jobs tomorrow at an in-bound call center here in town. We've both worked there before, and enjoyed it, so we are eager for the change and especially the financial boost this will give our family. We are also starting up our new weekly schedule back to the gym three times a week and Dan's World of Warcraft nights. Livi has homework in third grade which adds a new dimension to the fun of cramming things into our evening. We went from t-shirt and jeans jobs to a business casual atmosphere. Dan only owns three polo shirts and I have scrounged enough things together to have five days of outfits. And we're switching from getting our last part time, weekly pay check this Friday to waiting almost a month for the full time checks to kick in. Just getting back to work from summer break, September rent won't be paid until our first full check, which will hopefully be before October rent is due. There are some changes and some stressors in my near future.

All of these changes and stressors are daunting. I don't want this good change to trigger a relapse in my depression. It scares me. The fear of the cycle of depression, that I know will be back around at some point, almost scares me into paralysis. I certainly don't need to create a self-fulfilling prophecy.
As I was pondering this, and checking facebook, I ran across a quote a friend shared.

"The opposite of depression is not happiness, but vitality." -Andrew Solomon

This was followed up by a short essay by Elizabeth Gilbert who likened depression to a stagnate state where as vitality is movement and change. That's exactly what I needed to hear tonight. I may be scared stiff of my depression. If you've even been in the blackness, you know what I mean that the fear of darkness taints your light. If I've just confused you, I pray you never need to understand. But what I've taken from this is to just do something. The best thing I can do to keep fighting my depression and not let fear sabotage these new beginnings, is to just keep going. Keep moving. Walk in faith that all this is for our good and taking us to a better place. I can't make the fear go away, but I can keep moving in spite of it. Today I can. There may come a day when I can't, but today I can. Today I will. Today I am blessed and I will milk my blessings for all they are worth!

Chicken

Yep, I'm a big chicken. I haven't posted anything lately because I didn't want to share with everyone that we have done terribly. July was a bad month for both our dieting and going to the gym.  We fell off the wagon pretty hard and now Dan and I both have to quit drinking soda again.  *sigh* I finally decided to share, because everybody else struggles, too.  Right?

But, on to better things.  We started back at the gym last week and we're eating at home, if not exactly what is best for us. We will be stricter on the diet once we are working again and there is some income coming in.

I have been in a remission, of sorts, from my depression this past week.  I don't know what happened, but the anxiety has quieted and I'm happy. I'll take it, but it worries me. I'm trying to enjoy the good and take advantage of the benefits of extra energy and motivation without worrying too much about how bad it will suck when this cycle is over again.

I have been wanting to paint. I haven't painted in years and for a creative person, that's just dumb. I haven't been writing, either. I even bought paint and I have a couple tiny canvas boards I can work on but I haven't started yet. This is proof that the anxiety is still present and I'm still being a chicken. I'm afraid to start a project for fear of messing it up. How can I mess up what I haven't started, you ask? Good question. I don't know but that's where my head is. I have lots of excuses to not paint, but no real reason. I'll let you know when I get something started. I'm hoping for tomorrow. Tonight we have the gym and I'm thinking up ideas but tomorrow is open.

I did, however, design myself some new stationery since my sis started a snail mail campaign. I've been writing her and I'm going to write my big sister too. Not sure if my other sis or the sis-in-law want in or not, but if anyone reading this wants in on it, let me know and I'll put you on my list. It felt nice to design something even if it wasn't a major project. Just one of those things I need to be doing to take care of me that I have not been doing.

Also on the topic of taking care of me, I'm going to a Red Tent meeting this week. Not sure what that will be like, but it sounds refreshing and empowering. I'll share more next week once I know how it goes. The same time my remission hit, several people contacted me for social stuff and it's been so good for me to be around friends again. I get to be a hermit when things are hard so I don't have to drag other people down. I'm doing better now. Here's praying that it lasts! And here's to establishing some good patterns in my up mood that will help carry me through when the rough is back.  :)

Bad blogger...

Yep, I'm a bad blogger. Over a month since my last post. I'll trust no one is desperately awaiting my newest post but I apologize for the delay as you're obviously interested in our progress.

So, on to news. four weeks ago, Dan and I started our new diet on a Monday and then weighed in on Thursday of the same week. We probably should have weighed before the diet started to see how weight loss was affected, but we didn't. The good news is, when we weighed in after two months at the gym and four days on the diet, I weighed 297.8 pounds, a loss of just over 11 pounds.  Dan lost 12 pounds. We haven't weighed in for a month again now, but we plan to weigh in this evening.

We've actually done really well on our new eating plan. We're not hungry and we're getting more protein and veg with fewer and better carbs. It's been a lot easier than I thought it would be. We eat five times a day and usually grab at least one protein shake a day for an easy meal. They are much better than anticipated. I started out using L-glutamine to help with cravings and I don't need it anymore. My moods seem to be more stable based on a better diet also. We did crash and burn a little this weekend, but we're back in the groove today.

Our biggest concern is the overall cost of eating. Lean protein is not cheap. We have been watching for sales and such, but this is another area where the protein shakes have helped. We'll need to get another tub of protein soon, but it is cheaper than meat per serving and even eggs, lately. Our little meals tend to be predictable; scrambled eggs, a shake or a couple hard boiled eggs. Our bigger meals run the gamut from chili, taco salad, salad with chicken breast, etc. Dan's done a really great job of making some pretty yummy stuff out of a stricter list of ingredients.

That's all for now.  Hope to have new weigh ins soon!

Little bitty baby steps

Whew! Today's workout totally kicked my butt and Dan's, too! But we both made it through and Melissa, our trainer, says we've been building up endurance. I don't really see that, but I trust her. We started out with 300 meter rows as fast as you can, then you rest while your partner does one, and you trade off three times. I'm not that great at rowing so I was immediately anxious about putting my partner behind everyone else. I kept moving and Dan says I tore it up. I was still the last one done, but I was on my last set when everyone else finished and Dan, Melissa and my partner were all cheering me on, so that was kind of awesome. :) It didn't feel awesome then, cuz my throat was dry and my chest hurt and I was exhausted already, but looking back, it kinda was. :) The other good thing about today's workout was the walking part. She has the rest of the group run a ways, but Dan and I had four laps to walk on the street out front. She doesn't want us impacting our joints with running yet. I hate walking though. Walking has never helped me feel fitter, stronger, leaner, or healthier. Walking makes my back hurt badly, even when I squeeze my glutes like Melissa tells me to. Today, my back didn't even start to hurt until the fourth lap, which is definite progress! Next week is our benchmark week and our weigh in's, so I'll have some more tangible measures to look at, but I know I'm getting stronger and that can only be a good thing.

On the diet side of things, Dan and I are gonna kick it hard core starting next week. First, we're spending a weekend at Momma and Daddy's eating yummy home-cooked foods and then we're going to try to get a new food plan put into action during our three week unpaid vacation before summer school. Week one is the carb depletion week. I know we can do this stuff, it's just planning ahead enough to make it work that's the trouble. With three weeks, we should be able to figure out what we need to do ahead and get systems streamlined enough that once we are back to work, we can keep it going. Last time we tried this, I was pretty worried about cravings, but I think I've got a handle on those now. On the educational front, a good friend recommended reading The Diet Cure by Julia Ross. It basically talks about all the deficiencies in our diets, even if we're eating that right foods. She uses amino acids, the LEGOs of proteins, to help correct imbalances in the body. Of the eight imbalances that she describes, I suffer from at least five. Two of the biggest issues for me are in chapter ONE Depleted Brain Chemistry: The Real Story Behind "Emotional" Eating and chapter THREE Unstable Blood Sugar; Carb Addiction, Hypoglycemia, Diabetes, and Adrenal Exhaustion. It's not that it was new to me that I have these issues, it was just new to me that there may actually be a road to health that's a little less rocky than the one I've been traveling on. One amino that helps curb the carb cravings, due to either emotional eating or unstable sugars is L-glutamine. I have been taking 850 mg of L-glutamine four times a day for almost a week now. I've noticed two things about the effects so far. The first realization was that when I had a chance, soda doesn't sound as good and after a hard day, we still had ice cream in the freezer. Amazed? Me, too. The second thing I realized is that when Dan says, "Hey, let's hit McD's for a soda," I still say, "Sure, why not?" because I can't say no when someone offers me food or beverages. These things are reasons I need therapy and I'm pretty sure there is not amino to fix that, however, as Dan and I are on the same page, some of this should get easier when we start making food changes.

