What's one more thing?

It's just too much!

I feel like one more illness, diagnosis, issue is going to push me over the edge. 
There's "strength", then there's "having no other choice".  And that's where I am right now.  My body is failing me, and with it go my emotions.  I'm so used to being able to control at least one of those, that when they're both beyond my control I just feel lost.  Tears are constantly just below the surface, threatening to spill out whenever they please, with no regard to person or place.

I don't understand what is going on, and I question so much right now.  I just want to be "me" again.  But I suppose that definition is forever changed.  I have to deal; to re-invent who I am.  I'm isolated right now, and I've done it to myself.  Please don't take it personally.  We all deal in different ways.  I need to compartmentalize.

Reality, life, bites sometimes.  But the alternative is not an option.  So, I will trudge on.  It just sucks that House might have been wrong.

Sliding

I got up this morning and my son's car was parked, cock-eyed, at the bottom of the driveway.  Interesting, I thought.  I often don't understand why he does what he does, so this seemed like one of those things.

When he got out of bed, I asked him about his unique park job.  He went to the window and looked out.  "I didn't park there".  Hmmm.  It seems that the car drifted down the icy driveway overnight.  It's a good thing he had the wheel turned.  It caused the car to slightly turn sideways, instead of going straight out into the street and into the neighbor's yard.

I've been feeling a little like my life is just going along, on auto pilot, lately.  I, too, could easily slide down a slippery slope if my "wheel" weren't turned.  Finding hope in the small, daily details brings sanity and purpose.

I remember

I didn't go to Water Street today.  I just had way too much arthritic pain in my knuckles and toes.  It makes me sad that I missed this opportunity.  It's something I really look forward to each week.  So, instead, I sat on the couch with a blanket (and meds) most of the day.

I hate days like this, but one positive was my son sat there with me for a while, just talking and watching tv.  Times like this are precious.  He's a man and will soon be off on his own, supporting himself, too busy to just sit.  That's exactly how I raised him and his sister to be: productive, capable adults.  I just didn't count on getting old along the way.

I didn't used to understand what my Gram was talking about when she'd call on my birthday and tell me how much older she felt.  Now I know.  I look back and see my oldest nephew be born.  He's married now and 35, but it seems just like yesterday.  How quickly the time flies!

There are times when events seems a lifetime ago.  Then there are other times I remember things like it was just yesterday.  Times when I connect with friends from my youth, and it feels like we just pick up right where we left off the last time we were together.  Or when I go to sleep in my old room at my parent's house, and it's hard to believe I haven't lived there in 26 years.  The mind is an amazing thing.

My body may be breaking down, but my mind is still alive.  Well, for the most part anyway.  I may not have all the memory I used to, but I remember the important things.  Lasting friendships.  The ones I love.  Events important only to me.  Remembering is great.  Making new memories is better.

Buck up, camper

Sometimes, when we are at the lowest we think we can possibly be; when we don't even have anything to say, so there's just silence, it's hard to even look up.  It's so easy to focus on the negative, the things going wrong, the things not happening that should be happening and to wallow in self-pity and doubt.  As much as I like to think of myself as an even-tempered person, I fall into this trap, too.  And when I do, I fall h-a-r-d.

I think this is most often true when I have decided to make changes in my character, relationships, life in general.  When no forward progress is seen, doubt creeps in.  When I don't feel well (which is fairly often these days), I become even more introverted.  It's so much easier to just detach from eveyone and everything; to cocoon myself in and wallow.

I can usually look back on my own and count the positives in my life, which gives me a better perspective on current situations.  Today, I had a little help.  Thanks to some very special ladies who made my day and helped open my eyes.  I'm not alone.  Even when I try to make it that way.

Bubble girl

Sometimes, I wish I lived in a bubble.  No people.  No noise.  No stress.
I'm just tired of people.  I'm tired of answering questions.  I'm tired of feeling bad and being in pain.  But most of all, I'm tired of people's words not matching their actions.  Empty words. They really don't do anybody any good. It makes the speaker look bad, and makes the hearer feel bad.  How does that help anybody?

