Normal? What is NORMAL?!

nor·mal /ˈnɔrməl/
–adjective
1.
conforming to the standard or the common type; usual; not abnormal; regular; natural.
2.
serving to establish a standard.

That word definitely does not describe my life. In fact, I am willing to bet if you look up its antonym, “abnormal”, you would find my picture next to the definition.

The last time I can remember my life feeling somewhat “normal” was about six or seven months ago. At that time, hubs still had the 8-9 hour a day job. I was working my 2.5 days a week, had 2.5 days a week off. I had my desk at work that I had sat at for a good 6-7 years. Life was comfortable. It’s amazing to me how quickly things can change and when they do change how much you can long for what was once considered “hum-drum”.

The first of many, many changes that began the spiral into my abnormal life was when I switched my hours at work from 2.5 days a week to 5 half-days a week. Funny how I think back now at how dramatic a change that seemed to me. If only I knew then what I know now.
Hubs lost his job in April. Or was it March. I can’t even remember now.

We tried to live for awhile on my part-time salary and his unemployment checks but as time went on and the hunt for jobs was proving less than fruitful, the opportunity came along for me to take a full-time position in my office. It seemed at that time that there was no other choice. So I took the plunge and went full time after being priveledged enough to work part-time for almost 5 years. At first it didn’t bother me a whole lot. Hubs was still home in the mornings to be with the kids and my mom could still take them in the afternoon so that he could continue his job search. While life at that point had definitely changed significantly, I still wasn’t quite feeling the effects of having an “abnormal” life.

Then it happened. Like a bolt of lightning. All of a sudden, hubs was offered a job working for a road re-paving company. The company is based out of Kansas and they travel all over the mid-west doing road construction. The up-side? Potential to make very good money. The down-side? Hubs has to travel. A lot. Conveniently, the first job he had was located right in our town. The first two weeks of the job, he just had to drive down the road a couple of miles and he was there.

He was offered the job on a Thursday morning, and his first day was the following Monday. All of a sudden I was faced with the very daunting task of trying to get someone to watch my kids in the morning for the remainder of the summer. I won’t go into all of the details of that because I did so in the post right before this one. What I have found for now is OK, but like I said more expensive than I would prefer and further south than I wanted to have to take them. But you do what you have to do.

Hubs finished up his job here in town last week. The next assignment was to start this past weekend in a mountain ski resort town about 2.5 hours south west of where we live. He and his co-workers are each given a per-diem each week in addition to their salary for accomodations and food when they are away from their homes. Nice perk, however if you know anything about ski resort towns, the amount of per-diem they are given per week would cover maybe 1.5 nights in a hotel up there. Most of them camp out in RVs. Hubs doesn’t have an RV. We don’t even know where our tent is. Luckily, one of his nice co-workers offered to lend him his 8 man tent and an air mattress to stay in while they are working up there. Length of this job? Three to four weeks. Hubs is camping for a month in the mountains. I can’t deny that there is a little part of me that is very jealous about this. The plan is for him to come back home on Friday nights when he gets down working and go back on Sunday afternoons.

He was to leave this past Saturday for ski resort town. His truck was having some issues (again) so he went to go get a new battery for it that morning, which he thought was going to fix the problem. It didn’t. I ended up driving him up there on Saturday afternoon and coming back all on the same day. My poor Mom had to watch the kids that day because, I’m sorry, three kids in my tiny car for six hours?! Hardly. And FIL, of course, was busy.

So, he’s up there. FIL figured out what was wrong in the truck, fixed it for us, and my plan is to go up there Friday night, camp out with him that night and bring him back on Saturday to do laundry, sleep in a real bed, see his kids, then he’ll drive back in his truck (that will hopefully make it) on Sunday afternoon. While he’s gone, I’m basically a single mom. To my girls. Anakin? I don’t know where he is. He left Saturday afternoon with his mom for his regular visit and I haven’t seen him since. His mom moved. I don’t know where she lives; her cell phone isn’t connected anymore and I have no way of contacting her to find out what is going on with Anakin. My guess is, she thinks if Anakin’s dad is not around, then he doesn’t need to be staying with his step-mom. But it would sure be nice to know where he is. Common courtesy, you know. (A foreign concept to her).

Feisty is doing better. (For information on what’s been going on with Feisty, my mom has chronicled her week on her blog. I have had neither the time or energy to do so myself, so thanks to Mom for sending out the word about Feisty and thanks for all of the prayers that have gone out for her.) She seems to be her old “feisty” self again, however her ordeal is not over yet. Her doctor wants her to go to Children’s Hospital in Denver for two tests: a VCUG and a Renal Ultra Sound. This is to determine what could possibly be causing her UTIs and to rule out VESICOURETERAL REFLUX. I talked to the nurse that works with her doctor for quite awhile today and don’t feel quite as panicked as I did when I first heard the words “Children’s Hospital” and “tests”. I just want my baby to be better. They told me that if she has the slightest fever again to bring her in right away. I’ve obsessively been touching her head and face every 20 minutes all weekend. Last night I could have sworn she had one and was trying to picture myself dragging her, Care Bear and myself to the emergency room in the middle of the night since hubs is not around to help. What a nightmare that would be.

Continue to pray for Feisty. She’s not totally in the clear yet. I just have to say that am I ever glad I was a “miracle maker” that donated $15 every month for two years to our Children’s Hospital. Those children’s stories always break my heart and I always told myself that if I were one of those people that had to use Children’s hospital, I would hope someone would want to help me out. Who knew. Never, ever take your child’s health for granted. I never will again.
Normal. Definitely not my life. I do have to say that it is never boring. Sometimes I wish it were.
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High/wierd points of the week?

1. An old neighborhood “friend” of mine whom I haven’t seen in probably 20 years showed up at my mom’s door on Sunday afternoon while we were eating lunch. She was “in the neighborhood” and when my mom opened the door this girl (Amy) said, “You still live here!!” My mom didn’t recognize her. I immediately knew who it was. My friend/enemy of 6 years during elementary school days. I credit her for a large portion of my problems that eventually led me to Remuda Ranch. And I had just been thinking about her a few days before. I just chatted with her and heard a little bit about her life. I decided not to dredge up stuff from 20 years back….why make her feel like crap when she made the effort to come look me up after all that time?! I don’t think she has any clue what she did to me in those days. WIERD.

2. I just have two words: HARRY POTTER. Five days. Via Amazon. Can’t Wait. I’m softening up my Harry Potter chair as we speak. I hope the Blondies are around this weekend cuz I’ll need to be left alone, I say!

URGENT PRAYER REQUEST!!

I am briefly coming out of hiding to urge everyone who is a pray-er to pray for my dear blogging friend, Heather of "Especially Heather". You may know of Heather because of her daughter Emma-Grace. Now Heather has been diagnosed with a brain-tumor. How much more can one family endure?! Her friend, Laura, is doing regular updates on Heathers condition at Heather's blog. Please keep Heather and her family in your prayers as they deal with this latest crisis.

Sure puts a lot of things in perspective....

--------silence-------

My Bible Study group is currently watching a group of DVDs done by a man named Rob Bell and a company called NOOMA. Each DVD is short and concise and the only person who appears typically in each DVD is Rob Bell. While they are short, they are thought provoking and power-punching.

Todays DVD was about 10 minutes long and the topic was "silence". The majority of the ten minutes we sat staring at a TV that was silent and dark with an occasional phrase that would flash across the screen. Phrases such as:

*Do you own a cell phone?
*Does your cell phone have voice mail and email access?
*Do you own a TV?
*Do you own more than one TV?
*How often do you find solitary moments?
*Is there a connection between our noisy lives and the inability to hear God speaking to us?
*Looking at your life, is it a life that says that you want to be able to hear God speak to you?

There were many more, but that is just an example. The silence in the room we sat in watching this was deafening. Which is, I suppose what the point is.

Why are we, as a society, uncomfortable with silence? Because it requires us to think? Because we are so accustomed to business, chaos and noise that silence is unwelcome? Because we may actually hear God speaking to us in His still, quiet voice? All of the above?

When the TV was silent, the room dark and no other noise could be heard except the muffled noise of the kids downstairs in the nursery, it was rather un-settling.

Silence is difficult to achieve. But it is highly under-rated and sorely under-utilized. How easy is it to have moments of solitude without any noise with young children running around consistently asking for things, or just being children? When our cell-phones are on, our TVs are on, the radio is on, the traffic is roaring, the computer is on. Pretty much impossible.

My life has been difficult lately. I have been searching for ways to make it easier. To make things less complicated. Maybe the answer has been staring me in the face all along. Silence. To hear God's still voice. Without all the noise.