I'm very happy with the L-glutamine so far and plan to read The Mood Cure, also by Julia Ross, in the next few days to see what I can do to help with my depression. I'm hooked on the idea of solutions to get me through rough patches without more drugs, but don't take my word for it. Read the book for yourself and talk to your doctor for verification. I'm just guessing and stumbling around to find what works for me, get the facts from a more reliable source before you try new stuff like this. Buy the books or check them out at the library if you think they might help. They even address PCOS in The Diet Cure, which I have to admit I was very surprised to see. Nobody seems to know what it is, even when you talk to docs sometimes, so any new information is a well-appreciated tool.

If you do choose to check out Julia's books, start a new eating or exercising plan, let me know! I'd love to support your journey.

Kicked off or kicked in the teeth?

Last Monday, we were pumped to kick off our 42 day eating challenge to change up our eating habits and begin the adjustment into a food-as-fuel mindset. It was a rough day, but not one that surprised me over all.

We had breakfast at 6:30am and headed to work. We were done with our first shift at work around nine. We called the doctor's office to make an appointment for an infection Dan had on his thumb. We got an appointment for 9:40 so we headed their straight from work. By the time we got home, we had already screwed up our "eat every three to four hours rule." We had thought that it was good to aim for four, but have since decided that we'll need to aim at eating every three hours and only go four if things go awry. So, we ate our healthy, low-carb lunch at eleven. We didn't do the gym that day because we planned on Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday morning last week. We weren't hungry again when it was time to go back to work at two, so we planned on eating as soon as we got home from work.

Once we were off work, we picked up Livi from Boys and Girls Club and headed home. I cooked up hamburger to make hamburger helper for the kids when I realized we didn't have milk. Payton didn't want hamburger helper so I let him drive to the store so we could get milk and then he got Taco Bell for himself. When we were on the way home, the car crunched and jerked and ground to a halt. Payton handled it very well. Our tire was completely flat. I didn't know what had caused it to pop, but I was a little worried we had more going on than just a flat tire. We had a good tire in the trunk just no jack. I called the roadside assistance number and they sent a guy out. While we were waiting the 45 minutes for the guy to show up, I called and let Dan know what was up. Payton needed to use the restroom, so he headed home and Dan sent Livi to get the milk because we were less than two blocks from home. After Dan finished making the hamburger helper and feeding Livi, he came out to see me. The tire guy came out and couldn't get his jack under our car because it was too low to the ground. He had Dan help him try to lift the front end a little but he couldn't do enough to get the jack in right. The guy said to have roadside assistance send out a tow truck because they would have the dolly to get under the car and get it up enough to get the tire changed. I called the roadside assistance as the tire guy drove off into the cloudy, drizzly evening. Once I explained to the roadside assistance lady what the tire guy told us, she told me couldn't call a tow truck to change a tire. We could call for a tire change, or a tow truck, but not both. By now it was after seven thirty and I'd been in the drizzle and not eaten dinner. I had handled everything pretty well until this, but when she repeatedly told me she couldn't do what we needed I had all I could take. Once I start to cry, things are not going to get better so I just handed the phone to Dan. He finally got her to call a tow company and they said they would change a tire. So, after fifteen minutes on the phone, we finally had another 55 minutes to wait for the tow truck.

At this point, Dan and I gave up on low carb day and he sent me home to eat some of the hamburger helper and get Livi started getting reawdy for bed. Once the tow guy showed up, he let us know that the lower ball joint went out and something sliced the tire when it happened. He was very nice and had a nice lady with him and they were sympathetic to our cause. We had him tow the car to Slimmer's, our mechanic. Slimmer's had already given us an estimate for about eight hundred dollars worth of suspension work, so we had a clue of what we were in for. Dan and I walked home in the rain.

We got rides for the week to get to work but we had to get up half an hour earlier and stay at work all day, so we gave up on our carb depletion week. Tuesday, I called Slimmer's and he said he'd get us an estimate. He called back right before our second shift and said it could be done late Wednesday, but I had to check to figure out how we could pay for it so I told him I'd call him back. When I called him back five, he said it should be done for us on Thursday. As it happened, it's supposed to be done late Monday morning. This is taking the last of the money we had set aside for the car, the rest of our emergency fund, and a chunk of the money we have set aside for next month's budget. This does not bode well for our summer of five weeks of work.

Edye tells me if we knew how the money was coming in, it isn't faith. I said, if I have to count on God to bail us out, why am I trying so hard to budget and get ahead? Are planning and having faith incompatible??

It just seems like every time Dan and I try to do something to improve our circumstances, something else comes in to kick us in the teeth. Add to all this that school's out in two weeks and Payton is leaving and everything just kept building until I couldn't handle it anymore and I completely melted down on Saturday. I'm so blessed to have a husband who supports me as much as he can and friends who understand and offer sympathy and help.

Today was better. It's always hard to bounce back from a day like yesterday, especially when the circumstances involved haven't changed. But, I spent the day with three people who I love and who love me. Payton ordered chinese for lunch for Mother's day, Livi made me some rainbow loom jewelry and wrote me a song and Dan's momma bought Applebee's for supper since my birthday is tomorrow. I'm not doing so great at the whole one day at a time thing. Thinking that far ahead right now is too overwhelming. But today has some really nice moments.

For now, I'll try to focus on Matthew 6:3.

Take therefore no thought for the morrow: for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.

Amen.

A new approach to food

Over the past two weeks, Dan has been to the gym three times each week, and I made it three times and then just once. We took Saturday off this week, just to sleep in and relax.  It turned out not to be such a relaxing day, after all.

Thursday was our eleventh wedding anniversary. Since we weren't able to do anything to celebrate then and we unexpectedly ended up kid-free on Friday, I decided we should enjoy a date night. Dan agreed so we saw Furious 7 and enjoyed dinner at LongHorns--thanks to Dan's momma. We were still in bed by midnight, which is pretty late for us early risers, but I forgot my meds before bed. This left me in a bit of a funk on Saturday, and Dan has a sore on his hand that was paining him and left him in a funk on Saturday, also. Not so much fun chillin' on a Saturday when you're in pain or just emotionally empty. 

So, today, we had to make up for things we didn't get around to yesterday. We've spent a month at the UgL now, and I've already noticed that I'm stronger. When I got to drive for Livi's field trip just over a week ago, I was on my feet any time I wasn't in the bus and my back wasn't killing me all day. Yay! It was pretty sore last Saturday, but I'll take any progress I can get. Dan decided that we needed to make some serious changes to our eating habits if we're really going to lose weight and be healthy, and I couldn't disagree. The UgL did a 42 day weight loss challenge for folks to start off the New Year with and one of the ladies at the Lab told Dan about it. I haven't gotten into how strict the rest is, but week one is intense. It's your basic concept of cutting the carb cravings and rebooting your metabolism, which is far harder than it sounds. We'll do six days of 20 grams or fewer carbs, switch to eating smaller meals five times a day, and and then we get a cheat/re-fuel meal on Sunday evening. They recommend that we journal daily and track our emotional and physical feel, so I'll try. If you're going to be reading all of these, it could be ugly by Wednesday or Thursday. Caffeine is not disallowed in moderation, however, I generally have my caffeine with a nice serving of sugar, whether in coffee, tea or soda. Detox is not going to be fun, but hopefully, by Friday, I'll be feeling the perks of the purge. Wish us lots of luck! :)  Dan thinks that the caffeine won't be a problem for him because he doesn't think it's really an issue for him, but we shall see...

Oh, yeah, the things we got to do today since we didn't do then yesterday... We sat down and about halfway mapped out our meals for the first three days. The challenge recommends prepping on Sunday and Wednesday. I cooked up four pounds of chicken and cut it into bite sized pieces and weighed it out into Dan sized and Eeka sized portions. It took us forever figuring out what to buy and how much, so that's all we got done tonight. Tomorrow, we'll have scrambled eggs (one whole egg each plus extra whites) with green peppers and mushrooms for breakfast before work. I finally bought a pill fob for my key chain so I can take my metformin with breakfast like I'm supposed to, even if we have to take the eggs to go and eat them in the break room at work. After we get home from our first shift, we'll eat again. Probably a nice salad with chicken since it's ready already and then we'll get Dan to the doc to check out his hand, I'll hit the gym and we'll try to prep the rest of the veggies. We've got a busy day planned but a lot will depend on when we can get Dan to the doc. I'm thinking we might just pack a couple containers of broccoli and chicken that we can zap in the microwave at work and eat before we head out. Dan and I will discuss that in the morning and see if we have time for it. I feel like we didn't do much prep at all, but it already feels better knowing we have something halfway ready to eat. Maybe I could get used to this.

