The Gift We Were Given Five Years Ago

The world is in some strange, desperate, and scary times right now.

Much of the world is holed up in their homes as a pandemic virus spreads rampant from one continent to the next. It’s all that’s on the news, in the headlines, in our social media feeds, in our minds.

Many are working from home, attempting to school their kiddos from home, rationing their toilet paper and hand sanitizer and figuring out their “new normals,” whatever in the world that might be. Some have lost their jobs or are simply unable to go in to work right now. The economy is in absolute upheaval, and no one is quite sure what updates and changes will be coming to us as each hour and day passes.

Two and a half weeks ago my hubby and I made a last minute decision to head out of town for the weekend. We went many of the same places we went to five years prior; the drive, the hunting show, the covered bridge… And it was surreal to me how that five years felt like an odd mix of nearly a lifetime ago, and nearly yesterday, all at the same time.

Five years ago right now I was pregnant with a little girl, who we would find out had Trisomy 18 and would never get to come home with us. I’m sure this is devastating news for any parent… but at the age of forty, with nearly two decades of infertility behind me… I was beyond devastated with this unexpected “gift” God chose to “bless” us with.

Five years ago I was sick, really sick. I was basically on bed rest, living in a nightmare in which only a very very small handful of people were even aware of. How in the world do you tell the world that you are pregnant, at the age of 40, with a baby you knew from the very beginning was not actually going to become a living, breathing, addition to your lives and your family? Well I couldn’t, and we didn’t… we staggered and stumbled and blindly attempted to pull each other along during those hours, days, and months.

Five years ago I was in my house, not leaving unless absolutely required. Oddly similar to present day. Five years ago I was living in fear, uncertainty, desperation, depression, uncontrollable crazy. Again, oddly similar to present day.

And I’m not sure if that is making living and surviving within this current crisis easier, or harder.

The part of me that is getting sucked back into those hard and vivid memories are finding these days at home, away from others, listening to the crazy in my head, perhaps even more hard to continue to battle forward through. At times it’s all just almost too much for me, the overwhelm almost debilitating. But… there is also the part of me that remembers and actually feels God’s provision and strength and faithfulness through all of that five years ago, and that brings me some moments of comfort and peace.

I don’t know about everyone else, but I know right now I am on one hell of a rollercoaster ride. A ride that is barreling out of control and ricocheting off the four walls of this home I am imprisoned in.

Actually, I have to take that back, I do not feel at all imprisoned here. I am a very happy introvert that is more than ok with not having to leave my house. Granted this is not something I was expecting, and not something I’m at all in control of, but overall I am not overly bothered that I have basically not left my house for two weeks. I am however struggling with adding homeschooling on to my full time job, but… I am choosing to try see the blessing in it, choosing to do the best that I can in the unexpected gift of time we have all been handed right now.

And here I am… on the eve of that “day” yet once again … that day when everything stopped for just a few minutes. That day when everything fell apart, when all the stars did not align. That day when Heaven’s tears rained down and hell's gates seemed to swallow me whole.

That day when part of me died, but that day when the Lord also graciously allowed me to live.

I know we were given this journey for a reason. I know, for whatever reason, Faith MaryJo’s life was given to her only to be left as her legacy. And I know, that no matter how hard, or how sad, or how crappy it can all be some days… that this journey is honestly a gift, just not the gift we are used to getting all tied up with frilly bows and sparkly wrapping paper.

Over the passing of the last five years, I have come to know that this is the true kind of gift that was given for the sole purpose to keep on giving. This is the kind of gift that really isn’t a celebration, a party, a magical moment forever etched in time, but it is the gift that allows a very hard story to be told, to be shared, to also be forever etched in time, just like the name and date that is etched into her black granite tombstone on the other end of town.

It’s the gift that has allowed me to be able to see differently, feel differently, act differently, love differently. It has given me the eyes and heart to see and feel and know the need of the importance of entering in and walking alongside others, of allowing others to enter in and walk alongside me… of offering help and of receiving help.

And yes, as awesome and positive as all of this sounds, and in reality it “is”… this gift is also the membership to a club that I never asked to join. This was not my choice, this was not in my control, this was not the path I wanted my life to have to travel down. We can say all the right things, and put ourselves all back together on the outside, but of course the inner reality is…

It’s hard… it’s really, really hard.

And yet, for whatever reason, it is, in fact, the card we have been given, the path we were meant to journey. And if you believe in a Big God, in a Big Heaven, then at some point (or at least on most days) you have to attempt to give up the fight and simply open your hands and try openly give of the "blessings" from that which was taken away from you.

Granted some days are much easier than others. Some seasons and months are just harder than others. March is hard for me during a normal year, and especially hard this year. But here we are… time has continued to tick and tomorrow we will wake and we will both celebrate and grieve the birth day of our daughter, Faith MaryJo.

There will be smiles, there will be tears. There will be grief, there will be reflection, and there might be a few miles run in her memory (and maybe even be a little cake served in her honor). It will again be just us tomorrow, just our tiny little family, in this tiny little house, on this big big journey together. 

{ Previous Post What Day of the Week Is It? HERE }

What Day of the Week Is It?

I’ve been an introvert walking around in a bit of a daze this past week, processing all of this, all of the things, dipping between really low lows and, rising again to somewhat higher levels of “normalcy” while dealing with the moment-by-moment doses of fear and frustration, disappointment and distress, calmness and angst.

It seems there is just so much extreme going on inside me. It’s far to the left, or far to the right, and the going back and forth between the two is like riding on those rides, or going over those intersections when your stomach falls out because the drip or lift is faster than the body can reasonably absorb.

Back and forth. Up and down. Absolutely all over the place.

I, a very happy introvert, personally have no problems what-so-ever not leaving my house. I do however have mixed emotions over the hubs who is still going out and working every day. On one side I’m so grateful he’s still able to work, able to provide income and stability amid these financial fears, but he is still going out, and I feel he does not take the brevity of this seriously enough. He is a two-man, self-employed construction company, so I believe he is able to work with under ten people, but he seems a little unaware as to what is going on inside this house while he’s gone, and entirely oblivious to the overall global situation. I admit I am feeling unseen, unappreciated, and becoming bitter for what I feel I am all doing right now inside the walls of this house. Granted this is probably simply all my own issues inside my own selfish mind, but it is the truth for me in what I am feeling, especially as I feel I am almost ridiculed when asking him to simply wash his hands good when he returns from work at the end of the day. There hasn’t been a thank you, an acknowledgment to what I am all attempting to do and keep afloat right now. I’m working full time, trying to still get all the bills paid, all the life details covered, add on homeschooling and intentionally trying to be what everyone needs from me right now. I’m drowning with all the things, all the unknowns, all the overloads, all the stresses… without a thank you, without a how are you doing, without a what can I do to help.  Now of course on the flip side, I'm sure there's the same argument from him that I'm also not seeing him, thanking him, helping him during his time of stress either.  As they say, these are those moments that make us or break us, and I know I need to somehow figure out how to get past it all.  I'm fairly certain we are not the only couple in this situation right now.

But I have friends who are required to still go into work at their hospital and production jobs, who are fully dependent on their incomes, who don’t have a work from home option, who can continue working only as long as they are not exposed and need to self quarantine. I have friends who are high risk and cannot risk getting sick.  We have all of us at home staying in, trying to not spread anything more, and we have those who must go out, who are desperately needing us to stay home as to not spread and infect. 

I have friends in healthcare, on the front lines, wishing to be home with their families but aren’t able to, because they are needed to stay to help care for the sick, and prepare for the masses still to come.

I have a brother who is a chiropractor in KY and was forced by the state to close his practice yesterday by 5:00pm. Their income, their patients… all suddenly just cut off.

And yet… as I scroll through social media, as I look out my window to the road and all the passing cars, I see so many are still out and about, still shopping, still eating out, still socializing. Personally, I just don’t get it. Our single job as a country right now is basically to stay home and watch TV - and by God, we can’t even get that right.

