What is Christmas all about?

Yes, I know it's a rhetorical question. Of course it's all about the presents... wait... I mean it's all about Christ... and... presents...? Please be laughing now. I'm trying a bit of humor.

Christmas is all about Christ and his birth. His coming and making himself human and sacrificing himself so that we could be saved is the best present of all.

Okay, now as a parent, one can get really excited when a child gets it. At this time, I have nine year old twins, Lisa & Ben, and a 2 1/2 year old, Nathan. One of my love languages is gift giving. So, it's natural to assume that I really like Christmas. The closer it gets, the more excited I get. I have to force myself to not give my presents early. I love watching people open presents. Whenever, there is a get together, I watch everyone open their presents before I even touch mine. Oh, I like getting gifts, but I can honestly say "It is better to give than receive."

I've been rambling. Anyway, we (Lisa and I) were out shopping earlier in the season before Thanksgiving and we came across a toddler table with the top made into a dry erase board material. Lisa says "Oh, I think Nate would really like this." I agreed with her, but I told her that I was basically done shopping for him. A few weeks later, I was passing out allowance money. (L & B get $3 a week to basically clean up after Nate.) Lisa counted her money and she had $22. She got really excited. "Mom, I have enough money to go and buy that table for Nate. Can I buy it for him for Christmas?"

And my answer was "Yes". Come on, really, could I have really told her no? I think not. She really wanted to go down and get this table for him. So, I took her down to the stuff-mart to get it. We went straight back to where they'd been displayed and they weren't there. Her heart fell, but I am not one to give up. It is my duty to teach my child how to hunt. Long story, short: we found them a few aisles over.

As, we made our way back up to the registers, Lisa saw a stuffed rabbit that she had been eying for herself. It was $10. She looked at the rabbit for a moment and I could see she was doing calculations in her head. I pleasantly reminded her that she really didn't have to get Nate the table, it was her money and she could spend it anyway she wanted. She held her chin up and replied, "No, I really think Nathan will like this. I'm going to get him the table." She turned away from the stuffed bunny and we went up to the register. She proudly put her money on the counter and paid.

Like me, she could barely wait the week to give it to him. Finally, I said she could. Honestly, I don't think she has even thought twice about her decision. The table cost $18 and if you can do division, you know it took her six weeks to save up that much money. $18 may seem like a small sacrifice to you, but it was huge to her and worth ever penny as she sat for about an hour playing with her little brother on his new dry erase table.

Hang In There

Ever since I was 13 and my brother read my diary to a couple of his friends, one of which was heavily written about among the private reverie, I've always had the feeling that no matter what is written it can always be read and therefore if you are going to take the time to write expect it to be read. This was all to say that whenever someone highly encouraged me to journal my thoughts and feelings I would always inwardly grown. I hate to journal for the above mentioned reason. Now even when I journal I still edit highly. I don't think anyone really wants to swim in the chaotic turmoil that I call my mind.
With that being said, I think I might blog about the journey I am currently on. My counselor thinks that someday it might help someone else. I surely hope so, because I don't want to think I'm trudging through this muck for nothing.

One day I woke up with nagging feeling that I had forgotten something. I desperately tried to recall what needed to be remembered but it was not to be so. Then entered the dread and panic. If I don't remember what it is I have forgot then something terribly, horribly, awful is going to happen. Yes, this was the beginning on-set of what many in the psych community call Pure O or a.k.a. as Pure Obsession a form of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder). Now the average person might be okay with this, thinking, "well now I have a name to call it." But, no I can't be held to the average standard. I must achieve to go above and beyond that of any normal mortal. I have to go "O" about it. ??? Yes, I began to obsess about the fact that I was obsessive.

The actual true beginning probably started while I was still in high school, but I was able to deal to some degree with the anxiety that not being in total control can bring. In 2006, a traumatic humiliating experience occurred, that intensified the "O" and within the next year social anxiety began to emerge. I think I may understand why Emily Dickinson decided to stay in her house.

