I went to a new church today. Yes, I finally did. I put aside thinking about the boxes, the laundry, and whatever else needed to be seen to (like I've been doing...so this is also me...procrastinating).
I fully anticipated that I would be miserable for an hour or longer, and never go back, but, hey...you never know. I went because the family that invited me is a family I have known and loved for years. I didn't want to say no. Yeah, I'm a softie like that.
The last time I took the kids and looked for a church, we went to one that had an awesome preacher, but *no one* spoke to us before or after the service. No one. I went a few more Sundays, because I really did like the preacher, but after never being spoken to, I knew that this was not the church home that I wanted or needed. I needed a church body that was interactive, that welcomed in new people, that had activities for my children, and so on. I went to a few other churches, and they were OK, but nothing great, and not what I was looking for. I
Fast forward a few years...yeah...a few years, and today, I went to church. I beliefe tht before I left there, every single person in the place had shook my hand and welcomed me to their place of worship. EVERY PERSON. That would be clue number one that this was a church that might possibly qualify as a "return to" status.
Next, there was singing....funny how you can go for years without hearing those songs, yet you can stand there and sing every word, no book needed, and I did so with a smile on my face. That would be clue number 2.
As I was listening to what the guy up front had to say, I found myself digging in my purse for something to write on and something to write with, so I could take notes. Yes, I took notes, because he said things I didn't want to forget, and quoted verses that I wanted to go back and read. He held my attention, and when I wasn't paying attention...I was counting the kids in the place and thinking how fun it would be to "play" with kids again...thus fulfilling my desire to teach. Clue number 3.
All day long, I've thought about that hour, and I've recapped it in my brain over and over again, and I'm excited to go back next week. I am *finally* excited again to go to church. That would be the last and final clue...clue number 4.
Soooo, friends, I've found a place that has "revisit status", and looks like a very likely potential winner. :)
After church, I went to this family's house and had Sunday dinner with them. It was so nice to be immersed in a family that loves, talks, and laughs, a family that enjoys being together and is a normal, functioning family. The food was good, but the company was better! Best part is...if I go back to church, then I can go back to Sunday dinner and be a part of this family environment...so I think I shall go...and I look forward to many more services and Sunday dinners, because both were places I think I can call "home".
Happy Sunday, ya'll!
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Thursday, July 19, 2012
This is me....rattled.
Yes, rattled. There's good and ther'es bad...and I'm sure there's ugly thrown into the mix as well...just for good measure.
You know how we pray, and we ask God to help us with the things we need, and he does, but not in the manner we were expecting? Yeah. Not that any of you would be surprised that I would be in that situation or anything...but here I am. It's a mixed blessing. It's a sad story, but I hope with a happy ending.
It seems that throughout my life, as I have blogged about before, I have been put here on the face of this earth to care for others, to help others, to share my happiness with others. I'm going to be very honest: it's not an easy task, and there are times that I'm thinking,"Really, God???? You REALLY want me to do this? Because I dunno if my heart and mind are up to the task..." But then, I hear so many people tell me that I am strong and that I can do anything, and somehow, I muddle my way through the days, and I make it, and I would like to think that in the end, help and care has been given. I have a lot of love, and I have a very big heart when it comes to caring. It's probably too big, sometimes, if that's possible, because it gets broken here and there...some breaks, as with any fracture...are bigger than others and hurt more than others. And some (if not all) just make you stronger in the end. I'm hoping that's the case with the task that has been layed out in front of me this evening...but I'm game to take it on and see how God will work through me to make a difference in this life that is so valuable to me.
All that being said, I would like to ask for many prayers for this broken person who needs so very much love and care and a purpose for living, for God to direct me in the manner and direction in which I should go, and that in the process, lives will be blessed and changed forever, for the better. Maybe this is His way of keeping me from concentrating on my own hurts, for this case makes my hurts seem like tiny ones...so yes, prayers, please.
I am exhausted. I will write more tomorrow....thank you for your prayers in advance, friends of mine!
Hey...tomorrow i s Fa-RIIIIIIII-dayyyyY!
You know how we pray, and we ask God to help us with the things we need, and he does, but not in the manner we were expecting? Yeah. Not that any of you would be surprised that I would be in that situation or anything...but here I am. It's a mixed blessing. It's a sad story, but I hope with a happy ending.
It seems that throughout my life, as I have blogged about before, I have been put here on the face of this earth to care for others, to help others, to share my happiness with others. I'm going to be very honest: it's not an easy task, and there are times that I'm thinking,"Really, God???? You REALLY want me to do this? Because I dunno if my heart and mind are up to the task..." But then, I hear so many people tell me that I am strong and that I can do anything, and somehow, I muddle my way through the days, and I make it, and I would like to think that in the end, help and care has been given. I have a lot of love, and I have a very big heart when it comes to caring. It's probably too big, sometimes, if that's possible, because it gets broken here and there...some breaks, as with any fracture...are bigger than others and hurt more than others. And some (if not all) just make you stronger in the end. I'm hoping that's the case with the task that has been layed out in front of me this evening...but I'm game to take it on and see how God will work through me to make a difference in this life that is so valuable to me.
All that being said, I would like to ask for many prayers for this broken person who needs so very much love and care and a purpose for living, for God to direct me in the manner and direction in which I should go, and that in the process, lives will be blessed and changed forever, for the better. Maybe this is His way of keeping me from concentrating on my own hurts, for this case makes my hurts seem like tiny ones...so yes, prayers, please.
I am exhausted. I will write more tomorrow....thank you for your prayers in advance, friends of mine!
Hey...tomorrow i s Fa-RIIIIIIII-dayyyyY!
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
This is me....thinking in 5-year increments.
I always seem to tell a lot of stories...my school kids always seemed to enjoy them, and I seem to tell them here, too. Usually, it's because they mean something to me in some form or fashion, or I would not remember them, to be truthful.
I know that I've already written a post today; trust you me...I'm well aware that I wrote that post...it was a rough day, just like I said. But a i was sitting here now, pondering...well...I dunno what I was pondering....just pondering...I was led back in time to my second (and last) year of high school.
I tend to start a lot of sentences with, "I remember..." and this story is no exceptionto that rule.
I remember her voice. It was soooo annoying. Her name was Mrs. Swanson. But it was said through her nose, Swaaaaaaaaaaanson. She took over our class because our teacher was deathly ill. It was typing class, and she would repeat the letters as we typed them..."a...s...d...f...j...k..l...." you get the idea. No one really liked her.
I'm not sure why, but I was outside one day, I suppose waiting on my bus, and I was very upset and she could tell. She came to me, sat down beside me, and asked me if I could tell her what was wrong. Then I cried. And cried. And cried some more. I finally explained to her that I had a "C" on my report card, in Physical Science. It wasn't because I didn't try, but I knew I was going to get in trouble. A "C" is as good as an "F" in the eyes of my parents. I already didn't get to do much, and I wanted to still be able to do the few things I was allowed to do.
She put her hand on my knee, and very softly, she said, "Honey..I've gotten myself through a lot of situations by asking myself just one simple question." And so I looked up at her, expectantly, I suppose, and she said "I'll share it with you if you'd like...?" And so I nodded my head, and she said,"Abby, in 5 years, FIVE years from now, will this "C" on your report card matter?" And so I started thinking about that and decided that in the long run, a "C" wasn't so bad, there could be a lot worse.
Throughout my life, in many different circumstances, I have used that question. When I was pregnant...the devastaion of my family and friends wouldn't be there in five years, or at least I hoped! When I was in college, working full time, and going to school full time, I knew there was an end in sight...in five years, all that work will have paid off and I would have more time with my kids, and waaayyyy less times with my books.
Trying to find a job....in five years, is it going to be OK? Will we have eaten and paid our bills? Yes, somehow, we would. Learning this new job...in five years, will I be a pro like the other girls are? With everything going on with Mark, or the lack thereof, the pain, the ache, the sorrow...I know that in five years, that will have subsided. I don't think it could ever go away, but I do believe that time makes things better. I can't think of other examples right now, really, but I've asked myself that question at least a zillion times since that day in my Sophomore year of high school.
There's no telling where I'll be in five years; what I'll be doing. Will I be here, at MGM, knowing everything there is to know about windows? Will I be single? What car will I drive? Will I still be living in my little white house? In five years, my kids will be...well...five years older. It will be interesting to see where life takes them...what kind of a job they will have...if they will stick with what they are doing, or will they decide to do something else?
So, as I sit and think of all that has happened to me in the last five years, I see God's hand gently guiding me every step of the way, and I know He will continue to guide me for the next five years as well.
Try it...think about how important things are, especially when you are upset....because this, too, shall pass.
I know that I've already written a post today; trust you me...I'm well aware that I wrote that post...it was a rough day, just like I said. But a i was sitting here now, pondering...well...I dunno what I was pondering....just pondering...I was led back in time to my second (and last) year of high school.
I tend to start a lot of sentences with, "I remember..." and this story is no exceptionto that rule.
I remember her voice. It was soooo annoying. Her name was Mrs. Swanson. But it was said through her nose, Swaaaaaaaaaaanson. She took over our class because our teacher was deathly ill. It was typing class, and she would repeat the letters as we typed them..."a...s...d...f...j...k..l...." you get the idea. No one really liked her.
I'm not sure why, but I was outside one day, I suppose waiting on my bus, and I was very upset and she could tell. She came to me, sat down beside me, and asked me if I could tell her what was wrong. Then I cried. And cried. And cried some more. I finally explained to her that I had a "C" on my report card, in Physical Science. It wasn't because I didn't try, but I knew I was going to get in trouble. A "C" is as good as an "F" in the eyes of my parents. I already didn't get to do much, and I wanted to still be able to do the few things I was allowed to do.
She put her hand on my knee, and very softly, she said, "Honey..I've gotten myself through a lot of situations by asking myself just one simple question." And so I looked up at her, expectantly, I suppose, and she said "I'll share it with you if you'd like...?" And so I nodded my head, and she said,"Abby, in 5 years, FIVE years from now, will this "C" on your report card matter?" And so I started thinking about that and decided that in the long run, a "C" wasn't so bad, there could be a lot worse.
Throughout my life, in many different circumstances, I have used that question. When I was pregnant...the devastaion of my family and friends wouldn't be there in five years, or at least I hoped! When I was in college, working full time, and going to school full time, I knew there was an end in sight...in five years, all that work will have paid off and I would have more time with my kids, and waaayyyy less times with my books.
Trying to find a job....in five years, is it going to be OK? Will we have eaten and paid our bills? Yes, somehow, we would. Learning this new job...in five years, will I be a pro like the other girls are? With everything going on with Mark, or the lack thereof, the pain, the ache, the sorrow...I know that in five years, that will have subsided. I don't think it could ever go away, but I do believe that time makes things better. I can't think of other examples right now, really, but I've asked myself that question at least a zillion times since that day in my Sophomore year of high school.
There's no telling where I'll be in five years; what I'll be doing. Will I be here, at MGM, knowing everything there is to know about windows? Will I be single? What car will I drive? Will I still be living in my little white house? In five years, my kids will be...well...five years older. It will be interesting to see where life takes them...what kind of a job they will have...if they will stick with what they are doing, or will they decide to do something else?
So, as I sit and think of all that has happened to me in the last five years, I see God's hand gently guiding me every step of the way, and I know He will continue to guide me for the next five years as well.
Try it...think about how important things are, especially when you are upset....because this, too, shall pass.
Monday, July 16, 2012
This is me....entertaining myself.
Let's see what I can come up with this go-round:
1. I've been married twice, but I've never had a wedding and I've never been proposed to. (That one oughtta keep ya pondering for a while.)
2. I can't name a favorite color any more...I love them all.
3. I love words.
4. Being at home alone has it's rewards when it's supper time. Two words: ice cream.
5. I still want to travel the world, and walk across the United States.
6. I can never have more children.
7. I can love a lot more children...but can't bare them.
8. In my mind, I'm still twenty-something, but my body is actually more like 60-something. NO wonder I'm not good at math.
9. I want to tutor adult students again, and ESL students.
10. My days tend to be very, very good, or very, very bad.
11. I'm generally not lonely when I am alone.
12. I like coming home to Leo. I wouldn't like coming home to nothing.
13. I trace over words that I write several times before I call them "done."
14. I have more initials than anyone I know....if you know me well, you will understand this.
15. Since I didn't sleep last night, I'm way sleepy.
1. I've been married twice, but I've never had a wedding and I've never been proposed to. (That one oughtta keep ya pondering for a while.)
2. I can't name a favorite color any more...I love them all.
3. I love words.
4. Being at home alone has it's rewards when it's supper time. Two words: ice cream.
5. I still want to travel the world, and walk across the United States.
6. I can never have more children.
7. I can love a lot more children...but can't bare them.
8. In my mind, I'm still twenty-something, but my body is actually more like 60-something. NO wonder I'm not good at math.
9. I want to tutor adult students again, and ESL students.
10. My days tend to be very, very good, or very, very bad.
11. I'm generally not lonely when I am alone.
12. I like coming home to Leo. I wouldn't like coming home to nothing.
13. I trace over words that I write several times before I call them "done."
14. I have more initials than anyone I know....if you know me well, you will understand this.
15. Since I didn't sleep last night, I'm way sleepy.
This is me...trying to keep myself together.
Today = not so good.
The disciplinarian at the middle school said to me that something was "off" with one of our children when I spoke with him the last week of school. He wasn't sure what it was, or why, but he felt that something was just "off". He couldn't put his finger on it, he said, but something was not the way it should be. When I explained to him the situation at hand, he proclaimed something to the extent of, "I knew there was *something*!!!" almost as if to convince himself he really had not gone crazy...he was right, even though he didn't know why. You know that feeling, right? I know I do.