The hardest parts of this challenge are not about the eating. They are mental and financial.  Dan and I spent over forty dollars for three days of food for just us. I'm hoping the stuff after the first week will be much cheaper or we won't make it through the whole challenge simply because we won't have the budget to allow the healthier foods. I hate that this is a drawback to being healthier, but it is. I'm praying for ways to get through this from the financial standpoint to see if we can maintain healthier habits. Dan's wanting to get another job that will get us some room for financial growth, but I don't want to have to go back to cheap carbs until then. Even budget cooks I find online are budgeting on a whole lot more than we have to spend. My friend, Edye, always says how our Daddy in heaven has deep pockets. Here's hoping He wants to pick up the grocery tab this month.

The mental part of this challenge is two fold for me. First of all, it's really easy for me to see all the ways that this won't work, i.e. finances. Pastor Matt said this morning that we need to make a decision and take a step forward even if we're only 51% sure, just to get started. He said we often don't make decisions because we only see one way to go and a hundred reasons it won't work so we quit before we even start. He said we need to have a hundred ideas of where to go and just pick the best one. I've got the whole system backwards, so I'm trying to move forward positively. Today's message was justa knockin' on the door of my brain and I couldn't ignore it, so I'm trying. 

Secondly, we have to change the way we look at food. That's what this challenge is really about. Changing from living to eat to eating to live. Seeing food as fuel, not comfort. Man, that's hard for me to even type out. I just looks so wrong to me. I've known food as love my whole life. Part of me doesn't want to change that. I know I need to change that. I know if I can't change that, I'll never truly be able to lose this weight and be healthy. I KNOW that. I don't doubt it. I can't deny it. It's in caps so it's gotta be true. ;)  But I don't like it. We're going all in on this. I'm gonna give it my best shot because I don't want to be diabetic when I'm 45. I don't want a heart attack before I'm 50. I want to see all of my kids graduate and find their special someone and make me a grandma (years from now, not too soon on that!) I want to be there for them like Momma and Daddy have always been there for me. So I KNOW I have to change the way I look at food. I HAVE to get better or I won't be here for my kiddos. But I still don't like it. And it's a big change and it scares me. Diabetes and heart attacks scare me too, but I think change scares me more. 

Procrastination...

Well, my original plan was to be blogging daily, but Dan said, don't put so much pressure on yourself, just blog weekly.  I thought, good plan. However, as you may have noticed, it's been over two weeks since my last post. Most of the problem is that I need to clean my desk, and sitting down to write is a not-so-subtle reminder, so I avoid writing. Unfortunately, now it is almost three in the morning, and I can't sleep, so here I am at my messy desk in the middle of the night trying to work out some kinks. I'll start with the health adventure and then on to the kinky stuff.

Of the last two weeks, the first was pretty much as I expected. We hit the gym three times, working around work and kids and it was a struggle but we did it. Food was a challenge as it will continue to be for a while, I'm sure. Maybe forever. Week two was a different story.

Week two started out with car trouble that made our Monday gym time impossible. We couldn't go on Tuesday because we were getting the car taken care of. Wednesday was a last minute extra shift at work that Dan had to do and so I took one too. Thursday and Friday I had trips that lasted all day. Dan made it to the gym on Thursday, Friday and Saturday, poor guy. I'm proud of him, but he is one sore puppy. I made it on Saturday.

This is not acceptable to me so I looked back to see what I could have changed and I realized it's my own perspective. On Wednesday, I turned down the extra shift they asked me to do because Payton had an orthodontist appointment and I was going to the gym, but then Dan didn't have a choice on his shift change because Wednesdays are weird work days for him anyway. So, once he said he'd be back at 12:50 (gym being from 12-12;45) I felt that I might as well be back because I had to bring Dan back and I was afraid that the gym wasn't a legit excuse to turn down the shift. They basically count on me doing this particular extra shift when it's needed because it fits in with my regular route and I usually say yes when they ask me to help out. So, I felt pressured. That's not to say they actually pressured me, but I felt pressured. I talked to Dan about this and I realized that going to the gym is vitally important. I have to take care of my health and this is far more important than an extra shift. It's not my fault if they plan on me saying yes and I choose to say no. That's my choice, not theirs. And if I don't take care of myself first, I'll end up with heart problems or diabetes and these could both cost me my CDL and my job. Me first; this is a hard concept for me to swallow. But I'm working on it.


Now, here comes the part where I work out the kinks that are keeping me awake. I can't promise great sense here, so proceed at your own risk.

Payton's move to his dad's is just over a month away. That in itself makes me want to cry. I'm so not ready for this. I know there were only two more years he'd be with me anyway, but this hurts in ways that are hard to explain. I've had the honor of being able to help raise five kids. My step-son lived with us for a year and a half when his mom took him back and we couldn't stop her. My neice lived with us from 13 to 17 and then ran away to get away from us. We let Ash go live with her other mom once her other mom finally wanted to be a mom and Ash felt torn. Now Payton's leaving. He's leaving to be with his best friend/cousin, Brian. He's leaving to work on a better relationship with his dad. He's leaving to try to have a better chance of being noticed by college football scouts. Mostly, he's leaving to spend a year of high school with Brian. I understand this. I know this was a hard choice for him. I know he's trying to be an adult and make adult decisions. I know he's still struggling with leaving. But he's leaving. He's not leaving me, he's going to be there, not leaving here. But he's leaving me. On one hand, four out of five kids I helped raise left me. A seriously heartbreaking track record. On the other hand, my baby boy is leaving. When Aaron and I split up and my depression was making life harder, Payton was my reason to get up in the morning. I'm his stability. I'm the one person who didn't leave him like the siblings. But he's a big chunk of my stability, too. I know people survive this stuff all the time. Livi's going to need me to be strong, but I'm not sure I can...

Getting started

We started our adventure this week and it's been ok, but not great yet. I had breakfast five days and took my meds four of those days. Considering that I haven't been taking my morning meds at all, I feel like this is progress. Now that we have our food stamps for the month, we can plan ahead for breakfasts again and this should be able to become a more steady habit. Cross your fingers!  ;)

We were going to start at the gym on Monday, but Dan couldn't breathe. He was using his rescue inhaler repeatedly and we finally did two breathing treatments with his nebulizer before bed and that seemed to help. Weather changes mess him up. We considered going to the UgL on Tuesday, but Payton had an appointment so we started on Wednesday. I'm still a little sore today.

The last time we went to the UgL, last May, neither Dan nor I was able to complete the workout. We had to give up and go home. We both felt a lot of anxiety about going back and whether or not we could do this. Melissa, our trainer, modified the workout and spent a lot of one on one time with each of us. We made it through, and we are both still a little sore today. But we know we can do this. You'd think that if you've already done it, doing it again shouldn't be such a scary thing, but somehow it really was. But we broke through the wall.

Today, I have a trip that starts at 1:30 and we're going to work out at noon, so I'm gonna sponge bath and change clothes and hope that's good enough. If not, I'll rethink this next time but we don't want to start letting inconveniences stop us already. They really worked to help us be able to do this financially, so I feel like not giving our best would be letting Melissa and Fernando and Erin down as much as ourselves and our kids. I'm trying to be very honest here in the blog too, even when we screw up or backslide, so I hope to be accountable to you all, too. 

Accountability is really hard for me. My depression grabs each minor setback and starts diving into that dark pit that won't let me out. Then I quit talking to anyone I should be accountable to because I don't want to be letting so many people down. I know that most of the people who read this love me. Why else would you be reading this? And you want me to succeed, so instead of reprimands, I am much more likely to get encouragement through my honesty, which is good, because I'm really good at reprimanding myself.

