Fragile - Handle with care

It is the last day of February, wow where did those 28 days go? I am not even sure what to make of this past month. Some days went quickly, others felt they were 3-days long. I've come to the conclusion that it is just going to snow forever, even if it gets warm outside. Seriously, we are doomed. There is more snow forecast for this weekend. I walked through the halls at work the other day going, "well, today is day 421 of snow" and everyone felt the same way I did. I'm so over it.

Not too much to really report. I'm on day 8 of meds. I am happy to report that I am experiencing the full spectrum of effects while my body adjusts to it all again. Oh how I had hoped I would have skipped this part or it at least would have been mild. Although I am not beating my head on the desk (yet), it could happen. I am glad that some of the things I have been going through the past week make the "common" list or what they say is more than 1 in 100 people experience.

• feeling anxious/nervous - yup, I feel like I am going to crawl the walls - or whatever I can!
• teeth grinding - I do this anyways, so not sure it can really be counted.
• chest pain/difficulty breathing - feel like someone kicked me in the chest and is still standing on it.
• sleepiness/tiredness - even a good night's sleep is not keeping me from looking and feeling like a zombie.
• muscle spasm or jerking of all extremities - oh, this is the lovely one that I had forgotten about and am so thrilled it has returned for a repeat performance. Can't forget the nervous shakes that like to go along with this too.
• increased emotional intensity - nothing like feeling like you are going to break out crying at any given moment for any random reason - or no reason at all.

So, for lack of a better explanation, Blewy is pretty fragile right now - handle with care.

Can't say the emotional roller coaster is playing to my advantage as far as happily functioning in the real world and it is ok because I know it is only temporary. Ah! Awareness and dialectics pays off. I know why I feel this way and I know it will pass. It is only a temporary side effect that is making me want to crawl up in a corner and disappear.

It's kind of a DBT skills extravaganza. We have our mindfulness/awareness for the reality of the situation. I have been tolerating a large amount of distress. Let's say that my blue donkey is getting pretty tired of seeing me. Matter of fact, I'm hanging with donkey so much that I would have to work to find the pink elephant at this point. Emotional regulation - bahahahahahahaha! Yah, review the list above. My ER is pretty much hanging by a thread at this point and I am hoping that I am using that really strong thread.

One might ask why I am still taking the stuff if it affects me this way. Simple, it works. Among all the crazy acclimation things, ironically, my mind is quieting and the hopelessness feeling has started to diminish. I can tell even in this short time. I am not sure if that is good or bad - was it really so bad that it is obviously changing this quick? I can also tell because after hour 8 or so I start to crash off the stuff. Yah, I metabolize it pretty quick so the whole 24 hours in your system stuff doesn't apply. And when it's not in your system, it emotionally feels like hell has broke loose. It is the "I remember this" emotions and feelings that you really don't want to remember. The positive is that I think that I have come up with a dosage schedule that seems to be working pretty good. See, more DBT skills - pros and cons - which is better, waking up with anxiety in the morning or having an anxiety attack at 4 pm in the afternoon?

It is going to be just fine. It's better than some other stuff I have taken in the past. I fondly remember the meds I was on that lived up to the "may make you suicidal" side effect. Yah, that one wasn't fun. Or the stuff that actually made my anxiety worse. Not sure if it ever helped the depression, I was too busy having panic attacks. So, I choose the medicine I am on now because I know it works. I know it has worked in the past and that the craziness will start leveling out soon (really soon I hope).

For the meantime though, I pray for patience. Patience for myself, and patience for all those who are having to interact with me through this. Although I am trying to steer clear of people while I get adjusted, I have a feeling I am going to owe a few people dinner to beg for forgiveness.

Championship game

I may have finally met my match in class. I get why they teach things in the order they do. It is my guess that when you get to this point, if you don't have some grasp on the other sections, you might just duck and cover and run for your life. Then again, even if you do have a little grasp on the rest, you might still want to pack up and bolt. Breathe, Blewy, just keep breathing.

It is like reaching that championship game after a tough playoff series. A part of you is excited that you made it this far, impressed with the effort you have given. There's that pride of making it this far as the road was not the easiest and there were many moments where you thought all was lost, and in the end you pulled it off.

Then the fear sets in - you have been the underdog through all of this and now you are meeting up with the top seed and the odds may or may not be in your favor. This will be your toughest round if for no other reason, because you will have to admit that you really do have it in yourself to win.

This one isn't about luck. It is about heart, it is about looking at yourself in the mirror and honestly believing you have it in you to do this. All the saying, all the mantras, were they just words or are they power.

For our little pup in the last post who finally got the courage up to go sit and eat his cookie next to the person offering it, now he has been told, "now I'm going to show you how you can ask for a cookie anytime you want one." The assumed response of the pup may be excitement, a cookie anytime he wants!! The truth is, the first thought, while slowly moving backwards is, "I don't need a cookie that bad." The idea of it all stirs up some feeling, emotion, or memory from his past and suddenly cookies are just not as appealing as they used to be, especially if he has to ask for them. The whole concept spooks him.

