Ready to Welcome 2017

Here it is, New Year's Eve, and I have almost survived another Holiday season!  There were moments I didn't think I'd make it through, but the end is in sight!

I am not a natural extrovert.  People and noise and chaos do not fill me.  Quiet and alone fill me.  My family and my job are huge blessings to me, but it does take a lot from me to get through some of the daily grinds of basic family holiday gatherings and weekly worship services.  And lumped together for weeks and days in a row with little down time, and my inner introvert-ness is crying to be alone for a while.

I look back over all the parties, gatherings, festivities and worship services I've been a part of throughout this season and I can't help but smile at all the wonderful interactions and meaningful things that occurred.  It's been a full and rich season of God's blessing and goodness, and I'm left feeling humble and overly appreciative.

My husband totally rocked it this year and completely blew me away with the gifts and love he showered upon me.  He gave of his time and talent and gave me the gift of a fireplace, custom builtin around it, and installed an entire barnwood wall around it.  Something he created and gave me, within our own home, which we can enjoy as a family and allow me to relax and be filled.

Long ago I resolved to stop making resolutions.  It just sets me up for personal failure and disappointment, and it was always the same things on the list every year.  And then a few years ago, I met a new friend who told me that every year she has a word or theme for that year, and she has encouraged me to listen for mine every year since.

Now I'm looking into the start of another new year, wondering what God all has in store for me and for my family.  I've been thinking and trying to listen to the word or theme God wants me to have for 2017.

2015 my word was TRUST.  2015 was a tough, tough year and we just needed to hang on and TRUST God's plan and timing.   2016 was HEALING.  While 2016 wasn't horrible, it was still a fairly tough year for me, and I felt the overall theme as the months continued, was I just needed to intentionally continue to HEAL ~ physically, mentally, spiritually.

As I mentioned in my previous post, the quiet theme scooting through my mind over and over the past several weeks has been "stop caring & stop sharing" - which I realize is a bit harsh and a bit extreme. I just sense that I need work on not getting so emotionally wrapped up in my own inner drama and to stop sharing about what I tend to get all worked up about.

As I was showering this morning thinking about it all, the word LESS became my clear word for 2017.

In 2017 I want to do less.  I am already very careful about what I take on, agree to, volunteer for, etc - but I still feel like I live at a very hectic pace.  I want to commit to do less, without guilt, so I have time to relax more, read more, scrapbook more, spend time in silence and reflection more.  Less crazy, less chaos, less expectations.

I want to spend less.  I already try to spend as little as possible, but I will be the first to admit we have gotten into a very bad habit of overspending.  No, I'm not going to cut cable and cut my grocery budget in half tomorrow, but I do need to be conscious of what I'm shelling out money for.

I want to have less.  I struggle with "stuff" - all those things we have that fill our house, our lives, our drawers, cupboards, shelves, closets, etc.  I always threaten to go all extreme and get rid of half of the things in our house.  While I don't see that happening, I do hope to consciously lessen all that which isn't "necessary" inside the walls of my home and life.

I want to weigh less.  I am already well on my way to a new and healthier me, but I'm not quite there yet.  I want to not just continue on and reach a healthier weight, but I want to stay living healthier through thee entire twelve months of 2017.  I have a horrible track record of not keeping the weight off, eating well, and exercising consistently once I have met my goal.  Someone I know has set a 1000 mile walk/run goal for 2017.  I love this idea ~ it's honestly very achievable, and I'm fairly certain I will steal her same goal. :-)  I also think 2017 just might be the year I finally decide to tackle running a half marathon.

I want to talk less.  I realize this is a bit of an odd thing maybe, but I know I'm a talker and it's very easy for me to be open about what I'm thinking and feeling.  This isn't a bad thing overall, but often I get sucked into drama and grumpy negativity.  I just want to be conscious of what I'm saying and sharing.  I want to complain less, be less negative in my thoughts and comments, and overall just listen better.

So that's my word and my initial thoughts as I'm getting ready to say farewell to 2016 and warmly greet 2017.  I'm hoping as I start consciously doing and becoming LESS that it will continue to spill into even more areas of my life than the five I specifically listed above.

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The Christmas Goodie Making Mess

I tend to run a tight ship in my kitchen.  My kitchen is not immune to extreme mess by any means, but it's my mess.  And I am fairly controlled and competent with my sprinkles.

Tonight is the yearly "Christmas goodie" making night with my youngest.   I had hoped my teenager and girlfriend would have come home, but there wasn't even a reply to the text inviting them.