Yesterday I was thinking about to how I used to be a full time cake decorator from home, and this season we’re going into was always huge for me, my whole year would hinge on the extra income and hours I would put in during Easter, Mother’s Day, graduation, and spring and summer weddings. While there are days I do miss being my own boss, I find myself just breathing in a huge breath of gratefulness as I reflected on it. Times are scary right now, futures unknown, and I know this would have been unbelievably hard on my business and our tight income. I’m grateful for that whisper from God to apply for the church job seven years ago and slowly transition back into the work world, and then grateful again for that whisper two years ago to apply for the art admin job I’m currently in. I am grateful to myself for finally allowing myself to hear, to actually listen, and daring to step forward obediently when I heard those whispers along the way of my career journey. God was paving this path for me long ago, He simply was asking me to listen and faithfully obey.

And that church job … yeah, I don’t know how many times I have breathed the thoughts of how grateful I am that I am not working at the church right now. Oh yes, I loved my time there and have no doubt it was exactly where I was supposed to be at the exact time that God had me there, but boy am I also grateful that there was another whisper allowing me to move on to my current job, even if it does leave me as low man on the totem pole and ultimately the first one that will be let go if it comes to that.  I have peace right now knowing I am where I am supposed to be, whatever may happen.

I am so grateful for Staples and the way they are allowing us to work from home and be with our families and supporting us fully right now. Although, like everything else, this is a two sided emotion as well. One side of our business can’t keep up as they try to supply and fulfill much needed orders for medical supplies, hand sanitizers, paper products to both the general population and more importantly, to those on the front lines in dire need of the product. On the flip side is my side of the business, the promotional side that provides product for companies for their large events, events that are now being canceled, and product coming from oversees to be decorated that are not arriving in time to meet the in hands dates of those orders that haven’t been canceled, and now asking our production facilities to continue to go in to work during these times the rest of the world is all being asked to stay home.

I've thinking about my running and working out, also two extremes within me right now. I had a great workout routine and rocked through February with twenty-nine days of perfect nutrition, water and workouts. And then came March with a birthday, an anniversary, followed immediately by all of this and #lawdhavemercy I am an emotional eating mess right now. Thank the Lord that food is my addition and not anything else. While I’m disappointed and frustrated with myself right now, I am also beyond grateful to be part of a great tribe of online #wonderwomen who are for sure digging in deep together right now. We’re all struggling to find our footing, find our mindsets, find our direction. I love and appreciate their honesty, support, and encouragement right now. I am so grateful for the home workouts I can continue without any worry of public gyms with their people and closings.

While I’m all about a great virtual race and do a lot of them, there is something about signing up and planning to join thousands of others, corralled shoulder to shoulder at a starting line and running within the masses for miles and miles in the fresh air outside at a large in-person race. The virtual race options in my emails have tripled over the last week, while three large races I was signed up for this spring have already canceled, and I’m expecting at least two more will also cancel. So I message my friends who were going along, call the hotels, and the massage places, and with tears I am canceling our reservations for those weekends. I feel horrible having to call and cancel, knowing they are hurting so much from this as well. The large chain hotels sitting empty, the small massage businesses also sitting empty - everyones full schedules suddenly sitting wide open. The tears are maybe a little from my own disappointment, but mostly just in utter dismay at the overall hit all of this is taking on the economy.

I have always loved and been grateful for the gym I have built over the years in my basement. I am one who really does like to treadmill and workout inside over the winter, but now without any spring outdoor races forcing me back outside, driving me to beat my feet back on the concrete, back out in the cold wind, I find I’m torn between wanting to just continue forward getting up every morning and going on with my training and working out as I have been… with the other side of me thinking, what the hell do I need to get up early for - everything is getting canceled, no on cares, no one is going to see me for another month… stay in bed, numb your fear and disappointment with sleep and social media scrolling.  Make the bars and cookies and high carb deliciousnesses, and then eat it all, who the F cares. Who the F even cares.

We live with a high needs eleven year old who is amazing and great, but one that we have struggled with since day one. I know we aren’t supposed to actually admit these things out loud, but it’s the truth. We’ve dealt with a lot over the last eleven years, grief and loss, reactive attachment, ADHD, physical (but invisible to the eye) brain damage, meds, doctors, specialists, eating issues, therapy, testing, anger, rage, school issues, behavior issues, etc, etc. The thought of being home 24/7 for four straight weeks is a definite stress point within me, I cannot lie.

And yet, week one was very surprising to me. The child who spats “you’re the worst mom ever” nearly every day, has not ventured farther than about three feet from me all week, by his choice, not mine. I know the stakes are super high right now, and I have done everything possible to do this “right.” I of course realize there is no “right or wrong” - there is only “right now” in this present moment. There is only what “right thing” do I need to do for him “right now”.

He has been a trooper and doing great so far. He has stuck close by and I have made sure to support and listen and encourage and remain positive. Not sugar coat, but also not get sucked into the gloom and doom either, which has been hard. I know I need to be more intentional than ever, I know I need to think ahead, stay a step ahead, now more than ever. I know I need to roll with whatever comes my way - I need to stay calm, cool, collected, supportive, positive, happy, fully engaged. I need to be the mom who’s safe, the friend who’s fun, the solid rock standing strong amid this storm of life raging all around. I realize this whole honeymoon phase will probably end, but until then, I am simply beyond grateful for this time together.

The social media world is out of control right now. I’m not sure how long to be on, how long to be off, how much to share, how much to not share. Do I keep posting my Today’s Mug selfies … my workout / running #gettnRdone selfies, my “working hard” and “momming hard” selfies… Will I post too much, too little, and who even cares on a normal day, let alone now?!?!

Overall this first week I have tried to limit my time scrolling, I know I’m still online more than I should be (and Lord knows need to be), but when my heart starts racing in my chest, when my mind starts zooming around here and there and everywhere, when the comments and posts are getting too out of hand, too negative, too frightening, I know I need to shut it down and walk away. Do my work, pour into my kiddo, check the state of my own soul. I have turned my phone ringer off when I’m not logged in for work. I pick it up regularly and check messages, but I’m not allowing myself to hear every social media comment, and like, and interaction. I’m not listening for every text and email filling my inbox, at least not until it’s a time of my choosing. For now I am still getting up early and working out.  I am still doing my hair and makeup, putting on regular work / weekend clothes and of course earrings.  I didn't watch any tv before, and haven't given in to starting to now. Again, I realize this whole honeymoon phase may come to an abrupt end, and even the happiest of introverts might still reach her breaking point of sanity.

So, basically, yup, I’m a hot mess. Story of my ever lovin' life. But hey, we all are a hot mess right now. I’m fully caught in the middle of this immensely swinging pendulum of craziness and world terror. I’m personally more than fine being home all day every day, and yet the added responsibilities and currently reality is also almost more than I can bare. Watching my son close his school laptop after a zoom call with his teacher and class as starting to cry because he misses school and his friends, is ripping my heart in half.  I’m a mix of completely calm, just in my element and completely settling in, and that of a runaway freight train inside my mind. The emotions mixed between all that I’m doing and dealing with inside the four walls of my own house, with my own family, and that of the rest of the world, many whom are choosing not to follow the current social distancing requests by the government, is just one big rollercoaster of allover emotions, thoughts, and feelings.

I’m not personally afraid of getting sick. I’m relatively healthy right now and that doesn’t overly worry me. But, I do not want to have any part of spreading it to anyone else, especially the elderly, the sick, the littles, the entire healthcare profession, all those dependent on getting to go to their jobs and not having to end up self quarantine because someones daughters friend that was at your house for supper twelve days ago has a mother who has now been tested positive.

Yeah, all the memes are funny, and so many are so true… but right now I just really want to do this right. I want to do my part in not spreading the physical illness of this pandemic, but I also want to do my part in not spreading the mental negativity, panic, and hatred that is also such a huge part of this pandemic.

I want to take this time at home and love my family well, love myself well, figure out how to make these moments now be positive and healthy memories in the future. As someone said that I loved - in seven years from now when facebook memories pops up with some of these photos and posts we are all currently posting, what kind of memories and feelings is that going to bring back for you? I don’t want to scar my children, my family, my friends, my society with a negative outlook and lack of willingness to do the right thing by staying isolated even when it’s not ideal, and in reality, really hard.