I guess you could compare last night to warm-ups. Anyone who has played in a championship game knows that the last thing you really do in warm-up is warm up. That is when you get a moment to size up the competition. What can you learn about them in just that small amount of time. You have to be careful though, psychologically, games can be won or lost at this very moment. As a coach you prepare you team for this, and as an athlete, you ignore the coach.

Information and action. That is what it comes down to. Information - not that scary. So we learned about the situations for Interpersonal Effectiveness: attending to relationships, balancing priorities and demands, balancing the wants to should's, and building mastery and self-respect. I'm still a little fuzzy on a bit of it. I will use my time before next class to try and figure it out better. Afraid to ask for help about the section on asking for help. Yes, this is my life, I can't make up stuff better than reality.

We went over goals, which were pretty explanatory. It makes sense on the rational side which makes my little logical brain a happy little camper while on the emotional side, it's pretty much a meltdown. You see, at the end of the day, it would seem that to make all this work, one will have to accept that they are deserving (of a certain outcome, of a role in a relationship, of having self-respect and worth). That is a big step to take.

I have an all-or-nothing issue. If I truly stand up and say I am deserving, then I am deserving from today and everyday forward. It is not a day to day concept or when I feel it/don't feel it. No, it's all or nothing. Even when I struggled that small time with expressing I was of worth, I knew in my heart I was still. You see, when I stood up and took ownership of that last fall, it was mine. It wasn't today I am of worth, tomorrow I am not. Sure tomorrow I may struggle to feel it, though it does not mean I don't believe that I am of worth. All or nothing.

You don't get to all-or-nothing without giving up things. Getting healthy comes with sacrifices and letting go. And with that we have the big long page of IE myths. The page that makes me go, "you know, can't really say I liked cookies to begin with" while slowly moving backwards toward the door. The homework is simple and we have had this before. A statement (myth) is given and you write a challenge to it.

I will do the homework. It will not be easy, it will give me a headache, I will have anxiety issues, and I will probably get up and walk away from it at least ten times before finishing. I will fight with my feelings and emotions. I will most likely cuss a lot. Although I will try to be aware of it, I am guessing a lot of self-judgement is going to happen. One might say this is the pre-game exhibition between rational and emotional mind.

It is not that it is hard in the sense of the task. Read the statement, write a response. Simple. The thing is, myths or not, many of these have been all I have known throughout my life. Even unhealthy thinking, it has been the process that has kept me going at one time or another. Some may be keeping me going at this very moment. Once I challenge them, they no longer are valid. I can't use them anymore. My security blanket will be taken away and there I will be, vulnerable as hell as I haven't learned enough to either replace the blanket or realize I don't need one anymore. Again, all-or-nothing. Once that pen hits the paper, that option is off the table forever.

So, here we are, in the championship game. The whole outcome sits in my hands. The game hasn't even started and I am harboring fear. That is an awfully big opponent I am about to face and I have not been able to find enough information to scout them out as well as I would have liked before getting to this point.

What I need to remember is, even though I haven't faced this opponent before, I have been in championship games. And I have won.

Help by choice

We start a new section tonight in class - Interpersonal effectiveness. Yes folks, this is the whole section where I learn to ASK FOR HELP! Is it too late to drop out of class?

Although I feel that I have come a long way when it comes to asking for help, assistance, direction, or whatever synonym we would like to use, I still have a way to go. I thought it might be interesting to just talk about how I ask for help (or don't) now, and then at the end of the section or class, come back around and revisit this and see if I have chosen to change my methods at all. A little case study you might say.

Now, let me note something here. This is not asking for directions at the gas station. I really have no problems asking generalized questions to random people. I can start up conversations with complete strangers, not too much of an issue. It is when the question has some relation to me. If my personal well being is the focus of the need, question, etc. then it becomes a whole new ballgame.

I take a risk in writing this. These are my tricks and trades. These are the things that I hope no one really realizes that I do and if they do, I appreciate that they don't call me out on it. Yet, it's about getting healthy and sometimes that means putting it *all* out there. Why stop now.

It has been very hard to get past the many years of "you don't ask for help" and "you don't bother others with your problems" or "unless you are dying, don't be a burden." Matter of fact, those thoughts continue to hang out in the back of my mind. No matter how much one may say they are not being bothered, annoyed, or put out (or that they will tell me if they are), my mind wants to counteract with the thought that they probably really do feel one of those and they are just being nice as not to hurt my feelings. I often wonder if that will ever go away. It also fuels a lot of wasted energy to ask without asking.