Today, I am having a not-so-good day, and I can't put my finger on why. I really can't. Out of the mouth of my ever-wise father: "Some days are just like that." Still doesn't make the day any better when you're the one not having a good one. My stomach hurts. I can't concentrate. I want to sleep. I didn't sleep last night, which must be multiplying the intensity of the "bad day" I'm having. I've thought about *him* entirely too much today. Again, I don't know particularly why. And if I were to be honest, no matter how "right" I know it is in my head that I will be better off, as everyone tells me, I can't make my heart believe it. And my heart aches.
You know how when you have been out in the bright, bright sun, and you go inside, and everything seems really dark? That's the way my world seems these days. Dark. Overshadowed. I wake in the morning, and my stomach tells my mind something isn't right; not normal. I don't belong in that bed, in that room, with no one beside me...so how did I get there? The day looms ahead...long, overshadowed hours to fill before I can return to the comfort and safety of my own home, my own dog, my own kids...my own four walls where I don't have to smile if I don't feel like it, and I don't have to concentrate on anything in particular. I can just sort of sit there, staring into space, thinking of nothing and everything all at once, and just be.
Now, "just being" is not the most favorable way to fill one's afternoon, evening, day, or week....preferably, "just being" isn't even a good way to spend an hour...unless you are "just being" with someone else, too. "Just being" has not gotten my boxes unpacked, nor has it gotten my laundry done. It is not a state of mind that is particularly healthy or wise, but one that we end up being in by no choice of our own. To be honest, "just being" is really pretty scary.
I know that I have any number of folks I can call, show up on their doorstep, invite over, ask questions, watch a movie with....the list goes on and on....but when the one person in the world you committed your love and devotion to doesn't want to spend his love and devotion being with you...well, let's just call it a blow to the ole ego. I ache. Ache to sit by him. Ache to feel secure. Ache to know that someone is going to be there when I get home, someone who loves me, just the way I am, who is looking for me to come home, too, for the same reasons. And then I ache extra because my brain remembers what my heart doesn't: there is no one at home who is waiting on me. No one to ask about my day. No one to sit beside, to smile at, to kiss hello, to "just be" in the healthy way that "just being" can be when two people are "just being" together. I ache because there is no one to curl up next to at night, no one who will let me stick my cold feet on their warm leg, no one's arm for me to loop mine through, no one to enjoy the last few minutes of the day with, before dozing off to Never Never Land.
While it seems a bit cliche to say so, the value of having children one has to take care of cannot be discounted. If it were not for the three best surprises of my life, I couldn't tell you where I would be. Couldn't tell you who I would be. What I would be. They make me who I am. They make me better. They make me a better person, they make me feel better, they make me want to be the best at what I do, because it is for them that I do what I do. They are at the center of my world, the center of my activities, my habits, my moods, my feelings, my thoughts....and one of them likes to be in the center of my bed, too. :) I do believe that tonight, I will see to it that my little Lucy Loo be wedged right up underneath me, just for a bit of extra love so as to insure good, sound sleep tonight, and start the day off on the right foot tomorrow.
The disciplinarian at the middle school said to me that something was "off" with one of our children when I spoke with him the last week of school. He wasn't sure what it was, or why, but he felt that something was just "off". He couldn't put his finger on it, he said, but something was not the way it should be. When I explained to him the situation at hand, he proclaimed something to the extent of, "I knew there was *something*!!!" almost as if to convince himself he really had not gone crazy...he was right, even though he didn't know why. You know that feeling, right? I know I do.
Today, I am having a not-so-good day, and I can't put my finger on why. I really can't. Out of the mouth of my ever-wise father: "Some days are just like that." Still doesn't make the day any better when you're the one not having a good one. My stomach hurts. I can't concentrate. I want to sleep. I didn't sleep last night, which must be multiplying the intensity of the "bad day" I'm having. I've thought about *him* entirely too much today. Again, I don't know particularly why. And if I were to be honest, no matter how "right" I know it is in my head that I will be better off, as everyone tells me, I can't make my heart believe it. And my heart aches.
You know how when you have been out in the bright, bright sun, and you go inside, and everything seems really dark? That's the way my world seems these days. Dark. Overshadowed. I wake in the morning, and my stomach tells my mind something isn't right; not normal. I don't belong in that bed, in that room, with no one beside me...so how did I get there? The day looms ahead...long, overshadowed hours to fill before I can return to the comfort and safety of my own home, my own dog, my own kids...my own four walls where I don't have to smile if I don't feel like it, and I don't have to concentrate on anything in particular. I can just sort of sit there, staring into space, thinking of nothing and everything all at once, and just be.
Now, "just being" is not the most favorable way to fill one's afternoon, evening, day, or week....preferably, "just being" isn't even a good way to spend an hour...unless you are "just being" with someone else, too. "Just being" has not gotten my boxes unpacked, nor has it gotten my laundry done. It is not a state of mind that is particularly healthy or wise, but one that we end up being in by no choice of our own. To be honest, "just being" is really pretty scary.
I know that I have any number of folks I can call, show up on their doorstep, invite over, ask questions, watch a movie with....the list goes on and on....but when the one person in the world you committed your love and devotion to doesn't want to spend his love and devotion being with you...well, let's just call it a blow to the ole ego. I ache. Ache to sit by him. Ache to feel secure. Ache to know that someone is going to be there when I get home, someone who loves me, just the way I am, who is looking for me to come home, too, for the same reasons. And then I ache extra because my brain remembers what my heart doesn't: there is no one at home who is waiting on me. No one to ask about my day. No one to sit beside, to smile at, to kiss hello, to "just be" in the healthy way that "just being" can be when two people are "just being" together. I ache because there is no one to curl up next to at night, no one who will let me stick my cold feet on their warm leg, no one's arm for me to loop mine through, no one to enjoy the last few minutes of the day with, before dozing off to Never Never Land.
While it seems a bit cliche to say so, the value of having children one has to take care of cannot be discounted. If it were not for the three best surprises of my life, I couldn't tell you where I would be. Couldn't tell you who I would be. What I would be. They make me who I am. They make me better. They make me a better person, they make me feel better, they make me want to be the best at what I do, because it is for them that I do what I do. They are at the center of my world, the center of my activities, my habits, my moods, my feelings, my thoughts....and one of them likes to be in the center of my bed, too. :) I do believe that tonight, I will see to it that my little Lucy Loo be wedged right up underneath me, just for a bit of extra love so as to insure good, sound sleep tonight, and start the day off on the right foot tomorrow.
Sunday, July 15, 2012
This is me...being confused.
So, last night was the night of the first big cook-out at the Perry residence since my disposal. I have several feelings about this, and I don't know if I can make them make sense, but I'm going to try.
First, one of the things that I loved about Mark in the beginning was that he welcomed people to his home, had a lot of friends, and was around people a lot. You have to remember, I was married to Mr. Uber Quiet, so this was a complete 360 from what I was used to, and I am a people person. (Or so I thought.
It didn't take me long to figure out that cookouts really weren't that great. It was costly, and took a lot of time to prepare for, and then even more to clean up. And....I had to spend all that time with people I didn't know, and really didn't have anything in common with. They started late, and ended even later....like in the middle of the night, when I should have been sleeping. The thing I think I hated the most is that he was happy with all of his friends around, but he forgot I was there. I am not a needy person, nor am I one that is all about PDA's. But really...you could remember I'm alive and that would be nice. I told him this over and over..."you ignore me"..."you forget I'm around"...etc, but it never sunk in. I was rarely, if ever, consulted about having one....if I was lucky, I would be told we were before someone else sent me a text and asked me what to bring to the cookout being held at my house that I didn't know about. So, yeah, it was a bitter spot for sure. His cookouts were to me, I suppose, like my store was to him. I didn't want to *never* have a cookout, but every weekend, or even every other weekend was a bit much in my books. I'm not home much, so when I am, I like to sit down and relax...not cook for and clean up after 75 people. I liked it when it was just the normal crew...about 10 of us, sitting around, "chewing the fat". But I didn't care one bit for the huge ones that lasted half the night. The longer I was there, though, the more familly-friendly they became and it was fun to see the kids show up with their kids, playing and having a good time. I liked having family dinners, with just the kids and grandkids...those were normally always planned with my prompting, not his. I guess now that I'm gone, it will be "Party City" again at 189 Rock House.
Since I just told you how much I didn't really like the cookouts, you would think I would be glad that I was able to be at home, by myself, last night....not partaking the "fun" that the now-tainted "Perry's Paradise" puts on. And yeah, on some level, I am relieved I wasn't there, but then, on the other hand, my heart is screaming at me..."BUT YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!!!!" "That's YOUR house and YOU BELONG THERE!!!!!" But really, really I don't. We all know this...right? But my silly little heart...it hasn't gotten the message. Neither has my pride. Boy, does it sting. Knowing his girls "got their way" when I left, that everyone was right when I swore they were wrong....yeah....that's pretty much a blow to my pride. And I really can't tell you why I care. That's the sad part. I guess it's a prime example of one wanting to have their cake and eat it too. Pride....it's not always the best thing to have. Especially when it stings. But this, too, shall pass....and I am on to bigger and better and brighter things, with people that I have a lot more in common with. Sure, they became my friends, too, on some level, and I will miss them, but life goes on...they will have their cookouts and hourseshoes and beer, and I will read a book, do some chatting with someone on the other side of the country that i have things in common with, and spend time with my children, and get to bed at a decent hour.
My mind says that I need to tell my heart to remember that THIS is my house now, and THIS is where I belong...on Pleasant Grove Road, in my little white house, made especially for me. THIS is a place where MY friends can come, people that I have things in common with, people that have fun without alcohol being involved, people that have fun bringing their kids, their family, and eating ice cream cones at the park. THAT is where this girl belongs...right? RIGHT!
I'm sure there will be other things that happen, things that are said, I dunno, that will sting here and there. I'm sure there will be instances that are awkward when I run into people I know from "Volume Two"...but it's nothing this girl can't handle...and so onward I will go, looking forward, not back, excited about a bright and promising future, not sad about a past that couldn't be what it needed to be. I'll stick with this quote: Fall down seven times, stand up eight. I shall continue to stand.
First, one of the things that I loved about Mark in the beginning was that he welcomed people to his home, had a lot of friends, and was around people a lot. You have to remember, I was married to Mr. Uber Quiet, so this was a complete 360 from what I was used to, and I am a people person. (Or so I thought.
It didn't take me long to figure out that cookouts really weren't that great. It was costly, and took a lot of time to prepare for, and then even more to clean up. And....I had to spend all that time with people I didn't know, and really didn't have anything in common with. They started late, and ended even later....like in the middle of the night, when I should have been sleeping. The thing I think I hated the most is that he was happy with all of his friends around, but he forgot I was there. I am not a needy person, nor am I one that is all about PDA's. But really...you could remember I'm alive and that would be nice. I told him this over and over..."you ignore me"..."you forget I'm around"...etc, but it never sunk in. I was rarely, if ever, consulted about having one....if I was lucky, I would be told we were before someone else sent me a text and asked me what to bring to the cookout being held at my house that I didn't know about. So, yeah, it was a bitter spot for sure. His cookouts were to me, I suppose, like my store was to him. I didn't want to *never* have a cookout, but every weekend, or even every other weekend was a bit much in my books. I'm not home much, so when I am, I like to sit down and relax...not cook for and clean up after 75 people. I liked it when it was just the normal crew...about 10 of us, sitting around, "chewing the fat". But I didn't care one bit for the huge ones that lasted half the night. The longer I was there, though, the more familly-friendly they became and it was fun to see the kids show up with their kids, playing and having a good time. I liked having family dinners, with just the kids and grandkids...those were normally always planned with my prompting, not his. I guess now that I'm gone, it will be "Party City" again at 189 Rock House.
Since I just told you how much I didn't really like the cookouts, you would think I would be glad that I was able to be at home, by myself, last night....not partaking the "fun" that the now-tainted "Perry's Paradise" puts on. And yeah, on some level, I am relieved I wasn't there, but then, on the other hand, my heart is screaming at me..."BUT YOU SHOULD HAVE BEEN THERE!!!!" "That's YOUR house and YOU BELONG THERE!!!!!" But really, really I don't. We all know this...right? But my silly little heart...it hasn't gotten the message. Neither has my pride. Boy, does it sting. Knowing his girls "got their way" when I left, that everyone was right when I swore they were wrong....yeah....that's pretty much a blow to my pride. And I really can't tell you why I care. That's the sad part. I guess it's a prime example of one wanting to have their cake and eat it too. Pride....it's not always the best thing to have. Especially when it stings. But this, too, shall pass....and I am on to bigger and better and brighter things, with people that I have a lot more in common with. Sure, they became my friends, too, on some level, and I will miss them, but life goes on...they will have their cookouts and hourseshoes and beer, and I will read a book, do some chatting with someone on the other side of the country that i have things in common with, and spend time with my children, and get to bed at a decent hour.
My mind says that I need to tell my heart to remember that THIS is my house now, and THIS is where I belong...on Pleasant Grove Road, in my little white house, made especially for me. THIS is a place where MY friends can come, people that I have things in common with, people that have fun without alcohol being involved, people that have fun bringing their kids, their family, and eating ice cream cones at the park. THAT is where this girl belongs...right? RIGHT!