I want this to somehow make me stronger, make my family stronger, make my faith stronger, make all my relationships stronger than what they were last week when I was still ignorantly taking life for granted.

Five years ago right now I was sick, pregnant, on bedrest, and had no idea what the next day was going to bring me.  I was carrying a daughter who had Trisomy 18 and would die before we would ever get to bring her home. My life was a mess, everything was so hard to process, and the future was beyond unknown. I was scared to death I was going to die during childbirth (as I almost had sixteen years early during a miscarriage hemorrhage) and I had no idea how to plan anything going forward because it was all just … unknown. It’s been hard for me living through the months of November through March every year since as I go back in time and remember all of those emotions, those fears, that sadness.

And yet here I am back in my house, filled with so many fears and unknowns and no way of knowing what to think or plan for the days and months ahead of us. Part of me finds utter peace and calmness now as I think back and know that God was there all along for us five years ago, knowing He will be there again now, without a doubt. But I think it also compounds my memories and aches and deep heartache even more this year as our current reality is again mirroring, in a way, all that we walked through five years ago.

Next week Friday will be the five year anniversary of the birth date of our dear Faith MaryJo. I had asked to work from home that day (as I had last year) as the thought of having to “people” was overwhelming to me… and I guess that request has been more than granted. I will get to go through all of the next few weeks without having to “people.” I know it’s going to be a lot to process and go through again, but I am grateful that I do carry the insight of the “afterwards” as well to help remind me of God's faithfulness, His goodness amid the sorrow, and His hope amid the calamity.

How do we find the needed grace for ourselves, for our families, for our jobs, for our society all around us amid the also needed stamina to continue forwards boldly and strongly in this time of unknown and fear? How do we stay home, stay strong, stay committed to all the things, while also giving away the control of many more things than we ever thought we’d have to?  How do we get the message across the importance for everyone to follow the social distancing request we are all in right now? 

We need to stay home, be smart, and love others well in this time of upheaval. The sooner everyone starts to comply, the sooner hopefully all of this will be over. For the ones sitting in our homes doing all the things, it’s getting a little hard, a little emotional, a little frustrating watching all of those who aren’t.

Don’t spread the hate, don’t shout the gloom and doom, and don’t hoard all the groceries and necessities.  Share, share, share and simply trust God’s provision, and believe in the goodness of others who will share with you if Heaven forbid we do run out of something we “need.”

Please … stop going out if you absolutely do not need to. Whether you think this is all just silly and stupid or whatever, just suck it up and do it. Honor and respect all of us who are following the requests and guidelines, do your part in helping lower the curve of spreading this physical and mental illness. Think beyond yourselves and think about the elderly, the young, the pregnant, the immune compromised, the ones that are due to get much more sick and possibly die if they were to catch this virus. Just because you’re healthy and not worried about getting sick, this isn’t really about you right now.

And yes, I realize staying home doesn’t mean going out to eat or going shopping, and trying not to be hypocritical here, please, if at all possible try find a way to also help support your local small businesses that are trying to offer alternate ways to still safely provide their food and their product and their services to you.

This is the current reality for all of us. All of us.
Let me repeat one more time… all of us.

Take full advantage of this "as such a time as this" moment that we will hopefully never ever have to be granted again.

Please choose to love well, so we can all live long.

Previous Blog Post { Heartbeats and Heaviness} HERE

Heartbeats and Heaviness

It’s been another season of babies around me. So many announcements. So many births.  So many bellies. And… so many dealing with the loss of their little miracles. I thought I had been doing ok. I thought I had my wall built up high and strong. I thought I had my chin set firm and my smile painted on with an extra sparkle.

I think I thought wrong.

Last week was the five year mark of that blessed horrific day when I first saw her little body, first heard and saw that miraculous heartbeat flashing up on that dark screen. The utter shock, the total awe. The emotional rollercoaster ride of our Journey to Faith officially left the gates in that moment. We were barely strapped in, surely not prepared for the hardest, scariest, longest ride of our lives that we have been forced to go through.

Every time I think the ride is finally maybe slowing down, maybe going to actually stop long enough to let us disembark… it just veers us hard to the left, and that safe, solid, quiet platform again becomes a blur in the far off distance. Back to the twists and turns and a few more ups and downs.

Five years ago right now I was carrying life within me. Life filled with sickness, life filled with imperfection, but a life with her own beautiful heartbeat. A heartbeat I had been waiting for nearly two decades to hear. A heartbeat that I would be devastated to no longer hear only a few short months later.

During this “month of love” I’m supposed to be working on intentionally “loving myself” better. Love my body, love my mind, love my talents, love my gifts, love my blessings “better”. You know – love this body that has refused to look the way I’ve wanted it to my entire life, the body that has denied creating life for so many years, the body that has created and then had the audacity to take back not once, but twice. I’ve spent nearly my entire life unhappy, angry, intentionally (and unintentionally) trying to punish this body for all that it never was, all it never gave me, all it took from me, all it refused to become.

This is the view and reality I’ve just carried within me all my life. Why it’s so hard to accept who I am for “who I am” is really beyond me. Why is it so hard to just look at all the good, all the positives, all the greatness and gifts I have been given, and simply accept it with a confident, content smile? God created me for me, on purpose, no one else with my same footprint anywhere else. The humbling reality I’ve been stumbling over and over again recently … these thoughts and perceived realities of mine are probably breaking God’s heart. Which only compounds the guilt, the confusion, the anxiety of it all. (Yea I know, another blog, another time. wink)

This morning my body was weary, my heart heavy and hurting, my mind at war with itself to just get up and keep moving forward, one foot at a time, one moment at a time… I went through the morning motions. The alarm clock, the miles and muscles, the shower, the getting ready, the brushing my teeth, the putting on of my jewelry…

As I pulled out a bracelet to wear, one I wear multiple times a week (“Run the Mile You’re In” in little square letter beads surrounded by decorative black and gold round beads), it caught on another bracelet, and then another as I pulled up.

I was left looking down at this tiny little baby bracelet resting at the very bottom. Another little bracelet with white letter beads and a few round decorative beads.

The beads were light blue and the letters spelled Bailey Goebel. The baby bracelet from the hospital that was strung and put on his newborn wrist nearly twenty-three years ago at the hospital. The only baby bracelet I have.

Twelve years ago this week we got the call from the adoption agency that we had been chosen by a birthmom. Twelve years ago right now his little heartbeat was strong and growing inside the womb of another woman. I would take her baby home, she would take his hospital bracelet home.

Five years ago Faith’s little heartbeat was weak, and her sickness causing sickness within my body. We would never get to take her home, nor did they give us a hospital bracelet for us to take home.

But as I slowly reached down and touched that little bracelet, I was struck with the memory that twenty-three years ago there had another little heartbeat strong and growing inside me. The heartbeat of my firstborn son, who now stands six feet five inches tall and has been growing into one of the most amazing, gracious, giving, loving men I know. There are many days I feel I hardly deserve to have him get to call me “mom” but boy I sure do love that he does!

Gosh, twenty-three years ago… it was a lifetime ago, a whole different world ago. A different marriage, a different husband, a different house, a different set of family and in-laws, and an entirely different decade in my own state of intelligence, processing, worldly knowledge, and reality. I had no idea the road that was ahead of me, I had no idea that I should have relished those blessed days so much more than I did.

I was young, naïve, and so sure of a future I could control.

But I am not in control, #lawdhavemercy no. All of it, none of it… out of my control. It’s been a hard pill to swallow.

I remained still, possibly even holding my breath, as I held that precious little bracelet in my hand this morning, and I could feel the sting of tears in my eyes, I could feel the tightening in my throat, nearly burning me. I felt the hot, fat tears start to fall down my cheeks, settling in under my chin. I first brushed them away in annoyed angst, but they just continued to pool, and soon I found myself sliding down the cool vanity, my hand clutching those precious little beads, my head resting on the hands that were resting on my bent knees.