For those of you who are close to my family, you may recall a series of events that began in the spring of 2008. Starting with my falling down my steps and breaking my ankle (being laid up for at least six weeks with a small toddler running around is not good), then my cat of 12 years died, then the next week I almost fall off a two story building, (that could have been disastrous, thankfully I only pulled the muscles in my other foot), then three days later, my son gets pulled under a heavy and old merry-go-round that didn't end so merry when he broke is femur and we had to spend the next week or so in a Tennessee hospital (I have nothing against Tennessee hospitals except for the fact that they are two states away from my current residence) and then..., and then..., and as of yet there still seems to be no end of the continuing drama that I currently call my life. (let us stop and take a breath) [take a deep breath in and slowly let it out to the count of five, repeat if necessary].

Stress is second nature to us now. But, stress can take its toll, not just mentally, but physically. I have also dealt with headaches and migraines that make me stop everything and nothing can get done, which adds more work to my already overworked hubby. I've said all this to say this: I have become unreliable. It's true and this makes me sad. I'm finally on a new medication that at least doesn't seem to feed the migraine, but it has it's own side affects. I deal with the feelings of uselessness. The great thing is my home support system. I have my partner and coach constantly reassuring me that this is just a season in life and even now this new med is better than the last. We just needs some fine tuning.

I know if you've made it this far through this drawn out tale you may be wondering a variety of many things, one of which may be, but not limited to, "Wow, that sucks!" To be honest, I have no clue what you may be thinking right now. I've learned that I tend not to think like the average non-OCD person. But this above all else should at least bring you some hope.

When I start to think that I'm the most worthless mom and human being on earth, I get a random note from my child which reads: Dear Mom, I'm so glad your my mom, I love you so much that I want to live with you forever. Love, ____ P.S. Your a wonderful mom (heart)

Okay if that's not God's way of saying "hang in there" then I don't know what is. Have a hope filled day! =)Bek

Gripe Session

This is a gripe session so if you don't want to read a rant, then stop reading now.

Okay, I don't care how smart or knowledgable somebody is, they don't have the right to treat me or anyone else like they're a lesser species. The doc that I went to see, who I didn't get to see the first appointment, treated me like it was my fault that all the test results weren't in. AND, why was I seeing him today anyway?

"Well, sir, I have done everything your office has suggested that I do, and this is a follow-up visit."

"Yes, Yes, but why are you seeing me? Did you see the endocrinologist, like was suggested?"

"Yes."

"Well, what were the results?..." On and on the questions went. Somehow, things had been miscommunicated, but that wasn't my problem. I did everything he had asked (or I should say his assistant had asked because I didn't even see him at the first consultation appointment).

I'm so glad Rick had been there with me. He got to witness first hand how I can be treated sometimes. I guess I'm not assertive enough. Who knows? Rick says that I'm more of a Meg Ryan than a Tom Hanks. He's right, of course. "It's not personal, it's business," is a load of bunk. All that means is it wasn't personal to him. It was very personal to me. I don't like being treated like a door-mat just because he's having a bad day or because he's a brain surgeon and perhaps has a higher IQ, which may be doubtful, because I'm pretty smart. Okay, he's a brain surgeon and has a higher IQ, but, none-the-less that doesn't give him the right to treat me as an inconvenience. He still got paid for his time.

Wordy Words

If it goes without saying, then don't say it.

Short Story

Alanna's Death

by Rebecca L Elliott

He looked at her, hiding the pain that ripped through his heart. He had no way of expressing how he felt. Words were inadequate. How do you express losing part of your soul? She was his mate and now she was vanishing before him. Her body glowed and shimmered as her last breath escaped her lips. Her eyes brightened and lost all color.

Her body rose and twisted, weightless in the air. The glow broke through her skin around her heart and eyes. The light flared burning away her skin and clothes. Soon all that remained was a pulsating bright globe which pounded in rhythm with his own heartbeat. It pulsed several more seconds and then the light winked out.