Most times, if I need help, I "compromise" which goes something like this: I have a question, issue, problem, (whatever), and I need help. I don't want to ask someone directly because they will most likely say they will help. The problem is, that if the situation becomes burdensome, etc., and they continue to stay helping, then I feel bad for even bringing it up in first place. You have become "one of those people" whose appearance or contact is preceded with a deep sigh or a "crap, they found me" thought.

Therefore, sometimes I put the need out there in a neutral location, kind of like setting it out on a table. If someone walks by and sees the need sitting there and they choose to pick it up and help, then they have made the choice to help. If the issue becomes burdensome, yes, I will still feel bad, yet they chose to get involved, I didn't ask them to.

Maybe think of it this way. Instead of going door to door soliciting donations for something, I just leave the can on the counter at the gas station with contact information if you want to get more involved. If the can gets filled, it gets filled. If they call, they call. If it doesn't it doesn't. No one was burdened. If my help gets picked up off the table, awesome. If it doesn't, no one is put out. Sure, I most likely still need help, yet I will figure it out somehow.

And then there is when you know you are just going to have to ask for help. You have exhausted all other options, you are going to have to ask. What do you do then? Giving in and asking someone in your circle of friends is ok, yet what about people outside that circle. This is where you start with testing the water, because we couldn't just come right out and ask for what we really need, now could we? I may ask several questions about several things over a period of time before I finally get up the courage to ask what I really need/want to ask.

Here is the irrational rationale: The main thing I want to ask is something important to me. If I am taking a risk to step out of my comfort zone and to ask it, then the last thing I am wanting is rejected right off the top. Even if I trust you, I'm still going to be hesitant to throw something out there. Therefore, what are some smaller questions that I can put out there to see how one will react. If you get shot down on those, then you really are not out anything, yet you know not to proceed to the big question. I know, this really puts people in a guilty before proven innocent role, yet sometimes we learn survival skills to do just that - survive.

Think of a dog that has been abused and you are trying to befriend him by offering him a cookie. The first time you interact, he may stay far away, sniffing the air, seeing you have something good, yet that's it. Then next time, he may wander a little closer, tail between his legs and head down, testing to see how you are going to react - are you going to take the cookie away or yell?  Then next time, he comes up to you, yet still stays arm distance away. He doesn't look up at you, yet gently reaches out to take the cookie from your extended arm then bolts away before eating it. So, each time, he gets a little closer, stays a little longer, seems a little more relaxed. Eventually, he comes up, sits next to you, tail wagging, eyes up, and eats the cookie there.

And the process of asking someone for help just kind of repeats itself. Each time my mind goes through all the tricks and processes to try and establish one simple question, is it safe for me to ask this question?

And, if it is not, is the risked outcome worth it?

In its time

I may have spoken too soon. I have a habit of doing that at times. (Is it really a "habit" if you only do it "at times"?) Anyways, I've been a little expressive in how well I have been lately. How nice it has been to feel good, etc. Not bragging or boasting, just sharing my happiness. I've allowed myself to turn around and look and tell myself, "you were there (and look far, far away into unhealthy land) and now you are here (much healthier land)." I've allowed myself to stand out in the open and feel the warmth of the sun instead of hiding in the shade and just looking at it from a distance, wondering what it felt like. And it has been nice.

At the end of session today I made a short comment in regards to how a small part of me is waiting for the shoe to drop. This is the pattern I am used to - good things, great times, then all hell breaks loose. Whether reality or not, it always seemed there was a definite ratio to it all. More good now = more hell later. It's one of the reasons I started backing away from going and doing and having fun and enjoying. Sure, I missed out on a lot, yet the return payback to balance out things was not as intense. I'm sure this is one of those myths that would show up in our class binder "the more fun I have the more I will have to pay for it later" (or something like that). Like I said, reality (myth) or not, it sure always felt like it was real.

I'm having a moment. This is what I am calling it because it is my hopes that it stays just as that - a moment. It showed up about and hour ago, yet it will pass. I know it will. This is the difference, I now know these types of "moments" will pass, they will not consume me, they will not destroy me. They still hurt a little around the edges though.

At the time, anxiety has a bit of the upper hand. Focus is pretty much gone. The nerves have me jittery. Yes, this is where you start asking what is the trigger, what is the purpose, etc. It's ok, I don't have to get all into that here. I have that part figured out and that is why I am not freaking out on top of it all, just trying to let it pass by without too much incident.

I chuckle a little. Maybe it feels more intense because my mind has been quieter lately. It still goes at a good pace, yet either there has not been as much going on at once in there or what seemed like a tangled mess has just worked some kinks out. It has been different and it has been well with me. Isn't there some saying about not realizing something until it has been gone? Oh wait, wasn't that about love? Oh heck, sure don't want to go there!!! Better find a different saying to apply here.