Our foods haven't been great this week but I just updated the budget for April and we don't have the money do to a lot of stupid stuff, like dollar menu or gas station hot dogs. Since we budget our money far better than our time or health, I'm trying to use that as a tool to help us in other areas. No fast food is a good tool. Also, our driver window on the car doesn't roll down, so a drive-thru is a big pain in the tookus. Dan's checking out cook books for cheap, healthy, low carb recipes and we checked all the grocery ads for good deals. We have noticed that there are not a lot of good sales on the things we are looking to buy now that we want to eat healthier. If anyone has some good recipes, especially crock pot stuff, let us know.  :) I keep thinking of freezer meals and stocking up but we just have our little fridge freezer and the idea of prepping twenty meals at a time kinda freaks me out. I don't even think we have room in our kitchen for a project like that.  But I was thinking that maybe if I could prep three or four meals worth of one thing, that would be a start and I could maybe build from there? I'm not sure yet. Guess we'll see how things go.

A Healthy Budget

So, we weighed in at the UgL last night.  I decided that since the other scales weren't agreeing, I'll track my progress with the scale at the gym.  According to that scale, I'm 309.6. Still not a pretty number, but it's a starting place.  My body fat percentage is 46.something. I don't remember what.  Fernando told us that once our accounts are set up, we'll be able to see all of our stats that are recorded and that we'll be doing check ins every six to eight weeks. I think that's all good for me, because it gives me a time frame to look forward to rather than looking for infinitesimal changes every week. Also, if my weight is not changing much but my body fat is changing, or my measurements, I'll be able to see that there is some kind of progress.

I was thinking about the budget thing a lot yesterday, how you have to do your current budget and see how bad you are doing before you can build to make progress. This was my first health budget. It's hard to do because it's painful to look at where you really are, but you will never know if you're making progress if you don't truly know where you started. This got me to thinking about payday loans. Dan and I used to be stuck in a payday loan loop until someone who loved us helped us get out of them, under the conditions that we would never do that again. It was kind of hard to not get a payday loan when things were tight at first. If you've never done that, thank God! If you have done this, you understand how hard it is to change your way of thinking and to get the thought of getting a payday loan out of your head. It occurred to me that Dan and I are living a payday loan lifestyle. We have been looking for short term fixes for long term problems. We are hungry, tired and in a hurry, so we grab a burger off the dollar menu. This does not help our finances, our health, or any other aspect in our lives. It's just a payday loan for our health. In the long run, it's hurting us far more than it's helping us. It's taking money we could be spending on real food, adding unhealthy crap and weight to our bodies and the long term costs of the health problems on the horizon are going to outweigh the cheap up front cost to our finances and our time. As with the payday loans, the interest is killing us.

Just like with the finances, we have to take baby steps to make real changes. I know this is not going to happen all at once. We are going to do well and then bobble and have to get back on track. But we've come miles with our finances and we can do the same with our health. We just have to remember that a stumble is natural, expected and ok. Dan has been working on finding us better meals with lower carbs, and I am now eating breakfast each day so I can take my metformin. Two years ago, my A1C was at 5.9. Last summer it was at 6.0. They said a point a year is ok. I'm thinking a point a year leads me to 6.5 and diabetic by the time I'm 45 and that is NOT ok with me.

We're measured up and know where we stand. We are making small changes that we can live with and maintain. We may be rumblin', bumblin' and stumblin', but we're going to make real change.

Here we go again...

In the past week, I have been weighed twice. My doctor's scale read 300 while the health department read 311. I'm not sure whether to be annoyed at the difference or just horrified at such a nice, round number. On this note, among other reasons, Dan and I are refocusing on our personal well-being.

We signed up for the Underground Lab again for a full year, and we paid in advance. We now have each other to account to and the large sum of money we have spent to motivate us, as well as the trainers to kick our butts the concern and love of family to get us through the rough patches.

Tomorrow, we weight in. We'll learn weight, take measurements and get our body fat analyzed. It's not going to be a fun day because it's not going to be pretty, but we'll never know our own progress until we know exactly how bad we have it now. It's a lot like making your first budget and realizing you've got to make some serious changes to survive.

Wish us luck...

A New Beginning

TMI Warning!  This post contains highly personal details that may be disturbing to some.  I know I am not the only person feeling these things, so I will share anyway.  I will be as tasteful as possible and my intention is not to offend.  I will mark the offending passage so you can skip it if you like.  Thank you.

Exactly four weeks ago today, Dan and I completely changed our eating habits and began the Paleo lifestyle. Dan likes to research and so he dug up info on all kinds of diet changes and figured that this would be the best fit for our needs. It was easy to tweak so that we each could make adjustments for our individual health and the kids would not need completely separate meals.

I have to admit, after so many different diets and workout programs that were a bust, I did not exactly have my hopes up for great results. However, Dan's a great cook and started planning menus and helping more with the grocery shopping.  This made it a lot easier for me to stick with the program since all I had to do was eat.  :)  Then Dan suggested that he take over the vision card with our food assistance.

My first reaction was, "NO! I MUST MAINTAIN THE FACADE OF ULTIMATE CONTROL OF ALL THINGS!"

I didn't say this out loud, and once I mulled it over for a second or two, I realized that this was doable.  A week later, I couldn't thank him enough for lifting such a huge amount of stress off of me that I hadn't even realized I was carrying.

The first week was hard.  I was crashing bad from the lack of carbs and was crazy tired.  Add sugar withdrawals to that and you have one very grumpy Eeka.  I started working out of my funk about the time Dan hit his.  How bad were these crashes for us?  Let's just say that if we hit these lows at the same time and there was no reasonable thought between us, someone would have been sleeping in the car!  But, we've been through this type of thing before, so we knew it was temporary and we continued to work past it.

As we completed our second week, we were both finally back on an even keel and the worst of the physical cravings were over.  We have been eating so much better since we made this change, mainly because we are starting with whole foods and cooking at home.  We've spent far less eating out, even though our grocery bill has barely increased.  Week three, we realized that we are eating far less food at one time, Dan's love handles had flattened out and his tummy had shrunk.  POOP ALERT:  The only change I had noticed in  myself was that my poop was solid and floaty instead of mushy and sinking as I was used to. I was feeling better by eating better foods, but I was still breaking out the magnifying glass to try to find any sign of outward change.

***TMI***TMI***TMI***
On the fourth Monday of our new life, my period started.  As I put in my tampon, I realized that it was easier to place because there was no longer an extra layer of fat guarding the gates.  I have also developed heat rashes from time to time in the area where the lower tummy, a.k.a. front butt, overhangs my upper thighs.  I realized that the size of the heat rash danger zone seemed to have decreased.
***SAFE***SAFE***SAFE***

Now, these changes were not apparent to anyone but me, so I was very afraid that I had made them up in an unconscious effort to create hope.  I spent the week teetering between putting my faith in a false hope or giving up before I got too committed.  On Friday, I went to the doc for labs and had myself weighed.  When we started, I was 283 pounds.  On Friday, I weighed 269 pounds.

I could not believe I actually lost 14 pounds in less than four weeks, just by changing my diet!  I wasn't as strict with my food choices as Dan was and I hadn't put any effort into working out at all.  When Dan and I decided to have a little one-on-one celebration, we discovered that without as much extra fat in the way, we fit better. :)

Today, we have completed four weeks.  Tuesday, Dan will be weighed and have labs drawn and a blood pressure check.

Payton's going to help us get before pics, even though it's not totally before.  By the end of the week, we'll know if our body chemistry is doing as well as our weight loss or if we need to tweak our foods a bit more.

It's amazing to have hope of real change in our future!

The other parent phone call

I have issues.  If you have read this blog before, or know me in person, you already realize this.  So let's move on to the issue of the day.

Melissa called this evening.  Melissa is Dan's ex-wife and the mother of our daughter, Ash.  I never got around to turning my ringer on today, I guess, because I didn't hear the call come in.  She never calls.  Like, once a year?  Maybe?  There are definitely issues in communication, among other things.  Dan doesn't want to talk to her, so she and I usually do the talking and play nice for Ash's benefit.

Anyway, her message was the sixteenth message in my voice mail.  Ugh!  So, I deleted a handful of messages, hung up and called back.  (This was so I could see how much progress I had made before I call back in to my voice mail. . .  I know, issues.)  Message sixteen was short and to the point.  Melissa wants Dan to call her back so they can talk one on one.

