My New Normal

At church we have been talking about our "New Normal". It has been a crazy year. We are trying to adjust and learn to function. As someone who struggles with change sometimes, this hasn't been easy.

I embarked on a new chapter in my life. While some people have known for awhile, or have found out recently, others have had no idea.

6 weeks ago, I moved out on my own. Sometimes marriages don't work, and despite the fact that we are told as Christians that we need to make it work, I have learned that it's just not always for the best.

I have no intention of airing dirty laundry. That is not the point of my post. The boys will always be the top priority and they have adjusted so well almost right from the start. 

While 2020 has been a struggle, it's also become an adventure. I absolutely love my new home. God knew exactly what His plan was for me long before I did and worked it out perfectly. When I called about a rental, they didn't have what I wanted, but instead ended up having exactly what I needed! I live close to work. My street is SO quiet! I have wonderful neighbor's (and no more hoard house next to me!).

My parents drove over to help me move. I also had some great friends from my Life Group at church who brought trucks and vans and manpower. The move went flawlessly and within 24 hours my place went from a house, to a home. I chose to stay in Taylorville because I wanted the boys to still be able to have both parents in their lives, and honestly as much as I hated it when I moved here 11 years ago, Taylorville has become home. I have friends, a church family and a job that I love (and that I hope I get to do this year).

Speaking of church. I struggled going back. The weekend I moved, Calvary started back up, and while a few people knew, I felt like I would be looked at differently. The next weekend I decided I would go. The boys were with Jacob, and it was my first time without them. I ended up being a huge ball of emotions that week. A lot of stress and other personal struggles all caught up to me. I had spent all day Saturday crying, talking to my sister and crying some more. I couldn't bring myself to go to church. I was so afraid I'd go in and everyone would ask me where the boys were and I'd just break down crying...and I do not like people seeing me cry! 

Last week I finally decided it was time. I was starting to get back into daily devotions on my Bible app and felt like it was time to go back. It felt SO good to be "home". I'm so thankful for my church. I can't wait to get back to singing on worship team sometime soon!

I think the strangest part of my new normal has been adjusting to the boys being gone for a few days at a time. Besides the few times Daniel has spent a week at my parent's by himself, I've really never been away from the boys. I craved it. Not that I don't love my kids, but it turns out that if you're an introvert, you still need alone time...even from your kids. But, that first night that I dropped them off, I drove away crying. A sweet friend reached out to me and asked me how I was holding up without the boys. I told her how sad I was, and how now that I have this free time, I miss them like crazy! She was quick to tell me that every momma has those same moments. 

I've quickly adjusted though. I love when they are here, but I'm learning to love my down time. Some days I'm productive. Other days I binge Netflix in my pajamas and eat ice cream. This week I need to tackle some stuff at work...again in hopes that we have school!

So while most of 2020 has been a gigantic flaming pile of dog poop, I'm also thankful because I have a whole new part of my life to begin to write. I'm working on becoming a little more outgoing. I've been making an effort to reach out to others, to get together with a friend from time to time, and I've even had friends over. While there is still plenty of uncertainty and anxiety, I also know God has something in store for me and while I want to know how everything will go, I'm going to TRY to be patient, which is not my strong point. 

So, here's to new normals!

Take Me Back

Do you ever have a smell or hear something that instantly takes you back?

Summer is by far my least favorite season, but as a kid, I loved it! Summer meant freedom!

This past week the boys have been having fun playing outside in the the sprinkler and spraying each other with water. A lot of times I set up my lounge chair in the sun, grab a book and some water and let the boys play. I sprayed some sunscreen on myself the other day and the coconut smell sent me back to the early 90's. My mom would lay out in the driveway while we ran through the sprinkler or played in our little pool. She'd be all slathered in oil and engrossed in her romance novels, as we ran and played to our heart's content.

Of course, once I started down memory lane, other summer memories came flooding back to me.

We rarely did big "exciting" things. That doesn't mean we were bored though. Somehow Mom made summers so much fun. It really is the little things that mean the most and make the best memories.

Most summers we had a pool pass and spent just about every afternoon at the Cherry Hill pool. Mom would sit and tan, or watch Kendra in the baby pool, and would send Erica and I off to go do our thing...which was usually holding our breath underwater, yelling underwater and trying to guess what the other said, or doing flips and handstands to "impress" the lifeguards. Rarely did we get money for the concession stand, but we could always count on mom to sneak in some fruit snacks or granola bars for us.