I can't expect it to be sunshine and rainbows all the time. As I keep being taught, do what I need to do, learn what I need to learn, so hopefully the good lasts longer and the rough lasts shorter and the number of good outweighs the rough. It's happening. When life punches me in the chest, it doesn't knock the wind out of me anymore, it just catches me off guard. When I fall, I hardly need a band-aid anymore. For the most part, even the moments of heartache are not as painful (although those still have a ways to go).

There's still something deep in me hiding out. I feel it. I can't tell you what it is, I just know it is there. It shows up in times like this. I've called it and compared it to a lot of things, the soda can about to explode, my soul being lit on fire, the storm coming in, and more. It's that thing that always made me want to scream at the top of my lungs or punch something just to release it. Not sure if it is anger, frustration, grief, anxiety, fear. Seriously, no clue, it is just something.

It has some kind of mass, even if it is emotional, it is large/strong enough that I feel it. I'm glad it only comes around at times, it would be a lot to take all the time. Then again, I remember when it was around all the time - maybe that is why I still find it so confusing. I'd gladly give it up if I just knew what it was. It sure isn't doing me anything good, at least that I can identify. In time, as with all the healing I have done, it will subside or it will resolve. In its time.

Again, I remind myself, I am safe. Whatever this moment is, it can't physically hurt me. It has no power to do that. I am in control of that choice. I am good. It may have waves of feeling like it could, yet it cannot. Emotionally it is doing it's best to leave a mark, and even if it does, I know it won't be as deep as in the past. No more gaping wounds, at least not today.

So I beat on my chest till my song has been sung

And I cry like a wolf at the top of my lungs

And stand with my face to the wind

With the storm beating down on this sacred ground

If I stand for the grace that I've known

For what I believe

Then I won't stand alone

No I won't stand alone

Breakfast at Blewy's

I used to be able to tell the weather during the night without ever opening my eyes. Ali would go out and about and come back in. She generally brought some smell with her. The worst was wet dog. I cannot think of too many things worse than wet dog. Ok, maybe the time she played in the manure pile at the farm, yes, that tops any list of bad smells, yet, for general smells, wet dog will wake you up with no problems.

Last winter we went several months with "what is that horrid smell" wofting through the living room. It was finally concluded that something had gotten into the crawl space and died. I just crossed my fingers that it would decompose before summer rolled around. Life was good there and I did not have to go into the belly of the beast and search it out.

Last night I laid in bed, all tucked in, comfortable, and warm. I took a deep breath to relax. Upon inhaling I was once again, "what is that!" You go through the list - no, not a candle still burning. No, not a dirty dishrag. No, not something burning. Yes, that is trash. What the heck is in my trash can (I had just emptied it the night before) that smells like that? In my tiny little house, my bedroom is off the kitchen and the trash can sits right in the doorway. Yup, something evil had spawned in the trashcan. Seeing I was really cozy, I just threw the blankets over my head and decided to deal with it in the morning.

Tonight when I came home from work, the house had a whole new flavor to it. You see, there really is a reason I say that I can't cook. It's not a judgmental statement or a put down. No, it is pretty much a general statement of fact. Granted, I am getting better, yet there are just some things I am destined never to win with - namely, breakfast.

Let me tell you that the smell of annihilated, burnt turkey bacon can resonate for hours....several hours.Yah, so how does one utterly destroy food in such a manner? The microwave. Yes, this is another microwave cooking failure. One would think that I had learned my lesson with the tilapia (hey, it said it could be cooked in the microwave!) Here's the thing - if the package says I can cook it in the microwave, I am going to try and cook it in the microwave.

The package said, for four pieces, 3 1/2 minutes. And then that typical "microwaves may vary" line. Ya think? I mean, I like crispy bacon, yet I could have used this stuff as brick and mortar. Well, the positive....it was done....REALLY DONE....yet done!

I have taken a lot of grief over this today so I thought maybe I read the directions wrong. I checked them when I got home, and nope, I was right, it really says 3 1/2 minutes. One friend said, did you not smell it? Yah, I smelled it, it smelled like bacon cooking. Really, didn't smell burnt - not sure if that is good or not - at the time it cooked, yet my house now smells like a bad morning at the roadside cafe.

Again, I find myself sitting and laughing at it all. I chalk it up under another "I can't make up stuff better than this" and just shake my head. I do lead quite an interesting life and for the most part, whether it is good or bad, it is never really dull.

It took me years to figure out scrambled eggs so that they were not runny. It would seem that I still have a ways to go with bacon. Tomorrow, I think I will stick to yogurt.

Went running

I went for a run. Yes, sounds kind of funny coming from me, doesn't it? Don't think I have ever seriously said that. Know what, I went for a run. Ok, a walk with lots of spurts of a pace that may have been running, yet I think it counts as "a run." How's that! Ok, so I got 3.1 miles in a little over 54 minutes which I am still on the fence as far as calling it acceptable or not. If I figure in some of the factors - half the route was a steady incline, I had a nasty headache, it was really cold - then I guess not breaking 52 is ok. An hour and a half later I take a deep breath and remember, oh find the good in this....the good....I RAN! I have done my little spurts on the treadmill, yet never out on the road yet. [Beats on chest - I AM OF WORTH!]