I turned off the radio in my car on my way to work today. Silence was still difficult to achieve. My thoughts still raced through my head. Like all things, I suppose, silence will take practice.

As I got close to my office, in my effort to achieve silence, I barely noticed a car in front of me coming to a screeching hault. As I braked hard to avoid rear ending it, my eyes fell to a bumper sticker stuck to the car. The message? Silence is Golden. Coincidence? You decide.

Be still and know I am God. Psalms 46:10

(**side note: Care Bear has a new post up today. She enjoyed reading all the nice comments she got on her first post. Thanks for saying hi to her.)

The One Where I Have to Adjust---Again

Not too long ago, my Mom approached me with the idea of switching our schedules around. For those of you who may not know, my mom watches my kids when I work, which is 2.5 days a week. She asked me if there was a chance we could switch to doing half days every day saying that she feels it would be easier on her to watch them 5 half days a week as opposed to 2 full days and a half day. Initially, I didn't think this was going to fly with my office; part time jobs are few and far between and we had just arranged schedules with a fairly new person in the office, which was the reason I was uprooted not too long ago.

Surprise, surprise, my boss said she thought we could make it work. The catch being: I'll probably have to switch desks--again. No biggie....I'm used to it by now.

By the time my Mom got the go ahead from her peeps, I had plenty of time to think about this change. It's going to be a big adjustment, and if it weren't for my mom's "mental health" (no, my kids aren't insane....they haven't turned her schizo....but they are a handful), I think I would be backing out of this deal. Here are the cons:

• I will no longer...never again (after Thursday)....get an entire day alone with my daughters.
• I will no longer get to take Care Bear to pre-school.
• I will have to drive to my office (15 miles away) every day.
• I will no longer have the afternoon to myself with Feisty while Care Bear and Anakin are at school.
• I will no longer get to lounge in my jammies and fluffy socks til mid-afternoon or whenever the urge hits me to practice some personal hygiene.
• I can no longer procrastinate on doing laundry or dishes until mid-afternoon or whenever the urge hits me to practice good housekeeping skills.

I love taking Care Bear to school. I love seeing her go in to her classroom with excitement and anticipation of what the day is going to hold for her. I love watching her turn her name over on the "Who's Here" board. I love her excited face and ginormous hug when I come to pick her up. I like seeing the other moms.

I love having the afternoon with Feisty. She thrives on alone time with mama. It's rare that it happens and she takes full advantage of it...or rather me....and Care Bear's toys.

I love just being there two days a week with them. I wish I could be a full time stay at home mom and this will make me feel more like a part time mom.

This is by no means an effort to make my mom feel bad for desiring to change the schedule and it is be no means a guilt trip. My mom watches them for me out of the goodness of her heart...for free...and for that I am indebted to her indefinitely. I understand her need for good mental health. I'm just processing my thoughts on the whole thing and trying to make peace with this newest of changes in my life before it occurs next Monday. So in light of that, here are the "pros" of the change:

• I will get some adult time and conversation every day.
• When Care Bear goes to Kindergarten next year (*sob* this will be the subject of a very sappy post in the near future) I will get to take her every morning which with the current schedule would not have been possible.
• I don't have to witness their teary faces and death grips on my neck and legs when I leave them at the crack of dawn anymore (on those two full days).
• I will no longer have to set my alarm for 6:00 a.m. (just cuz I don't set the electronic alarm, however doesn't mean that my human alarms won't awake me at that time.)
• I will get to see them some of the day every day.
• I will get to take them to story time at the library on Fridays, which my mom has always done and I have always wanted to do but couldn't because I work(ed) on Friday mornings.

So starting next Monday, I will be reporting to duty every day at 12:30 sharp. Or 12:32 or 12:35 in some anonymous desk that is yet to be determined.....and in the meantime, I will enjoy my one (1) remaining full day with them on Thursday. Feel sorry for me; feel happy for my mom.

The Final Chapter

If you missed the first four installments of this series and are interested in reading it, I have added them to my sidebar under the heading "My Story". Also, if you haven't already, please head over to my Mom's blog and read the story from a Mother's point of view.
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My stay in the "residential living" facility in Chandler, Arizona was not quite as a positive experience as my stay at the Ranch had been. It was a pilot program and I was among the first five residents. There were a lot of quirks to be worked out and those of us that were staying there fell victim to the quirks. Staff came and went; the therapy sessions were un-organized and not very helpful. The nutritionist left a lot to be desired. We basically kind of just lived there for three months co-existing and doing a whole lot of nothing. I got a job at the photo lab at Wal-Mart since one of the requirements was to either go to school or get a job. Since the program was only supposed to last three months, I didn't see any use in going to school.

I experienced a few difficulties at this facility and before the three months was up, I ended up going home. I hadn't relapsed; I wasn't back into my unhealthy eating habits, but it hadn't ended up being what I really needed. I could have gone home straight after the Ranch and been as in good of shape as I was when I went to Chandler. However, it did afford me a few more months of time before I had to truly get back into the "real world" and test my new found knowledge of myself and my illness. (I must qualify all of this by saying that I'm sure that with 11 years under it's belt that this Residential treatment facility is now flourishing and every bit as wonderful and helpful as the Ranch itself for assisting those just leaving the Ranch.)

By this point in time, I was a healthy 115 pounds. The plan was to head back home for a couple of weeks and then head back to Kansas to go to school again. It was only October by this time, so until the fall semester ended, I would stay with the woman who had given my mom the connection to Remuda Ranch; who I had worked with at the Orthopedic Surgeons Office. I went out there to live with them, rent free, and find a job until school started in the spring.

I got a pretty good job out there working as a customer service representative for a credit card company. I enjoyed the job and it was good to be back in Kansas where my friend and roomate lived. She was now married, and I had found three other girls to room with when school started again in the spring.

However, once again, things on the school front were not to work out for me. I went home that Christmas to be with my family and while I was on the plane on my way home, the woman I lived with called my mom and told her that I wouldn't be able to return and continue living with them. One of her reasons? I left dishes in the sink rather than washing them and putting them away. They were rather OCD. I was devastated and once again felt like a failure. It was only two weeks until the semester was to begin; yet they weren't willing to let me come back for two weeks so I could go to school. I ended up quitting my job and dropping out of school for that semester, once again. Looking back on it now, I'm sure I could have found someone to stay with for those two weeks. Or I could have remained at home for those two weeks and gone back when school started. But I had taken a giant step backwards in my confidence level and felt the need to be back at home; in my familiar surroundings. Having had that blow to my self-esteem and being away from home, I could have easily slipped back into my behaviors. So I came back home. Again. I have never again heard from or spoken to the woman that I lived with and worked with and was so good to me for so long.

I ended up going to the community college for the next couple of semesters and remained at home until January of the following year when I took a giant leap and moved into my own apartment with a roommate in the town north of my parents. I haven't lived at home since.

That was ten years ago. The same month I moved in with my new roommate, I got my job where I currently work. I have not once slipped back into my anorexic behavior. That is not to say that life has been all roses since that time. Hardly. I've had a lot of things I've dealt with since that time; but happily, none of them have caused me to go back. I've had boyfriends; I've had plenty of heart-break. I've had more than one (count them four) bad roommate situations, several more apartments; financial difficulty; a "sowing my wild oats" period of my life where I decided I was tired of being the "good girl" that never did anything wrong. But through it all, I can honestly say that I have never again looked at a fat gram; or a calorie; or counted how many servings of carbs or protein or "optional calories" I've eaten. I can't remember the last time I worked out. My favorite foods are nothing you would consider exactly "healthy". I eat fries; I eat pizza; I eat ice cream; I eat chips; I eat cookies. I eat all the things that I used to consider my "fear foods" without a moments thought. Something changed in my metabolism after I went through this because I still get an occasional glance or look or "concerned question" from people who wonder if I still have that "eating problem". And all I have to say to this is: "Hey. I eat...and I eat what I want. That's all I can do". So to those people who still think I have an eating problem I say, "Phooey on you. I know where I am. And I know I eat fine. You don't believe me? It's your problem". Nothing ticks me off more to this day when people comment about my weight. Leave me alone already!! I'm not what a doctor might consider my "ideal weight". Probably about ten pounds under. But I'm fine. It's been 11.5 years since I left the Ranch.

So, where am I now? I'm 32 years old. I have a husband of almost five years and three beautiful children who I am extremely blessed to have. Not all women who come through an eating disorder are ever able to have children. I live in a nice home in a nice neighborhood. I have a job in which I just celebrated my 10 year anniversary on Monday. I have friends.

My life is by no means perfect. Whose is? But I feel blessed to be where I am today. Blessed to have what I have. Blessed for all the people who got me through this ordeal that now seems light years away. Blessed to have found Remuda Ranch. Blessed to have life. It's been quite a ride thus far.