If you can't handle what I'm going through, just say so.  If you don't understand what is happening, it's okay.  Neither do I.   But don't talk down to me.  Don't feign pity then call me a burden.  This affects me more than you.  What?  Is that a surprise? 

Normally, I say there's no place in my history I would want to go back to, but I'd gladly turn back the clock four years.  Back to before all this started and I felt good, contributed and was useful. I would put myself in that bubble and none of this would happen.  Unfortunately, that's not an option.  Thanks for popping my bubble.

Where are the words?

Have you ever felt at a complete loss for the words to adequately describe how you feel?  Verbally, this happens to me often; it's pretty unusual when I write.  Yet, that is where I find myself.

Lately it's been easy to focus on trying to sell this house or my ever-increasing health problems.  If I allowed myself to be, I could easily be totally engrossed with it and quickly lose sight of what is important around me.  That's really not where I want to be.

I've known my husband for more than 25 years.  (Where does the time go?)  I met him at a time when I was very wounded, damaged and needing a friend.  Though he wasn't what I expected, he was exactly what I needed and refused to be driven away.

We've weathered more than our share of storms.  Some were due to our own stupidity, some we suffered at the hand of others, but we weren't crushed and couldn't be driven apart.  We never fell out of love at the same time.  That's no small miracle!

After so many years it's easy to just fall into a routine, to take eachother for granted.  One of my goals for this year is to let those I love know I love them.  This is where the loss of words comes into play.  My heart is full.  Bursting!  But I am clueless to express it.

My husband is a man of God, a loving father and gentle husband.  He cares for me with a tenderness that overwhelms me, that I don't deserve.  I love him with every fiber of being.  That sounds so hollow, but nothing rings more true. 

Great comeback

Did you ever have one of those events when you think of the GREAT comment later, when you're home, and it's too late?  Yeah, me too.

On my way home from the mission this afternoon, I passed an old "friend" on the highway.  I use that term loosely, since I haven't seen her in over two years.  Not since she called the police and falsely accused me of harassment.  But I digress.

As I was passing her van I thought "she looks familiar".  She must have thought so, too, because she pulled up to where she could see me in my side view mirror.  No kidding, she slammed on her breaks and pulled in behind me, staying about 3 car lengths away.  When I pulled off at the exit, she was right behind me, staring me down in my rear-view mirror.

I was so startled to see her that I didn't know what to do.  But as I've played it over and over again in my mind, it ended in many different scenarios.  I think my favorite one is that I pulled up beside her, looked her straight in the face, gave her the biggest grin that showed all my teeth and waved like I was SO glad to see her.  I'm sure that would have pushed her over the edge.

When I am playing out these responses in my head, I sometimes wish I had thought of them at the moment.  But more often than not I realize the blessing of haven't thought of it then.

New friends

Sometimes, just meeting people can make all the difference. 
We started attending a new church about three months ago.  We're planning to move down into the city, so we decided to find a church near where we want to live.  The problem?  It's a HUGE church. 

Now this isn't a problem for my husband, Mr. social butterfly.  EVERYone is his friend.  It's a little harder for me.  I prefer to pick my own friends, in my own time, and not have them foisted on me as "a good fit".  So, that's the stage we've been in recently.

Today after church was a meet the church event.  I'm not really a big fan of these as they just serve to single out the newer people in a more conspicuous way.  But we went.  Immediately the hubby found people he'd spoken to before.  Great.

We met most of the staff, and I did get to meet a few other ladies.  I wouldn't say there was a huge amount of chemistry with most of them, but I did find one more like me and we talked quite a while.  Will it be a fast friendship?  Who knows, but now I have people to say "hi" to each week.

What is enough?

Did you ever feel like there was enough going on when yet another thing is added?
On top of persistent health issues and the stress of trying to sell this stupid house, today's trip to the doctor gave more questions.  And stress.  Stress and fibromyalgia do not mix well.  So begins the vicious cycle.

I wish I knew why my body has decided to attack itself.  Maybe then I could do something about it.  The not knowing drives me crazy!  So I carry on, day by day, trying to live as normally as I can.  Some days are good, some days not so good.  That means I do what I can, when I can.