I'm sure there will be other things that happen, things that are said, I dunno, that will sting here and there. I'm sure there will be instances that are awkward when I run into people I know from "Volume Two"...but it's nothing this girl can't handle...and so onward I will go, looking forward, not back, excited about a bright and promising future, not sad about a past that couldn't be what it needed to be. I'll stick with this quote: Fall down seven times, stand up eight. I shall continue to stand.
Friday, July 13, 2012
This is me...being real.
OK, so I'm real all the time, but since this post has multiple subjects, it was just easier to call it "being real".
Subject numero uno: May I just say that it amazes me how within MINUTES, LITERALLY MINUTES of changing my facebook status from "it's complicated" to "single" my fb inbox was flooded with messages from guys who just "happened" to say "hello" so very "innocently" as if I'm to stupid to put two and two together. Guys...make note of this: I DO have a brain. Not that it would take a huge amount of intelligence to put that together, but you must not realize that, or you would have been a bit more discreet. I will say this: there are about two of you, out of the dozen or so, that I understand really care, who I've spoken with on and off for forever, because we are friends anyways...and I'm not referring to you. You know who you are.
Subject numero dos: Boys and girls can be friends. Just friends. Certainly, it's possible!!! Yes, the paperwork says I'm still married. Unfortunately, because of the cost of changing that status, it's going to stay that way indefinitely. BUT...just because I want to go somewhere or do something doesn't mean I want to hop in the sack, be your girlfriend, or start drama. It is simply because I enjoy your company and thought we were *friends* and could do this. Apparently, I misjudged you. My bad. Most of my life, I have had friends that were boys, and they were better friends and confidants than the girls who were "friends" in my life. Until just recently, I've not had a lot of girlfriends, but more guy-friends...so it's odd to me that there are those of you who are...uncomfortable...???...with this. I'm chasing my tail, so I'll stop. Read what I mean, not what I say, OK?
Subject numero tres: The store. This is the real kicker of them all. And there is a lesson to be learned here, too. The lesson is this: SAY WHAT YOU MEAN. Don't expect that someone is going to infer what you mean when you are saying something totally different. We are humans, not mind-readers.
It's no secret that the store was a dream of mine that was able to come true, because I *thought* that my husband was behind me when we made the decision to give it a go. It seemed that God Himself literally plopped the store down in my lap, and said, "Here, Abs, take it and run with it! You can do it; you will go far!" I've always wanted to have a store...but I always wanted to run it with my sisters...which is hard to do when we are spread out in four different directions, at least 2 hours away from each other, again, in four different directions. Soooo, I had to strike out on my own, and enjoy it enough for all of us. Since both Mark and I loved to shop for neat things at yardsales, thrift store, antique stores, Goodwill...flea markets...you get the idea, we came up with a lot of one of a kind things that we didn't need, but just couldn't leave behind. My "engagement ring" was a building all of my own to store our finds in, and to house my crafting supplies and give me a place to create. Little did we know that we were preparing for the store with every weekend of yardsaling we did. When the store started to become a reality, we had plenty of "stock" and were still able to hold on to the things we loved and didn't want to part with. Mark's biggest collection was beer mugs, steins, and other liquer glasses, etc. Mine: pottery. There were a few other things here and there that we wanted to hold on to that we found and just couldn't part with, but for the most part, those things we found didn't hold any sentimental value, we just thought they were neat, so we got them, and into the store they went. Of course, as with any business, the beginning was slow, but slow and steady. And we all know about "slow and steady", right? It wins the race! :) There were times when Mark would say to me,"Now, Honey, you know that if the store doesn't pick up, we're going to have to do something different, right?" And I would reply with a nod of my head and a firm "Yes"....but then I would remind him that we weren't going to be rolling in customers and cash within our first year of business, let alone the first 6 months. That would be the end of the conversation until another time, when we would have the same one again. Verbatem. (SP? Too lazy right now to look it up. You know what I mean.) And so I would go to the store, and "work" and go home and report the day's buisness to the PiePie. He used to come after work before seeing his parents or after and sit in my patchwork chair that everyone loves, and say hi, give me a hello kiss, and then visit for a bit. That gradually happened less and less, and I guess, looking back, I should have taken note of that, but I didn't. You know what they say about hindsight. What I didn't know was that he was really resenting the store, and felt like I was taking advantage of him working so hard for us, when I was not making much money, and he, in his mind, had asked me numerous times to close the store and look for a job. Except, that conversation up there ^^^^^ is what was said, and I didn't deduct from it properly like he thought that I should. Miscommunication is a very bad thing. Sadly, it could be avoided a lot of the time...but sometimes, it takes looking back to see it. I'm certain that in the end...the end that could have been avoided...it was the store that made a huge dent in our otherwise happy marriage. I regret that I didn't understand what he meant, because had it come down to keeping the store or keeping my marriage, without question, hands down, in a heartbeat, I would have gladly picked my marriage. It makes me sad that he felt like I was picking it over him...that was so not the case. Another reason I was pleased to have the store was that with the hours I had, and being my own boss, I could take his parents to their various appointments, sit with them in the hospital when need be, and take care of them...a luxery that no one else in the family really had, so it worked for all of us. At any rate, I stumbled upon the fact that classes were a huge success. Who would have thought that Westmoreland wanted art classes? Not I...not in the magnitude that they did...but it's true...they were a big hit! Unfortunately, by the time I figured this out, PiePie's heart was not anywhere near interested in the goings on of the store; he resented it, I believe, is the right word. So even though I was helping to pay the bills at that point, he didn't care any longer. There were some other, smaller problems that could have been addressed and fixed, but what marriage doesn't have those? But with this one looming overhead...the smaller ones didn't really seem to matter so much, I guess. I will never understand what happened, or pretend to, because I don't have a clue, and it leaves me dumbfounded when I think about it, and since thinking about it doesn't change anything, what's the point? I'll take happier thoughts, please. The day that everything really came together, and the day that he told me he was done, done, done...we were at the store. He was cold. His eyes were hard. It would have been easier to get emotion from a brick wall than from him. There was nothing to be talked about; his mind was made up. He was done. Period. Done. And there was no changing his mind; that was for sure. I had asked him to come to the store (it was a Saturday) and talk to me...I had a list of things I thought we could work on, could do, that would make things a lot better, and I wanted his input on the list...I was trying to get to the bottom of the problem, fix it, and continue on being PiePie and Honey, but they no longer existed. They were dead. I remember him getting up and walking out, and I remember doing what I do when I need to do something: I write. I was typing him an email, and about three minutes into it, just three minutes after he had gone, God took care of me by sending in my friend, A, who wasn't even planning to stop, but found herself walking into the store before she knew it. And she held me while I cried and cried, and she prayed and she listened, and she assured me I would be OK. I remember saying to her, "I can't do this!!! I've been married since I was 16...what am I going to DO?!?!??!" And I remember her response: You'll get there, and we, your friends, will help you. And somehow, because I knew she meant it, I felt better. I wasn't alone, nor would I be, because you know what came from the store? Life-long friendships with some of the neatest people that I know. Had it not been for the store, I would not have been prepared for this, the rest of my life, with no PiePie. Mind you, they are no replacement....nor was he a "replacement" for them. It was the best of both worlds, really...because I had them both. Also, from our collecting days, there was plenty of furniture and "stuff" to supply me with a furnished house, without spending much money at all. What a blesssing...and it wasn't just stuff that would do...it was stuff that I had picked out, things I loved, things that ended up making my new house a home. Since that fateful Saturday some weeks ago, (seems like years and like yesterday, all at once) , the store, not purposely, has went by the wayside. I had to move, and get settled into a new house. I had to start a new job, taking up much of my days. And I had a heart that broke and a tummy that ached every time I thought about walking in there, to that place that was my dream, my happy spot...which was now tainted. I don't regret it, and I see how God was preparing me through it all, really I do, but still, my heart is not there. I have a group of friends who will come and help me move things, I have a friend who is graciously letting me use her storage as my storage. I have left places in my new house to put my creative supplies, so that I can continue to be crafty from home, making Christmas presents, gifts for others, and things for my house. I *must* "make" to be healthy, to be mentally healthy. It is who I am; it's what I do. So this weekend, more than likely, will be the big move. We will pack things, and we will store them. I will pick things I want in my new house, and I will store the rest. I have several people that I need to say thank you to, for one reason or the other, and I have items in there that I've reserved for them in my head. I need to get them ready to be given as gifts and get them handed out. (Note: I STILL have Nyc's Christmas gift...getting them out is the part I apparently stink at!) I will sort things and label boxes like a fiend so that I can find what I'm looking for when I need it. I will be having a nice-sized yardsale here, at my house, and soon. There will be store items here as well as other things I've found as I've moved that I've outgrown or don't need. They will be a part of the sale as well. So, for all of you who have been asking about the store, today, I finally looked the facts in the eye, talked to Debbie, and told her there was no other way; I have to close. It makes my heart so very sad, but at the same time, since this was supposed to be a PiePie and Honey adventure that turned into something way opposite that, my heart and soul are just not there any more. In fact, I would probably have it cleaned out already, except I don't like going there any more. It just makes me sad; it's not a happy place to me any more. I've never thought of me as selfish, but when I look back, I think maybe I was being selfish; looking at life and the store and such through my own little tunnel, not paying attention to the rest of the world, and that makes me sad. I still want to teach classes. I still want to have a kids' class on Saturdays. I still want to have girls night...and these things can be done in small groups, right here in my living room, and maybe that will quench my thirst to do the artsy craftsy things that roam around in my head. I still want to create for friends and family and for myself...I need that, but I just can't do the store any longer. Like I said, I'm sad, because it was just beginning to work out well, and it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but it can't be a reality any longer. The quicker I get things moved out, the healthier I believe I will be, if that makes sense. I know many of you have been asking about the store, and I've purposely ignored the questions, because I, myself, didn't know the answers to them, and there were other people that needed to know first, before I announced it on facebook. People that helped me, that believed in me and in my idea, and people who are sad that it will be no longer...but now, here I am announcing that the store will be closing its doors, and I will be holding small classes in my living room, so stay a member of my group page and keep my number...you never know when there might be a class you want to come and take! or maybe you want to get a couple girlfriends together, and come over and paint...you tell me, and we'll make it happen. In the mean time, please say a prayer for me this weekend as you think of me here and there, because packing up and moving out is not going to be an easy task for me mentally...but the rewards of having it behind me will fuel me to get it done. So, for now, I am saying goodbye to part of a dream, a bittersweet goodbye, and looking forward to being able to continue to teach some classes in the wacky way that only Abby can do. I had just ordered a very expensive sign to go out front at the store. I think I'm going to find a way to attach it to my porch railing instead. The name will still be Perry's Paradise, at least on the ardes, the stickers, and the banner, because I spent entirely too much money on them to change them now. The phone number is still mine, so you can still call and reserve your class spot...and I'll still be posting on the group page. (Which I did change to Positively Persevering instead of Perry's Paradise.) When all is said and done, I will be a Key again and leave the PiePie to have his Perry name as I don't think I can bare to have it attached to me as a reminder of what I am not any longer. 98% of the people I know know me as a "Key"...1% know me as my maiden name, Fields and another 1% or so know me as Perry. So, hands down, Key it will be. (This is also because that is the name my children carry, and in my heart, no matter what, I will always be a Key...you can flush 20 years of your life away, especially when the three best things that ever happened to you came from those 20 years spent with that person.
Soooo...I ache because this dream that came true was short lived with such an awful-tasting ending. I am excited about doing classes here in my home, just in small groups, for fun. It amazes me that men are such pigs when it comes to swarming a girl who just is coming out of a marriage, all innocently asking questions, as if they talk to her all the time, when in fact, she hasn't heard from them in years....and, she will continue to hold her head up high, and try to beas strong as people keep telling her she is...and she will be glad to get this behind her and move on.
Thank you, dear reader, for letting me rant tonight, and for sticking with me while I did some tail-chasing. I'll see if I can come up with another, better subject with happier connotations than this one for tomorrow.
G'night!
Subject numero uno: May I just say that it amazes me how within MINUTES, LITERALLY MINUTES of changing my facebook status from "it's complicated" to "single" my fb inbox was flooded with messages from guys who just "happened" to say "hello" so very "innocently" as if I'm to stupid to put two and two together. Guys...make note of this: I DO have a brain. Not that it would take a huge amount of intelligence to put that together, but you must not realize that, or you would have been a bit more discreet. I will say this: there are about two of you, out of the dozen or so, that I understand really care, who I've spoken with on and off for forever, because we are friends anyways...and I'm not referring to you. You know who you are.
Subject numero dos: Boys and girls can be friends. Just friends. Certainly, it's possible!!! Yes, the paperwork says I'm still married. Unfortunately, because of the cost of changing that status, it's going to stay that way indefinitely. BUT...just because I want to go somewhere or do something doesn't mean I want to hop in the sack, be your girlfriend, or start drama. It is simply because I enjoy your company and thought we were *friends* and could do this. Apparently, I misjudged you. My bad. Most of my life, I have had friends that were boys, and they were better friends and confidants than the girls who were "friends" in my life. Until just recently, I've not had a lot of girlfriends, but more guy-friends...so it's odd to me that there are those of you who are...uncomfortable...???...with this. I'm chasing my tail, so I'll stop. Read what I mean, not what I say, OK?
Subject numero tres: The store. This is the real kicker of them all. And there is a lesson to be learned here, too. The lesson is this: SAY WHAT YOU MEAN. Don't expect that someone is going to infer what you mean when you are saying something totally different. We are humans, not mind-readers.