I cried for all I currently have, all I’ve lost, all I’ve wanted, all I’ve messed up, all I’ve done right. I cried for all my babies heartbeats and the stories and journeys of each one of them. Two heartbeats still beating strong here on earth beside me, two heartbeats inside their heavenly angel bodies.

I cried for the heartbeat created in a different marriage that would endure through a divorce and split family journey. I cried for the heartbeat that was handed to me that wasn’t even mine, that same heartbeat that went home with me but not with her, a whole other kind of grief and loss we have all gone through on our adoption journey. I cried for the lost futures, the many what ifs and never-got-to-be’s for those heartbeats that stopped too soon due to a miscarriage twenty-one years ago and a stillbirth five years ago.

I cried for this one bracelet I have, and for the three bracelets I never got. All the emotions are so big, so robust, so hard again right now. The joys, the regrets, the pride, the devastation. The mix of celebration over all these new lives coming into this world, amid the utter grief alongside all those who have also said their goodbyes to their babies far too soon.

Some days I can weather it all well, some days it’s nearly too much.  Today, it's all nearly too much.

Today I am tired. I am bitter. I am sad. My eyes are burning. My heart is aching. My emotions are all over the place. Basically, I’m my typical #hotmessexpress. Tiz the season I guess. In the past I have dubbed this season as "My Ugly."  It’s been a while since I've tripped and fallen hard, so I’m not all that surprised all the emotions have come again to pay me a visit and stay for a while.

Today, I allow my guard down and let this oh too familiar ache fill me and let the tears again fall. Today, I succumb to this complexity of emotions I can’t quite seem to stay ahead of or keep in check. Today, I feel all the feels and whisper that "It's ok to not be ok" mantra over and over again, willing myself to believe, willing myself to fully feel, fully accept, fully live in this pain in the right here and right now, in hopes that the sooner it's out the sooner this little visiter will decide to quietly slip away again in the quiet of the night.

But until that new dawn again begins to rise, I will not apologize, I will not numb, I will not wish it away.  I will sit with it, learn from it, live from within it, and hopefully love ever greater because of it.

Previous blog { Keep the Focus in 2020 } HERE

Next blog post { What Day of the Week Is It } HERE

Keep the Focus in 2020

The last three years I have taken the time to ponder and come up with a word, or theme, for the new year I'm entering into.  What I hope to intentionally focus and work on over the following 365 days.

** 2017 - Less
** 2018 - Contentment
** 2019 - Just Be

As I went back and re-read all of these, I realized that I am like so many, starting the year out with great intentions, and then kind of losing steam, losing focus as the days, weeks, month, continue to pass by.

I'm not saying that I failed each year miserably, but I think I could have done a better job staying on task and forward moving with each theme every year.  I could have spent more time throughout the middle of year going back to those words / themes and doing a better job keeping them front and center in my day to day living.

A few of my friends have started talking about their quest to find their 2020 word, some already have it and some are still marinating on it.  As much as I hate to admit it, I have to say that the majority of my "ahh-haa" moments have come to me in our bathroom.  I'm not sure why, but I think it's just a place where I have my guard down, the crazy of my brain either hasn't quite started full gear for the day, I'm physically and mentally exhausted as I finish up some workout, or it's the end of the day and my brain has checked out for the day.  And interestingly enough, it seems in those moments are the times I can most clearly hear the whispers from within, the ethereal presence of God at work.

So it's to no surprise that after spending some time wondering what I'm needing to focus on this year, I found myself the other morning in the bathroom, finishing getting ready, and picking up my glasses from the counter to put them on.

And I looked down at them in my hands, and the image and thought span latched on to the 20/20 vision conotation.  We all can see our best when our eyes are at a perfect focus of 20/20 vision.  And just like that I heard the words...

Keep the focus in 2020.
Find the focus. Get focused.  Stay focused. Keep the focus.

And well, that was that.  It is actually quite perfect for the current state I'm stumbling around in.

I've spent much of my life lost... Lost and looking.  Lost and seeking.  Lost and trying to find myself. I'm also in this really hard phase of "maintaining" in my health and dieting and nutrition right now, all of 2019 actually.  All my life I've been the one who's on either extreme of the pendulum.  Either way to the right (heavy) or way to the left (not heavy).  I am very very bad at anything in-between.  I can gain, and I can lose - but that maintaining thing ... ohhhhhh, yeah that's hard for me.

It's been three years since I started my health and wellness journey, trying to heal inside and out and rewiring how my brain and body functioned.  It's been long and hard, and while I initially found myself at a point of great successes and the joy and highs and amazement of new accomplishments... I have been struggling and battling since as I try to just somehow maintain and figure out what that "normal" needs to be for me.

I'm not one that can eat just one cookie.  I eat the whole batch, or the whole package.  I'm not one that can eat just one chip, or one cracker, or one bowl of cereal.  It's quickly the whole bag, the whole box, and it's all gone.  I can get on a roll and steer clear entirely, but the thing with maintenance is ... figuring out how to just eat that one cookie.   How to just run just that one mile (and not nine more).

I need to continue to focus on that delicate life balance that I really struggle with.  I need to focus on the whole picture - the whole mind and body, not just the number on the scale, or the number of points eaten, the number of calories burned, or the number of days it's been since we lost our daughter.

I need to figure out what is currently out of focus, what is skewed and blurred and just not quite where it needs to be.  And then I need to start asking the questions... not just the general questions, but the specific questions of "Is A clearer than B?" "Is B clearer than C?" "Is 1 better than 2?" "Is 2 better than 3..." And then taking each little incriment and moving, tweaking, changing as needed. Some might need major adjustments, some only a little.

I find it funny how in my life I always seem to not be able to do everything all the time.  And what I mean by that is like... If I've got myself doing great on exercising and water intake each day - then I'm never quite so good on my food choices.  If I'm doing great on my hours of sleep and rest each day - then I'm never doing great on my exercise.  If I'm doing good at the exercise, water, and sleep - then I'm skipping my devotions, I'm not brushing my teeth before bed, I'm not making great meals for me or my family...  You get the picture, right?  It's like every day the perfect list includes:  Exercise, water intake, only eating healthy food choices, taking all the vitamins, helping (with full patience and loving understanding) with all the homework, school, band instruments, work, marriage, and mom related things.  It's getting all the laundry done, and the house picked up, and the meal on the table, and the dog to the vet, and teeth brushed twice a day (mine and everyone else's - oh, and with the spin brush that the dentist recommended but gives me a headache and of course also floss and mouthwash), and the hair washed, and the shoe strings untied every single time you take your shoes off.  It's putting all the clothes away as soon as you change them, it's putting everything away as soon as you're done with it.  It's texting, messaging, encouraging all the people while not being late to work and getting the school lunch packed and the lunch money needed in the account for tomorrow in the folder with the child carrying todays lunch, so he can also eat tomorrow. It's getting everyone where they need to be and picked back up without being late. It's sitting on the bleachers with the excited smile of encouragement at every single sporting, school, and extra circular event.  Oh and self care!  We mustn't forget devotions, personal development, quiet time, prayer, reflection, silence, yoga, journaling...

I could go on (and on and on and on...) but I won't.

I can do some things well for a while, at the expense of letting other things fall behind.  And then the other things that have fallen behind have to become the things I do well at for a while, while the earlier things I was able to do good at then fall behind.  Vicious cycle (for me anyway).  I just can't do all the things I know I should be doing every single minute of every single day.  And I (and "we" as an entire society) need to figure out how to honestly be ok with that, and not fall victum to the social media induced guilt flung at us from every single gosh darn direction.

So, by choosing the word focus for 2020, does not mean I'm intending to have a 20/20 focus on perfection every single day - the doing everything, every single day, for everyone (myself included).

No, I'm merely knowing that I need to figure out what things need to be changed, or realigned, or worked on to help my life run with better clarity and help me continue forward in a more clear and focused path.

Finding the middle, finding the give and take, finding the grace to walk away or the courage to take it on...  Keeping the steady focus on the stable horizon before me as I navigate the jungle of wild chaos all around me.