We spent countless hours outside. In fact, many times we'd get banished to the outdoors for awhile! I miss those days. The ones where kids could be kids. We'd just take off on our bikes and ride through the neighborhood. We'd ride up to the park and play for awhile. I had a basket on my bike for the sole purpose of collecting pop cans to turn in for money.

I can remember being so sweaty and gross, but not caring at all. (How I wish that were still true!) I LOVED bath nights in the summer because it meant going to bed with wet hair, and it felt so nice and cool. I had the best room in the house too, because mine was in the basement...so even when mom and dad were too cheap to turn the air on, my room was still cool.

There were nights where Mom and Dad would go out on the deck at night and us girls would be watching TV inside. A lot of times though, I was drawn out to the deck. Then we'd all end up out there listening to the cicadas, while we talked and a laughed.

Summers ALWAYS meant a trip to Adventureland. Always. If you grow up in Iowa, you go. That was usually our big summer adventure. I was a big rider, so dad and I would go on all of the fast rides, while Erica and Kendra were with mom. Erica would always get motion sick. Usually we'd spend the first part of the day all together riding things we could all ride. Lunch was always in the parking lot. Mom would bring a picnic and we'd eat and rest. Then we'd split up for awhile. That was always my favorite because I got have dad to myself. We of course always had to go to the magic show too, and then play games. I was the Skee-Ball queen. Remember the money I collected from pop cans? That was my spending money!
I think next year we're finally going to take the boys and I'm so excited! I haven't been there since 2011, and I was pregnant with Daniel and couldn't ride anything.

We went to the library every week and did the reading program. I read SO much and loved getting the prizes. No summer was complete without getting to ride the city bus downtown with our neighbors at least once. We'd eat at the "fancy" McDonalds and then walk to the library. It was a big deal to us!

My sisters and I also loved that mom was a sucker for eating out. Dad...not so much. Summers worked out great for us. We'd rotate between McDonalds, Burger King, Hardees, Taco John's and Subway. And those REALLY lucky days we'd get lunch AND ice cream at DQ or get to go to the mall and eat at our beloved Chick-fil-A. Mom would tell us, "Do not tell your dad we ate out again today, or we can't do it again!" Our lips were forever sealed.

For a couple of summers we spent hours at church. Mom was the custodian, and we would get dragged along to help. I got stuck with trash duty and vacuuming a lot. Usually after that, she'd get sick of our "help" and send us off to wreak havoc on the church. (I mean...she didn't know what we were actually doing most of the time. It was a big church and she'd have killed us if she knew half of the stuff we pulled. LOL!) Erica and I had our SHS (Secret Hiding Spot) that we'd run to when we were either trying to escape Kendra or hide from mom giving us more jobs like picking up all the crap left in the sanctuary from Sunday. (No joke..some old guy used to clip his fingernails during church and leave them!).
We also held "wheelchair races". Still feel slightly bad for the dent I put in a door because Erica rammed me into it. We also may or may not have gotten into the VBS cookie stash a time or two. Such well behaved little church kids.

I could probably come up with a hundred more memories. I just hope that the boys will look back on their childhood the same way. We can't afford to go to Disney or some big fancy vacation too often, but we make our own adventures frequently!

Put On A Happy Face

I've talked about anxiety on my posts before and I have found that opening up about it on Facebook has lead to many good discussions with others who face the same challenges. I realized something recently though. A lot of times when you look things up about anxiety, it almost always brings up the topic of depression as well. They can go hand in hand. In fact, the medicine I take for anxiety is also one that is frequently used to treat depression as well.

While I know I've struggled with anxiety since I was in middle school, I didn't realize I needed actual help until after I had Daniel, and it got even worse. I couldn't even sleep because I was convinced he would stop breathing, or that someone was going to climb through a window and kidnap him.

What I have realized though, is that although I've never sought a diagnosis, I have been depressed. Twice now, in just the past year. I've joked about it, but then passed it off as anxiety (which some of it was!). In my mind, depression is sadness, wanting to die, or not being able to function at all. What I've learned is that just like with anxiety, there are different many ways that it can manifest.

Not every symptom is going to relate to every person. That middle part there, though? That's totally me. I've never wanted to die, but I've wanted to just disappear into complete solitude before.