I was talking on the phone with my parents today, telling them about the doctor appointment.  My dad was wondering how I keep going, cooking, living when I have chronic pain.  The fact is, I can't stop.  It really isn't an option.  If I succumb to the pain and quit living in the daily details, I'll never crawl back up.

The other day, a friend asked if I believe God doesn't give us more than we can handle.  I do believe that, but I also think it doesn't really feel like that when it's happening.  But I can't help but wonder just how much He thinks I can handle!  I consider myself a pretty strong person, and alot of that is because I have a strong support system.  However, when things begin to pile up like this I can't help but wonder how much more can there possibly be.

I think it's time to apply for disability and that's a horrifying prospect.  It means admitting I am not longer able.  It means processing how I think others see me, as well as listing all the things medically wrong with me.  All the things that I struggle to not let define me will be front and center, displayed for all to see.  To me, that is perhaps worse than everything else.

Time for group

Tonight I'm attending a support group for Weight Loss Surgery (WLS) patients at Ephrata hospital. 
I had gastric bypass  surgery at the end of 2009, and have lost 106 pounds.  The WLS was a great tool, but food and weight are still a big issue for me.

When I signed up for the surgery I was required to attend a pre-surgery support group.  This group consisted of people in various stages of "the process", and it helped prepare me for what was going to happen and what to expect.  Following WLS I should have started attending a support group.  But I didn't really feel I needed it, and driving to Hershey (where I'd had my surgery) just wasn't convenient.  For the most part I have done ok, with the exception of maintaining a consistent exercise regime.

I have never been much of an exerciser.  I enjoy being outside, swimming and biking, but always on a casual basis.  To suddenly have to focus on it so completely isn't much fun.  It was easier leading up to and immediately following surgery when I knew it was "required".  Plus, I could see fairly immediate results then.  Now, I have to work twice as hard to burn half as many calories and that mystifies me.

So, I have decided maybe I do need this group after all.  While I do not relish the thought of spilling my guts, aka being vulnerable, to a group of people I haven't met before, it's comforting to know that we all have a shared experience.  I probably should have gone long ago, but now is better than later. 

Mission Mondays

On Mondays I serve lunch at the Water Street Mission.  I've been doing this four years.
I like to be at the front of the line so that I can greet each person as they enter the line.   Most people give some sort of greeting back.  My conversation with one man in particular is the same each week.
We exchange hellos, then when I ask how he is, he replies "middle aged".  It amuses him so much to say it that lately he doesn't even wait for me to finish the sentence before he begins his answer.

I'm 44.  So, in reality, I am most likely in the middle of my life.  But I don't see a reason for that to define me or determine how I am.  I see it as I still have 44 years to live, to make a difference, to contribute.  Much of the first half of my life was wasted, in my opinion, with frivolous, trivial pursuits in an attempt to become who I am.  Now that I've established that, the secong half should be a piece of cake.

Perhaps I should change my question to "who are you?"  I think until a person truly knows who they are, they are unable to adequately voice how they are.  They do not operate independent of eachother.  I am happy to be middle-aged.  There is no time in my life I would want to go back to again.  Every moment, every age, every lesson learned helped me become not only who I am, but also how I am.

A foggy mind

I haven't written anything for the past couple days because I just didn't have anything positive to say.  I'm really trying to keep this from just turning into my daily bitch and moan session, but I realize not saying something positive isn't particularly a negative.  Sometimes there's just nothing to say.

I continue to struggle through health issues which have been compounded by the crazy foggy weather we've had here the past days.  Painting both bathrooms in one day probably didn't help either.  But it needed done.  (As if painting the bathrooms would be the deciding factor in if someone buys our house.)

I feel like a transient with no real home.  How is that possible?  How can I be here, surrounding by my family and "things", yet feel so out of place?  I once said the only place I feel 100 percent comfortable is at home.  But somewhere along the way that changed.  The fibromyalgia and arthirits combo pretty much ensure I never feel comfortable, physically, ANYwhere.  And the psyche makes it's own demands.  I need somewhere to belong.