It's no secret that the store was a dream of mine that was able to come true, because I *thought* that my husband was behind me when we made the decision to give it a go. It seemed that God Himself literally plopped the store down in my lap, and said, "Here, Abs, take it and run with it! You can do it; you will go far!" I've always wanted to have a store...but I always wanted to run it with my sisters...which is hard to do when we are spread out in four different directions, at least 2 hours away from each other, again, in four different directions. Soooo, I had to strike out on my own, and enjoy it enough for all of us. Since both Mark and I loved to shop for neat things at yardsales, thrift store, antique stores, Goodwill...flea markets...you get the idea, we came up with a lot of one of a kind things that we didn't need, but just couldn't leave behind. My "engagement ring" was a building all of my own to store our finds in, and to house my crafting supplies and give me a place to create. Little did we know that we were preparing for the store with every weekend of yardsaling we did. When the store started to become a reality, we had plenty of "stock" and were still able to hold on to the things we loved and didn't want to part with. Mark's biggest collection was beer mugs, steins, and other liquer glasses, etc. Mine: pottery. There were a few other things here and there that we wanted to hold on to that we found and just couldn't part with, but for the most part, those things we found didn't hold any sentimental value, we just thought they were neat, so we got them, and into the store they went. Of course, as with any business, the beginning was slow, but slow and steady. And we all know about "slow and steady", right? It wins the race! :) There were times when Mark would say to me,"Now, Honey, you know that if the store doesn't pick up, we're going to have to do something different, right?" And I would reply with a nod of my head and a firm "Yes"....but then I would remind him that we weren't going to be rolling in customers and cash within our first year of business, let alone the first 6 months. That would be the end of the conversation until another time, when we would have the same one again. Verbatem. (SP? Too lazy right now to look it up. You know what I mean.) And so I would go to the store, and "work" and go home and report the day's buisness to the PiePie. He used to come after work before seeing his parents or after and sit in my patchwork chair that everyone loves, and say hi, give me a hello kiss, and then visit for a bit. That gradually happened less and less, and I guess, looking back, I should have taken note of that, but I didn't. You know what they say about hindsight. What I didn't know was that he was really resenting the store, and felt like I was taking advantage of him working so hard for us, when I was not making much money, and he, in his mind, had asked me numerous times to close the store and look for a job. Except, that conversation up there ^^^^^ is what was said, and I didn't deduct from it properly like he thought that I should. Miscommunication is a very bad thing. Sadly, it could be avoided a lot of the time...but sometimes, it takes looking back to see it. I'm certain that in the end...the end that could have been avoided...it was the store that made a huge dent in our otherwise happy marriage. I regret that I didn't understand what he meant, because had it come down to keeping the store or keeping my marriage, without question, hands down, in a heartbeat, I would have gladly picked my marriage. It makes me sad that he felt like I was picking it over him...that was so not the case. Another reason I was pleased to have the store was that with the hours I had, and being my own boss, I could take his parents to their various appointments, sit with them in the hospital when need be, and take care of them...a luxery that no one else in the family really had, so it worked for all of us. At any rate, I stumbled upon the fact that classes were a huge success. Who would have thought that Westmoreland wanted art classes? Not I...not in the magnitude that they did...but it's true...they were a big hit! Unfortunately, by the time I figured this out, PiePie's heart was not anywhere near interested in the goings on of the store; he resented it, I believe, is the right word. So even though I was helping to pay the bills at that point, he didn't care any longer. There were some other, smaller problems that could have been addressed and fixed, but what marriage doesn't have those? But with this one looming overhead...the smaller ones didn't really seem to matter so much, I guess. I will never understand what happened, or pretend to, because I don't have a clue, and it leaves me dumbfounded when I think about it, and since thinking about it doesn't change anything, what's the point? I'll take happier thoughts, please. The day that everything really came together, and the day that he told me he was done, done, done...we were at the store. He was cold. His eyes were hard. It would have been easier to get emotion from a brick wall than from him. There was nothing to be talked about; his mind was made up. He was done. Period. Done. And there was no changing his mind; that was for sure. I had asked him to come to the store (it was a Saturday) and talk to me...I had a list of things I thought we could work on, could do, that would make things a lot better, and I wanted his input on the list...I was trying to get to the bottom of the problem, fix it, and continue on being PiePie and Honey, but they no longer existed. They were dead. I remember him getting up and walking out, and I remember doing what I do when I need to do something: I write. I was typing him an email, and about three minutes into it, just three minutes after he had gone, God took care of me by sending in my friend, A, who wasn't even planning to stop, but found herself walking into the store before she knew it. And she held me while I cried and cried, and she prayed and she listened, and she assured me I would be OK. I remember saying to her, "I can't do this!!! I've been married since I was 16...what am I going to DO?!?!??!" And I remember her response: You'll get there, and we, your friends, will help you. And somehow, because I knew she meant it, I felt better. I wasn't alone, nor would I be, because you know what came from the store? Life-long friendships with some of the neatest people that I know. Had it not been for the store, I would not have been prepared for this, the rest of my life, with no PiePie. Mind you, they are no replacement....nor was he a "replacement" for them. It was the best of both worlds, really...because I had them both. Also, from our collecting days, there was plenty of furniture and "stuff" to supply me with a furnished house, without spending much money at all. What a blesssing...and it wasn't just stuff that would do...it was stuff that I had picked out, things I loved, things that ended up making my new house a home. Since that fateful Saturday some weeks ago, (seems like years and like yesterday, all at once) , the store, not purposely, has went by the wayside. I had to move, and get settled into a new house. I had to start a new job, taking up much of my days. And I had a heart that broke and a tummy that ached every time I thought about walking in there, to that place that was my dream, my happy spot...which was now tainted. I don't regret it, and I see how God was preparing me through it all, really I do, but still, my heart is not there. I have a group of friends who will come and help me move things, I have a friend who is graciously letting me use her storage as my storage. I have left places in my new house to put my creative supplies, so that I can continue to be crafty from home, making Christmas presents, gifts for others, and things for my house. I *must* "make" to be healthy, to be mentally healthy. It is who I am; it's what I do. So this weekend, more than likely, will be the big move. We will pack things, and we will store them. I will pick things I want in my new house, and I will store the rest. I have several people that I need to say thank you to, for one reason or the other, and I have items in there that I've reserved for them in my head. I need to get them ready to be given as gifts and get them handed out. (Note: I STILL have Nyc's Christmas gift...getting them out is the part I apparently stink at!) I will sort things and label boxes like a fiend so that I can find what I'm looking for when I need it. I will be having a nice-sized yardsale here, at my house, and soon. There will be store items here as well as other things I've found as I've moved that I've outgrown or don't need. They will be a part of the sale as well. So, for all of you who have been asking about the store, today, I finally looked the facts in the eye, talked to Debbie, and told her there was no other way; I have to close. It makes my heart so very sad, but at the same time, since this was supposed to be a PiePie and Honey adventure that turned into something way opposite that, my heart and soul are just not there any more. In fact, I would probably have it cleaned out already, except I don't like going there any more. It just makes me sad; it's not a happy place to me any more. I've never thought of me as selfish, but when I look back, I think maybe I was being selfish; looking at life and the store and such through my own little tunnel, not paying attention to the rest of the world, and that makes me sad. I still want to teach classes. I still want to have a kids' class on Saturdays. I still want to have girls night...and these things can be done in small groups, right here in my living room, and maybe that will quench my thirst to do the artsy craftsy things that roam around in my head. I still want to create for friends and family and for myself...I need that, but I just can't do the store any longer. Like I said, I'm sad, because it was just beginning to work out well, and it was a once in a lifetime opportunity, but it can't be a reality any longer. The quicker I get things moved out, the healthier I believe I will be, if that makes sense. I know many of you have been asking about the store, and I've purposely ignored the questions, because I, myself, didn't know the answers to them, and there were other people that needed to know first, before I announced it on facebook. People that helped me, that believed in me and in my idea, and people who are sad that it will be no longer...but now, here I am announcing that the store will be closing its doors, and I will be holding small classes in my living room, so stay a member of my group page and keep my number...you never know when there might be a class you want to come and take! or maybe you want to get a couple girlfriends together, and come over and paint...you tell me, and we'll make it happen. In the mean time, please say a prayer for me this weekend as you think of me here and there, because packing up and moving out is not going to be an easy task for me mentally...but the rewards of having it behind me will fuel me to get it done. So, for now, I am saying goodbye to part of a dream, a bittersweet goodbye, and looking forward to being able to continue to teach some classes in the wacky way that only Abby can do. I had just ordered a very expensive sign to go out front at the store. I think I'm going to find a way to attach it to my porch railing instead. The name will still be Perry's Paradise, at least on the ardes, the stickers, and the banner, because I spent entirely too much money on them to change them now. The phone number is still mine, so you can still call and reserve your class spot...and I'll still be posting on the group page. (Which I did change to Positively Persevering instead of Perry's Paradise.) When all is said and done, I will be a Key again and leave the PiePie to have his Perry name as I don't think I can bare to have it attached to me as a reminder of what I am not any longer. 98% of the people I know know me as a "Key"...1% know me as my maiden name, Fields and another 1% or so know me as Perry. So, hands down, Key it will be. (This is also because that is the name my children carry, and in my heart, no matter what, I will always be a Key...you can flush 20 years of your life away, especially when the three best things that ever happened to you came from those 20 years spent with that person.
Soooo...I ache because this dream that came true was short lived with such an awful-tasting ending. I am excited about doing classes here in my home, just in small groups, for fun. It amazes me that men are such pigs when it comes to swarming a girl who just is coming out of a marriage, all innocently asking questions, as if they talk to her all the time, when in fact, she hasn't heard from them in years....and, she will continue to hold her head up high, and try to beas strong as people keep telling her she is...and she will be glad to get this behind her and move on.
Thank you, dear reader, for letting me rant tonight, and for sticking with me while I did some tail-chasing. I'll see if I can come up with another, better subject with happier connotations than this one for tomorrow.
G'night!
Thursday, July 12, 2012
I am WORTHY.
So, tonight was a very rough night. I actually had to go to N's house, sit down, lean on her, and cry my eyes out...for quite a while. Poor N...she sure does have to put up with a lot, that's for sure. I do believe that's the first time I've cried since that fatal Saturday. It may not be the first but it is definitely the first *real* cry I've had since then.
All was going well. I was handling everything OK....I went in the house...his house...the sterile one...and went to get my scales. Simple enough, right? And I found the coupon holders I'd been looking for, too. So I picked them up...innocent enough, right? I spent a couple hours in my building, sorting through things that were from my desk at my other office job, things I wanted for the house, and so on and so forth. I was drenched when I was done...it's really stuffy in there, as I'm sure you could imagine. I was leaving. Getting in the car. And he called. And accused. And it went down hill from there. I will say that I should not have said a lot of the things I said to him...at least not within hearing distance for Anna, who I didn't want to be over there to begin with. For that reason. Well, that and a few more. I can't say I'm sorry for what I said, because it's the truth. I'm sorry it's the truth, but he made those choices, and so did she (the child). I did not. But yet I'm the one who has to live with them. Their choices. Pretty much stinks. It's funny, though....the choice they made (severing their ties from mine) would lead you to believe they wanted no further contact with me, right? But still, the calls and text messages roll. Mainly from her....mainly.
I cried and cried and cried after I left. And it wasn't even because I was mad, like normal. It was because I was hurting. Hurting for me, because the man I fell in love with has vanished, and hurting for him, because the "he" I knew vanished, in that place came a cold, steel-eyed, drinking machine...not a person. I grieve because I have lost the man I thought I knew. I grieve because I lost the frienship I thought I had. I grieve because he is miserable, and he doesn't have to be. I grieve because I have been shattered into a million pieces again and again, and I keep getting knocked down, and then I have to stand back up again. If there were a buzzer, like in a boxing match, a referee counting, "three....two....one!!!!!" I do believe that I would get up slower and slower until finally, at least in my mind's eye, I just lay there and cry. And cry. And cry some more. I think that crying because you're hurting, for yourself, for someone else, for both...is far worse than crying when you're mad. I regret that I was yelling in front of my nanna and my kebble. My Kebble is angry with me, and that's not at all cool. He was definitely the grown-up of the bunch last night, and while I am proud of him, that's not cool, either, because I'm supposed to be the one setting the example, but one far from that which happened last night. My nannababy...she shouldn't have had to hear the yelling. I'm ashamed of me for my behavior...I should have found the high road and just used it, and never looked back.
Tonight, I know the answer to the questions I had last night about severing ties. The ties between the Key family and the Perry family have got to be severed. There is just no other way around it. The problem is I still have *so much* stuff there in my building, in the garages, in the outbuildings, and I really have nowhere to store those things. Renting a storage unit is, at least right now, out of the question. Maybe when my ship comes in. I guess I"ll just have to use the totes I have, then figure out what to do with the rest. I hear a MAJOR YARDSALE in my very near future, don't you? But anyhoo....Anna needs to NOT be around them any more, period. I instructed my older children to stay away, too, and while there is no question about Katie showing up over there (which will happen when pigs fly), Kevin, my peace keeper...I could see him going...but I wish he would just cut them off as well.
I miss Barb and Carl. For some reason, especially Carl. He and I spent so much time together. SO much time. And for some reason, I would always touch him. If he was sitting up, I'd rub is back, if he was laying down, I'd play with his feet. I haven't seen them in a month and a half or so, but at first, I knew I couldn't go in there with them because I would cry. Then as time passed, not knowing what they had been told, I didn't want to go and upset them. I asked the two older kids what they thought about me going, the two who have been so good to me from the beginning, and they both thought it would be fine. Mark said the same. Soooo...that all being said, I think I shall go and see them on a day when I can breathe and make sure I can get through the visit without crying. I'm not sure if I should sever that tie or not...I know they love company, and I love going. I want to at least go once and tell them thank you for all they've done for me, and for taking care of my children and me as if they were their own. I want to tell them how much I love them, and that I've missed them. But I don't want to upset them in any way. We'll see. I'm still doing a lot of praying about this.