{ Previous blog post "Crane Clan Christmas Letter 2019" HERE }

Crane Clan Christmas Letter 2019

Here we are again, with Christmas right around the corner and a New Year, new decade in fact, following close at its heels.

We didn't send out a Christmas card last year, and decided last minute to do the easy way and just post a Christmas Letter blog with a current picture of us and just a few updates.

Gosh, where to even begin... it was another good year that flew by way too fast.

We started the year and spent much of the winter with Isaiah wresting in various tournaments around the area.  He and Brian really enjoyed their time together, and Isaiah met some really great people and new friends along the way.  They also enjoyed some time together ice fishing.  Don't worry, no one was cold or uncomfortable, as Brian has all the warm and fun stuff needed for long days on the ice (heater, ice shack, vexilar, the whole bit...)  If you ever want to go out for a day, just give him a call!

Winter proved to be rather hard for me, as I slipped into some depression and found myself just a little lost (again).  After spending lots of time in bed and lacking much ambition for anything, I was very grateful for the arrival of spring and slowly got myself back up and out there, and was slowly able to get myself into a little bit better of a place.

With spring came the excitement of getting to get back to the campground and getting everything cleaned up and our camper opened back up and ready for the season.  It was so good to be back!  We had a great summer camping, boating, fishing, hanging out as a family, and hanging out with all our camping friends.  We absolutely cherish our time and memories made at the lake.

Isaiah also played baseball this summer on a 5th grade team, so we spent lots to time in the bleachers watching him.  Bailey also played some slow pitch this summer and we got to also watch him and his team play.  Yup, I was an official #baseballmom this summer!

We decided to take a small vacation this summer and headed to Minneapolis for a few days.  We stayed downtown and got to experience a MN Twins baseball game (yup -we got to witness the epic triple play live in person!). We went to the Mall of America where ate at the Wallburgers restaurant, got cupcakes from Carlo's Bakery, and hung out in Legoland,  We also went to the zoo, and hiked, and Isaiah and I even got to run in a huge 5k race with 5,000 other runners that started right by our hotel.  You can read about that adventure HERE.  On the way home, we of course had to take in all the candies at the Worlds Largest Candy Store, and then spent a few last days just relaxing at the camper.

Suddenly it was fall and Isaiah was heading off to the 6th grade in the big Middle School building over in Alton.  New school building, new bus routes, new kids in his class, new teachers... but we worked really hard at it and the transition all went pretty well, and he is absolutely loving it now.  He also decided to join the band this fall, so we now have another baritonist in the family.  He is having two lessons a week right now and is really learning quickly.  He is excited to join the rest of his class in the "full band" practices and concerts after Christmas break.

Isaiah also played football this fall and got to go out and do some hunting with big brother Bailey (I'm not quite sure who was more excited about these outings). To date, Bailey is the only one who has come home with anything - but the season is not over!  I have no fear that our freezer will not be full again by the end of January.

In September my parents, Bailey, Isaiah, and I packed up the car and headed to Cedar Rapids for a fun little trip together.  Bailey, Isaiah, and I ran in the Kickoff to Kennick 5k race - which ended with us running under/through the stadium and coming out right on Kennick field where we crossed the finish line on the 50 yard line!  It was cool and raining, and it was Bailey's first ever 5k... On the way home we stopped to check out the Grotto and enjoyed a little picnic lunch there, just like when we were kids growing up and traveling on vacation. It is a trip and experience I will never forget!

In October Brian and I got to take a long weekend away to the Black Hills together.  I ran in the Crazy Horse 5k (Saturday) and Half Marathon (Sunday).  We stayed in a great little apartment in Hill City and got to see the trees changing, it was so beautiful.  We also drove the Needles Hwy, hiked to the Cathedral Spires, hiked to the top of Harney Peak (yes, the same day as my half marathon ~LOL), did wine tasting, toured Deadwood (where Brian won big on the penny slot machine), went to Mt Rushmore and just enjoyed a few days off from work and being away from any responsibilities (Thank you to my parents for taking on Isaiah and both dogs while we were gone #neveragain #lol)

Currently Isaiah is back to a busy wresting practice and tournament schedule, Bailey has been busy busy with harvest all fall, and added snow removal to his schedule at the first snow fall.

And here we are, the Christmas tree is up and the decorations out around the house.  The gifts are all bought and wrapped (well as long as I stop buying any more they are anyway), and while I am still fighting off a little bit of the hardness and ache I always have at the holidays, I am ready to celebrate.

And ... a  quick update on all of us.

Brian:
Still co-owner and busy working for J&B Custom Carpentry.  They had a fun year full of lots of various projects.  You can follow their work on facebook - click HERE.  And if you are ever in need of anything (big or small) give him a call!  He is busy with Isaiah and his wrestling, he is still a lover of all things camo and is off to hunt and fish absolutely whenever possible.  He is currently eagerly waiting for the ice to get thick enough to get out there and ice fish again.  Oh, and I should also mention he turned the big 4-0 in November #wink ;-).  Also this fall, he got to cross something off his bucket list when we went to see comedian Bill Engvall live.

Sara:
Last spring I took a job at Staples Promotional Products and got to get back into the Art Dept as an Art Administrator.  I've been back for a year and a half already, and just loving it.  I am also still doing some cupcakes on the side whenever I can fit them in (be sure to message if you ever need any!).  I am still very passionate about health and fitness and spend a lot of time running. (I try to always be training for something.)  I trained to do a progressive 4 for the 4th run in July, and fell and injured my ankle about a mile in to my ten mile run.  I did complete the 10 mile race and went on to finish the Half Marathon the following morning, but it's been a long road of recovery since, and I'm pretty sure my ankle will never be 100% again. You can read about that HERE.  I ran several 5k's, 10k's, and half marathons this year, and I'm currently training for another progressive 4 day challenge in January (5k, 10k, Half Marathon, Full Marathon 4 days in a row). You can read about that HERE.  We shall see if this is something I will be able to complete or not... I teach a fun and very energetic group of 2nd Graders on Wednesday night at church. (Well, I'm not sure how much they are actually learning, but hopefully they are at least feeling well loved #smile). When I'm not working, caking, training, mom-ing, wife-ing, etc I still love to take photos, scrapbook, read, and blog.

Bailey:
Bailey works full time for Kuiken Farms where he drives semi hauling cattle and helps around the farm and fields as needed. He also helps out hauling milk at Roorda Dairy on occasion, and also has his own shop and storage business called Moonlite Garage.  During the winter you can also usually find him out and about in a skid loader clearing snow in the area. He is 22 and living in Alton. He enjoyed boating and slow pitch this summer, and made it to the lake camping a few times. He also went on vacation with my parents camping at Starbuck, MN this summer and had a great time! He has a super loyal dog named Hinstley, and he still loves all things camo as well.  He is also out hunting whenever he has the time. We love having him stop over and hanging out with us, and I just love the picts of the sunsets and sunrises he sends me quite often.

Isaiah:
Isaiah is 11 and in the 6th grade.  He is busy in school and enjoying sports.  He loves legos and PlayStation and watching tv shows like Dude Perfect, How It's Make, Mythbusters and America's Funniest Home Videos.  He volunteered at the library this summer and loved getting to take his bike there and back and just having some larger freedoms and responsibilities.

Piper and Lily:
This fall we had to make the hard decision to move Lily to my parents house.  Here we thought she was going to be long gone two years ago already, and here she is, still alive and doing really well actually.  However, she was just not being very nice to Piper and we were at a bit of a loss as to what to do.  While we are sad and miss her in our house terribly, it is so nice getting to see her any time we stop at my parents, and to say that my parents are loving her well is an understatement.

We want to wish all of you and your families a very Merry Christmas.

We pray that you can all find some time to reflect over the past year and count all your many blessings.  We also hope that you are able to find moments of true joy and happiness this season. The holidays are a tricky time of year for most of us, and not always quite as joyful and happy as the tvs and social media portray.  It is our sincere hope and prayer that everyone will be touched by God's grace and goodness this season, and that the coming year will bring you blessings beyond your wildest imagination.