This has nothing to do with having friends (I do) or a loving family (I do).  It's about being where I am supposed to be.  Some place where everybody knows my name.  Sorry, the Cheers theme passed through my mind.  Don't get me wrong.  I'm not looking to be famous, praised or leave a physical legacy.  But I do want to touch people.  To make a differnce in their life for the better.  To  help those I come in contact with toknow they are loved, important, respected and have value.

Life is sacred and every human has worth.  I'm not suggesting we just overlook the evil people do, but it's up to God to judge.  I don't know what's going on in another's heart.  That's probably for the best.  The things in mine could, at times, be horrifying to others. 

Rainbow sky

As I driving, I looked up at the sun.  There was a thin ring of clouds surrounding it.  They were just thin enough to allow sunlight to pass through, making it look like mother of pearl.  It was like rainbow light.  That's the second time this week I've seen something like that.  Immediately, I thought about the promise God gave Noah in the rainbow.  But I haven't been able to figure out what promise I'm being promted to remember.

Promises are strange things.  By definition, it portends something yet to come and should be something you can count on happening.  I've found that can change depending on the person, both the promiser and the promisee.  But the point is, I don't put much faith in human promises.  People "forget" or "weren't serious".  I find people use the word promise as a type of manipulation.  It gets the person to do what you want, and you don't really have to follow through.

But the promises I've had from God are true.  There is no need for me to question if he will forget or just change his mind.  He remembers long after I forget.  In the midst of turmoil, pain or selling a freaking house, he whispers "I promised".  That doesn't change the external things going on in my life, but it makes a huge internal shift.

Selling a house

Selling a house is like slowly going insane.  I keep cleaning, people keep looking.  No one's buying.

Back in the spring we decided to put our house on the market.  I have some health issues a and we decided it was a good time to look into single-floor living.  We set about de-cluttering, painting, cleaning, endless cleaning.  Those who know me know how much I loathe cleaning.  And, frankly, I just don't have the energy for it most days.

The house hit the market in July.  We've had lots of lookers, but no takers.  Each day that passes makes me less optimistic.  We've had multiple price reductions and a lot of "comments" from prospective buyers. Some about things we can't really change; some I totally agree with.  That doesn't make things any better.

I was driving home from Lancaster the other afternoon when I was totally overcome with how badly I want to live in Lancaster city, how much I want to be out of this house and through this whole process.  I am ready to being the next phase, whatever that means.  I want to live where I volunteer, to be a part of the community I serve. 

Now don't get me wrong.  I'm not expecting the next phase to be nirvana.  This is all strange to me.  I'm not usually the restless type.  I'm not even sure this is even restlessness.  It's more of just a knowing this chapter is closing and wanting to see what's in the next.

My mind says it all

Did you ever have a conversation in your head?  I do it all the time, and I write the dialogue for all the parties involved.  This helps me process how to handle a situation.  It can also backfire on me and I end up worked into a frenzy.

Did you ever have something happen and at the time you felt it really wasn't a big deal, but as time wore on and you change your mind?  I do this.  And the more I think-- read obsess-- about the situation, the more dire it becomes.  Some event that was truly innocuous can become full-blown treason once it's been through all the conversations in my mind.

I don't know why it's so easy to think the worst of people.  Why have I decided that an innocent action was really driven by some deeper, darker motivation?  I try not to operate that way when I deal with others, so why do I set the standard so low in what I expect from them? I guess I've conditioned myself to "get to the bottom", whether that's based in reality or not.

It drives me crazy when I think people assume I behave like everyone else, yet I am so quick to assume everyone, on some level, is out to get me and so I need to role play in my mind to know why.  My mind is a scary place.  I've long known this.  To try to understand it is crazy in itself.  As I journey to make myself a better person I have to try to understand the mystery that is me.  It's time to hold myself to the same standards I use on others. 

Jealousy

Jealousy is a largely wasted emotion.
I have been the jealous one, and I have been the focus of an other's jealousy.  Both sides have unique issues.  The times I've been jealous have usually been over something quite trivial, and when I look back on it I'm left wondering "what in the world was I thinking?".