I went to bed after writing the above, and here I am, on a rainy Thursday morning, trying to hold my eyes open, and get the "repeat" of last night out of my head. Hard to do. Why? Because no matter what, there is still so much love in my heart...and if he doesn't want to be with me (which I will never understand), I just wish he could find happiness...I wish he would *choose* happiness, instead of the life with "friends", beer, and misery. Why can't he see? See? Stuck on repeat. I'm not being selfish, either. He chose to cut me out of his life, add his friends and his beer and unhealthy habits. There's not much I can do...but I pray from the very bottom of my heart that some way, some how, he can turn back into that soft, lovable PaPa Bear/PiePie that I knew and watched enjoy his life. It's just so sad that he is choosing misery instead. I grieve for that person that is gone; it's like a death, only he's still out there walking around. With my heart in his hands, always....at least to some extent.
Yesterday, *M* sent me this devotion....could it have been any more perfect if it was supposed to be written for me? I should think not!
Today, I have had to take medicine to breathe already, and will likely need more as I am still not breathing well. I'm at work, though I would rather be at home, in bed....but work is a good diversion, my N said last night, and I know she is right. I'm so very thankful for her, and for her nearness, physically, because I needed her shoulder, and I soaked it really good, and she let me. I'm thankful for a job where I feel relaxed, where I fit in, and where the people are nice. I'm thankful to be back working in an office...this setting is me. :)
On a happier note, I took this photo of my desk yesterday, and I thought I would share it.
The house, we made in class. I love the color combo, the red and white polka dots, and the cloud and the hearts coming out of the chimney. I had written "Perry" on the door, so I covered it with a little label sticker I had that now says "Welcome". Works for me. You can also see my pink princess crown, holding my pens, and behind that is my piggybank...change goes in there for snacks or lunch. The little bird with the balloons has been picked up in my store numerous times, but then put back down, so it's here, adding cheer to the air...after all, Pooh says NO ONE can be "uncheered" by a balloon! :)
Happy Day Before Friday!
All was going well. I was handling everything OK....I went in the house...his house...the sterile one...and went to get my scales. Simple enough, right? And I found the coupon holders I'd been looking for, too. So I picked them up...innocent enough, right? I spent a couple hours in my building, sorting through things that were from my desk at my other office job, things I wanted for the house, and so on and so forth. I was drenched when I was done...it's really stuffy in there, as I'm sure you could imagine. I was leaving. Getting in the car. And he called. And accused. And it went down hill from there. I will say that I should not have said a lot of the things I said to him...at least not within hearing distance for Anna, who I didn't want to be over there to begin with. For that reason. Well, that and a few more. I can't say I'm sorry for what I said, because it's the truth. I'm sorry it's the truth, but he made those choices, and so did she (the child). I did not. But yet I'm the one who has to live with them. Their choices. Pretty much stinks. It's funny, though....the choice they made (severing their ties from mine) would lead you to believe they wanted no further contact with me, right? But still, the calls and text messages roll. Mainly from her....mainly.
I cried and cried and cried after I left. And it wasn't even because I was mad, like normal. It was because I was hurting. Hurting for me, because the man I fell in love with has vanished, and hurting for him, because the "he" I knew vanished, in that place came a cold, steel-eyed, drinking machine...not a person. I grieve because I have lost the man I thought I knew. I grieve because I lost the frienship I thought I had. I grieve because he is miserable, and he doesn't have to be. I grieve because I have been shattered into a million pieces again and again, and I keep getting knocked down, and then I have to stand back up again. If there were a buzzer, like in a boxing match, a referee counting, "three....two....one!!!!!" I do believe that I would get up slower and slower until finally, at least in my mind's eye, I just lay there and cry. And cry. And cry some more. I think that crying because you're hurting, for yourself, for someone else, for both...is far worse than crying when you're mad. I regret that I was yelling in front of my nanna and my kebble. My Kebble is angry with me, and that's not at all cool. He was definitely the grown-up of the bunch last night, and while I am proud of him, that's not cool, either, because I'm supposed to be the one setting the example, but one far from that which happened last night. My nannababy...she shouldn't have had to hear the yelling. I'm ashamed of me for my behavior...I should have found the high road and just used it, and never looked back.
Tonight, I know the answer to the questions I had last night about severing ties. The ties between the Key family and the Perry family have got to be severed. There is just no other way around it. The problem is I still have *so much* stuff there in my building, in the garages, in the outbuildings, and I really have nowhere to store those things. Renting a storage unit is, at least right now, out of the question. Maybe when my ship comes in. I guess I"ll just have to use the totes I have, then figure out what to do with the rest. I hear a MAJOR YARDSALE in my very near future, don't you? But anyhoo....Anna needs to NOT be around them any more, period. I instructed my older children to stay away, too, and while there is no question about Katie showing up over there (which will happen when pigs fly), Kevin, my peace keeper...I could see him going...but I wish he would just cut them off as well.
I miss Barb and Carl. For some reason, especially Carl. He and I spent so much time together. SO much time. And for some reason, I would always touch him. If he was sitting up, I'd rub is back, if he was laying down, I'd play with his feet. I haven't seen them in a month and a half or so, but at first, I knew I couldn't go in there with them because I would cry. Then as time passed, not knowing what they had been told, I didn't want to go and upset them. I asked the two older kids what they thought about me going, the two who have been so good to me from the beginning, and they both thought it would be fine. Mark said the same. Soooo...that all being said, I think I shall go and see them on a day when I can breathe and make sure I can get through the visit without crying. I'm not sure if I should sever that tie or not...I know they love company, and I love going. I want to at least go once and tell them thank you for all they've done for me, and for taking care of my children and me as if they were their own. I want to tell them how much I love them, and that I've missed them. But I don't want to upset them in any way. We'll see. I'm still doing a lot of praying about this.
I went to bed after writing the above, and here I am, on a rainy Thursday morning, trying to hold my eyes open, and get the "repeat" of last night out of my head. Hard to do. Why? Because no matter what, there is still so much love in my heart...and if he doesn't want to be with me (which I will never understand), I just wish he could find happiness...I wish he would *choose* happiness, instead of the life with "friends", beer, and misery. Why can't he see? See? Stuck on repeat. I'm not being selfish, either. He chose to cut me out of his life, add his friends and his beer and unhealthy habits. There's not much I can do...but I pray from the very bottom of my heart that some way, some how, he can turn back into that soft, lovable PaPa Bear/PiePie that I knew and watched enjoy his life. It's just so sad that he is choosing misery instead. I grieve for that person that is gone; it's like a death, only he's still out there walking around. With my heart in his hands, always....at least to some extent.
Yesterday, *M* sent me this devotion....could it have been any more perfect if it was supposed to be written for me? I should think not!
July 11, 2012
Seeing Adversity from God's Viewpoint
Read | Isaiah 55:8-9
When adversity hits you like a ton of bricks, it could easily
throw you into a pit of discouragement and despair. Although you may
consider difficulties as setbacks, the Lord sees them as times for
great advancement. His purpose for allowing them is not to destroy you
but to stimulate your spiritual growth. In His great wisdom, the Lord
knows how to take an awful situation and use it to transform you into
the image of Christ and equip you to carry out His will.
Every adversity that comes into your life is sifted through God's
permissive will. That doesn't mean the difficulty itself is His perfect
will, but He's allowed the trial to touch you so that He can use it to
accomplish His wonderful purposes for your life. Although some of the
suffering we see and experience seems senseless or blatantly evil, we
must recognize that we have a very limited perspective and cannot
always understand what the Lord is doing.
Our heavenly Father sees every aspect of life, but our view is
restricted to what is right before us. His plans include not only you
but all of His creation, and they reach from the beginning of time to
eternity future. Though we'll never grasp the infinite mind of God, we
can know His faithfulness and love.
When you can't understand God's ways, focus on His perfect
knowledge, wisdom, and power rather than the magnitude of your sorrow.
Remember, He sees the entire picture and loves you more than you can
imagine. This is a time to walk by faith, as perfect understanding
comes only in heaven.
Today, I have had to take medicine to breathe already, and will likely need more as I am still not breathing well. I'm at work, though I would rather be at home, in bed....but work is a good diversion, my N said last night, and I know she is right. I'm so very thankful for her, and for her nearness, physically, because I needed her shoulder, and I soaked it really good, and she let me. I'm thankful for a job where I feel relaxed, where I fit in, and where the people are nice. I'm thankful to be back working in an office...this setting is me. :)
On a happier note, I took this photo of my desk yesterday, and I thought I would share it.
Happy Day Before Friday!
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
That's MS. Guppy to you!
I went fish shopping yesterday, on my way home from work. I just got a few cheapos to make sure that the tank is OK...and too because I don't have extra money right now to spend on fish. Any fish will do...Anna doesn't know the difference. As I was watching them all, I was talking to a lady about Guppies. I didn't see any of them at this particular store, but we had a lengthy conversation about how dainty and delicate they look, but yet they produce babies like rabbits!
I've told this story before, on my old blog, but I have a lot of new readers here, and I have been reminded of this story by each of the experiences I've listed above. When I was a child, I was signed up at the YMCA to take swimming lessons. The classes were named after fish...the class I was supposed to be in was a beginner class, and it was called "Guppies". The first day of class, our teacher took us out to the deep end, and told us to jump in and tread water for 10 minutes. I seriously thought I was going to drown...I kept going near the side, and she would yell at me to do better and not touch the side. I told my parents I didn't want to go back, but they made me. Soooo...I went in, showered for 45 minutes so as to be wet when they came to get me, and did not go to class. I was terrified of that lady, and the water. After the third or so missed class, my teacher called my parents to ask where I was and if everything was OK, and THEN...the truth came out. I cried and cried and told them I thought I was drowning and couldn't swim like the others could in that class. Long story short, They had me in the "Porpoise" class...the most advanced class they offered!!! They never made me go back, and to this day, I do not like water. BUT...Guppy or no...I survived. It was hard work, but I did it. And I didn't die like I thought I was going to...I made it.
Fast forward. At my last job, I felt very much the same way that I did in that swimming class. I was thrown a huge task, given someone to "help" me that told me to do wrong things on purpose, and my boss was a tyrant from another country. This did not help. I spent hours organizing, reading, and working. I had binders for this, and I had binders for that. I taught myself the job, eventually, and when my bosses changed, I taught him the job. He never knew it, because I did not tell him, but I overheard my first boss and the department head talking about how he would never make it, and they laughed. I was bound and determined that he WOULD make it, and he did. So there. Anyways, I was a guppy in a world of porpoises, but I survived, and actually loved my job before all was said and done. Go me.
Here I am again, feeling much like a guppy. A-gain. Small, defenseless, ignorant, thrown out in a world of porpoises and sharks, i.e. people who don't like me that I won't name, and new experiences I've had to muddle my way through. I am reminded of how upset I stayed and how sick I got over having to go to work, and I remember all the tears I cried, thinking I could never do the job, and that I was going to be a failure. But I was determined, stubborn, and I suppose I must have been strong, because everyone keeps telling me that, and in the end, it all worked out for me. I keep telling myself that one day, I will not be "guppy status" any more, and all will be well. I will be able to talk about those people, this marriage and lack thereof, and this part of my life...the part where I, alone, had to come up with a way to support myself, worry about paying rent, etc. and learning a new job...I can do it! I also hope that I can remember to reach down to any other guppies that I run across, and help them with their journey to "porpoise level", like others have done for me.
I am not a quitter, and I seem to be a survivor, so I suppose that this will be a distant memory soon enough and maybe my "guppy" feelings will disintegrate as well. The good thing is I don't believe that any of this is going to kill me, and so that means I will get stronger...and guppies are beautiful fish. My insides are not always perfect by any means, but I would like to work at making my insides as pretty as those guppies are on the outside. Have you ever felt like a guppy? I'm just curious. I know I"m not the only one!
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
How do you just turn it off?