To end this series, I would like to post an essay or story of sorts that I wrote shortly after returning from Arizona entitled "The Metamorphisis". I posted this almost a year ago when I first started blogging regularly, but thought it would be a good way to end My Story:

THE METAMORPHISIS

Imagine for amoment with me that you are in your backyard. As you wander through the grass, admiring the crisp fall air, the beautiful leaves turning colors of gold and ash and red, you begin to imagine.

The air smells sweet and has a touch of winter to it. You can picture yourself very soon sitting by the fire, popping popcorn and enjoying being with yourl oved ones at Christmas as you share fond memories of holidays past. As you begin to come out of your reverie, your eyes come face to face with a cocoon, balancing itself onone of the leaves of a tree. You admire it, and you revel at the amazement of the transformation that is happening within that little haven.

An unattractive, rejected creature is going through a metamorphosis that will result in one of the most beautiful creatures God has ever created.....a butterfly. It is completely unique to itself, and unlike any other ever created. Its wings consist of almost every color in the rainbow. Its shape allows it to soar over the earth. It is gentle and humble, un-harming, yet able to take care of itself. You smile to yourself, thank God for smal lwonders, and walk back into your house where Mom has prepared a wonderful meal that your whole family will undoubtedly gorge itself on. The cocoon slips out of your mind, to be un-thought of again until you happen to run across another. You are completely unaware of what is happening within the cocoon....

Outside, the wind begins to blow, rocking the fragile leaf that houses the precious creature inside. Inside the cocoon sits the creature, in a precarious state. Will it make it? Or will the stormy weathers outside its safe shell wreak havoc on the process it is undergoing? It shivers. It can see outside, but it's very foggy. It is completely aware of its surroundings, but unable to attach emotion to it. After all, it's between worlds. It's in a shell, unable to love, live, or communicate until that shell is broken. Until it can spread it's wings and fly and show its beauty to the world. But will it get that chance? Not if the cruel world with its stormy weather and unpredictable circumstances have anything to do with it. No, this creature must rely on a greater force. One that can withstand all the trials and tribulations that it must go through to get there. But it's unable to see, and understand. It must rely on trust. It tries to see out, to understand what's going on in the outside world. It wants to relate, to commune with nature and all of God's creatures. But it's stuck. Bound by a greater force. A hard wall that is strong enough to keep it locked in, but not strong enough to keep out the knowledge that the world is out there. With great effort the creature struggles, and eventually gets enough strength up to push. But to no avail. The wall is as solid as a rock. It tries again. Still no luck. With several more efforts, the creature resigns to the fact that it is stuck there, sighs, and leans against the wall of its prison. "Will I ever get out of here?"it wonders. "Will I ever be able to see the world as everyone else sees it?" It feels alone, lost, scared and unsure. It only longs to be like everyone else, like all the other creatures out there that have already completed their METAMORPHISIS. But alas, it must wait. Hoping it lives through all the obstacles it must live through. It's tired of being on the outside looking in. It's tired of being in a body it feels uncomfortable in. It's tired of being trapped, knowing there's better things out there, but they're so far out of reach, and it has no idea how to bring them within reach. It's just tired. Out of place. Alone.

This scenario describes just as I felt while enduring an eating disorder. It may also be the way many others feel while going through many other types of issues. I was trapped. I knew what was happening, but there wasn't a thing I could do about it. I had no way out. I was an outsider looking in, but unable to be a part of the life I was observing. Like the caterpillar hovering in its cocoon, I was trapped in my own private hell. I watched the world around me, enjoying all the beauty, and everyday activities, but I was completely unable to be a participant. I became withdrawn, preventing myself from being hurt by outside forces. I distanced myself from my family and friends, and became a person that I myself didn't even recognize. What was this strange and unfamiliar creature that was living within me; this disease that had overtaken my body? I tried over and over but to no avail, to try to break that wall, free myself of the prison that I had put myself in. I was lonely, tired, out of place and alone. "What is the purpose of this?", I questioned to myself and to God every single day of my life. Why me, God? Why am I going through this hell? No answer that I got ever satisfied me. And I knew I was stuck. The knowledge of what I was doing to myself superseded the fear of getting fat, of losing control and being unable to regain it. I couldn't let that happen. So I continued to harm myself. I was in danger of not completing the METAMORPHISIS that God was trying to achieve. The outside forces of the world that rocked my safe little haven were threatening to win. Would I make it? Luckily, I did. But not without months of in-patient treatment, and the love and support of my family and friends, and most importantly my final resignation to put my faith, trust, and life in the hands of my creator.....the one who would indeed complete that transformation. It's not an easy thing to overcome, in fact, it's the hardest task I've ever had to accomplish in my whole life. But the end result is amazing......

After what seems forever, the creature begins to stir. It had given up the fight, admitted to the fact that it wasn't its fight in the first place, and placed its well-being in the capable hands of it's creator. It was a terribly hard thing to do, but when that stubborn wall refused to break on its own, and when that fog that clouded its vision refused to lift, it decided it had no choice but to wait....and wait....and wait....and trust that that greater force knew what it was doing. Not that the creature didn't work....Oh, no....it worked with all it's might. For, you see, once it put it's faith and trust in its creator, things began to happen. And the work became a mission to become all it could be and free itself of that horrible prison. And eventually it did....it didn't happen all at once, but day by day, the wall became softer, and the fog became thinner, and the terribly strong strings that had bound it began to unravel. And one day,without even realizing it, they were gone. It had been such a slow subtle process, that it didn't even realize that it was at this very moment soaring over the earth, the wind through its wings, with more freedom than it had ever imagined. Beautiful in its own right, because it was unique.

The butterfly never forgot those days that it spent in that cocoon. While it was a trying and difficult time, and it would never want to repeat it, the experience taught it strength, perseverance, character, and the ability to put its total trust and faith in something it couldn't see, touch, or hear. And the result....total METAMORPHISIS.

By Kristen P.
October 1995

Thanks for taking time to read my story. If it has helped, inspired, or encouraged even one person, then I'm happy that I took the time to write it. It's been quite an experience re-living it all, and I thank you for reading it.




Love,
Kristen

Where I Was Then....Remuda Ranch

So, I wasn't planning on having this series be quite so long. I originally had planned for a total of three posts, but I guess I'm a little more long-winded than I realize. I think I should be wrapping it up in the next couple of posts. We'll see. If it's getting just too long....let me know.
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I don't remember much at all about the drive to the airport or the flight out to Arizona. I only remember getting to the check-in counter at the airport and being asked by the person checking me in if I needed assistance in the plane from a flight attendant. She thought I was twelve years old. I indignantly informed her that, "No. I do not need assistance. I'm 20 years old!" Needless to say, I think she was quite embarrassed.

When arriving in Arizona, a representative from Remuda Ranch was standing at the gate holding a sign up with my name. The drive from the airport to the ranch was about 1.5 hours. It was a long ride for me. I didn't talk much to my "chauffer" and stared out the window most of the time taking in the sights of this state that I had not visited before. The highway was lined with cactuses. The land was dry. It was more than just a little hot and arid. I wasn't sure quite what to expect from this new adventure I was about to embark on. What I did know was that I was tired of being in the situation I was in. I was tired of being tired; tired of feeling like I was on the outside looking in. Tired of the constant struggle and battle that I was having with myself. Logically, I knew I needed to eat to live, but that struggle within myself and the fear of losing control was still there. The help I had received up to that point from my parents, from my nutritionist and from other people who cared about me, although appreciated, was not quite enough.

Trust was an issue for me at that point. Not trust in that I didn't trust the people that were helping me, but trust that the people who were trying to help me were trying to change me somehow. I was scared to leave this control I had established for myself; even though I knew at this point that the control was gone. But I was so exhausted that I was ready to be helped. I had established a relationship with the admissions counselor who admitted me to the Ranch and I felt safe going there, even though I had never met her in person. Somehow I knew and trusted that where I was going that I was going to be OK there. I felt less scared going there than I did to any college I had attempted up to that point. I know that part of that had to do with the fact that I was going to be taken care of. I had obviously not reached a point in my life where I felt confident enough in myself to be on my own; to be independent; and to feel like an adult who could manage life on her own.

One thing that I have learned throughout my experience and through watching the other people at the Ranch is that in order to really truly successfully beat the Anorexia/Bulimia/eating disordered monster, a person must want the help and be ready to accept it. Without that, truly trying to get someone help for it is useless. Sure, they can go to the hospital and get tubes put in them to force them to physically gain weight. They can go to all the therapists in the world, but until the person is ready for help and realizes that there is a problem, it won't truly be solved. I was ready for the help. I longed for the person I used to be; the happy-go-lucky, not a care in the world young woman I had left behind only two short years before.