As children we are innately jealous.  Someone always has something we want, but don't have.  I always wanted new things.  Being the third of four girls, I wore hand-me-downs.  Money was tight, and that's just how it was.  We ordered our school clothes in the fall from the Sears or Montgomery Ward catalogues.  That was the extent of my designer wardrobe.

What I really wanted was Levi's.  All the girls at school wore Levi's jeans.  But at $40 a pair, they just weren't an option.  I remember saving my money from babysitting so I could go to the store and buy my own Levi's, all the while going to school in my Gitano jeans.  Now, it never occurred to me that Levi's didn't make ladies jeans when I was growing up, or that the girls at school who were wearing them were shaped just like the boys.  I was not.

When I'd finally saved enough money for my prized purchase, I went to a store up on the Ligonier diamond.  After digging through piles of jeans and making countless trips to the dressing room, I found a pair that fit.  It was horrible!  I looked like a barrel.  The jeans were unforgiving, shaped for a person built like a plank of wood.  I had acquired what I was jealous of, but it did not make me happy.

Being the object of some one's jealousy isn't any better.  I've actually never really understood what there is about me to be jealous of.  This has happened twice in my adult life, and both times cause extreme pain for me.  Seems like it should have ended differently since I supposedly had the prize, right?

I had a turbulent friendship with a co-worker.  Perhaps I let it go on too long, but I understood some issues from her past and I really wanted to help her, to be a friend, not not abandon her.  One night she called me, in a fit of rage, and I was clearly able to see just how deep-seeded her jealousy was.  She screamed at me that she "would take the important people in my life away".  I laughed it off, thinking that those who truly loved and befriended me would see through her schemes and stand by me.  She set her plan in motion, and within a year had won over those she was focused on.  Her jealousy of me had messed up my life.  She acquired what I had, but it didn't make her happy.  In fact, she is more miserable now than she was then.

I say we should make our own happiness.  We don't know what is going on in someone else's life, and what it may be taking for them to have/be what you long for.  They say grass is always greener on the other side of the fence.  Maybe it's just getting more fertilizer.

Modeling school

My husband and I were walking at the mall today.  There was a kiosk set up there for the Barbizon Modeling Agency.  Now it would make sense, at least to me, if the people working at the booth were at least pretty.  The three ladies were fairly tall and quite young, but about as remarkable as a penny.

I watched them as we lapped the mall.  Never a smile.  Never a word passed between them.  No attempt to draw people in or interest them in what they were selling.  It made me wonder if they thought no one at the mall was up to the standards of the school.

How quick we are to catergorize people.  Tall or short. Thin or fat.  Pretty or homely. But the truly amazing part is that we use ourselves as the guide.  Are they prettier than me? Am I fatter than her? When did we decide we were "it"?

How boring the world would be if everyone looked exactly the same, had the same interests, wore the same clothes and lived in exactly the same house.  The things that make us unique are the things about us that are different.  Green eyes.  Freckles.  Curvier figure.  Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  To bad our vision isn't better.

Internet dating

Someone asked me what I think about internet dating.  I have no real experience with it myself but it seems to me like another way for people to falsely represent themselves and hurt people.

Dating is hard, in general.  It's awkward and uncomfortable.  You have to make yourself vulnerable, to put yourself out there and  risk rejection.  I think taking the human element out of it, relying on the computer to connect you makes it further complicated.

Humans, by nature, lie.  They want to present themselves as best as possible.  To be more attractive or taller.  To be more successful or established.  To not be a psychopath.  Meeting someone face-to-face lets you know some of these things upfront.

I hate to be misled, deceived and lied to.  How can I know the picture you're showing on your dating profile isn't from 10 years ago when you were thin and had hair?  Or that it's even you at all?  Now, readers, before you go getting all "don't just pick a date based on looks" admit that we all do it.  That's how we're designed.  We are all atracted to beauty.  Fortunately, that translates into many different things for each of us.  Is it right? I don't know.  But it's better than picking based on money or social status.  I think.

That said, be careful. Get to know the person you're engaging on-line.  Ask questions.  Don't fall for a pretty face.  Make sure there's some substance to the person.  You are a quality person; you deserve the same.