How do you sever ties? Where is the "off" switch? Where's the middle of the road...the line is blurry?!? If things are black and white, how come it all seems grey? Where does the road go? Does it end abruptly with a "dead end" sign? I should think it doesn't, for certainly, if it did, by now I would have gotten there, wouldn't I? Instead, it seems like the roadsigns say things like dangerous curve ahead...or maybe, it would be nice if there *was* that warning...we could prepare ourselves for it, maybe? But how do you prepare? How do you take two lives that have meshed into one, and just cut them apart? What's his? What's mine? What do you do with the things that were "ours"? For instance, Anna became "ours". She was just three when PiePie came into her life. Three. It's what she knows...he was her...um...."other dad", if you will. To our other children, even Makayla, we were Mark and Abby. But Anna was young enough that I wanted her to show more respect than to just call him "Mark" and she chose his name by accident, and it stuck. He became "Mr. PiePie", later to be shortened just to "PiePie" or a lot of the time it was "MY PiePie". My PiePie did this with me, or that is My PiePie....it had personality, and it fit. For some reason, "step" bothered me...to me, that portrays something that is not as...um...close?...I dunno...not the same as being "My PiePie". I'll just leave it at that. And, Her PiePie had a name for her...when she was at his house, 99% of the time, she was "Sally Sue Perry". Why? Who knows. But it stuck, and it was a term of affection, and it fit. Sally Sue and PiePie spent a lot of time together. She would crawl on him like a jungle gym, nad he would play with her, laughing with his crinkly eyes. She learned that if she got right up next to him and blew in his ear, it would send him into fits and he couldn't be still. She would threaten him with kisses....and he would let her kiss his head or his cheek and then either laugh to say, "Ewwwww!" And life was good. They took care of the dogs together, they worked in the garage together, she learned about chickens from him; they would study her chicken book he bought for her from Cracker Barrel every night, and he would patiently tell her the names of the chickens over and over again. She looked up to this man, Her PiePie, with adoration and love...the kind of love and adoration that a child has...so innocent, so carefree, so happy...and now, so broken. Her poor little six-year-old brain will remember this. The confusion. The hurt. The tears. Driving by his house, the house that used to be ours, and not stopping, but morbid curiosity makes you look...Are they home? What are they doing? Wonder how everything is? Are the tomatoes ripe yet? I wonder if the hummingbirds ever came this year? Where's Flicka? Can I stop and give PiePie a hug, Mom? And then can I talk to Flicka? And how am I supposed to tell her no? How do I explain when she asks me why we can't live there any more, especially when I'm not sure why that is myself. I don't understand it any more than she does. I understand what he tells people, but it does not match the perception that I had of our relationship at all. Today was an extra hard day for Anna. She missed her PiePie really bad, and she really wanted to stop and talk to her horse. Lucky for me, I had decided to stop and get a few fish for our tank and surprise her with them, so that got her mind off of it, mostly. My heart breaks for her; it makes me physically sick to think about her wondering why things are the way the are...how they got that way....and from her innocent perspective, it just makes no sense to her at all. I think if she were to go there now, and go inside, she would be even more upset. The walls are all different colors. The house is empty. It's changed. The essence isn't that of a home any more, but more of an institution. There's no love pouring out the door when you walk in; nothing is the same. I don't want her to see it like that, and then remember that. I want her to remember the home that it was to her. I want her to remember the happiness that she had while she lived at "Perry's Paradise". But instead, she cries because she does not understand, and she misses her PiePie. She tries to be brave, I know she does, but some days are just harder for her than others, and today was one of those days. Those days break me. They break me into a lot of little tiny pieces that I wonder if they are even fixable....I ache for my baby so badly. And I can't fix it. And worse...I was what got us into this situation...and there's nothing I can do about it now. Then I wonder....should I let her stop and see him, give him a hug, talk to him? Would that just bother him? Is it better to just sever the ties completely? Am I drepriving her of a relationship with this man she adores by not allowing her to see him? I suppose I'm just thinking that at some point, the "out of sight, out of mind" rule will play into all of this, and onward we will go into a future that only God knows what's next. So tonight as I got to bed, you can just imagine the prayers I will be praying with my heavy, tired heart, prayers of healing and of love, and prayers to make the right/best decisions for my baby. Prayers to help me find a way to take as much of the hurt away as possible. And whil I pray, I will wrap her snuggly little body right next to mine and enjoy her company all night long, and then, tomorrow will be here....the first day of the REST of our lives. We better live it well!
Anna and PiePie would have "Perry Face" stare downs, and she would go nose to nose with him just like it was nothing. That's her "Show me your PERRY face" there.
Just like with people, it's hard to know what to do with things like the animals. I know that Harley was Marks before I came, but then I bought Emma to play with Harley, but yet, I couldn't bring myself to separate them when I moved out....so Mark got the dog custody. I miss watching their antics and playing with them. I don't miss tripping over them, though, to be honest.
This was a good day...a day of good company, fun painting, good food, a fun drive to and from, and something to show for it when we were finished. I loved that he would draw with me, and that he would paint with me. I miss that so badly.
So yes, how DO you sever ties? How do you split up a life? How do you turn it off, especially when you're only six and he is your hero? I guess you offer lots of tender love and care, fun activities to keep the mind off of the bad stuff, and pray that in time, this, too, shall pass.
Anna and PiePie would have "Perry Face" stare downs, and she would go nose to nose with him just like it was nothing. That's her "Show me your PERRY face" there.
Alone vs. Lonely
I know I said I probably wouldn't write a post today, but there's been something on my mind a lot lately, and I thought maybe I could figure it out, come to a conclusion, or something. There is something I do now, in Volume Three of my life, that I have never done before. Ever. I come home to an empty house. There is no one waiting for me when I get here, no one to know whether I am here, or whether I am not here. No one asking what is for supper, to tell about my day, to look forward to...just me. I'm not sure how I feel about this, to be honest.
The first thought that went through my head, the first words out of my mouth to my friend, A, after knowing that my relationship with Mark was over, for good...for real, were this: "I've been married since I was 16!!!! I can't do this!!!" I was scared to death, terrified. And that's putting it very mildly. Being married at 16, I'm sure you have deducted that I moved out of my parents' house into a house with my husband. And he and I made our way in this world, together, somehow. We did it. We were a teenage pregnancy with nothing to our names, but we did it. We had reliable cars, we had a place to live, a little spot of land to call our own, and our very own house. We went out to eat most Friday nights, even, and still found our way through the road life took us on. It was scary, and it wasn't easy, but we did it. But we were together. "Together" isn't a place I could be now, here on my own, looking for a place to call home, praying for a money tree to grow in my yard, moving box after box after box, accepting help from friends, because that's what friends are for in times like this. My mind often goes back to that day at Wal Mart, so many years ago, where I felt so small and so alone in such a great big world, only this time, I as alone, with nothing to my name except three kids, a car, and less than $200. No house. No place to live. Nowhere to go. No one to know what I did or didn't do. What to do??? I figure there are about two choices at this point. The first choice is to do what you feel like doing, and curl up in a ball and just let life go on around you, hiding from it, or the second choice is to look life in the eye and commit to beating the odds, commit to making it work, some way, some how.
You are probably wondering where the kids are, since I said I come home alone. Katie is always at work or school. Always. Kevin I see less of than I do Katie. They are grown, now, for the most part, which leaves me with my little Nanna. What a precious gift from God all three of my children have been and will continue to be...He is good...He knew just what I needed. I always call on my way home to see what Anna is doing, and if she wants to come over, but usually, she is busy playing, and doesn't want to interrupt her play time to see me. Usually. Other times, she's waiting with bells on for me to get there to her as quickly as possible. She soothes me, calms me, I'm so lucky to call her mine. I try to accomodate her wishes on where she is staying...it keeps her happy, and so we're all happy. So, sometimes I am not alone...and that's always good.
When I am alone, I am normally not lonely. I keep busy, and after 3 years of hearing the Western channel blaring from the TV 24 hours a day, the silence is welcomed. I do have Leo, and thankfully, he is a lap dog and is very good company. God knew I needed him, and helped make it possible in many ways for me to be able to keep him.
Maybe I'll get used to it, to coming home to an empty house, not having to rush to get there...I'm not really sure. I guess old habits die hard.
The first thought that went through my head, the first words out of my mouth to my friend, A, after knowing that my relationship with Mark was over, for good...for real, were this: "I've been married since I was 16!!!! I can't do this!!!" I was scared to death, terrified. And that's putting it very mildly. Being married at 16, I'm sure you have deducted that I moved out of my parents' house into a house with my husband. And he and I made our way in this world, together, somehow. We did it. We were a teenage pregnancy with nothing to our names, but we did it. We had reliable cars, we had a place to live, a little spot of land to call our own, and our very own house. We went out to eat most Friday nights, even, and still found our way through the road life took us on. It was scary, and it wasn't easy, but we did it. But we were together. "Together" isn't a place I could be now, here on my own, looking for a place to call home, praying for a money tree to grow in my yard, moving box after box after box, accepting help from friends, because that's what friends are for in times like this. My mind often goes back to that day at Wal Mart, so many years ago, where I felt so small and so alone in such a great big world, only this time, I as alone, with nothing to my name except three kids, a car, and less than $200. No house. No place to live. Nowhere to go. No one to know what I did or didn't do. What to do??? I figure there are about two choices at this point. The first choice is to do what you feel like doing, and curl up in a ball and just let life go on around you, hiding from it, or the second choice is to look life in the eye and commit to beating the odds, commit to making it work, some way, some how.
You are probably wondering where the kids are, since I said I come home alone. Katie is always at work or school. Always. Kevin I see less of than I do Katie. They are grown, now, for the most part, which leaves me with my little Nanna. What a precious gift from God all three of my children have been and will continue to be...He is good...He knew just what I needed. I always call on my way home to see what Anna is doing, and if she wants to come over, but usually, she is busy playing, and doesn't want to interrupt her play time to see me. Usually. Other times, she's waiting with bells on for me to get there to her as quickly as possible. She soothes me, calms me, I'm so lucky to call her mine. I try to accomodate her wishes on where she is staying...it keeps her happy, and so we're all happy. So, sometimes I am not alone...and that's always good.
When I am alone, I am normally not lonely. I keep busy, and after 3 years of hearing the Western channel blaring from the TV 24 hours a day, the silence is welcomed. I do have Leo, and thankfully, he is a lap dog and is very good company. God knew I needed him, and helped make it possible in many ways for me to be able to keep him.
Maybe I'll get used to it, to coming home to an empty house, not having to rush to get there...I'm not really sure. I guess old habits die hard.
Monday, July 9, 2012
This is me...being tired.
I think my body is saying it's had enough. The last three days, I've been so tired, and I've done as little as possible. My mind is tired, too, if that makes sense. I feel like I'm moving things from "here" to "there" but it's not really making progress. I need the rest of the furniture in the living room. That will involve a: painting a dresser, b: getting someone to bring the chifferobe to my house, which involves a truck and muscles. Neither of which I have. c: getting an entertainment center of some sort going on...I need two black tall bookshelves. I'll get there. Nothing is hung on the walls yet...I wanted to wait until things were mainly in their place. And they mainly are...I'll get there.
Today is my first full day of work. I really like it here...but the getting up early is something I've not had to do in a long time. I will acclimate, I'm sure. I will leave from work, go to the store and teach a class, then get home...hopefully around 9:00 but who knows. I think I'll crash tonight, though, so maybe I'll go to sleep earlier.
So I guess this is just a blog post to say that I won't really be blogging today because I won't really have time.
Happy Monday!
Today is my first full day of work. I really like it here...but the getting up early is something I've not had to do in a long time. I will acclimate, I'm sure. I will leave from work, go to the store and teach a class, then get home...hopefully around 9:00 but who knows. I think I'll crash tonight, though, so maybe I'll go to sleep earlier.
So I guess this is just a blog post to say that I won't really be blogging today because I won't really have time.
Happy Monday!
Sunday, July 8, 2012
This is me...being grateful.
So, there is this person that I was acquainted with for a couple of years, but really knew nothing about their life...but they noticed my posts seemed sad, and they picked up on it early on. Since then, we have become closer friends, learning more about each other, challenging each other to be positive, and scolding (OK...I'm the one being scolded for the most part) when thoughts are not positive...in a loving way, with a pep-talk, if you will. This friendship has been one that was just arranged by God, I'd like to think for both of our benefits. They came out of their box to identify with me, and entrusted me with their story, as I have entrusted those who read my blog with mine.
I've mentioned the people that have contacted me to tell me they are praying for me, or to chin up, or that I will be OK, eventually, and still validating my sadness, all at the same time. There have been so many, and they all say something different, something I needed to hear when they came in, and just as they tell me they can hear the pain in my posts, feel it, even, I can feel the love that they have poured into the messages that they have sent, and I'm so very appreciative of each one. THANK YOU, friends, for reading, for caring, for messaging, for praying. Keep it up...I still have to pay rent for two months and haven't started receiving pay checks yet, so yeah....just pray. It'll all fall into place, I know it will, so I'm trying not to worry.
I just wanted to say how very thankful I am that you come here to read about my day, about my feelings, about my life...and I hope that you gain something from the reading an such...because then what all I'm going through has a point; meaning. Something positive is then coming from something so sad and negative.
So here I am, optimistic about being able to help someone else with my story, and so very happy that I have friends just like that monkey in the photo who take care of me, even when I "weigh" a lot.
Wish me luck at work tomorrow...
I've mentioned the people that have contacted me to tell me they are praying for me, or to chin up, or that I will be OK, eventually, and still validating my sadness, all at the same time. There have been so many, and they all say something different, something I needed to hear when they came in, and just as they tell me they can hear the pain in my posts, feel it, even, I can feel the love that they have poured into the messages that they have sent, and I'm so very appreciative of each one. THANK YOU, friends, for reading, for caring, for messaging, for praying. Keep it up...I still have to pay rent for two months and haven't started receiving pay checks yet, so yeah....just pray. It'll all fall into place, I know it will, so I'm trying not to worry.
I just wanted to say how very thankful I am that you come here to read about my day, about my feelings, about my life...and I hope that you gain something from the reading an such...because then what all I'm going through has a point; meaning. Something positive is then coming from something so sad and negative.
Wish me luck at work tomorrow...
Saturday, July 7, 2012
This is me...sharing my thoughts, uncensored.
Today, this happened to me.....and I wrote it all out in a text, but then, I didn't send it. Probably because I didn't want to show my vulnerability to him. Probably because he doesn't need to know my thoughts; after all, it won't change things. But I needed to write it. I wasn't going to share it, but since the conversation happened on facebook today, it fit, and I thought this was a good place to put it.