Blessings and hugs from our family to yours
Brian, Sara, Bailey & Isaiah


{ Next blog post "Keep the Focus 2020" HERE }

{ Previous blog post "Endurance Outside the Box - Inside the House" HERE }

Endurance - Outside the Box (While Inside the House)

So… I’ve kind of embarked on something odd, a little silly probably, and I had told myself I wouldn’t really talk about it at all until afterwards… until after it was done and completed, you know… just in case I can’t actually do it. If I can’t do it, can’t actually finish it, then if no one even knew about it, I won’t really have failed it.

Well, if it’s something I can’t actually finish, I will of course have failed myself, but at least I won’t have to tell anyone else about it, right?!?

I am one who rarely chooses to embark on anything that I might not be able to finish or accomplish. It’s one of those things you are both proud of, and ashamed of, all at the same time. Now, I’m not one that has a fairly low bar of achievement expectancy, don’t get me wrong. I’d have to say I am actually slightly on the manic, driven, side of things if I’m honest… I’m usually up for a good challenge, and I am always busy doing something. But, if that something is presented to me in a way that makes me wonder if I can, could, should even take it on, I usually will decline.

I would rather not even try, then try and fail.

Failure. Of course that is a term that is viewed at differently, as through the eyes of each beholder. To some not completing something may not exactly be a “failure” - it may simply be viewed in a more positive light, perhaps used as a measurement of how far they have come … rather than how far they didn’t make it.

I’m definitely one that views life through the glass half empty mentality. I try really hard to look on the bright side, the hopeful side, the positive side, the encouraging side, the “I’m enough” side - but truth be told, that is just not how this brain of mine is wired. All my life I have battled the inner demons of not enough, failure, self doubt… All.my.life.

Looking back, I may not have actually failed at many things. I am one that usually won’t take on anything upfront that I fear I may fail at, and the things that I have battled and battled and battled and finally allowed myself to throw my hands up to in defeat… well those are things that I have also said that if I was going to fail at something, it wasn’t going to be small.

If I was going to down - I was going down with all guns blazing, go big or go home. I fell hard and failed big. It is probably a very good thing I have led a life as guarded and controlled as I have. I don’t want to even think about some of the alternate life routes I could have ended up going down.

All this being said, back to that odd and silly thing I mentioned earlier… the one I wasn’t going to mention at all, but then did… I will try attempt to explain what I’m currently training for and why.

From the very first post I saw of @manderbeez on instagram two years ago as she ran, documented, selfied with the characters and shared her weekend, I immediately fell in love with the idea of the RunDisney Marathon Weekend! In mid January Disneyworld hosts a running event that is four days in a row. You run through the Disney parks (before they even open) with tons of other excited runners, many glammed up in super fun costumes and running gear. The characters are out, the medals are amazing, and it’s all under the stars and magic glitter of Disney! Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday. 5K, 10K, Half Marathon, Full Marathon, with an extra medal at the completion of all four races. Ummmmm #swoon.

I immediately put it on my bucket list!

And then I began researching it all. Oh my it’s expensive, and the registration fee’s don’t even cover the park passes if you want to either stay or go back after the race to spend time at each park. Airfare, hotel, food, time off work… heck we were still paying off credit cards from our family vacation there a few months prior. Apparently registration also fills up incredibly fast, and if I’m honest, I think the thing that really kept pricking me in the back of my mind… I am one that is very self competitive with myself. I train hard for my races, and I don’t stop during. I also have an unbelievable love for photos, selfies, and life size Disney characters. I knew I would have to either allow myself to run the entire way and skip all the stop possibilities and opportunities, or I would have to allow myself the grace to run and truly not care about my finishing time. Oh, that was a tricky tricky little mind game going on, I will not lie.

I knew 2019 was not going to be the year, so I told myself 2020. I would have “2020” vision for training and completing the Disney Marathon Weekend in January 2020. Oh I thought I was so cleaver with that one. :-)

But, life does not always have the same clarity and vision. I changed jobs and have less time off, we have medical bills, repair bills, we have so many things going on, and I just knew I could not actually follow through with signing up (or at least attempting to sign myself up) for that race in 2020.

So I decided to be a little creative in my thinking and my expectations of the actual event.

I decided to sign up for the RunDisney’s Summer Shorts - which is a virtual 5K race that they had this past summer. You could sign up for one month, two months, or you could sign up to do all 3 months of their virtual 5k’s over the summer, and you would get a bonus 4th completion medal when you completed all of them, all mailed to your house. And I began toying with the idea of training to do it as the DopeyChallenge over the 4th of July weekend in Minnesota at the lake.

April came. May came, no medals. The first race was supposed to be for June and I thought for sure they’d have all arrived by then. There was a lot of social media talk about it as well from other wondering runners… and it came out the medals weren’t even going to start shipping until mid to end of August. Well, I am not one to run a race without a medal at the finish, sorry… but that’s just me. At first I was upset, but soon I found another virtual option, which I ordered and was assured would arrive before my July race (and honestly, was more than ok with giving up any thought of having to do a full 26.2 distance again.)

And that attempt, well, it did not go as I had planned or trained. Click HERE to read about that race.

In time, the Disney medals would finally arrive, and as I held them in my hands, a new idea began to form. I would run my own virtual Disney Marathon Weekend at the very same time the actual race was happening in Florida! I would do the very same Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday - 5K, 10K, Half Marathon, Full Marathon. Training would work out well to tag on to at the end of my Crazy Horse Half Marathon in October, giving me 3 months to train.

And so… I am officially training for this “thing”. And as the miles have been ramping up, I have been seriously wondering if this is something I should have decided to try accomplish or not. This morning my training run was 13.5 miles. Just for training. No crowds of people, no pre-race jitters, no t-shirts, no medals, no new mug, no massage. Just all those miles for a little penciled check mark next to it, and then on to the next day… to the next week.

At mile one I wasn’t sure if I was going to get to the end today. But somehow I did. It wasn’t great, it wasn’t pretty. It was on a treadmill for 9 miles and an elliptical for 4.5 miles at 4:00 am in my basement for Heaven’s sake.

I came up to find my family doing nothing on the couch, the house a hot mess, and promptly stepped in dog poop with my good new indoor running shoes (because those on the couch obviously weren’t watching the dog, although I was then blamed because it had to have happened after I went down at 4am). After cleaning up said mess, I proceeded to the kitchen to mix and drink some after workout recharge drink, only to dump the entire shaker on the floor before getting the lid on properly. Another mess to clean up, another surface to mop.

It was not even 7:30 am, and I was so done for the day. So done. I showered and climbed back in bed for a while.

Before drifting off back to sleep for a bit, my achy body was screaming at me, and my anxious and overwhelmed mind was also screaming at me, wondering what I was thinking attempting to take this whole challenge on. And why? And for who? Surely I am not going to ever be able to accomplish this. And since today’s mileage was that of a basic half marathon, I kept hearing myself over and over whispering it is time to just quit, just be done. Quit while it’s still achievable - I know I can, as I have in the past, completed the illusive half marathon. It wasn’t pretty but I have even accomplished the 5K, 10K, 10 mile, Half Marathon four days in a row.

Why in heaven’s name did I honestly think I could take on a challenge of this proportion? I have no idea. No idea, other than the simple fact that my entire soul lit up when I first saw those photos posted on instagram in Jan 2018 and I was like “What in the world is this?!?! I have got to find out and do this!”

But the simple reality is - I won’t ever be able to afford to do the Disney Marathon Weekend, at least within the fitness window of being able to actually attempt to complete it. This isn’t something you just start the ten year savings fund to go do. Ten years from now I will be 55. I don’t know if I’ll still be alive, if I’ll be healthy, if I’ll still be able to run, let alone even walk. I can’t, or at least I choose not to wait that long to attempt that which has set my soul on fire.