When I arrived at the Ranch, I was in awe. The beauty of my surroundings was breath-taking. The Ranch sat on top of a hill in the foothills of a little town called Wickenburg, Arizona. From the highest point, I could look down and see the town and the beauty below me. There was a "main house" that housed the dining room, a large sitting room with a large screen TV and couches, and two or three residents rooms. Outside there was a beautiful porch and sitting area with a swing for relaxing. Below the main house was a housing area that consisted of about 10 rooms for more residents and below that were two small houses; one consisting of four more rooms and another that had two more bedrooms and the art room. There was a boarding house that housed about a dozen horses and a ring for riding the horses. There were two dogs that lived on the Ranch; one whom I remember was named "Ugly" because he was truly, well....ugly.


After I took my tour of the Ranch, I was introduced to my "big sister" Rachelle. Each new resident is given another resident to act as their "big sister" throughout their early days. Rachelle was very outgoing and very kind and made me feel at ease right away. Lucky for me, (tongue in cheek), I arrived just as the residents were getting ready to eat lunch. My first meal was pizza. As a new resident "enjoying" my first meal, I was given lee-way and was not forced to eat it and there were no penalties if I didn't. After that, all bets were off. At meal times, there are about four to a table and the table is monitored by a staff person. You are required to eat everything on your plate in the allotted time (1/2 hour) and if your meal is not completed within that time, then they give you a huge glass of Ensure to drink to suppliement the calores you did not consume with your meal. After meals, bathroom visits were also monitored by a staff person. (for obvious reasons).

There were four levels that you could achieve as a resident. With the graduation to each level, you were granted more priveleges. Very few people ever reached level four. As a new resident, you are automatically on Level 1. This level granted literally no privileges and you were monitored very closely. Level 4 allowed "free-reign" of the Ranch; the ability to walk around with no staff present and a seat at the "family style" table at meals where you were able to serve yourself food. Prior to sitting at the "family style" table your meals (which were custom made to each individuals needs) was sitting on a counter to be picked up as you enter the cafeteria.

My first few days at the Ranch were difficult. I had to complete all sorts of surveys, tests, visits with the staff doctor, psychiatrist and nutritionist. It wasn't until I was there for about three days before I got to get involved in the every day life of the Ranch. I also was not allowed to call my parents.

My feelings the first few days after observing the other residents made me feel like perhaps I didn't belong there. There were others there who were so obviously worse off than I was. I entered the Ranch right at 100 lbs. But there were girls there with feeding tubes up their noses, girls who were literal skeletons and sometimes I felt as I was walking around there being looked at like, "What is she doing here?!" I can honestly say that I was one of the "heavier" girls there. One girl, who ended up being my best friend at the Ranch was a mere 85 lbs. One girl took up to 200 laxatives a day. One girl had already been there for 3 months (the typical stay at the Ranch is six weeks). Some had been suffering with the disorder for the large majority of their lives. I was a "newbie" having only been in it for two years.

I soon became immersed in my life at the Ranch. Activities throughout the day included group therapy sessions, individual therapy, Equine therapy (we got our own horse and got to ride it twice a week; once in the ring, once throughout the hills surrounding the Ranch), Art Therapy, chapel, nutrition, and various others. We got weighed every single morning before breakfast. I began to slowly gain weight.

As time went by, I made some wonderful friends there. These girls were kindred spirits. They were going through the same thing I was and we understood eachother. I felt myself coming alive again. The unconditional love, acceptance and friendship I felt from every person I encountered at the Ranch was un-matched. I started to not care when I saw the numbers going up on the scale. I moved up in the various levels and when I was moved up to level 3, I got elected as "mayor" of the residents. This wasn't a huge responsibility, but a new mayor is elected every two weeks, and I got my turn. I made announcements at meals; I was in charge of finding big sisters for new incoming residents. I became one of the residents that the "new girls" looked up to when they arrived at the Ranch.

By the end of my six weeks at the Ranch, I felt like a new person. I felt loved, accepted, confident and more sure of myself. However, I didn't want to leave. I experienced some of my friends leaving and I was wishing I could just stay at this safe haven forever. But I couldn't. My therapist recommended that I move onto the new "half-way house" program they had started in Chandler, Arizona. This would be an additional 3 month program in which I lived in a neighborhood with several other residents; we continued with therapy programs, a nutritionist and could either get a job or go to school. It seemed like the perfect transition for me...

Part 5 Tomorrow: Beyond Remuda

Where I Was Then...The Road To Remuda

Before I start this installment, I just wanted to say "thanks" to those for commenting on my "poor me" post just below. I really wasn't trying to sound like I was feeling sorry for myself, although it probably ended up sounding that way. Regardless, thanks for "de-lurking" and for all the nice, re-affirming comments you left. And thanks to Janice at 5 Minutes For Mom for linking to this series and to Diane for letting Janice know about it.
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After being given the "OK" by my nutritionist to give college a second shot, we once again packed up my belongings and headed south to Oklahoma. I was filled with fear and trepidation wondering if I would succeed this time, or if I once again would end up coming home with another failed semester under my belt. Yes, I had gained the weight that my nutritionist had required of me; I had spent several months back at home healing and relaxing. But how would I feel once my parents left me again and were hundreds of miles away from me?

I had high hopes for the semester. I had a new roommate; one I had met and become acquainted with in the two weeks I was there before; I had a few friends I had made that were anxious to have me return.

Within about two weeks of being there, I discovered that my new roommate appeared to be using me as a "learning tool" on how to become skinny. She asked me for tips, constantly ate my "safe foods" (I had gotten to the point where I quit obsessively counted the optional calories and would allow myself once in a while to partake in a Snackwells cookie or two without counting the extra clories) and began self-induced vomiting. This obviously was not a healthy environment for me to be in while I was attempting to succeed and become healthy.

I eventually got permission from the school to move out of the dormitories and move in for the remainder of the semester with my grandparents who lived only blocks away from campus. I rarely participated in any of the activities at school and after moving away from campus, found it even more difficult to do so and the motivation to try wasn't there. Although it appeared like I was going to complete the semester, my heart wasn't in it. I began communicating with my life long best friend who was going to the Nazarene College in Olathe, Kansas. I even drove out there by myself for a weekend visit with her and became acquainted with some of her friends and even met a guy. Guys had been the last thing on my mind for quite some time needless to say, so the fact that I felt interest and he seemed to as well made me feel somewhat "alive" again. As well, being with someone who was extremely familiar to me was also a comfort. By the end of my semester, I had decided that I was going to leave my current college and go out to Kansas the following school year to room with my best friend.

I don't recall much about the summer following my freshman year of college, which must be a good thing because it means that I wasn't going through anything terribly memorable. I do know that I continued to see my nutritionist throughout the summer, although with less frequency than I had before.

When the summer was over, and I packed up to go to school in Kansas this time, I had a completely different feeling. It was one of excitement and anticipation. I think a lot of that had to do with the fact that I would be rooming with someone I knew my whole life. There was familiarity and comfort in that fact for me. She knew me better than anyone else in my life, probably, besides my parents.

We enjoyed a great first semester together. We were inseparable. We went shopping, to Tippins restaurant to eat cornbread and chicken noodle soup; to the St. Louis Bread Factory to eat their bread bowl soup. We loved to go to movies and pick up a bag of Jelly Bellies to eat during the movie. We taped Days Of Our Lives during the day and watched it together in the evening before we retired faithfully every night at 10:00 (we were rather nerdy college students....I mean, who EVER goes to bed at 10:00 pm in college....we did!) One particularly snowy weekend around Christmas, we sat in our beds all day looking at our homey little Christmas decorated room and cross-stitched. I have very great memories of that semester with her.

Over Christmas vacation, my best friend and college roommate got engaged to her long-time boyfriend. The plan was for them to get married in the summer after that school year was over. While I was happy for her, all of a sudden I felt insecure again. This would mean that I would no longer be able to have her as a roommate. While I didn't realize it at the time, my fall back into losing weight and unhealthy eating was due to my uncertainties of the following school year; not having her as my comfort.

Over the course of the 2nd semseter, I began to rapidly lose weight again. I would come home in the evenings from classes and after work and eat half a can of chicken noodle soup. I would save the rest for the next night. I would have a couple of pretzels or animal crackers throughout the day and that was all. I began to rapidly lose weight again. My roommate was unaware of my eating habits because she worked in the evenings at a car dealership. She was, however, noticing the rapid loss of weight. She began asking me what I had for dinner that evening. Sometimes I would tell her I went to the cafeteria, sometimes I would tell her I went out to get something. Other times I would tell the truth. I didn't want to be harassed about how and what I was eating.