"So, I'm just going along with my day, minding my own business, unpacking boxes, and then I hear it: Willie. Toby. Luther. But all I can hear is your voice. All I can see is how you love that song, and you always smile when you hear it...I can see us in the car, turning up the radio, smiling, laughing, enjoying life together, and I end up on my knees, on the floor, uncontrolably sobbing, crying because my heart is breaking all over again as I relive those happy times with you, and know that there are no more of those to come. THe pain is almost physical, it hurts so bad, and I wonder if there will ever come a time that I can have those memories without melting into a puddle of tears, and I think the answer is no. I wonder if that eer happens to you, you miss me being there, but I think the answer is no. I wonder if you kept my picture, or if you threw it away. I wonder if you think about what's for supper, and then remember I'm not there. I wonder if you miss my cooking, the concoctions that I come up with, just by digging in the pantry. I wonder if you ever get lonely at night, if you roll over to put your arm around me, only to discover, once again, that I am not there. Do you miss me scratching your back? Who will cut your hair? Did I ever matter? Did you fall out of love with me, as you said, because I'm not a cute little girl any more? So many pople have said that to me. Your friends. My friends. The house is empty, and I can see and feel you wiping me away with every brushstroke as you repaint the house, covering the layer of "Abby" so as to move on, not remember. Did you make me leave because the house wasn't empty, the walls plain? How can you watch Big Bang wihtout me being beside you? How can you not remember me? All of this is swirling around in my head at once, but above all, I just wonder if you have a little compartment in your steel box labeled "Abby" and your brain involuntarily digs that compartment out and remembers. Do you remember? Did you keep that photo? Do you wish you had one? Do you wish you had your wedding ring, or did you really put no thought into the fact that it came here, with me, in my jewelry box? Just for sentimental reasons...do you wish you had it? I doubt. Do you miss me? I will always wonder...and ache for the "us" that is no longer."
"So, I'm just going along with my day, minding my own business, unpacking boxes, and then I hear it: Willie. Toby. Luther. But all I can hear is your voice. All I can see is how you love that song, and you always smile when you hear it...I can see us in the car, turning up the radio, smiling, laughing, enjoying life together, and I end up on my knees, on the floor, uncontrolably sobbing, crying because my heart is breaking all over again as I relive those happy times with you, and know that there are no more of those to come. THe pain is almost physical, it hurts so bad, and I wonder if there will ever come a time that I can have those memories without melting into a puddle of tears, and I think the answer is no. I wonder if that eer happens to you, you miss me being there, but I think the answer is no. I wonder if you kept my picture, or if you threw it away. I wonder if you think about what's for supper, and then remember I'm not there. I wonder if you miss my cooking, the concoctions that I come up with, just by digging in the pantry. I wonder if you ever get lonely at night, if you roll over to put your arm around me, only to discover, once again, that I am not there. Do you miss me scratching your back? Who will cut your hair? Did I ever matter? Did you fall out of love with me, as you said, because I'm not a cute little girl any more? So many pople have said that to me. Your friends. My friends. The house is empty, and I can see and feel you wiping me away with every brushstroke as you repaint the house, covering the layer of "Abby" so as to move on, not remember. Did you make me leave because the house wasn't empty, the walls plain? How can you watch Big Bang wihtout me being beside you? How can you not remember me? All of this is swirling around in my head at once, but above all, I just wonder if you have a little compartment in your steel box labeled "Abby" and your brain involuntarily digs that compartment out and remembers. Do you remember? Did you keep that photo? Do you wish you had one? Do you wish you had your wedding ring, or did you really put no thought into the fact that it came here, with me, in my jewelry box? Just for sentimental reasons...do you wish you had it? I doubt. Do you miss me? I will always wonder...and ache for the "us" that is no longer."
This is me....on the opinions of others.
I've had two conversations in the last two days, I believe, with two different people on the topic of the opinions of others. "Others" being strangers, friends, family...whoever.
Conversation One was about others, mostly being strangers, judging what they might *think* is a behavioral problem and a bad parent to go with, when in reality, the child is a special needs child who can't help the way he is acting, and neither can his mother. Why do we feel the need to stop, look up, all embarassed, and say..."...sorry, he's Autistic, and it's just best to let the fit subside on its own, rather than trying to stop it". Why do we care? We will likely never see any of these people again, yet we care about the image we portray. (At least that is the conclusion N and I came to.) Sadly, for that reason (judging the proverbial book by its cover), the activities she, her child, and the rest of her family are able to do are limited, because it's easier to just not go, not do whatever, not explain, not be embarassed, to just be at home, where they are "safe". It makes me sad. For them, for him, that people are this way, and that such a neat family is not invited, or chooses not to go because they feel out of place and it's just easier on everyone to stay at home. I can't imagine thinking that is fun, 365 days of the year. And you know what? The more he's around, the better he is. He's no trouble. He's a little cuddle bug, a very compassionate child. Sure, he has quirks, tantrums, causes you to check and see why he's so quiet, but when do you NOT do that with a typical 6 year old? I'm guilty of judging, too, I'm sure. I can't think of an example right now, but yeah, I've done it. I'm really glad I didn't this time....look at the friendship, the family full of love, the blessings that have come because I accepted him, therefore, them. And I'm pretty sure they feel "safe" here, like when they are at home. Which is awesome, because my home IS their home. Any time, any time. Soooo, this conversation was an eye opener for me...to help me remember not to judge, not to shun, not to assume, but to be a positive influence. Everyone deserves a chance, don't they?
Conversation Two was not only about caring what "others" thought...but along with the "others" is grouped family and friends. This was a one-sided conversation in which I told M that I had believed in him, and he had let me down, and made me look like a fool in front of our whole entire little town, to my parents, my family, my friends....his family (even worse)...my children...it is not good to be the object of the popular topic in a small town, especially one where he knows *everyone* everywhere we go, and he proved them all right when I was so sure I was proving them all wrong. Why do I care? I think mostly it's just the sting to my pride, but it is also hurtful. It's hard to smile, and say, why yes, we are, in fact, not together any longer, and not start crying. It's hard to know that when you walk by, the next topic out of their lips is about you. It's hard to walk around, knowing you failed at a task you were given, publicly, in an epic way. Failure is not a word I like, especially when it is attached to me. Again, I'm not sure why, but I care. A lot. But in the long run, it really doesn't matter or change things, now, does it? And if they are talking, or have to ask, then they are not important anyways...because if they *were* important, they would already know! (At least that is the pep talk I give myself often.) Again, this is a lesson for me. A lesson to be more compassionate and less of a judge. To be a helper, to help raise, not put down. To extend a hand, offer a hug, offer a smile, to be a positive part of their day. A teaching lesson for myself: have some self esteem and some confidence! Walk like you're somebody!!! That's what I tell my kids. Brush it off....don't let petty people hurt your feelings! They only talk about you because their lives are not interesting enough to talk about. And so on and so forth.
I guess, really, there is no point to this post at all, other than I was pondering the topic and wanted to throw my thoughts out there, and then later, I will re-read them. I do that. I read the stuff I write, and sometimes, I go wow....you said that? You're a smart one, you are! Then other times, I'm like...woah...what were you THINKING?!?!?! But that's the point-to document my thoughts. Uninhibited, because I can.
On to other news, one of my first purchases as I can afford things I need will be a ceiling fan for my bedroom. It is the hottest room in the house, but I think with a fan to help pull the air in, it would be just right. Imagine my delight when I saw this fan....you know what I'm going to do!!!! :)
I got this from www.homehappyhome.blogspot.com. I am in love. I cannot WAIT to get this above my bed, to put my mismatched curtains up in my room....yippity skippity!
I'll try not to be so "philisophical"...if I could ever be referred to like that...tomorrow, and share a fun post about the house with you instead. We shall see what strikes me as a good post topic tomorrow...who knows!?!?!
Conversation One was about others, mostly being strangers, judging what they might *think* is a behavioral problem and a bad parent to go with, when in reality, the child is a special needs child who can't help the way he is acting, and neither can his mother. Why do we feel the need to stop, look up, all embarassed, and say..."...sorry, he's Autistic, and it's just best to let the fit subside on its own, rather than trying to stop it". Why do we care? We will likely never see any of these people again, yet we care about the image we portray. (At least that is the conclusion N and I came to.) Sadly, for that reason (judging the proverbial book by its cover), the activities she, her child, and the rest of her family are able to do are limited, because it's easier to just not go, not do whatever, not explain, not be embarassed, to just be at home, where they are "safe". It makes me sad. For them, for him, that people are this way, and that such a neat family is not invited, or chooses not to go because they feel out of place and it's just easier on everyone to stay at home. I can't imagine thinking that is fun, 365 days of the year. And you know what? The more he's around, the better he is. He's no trouble. He's a little cuddle bug, a very compassionate child. Sure, he has quirks, tantrums, causes you to check and see why he's so quiet, but when do you NOT do that with a typical 6 year old? I'm guilty of judging, too, I'm sure. I can't think of an example right now, but yeah, I've done it. I'm really glad I didn't this time....look at the friendship, the family full of love, the blessings that have come because I accepted him, therefore, them. And I'm pretty sure they feel "safe" here, like when they are at home. Which is awesome, because my home IS their home. Any time, any time. Soooo, this conversation was an eye opener for me...to help me remember not to judge, not to shun, not to assume, but to be a positive influence. Everyone deserves a chance, don't they?
Conversation Two was not only about caring what "others" thought...but along with the "others" is grouped family and friends. This was a one-sided conversation in which I told M that I had believed in him, and he had let me down, and made me look like a fool in front of our whole entire little town, to my parents, my family, my friends....his family (even worse)...my children...it is not good to be the object of the popular topic in a small town, especially one where he knows *everyone* everywhere we go, and he proved them all right when I was so sure I was proving them all wrong. Why do I care? I think mostly it's just the sting to my pride, but it is also hurtful. It's hard to smile, and say, why yes, we are, in fact, not together any longer, and not start crying. It's hard to know that when you walk by, the next topic out of their lips is about you. It's hard to walk around, knowing you failed at a task you were given, publicly, in an epic way. Failure is not a word I like, especially when it is attached to me. Again, I'm not sure why, but I care. A lot. But in the long run, it really doesn't matter or change things, now, does it? And if they are talking, or have to ask, then they are not important anyways...because if they *were* important, they would already know! (At least that is the pep talk I give myself often.) Again, this is a lesson for me. A lesson to be more compassionate and less of a judge. To be a helper, to help raise, not put down. To extend a hand, offer a hug, offer a smile, to be a positive part of their day. A teaching lesson for myself: have some self esteem and some confidence! Walk like you're somebody!!! That's what I tell my kids. Brush it off....don't let petty people hurt your feelings! They only talk about you because their lives are not interesting enough to talk about. And so on and so forth.
I guess, really, there is no point to this post at all, other than I was pondering the topic and wanted to throw my thoughts out there, and then later, I will re-read them. I do that. I read the stuff I write, and sometimes, I go wow....you said that? You're a smart one, you are! Then other times, I'm like...woah...what were you THINKING?!?!?! But that's the point-to document my thoughts. Uninhibited, because I can.
On to other news, one of my first purchases as I can afford things I need will be a ceiling fan for my bedroom. It is the hottest room in the house, but I think with a fan to help pull the air in, it would be just right. Imagine my delight when I saw this fan....you know what I'm going to do!!!! :)
I'll try not to be so "philisophical"...if I could ever be referred to like that...tomorrow, and share a fun post about the house with you instead. We shall see what strikes me as a good post topic tomorrow...who knows!?!?!
Friday, July 6, 2012
This is me...being scattered.
I had a bunch of thoughts all day today about things I wanted to blog about, and you know if I don't write something down, I don't remember it. So yeah...what were those things? Ummmm...first of all, if you have sent me a message, either emailed or inboxed on facebook, I AM NOT IGNORING YOU! I will reply to every one. I promise. I just haven't had time to even breathe, ya know? It will be better when I get all these boxes put somewhere and get an adequate amount of sleep. (Right?)
Next, I wanted to talk about blogging. Why I blog. Some may wonder, in fact, I know some do wonder, because they have told me so, why I chose to share my life and my thoughts and bare my soul for anyone and everyone to read...why would I choose to publicly do that? While I'm not sure that I can put my finger on it, really, I'll give it a go. First of all, it's theraputic to me to write and get it all off my chest, "out there" rather than "in here". I don't write for attention. That being said, part of what I do like is the comments, questions, and statements that I recieve from my readers. They make me think, and they make me know that I am not alone; that someone else out there understands, to some degree, what it is I'm trying to say...they can read between what I say to get to what I mean, and they understand. It's really good to not feel alone. (That's worthy of being said twice..yes, I knew I was repeating myself.) People that love me and care about me can keep up with me through my blog. That may sound egotistical and for that, I am regretful, for that is in no way what I mean. The other part of that sentence, or reason, is that if they read my blog and keep up with me, then they know how to pray for me, and that is comforting...knowing there are people both near and far, both friends and "strangers" who participate in the good thought vibes and prayers. Last, but most certainly not least on my list is because maybe, just maybe, my blog reaches someone who needs to hear what I have to say, or needs to know that they are not alone, either. Maybe it just makes someone think of *one* "at least" statement...even the things that seems the most minute, like that one statement, could affect how many people? The number would be almost impossible to calculate, all things considered. I'm a helper, a do-er, and care-er and a compassionate person...I'm nice, I'm thoughtful, I want to believe the best of someone, to help them along their way somehow. Maybe it's a smile, maybe it's a word, or a sentence, or a whole blog post. Maybe it's feelings I share, uncensored and honest, that capture the reader...I don't know. Why do I care so much about being helpful? Well, besides the fact that it's in my genes, I wouldn't be where I am today if someone didn't bend down, take my hand, and walk with me when I needed them to. I can think of countless instances that I have been helped through or helped by. And you know, knowing that I've helped someone else helps me. Yes, I just way overused the word "help"...but I couldn't HELP it. Ha. Dork alert. There is a quote, and I can't find it just now, so the wording won't be just right, and I don't remember who said it, even, but it basically said "I couldn't be standing on the top today if not for the people who were underneath me, letting me use their shoulders to stand on to get there." I have "shoulders" in the form of comments, emails, text message, hugs, I could go on and on. Knowing that I have that makes me stronger than I could ever dream of being without that knowledge. So yeah...if I had to narrow it down, I would say something cheesy like...As I have blessed (hopefully) many, many have blessed me. So, round and round the proverbial mulberry bush we just went....I hope you get the idea of what I mean, because I sure didn't say it very eloquently.