We got out the candies, crackers, double broiler and almond barks, turned on the ovens and began all our creations.  And it is crazy hard for me not to micro-manage, to not take over and do it myself, to not nitpick and get a little grumpy, to not expect "perfect".

I hate that about myself.  I long to be able to honestly just sit back, relax, and completely enjoy the moment, no matter what the agenda, no matter what the mess.  But I can't...  whether in my kitchen, in my living room, at my desk at work, even driving in my car.

It's what makes me be my very best, and it makes me my very worst, all at the same time.

This season I have been very aware of the little narrative in my mind telling me to just "not care" and "not share"... I've mentioned this to a few people who have given me the odd look.  It's not "not caring" across the board - it's just not getting emotionally attached to the extreme feelings and thoughts always running out-of-control within me.  I try and not "numb" in life, I try and just "feel and deal" day by day - all there, all in, all the time.  It's an exhausting daily grind most days and I'm pretty sure I am a prime candidate for drug and alcohol abuse as I can totally see why people start - just wanting to dull that extreme inside, hide the hard.  I watch Intervention, and I get it - oh I totally get it.

But I am beyond grateful God has continued to shield me from all that, as I've chosen to just continuing to navigate my life's full reality head on with all 100% of me.  While this might sometimes feel a bit of a curse, I am fully aware of the overwhelming blessing in this.  He is fully present next to me in my mess, holding my hand and just encouraging me to take a deep breath and continue forward.

And with that thought of overwhelming blessing filling my soul and spreading its smile, I look on at the disarray of scattered sprinkles and flour from baseboard to ceiling... and I will choose to leave the mess just a little longer.  I'll resist the urge to meticulously clean up as we go and instead live in the mess of the moment while it lasts, allowing the the carefree joy of my eight year old baker-in-the-making to continue his joyful creativity without the crushing expectation of his mother's "perfection complex."  I will choose to be fully present in his mess and encourage him to continue forward as well.

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Christmas Is Not About Me

Christmas is next week, and I am feeling a bit "bah-humbug" about it all.  A lot bit "bah-humbug" if I'm completely honest.

I am not a fan of Christmas.  Once upon a time I'm sure I was.  I have endless magical memories of Christmas grandeur from my childhood.

And then I grew up, and life turned out being so much harder than I had ever imagined, and every looming year marks another milestone of a wish, hope, dream not yet met... and somehow I've turned into one of those tired people who actually full on dread the holidays.

I'm the one who bakes everything, buys everything, brings everything, juggles everything, wraps everything, orders, stuffs, addresses, seals, mails all the cards, sends and replies to the millions of texts and emails trying to obtain and give the perfect and complete wish lists along with the organization of all the said food and party details of that stated earlier... so that everyone in my family can just put on their coats, get in the car, and "arrive and enjoy" their big day ~ which ends up lasting for an entire week or longer as we bounce from one celebration to the next, and then all needs to be unpacked and put away when we get home.  Throw in blended families on multiple sides, an adopted child, the empty space of a child lost too soon, all topped with a thick layer of the mom-guilt of someone who deep inside honestly knows she's just feeling sorry for herself and really just wants someone in her house to remember to go shopping for something meaningful, thoughtful, and special for her...

And well... yeah, the holidays are just hard.

I honestly have the best of intentions every year to intentionally stay slow... to do less, care less, spend less... and then somehow Halloween passes, the calendar flips to November and the crazy just seems obliviously inevitable.

I've been walking around at war with myself for days about all this, and it finally spilled out all over in the form or tears this morning at work.

I'm tired and not sleeping well, I'm stressed, I'm attempting (and failing miserably) at dieting ~ even through I am diligently doing what I'm supposed to in the eating and exercising avenue... apparently stress, age, and hormones still have the upper hand within my stubborn body.  I'm finding it harder and harder to get up every morning and face the day, poised to make the right health decisions when there is no fruit from my labor.  My stamina and hope is fading quickly....

And now the calendar says that Christmas is next week.  Next week.  My pulse quickens and my emotions rise.  I try and take a deep breath and tell myself to just "not care..."  Take a step back and remove myself emotionally from the reality at hand.  Put up the wall. Remain numb. Sustain survival mode.

But I am one of those Type A, obsessively organized, planner people, and remaining emotionally unattached does not come easy for me.  Hence, I'm walking around all "bah-humbug-y" and have piled on a good 'ol heap of stressed out self-pity.

But Christmas is not about me.  Deep inside, I know this.  It's what eating away at my soul right now.  Christmas is NOT about ME.