Eventually, my employers at the orthopedic surgeons office I worked for began to notice the weight loss as well. Word got back to my parents and they began to research what should be done for me. I don't remember how they found Remuda Ranch , but through their research, they decided this was where I was going to go. I had to go through a lengthy interview process with the admissions staff there; I had to be evaluated by a nutritionist, a doctor and a psychiatrist to determine if Remuda was the right fit for me. And it was. I was set to be a bridesmaid in my roommates wedding on June 10 of that year, and the following Monday, I would be leaving for Arizona and entering into the best thing that ever happened to me....

Part 4: At Remuda Tomorrow

Visit my mom if you are interested in reading this story from a mother's point of view.

A Little Disheartened

Let me just first say that this in no way is me begging for comments. I don't like it when other people beg for comments, so there is no way I would do it.

I do have to say, though, that for some reason it seems that things I have been writing lately don't seem to be of interest to anyone. The last two days, I have posted something that means a lot to me; it is a part of who I am, it is a difficult journey that I went through and came past. It defines who I am to this day, and I thought it would be a way for people to get to know me better; give more insight to who I am. But it doesn't seem like anyone is really interested in reading it.

Thanks to those that have read it and commented on it. Your comments and kind words mean a lot to me.

Re-living the experience has brought up a lot of memories for me; some good, some not so good. So, before I invest anymore of my time and effort on writing about this, what I want to know is if it's worth it. I'm not asking for people to comment if you really don't want to. But if what I've written has meant anything to you, please let me know. Because I feel like possibly investing any more time on this topic is not worth it.

I'll quit my whining now. I'm really not feeling sorry for myself. I just kind of thought this topic would be of more interest to people.

Thanks for listening.

Oh, and guess what?! I've come into the 21st century and finally have a computer. We're getting our internet hooked up this evening. I can now post from home. Yay for me.

Where I Was Then...Part 2

Part 1 can be read here.

As the summer continued, and the days got closer to packing up and moving hundreds of miles away from the only home I had every known, fear began to set in. At the time, I didn't realize that it was fear. I continued to maintain the illusion of excitement over "flying the coop". Over the course of the summer, I had gone from weighing about 125 lbs (a very healthy weight for someone who is 5 feet 5 inches tall) to weighing around 100 lbs by the end of the summer. My diet consisted of salads with a single tablespoon of fat free Italian dressing (which counted as 5 optional calories) and baby carrots for snack. I would frequent the grocery store almost every day to get a 2 lb bag of baby carrots and munch on those when the need to eat something hit me. After leaving the grocery store, I would go through the Drive-Thru at McDonalds and buy a large Diet Coke. It was the middle of the summer, yet I was cold all of the time. I can specifically remember one instance when I was going to the grocery store where I felt like I was in a daze; I was dressed in very baggy jeans (that two months ago had been too tight) and a sweatshirt and I still felt cold.

My friendships began to suffer. I no longer communicated with any of my friends from high school. Something within me had lost the ability to enjoy life and just be. Every day activities made me nervous and stressed out. I was most comfortable sitting at home watching TV and the clock counting down the hours until the next meal time arrived. Would it be something I could tolerate? Would the meal "calculate" within what I was still allotted for the day? I filled myself up on diet soda because it made me feel "full" yet it wasn't giving me any dreaded calories or fat.

Finally, the time came to pack up and leave for college. I remember one Sunday morning sitting in church with my mom and a feeling of great anxiety and depression overcame me. I wrote my mom a note that said something like, "I have been excited for college for so long. I feel like I should be excited, but I just feel depressed." I couldn't grasp why I was feeling this way. I wanted to be excited so badly. But all I felt was sa black cloud hanging over my head.

The day arrived to leave for school. The drive was about 12 hours. I don't remember much about the drive out there, except for the fact that when you're on the road, there aren't many options for eating except stopping at fast-food restaurants. Suffice it to say, at this point, fast food was not an option for me. Unless I wanted a salad. But the only type of "safe salads" you can get a fast food restaurant are side salads, and even then, they didn't have the right type of dressing.

When I arrived at school, orientation involved all sorts of "getting to know you" activities. I got right in there and put myself out there and made some friends right away. I was bound and determined to make this work for me. My roommate situation wasn't ideal. I spent most of my time I had made with girls from other floors. I got right in there, and did my best to be brave when my parents left me and headed back home.

The cafeteria at school was not fun for me. I stuck to half sandwiches with tiny amounts of meat, or cereal. I wasn't able to use my scales to see how much meat I was eating, or see the calorie count on the bread I was consuming. So rather than risk that I was eating more than I should, I quit going to the cafeteria.

Within about two weeks of arriving at college, I got very ill. I had no energy and I couldn't concentrate. I felt like I was in the twilight zone. My grandmother, who lived just a few blocks from campus took me to the doctor, and after some blood tests it was determined that I had mono. Arrangements were made for my parents to come back and pick me up and take me home immediately. I was torn. I desperately wanted to go home where I felt safe and secure again, but at the same time, I felt like a failure for not being able to do what all of the other 18 year olds were doing; succeeding and having fun at college. I so badly wanted to stay and feel "normal" again. But I had to go home.

My dad came and picked me up. The day I left school was bittersweet. Even if I did get to come back later, would it be the same? Everyone else will have already made friends. I would be behind. Could I come back recovered and still have the great college experience I so longed for?

The remainder of the semester, I spent most of the time laying on the couch at my parent's house. They began the task of nursing me back to health. They got in touch with a well-known nutritionist in our area and I began seeing her once or twice a week. My mom asked me to trust her and let her prepare things for me to eat and trust that she wouldn't give me anything that made me fat. I told her that I would try, but when the first morning I was home she gave me an English muffin with peanut butter and honey on it, I panicked. That was two breads, two proteins, two fats and my entire allottment of optional calories for the day. That one little breakfast contained everything I allowed myself for the day at that point. How was I going to do this?!

It was difficult being back home for me; not only because of the failure I felt I was, but because it was blatantly obvious that my brother was not thrilled at the prospect. He was a junior in high school and I'm fairly confident was happy to be the only child for awhile. Not to mention that my parents were investing so much of their time and effort on me. I sometimes have blamed myself for the path he went down due to my illness.

As fall and winter came, I began to regain some health. My nutritionist told me that if I was able to gain to 110 lbs by the end of the semester, she would feel comfortable allowing me to go back to school second semester. I actually even got a part time job at TCBY after I had recovered from mono. It was in my plans to go back in January. And I did. But there was more difficulty to come....

Part 3 Tomorrow

Where I Was Then... Part 1

anorexia nervosa [(an-uh-rek-see-uh nur-voh-suh)]
A psychosomatic disorder in which the sufferer refuses to eat
and
undertakes activities (such as self-induced vomiting) to bring about
extreme weight loss. Anorexia, which is also characterized by a distorted
self-image, occurs most often in young women aged twelve to twenty-one and may
result in death if medical treatment is not obtained. Treatment for anorexia
often includes extensive counseling to reveal underlying emotional problems.
Medicine and Health
The American Heritage® New Dictionary of Cultural
Literacy, Third EditionCopyright © 2005 by
Houghton Mifflin Company.
Published by Houghton Mifflin Company. All rights reserved.

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The year was 1993. I was a senior in high school. I had thoroughly enjoyed all four years of my high school career. Throughout high school, I had been involved in cheerleading, swimming, band, choir, and the spring musicals. I had great friends, and although I was far from being one of the most popular kids in school (I was one of those who just sort of walked through the halls un-noticed by most people except for my good friends), we had great times together. I was one of the "good kids". I didn't party, didn't break curfew, had friends who were like me in those aspects. The closest thing we ever did to being considered "bad" was toilet papering our crushes lawns and stalking their houses doing drive-bys over and over again to possibly get a glimpse of the poor unsuspecting schmuck. I was a "comfortable" teenager; greatly looking forward to the upcoming adventure I was to embark on the upcoming fall: college. All my life, I had looked forward to college. My cousins and I used to play college together, turning our houses and bedrooms into dorms and dorm rooms. I had visions of what my life would be like at college; on my own, doing my own thing, carving a future out for myself. The pictures in my mind of what college would be like were painted in large part by my mom who had told me many stories of the time that she spent in college; the great friends she made, the things she did, the activities she was involved in.

The plan was to go to the Nazarene college in Bethany, Oklahoma. I had family there, had spent time there in the summers visiting my cousins; and that is where my mom went to college. I was familiar with the town, familiar with the college campus, and because of the time I spent there in the summers with my cousins, I knew a few people. I knew that I was headed for the adventure of a lifetime. And I couldn't wait. The application was submitted, accepted, and dorm arrangements were made. Now all I had to do was wait....