And by doing it virtually in my basement - I won’t have to worry about taking (or not taking) time and opportunity for all those character photo opps and I won’t have to worry that I might not make the time requirements for the marathon and someone will have to pick me up with a golf cart and drive me to the finish and then not get the extra “all achievement” medal because I couldn’t actually do it.

Never mind the fun, the glitz, the glam, the sparkle, the crowds, the lights, and sounds and smells of Disney all around me. Granted I know that’s a huge part of the experience, but I know that that will never be my reality to experience, so I have decided to just focus on the endurance portion I guess. The training, the mind over miles battle from within.

And the reality is, I might not be able to finish. That scares me, but I guess there must also be a small portion of me that is also intrigued by that. What if I can’t finish? Will I stop and give up at some mile marker before the 26.2 on that Saturday? What will that feel like? What will it take to actually get the best of me? Will I view it as how far I was able to get, or how far I was from being unable to finish?

Or what if… just what if… I actually can finish? Will I be able to say it was an actual race, since it was really only a “virtual” race, that was intended to really only be 3 5k’s over the course of 3 months? I don’t know. I just don’t know. I guess time will tell.  I didn’t think I’d get those miles in this morning, and somehow I did. So who knows. Who knows. Perhaps it’s time to fess up to this silly little thing I’m currently training for and just simply see if there’s anyone out there wanting to following along on my current journey which I have dubbed “Endurance Outside the Box… While Inside the House.”

Up next… 14 training miles next weekend. Will I make it, I don’t know… I just don’t honestly know. I guess it’s time to get a little more uncomfortable and push on with a little more depth and passion and perseverance than I’ve had to before. But you know, once upon a time, I would have never in my wildest dreams thought I could run, and finish, a half marathon. And I have. More than once. Several times in fact. And today, that distance became merely just another “training day” distance. Who knew.

So as I sit on the couch right now and look at my inflamed bunions, messed up toenails, and feel every muscle ache and scream with any small move, I find myself still asking…

Do I quit and not even try, or do I take a chance and keep going… I mean, who knows?!?

{ Previous Blog Post "The Girl In Black" HERE }

The Girl In Black

The other day as I was walking out to my car during my lunch break, my feet swiftly marching down concrete steps, a biting south wind upon my face, I heard the words “Food is the Enemy… Exercise is the Punishment” flitter through my mind. Part of it was like silent whisper while at the same time a clear and audible holler.

The exact juxtaposition that it is to me.

It was the most basic of concepts and reality within my life… dumbed down, cut down, whittled down to those eight jagged sharp words. A stark reality, finely and intricately etched out of the cellulite rich clay of my mind, body, and soul.

I knew instantly it was the simplified, yet heady, answer to what I’ve been running from my entire life, literally and figuratively. It’s what I’ve been operating through, it’s what I’ve been struggling with, it’s what I’ve been drowning in my entire life. It’s the mix of truth and lies that runs rich through the very marrow and veins of my entire being.

Food is the enemy and exercise is the punishment. It’s the black and white to the rainbow array of chaos that’s been nipping at my heels for nearly as long as I can remember, and there is nothing remotely enjoyable or fulfilling about either.

Oh I know it to be true, these words weren’t something brand new that was struck upon me in that moment, and yet, somehow the simplicity of it that day seemed to slam into me with a calm clarity that both seared my scars shut, while ripping them wide open all at the same time.

When it comes to food and exercise and how I view myself with the goals, priorities, expectations, and perfection perceptions that I have set upon myself, I know they are a lie. I know they are unrealistic, they are unattainable, and yet even though I clearly know the ridiculousness of it all, I still fall victim to the lies and the allure time and time again.

Dammit, it's what I want.  I want the picture I see in my head to be the same as the picture I see in my mirror. And interestingly enough... I'm also pretty sure that my minds eye is more than a little jaded in the reality in which it sees.  I stumbled upon this this summer as I viewed a photo of myself taken at a race I had run.  I kept looking at it, surprised somehow by what I saw, because that photo of me was not the me I see in the mirror every day, then again a full body photo of myself is an absurd rarity... so who actually knows.  Perhaps a different blog for a different day.

But as I continue to sit here and try process some of this, I allow myself to go back in time… back to the days of late Elementary and early Junior High. Back to the time when my body began to change, along with the bodies of those of my friends and classmates around me. And as my body changed and matured, my mind also began to change. I started to view myself through harsh and hard eyes. I started to think of myself through a lens of negativity and this driven complexity.

I’m not sure when exactly, or how it happened, but somehow I knew I was built “differently.” I wasn’t naturally thin and athletic. I wasn’t naturally graceful. I was a little too loud, a little too short, a little too heavy, and little too flat chested. Oh and my hair was a little too weird. Little Orphan Annie perms, mullets, naturally curly, humidity frizz.

All the way back then I was already self conscious of my heavy legs, my crooked nose, my hair, my loud personality that just didn’t always quite fit in.  One knows these things... we just do. Even if no one else point blank tells it to you to your face.

Oh what I wouldn’t give to go back and allow myself to look in the mirror and really see myself, the me on the inside, the me I was created to become, the me I surely should have figured out how to love better so many decades ago. My heart breaks and aches as I think of the demons I have chased and the voices and visions I have allowed to feed me so many half truths and misconceptions though all these years and all these stages of my life.

I longed to be accepted, to be loved, to be seen. (I still do.) I longed to excel at something, to meet all the goals, to be “in.” And somehow, I just was never quite enough to be “in” with the “cool crowd” so I ended up running with the "smarty" group a tier down, and then, with some deserved guilt, I would slowly leave behind those real and true friends and began to slide in to that little bit rougher crowd, you know… the “blacker” crowd. The ones that dress in black, the ones that are more of the black sheep kids.  I was surrounded by so much potential of serious trouble, and yet somewhere inside I did seem to also see some small glimmer of my own potential (and a whole lot of naivety) … just enough to keep me just on the border line between straight and narrow, and completely out of control. I know that sounds a bit odd, but it was the truth. I spent quite a bit of my time with a crowd that could have led me far far away, into so much more trouble than the little bit I did manage to find. I floated between the smarty group and the wrong group, and thankfully I still managed to tow a pretty straight line on the side of right.

And I guess I call them the “wrong group” because that’s what my parents called them, although I never quite understood that. I always felt drawn to them, those that were more wild and free, more open and artistic. I seemed to see them differently than my parents and general society. I didn’t question their outward appearance, I looked beyond. I looked inside to see their honestly, to feel their trust, to simply believe in their genuineness and inner realness, at least until given reason to not to.

I feel I spent a lot of my time growing up having to defend myself, or hide myself, or fight an upstream battle against the majority of the society around me. I remember saying over and over that I always felt I just “wasn’t of the same cloth” as my family, and it brought me, and them, unnecessary tension and mistrust. Somehow amid all of that, mixed with my people pleasing tendencies and my skewed perception of perfection and body image, the thoughts and beliefs in my mind began to become so ingrained, so defined, that they just became my truth I guess.

And that truth I carried, was that I wasn’t enough. This “not-enoughness” didn’t become apparent or pin-point recognizable until just a few years ago, after crashing rock bottom in my life and having to somehow either die at the bottom, or figure out how to start fighting my way back to life, climbing my way back up, and along the way I needed to start figuring out who I was - who I really was. And of course, at the age of forty, I had once thought I knew exactly who I was, until I wasn’t anyone at all any more… until I was bruised and beaten and battered and bloody and completely and totally lost in life.

I was lost, I was hurting, and I was justifiably angry at God.

My entire life I have lived with the demon of food control and body image issues. I defined myself by the number on the scale, by the size of clothing I wore, by the number of calories I ate, by the number of calories I burned. Every bite of food was a battle, a war, one bite away from possibly too much. And every "too much" led to punishment through excessive exercise, and, when I was younger, perhaps a few laxatives (which I can't even describe to you how that messed up my adult digestive system).  There were seasons I was in control and there were seasons I wasn’t. I was either heavy, or I was thin. I have spent very little of my life anywhere in between.