What does this mean?  What's going on?  Did I do something to make her mad again?  Is she upset because I asked Ash when she's going to come see us next?  Is she going to try to keep Ash away from us MORE?  Do we need to call a lawyer?

I am good at a few things and I am QUEEN of the worst case scenario game.  I have no idea what's really going on, but I can't even think of a reason that might not be bad.  I know I cannot be the only person who does this.  It sucks.  I've had a really good day with the kids, done some productive things, got a nap, scheduled some appointments, ate a yummy steak salad for supper, hung with the kids and Willie.  Very good day.

My chest hurts now and I'm on the edge of tears.  This is just dumb!

I'm on happy pills and have been working really hard to not get caught up in following any slightly negative path to it's worst imaginable outcome.  I have made great strides is almost every area of my life.  Why can't I deal with this any better?  Even as I'm writing this, it is not helping me to cope like I thought it would.  I'm trying not to slide down the slippery slope into a full blown panic/crying attack.

What I do know is that this relationship has never been easy and it probably never will be.  I also know that our relationship with Ash has been suffering and I don't know what we can do.  I know that we've seen her four times in the past year and this is the third summer she's not staying with us, as outlined in the parenting agreement.  I'm not even sure what can make this situation worse and I keep reminding myself that I don't even KNOW that this is a bad thing.  Melissa didn't sound mad when she called, but she NEVER calls to talk to Dan, specifically.

I have been praying about this situation for months.  I have a great new friend who understands, offered to car pool to western Kansas if we can coordinate visits and gave me the info for a lawyer who I can talk to for cheap.  These things should all make me feel more secure than I have in the past, but my neurosis is winning. . . .

I hoped to come to some calming, rational conclusion.  Something that would logically show me that I can relax at least long enough to let Dan talk to Melissa before I worry.  Something I could share to encourage other folks who know, all too well, exactly how this feels.

I will now begin with my distraction therapy (tv, games, cheesy romance novel) in order to avoid following this line of reasoning to the point that I convince myself that we'll never see Ash again.

I know the problem here is with me, not Melissa.  I know that we'll find out whatever is going on and deal with it and get through it.  I know that I love Ash to infinity and beyond.

My encouragement for the day--You are not alone.  I'm here.  I understand.

That fine line. . .

It's almost eleven, I have to be up at five thirty but I'm just not able to sleep.  I figured I better work some things out by writing or I'll never get to sleep.

The last time we saw Ash was in January, when we celebrated Christmas at Mom and Dad's house in Quinter.  When I checked with her about coming for spring break, she said she didn't want to come because she was mad at Dan.  She said she was upset that he never answers her facebook messages or texts and he doesn't call her.  She was also upset that he has so many pictures of Livi on his facebook and almost none of her.

Part of the confusion comes from the android tablet Dan has that shows he's always logged into facebook if he has wifi even though he is rarely actually uses it.  We let his phone shut down as we weren't really using it and it seemed like a waste of money, so texting is pretty much out.  Anybody who hangs with Livi much takes her pic and tags us, so they show up on our page, but we don't have a working camera and we've only seen Ash twice in the past year, so it's hard to compete in that department either.

Basically, the way I see it, Dan and Ash just need to be together in one place so they can talk in person and work things out.  I'm not sure how this will happen if she doesn't want to come her and they don't talk on the phone.  When she wouldn't see us over spring break, she wouldn't message Payton or I either.  Then about a month later, she texts to see if we are coming to her eighth grade graduation.

Dan and Payton neither really get the idea of a graduation for eighth grade, but I've tried to explain that it's a pretty big deal in some places.

Dan and I got the time off work and Payton will have to miss a band concert, but he's ok with that.  Missing the band concert is actually the only reason Payton wants to go.

Payton is so hurt that Ash wouldn't see us or talk to us that he doesn't understand why we should go see her now.  Why would she even invite us if she didn't want to see us?  I tried to explain to him that if we don't take this chance to see her, we could lose her.  For good.  He tells me that we already have.

I pray that he's wrong.  I see how hurt he is and I want to fix it but I can't.  I don't know how Ash is feeling because I haven't really had a chance to talk to her, but I imagine she's feeling as hurt as Payton is.  It seems like a whole lot of hurt has come from some kind of misunderstanding that we can't seem to get past.

We're going to Hill City for the graduation.  We can't afford not to.  I just hope we can all get past the hurts and celebrate Ashlynn's day.  Then, I hope we can sit down and work some things out.  I know how much we all love each other, but nobody seems to feel that right now.

Dear God,

Please help us all to let our defenses down enough to love each other.  Let us look to help the person who we have hurt, rather than defend our shortcomings.  Let that love that has always kept us tight bring us back together.

Love, Eeka

Through the eyes of a child. . .

Olivia and I have some interesting conversations, and yesterday was no exception.  Sometimes her perspective is so clear and mature that I'm completely amazed.  I shouldn't keep being surprised by this, yet somehow, I am.

Olivia wanted to know why girls don't have penises like boys.  I told her that if we had penises we wouldn't be able to have babies, so she asked what we have that boys don't.  I told her we have a vagina.  I was beginning to get a little nervous about how far this conversation was going to go.

Then, thankfully, she started asking if the vagina was in her tummy.  We talked about the uterus that holds the baby and the ovaries that hold the eggs that might get to be babies.  She decided that babies don't get to be born until it's their birthday so that's why not all eggs are babies.  I let her stick with that for now.

She was worried that if she has a baby, she might have twins who have their ears stuck together.  I know that they talked about conjoined twins in school a while back, so I wasn't completely surprised at her train of thought.  She wanted to know how twins were made.  We were talking about when you have two or three eggs which makes two or three babies and they all are in their own water balloon.  I explained that they can't get stuck together if they each have their own balloon.  She wasn't sure if she should believe that you could really have three babies.  I told her that I had three babies with three water balloons a long time ago.

Olivia wanted to know who they were.  When I said that they died in my uterus and they didn't get a birthday, he asked if they were boys or girls.  They were only 9 weeks, so we didn't even find that out.

"What are their names?"

We never named them.  We never had a chance.

"Oh.  Well, let's name them now.  We'll call the boy Junior.  The girls will be Buttercup and Kaylea."

I smiled at the this.  I looked at her and saw how beautiful she is and felt how sweet it was of her to name kids she never knew.

She looked at me and gently took my hand in hers.  She rubbed the back of my hand with her other hand and said, "I'm sorry your babies died, Mommy."

It took some extra blinking to keep the pipes from leaking.  I gave her a big hug and asked if she wanted to know any more about twins and triplets.

She counted up and said that I would have had six kids: Junior, Buttercup, Kaylea, Ashlynn, Payton and Olivia.  I reminded her that I didn't get to carry Ashlynn in my tummy, even though I love her bunches.  I told her that I did have one other baby who didn't get a birthday so I could have had six kids, though.

"Well, since we already have more girls than boys," she mused, "We'll name this one Miles.  Like Max and Miles at church.  That's a good name."

We got sidetracked after that as Dan and Payton were ready for us to start our running around for the morning and I shrugged it aside.  When my sister miscarried a couple years ago, I relived all of this and dealt with it.  I was good.

We swung by McDonald's to get some breakfast for Payton before his choir rehearsal.  We waited 20 minutes after paying and getting our drinks and never got our food.  We had to get Payton to school or he would be late.

"I'm going to come back and yell at them later," I said as I drove away.  Tears started coming. "Dan, I'm going to need your help with that."

"OK," he replied automatically.  When he looked up and saw me crying, he was confused.

"I'm not crying about McDonald's."

"I know," he said, "You are feeling bad because Payton doesn't get any breakfast."

"No.  Livi named my babies."

We dropped Payton off at school and Dan and I talked a lot.  I couldn't understand why I was having such a  hard time with this.  Dan reminded me of the scene in the Disney "Tarzan" where they say you can't name the human or you'll get attached to it.

That didn't make any sense to me.  I've already been through this.  I've already dealt with this.  I'm done with it.  I have given birth to two beautiful kids and been blessed to help in raising three others.  This seemed bizarre.

Dan looked at me, held my hand and said, "It is never going to go away."