March 8th is my first run for the season. The Earth, Wind, and Fire 5k run on campus. I did this back in 2011 with Jordan. There is also a 2.5k (a little over 1.5 mile) walk and that is what we did back then. It took me 45 minutes to walk the 2.5k and I was the last to cross the line. Matter of fact, they may have been starting to hand out awards when we finally hit the finish line, yet I finished. Therefore, I should not be giving myself grief on going twice as far in just under 10 minutes more.

I have a lot of thoughts when I look at this photo. Considering I am sitting here in the same grey hoodie (I sleep in it now), I understand now why it is so big on me. Wow, I have lost a little bit of weight. I was thinking the other day that there are people in my life now that never knew me as the bigger person. I'm not sure what to make of that, if anything. For me, my life has this big divider, pre-surgery and post-surgery Blewy. My life before and my life after. It is kind of odd to think that there are people who only know me post-surgery. I guess there are still people who haven't seen me for a long time that I would still be in the pre-surgery category with. It's just odd. That is about the only word I can come up with most of the time....odd.

I'm the same person, just a smaller version. I'm just as funny and kind hearted as I always was. I would still give the shirt off my back to anyone who needed it, except you can't fit multiple people in it - it's a total 1:1 ratio now. I give much better hugs now because I can get my arms around people better. I remember a while back a friend gave me a hug - the first since I had lost all my weight. She exclaimed, "Oh my heck! I can get my arms around you!!!" So, I guess my weight loss means people can give me better hugs too! Still pretty firm on my "hugs make the world a better place" stance.

People say that I have changed. They say I am happier, that I look like I enjoy life more. They tell me I smile more and laugh more. Well, this could make sense, considering that I can actually breathe when I move, it does leave room for smiling and laughing. They talk about how I don't talk down about myself like I used to. I am not sure if that is from the weight loss, the things I am learning in class, or a mix of both. I would guess the latter.

I actually got to thinking the other day, I don't put myself down like I used to. Oh, I did it well. Humor hides pain, and I had a lot of pain. I wasn't happy with myself on a lot of levels and really had no clue how to fix that, so to deal with a lot of it, I joked. I made a lot of mean and cruel comments - all pointed at myself. I would laugh, everyone else laughed, the world went on. If I try to figure it out, I guess it was kind of a defense mechanism. If I made fun of myself first, then that either took the option off the table for others, or made it a little harder for them. Tell myself I am worthless, then if someone else tells me, it is not that bad because I have already come to the conclusion. Plus, I really did not like myself, so it was pretty easy to do. Wow, that is kind of sad, really sad. No wonder everyone seems happy that I don't do that anymore.

When I say "life is different" it really is, on so many levels. In just under two years, my whole world has changed. Apparently, I really am a survivor. I was at a doc appt the other day and was sharing about myself, my past, etc. and she just looked at me and said, "I'm impressed you do as well as you have." This is not the first medical professional that has said something similar like this to me. I actually used to hear it on a regular basis for a while.

I was never quite sure how to take it. I think it is a complement, yet then again, it's a little sad that this is the complement that I receive. I just find myself often going, "um, thank you" and often wonder just how I would be if I was not doing so great. What's the comparison? Not sure I want to know.

We did get to laughing about it though. We came to the conclusion that I was a "scrapper" and I liked that term. Yah, Blewy the scrapper! Don't tell me I can't do something, I will show you. Yup, red-headed and stubborn, and proud of it. She told me that this was probably the attitude that has kept me going for all these years.

And so another day is about to be retired. The longer I sit here, post-hot shower, the more I wonder if I am going to be able to get up and walk to bed. I may have only gotten 54 minutes, yet I worked for every one of them.

Yes, I did. 'Cause I'm a scrapper!

Just a Saturday

I have the coolest toys. Yes, I really do. Therefore when any kind of job that requires power tools needs done, it is trip to my house.

Monday is TKD promotion test so we had to chop down some pine boards for the kids to break. I always breathe deep when my brother plays with my saws. He wasn't really the one in the family to get the carpentry genetics. I let him play though, and I keep my phone close to call 911.

We had some odd sized pieces, so what else do you do with them except break them! I haven't broken boards for a lot of years, so I finally got to hit something and not feel guilty or have to follow it up with apologies. It's not really a surprise that I've been wanting to plow my fist through anything for a while now. So we can just call this, a controlled environment, yes, that sounds wonderful! JB tried to hold it, yet he just wasn't strong enough. That strike will probably bruise. The next shot though, my brother held it and I popped through it like it was paper. Of course he looked at me and said, you know if that bruises you are going to have to explain it to your therapist!