Some people's families

I was adopted when I was 10 years old.

The thing about being adopted at that age means I was old enough to remember that I'd had another family.  Most of the memories I had about the paternal side of that family were violent and hurtful.  As an adult, I realized the need for boundaries and I ended contact with them.

Through the wonders of modern technology a long lost relative from that side found me some time ago.  I set up boundaried with her right from the start, and told her the consequences of breaching them.  Sure enough, she did the one thing I asked her not to do; she told them about me and showed them pictures of my kids.  The result?  No more contact.

Imagine my surprise when I found a card in the mail from her today.  It contained a picture of her with her grandkids and a charming letter telling me how "hurt, bitter and troubled" I am.  I used to receive the same kind of greetings from her mother.  It solidified in my mind that I'd made the right choice in unfriending her.  Did she honestly think that writing all those things, then signing it "love always", was going to send me running into her arms?  I honestly don't understand people. 

Why am I considered the bad person for deciding to protect myself and my family from this kind of abuse?  I wish people had a better understanding of how their action affect others.  Just becasue we share some blood does not make us the same, nor does it automatically mean we will mesh.  Being blood does not give you the right to abuse me.  And I don't care what you think about it.

I am beyond grateful for the family that adopted me, that rescued me from the hell  that was once my family.  No family is perfect, but they did their best to love and nurture me, to help me overcome the obstacles my birth family had placed in my life, to heal from abuse and neglect.

I have worked hard to follow nurture, not nature.  Every scar I have, whether physical or emotional, marks a victory to me.  I have overcome.  I have endured.  I am ALIVE.  My story is mine.  So are my choices.  I own them.  No regrets.

I'll take the family who picked me over the one who dumped me anyday.

Friends

I've never been one of those people who's surrounded by friends, and that's fine with me.
I prefer to choose a couple people, thoroughly check their backgrounds and determine their trustworthyness.  Ok, maybe not the best process for establishing lasting relationships, but I'd rather have a few people I know I can count on than be surround by superficial ones who disappear when I need them most.

My husband, on the other hand, thinks everyone who's ever said "hi" to him is his friend.  I've often joked he's like a puppy at the pound, overjoyed by whoever speaks to him.  I really don't understand this behavior.  It seems so foreign to me.  How we ever got together is a true mystery.

A trait we do share, though, is that we see people as people not as a race, class or denomination.  That means we are friends with a varied group.  This is something we have passed on to our children as well.  They are both able to befriend people from different cliques and classes, which has sometimes been problematic for them in that their friends have not been raised the same way.

When did we stop seeing people as people and just determine their worth based on their color, nationality and economic status?  How do these things determine their ability to be a faithful, loving friend?  If we choose only people like us to be friends with, how boring that would be!  I have no friends like me.  That would be a recipe for disaster. 

A new year

Well, today begins 2013 and many people are making resolutions.
I've never been into that.  Frankly, I lack follow-through.  It just seems to take so much work.
I would like to see change, but get overwhelmed with the whole process.  So, I am going to start out simply.

I'm going to write more.  Those of you following me should enjoy that!  I'm not commiting to "what" I'll write, just that I will.  I find it cathartic.  It helps me to process without the messiness of actually involving another person, on a personal level.  Maybe, someday, that will make the list.

I'm going to juice more.  It makes me feel good.  It takes time but I'm worth it.

I'm going to love more deeply.  Or, maybe it's better to say I will let those I love KNOW how much they are loved.  It's not good enough to just asume they know, or to take these relationships for granted.  I don't want to grow complacent and stop making my loved ones feel cherished, important and loved.

And, finally, I'm going to let go.  I have worked long and hard to become who I am, where I am.  While scars show where I have been, they do not determine where I am headed.  So, I am going to see them as links in a chain or stepping stones in a path: merely a means of getting from one place to another.  Not a destination.  I am not meant to stay where I am, to stagnate.  Moving on is not fun and letting go of what is known, even if it's negative, scares the crap out of me but is necessary for a life worth living.

Off I go....