My closet (and various boxes stacked neatly in the basement) had an entire wardrobe from size 4/6 to size 14/16 that I rollercoastered back and forth between.  Sometimes it was years, sometimes it was only months.  But it was never ever forever.  I would lose knowing I would gain it all back again.  I would gain until I couldn't get into that largest set of clothes I owned... and then somehow, someway, I would get back the control and I would find the willpower to lose the weight again.

I was never sure how long each season of the teeter totter would last.

The funny thing is, that the seasons when I felt “in control,” are the seasons I was most not in control, the ED (eating disorder) was in full control, and it whispered such amazing sweet nothings in my mind that I was left feeling on top of the world because I was the one in complete and total control, or so I thought.

At the age of forty, I was rock bottom. I had lost one marriage, and nearly a second. I had lost my health and my infant child, the miracle child we found out we were carrying after nearly two decades of infertility.  That miracle child carried the 1 in 5000th odds against her when her very first chromosomes decided to split into three, instead of two.  Trisomy 18 would take her from us before we even got to hold her.

At the age of forty-two I was still rock bottom and knew it was time to either do something drastic, or… I don’t think I even knew what the “or” was going to be, I just knew I couldn’t let myself go there.

And so it began, my journey to attempt to start to heal from the inside out. Heal mentally, spiritually and physically. It was so much harder, and took so much longer, than I ever imagined. Recently I accepted that I never will be fully healed in those areas this side of Heaven. But, that also doesn’t give me the free ticket to stop trying, stop working on it, stop striving towards a healthier mind, body, and soul.

I'm fully aware it's a battle I will never ever entirely win or control, it's one I need to attempt to continue to merely just survive.  And please, no barrage of information on therapy and treatment centers.  And I'm not at all saying that this is an admission of some hidden depth of my current mindset, nor would I consider myself currently overly "ill" with this illness... but truth of the matter, ED is an illness that has seasons of dormancy and seasons of waging war, and a whole lot of docile, strategically, menacing, complacency in between the two ends.

It’s been an incredible process and journey these last several years, and it’s been quite a bumpy ride. I fight the war of these realities and allusions every single minute of the day. In my mind I know what I need to do, what I have to do, what I can do, what I should do… and yet there are days when I just can’t… or I just don’t… or I just won’t.  I'll continue to battle myself and find my body and mind in disagreement whenever I consciously examine and call them out on it.  However, if I don't consciously seek their true intentions out, they virtually go undetected in their war and sabotaging.

In my mind, all those years and years ago I set my definition and image of perfection high. Unattainably high. I allowed my brain to define it’s own description and definition of absolute perfection, and I didn’t argue with it when it solely went for outward physical appearances. I didn’t try sway it when it latched on to the stick thin, chiseled, tan, toned, lean, tall, athletic bodies and set that look high up on this perfection pedestal to longingly gaze up at all the day long. I also didn’t seem to give it a second thought for all those years as I listened to its drill sergeant rigidity barking it’s commands and screaming my failures over and over again in my mind.

I pushed, I strived, I lied, I over-did, I under-played, only to still never be enough, never reaching anything remotely near what I felt was good enough, close enough, or surely where I wanted to be at.  Never quite "happy."

As I grew up I looked for validation from my parents, but weight and exercise always became conversations and side remarks leading to shame, which would then cycle around into anger, and anger always cycles around to guilt in my mind.  All my life I felt I had to hide, had to underplay my accomplishments because the weight loss and exercise and body image and sexuality was a bad thing, a really bad thing. It was to be talked about as little as possible, and when it was brought up, it was always colored in the scarlet shade of shame and sin.  I know it was simply their way of trying to love and protect me the best way they knew how... but for some reason, their way and my way didn't exactly come out seeing, or feeling, quite the same way, and in turn I think I began to just bottle it all up, cover it with a thick layer or guilt and shame, and hide it far far away.

Throughout the years I would look for validation from the relationships I was in. I longed to be seen, to be valued, to be recognized, to be prized, to be wanted… but never fully felt I was. I always felt left behind, left out, unwanted, unneeded, invisible. And in my unseen, I would easily become bitter, and the unhappiness would fester and multiply.

I was never good enough for myself.  I was never good enough for anyone else. And perhaps the never good enough for myself simply blinded me from being able to see I was maybe good enough for everyone else.  I don't actually know...

I was a horrible person to live with with myself in my own mind, and I was horrible person to live with alongside anyone else.  I still am.  I still am.  Lord knows I wouldn't want to live with me if I didn't have to.

I admit I still stand here today looking at that photo of the girls in their short running gear standing on the track. Both are thin and toned and chiseled, one in black and one in white. The one in white is built very similar to the one in black, but the girl in black… the girl in black standing there in her two piece running outfit, smiling, is the epitome of perfection within my mind.

I want to be the girl in black. It’s what drives me, and it’s what’s killing me. It’s what gets me up every morning and gets me on that treadmill, and it’s also what drives me right back to bed in a funk, a depression, a weight so heavy on my shoulders that I can’t even lift my head up some days because of it.

The girl in black is this illusive mirage that I honestly know does not exist, or surely does not exist within the cells and molecules of this present body of mine… and yet I have let myself come to believe in its reality, and mark my failure levels against it. Rationally I know better, I do. And yet… looking at that photo I hear the hiss of distaste against what I compare it to in my mirror.

I've read several memes and quotes that running (or exercise) is a celebration of what we can do, not a punishment for what we ate.  Is that honestly true for anyone, or do we all just know that's a line of crap?  We all know it's about the control, of course it's about the control, the calories, the punishment.  There is nothing "fun" about running, there is no such thing as an "easy" run, a "shake out" run.... oh come on!  If I'm out there running or working out, I'm out there dying and not having fun and not taking it easy or lallygagging.  No, I'm out there fighting against myself, against every step, every breath, every jump, every curl, every burpee, every triple bear... do I need to go on?  That shit is hard hard... for me anyway.  It's a mind battle to even get to the start.  It's a mind and physical battle to then get through the minutes and miles of whatever thing it is I've decided to do.

If I'm honest, I know I still hold food to be the enemy. It's still the one that is trying to battle it’s way in and I’m trying to battle myself over and over again to keep it out.  And every single day, over and over and over again, I fail the battle. The food goes in.  The war is lost. The punishment begins. The miles, the muscles, the push, the drive, the punishment upon my body raging against those calories.  But all this is silently happening on some broken hamster wheel in the far reaches of my mind.  It's not my actual thoughts, just some invisible pulse always pushing its way around, trying not to be noticed, not be recognized, not be called out.

Why can’t I eat, and think about, and enjoy food for the glorious and decadent act of basic fulfillment that it is? Why can’t I run, and exercise, and work out for the endorphin high, for the basic pleasure and enjoyment of an activity that it is?  On a small level I believe I can, but if I'm honest, that line is spread very thin and far between.

Why does everything have to be so excessive, so out there, so almost out of control all the time? Why do I think I need to look like the girl in black? And why do I think that I shouldn't? I mean, honestly ~ is that a fair question to also ask?  Is my image of perfection actually wrong?  Or is the fact that it's more mentally harmful than physically wrong really the bigger issue?

I don't put the blame for my twisted and messed up mind and reality on anyone else.  I honestly didn't realize just how "different" certain portions of my brain and thoughts were from others.  I wonder if the majority of the world doesn't mentally operate the way I do.  Oh I know we all have our own sets of oddities and complexities and half truths we believe and cling to with every mighty ounce of our will power. We all have things we struggle with, hide from, battle against.

We all have those demons of something fighting within us.

Mine is different than yours, yours is different than mine, but I am pretty sure we are all one big hot mess express on the inside.  Some of us hide things, numb, cope with things, handle things better... and some just don't.  Oh if it wasn't just so hard to simply love ourselves, and love others as we were originally designed to do... before the fall of man, before the entry of sin.  Before technology. Before society became hard and harsh.  Before...

Before mind over matter reached inside and grabbed hold of our inner most feelings, thoughts, actions and interactions and began to pull and push and cut and twist and crimp and break all of those delicate intricacies of our own personal uniqueness, leaving us all in some way lost, hurting, alone and at war against both ourselves and the world around us.


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