Christmas is about grandparents going to the church Christmas Programs.  It's about parents having their children and grandchildren all home under one roof, celebrating together, despite the chaos.  It's about inviting friends and neighbors to worship on Christmas Eve, opening the doors of the church and welcoming one and all.  It's about creating the childhood magic and grandeur for my own children within our home.  It's about seeing the unseen, hearing the unheard, loving the unloved.  It's about breathing deep, honoring tradition, gracefully packing away our life's disappointments for a small season, loving family unconditionally (despite the quirks), and putting others first.

And at the very intimate core of all of this, it's ultimately about the tiny baby born in Bethlehem, who would die on a cross thirty-three years later, in order that I would be able to live and be saved over two-thousand years later.  That is the true magic and wonder of Christmas, the true gift and ultimate giving.  That is the perfect picture of sacrifice, of setting aside self and giving completely.

It's about the giving. It's not about the getting.

My heart is heavy as I think about how this simple fact, this indescribable act, has gotten so commercialized and self personalized, both in my life and in society at large.  It is my prayer that the unattainable expectations and unrealistic hopes of this Christmas do not overshadow the greater sunshine and shining eastern star announcing the arrival of the One who will one day set us free from all our discontent.

May the true message and reality that Christmas is NOT about ME softly settle deep within my self-pity filled soul, and may all our hearts be filled with the magical childlike awe and wonder over the Child of God this Christmas.

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My Words Do Not Matter

I’ve been staring at this blank page for days. So much to say, and yet nothing. So many emotions and feels right now, and yet… nothing.

The nation elected a president last week and we’re having big conversations in our little home made up of multiracial heritages. As if the adoption struggle of grief, loss and attachment at the core family level isn’t hard enough, we now add the confusion of identity and place within a society and a county where our beautifully tan skinned son is a legal citizen of. I’m also caught up battling and sharing about my weight and my treadmill, on a blog dedicated to sharing about the love and loss of a tiny baby who’s eyes only saw Jesus when they first opened.

And I’m left felling like my words do not matter, and my story is irrelevant.

But that’s actually not true. That’s what is being whispered in my ear. But the pulse within my heart beats something entirely different. God gave me this life, this story, this journey for a reason. And I had decided to share that, in hopes to merely love others well, to share my pain, my shortcomings, my losses and my overcoming victories within a realness that gently tells others they are not alone, they are seen, and their story also matters.

Ultimately, I just want my life to somehow paint God’s light into the darkness.

As I have stumbled along in my journey I have dealt with eating disorders, perfection complexes, divorce, miscarriage, blended home, career changes, infertility, adoption, stillborn loss, and more disappointments than I could have imagined. And yet, through all of those rungs on this ladder of my life, the Lord has continued to be the one at the bottom holding it steady against the wall of His goodness. I’m doing the climbing – one foot slowly in front of the other – but He continues to wake me up each morning for a reason and provide me the next rung. I reach one hand as high above as I can, trying to grab on to the “what’s next,” forcing one hand to always have to hang on through the entire season of that current rung. I continue upward on onward, sometimes wishing it would go faster, sometimes wishing to stay put just a little longer. Always willing myself to trust the lesson and blessing of each season, whether it's visible or felt within that moment or not.

One hand always reaching, one hand always clinging to that which supports me.

The change and shift are always occurring. The growth and risk and are always being presented to me. I know my foundation is firm beneath me as I blindly navigate the unknown beyond me, the next season of my continued journey always on its way.

And my words do matter and my story is relevant, and I need to stop letting society or satan or whoever, tell me otherwise.  I was created for a reason, you were created for a reason.  Our lives and our stories are meant to meet and weave and create vibrance and beauty in this tapestry of life.  So live it - and share it - but most importantly, love it well.

Love yourself... love others... love the journey well...

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The Mountain Still Before Me

It's been a while since I've posted.  Partially because I've been busy, mostly because I have been in a overall state of frustration and bitterness, and for me that's not a great place to write from.  So my fingers have remained quiet.

I was eating healthy.  I was exercising.  I was choosing the salad, the fruit, the veggies, the low fat - not just some of the time, not just most of the time, but EVERY single time, every single day.  And when I would weigh in - nothing.  And then I'd even gained.  And I was struck with that frustrated "So why am I doing this then anyway??"  If I'm choosing and doing all the right stuff and it's not making any difference, then why do it??  Eat the damn chocolate and be done with it.

I simmered in frustration and bitterness for quite a while.  I'm still kinda there, if I'm honest.  I quit exercising.  I quit weighing in.  I quit being so careful what I ate.