Second semester of my senior year was in full swing. Rehearsals for the spring musical, "The Music Man" were beginning. Chamber Singers (the choir I was in) were performing up to two times a day at various locations. I was working part time after school at KFC. Needless to say, I was a busy senior. And I was enjoying it. I was also dating someone who I worked with at KFC (much to the chagrin of my parents who were less than pleased about it....ironically, I ended up marrying this guys best friend 10 years later....).

As the semester wore on, and summer was fast approaching, I noticed that my Chamber Singers dress was fitting a little more snugly than it had before. The aforementioned boyfriend also once made a comment about me being "squishy" when he was hugging me. This could be attributed to the fact that I worked at KFC and constantly snacked on the less than healthy, albeit very tasty, food that we made there. Regardless of the reason, I wanted to go to college healthy and aware of my food choices so that I would not fall victim to the dreaded "freshman fifteen".

My mom, being a "chronic weight watcher" had all the stuff necessary for me to learn how to eat; not necessarily lose weight, but just learn how to make smart choices where food is concerned. So, I pulled out all of her old Weight Watchers materials and began to use the program. I learned how many carbs were "OK" per day, how many proteins, veggies, fruits and fats....a word I had truly learned to fear and hate. Also allotted were optional calories which came in the form of salad dressing, candy, gum, etc. Yes....optional calories could be used on gum. No longer would I stick a piece of gum without calculating how many of my precious optional calories I was using.

Within the first week, I had lost seven pounds. It wasn't necessarily my intention, but since it had happened, I wasn't disappointed. My chamber singers dress fit well again, and my snug fitting jeans weren't quite so snug.

Week after week, I continued to lose weight. I could no longer go to restaurants without carrying my precious cheat book that showed me how many carbs, proteins, etc....each potential food item contained. If what I wanted to order was not listed, or I couldn't figure it out with certainty, I wouldn't order it. Eating out became a chore rather than a pleasure. Something to fear, rather than enjoy.

Once I hit a certain weight, my mom told me I needed to start using the tools to maintain my weight, not continue losing. But this meant increasing my daily allotment to which I had become so used to, and also (in my mind) meant gaining weight back, rather than maintaining it. It was a risk I was unwilling to take. In fact, the more pressure I got to increase to maintain, the lower I went in my daily portions. It became something I could control that no one else could....what I didn't realize, was that I was losing control...

Part 2 Tomorrow

Uprooted

Due to changes in the office, I get to move my desk.....once again. I just got moved a few months ago, and I get to move again.....to a smaller desk.....that I have to share with someone. Yipee. I'm kinda bummed right now, for more than one reason. Oh, well. Hope the weekend is good for everyone. Peace.

"Just Keep Swimmin' "

"Hey Mr. Grumpy Gills! You know what you do when life gets you down? Just keep swimmin', swimmin', swimmin. What do we do? We swim, swim, swim". --Dory (spoken to the eternal pessimistic Marlin; Nemo's Dad)

My daughters are huge fans of the Pixar movies. Every week, there is a different one that they choose to watch over and over and over until I want to rip that particular DVD out of the player and chuck it as far as I can away from our house as I can so that I never have to see it again. Except for "Finding Nemo". There is something about that movie that is so endearing to me. Somehow I don't tire of that one. This week, it is their movie of choice.

I love Dory. Dory is the memory challenged, but forever optimistic fish that befriends Marlin in his search for his son, Nemo after he is captured by deep sea divers and fated to live with Darla, "the fish killer".

Yesterday, while Care Bear was at pre-school and Feisty was in the bath-tub (which seems to be her routine every afternoon after Care Bear goes to school--I personally think it's because she gets the whole tub to herself), I settled on my couch with a blanket and my remote to watch "Days Of Our Lives". I look forward to my one hour a day when I can watch my ridiculous soap while Feisty typically entertains herself doing otherwise. However, yesterday after getting out of the bath, she was determined to watch Nemo. Nevermind the fact that she had already watched it once that morning and that mommy was desperately trying to find out what Lucas was going to do to E.J. after he attacked Sami. Nothin' doin'. She wasn't going to be happy 'til she got her 2nd Nemo fix of the day. So, I reluctantly and almost tearfully switched the TV from TV mode to DVD mode and popped in the DVD for her. I determined that I would have to just find out what Lucas did to Sami via Dustin's Days Page.

I plopped back on the couch with "Chicken Soup For the Parent's Soul" to read some awe-inspiring stories of parent-hood when I heard my door knob rattling and someone attempting to get in. I panicked slightly until I saw a little blonde headed girl walk up the stairs and make herself at home. Blondie 2 had decided to pay us a little visit and promptly sat down next to Feisty to engage in Nemo with her. For the next half hour or so, my book took a back-seat to the sheer entertainment and heart-mushy feeling I was getting watching this little 2 year old and 3 year old sit together watching this movie with the occasional conversation:

Blondie 2: "Hey Feisty. They're going to touch the butt". (If you haven't seen Nemo, this particular sentence won't make sense to you. Watch it. It's worth your time).

Feisty: "Yeah. They're gonna touch the butt. I no want to go out there. It's scary!"

A few moments of silence.

Blondie 2: "Hey Feisty! Look at my owie." (Holding up her foot for Feisty to look at).
Feisty: "Oh. Yeah. You should wear shoes!" (Blondie 2 never wears shoes or socks....regardless of the weather).

I got a real kick out of listening to their conversations. I could see my daughter 12 years from now as a teenager sitting on the couch with her friends having conversations like that; but on a more adult level.

As I continued to listen to their conversation, my eyes glanced back at the TV just as Marlin discovered that Dory had dropped the mask that gave them the clue as to where Nemo was located. Marlin believed that all was lost. He was ready to give up. And then I heard the quote. Dory said, "Hey Mr. Grumpy Gills! You know what you do when life gets you down? Just keep swimmin, Just keep swimmin', just keep swimmin, swimmin, swimmin; what do you do you swim, swim, swim!"

And then my mind wandered back to last week; the week of my funk. The week where I felt like Marlin, the pessimist.

And right then I realized, that without even realizing it, that "the funk" seemed to have passed. There was no bolt of lightning that hit me that took me out of it; no defining moment. I didn't just wake up one morning and say to myself, "Wow. Great. The funk seems to have passed." I just discovered that the clutching feeling in my stomach was gone. The "crawly" feeling was gone. The angst was gone. I was actually sitting on my couch, relaxing and not feeling like I was going to jump out of my skin. It was a cool feeling to realize that, and an even weirder feeling to realize that I hadn't noticed it before.

The weekend was great. My girls were great. They had a wonderful time at the birthday party they went to this weekend. They went to bed good and slept all through the night without waking me up. And they had a good time at church on Sunday. I got a nap on Sunday afternoon when my wonderful Dad took them to the park, and we had a good time at my in-laws Sunday evening.

I don't believe that my funk passed simply because they were "good and well-behaved" for me this weekend.....although that certainly did help. Thinking back on it, I believe it was gone before the weekend even came.

The quote from Dory in that movie made me realize that her advice is what I practiced last week in the midst of my funk. No, I didn't keep swimmin'. But I did keep goin'. As much as I wanted to just lay in my bed the whole week with the covers over my head and pretend that nothing and no-one existed, I didn't do that. I really didn't have any choice. I just kept goin'. And by being pro-active, and forcing myself to focus on postive things rather than dwelling on negative, my negative feelings began to cease. Slowly, but surely. And without me even noticing it.

I'm hoping that I don't feel that low again anytime soon, but in the event that I do, I know how to combat it.

A few more positive things have occurred recently as well. The director of Care Bear's pre-school caught me in the hall yesterday and informed me that someone donated some scholarship money to the school and that Care Bear was one of the recipients of that scholarship money. Her December tuition is paid for thanks to the kindness of someone un-known to me.

My husband's attitude towards life lately seems to have changed significantly. And it's all thanks to his being a part of the Praise Band at our church. My husband lives and breathes music. He needs music as much as he needs air and water. Almost all of his free time is somehow spent revolved around music. He used to be in a band with some friends, long before he met me, but nothing ever happened with his band. Since then, he has said time and time again how he wishes he could somehow be part of a band again. Enter: Praise Band. Granted, it's not the type of music that he typically likes to play or listen to. But he has enjoyed it nonetheless. Playing the drums again has done wonders for his self-esteem and his need to play music.

One of his favorite activities is to stand for hours at his CD burner, with his MP3 player and make mixed CD after mixed CD after mixed CD. Most often, unsavory music that I could really do without. However, lately, his tastes have turned to Christian music. His mission: to find songs that our band can play. He spent hours last night preparing a CD to present to our band as potential music to play. He listens to the Christian radio station in his truck. He often talks about ways to improve our performances. And recently, he has been asked by two of the members in our praise band to join their other band that they have. If he can secure a drum set (which we are working on), he's as good as a member of the band. I can not tell you how much this prospect excites him.