As I said, I have the coolest toys and JB's eyes lit up when I pulled out the double sided axe. This is one heavy axe. I told JB it wasn't like the machete, it actually had some heft and could hurt him. [Yes, I own a machete, a very sharp one. I bought it one year at roadside flea market in Arkansas.] I turned him loose in the brush pile at the back of the yard. I stood far, far away. After four swings, I took it away from him in fear that someone was going to end up going to the hospital. He's just waiting for the weather to get nice so he can use the chainsaw. Pretty soon they are not going to allow him to spend so much time with me!

It is nice to be home today. I feel like I have been going non-stop for a long time now. Even when I was home, I couldn't seem to feel relaxed. I continue to see things coming together and making sense. Between things I learned from Lisa, class, therapy now, any my own research, it feels like things are starting to make some sense. For the longest time I seemed to have all these pieces and parts. I'd identify something and then not know really what to do with it or how it fit into the larger puzzle. It was like having all these post-it notes filling up a wall, yet not a lot of rhyme or reason to them.

Some of it is coming together on its own. I guess I just had to wait until the right time - all things have their season. I also think that a change of vision is helping. I have been trying this week to change how I view "here" in the sense of it all seems so chaotic, like something is always off. Now, I made the goal to start physically taking control of my surroundings, which I am doing very well with. Again, it was not how big or how much, it was just doing something every day and this I have done.

I've tried to move away from the "this is chaos" mindset. This is my world, and my world is a little crazy sometimes, yet I don't care for it to be chaotic. Therefore, if I don't want it to feel chaotic, I need to not look at it that way. Again, one of those things that I am not sure how you would really explain. There seems to be a lot of power in just changing the way you look at something. I keep doing the little "experiments" like changing how I look, react, or interact with something. For the most part I cannot change life or control what it throws at me, yet I can adapt how I look at it and react to it and interact with it. Sounds good on paper, and so far seems to translate well into action.

I also decided to get back on some medication. You know I have humbled myself to life when I finally give in and do this. I made about two years or so off of it, yet I have just continually found it more and more difficult keeping the depression under some control. When everything else emotionally was out of whack, it did not seem to stick out so bad. I had hoped as things were healing and I was getting healthy, that it too would ride the uphill path. It hasn't seemed to move too far and with its little surge there at the holidays, it's been a little rougher than normal to keep in check. So I'm back to being a happy little Zoloft blob.

It will work. If I have learned anything over the past many years, it is the needs of my body. Sure, I don't always act upon them as I should, yet I am able to recognize when something is off. I'm staying at a low dose, probably around 50mg. Considering I was at 200mg when I went off of it, this is good. And, I'm looking at it as hopefully a short term solution, yet I will let life and the doctor make that decision. I do know that if I go off it, I won't cold turkey it again. It's about HEALTHY choices now.

It's been a lovely few days as it gets back into my system. Even at the lower dose, I knew there would be the "getting used to" side effects. Those come no matter what psych drug you take. I have had a few days of a migraine and hypersensitivity to sound (I hate to think how much I have said "Shhh, too loud" in the past 48 hours). Doesn't take long for the side effects to kick in. It generally takes about a week for it all to start leveling off. Again, kind of sad that I am so knowledgeable on this.

And there we have it. A simple, for the most part quiet, Saturday. Things are calm and well. I will take it.

TBT - Letting go

I do a lot of posting about my missionaries as well as when I was a missionary myself. Missionaries have been a part of my life for a long time. Back in 1978, a set of missionaries started meeting with my family and teaching them. I was 7 and would not be baptized until almost a year later, yet I was smitten as much as a 7 year old could be with Elder Bishop.

Oh the innocence of a child. I remember more emotions and feelings that actual memories from that time. I do remember being so sad when Elder Bishop was transferred. My first heartbreak. He would come back for a visit about 5 years later, except he brought this woman with him he called his wife. Heartbroken and devastated, I would have to let him go - LOL!!

That seemed like a whole different lifetime. I often wonder what life looked like from that vantage point. Too young to understand the harshness of things, the cruelty of people. It would still be almost two years before hell started breaking loose, or until I was old enough to remember it for the next 30+ years.

He is still around, living out west. I made contact with his son a few years ago and recently saw where he had joined Facebook. I sent a request, yet I don't really expect a reply. I was just one of hundreds of people he met as a missionary, I would be surprised if he remembered me. We will see!

It would seem that I have done pretty good with letting go of things lately. Not that I consciously was going "ok, going to let this go now" as I am not sure how one would actually do that. I just came to some conclusions on some stuff, accepted other stuff for what it is/was, and decided that some answers are ok to not be found. I guess this is how you let go.