For a guy who wasn't with me through either miscarriage, he sure seems to understand a lot about what I have been through and am continuing to go through.  I don't know what I did to deserve the blessings of a husband who will support me through not only what we've been through together, but things he's never experienced.  I never did anything to deserve a six year old who understands and comforts me more than so many adults know how to do.

I don't know if this will ever be easier when life brings these memories back to me, but I know I can get through them with astounding support.

I know that I will never forget Miles or Junior or Buttercup or Kaylea.

Big Yellow Blankie

Anxiety sucks.  It's frustrating and annoying and it doesn't make any sense.  You know that, you understand that, but there it is.

This weekend, I drove a high school volleyball team to a tourney.  I was at the bus lot 45 minutes before my pick up time to pre-trip the bus and headed out.  Everyone was on the bus pretty quickly and we left the school right on time.  In a car, the trip takes about three quarters of an hour, but on a school bus rocked out with a 58mph governor, we needed that extra quarter.  After dropping the team off at the gym doors and giving the coach my cell number, I headed out to the edge of the parking lot.

Now, when I picked up my trip sheet from our trip coordinator the day before, I had asked if I was supposed to drop them off and then be back to pick them up.  She said that I needed to stay for the day.  I wanted to ask if it was ok to leave for a little bit to get something for lunch and then come back, but questions scare me.  I could have called her and asked for clarification one I parked the bus.  That would have made sense.  I just can't seem to ask questions if there is any other option.  I had already used up my stores of bravado by asking about leaving in the first place.  Going for a follow up was just too  much.  I didn't want to look incompetent.  I didn't want to seem like a bother.  I didn't want to pester her.  It was her day off.  I could give you a dozen more reasons but the truth remains the same.  I was scared.

There is no logical reason for this fear.  I know that, but it's still there.  Our trip coordinator is a super nice lady.  I had to call her early in the morning on my last trip to ask a question and she was as cheerful as ever and even thanked me for checking in.  There was absolutely no reason to be afraid.

Regardless, I sat on the bus all morning.  I read most of the book I brought and I ate my snack.  I wore a red shirt, to show support for the team I drove for, and I thought I might go in and watch some of the matches.  I thought maybe I could grab lunch at the concession stand.  I was hungry, bored and I really needed to pee, but I kept on reading just to stay on the bus.  I had been sitting on the parked bus since eight.  It was after one.  I had quit drinking my water because I already had to pee and was hoping that the urge would pass.  I thought maybe I'd wait until I got home, around five or six.

At this point, I was forced to admit to myself that I was afraid to get off the bus.  I pride myself on being a good driver and I'm in charge on the bus.  I know how things are supposed to work.  I am in my comfort zone.  I was hiding out in a gigantic, square, yellow, security blanket.  Damn.  :(

You would think that coming to this realization would have motivated me.  Instead, it made me feel crappy and jump started the inertia. . .  you know, an object on the bus tends to stay on the bus?

Thank God for my Dan.  Dan was at McDonald's playplace with Livi.  They were eating lunch and then he was going to read for an hour or so and give her a chance to play.  He called to see how my trip was going and I shared with him my epiphany of cowardice.  Dan reminded me of how Ash and Payton used to be afraid to talk to people.  They would do anything together, but alone, neither of them would go up to the counter at McD's to order an ice cream or trade in their happy meal toy.  We had to put them in situations where there was a greater incentive to talk to someone than to stay where they were.  He told me that we, as a couple, are kind of out of the habit of talking to other people and we just have to learn again, like we taught the kids.  I love how he joined me in my dysfunction so I didn't feel like such a weenie.  My logical brain was convinced.  I still wasn't sure it was enough to get me past my fear though, until Dan made me more uncomfortable staying on the bus than going inside.

He told me that if I didn't at least go in and use the restroom, I was going to be distracted while I was driving.  He told me to go pee, grab some lunch and when I was back on the bus, I could call him if I wanted to.  There are lots of reasons why I am blessed to have my Dan, and this was just one of those things . . .  He understood me and my hangups well enough to help me in a practical way.

I got off the phone.  I grabbed my cash, my phone and my bus key and headed inside.  After I used the restroom and grabbed a couple hot dogs and a soda, I headed back out to the bus.  I was halfway back, carrying my food, before I realized that I was half a step away from running and practically hyperventilating.  I really needed to get back to my big, yellow blankie.  I forced myself to slow down and breath a tad bit slower and deeper.  I congratulated myself on facing my fears.  I had talked to the folks at the concession stand and had a pleasant conversation about how the tourney was going.  Next thing I knew, I was back on the bus, getting comfy so I could read some more and eat my lunch.

A big problem with anxiety is that it makes normal things seem way harder than normal.  A really big problem with anxiety is that it's often best friends with depression.  If you've ever had a chat with depression, you'll find that not only is he a bully, but he really enjoys a good game of King of the Hill.  My teeny-weenie sense of accomplishment over going into a big, scary high school was just too much for him.  There I was, standing on the molehill of pride when SLAM!! Depression knocked me right back down.

Seriously?  Getting excited that you used the restroom and bought a hot dog?  It's not like you overcame a REAL fear.  What were you thinking?  Loser!  Get excited when you actually do something productive.  Besides, if you weren't so screwed up, this would be a non-issue.  You wouldn't even have gone if Dan hadn't held your mental little hand.

Not only did depression knock me back down my molehill to level ground, he also stomped me down in the mud on the other side so I was not even back to where I started when I was first stuck on the bus.  It's so easy to look back at this and see how silly it was, but it is so scary and sad when you're stuck in the middle of it.  My friend, Jenn, said to me, "Oh, no! You slimed yourself."  I'd never thought of it that way, but it fits.

The fear of anxiety is a real fear.  It may have started in your imagination or your chemical imbalance, but it doesn't matter how it got there once it crashed the party.  Every little baby step to overcome that fear is a victory.  It is worthy of your delight.  It is one more reason for you to love yourself.

Help?

I don't like to ask for help.  I can't honestly think of anyone I know who does.  And, I wonder, is this ingrained in us as the messed up humans that we are?  Or do we teach it to our kids WAY too early?

Payton is thirteen.  He will struggle and fuss with a problem until he's ready to scream and almost in tears.  Then he'll slam things around and stomp and cuss until he gets into trouble for his behavior.  This reaction to frustration may very well have been learned . . . but we'll blame his dads for that.  ;)  Now, when I tell him to chill out and ask for help if he needs it, he refuses every time.  But, finally, either when his brain is about to go super-nova or he's ready to curl up into a little ball and cry, he'll accept the help I've been trying to give him all along.

I don't get it.  It makes no sense to me at all.  It is completely illogical to turn away from the help that you know you need until you have jacked up your project almost past the point of redemption.  Then we have to backtrack to repair the damage done before we can even move forward and finish the work.  It's a lot more frustrating, it's harder work and it takes a lot longer

Once we are done, I'll say something wise and mom-ish, like, "Wouldn't it have been easier to just ask for help in the first place?"  Usually he'll give me a sheepish grin and admit that, of course, mom was right.  Sometimes he'll give me that ornery grin and say, "Nope.  That would never have worked."

We have this conversation, not to reveal the great wisdom that is Mom, but in the hopes of teaching him a lesson that could make so many things in life easier for him.  I know this.  I'm a pretty smart momma, most days.  So, when will I learn what I am trying to teach my son?

It's easy to see that we don't know all there is to know  We know an athlete needs a coach.  We also know the rules of basketball are far less complicated to figure out than the rules of life.  Doesn't it logically follow that we will need other coaches?  Of course!  We get a doctor to help us stay healthy and teachers to expand our minds.  We find a mechanic to fix our car.  So why are there so many other areas of our lives in which we refuse, not just to ask for help, but to accept help that is freely offered?

For me, at least, there seem to be three big deterrents to asking for or accepting help.

1.  I am ashamed.
2.  I am afraid.

Not only do I have high expectations for myself, which I continually fail to live up to, you have high expectations for me, too -- or at least I think you do.

Our apartment is a perfect example.  We live in a small, two bedroom apartment.  I always say we live in the ghetto, although Lawrence doesn't really have a ghetto.  It's just a part of town with cheap rent and a high rate of domestic disturbance.  When we first moved here, my therapist asked me if I felt safe living here.  I HAD, right up until she asked me that question.  Anyway, as we have both a boy and a couple of girls, Payton has one room and the girls have the other room.  Dan and I have our bed in the living room. I am a little embarrassed about our living situation, but the real reason I am ashamed and afraid is because, as the Fly Lady says, we are living with CHAOS.  Can't Have Anyone Over Syndrome.  Most of my friends have never been inside our apartment and the ones who have been were only there because I couldn't think of a polite way to keep them out.