My friend came over and I told her I'd quit.  She told me she'd joined Weight Watchers. (This is exactly why you need a friend to hold your hand during all this - she isn't going to let me quit.)

Well, I had promised myself that I would not pay money to lose weight (beyond the higher cost of purchasing healthier food at the store).  No gym membership (I own a treadmill for cry'n out loud - just get on it!).  No fad plan membership or special food / pills / shakes / supplements.  No magic pink drink Fridays.  Hey, I'm not saying anything personal against any of those businesses, I just personally do not have the cash in my wallet to be able to even consider it.

My friend has done Weight Watchers in the past.  It's her go-to, it's what she does, and has worked for her before.  I've done "low fat" and I've done Medifast in the past that have worked for me.  The "low fat" was obviously not currently working.  I eyed the dusty box of left over Medifast meals every time I got in my van in the garage.

I went to the chiropractor and started working on the pain in my feet and back and knee.  I got back on the treadmill.  There is no half-marathon in my near future, but there is a continual nudge to want to tackle that bucket list item once-and-for-all.

I finally caved and started the Medifast meals.  I'd forgotten how horrible it all tasted.  I'd forgotten how much I missed dairy and fruit.  I did some online reading on Weight Watchers.  They meet on Wednesday nights - I work on Wednesday nights, and I'm not even sure if they meet in the town I live.  Their membership fees aren't even in my realm of being able to consider.  Their points system intrigued me though.  Something different, but possibly something doable.  It looked complexly easy.

So here's where I currently stand.  I'm using up my old Medifast meals (from four years ago) and I've ordered a set of basic PointsPlus Weight Watchers books off eBay that have a basic list all the foods and points.  When they arrive, I will take a closer look and perhaps give it a try (on my own, not via a full membership... I'm not sure if that's something a person is supposed to publicly admit to or not, but I just did ~ please don't hunt me down Weight Watchers police!)

In the meantime, I did force myself to weigh today.  By gosh by golly, I was down 2.4 pounds.  I'm still frustrated, I'm not pleased with how I'm doing or how it's going, and I'm discouraged. But even the smallest of negative number is better than a plus number on that scale.

Today's small victory in the face of the mountain still before me.

{ next weight journey update HERE }

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Another nine day update

Nine day update…

Well, this update crept up on me really fast. Today I can at least report that since my last update, I have finally pretty much jumped in with both feet.

I received a message from a dear friend and fellow blog follower asking if I’d like to journey with her, weigh in with her, set some goals together, help hold each other accountable. With grateful tears I said “you bet - let’s do this!"

I got myself on the scale the next morning. I knew it wasn’t going to be good. Thirty-one pounds. I have gained thirty-one pounds since shortly after losing Faith. Granted, I was at my thinnest at that point and not well, but thirty-one pounds is still a significant amount of weight. Yeah, I’m one of those who has been “blessed” to not have any stretch marks on my stomach from pregnancy, but I sure have them on my thighs from excessive and roller coaster weight gain.

The shame umbrella hanging over me is massive right now. It’s shading my sunshine and blocking my view. I've allowed it to hide most of my more shining qualities.

My friend and I set an initial small goal and date. I set a secondary slightly longer term goal and date. I’m not sure if the second is achievable or not. It’s nothing excessive by any means, but I know myself and I’m not sure if it’s going to be achievable or not. And no, I do not plan to re-lose all thirty-one pounds. I would honestly be ecstatic at this point to simply meet in the middle with fifteen pounds. Fifteen pounds is a great compromise that will at least get me back into the jeans hanging in my closet, well hopefully anyway!

I also decided that I needed to choose some sort of diet-ish type plan. There’s so many to pick from, but I decided to just stick with what I know. Low fat. It’s kind of what I’ve always done in the past, and for the most part still allows me quite a bit of the food that is easy and that I like (and most importantly I don't have to sign up and order anything). Yes, I realize cereals and breads and fruits and veggies contains lots of carbs and other things many diets scream against, but it’s what I’m going to do - basically because it’s what I know and what I can fairly easily follow.

I have continued to get up and exercise for 30 minutes every morning. Basic, boring walking.  And most days, even that is really hard to get done. Shame has me believing it’s a waste because I’m not running, and I’m having a hard time coming to grips with the reality that I probably will not run again. I will not race train, I will not ever have the stamina or ability to 10K and I will never probably get to cross a half marathon off my bucket list.  Deep inside I do know this is ok, even though it really isn't.