He told me last night that he was going through his HUMONGOUS collection of CDs and that there are a lot of them in there that he doesn't even feel that he can play or listen to anymore because they are "too negative". The seeds have been planted.....

Happy Thanksgiving to all!

P.S....I just did the Holiday Meme over at my meme blog. Go check it out, too, and consider yourself tagged!

Continuing on the Positive Trend

The other day, I did a post focusing on the positive things in my life to keep my focus and combat the negative. In continuing this trend, I thought of some more. It seems to be helping a little, and despite the fact that I had the stomach flu all day yesterday and the hubby had to come home from work to take care of the kids, and despite the fact that our nice, expensive flat screen TV quit working yesterday for some unknown reason, I'm feeling a little better.

• Karen gave birth to Baby Boy Trade-Off yesterday afternoon at 4:47. He was 8 lbs 10 oz and 21 inches. I've seen pictures and let me tell you; there is no shortage of beauty in that family. Go on over there if you haven't already and congratulate the whole Trade-Off family!
• My best childhood friend gave birth to a baby boy a week and a half ago. 8 lbs 12 oz and 21 inches long.
• My cousin's wife, Sherry gave birth to an adorable little boy at the end of October. He's a doll baby as well.
• My other cousin's wife, Amanda, is pregnant with her second child; also a boy.
• My cousin, Beth got to be in the delivery room when Karen gave birth to baby boy Trade-Off and did a beautiful tribute to the miracle of child-birth over on her blog today. Go read it. It's lovely.
• My children are lucky enough to be watched by my mother....free of charge....rather than go to a daycare or babysitter. She selflessly went part time at her job so I could continue to stay at home part time with my children and not have to pay astronomical day care fees.
• Care Bear got invited to her first friend birthday party for a friend of hers in pre-school. She's giddy with excitement and has been counting down the days until she gets to go tomorrow at 3:00!
• I have a Bible Study group who I meet with weekly on Thursday mornings. I look forward to this every week as my chance to get to interact with other young moms going through the same things I am going through. Unfortunately, this week when I could have used that time the most, I was sick at home in bed and praying to the porcelain god. We are currently studying Old Testament history and I have to say it is very fascinating.
• I have a wonderful immediate family and extended family who are all wonderfully supportive and love eachother unconditionally.
• I have been lucky enough to have the same job for ten years now, and while it is not my "dream job", I get paid for it, I get benefits, I like the people I work with, and they are willing to work with my part time schedule.....which is very hard to find these days. And when I am ready to go back full time they are ready for me to do so.
• When I ever get back into school full-time, since I do work for a University, some of my credits will get paid for.

Coming up with this list of things to be thankful for has really taken the focus off of the negative things that I feel I have been overwhelmed with. Challenging myself to find the positives rather than the negatives has been helpful. I really do have a lot to be thankful for. And I'm also grateful for my.....

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for this day and thank you for all the things we did today. Please, please help Micah to get better. And please help me not to have bad dreams. and help Blondie 1's wall to not be broken anymore. I mean, help her window to not be broken anymore, because someone threw a rock in it and broke her window. I don't know who did it. But maybe someday I'll know. Help it to get fixed so she doesn't get cold at night when she's sleeping. And I love you.

Amen!

She then went on to say goodnight to everything: "Goodnight Mommy. Goodnight Moon. Goodnight mush. Goodnight chicken nuggets. Goodnight sauce. Goodnight socks. Goodnight cow....." until she fell asleep.

Focus On The Positive

I wrote a post earlier today that was extremely depressing. I even posted it and left it up for awhile, but then after reading it I was concerned that someone might call the suicide hotline or something so I decided to take it down. No worries; I'm not that depressed, but I couldn't stand to leave it up. Those of you who subscribe to me through bloglines may still be subjected to it and already have read it. If so, just keep me in your thoughts and prayers. In the meantime, I decided to focus on the positive things that are going on instead of all the negative. Try to be a "glass full" kinda gal. So, in the interest of maintaining my sanity, the positives in my so called life:

• I had Anakin's conference last week. The good news is that he has a fantastic teacher this year that he absolutely loves, which is always a plus. She is a kind, caring woman who has Anakin's best interests at heart and is committed to helping us with Anakin's ADHD sans drugs. We came up with some plans and ideas to assist him and we're implementing some of them right now. So far, so good.
• I had Care Bear's conference with her pre-school teacher last week as well. Her teacher absolutely loves Care Bear and has no concerns where she is concerned either academically or socially. Care Bear is ready for kindergarten....and then some. She can spell her name, write her name, recognize her name. She knows the alphabet; she can count to 30 and beyond. She knows the days of the week and the months of the year. She is learning about sounding out letters and now walks around counting numbers on the calendar and sounding out letters all the time. Her vocabulary amazes me every day. The other day she informed me that I am "tremendous", and last night when she was frustrated by her glasses (more on the glasses situation later), she was moaning that "this is so traumatic!"
• Feisty is feisty; but she is an extremely kind-hearted and empathetic little feisty. She is my little peace maker and is very concerned whenever anyone is upset, sad or angry. She adores her sister more than words can say. Last night when I was down in the dumps, and visibly so, Feisty came up to me and hugged my arm and lay her head on my lap. She told me, "It's OK, Mommy."
• On the glasses front; Care Bear and Feisty both now have appointments for their eyes on December 4. At that time I will find out if Feisty has to wear glasses and be able to order new ones for Care Bear. In the meantime, the eye center has said that they can fix Care Bear's stem temporarily until we order her new ones after her appointment.
• Hubby and I were able to get out last Friday night together. Anakin stayed with his aunt and uncle and the girls stayed with my mom. While the "evening out" certainly did not take away the anxiety I seem to be experiencing lately, at least for awhile I was able to try and forget about it.
• The holidays are coming up. I LOVE, LOVE, LOVE the holidays. Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Years....all of them. I'm hoping that the holidays serve as a distraction from whatever my problem is this year, rather than my problems dampening the holidays. I always start to decorate my house the day after Thanksgiving, so in just a little over a week, my house will be decked out, the Christmas CDs will be out and a fire in the fireplace will be a mainstay in my house....oh yeah!
• Last year, the day we decorated our Christmas tree, my husband went out and purchased "The Polar Express". As sort of a last minute idea, we invited my parents to come over and watch it with us and have hot chocolate and a fire in the fireplace. It was such a wild success with the kids that whenever they get the urge to watch "The Polar Express", they have to watch it accompanied with hot chocolate....whether it's the middle of the summer, or if there is snow on the ground. We decided to make it a tradition and our 2nd annual "Polar Express" viewing will be the day after Thanksgiving after we decorate our tree. This year I'm going to make more treats and also invite my husband's side of the family. It'll be a good time. I love that we started a new tradition for our kids.
• My garbage disposal is working again (knock on wood), and I got the clean clothes put away. As long as I close Anakin's bedroom door, my house looks somewhat clean.
• My kids love me. Ornery or not; disobedient or not; rowdy or not; they love me. And they know I love them. That's enough to give me a smile.

So, there it is. My list of positives. And now for a.....

Dear Jesus,

Thank you for this day; it was the best day ever. I loved all the things we did today. And please help Micah to get better because I don't want him to be sick. And please help me not to have bad dreams. And thank you for this day. I love you. Amen.

The Funk Continues

I'm not sure what is going on with me these past few days. Usually I'm a pretty content person. I'll have the occasional day now and then where I feel down in the dumps, but it typically doesn't last more than a day. I've felt this way all week and I can't pinpoint one certain thing that is making me feel so low. I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin, but I have no way to get out of my skin. The smoking cessation isn't going as smoothly as I had hoped. I set a plan in motion for myself to make next Tuesday my "put on the patch" day, but I don't know.

I feel like I want a "getaway" but in picturing my getaway, I still feel "crawly". I feel like my whole body has "Restless Leg Syndrome".

I'm not out of my anti-anxiety medication, which is often a question I get when I'm not feeling "quite right". It's not "that time of the month". I wish there was a plausible excuse for the way I'm feeling because then at least I would know that there's a time I can pinpoint when I may feel better.

I'm almost starting to wonder if there is something physically wrong with me that is making me feel like this, but how am I supposed to explain something like that to a doctor? "Um yeah, doc, I feel like I'm crawling out of my skin. Nothing feels right or normal. Yes, I am taking my anti-anxiety medication. No, I'm not on drugs. But is there one you can give me that will fix this?"