There actually was another photo I wanted to use to today yet it seems to be MIA. I have similar ones, yet they all include my ex in them and the last thing I want to do is immortalize that. The photo was an older one of me and my buddy Pastor Becky. Since the story I am about to share was from that time of the old photo, thought it would be perfect. All is well because we caught up with each other back in September when I was on my birthday weekend "visit as many people as you can" adventure, and there's a photo of us from that!!

So in class last night we did reviewing and one of the things was being non-judgmental. The review homework was to be aware of the thought you have of/toward yourself and try not to be judgmental of those things. Change comes with practice and time. I know this as I pulled it off once. Unfortunately, I didn't have the skill set to maintain it.

Back in spring 2001, I started attending the Disciples of Christ church for a while. I wasn't able to really go to my church and I had no desire to attend my ex's, so some friends told me I should go over to DoC and meet Pastor Becky. They spoke highly of her and said we would really hit it off as friends. They were right. We shared a lot about life, the meaning of it, dealing with it, and more. It was going into the Easter season and we talked a bit about sacrifice and giving things over to the Lord. I told her I had an idea, a test I would try. It would only be known for a long time between me, her, and the heavens. We would see how it turned out.

One aspect of my life that was in full force was the self-hate. As easy as it was to love others, I just never could grasp loving myself. I put on a good show, yet inside it was a deep battle. This was my plan - I would try and turn over my self-hate to Christ during the Lenten season. I would try to be aware of my thoughts and each time I thought something hateful about myself, I would stop and replace it with something good. As small as that might as been (some days it was just complementing myself that I remembered to wear a bra) it had to be replacing a bad with a good. This was my plan. Becky and I would revisit it later to see how it went.

It was a constant, non-stop activity. I didn't realize how nasty I was to myself in thought and word. Yes, because if I said something derogatory about myself, I had to negate it as well. I remember once in a while I would realize I had gone hours without thinking something negative. I would think, "wow, that is kind of awesome." A few hours would grow into several hours, then even days. Somehow I was taking power and making changes. I remember toward the end of the experiment, waking up one morning and feeling good, feeling happy. The first thoughts of the day were not dark and nasty, yet positive and uplifting. With each recognition, I thanked the heavens for the healing. When Becky and I met back up again to talk about it, she noted that she knew change was happening because she could see it in my countenance. We had pulled off a mighty change, and it felt good. I remember just feeling good - about life and about myself.

Becky left a few weeks later for St. Louis. We would stay in touch regularly and often would go back and talk about the many things learned by each of us in that short time. We still talk about it to this day, yet we have many more years of memories to add to the conversation. My small win with the self-hate would slowly start to dissipate and eventually was gone to history. I didn't understand how to hang onto it then, yet I do now. I've been blessed over these past many months to let the hate go, to quiet the destructive thoughts, to see good in myself. Even if I start slipping backwards, I understand that it is just a moment and I have safety ropes and lifelines to grab at every step. I do not have to return to that place of hate and destruction. I can choose to never go there again, and this I have chosen.

So, yes, lots of letting go recently. Lots of letting go along the way that I am just now starting to see. As my friend in Charleston always tells me, "Let go and let God."

Big red cups

A couple weeks ago I did the whole "I'm not going to write anymore" thing which managed to last for about 4 days until my poor brain thought it was going to explode. When I sat down to write again I started out my post describing a certain situation. While writing, the missionaries came over for dinner and a visit. I was sharing with them what I was writing and how my mind was trying to explain something. I then thought, why not see if we can get the words to translate into reality. They were game for the experiment and the "cups" lesson was born.

Each person involved gets 10 "red solo cups" and the task is "build a pyramid (4, 3, 2, 1)" with the cups. The pyramid has to be built on their extended arm. They cannot set the cups on anything nor can they lean them on anything. Encourage them to be aware of their thoughts while doing it - is it easy, hard, frustrating, fun, etc. Take 5 minutes or so to do this. Some may do it, yet most probably won't be able to. Let them try a few times. Then, ask them do the same task - build a pyramid - yet this time they can use the table, floor, or other surface. Ask them about the difference doing it each time.

The point of the task is this - sometimes it is not the task that it impossible (or difficult), it is how we choose to do it. Many times we are quick to say "I can't" when in actuality we can if we just try a different way.

It also works the opposite way, which is where I was. I was doing great using my writing as a way to work out thoughts and feelings. When I decided I would not write anymore, that I could do the same thing in my mind, I was going from building the pyramid on a hard surface to trying to build it on my arm. The task had not changed - working through thoughts and feelings - yet how I chose to do it did.

This little lesson has taken on a life of its own within the mission. I get emails once in a while that the Elders and Sisters had done it with new companions, investigators, and members. I just smile a little bit. Apparently the yard stick lesson is running a close second, although plastic cups are easier to come by most times.