She was gone. The light that had glowed within her had dissolved. His heart was torn apart and shattered. She was his soul and now she was gone.

Just keep swimming

Okay, If I hadn't already been diagnosed with a form of OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder) called Pure O (Obsession), I'd swear that I was bipolar. Yesterday was a great day. Rick's b-day, riding high = no headache. Today, after a few hours dizziness, the full onslaught came to bear and no defense could stand against it. It's amazing how much better I feel when I don't have a headache, and looking back over the past year and a half, those days have been very rare.

Anyway, at least now I know why I'm having headaches so severe, and in that I have peace. After being sent to the chiropractor to help relieve "tension" headaches (with the year our family has had, this is a very understandable diagnosis), the chiro helped some but didn't really eliminate the pain. I went back to the doc. I'd had a CT last year so he ordered an MRI. I didn't really worry about it. I thought there'd be nothing. I be told, "It's just a headache. Take some Tylenol."

However, the doc found a cyst in my head near my pituitary gland. In an odd sort of retrospect, I'm very relieved. The doc believes the cyst is benign. I will see a neurologist in a couple of weeks to discuss treatment. I've done some research and the prognosis is good. If they remove it, this may reduce some of my other health problems that I've been dealing with for years. In a crazy sort of way I'm excited for the possibilities. Of course, right now that doesn't stop the current pain or dizziness.

What should you do when life tries to get you down? Do as the salmon do:
Just Keep Swimming.

Ambiguity is more than one syllable

I've been working on a book for the past couple of years. It's almost complete and ready for professional eyes. I became discouraged the other day (perhaps the FEAR of failure) when I noticed that some of my narrative did not sound like an adolescent but an adult. Of course I am an adult and I use very big words. Even when I was in my teens I still used big words, and I've come to realize that this is probably not the norm. Anyway, then I came across a friends blog (Mark) and he wrote a piece using mostly one syllable words. I was deeply impressed. His piece was masterful. I would actually have to concentrate very hard to not use multiple syllable words. I find myself daily re-explaining what I thought was a simple explanation, but my children have no clue what I was talking about because I used a word they didn't understand. If I had only realized this 8 years ago, when they were not yet one I may have saved myself a lot of headache and heartache. ANY-Hoo, I'm rambling. This is all to say that my friends writing is a work of inspiration and he should be aware of this. Not only for my writing but perhaps for everyday communication. I come back to the KISS. Always Keep It Super Simple. Why have I overcomplicated my life?

What inspires you? What makes you keep on going?

Funerals

I don't like them. They are a reminder of my own mortality. The one from this week was most troublesome. Afterward, I felt a desperate need to spend the day with my Mom. We went to lunch and then did a little shopping. Funerals are also a reminder that I do not have control. I'm reminded of a quote from one of my favorite shows (which was recently canceled).

"Control is just an illusion meant to comfort us." -Stargate Atlantis.

Yeah, this pretty much sums up my year. However, I have also learned that I have had little trust. When we trust God with our lives, than we really have no need to worry about our life or our death or those around us. Sometimes it is hard. Especially when things don't turn out the way we want, but in the end He knows what is best for us, though we may not always see that at first.

It Is Finished!!!

Hey, Hey, Hey:

The first draft of the entire book is finished. Now for the fun part. Fixing it and pulling it all together.

Let's do the happy dance together. Woot! Woot!

Almost there

I just started chapter 24. Some of you may not know what that means, and some of you might not care, but to the chosen few, it means that I've started the last chapter of my book. The work in progress for the past three years. Why three? Well, I'm not very good at multi-tasking and two years ago I had another son and last year was one fraught with disaster. We survived and my hope is renewed. I really hope to get this chapter done this week. My goal for 2009 = Introduce it to a publisher and/or agent.
Here's hoping. (BTW: this photo is not mine. I got it off the net. But he is a great representation of one of the characters in my book. I guess you'll have to read it to find out which one.)