Our place is a mess.  It's an obstacle course to walk through and it is, most likely, a fire hazard.  It is depressing in its disarray.  We can't put everything in its place because there are just not enough places for all of the things.  On a good day, I can do a sink or two of dishes and pick up some trash.  On a bad day, it makes me cry and leaves me feeling so overwhelmed that I curl up in bed, read, play games or do anything else to avoid seeing the mess.  I know that cleaning and organizing will make me feel better, but I just can't make myself face it. This makes me feel guilty for being such a failure to my family.  My kids don't have a problem with this mess and that bothers me, too.  These are all the things that I feel are written on the walls for you to read when you come visit, so I won't invite you over --EVER.

I will never invite you over because you will see what I see.  You will know I am not living up to the standards that I should.  You will know that I am fat and lazy and a terrible mother.  I can barely stand to see that when I look at myself in the mirror.  I could never cope with your judgement and condemnation on top of my own.

Now, I would like to remind you that I DO know this is my perception and not reality.  So far, no one who has come to our place has rolled their eyes, run screaming or refused to speak to me again.  Knowing that these fears are unrealistic does not lessen them.

3.  The final reason that I do not ask for help is that I do not want to be a burden.  Taking the apartment as our example again, it is not an easy fix.  If I asked you to help me clean and organize today, it wouldn't be done and I would still need help tomorrow.  And the next day.  And the next . . . At what point do you turn to me and say, "Clean up your own damn mess!?"  How do I know when I'm about to ask for too much BEFORE I have already asked too much.

Besides that, who doesn't already have their own messes and struggles to deal with?  You work your butt off to keep your house neat and organized, why would you want to help me deal with mine?

If I have this much trouble sharing my messy apartment with friends who I trust, is it really any wonder I struggle on so many other fronts?   But really, where is that balance?  How can I ask for help on these messes of life without feeling like I'm trying to pass off my burdens onto others?  I know there are people who want to help me, but I would never want to make them feel as if I am taking advantage of them.  With this thought in mind, I tend to err on the side of caution and just not ask at all.  Besides, what if I ask for help now, but tomorrow I need help even more?  Then I don't want to ask for MORE help, so I save up my asking until there is no other option.  Does this make any sense, probably not.  Have I clarified anything for myself or anyone else, I doubt it.  Do I feel better for having verbalized this, sorta?  Yeah, I do.  Good enough.  :)

Open and Honest?

Be open, don't hide your mess.

Make sure that every interaction is a positive experience for others

If I share my hardships, do I sound like a whiner or a downer?

How can I share without dragging others into my sadness?


I've been struggling with a lot of junk lately.  No more junk than anyone else, really.  I think we all have our own load of junk.  For me, it's major depression combined with a financial drought.  Our rent is behind, our car barely has brakes, it's the monthly juggle to keep all the utilities and the phones from being disconnected.  We get a little in food stamps, but I just got a job and it might be just enough that we won't be eligible for food stamps anymore.  We can't afford to put gas in the car and buy bus passes, but the buses don't run late enough to cover all the running we need to do.  It's just a cycle of craziness that's very tiring with no end in sight and homelessness is looming over our shoulders.

It also seems that no matter what we do to try to resolve things, it's not helping.  We try to set up a budget, but we suck at it.  Every month seems to bring up new surprises.  Dan started school to try to help us in the long run and I got a job to help cover the extra cost of that.  Now, if we lose our food stamps we'll be back where we were to start with, if not further behind.  And somehow, we are not able to pay all of the bills and the rent anymore and everything we are paying towards rent is actually late fees now and an eviction notice can't be too much further down the line.

I"m working really hard to not get sucked down into my depression, which is harder when circumstances are scarier, but even so, some days I do all right.  Other days, I just can't seem to do it.  So when someone asks me, "how are you?" I am getting stuck on the answer.

Obviously, there are plenty of folks who ask me that question and are looking for the, "I'm fine. How are you?" response.  I can do that.  But what about those friends who are asking because they honestly want to know?  How do I answer without being a weight that works to drag them down into the depression right along with me?  How do you contribute to your friends lives in a positive way when you can't get past the fear that tomorrow you'll get that eviction notice?  Or next month you won't be able to feed your kids?  Or that the brakes won't hold and we'll get into an accident and someone will be hurt?

I've been running this argument round and round in my poor, tired brain for a few weeks now.  I'd love to give it up, but it's just stuck there.  So when I went to church this morning, I was still stuck.  Sure, there are some of the "I'm fine," folks here, who don't know me well enough to want to know my gory details and I don't know them well enough to feel safe opening up like that.  Then one of my friends asked how I was and I said I was doing ok.  That didn't really feel right, because it was a lie.  I wasn't even doing ok at that very moment in time because everything was still swirling around on the inside.  Still not knowing what else to say, I let it stand.  But the next time someone asked, I just rolled my eyes and said "eh."  He knew exactly what I meant by that.  His life has been a little "eh" lately, too.  We didn't get too far into the details for practicality's sake, but it was better.  By the time the third person looked at me and said, "How are you doing?" I looked at her and told her the truth.  I said things were rough.  Not necessarily rougher than for anyone else, but not exactly looking good either.  We just talked about our frustrations with each other a bit.  The first friend, who I ok'd, called me on my untrue statement from earlier.  She pointed out that I hadn't shared that with her and that I should have called her when I was having a rough time.  She didn't guilt me, just made sure I have her number so I can call her next time.

Well, I finally have my answer.  It's not that all of my troubles go away when I shared them, and I didn't dump them on unsuspecting victims.  It didn't drag any of my friends down that I shared with them, it bugged them more when I didn't share.  I wasn't asking for pity and I didn't cry to make people feel sorry for me.  I can't say there wasn't a tear or two, there's not much I can about that.  But I feel a whole lot lighter this afternoon than I have felt in weeks.

I know that this is not a quick fix.  When things are rough, I'm still going to want to hide.  I don't want to be depressing to those I care about and if I feel like the story never changes, I worry that others will feel the same way.  I don't know why I instinctively want to run from the very people I should be running to, but I'm pretty sure I'm not alone in that either.  At least knowing that my friends want the honest truth, no matter how ugly it gets, makes it easier to deal with things and easier to share them.  I wonder how long it will take for this kind of honesty to become a habit?

Full Circle

Last December, we couldn't pay the rent.  We tried to keep up with everything else, like utilities and the car payment.  My depression was sucking me down into a hole and I went into denial.  We still spent around twenty bucks to put some silly fun stuff in the kids stockings for Christmas and I tried to pretend that we weren't going to be homeless.  We got an eviction notice in January and were living in a cheap hotel by February.

This year, we haven't paid the rent.  We haven't spent a dime on Christmas for each other or the kids.  There are a few gifts coming from other people, so there will be a little something under the tree, but we can't even do stocking stuffers.  We don't have a car payment, but we can't afford gas.  Dan was accepted into a culinary program, which has him SO excited that it's adorable, but we don't have the hundred bucks enrollment fee or the $170 payment that will be due on the first.  Even if we don't pay the phone bill and lose our phones next week, we still can't pay rent and have the gas money to go get Ash for Christmas.  We are waiting to see if we are eligible for food stamps again and I can't donate plasma again until January.  Christmas in Quinter is January 12 and Dan has to be in court to find out how much child support they are going to garnish on the 20th.  I'm trying not to get dragged down too far by this.  We have been tithing and I am praying A LOT.

The only real difference between this year and last year is that I'm trying NOT to ignore this all and I'm hoping God is listening.  Last year, I figured He didn't care.  This year, I am hoping that He is going to fix something.  I understand that He CAN fix this, I just also know that sometimes He doesn't.  I know that God will give us what we need, however, I'm afraid of the difference of opinion between what I think I need and what He thinks we need.

