Keep Playing

Rejection is not so bad. Sure, I wished I'd beaten the odds and had gotten an acceptance my first try. Isn't that why people play the lottery? To beat the odds? I actually find that my first rejection wasn't as painful as I thought it would be. Perhaps it's because I had prepared myself mentally. I know what the statistics are and what my chances would be. I rolled the dice anyway. You can't win if you don't play. I'm going to play, and I'm going to keep playing until I win. And then, I'm going to play so more.

The Package has been sent.

I'm wavering between relief and being so nervous that I want to throw up. I've researched and researched so more. I've written and re-written and still think it could be re-written again. But, at some point you have to bite the bullet and take the plunge. I finally wrote my query, have my synopsis ready and my book is done. I sent out my query today. Statistically, I should be receiving a rejection soon. But, like people who play the lottery, I believe that someone has to win. Why can't that be me? So, I'm hoping for an immediate acceptance. Hey, it is possible. Think positive. "I think I can. I think I can. I think I can. I think I can...."

The Long Cold Darkness Has Ended

I firmly believe that the long cold darkness is coming to an end, and no, I'm not really talking about the weather. For my family the past year and a half or so has been pretty rough, both physically (with several broken body parts) and emotionally (loss of family pet, job related issues, OCD). The amount of stress that we were under seemed almost unbearable on some days. Honestly, my faith was shaken. I never doubted that God existed, I just wasn't sure how he felt about me. But, I never gave in. I searched for answers and sought him. God is definitely big enough to handle it when we ask "Why?"

Through the long dark hours of not being able to see and wondering if things were going to work out right, I found that God, my savior, was with me the whole time. With all that happened, the silver lining showed me that things could have been worse. When I fell down my steps and broke my ankle, I wasn't carrying my 9 month old. When I twisted my other ankle, I didn't fall of the roof. When Ben broke his leg, it was a clean break and he didn't have any internal injuries. Not to mention all the additional stress in other aspects of our lives which I will not go into publically here.

My daughter is a huge fan of Hannah Montana and the new movie came out last year. In it was a song "The Climb" and it totally defined my life. One line really spoke to me "Keep the Faith". Now I know this was not ment to be a religious song but God can speak to me through anything. This song gave me hope to ride the storm through to the end. God often speaks to me this way through everyday ordinary things.

As the New Year turned, peace came over me and I felt the Lord speaking to my spirit telling me that the long night has passed. I often hear others asking "Why do bad things happen to good people?" A friend once told me, "the rain falls on the good and the bad alike. There is no distinction." Do I wish that these things would have passed us by and my family had been left alone? You bet ya! However, I have learned and have a better understanding of my faith. I was often reminded of Job and my husband often referred to Joseph. When I read these stories, I discovered that they both had happy endings.

Happy New Year?

I hope you had a great New Year's Eve. My daughter, Lisa, had ours planned out from 9pm-midnight. She's my planner. Both her and Ben get really excited that day because it's the one day we let them stay up so late. I don't know why she picked 9 o'clock to start the festivities, but that is what it was. From 9 until 9:30 we played Hide and Seek. Have you ever played with a two year old? There is no place you can hide. We all took our turns being it. Nate was the last one. It's was so cute as he counted "4, 5, 4, 5, 4, 5, 9 ready not here come." Yep that's how he counts. Of course we picked easy hiding places, but I think he would have found us anyway.

From 9:30 - 10 we drew New Year's Eve posters. We got out the markers and paper and everyone participated. Nate made Lisa's poster very colorful. When it comes to Nate she has endless amount of patients; when it comes to Ben, not so much.

From 10 - 11 was Wii time. We put Nate to bed and the others played Wii Sports, mostly bowling and then some tennis. We only have three remotes so I didn't play, but I did watch.

At 11, we turned on the TV. It took some convincing for Lisa that the one with Dick Clark didn't come on 'til 11:30, but she wasn't satisfied. That didn't work with her schedule. I can't blame her. I know what it's like to have your scheduled messed up and it's not fun. She finally adjusted and we watched the ball drop.

The twins went to bed (Yeah, that was in her schedule too) and Rick and I stayed up until about 2:30. Here is were no amount of planning can help. At 3:30 Nate woke up throwing up. This lasted every 20 or 30 minutes until about 9. Needless to say our New Year didn't start out very well. Rick took care of Nate the most because I almost throw up at the sight and smell of someone else's vomit.

Poor Rick, 6:30am the next morning was his turn. Lisa and Ben did the twin synchronizing thing and started in the afternoon of the 2nd. I did my best to withstand, but I succumbed the next day. Needless to say, our New Year weekend sucked. I enjoyed New Year's Eve, but the New Year, not so much.

Lisa and Ben threw up so much that their features turned ghostly white. Lisa gets it the worst. Whenever she gets a virus like this, it doesn't want to let her go. She is still having troubles today, while the rest of us have mostly recovered. Nate still doesn't have an appetite, and Ben doesn't have much of one either. But I think the worst is over. Happy New Year anyone?

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.