I'm not used to this feeling and I'm not enjoying it. Not.One.Bit. Even then "getaway" of my paying job isn't relieving this feeling, which indicates to me that it's not just the stresses of home-life that are getting to me.

This is not a fun place to be right now, so I don't blame any of you if you remove me from your bloglines so you don't have to keep listening to me whine.

**In some fun news: My best friend throughout childhood gave birth to her third baby; a boy; on Wednesday. 8 lbs 12 oz and 21.5 inches. Can you say huge?

**Anxiously awaiting the news of Baby Trade Off any day now.

**The other day, Care Bear told me I'm "tremendous". At least my kids don't seem to be sensing the way I feel. I feel like the crapola-ness is oozing out of my pours, so good to know that she still thinks the world of me.

Unabashed Honesty

The last week or so, I have struggled to figure out something to write about. Nothing seems to be coming to me that seems worth posting, or anything that you all would be interested in reading about. I've actually been feeling a little on the bummed out side the past week or so; motivation to do anything is minimal.

--My garbage disposal has been giving me fits the past couple of weeks so dishes pile up
--I've got clean clothes piled up all over the place that need to be put away
--dirty clothes that need to be washed
--the kids seem extra ornery these days
--My husband and I haven't been out together in months
--Money, to put it mildly, is tight...as tight as a drum.

To use Karen's term, I'm in a funk.

The money thing is what really has me down right now, and the huge weight of that is making the other things that much harder to deal with.

--Care Bear needs to new glasses; her stem came off and they are being held together with tape right now. They are so scratched up I don't know how she can see out of them.
--Feisty, I'm concerned, may need glasses, too. She's blinking a lot lately, and when Care Bear was diagnosed with amblyopia I was pregnant with Feisty and they told me that the likelihood of the baby I was carrying having the same thing is high. I've been obsessively monitoring her eyes since she was born and lately I wonder if I need to get her into the eye doctor.
--My insurance doesn't cover eye care. What is wrong with that picture?! I work for the state.....shouldn't they assume that a good percentage of the people (which is thousands upon thousands) maybe, just maybe, may have the need to have their eyes cared for?!
--Anakin needs to get some cavities filled; Care Bear needs to get a cavity filled.
--My wages are currently being garnished a ridiculous amount out of every paycheck for a hospital bill from several years ago. This shouldn't be going on much longer.

And (here is where the unabashed honesty comes in), I have a habit. The habit I've had has been with me off and on for about 10 years now. The habit came along during a stressful time in my life and while the habit is anything but healthy, it helps relieve stress. Those of you who don't have the habit probably will see that as a cop-out and can never understand how it relieves stress, and how extremely difficult the habit is to break. But the habit is expensive. Given the fact that my money situation is in dire straits, that I have kids that I don't want to expose to this habit anymore, and that eventually the habit could literally be the death of me, I want to quit. But it's harder than anyone can imagine. Add to that the "funk" lately, adding quitting the habit to all of that could easily make me a very irritable and not fun person to be around.

I hope I don't embarass my mom to tears that I am divulging this information to the world...or the ten people who read my blog....but it's my blog and it's something I'm dealing with that I could use the support of all the wonderful people I've met here in blogland. And I sincerely hope that those of you who think I'm this great person don't lose your respect for me and instead see this as me being completely honest and wanting to do what's best for me and my family.

The habit is smoking. When I'm being constantly harassed by people to quit the habit, I always tell myself and them that there are far worse habits out there I could have. I don't have a drinking problem; I don't do drugs; I don't gamble; I take care of my kids. I hear stories all the time from Anakin's biological mom of people she knows who have lost their kids to the system due to habits that they have that make them incapable of taking care of their kids. And smoking doesn't keep me from taking care of my kids in that I'm not incapacitated to the point that they are getting themselves ready for school and making their own meals.

Awhile back, I told my mom that I wanted the patch to see if that could help in anyway. That day she ran out and got me a box of the patch. It's been several weeks and I keep "mentally preparing" myself for the day that I open that box and stick the patch on. But it's the mental preparation part that is hard. What do I do when I get stressed out? When I need a few minutes away from the chaos in my home? It is a habit, and any habit is hard to break and takes time and patience.

I rue the day that I first lit up one of those things and put it to my lips. I was in a vulnerable and impressionable time in my life and "everyone else was doing it". I know that's not an excuse, but that's how it happened.

So, there I am putting it all out there for you folks. I'm not perfect. I've never claimed to be. I've done things in my life I'm not proud of. This is the one remaining thing that I have that I continue to hold on to and is very hard to get rid of. And these are things that are on my mind today. I'm just a big, giant ball of stress right now, and I thank you for listening. And I hope you still love me.

Peace.

**Anyone who reads my blog and knows me in real life....please don't pass this information on to others that know me who don't read my blog. I appreciate it.

I'm Being Honored

Honored at my job for ten years of brutal service. Just me. No one else...

OK, so I'm not the only one being honored. I'm probably among a couple hundred others, but regardless......

I had a piece of mail in my mailbox this morning when I got to work. I was going to scan it and post it here, but thought that the words might appear too small and you wouldn't be able to read it, so I'm just going to type it out.

October 13, 2006

Dear Kristen:

On the occasion of your 10 years of service to **** **** University, I am pleased to extend a sincere thank you for your fine work and commitment to this institution. The members of the **** **** University Activities Board join me in inviting you to participate in the Celebrating Service Milestons event on Thursday, November 9, 2006. All three employee groups will come together in this recognition event. An invitation will be sent to our campus community.

3:00 Awards Ceremony

4:00 All-University Reception

To recognize your years of service, you will receive a special pin upon arrival. This memento signifies our appreciation for your dedicated service to **** **** University. Your name will be published at the event. Following the ceremony is a reception in honor of you and your fellow honorees. There will be a photographer available to take a complimentary photo of you and your spouse or guest during the reception.

It is my pleasure to invite you and your family and friends to be our guests for these events. Please respond to (email address here) by October 31 to let us know whether or not you will be able to attend. If you have any questions please contact ************.

Thank you for your fine work and dedication to **** **** University. We look forward to seeing you on November 9!

Sincerely,

(President of the University)

When I started this job nearly ten years ago (ten years in January), little did I know that ten years later, I'd still be here. It's not a bad job. The benefits are good, the pay is reasonable, and they work with my schedule....I just thought by the time I was 31 years old I would be working my dream job. Maybe that dream job will never come; if not, retiring from here won't be too bad. If I'm here 25 years, I can retire with 75% of my wages.....by the time my girls graduate from high school I could be done working.....if I stick around. We'll see where life takes me in the next 15 years.

And did you see that? I get my name in the publication. I'll be famous again! Hey, it's better being famous for that than famous for this!

Have a superb weekend y'all!

Forgiveness

I have an issue with this: Forgiveness. I have quite a few people in my life who seem to make it their mission in their life to make mine (or others close to me) miserable. I mentioned one such person in my post Wednesday. I've also mentioned a certain BM who likes to make everyone she comes in contact with miserable. And then there is a former sister-in-law....and I'm sure there are others, but those are the most pre-dominant.

The thing is, these people aren't just minor annoyances in my life who have done a thing or two to bug me. They have done, and continue to do things that can alter lives. And that to me is hard to forgive.

I thought a lot about my post the other day, and about the comments I received from people; the need to forgive and pray for those that wrong me. And I know I need to do this. It is just something that is very, very hard for me to do.

My plan this morning was to do a post about forgiveness. I was going to come in, go to the Bible on-line and search for verses about forgiveness. Then I was going to post my thoughts on it and what I may need to do in my quest to forgive those who do me and my loved ones harm. But it turns out, I didn't even need to do a search.

When I open my email first thing in the morning, I always go through new, unread emails to see what I need to read, and what can be tossed. Today, I received an email from my aunt Cheryl. Cheryl rarely emails me, and this one happened to be sent to several people in our family. I went ahead and opened it to see what it said. It turns out, she was emailing us todays entry from an online devotional that she does called "The 21 Day Habit". Today was Day 3, and the topic? FORGIVENESS. I didn't need to go online to search for verses on forgiveness, because they were right there for me when I opened my e-mail. Here are a couple of them:

You must make allowance for each other's faults and forgive the person who offends you. Remember, the Lord forgave you, so you must forgive others. Colossians 3:13

Get rid of all bitterness, rage, anger, harsh words, and slander, as well as all types of malicious behavior. Instead, be kind to each other, tenderhearted, forgiving one another, just as God through Christ has forgiven you. Ephesians 4:31-32

Now, I don't know about you, but I don't think it was any small coincidence that I found this in my Inbox this morning.

I'm still feeling the sting from the events of the past, and the present, and probably the future. But it is my job to be the bigger person and forgive. It won't be easy, but I will try.