I can't deal with the idea of having to tell Payton that we can't see Ash for Christmas.  Or having to call Momma and Daddy and say we won't be seeing them in January.  I can't stand the thought of seeing Dan crushed if we can't get him to school now that he's finally got hope again.  I'm not getting excited about Christmas dinner, I'm just glad Dan will get to eat at work and I'm hoping Livi and I can scrounge something up.  I don't know if I can make it through this again.

December is the most terrible, awful, no-good, very bad Monday ever, all stretched out to cover a whole month.  Every year.  Everyone says that what doesn't kill us makes us stronger.  I don't feel any stronger.  I feel like I'm going to shatter into a bazillion teeny-tiny little pieces.  How can I tell my kids that God is going to take care of them when I can't even figure out how this faith thing works?  I ask God to take care of our family, I give to my church, I tell God, "You have got to cover this, because I don't know how."  I don't know how to trust Him to take care of it.  I don't know how to not beat myself up for not having a job.  We agreed I would stay home with Livi, but this is not working and I can't fix it.  I can't even get a job because of my last two jobs ending in a questionable manner.  I forgot our SRS appointment when the car broke down and we still don't have food stamps again.

In a way, it's way scarier to have hope than to give up.  Last year, I knew we were gonna be homeless because I couldn't see any other scenario.  This year, I hope that there is another plan that I just don't see.  But what if there isn't?  What if it's in God's plan for me to be just a little more humble?  A lot of people say things about how much richer we are than other countries.  I know that's supposed to make me feel more grateful for what I have.  I am so glad I have Dan and Payton and Livi and that we are all healthy.  I truly am.  But hearing of how much better this is than in some other places doesn't make me feel guilty for living in the lap of luxury.  It makes me feel guilty that I don't feel as bad as I think I should for those poor people living in other places.  Sometimes, I am not as nice a person as I want to think that I am.

Somebody bought me a pair of boots last week.  They were cute and warm and didn't fit so I had to trade them in for guy boots that will keep my toes warm.  It's awesome to have warm shoes again and it touched my heart when a group of folks at my church donated warm socks to the homeless shelter this year.  Today, a friend of mine gave the socks she was wearing to someone with cold, wet feet.  I love being around people with such a love that strives to understands the needs of others at a real level.  It helps me a little to know that there are loving people out there who are doing all they can for others.  It's amazing to know them.  I wish I could get my Christmas spirit revved up to do the same.  It's hard to look to how you can help someone else when you can't even help your own kids.

Lord, help us.  We need it.  Please get this.  Please fix this in such a way as to carry us into a better place.  Please don't let us go through this again.  I know Livi wants to live in a motel again, but I really really don't.  I'm doing the best I can, but you know that's not very good.  I'm not good at faith.  I am trying.  I've made it to hope.  That's a big step for me.  I'm sorry I don't trust you yet.  Maybe next year?   Amen.

Pre-holiday depression

Life has been a little rough for us in the last year or so.  In a lot of ways, things are harder than they have ever been.  We are currently living in a two bedroom apartment where the kids each have a room and Dan and I sleep on a bed in the living room.  We live in the cheapest available apartments in town and we still had to get my ex-husband to co-sign so we could live here.  We don't have a car, but we still owe money for the one that doesn't run.  Our loaner car takes ten bucks every day or two in gas to get around town.  Dan and I each own one pair of jeans, but Dan can't find his.

In other ways, things are a ton better than this time last year.  We are paying the bills.  There is almost nothing left over, but we are not in danger of eviction.  We are juggling disconnect notices, but so far we are keeping up.  We live in a town with a bus system that takes us almost everywhere we need to go and we do have a loaner car.  We may have to push the utilities envelope a little further, but we will probably be able to see my family for Thanksgiving.

I have my good days and my bad days when it comes to depression, but I have learned of a local place where I might be able to get free therapy.  Beyond that, in the past year, I have been to that point where I fully and truly believed that my family would be better off without me.  I still struggle, but I know that I am valued and I am loved and I am not alone.  I know that things will be hard, but I have a husband who supports me, beautiful kids who love me, a church family like I had never imagined before, an extended family that are tight even over distance and friends who are there for me.

So why is the whole season of watching the homes around us light up so damn hard?  I just realized that our tree and all of our decorations were in the storage shed that we couldn't keep paying for.  They were all lost.  We picked out new ornaments for each member of the family every year.  Sometimes they were fifteen dollar Hallmark ornaments, and sometimes they were from the dollar store.  One year we bought cardboard stars and painted them ourselves.  Payton's very first ornament was there.  It was a brass teddy bear that Aaron and I picked out together and we had his name and birth date engraved in it.  His second ornament was a little cross-stitched thing that I made for him when he was two.  It was just Payton and I and money was tight but I bought a little kit thing so he could still have an ornament.  There was this book about the nativity story.  There were six pages and each page had a cardboard ornament that we could hang up after we read the story.  Ash had a Barbie ballerina, probably from the nutcracker and an angel that she had her Grandma Barbie buy for her birthday from Everything But Ice, which is gone now.

All of these ornaments had great memories attached.  But they are just things.  I still have my kids.  We can make more memories.  What is the issue?  This is not really what Christmas is all about.  What is my problem?

I try to be positive in my social networking, but I posted my conundrum on facebook:

Trying to decide if I'm more frustrated to realize we no longer have Christmas decorations, or that there is no place to put a tree if we had one. *sigh*


I got some cheap and creative ideas to decorate along with an offer for a tree.  One person added, "Enjoy your family."  That's when it hit me.  I don't even know if I can do that.

Right now, we are signed up to be adopted for Christmas gifts so maybe we can all get some new warm clothes.  I saw the cutest Mickey Mouse stocking hat thing at Walgreen's with two pom poms on top to be Mickey's ears.  It was only eight bucks, but we still can't buy it for Livi.  Christmas dinner will be whatever I can get close to free with my coupons.  Free hot dogs at the gas station around the corner today were a lifesaver.  I really thought this was the cause of my melancholy until I read that one comment that was tagged onto the end, almost as an after thought.  "Enjoy your family."

I have had the privilege to help raise five children through various parts of their lives.  Payton's been mine for almost 13 years now, close to 14 years if you count gestation.  Livi's been mine for almost five years.  I helped raise Ash from the time she was three until she was nine, and then we still had every other weekend and over the summers.  We aren't going to get to take her to Oklahoma with us, and we may not be able to go get her for Thanksgiving weekend if we got to Oklahoma.  We may not see her again before the end of the year.  Saanna lived with us for three and a half years.  She picked out an "our first year" ornament the first year she was with us.  :)  As long as we get to Oklahoma, we should see her for Thanksgiving.  Ash's half brother, Avian, lived with us for a year and a half.  I don't even see him once a year for long enough to say hello.  We had the Hallmark ornament of Harry Potter with the invisibility cloak that Avian picked out in storage.  We also had this little gingerbread man that Avian had decorated that year we went to Dan's Grandma's for Christmas.  It has a space cut out and we had Avian's picture in it.  He was eight.  That was the year he called 911 from the Holiday Inn.  lol

Enjoy the family.  Once you take part in raising a child, they are yours.  I know that Nana never thought of me as a mom and I doubt that Avian really thinks of me at all anymore.  But in my heart, I have helped raise five kids and they are all mine.  Sure, I share them with other people, but they are still my kids.  There are four babies, who may have names in heaven, that I never got to know.  Of the nine kids in my life, I know I will see Livi and Payton.  I may see Nana and Ash, or I may not see either of them.  I won't even have a glimpse of Avian, most likely.

I tell the kids all the time, you can't be sad that you miss people.  You have to be glad for the people who are with you or you'll always be sad for someone who is not there.  I love Dan, Livi and Payton to infinity and beyond.  I am immeasurably grateful that I have them every day.  I am so scared that we are going to lose Ashlynn as completely as I have lost Avian.  The pain of losing Avian has just crashed down on me again this year.  I didn't even realize the hurt was still there.  I thought I was past it.  I thought I had dealt with the miscarriages.  I thought that since Nana has grown up and is a mama and that we talk, the pain of her abrupt leave from our home was healed.  It's all still there.

Ouch. . .

I don't know if this will help me get back on track to realize where all this hurt is coming from.  I hope so.  I know that I'm working hard to not take for granted those people that I do have around me because you never know what is going to happen next.  I'm hoping that focusing on those I have with me will help to ease the loss of those who aren't.  God, please help me with that.  I'm going to need it.  Amen.