I'm already starting to get a little obsess-ish, which is not what I want.  I think about how to get out of eating socially, how to get by eating a bowl of cereal vs the entire full meal I'm needing to serve my family, how I'm going to get in my daily exercise and keep my daily fat gram intake under 25 grams if I go ahead with social obligations I've already scheduled.  I have either stellar rockstar diet days, or I have complete epic failure diet days.  There's no medium ground for me - I'm either all in or all out.  I make one poor choice, I let myself have one little indulgence, and then those feelings of shame and failure kick in and rather than stop after a few bites, I just crash and burn and eat it all (and then some).  Always knowing regret will immediately move on in...

Like always, I just want to hurry the whole thing along, to stay in super control long enough to lose the desired weight and then just work on trying to maintain.  After 30 years you would think I would learn this is not how it works, but apparently old habits die hard.

I am trying to continue on every day, trying to eat more healthy and move around a little bit more.  I am a little edgy and borderline irritable.  I hate having thoughts of food and exercise continually creep in my mind and conversations.  I just want to turn down the volume and quit, and I've only barely gotten started.

I weighed in today and I have lost a few pounds.  Huge success, yes.  And oddly enough I'm already nervous that the next time I will have already gained it all back, because all of this is just really really hard.  Baby steps I guess... getting started steps I guess... but hey - I'm doing it steps!  And this time I'm not alone... In fact, I just got a text of encouragement from my friend - she's counting on me to keep a goin' with her on this journey!

{ next update HERE }

Emotional Triggers

This morning I had a mammogram. Tomorrow is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day.  To say I've had an onslaught of underlying emotions is an understatement.

I was supposed to have my mammogram already back in February.  I was in no way emotionally able to walk back in that room, exactly one year after our Journey to Faith began there that day.

At first I just ignored the email and mail notifications stating I was due, and then overdue, for my yearly mammogram.  Finally in June I called to scheduled the appointment, but I told them I needed an appointment in October...  after camping season was over for the summer.

You see, I'm also a planner.  While I knew I emotionally couldn't handle repeating this appointment again in February, I also did not want to lose a summer at the lake to surgery, chemo, and sickness if something were to be found on my mammogram.  And I know I will live with an insane guilt over waiting if something were to be found after extending the time in which I knew I should have had it done. I wish I was ~haha~ joking, but it's the honest truth in how I think and process.   Avoidance and denial.   They are two of my top coping mechanisms.

I've never talked about it, but I also carry a great fear of cancer, especially breast cancer.  I lost an aunt at 39, a cousin at 33, my sister-in-law was diagnosed at 29, and I have friends who have lost their precious mamas. In my mind I've basically just lived with the fear of "when will it be me?"  Interestingly enough, way back in February 2014 I also had started the process of setting appointments for genetic testing, and was very open to the option of having a preventative mastectomy.  Needless to say, that was all stopped the moment I walked from the mammogram room to the ultrasound room and heard the words "Oh... there's a baby in there..."

Those words led to a long and painful journey of great loss and devastation for our family, and nothing more was ever said about that initial cancer screening since.  We are approximately 20 months out from that initial life altering moment, and while we are not all the way picked back up and put all back together... we are diligently working on living one more day, one more day at a time.

It's times like these that trigger all those memories and emotions all over again, and by the time I crawled in bed last night I had all sorts of crazy feels going on and all sorts of fabricated stories woven in my head of multiple scenarios of hypothetical outcomes based on the finding and results of my mammogram today, and all sorts of flashbacks and memories of the life and loss of our little Faith.

Why do we do this to ourselves??  I mean seriously - why do we let our minds take over and rob us of so many sane, calm, restful, and rational thoughts each and every day??  I once again could not reign in the chaos of my mind's overactivity, and my basic sanity paid the price and took the lofty toll.

I did finally sleep, and I did get myself to the hospital, checked in, and allowed myself to be led back to that same little waiting room.  I instantly remembered the things I was thinking about as I waited that day, I remembered the book I was reading, I remember what part in the book I was reading...  I remember the fear of my mammogram results and the heavy dread of ultrasound results within me, never once wondering if all the sickness I was experiencing could have been caused by pregnancy.  I was mourning the reality of possibly talking hysterectomy... And within an hour from the moment I entered that waiting room, our world would be turned upside down.

I fought back tears and choked down fear throughout the appointment today.  I answered all the questions and I survived the procedures to get the six images they needed for medical review.  And then I walked out and went home to wait for the results, my legs heavy with the past depth and sadness they now carried along.

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