Ramblings

Well, I'd already messed up writing every Monday. I missed last week, but not very many people, if any are following this, so this is more like a public diary than a blog that people actually want to read.

It is Spring Break here in our house and I'm going to haul the youngin' down to Trenton for a couple of days. I'm going to go insane either way, so I might as well do it with my sister. I finished the climax of my book last week. I was pretty excited about that. I think I might have two maybe just one chapter left. It all depends on how wordy I get in the wrap-up chapter. Well, no real insights today. My brain is kinda mushy from having all three children here. Though we did take a shopping trip to Pat Catan's for them to get new web kinz. They'd saved their money for about six weeks.

Perhaps next week I'll have some more exciting news.

Spring and Kitties

I know that I don't always write here. I do on my other page some. Life just seems a little off skew right now. I don't usually write because I don't feel witting, but alas I guess that's no real reason to leave you at bay. I think I'll make a commitment to write at least once a week. I will call this my "spring resolution", since I've already failed my New Year ones. Who knows, perhaps blogging will help my creativity to flow once again? Or, I may just have to wait until my tiny tot gets out of the stage he's in. Which happens to be in-to everything and climbing if he can.

One time a blogged about my cats. At the time they were Sammy and Charlie Brown. Well, Charlie, who was a kitten when we got him, is more to handle than I could manage. We got him declawed and fixed in hopes that he'd calm down. After two months he was still biting Sammy in attack mode. Poor Sammy took to hiding all day and maybe peeking out to get a lick of water and a bite of food. I've come to believe that the reason he made messes is because the "bully" C.B. wouldn't let him use the litter boxes. In the end, we had to make a choice. We thought that C.B. would be able to better adjust to a new home then old Sumo Sammy.

Within a week, out fat cat became a different cat. Sammy was more social and loving. I think he was just thanking us for taking the thorn out of his side (or the bite off his buttukee). Two weeks after that we got a new kitty and named her Kaylea. She so soft an cuddly. The cutest thing was the day she jumped up in the window beside Sammy and licked him on the forehead while he was sleeping. He opened one eye to see what was going on and then closed it again. She then curled up next to him. Yeah, I imagine he thinks life is much better now.

It's a good thing he's been altered, and she will too. The last thing we need is a batch of kittens. Well, I guess it's not the last thing, but it is low on our list.

I'm Back, for now.

I know, it's been far to long and if anyone is still interested in what I might have to say, thanks for hanging in there. Life is an interesting if not tough journey. There are days when I feel like I'm going to fly apart from all the chaos that stomps through, and then there are times of peace and tranquility. It isn't exactly tranquil right at this moment, but it is quite. The twins are at school, after a two hour delay, and Nate, after fighting it for an hour and a half, is finally sleeping. It figures that on a day I'm really committed to writing, he picks that day to fight a nap, and if anybody knows, that is rare. He usually goes right down. But, none-the-less I got a page written for a story that the Writer's Club is working on. After that, I opened up Chapter 22 to write on it and all the wind went out of my sail. I do have written "Chapter 22: A Time To..." At least that's a start.
Christmas was good to us this year. Rick was able to take a week off from work and we spent most of that week with his family. Yes, I'm truly into studying the Chaos Theory. What better way than to spend time with ones family. We had an early Christmas with my side of the family, so Christmas day seemed strange. I'm use to spending Christmas Eve with my family and that's more chaos than anyone should study, so in actuality, Rick's family isn't that chaotic.
Our New Year's Eve was rather quite and uneventful. Nate went to bed at his usual time and the Twins were allowed to stay up to watch the ball drop. Lisa had an added bonus because the Jonas Bothers played three songs and she got to watch a mini concert and tell me how she'd like to go to see them for real. I guess, someday, I'll totally loose my sanity, and then I'll take her.
I am only a few days away from mid-life, if you assume that old age starts when you're 70. My birthday is coming up. Let me know you're thinking of me and wish me happy birthday next time you see me. FYI: it's this Sunday.