What else? Ummmm...I actually *wrote* a list while waiting on Verizon tonight...but I don't know what I did with it. My life story. Since I don't remember and it's getting late...again...I'm going to sign off...gotta get up early in the morning to trek to the zoo and pick up my NannaBaby. It's way too quiet around here without her!!!!!!
Next, I wanted to talk about blogging. Why I blog. Some may wonder, in fact, I know some do wonder, because they have told me so, why I chose to share my life and my thoughts and bare my soul for anyone and everyone to read...why would I choose to publicly do that? While I'm not sure that I can put my finger on it, really, I'll give it a go. First of all, it's theraputic to me to write and get it all off my chest, "out there" rather than "in here". I don't write for attention. That being said, part of what I do like is the comments, questions, and statements that I recieve from my readers. They make me think, and they make me know that I am not alone; that someone else out there understands, to some degree, what it is I'm trying to say...they can read between what I say to get to what I mean, and they understand. It's really good to not feel alone. (That's worthy of being said twice..yes, I knew I was repeating myself.) People that love me and care about me can keep up with me through my blog. That may sound egotistical and for that, I am regretful, for that is in no way what I mean. The other part of that sentence, or reason, is that if they read my blog and keep up with me, then they know how to pray for me, and that is comforting...knowing there are people both near and far, both friends and "strangers" who participate in the good thought vibes and prayers. Last, but most certainly not least on my list is because maybe, just maybe, my blog reaches someone who needs to hear what I have to say, or needs to know that they are not alone, either. Maybe it just makes someone think of *one* "at least" statement...even the things that seems the most minute, like that one statement, could affect how many people? The number would be almost impossible to calculate, all things considered. I'm a helper, a do-er, and care-er and a compassionate person...I'm nice, I'm thoughtful, I want to believe the best of someone, to help them along their way somehow. Maybe it's a smile, maybe it's a word, or a sentence, or a whole blog post. Maybe it's feelings I share, uncensored and honest, that capture the reader...I don't know. Why do I care so much about being helpful? Well, besides the fact that it's in my genes, I wouldn't be where I am today if someone didn't bend down, take my hand, and walk with me when I needed them to. I can think of countless instances that I have been helped through or helped by. And you know, knowing that I've helped someone else helps me. Yes, I just way overused the word "help"...but I couldn't HELP it. Ha. Dork alert. There is a quote, and I can't find it just now, so the wording won't be just right, and I don't remember who said it, even, but it basically said "I couldn't be standing on the top today if not for the people who were underneath me, letting me use their shoulders to stand on to get there." I have "shoulders" in the form of comments, emails, text message, hugs, I could go on and on. Knowing that I have that makes me stronger than I could ever dream of being without that knowledge. So yeah...if I had to narrow it down, I would say something cheesy like...As I have blessed (hopefully) many, many have blessed me. So, round and round the proverbial mulberry bush we just went....I hope you get the idea of what I mean, because I sure didn't say it very eloquently.
What else? Ummmm...I actually *wrote* a list while waiting on Verizon tonight...but I don't know what I did with it. My life story. Since I don't remember and it's getting late...again...I'm going to sign off...gotta get up early in the morning to trek to the zoo and pick up my NannaBaby. It's way too quiet around here without her!!!!!!
Thursday, July 5, 2012
This is me...on change, joy, and believe.
Change, joy, and believe are all good words to describe me and my life right now. Here's why:
Changes are not always a bad thing. After all, I've always wanted a window sill above my kitchen sink with a view, and not only do I have that, but I have deep sinks now, too, that hold dishes...not the sinks that come in mobile homes that are way too shallow and small. See? That's two things I've always wanted, all because of changes that have been made in my life. I love that not only do I have the window sill, but I have room to put things on it that make me smile. I'll admit it...the Popeye spinach is me being a bit...ummmm...nostalgic? Sure, I like that word. Nostalgic. I love the @ symbol...have for a long time because you know...@ is for @bby! Next, we have a picture of me with my Granny. Oh, how I love her so! It was taken two years ago, I think, for my birthday...maybe three. Not sure. The coke bottle is just a find that I had randomly sitting around looking for a home and has no meaning to me at all, really. Ha. When N and I went looking for a couch, we bought a stack of dishes, and every one that we liked happened to be green, so therefore, the green vase that I've had forever is put to use with a flower that was purchased at a craft show, I believe. It's made from a pinecone. I tried this. All I got was a very stick mess. I'll just love the one I have and leave it at that. So there is a tour of my happy little kitchen window...oh...and the sunflower says "Be Joyful" I think. Something about joy, anyways. It's a good reminder...and a good word. Although I try to be joyful in all situations, sometimes, many times, even, I fail. So this is just a good, daily reminder for me to remember to be joyful in any situation, for there is always *something* that can be started with "at least". We just may have to look for it a bit harder sometimes is all.
Today marked other changes in my life...my first day at my new job would be the first change. I like it there. Everyone is very friendly, and the environment is inviting and layed back...and the job is going to be fast-paced and keep me busy...once I learn all there is to know about windows...and I'm here to tell you that is A LOT!!! I never knew! My "space" is nice...it's not too small. I can see out the windows. Once I get it all cozied up, Abby style, I'll be all set. (First the other lady has to move out, though!) I find it strange that she moved jobs within the office, but hasn't cleaned off her things from her desk before someone else was going to be sitting there using it. I would want my things taken care of before the new gal came along, wouldn't you? Just thinking "out loud" I guess. So yes, I do believe the perfect job for me was created, and I made the smarter choice to suit me, my personality, and therefore, my health. Go me. Nothing about this change would even be possible without my friend, A, that I met through teaching classes and owning the store...so even though that is now a bittersweet memory...owning the store, that is...I am reminded that without the store, making friends with A would never have happened...so there was good to be had about having the store, yes indeed.
The next change I made today was to say goodbye to Ruby. Ruby? you ask...yes, Ruby. She and I have bonded together over many a mile, many a flea market, and many a trip to and from the store. She had plenty of space for boxes and moving things, and she also had plenty of room should I want to haul around a lot of the kids that we had, PiePie and I. The problem is, having Ruby now is not a very practical choice, considering that all the hauling of things, boxes, and children is mostly done. Spending $25.00 a day in gas to work just wasn't going to happen! At the prompting of N and Kate and their "go-get-em-tiger" cheerleading, I called and made an appointment to look at some vehicles to try and find an even trade. I was hi-rumphed at by some, saying that it couldn't be done, but I knew (or thought I knew) otherwise. But good ole N and Kate...my two best cheerleaders...they believed with me. And so the three of us amigos went car shopping this afternoon. We went to the appointment. That was strike one. Next we went to another lot. The man was nice, but said he couldn't "move" the bigger vehicles right now and just couldn't do it. Strike two. I think he felt kind of bad. I asked him if there was anywhere else to go that would be open later in the evening, and he sent us to one more place. At this place, there were several cars that were within the range of "trade-able". The man was tickled pink to have the Expedition, remarked at what good shape it was in, and how clean it was, and after he drove it, he was sold. He told me I could have any car in the whole row for an even trade. REALLY???!!??!! Grand slam! So, we started looking and ruling out this one and that...a dent here, 5 speed there, higher mileage on this one than on that one...this one is nicer on the outside, but the other one has many less miles on it...and so we narrowed it down, drove the car we all three thought was the best pick, came back, and told him we wanted to trade. Today? He asked...or would you rather come back tomorrow? My reply....nope! Not tomorrow...I want to trade RIGHT NOW. I don't want to put any more gas in the Expedition, and getting to Portland when getting off work in Hendersonville at 4:30 was pushing it. Anyone who knows me knows that once my miind is made up, there's not much that is going to stop me from getting where I want to go, one way or the other, and my mind was made up! N had her dad on the phone, the value was right, and she *really* wanted me to get it because she wished she had never gotten rid of hers. And so that is how I came to drive home a Maxima without even spending one single dollar! I had faith. I had asked God to help me find the right car, and KNOW it was the right car, and He did. Just like He had this house in line for me, the dog coming at the perfect time, the job that He allowed for me to have, and the peace that He has given me, He had a car waiting for me. I didn't even for one minute doubt that He was going to stop today...not when He has brought me this far. Another good word is "believe". I believed that there was something out there, even though others thought it was a long shot. I believed that I would find THE one, that God would lead the way, and He did.
I'm excited about the changes that my life has taken. Who would have thought that I would be saying that when just two short weeks or so ago, I was a hot mess? Not I! I'm looking forward to tomorrow....to what it brings, to see what other changes He has in store for me.
Thank you, Jesus, for taking care of me, for hearing my cries of help, and for fulfilling my needs as only You can do. Please help me remember that not all changes are bad, that I need to be joyful in every situation, every day, and to believe...especially on days when it's really hard to do so.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
This is me...introducing the letter "E"
Today's blog post is brought to you by the letter "Ee".
*Today, I feel exhausted. I feel tired and ache-y. I feel like I have spent so much physical and emotional energy in the last month-ish that I should be laying in the floor in a puddle. I want to remember where things are. I want to quit looking at boxes, boxes everywhere. I want to know what to do with the things I don't have room for, need, and can't part with...I have pared way down, believe it or not, peeps. I want to quit moving the same things around from here to there, back to here and then to there again. I want to wave my magic wand and make everything fall into place..."bibitty bobitty boo!!!" I also feel somewhat accomplished because I feel exhausted....because if I am indeed exhausted, then wouldn't it be because I was doing *something*...and I should feel good about what I accomplished to get to that state. (Am I making sense here to anyone but me? Read what I mean, not what I say.) It's funny, because you would think that being exhausted would allow one to "have a good sleep" as my Nanna Lucy would say, yet sleep eludes me. What am I running on, then? Where does this boundless energy come from? Could it perhaps be that I am strong...strong like my friends and family have told me? I will choose to believe that they are right. I am determined. And I can't get to my destination if I'm not strong enough to endure the path that takes me there. Yes, I am strong.
*The letter "Ee" is also used to spell enthusiastic. One of my all-time favorite quotes, at least in the top three if not the favorite is this: Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Tomorrow is a large part of my new life...it is the day I start working at my new job. I am excited to meet new friends, to use my brain to learn something new, to talk to people, help people. I am excited that this is a new beginning for me, and this job can be whatever I choose to make it be...and I choose to make it exciting. I will say this: I have been dreading having to go to work over the last couple of weeks or so...because I really didn't think that I had the energy or the brain capacity to learn something new, to meet new people and smile, to not be so sad that they see it, just as if I have the words "I'm sad." tattooed on my forehead. Thankfully, "sad" turned into "mad", as we all know, and "mad" fuels enthusiasm. So yes, I am excited about this new road I will be heading down, because it is an opportunity for me in so many ways.
So there you have it, friends...my feelings and thoughts and insecurities all spilled out, right in front of you...but I do believe they have progressed towards "happy" as I continue each day to fight the urge to be sad...and I feel like they show that I've healed so very much so very quickly in the last weekish, even though things are not yet all the way over the top on the "happy" meter...it's progress, and I'll take it.
I have to share a photo...just because I think blog posts should have eye candy. This was yesterday, the photo I wanted to share that wasn't there. This was the perfect ending to the perfect day. Ice cream cones on the porch, chatting, and then playing at the park for a while. I just love those kids. Love 'em to pieces.
This is me, on "Perfectly Ugly".
Yes, perfectly ugly. Delightfully ugly. And oh, so very MINE!!! I have the best friends a girl could ask for, and two of them were bound and determined to find *something* for us to sit on in the living room, and preferably something we liked, and better yet, something that would have the price tag of "next to nothing". As they were walking out of the furniture store with all of the new, high-priced furniture, the man stopped them, and they explained what they were doing and why, and he told them he might have just the perfect thing. He showed them a couch that would do...but for what it was, it still had a high price, and it wasn't spectacular, so they passed. As they were on their way out the door the 2nd time, they were stopped again...and *that*, dear reader, is when they angels sang....ahhhhhhhh......and the light shone down on the Perfectly Perfect Just For Abby spectacularly ugly in every way couch and chair. And with just the right price. It couldn't have been special-ordered to suit me any more...but this teaser will have to do for now, until I get the living room as I want it to share with you.
There's nothing much better than girlfriend time, and I've been able to have my fair share of it lately, thankfully. Tonight, we chatted until the boys fell asleep, Katie left to go to bed, and then we chatted some more. Sat on the porch (I love my porch!), used my bench I found last year while yardsaling with Barb, before "The Fall" and broke it in good and proper...sat there until 2:30 solving the problems of the world. It's good to have friends like that...the kind that know what you mean, even if it's not what you say.
I'm staying here tomorrow to work on the house some more...it seems I've done a lot of everything except getting settled while I've been off...but the necessities are coming along nicely, and the rest I'll work on in the evenings as I have time...not gonna stress over it....gonna enjoy it instead. I've had enough stress lately, doncha think?
Happy Fourth, friends!
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