I tend to have what I've seen referenced as "high functioning" or "smiling" depression. I'm the girl who can be literally falling apart on the inside, and smiling and cracking jokes on the outside. I'm the girl who can be hurt, but hold it together until I can be alone just so I can lose it. I never want to be a burden. I don't always want to share my heart. You have to be in my "inner circle" to reach that point (and not many people make it there). I don't like to ask for help and I have trouble accepting it...yet for some reason I love helping others.

For me, thankfully, it is not a constant in my life. I'm sure the medication helps with that somewhat.

I'll share one of my two experiences and I'll try to condense it so it doesn't get long.

Last summer I was stressed, and depressed. I had all of these fun plans for the summer. Exciting activities and day trips planned with the boys. A trip to Minnesota. Fun times at the pool.

As you all remember, our basement flooded with poop. TWICE. This wasn't the first, second or even third time this had happened over the years and was a problem that had been "fixed" twice. The flooding happened in a one week span. I hosed and bleached the entire basement. Got rid of ruined items from the first go round, only to get slammed even worse the following week. Hours, upon hours of hard labor, sweat, anger and tears were had. I felt like I didn't have all the support I needed, but I also felt like a burden asking. The second time we lost so many things including the Christmas tree (I know that seems silly, but you gotta remember my love for Christmas), books, clothes and washing machine. I spent hours doing laundry at the church parsonage, and a few times, I would just sit there and stare at a wall while I was waiting and wonder WHY? Why me?

Literally in the middle of that week between flood one and two, I made a horrific discovery. This is the first time I'm sharing about it because I was SCARRED. I still am. For weeks Daniel was getting bug bites, which seems normal, right? He was playing baseball and outside a lot. Then James started getting them too. I decided maybe it was a weird rash and took them to the doctor who very sympathetically looked at me and said, "I think those might be bed bug bites." BED BUG BITES. Besides losing my children, this was my worst nightmare. I came home and started tearing their bedroom apart looking. And then I saw it. A shell of one on the bottom of Daniel's mattress. I. Fell. Apart. I completely lost it. I went into a huge panic attack and couldn't breath.

Very long story short, it was a 6 week battle with those beasts. Daily trips up and down the stairs with bedding and curtains in trash bags and getting thrown in the dryer on high heat. Constant searching. I bought a steamer and steamed the crap out of everything. I had Orkin out many times. The boys clothes were organized into bins in the dining room and stored in ziploc bags because I was too scared to use their dressers. I was paranoid to go anywhere for fear that we'd pass them on even though I triple checked everything all the time. Even after the 90 day "all clear" it took me another 3 months to put things back in their room. To this day I don't know where they came from, but I struggle with second hand now, and I get paranoid when I go anywhere that someone else might have them and I'll bring them home.

Anyway...so between 2 floods and bed bugs my mind was on auto pilot. We canceled our trip to Minnesota. I had my final battle with Roto Rooter. The basement floor got dug up and I decided to take a stand at a streets and sewers meeting (which was very nerve wrecking!).

I wasn't sleeping well. I was eating my feelings. I had no time for bike rides. The boys weren't getting to do anything fun because I was constantly doing laundry and cleaning. I was laying in bed as late as I could in the mornings because I didn't want to face whatever was coming at me.

But, you better believe, when I'd run into someone at the store, I'd slap a big ol' smile on my face and joke about my problems. I'd go to church and stand on the stage and smile as I sang. I'd hug everyone and when they'd ask me how I was, I would answer with the, "I'm fine!" or "Hanging in there!" and then I'd sit down and think, "If you only knew that by hanging in there, I mean I'm literally hanging on by a thread."

Thankfully, God pulled me out of the pit. It's so easy as Christians to just say, "Trust in God and everything will work out". Sure, it's logical, but try telling a person with anxiety and depression that, and it really just makes it worse at times because then you feel like you're failing in your faith as well. I know God can work things out. I mean, at my all time low is when I got a text out of the blue asking me if I'd be interested in teaching preschool. After that I started to feel like I had a purpose again, and things started looking up.

Life isn't easy. Like I said, I've gone through another round that I'll maybe share at another time. I'm not fully out of it, but I'm working on myself. Note to self: When you pick "Strength" as your Word of the Year, ya best be prepared for what God is about to throw at you.

Just remember to love others. Be kind. You really don't know what anyone is facing in their lives. Reach out. Sometimes people don't want to share, but it's nice to know that someone is thinking about them. And remember to love yourself as well.