As class starts to wind down into the final weeks, we are all leading a mindfulness exercise each week. Tonight was my turn, and I did the cups. It was received very well and I enjoyed the feedback. It is really neat to hear how people perceive the exercise. As well, I really do miss being a teacher/instructor and for a brief moment, I got to be that. It was a little confidence booster, I did good and it was fun. I'm excited to see what everyone else does.

I'm doing good. I really am. Things are coming together and making sense. Somewhere over this past week, I found something - a renewal, a strength, a deep breath. I woke up this morning and life just "looked" different. Not sure how to describe that really, for once it was not as overwhelming. There is suddenly meaning, strong meaning, behind the words - I'm going to make it. I've got this. I can fix this. I am fixing this.

About a week and half ago I started tagging "and I am safe" on the end of my phrases. Whether it was "I'm ok" or "I can beat this" or "I am of worth" I added the additional phrase. I even said it many times just on its own. I think it made a huge difference. There is a great power in being safe. You can be ok and not be safe. You can be a lot of positive things and not be...or feel safe. I don't know really why I decided to do it, other than I kept running into some fear issues that I wasn't really sure where they were coming from and I got tired of being caught off guard. I quickly learned that when anxiety or fear tried to come on, just simply telling myself I was safe would deter it. Amazing, isn't it? Of course, it only works if you believe it. So I am keeping it as part of those many daily moments I remind myself that it's going to be just fine. There is a calmness that comes from knowing you are safe....from the world and from yourself.

So I came back with a different view of things. I have started putting my physical world back together. I was telling Jordan this morning of all the project we have lined up for through the summer. He looked at me and said, "Is this because you got a new fridge?" I just laughed and said no, it was decided on the way home from Arkansas. (Of course, the new fridge is a nice start!) I am making it my goal to do something each day. It is not about how much or how big, just something. It will eventually get done as long as I just keep moving forward.

Seems there is a pretty good grasp on the emotional and physical, which just leaves the spiritual. My testimony of the truthfulness of the gospel remains strong. I still struggle though. Still so many conflicts between what I feel and what I know - the rational and emotional. I committed to work on wise-mind this week, maybe this a good one to apply it to. I will be back to church this Sunday, skipping is over. Every missionary I saw this past week called me out on skipping (they know me way too well) or trying to skip. They all committed me to getting my tail back to church. And since I can't tell them no (and because I know I need to be there to keep healing) I will go. Plus, I really do like church. The peace with all this will come too.

And so I walk a little taller, smile a little bigger, laugh a little louder. It is going to be ok...I have finally gotten to a point where I not only think it, I know it.

Faith has become perfect knowledge.

Disciples of the Lord

Elders Brown, Reay, Vaka, Jones, Brooks, and D'Ewart

In the Book of Mormon there are several stories about "Alma the younger and the sons of Mosiah." These four spent a large amount of time for years trying to destroy the church any way they could. (I guess some things don't really change through time, I went to school with some kids whose fathers were pastors and they were pretty rebellious too.)

One day an angel appears to the four and commands them to stop their evil course. Other events transpire and in the end Alma and his friends are all converted to the Lord. They would go on to minister of Christ together, yet after a while Alma went one direction and the three sons of Mosiah went another so more people could hear the gospel. The story continues that many years later, while journeying and preaching, Alma ran into his friends and all rejoiced to see one another again, and even more so that they all were still strong in the faith.

I had the chance this morning to catch up with more of my missionaries that had previously served in Danville. As each set got there my heart swelled and I rejoiced to see them again. Elder Jones had transferred out back in September, Reay earlier in the year, Jones and Brooks back in December. Of course, I got to meet two more to add to my family, Elders Vaka and  D'Ewart. We laughed and I listened to them talk about the things they have learned since leaving the area. They all had grown so much. Their eyes shined as they talked about things and their spirits testified of stories. They had changed, and it was a wonderful thing to see.

Elder Brown wanted to know how I was really doing. You can communicate a lot in email, yet to sit and look into someone's eyes and ask the same questions doesn't leave room for beating around the bush. Just as Sisters Sudweeks and Scott had played a major role in this past summer/fall, it was Brown and Brooks on the Elder's side of things. I told him how I was, and even though it was still a struggle sometimes, I was doing so much better. I shared how this trip had helped quite a bit and now I had to go home and try to process a lot of it. I returned his questions back at him - we had many deep discussions in regards to his struggles as well. I asked him (as he had just asked me) on scale of 1-10, how his testimony was compared to 6 months ago. He said the biggest change was that it was now his and not someone else's that he just borrowed. I could not have been happier to hear that. I fed them, hugged them, and sent them on their way to do the work.  My boys were well, and I was happy.

"Mascoutah Selfie" with E. Zamora and Erickson!

It was a good end to the trip. Yes, the purpose of the trip was to go to Arkansas and tend to the family matters there, yet a large part of the planning of driving routes was done so I could make these visits.

Staring Thursday night in Mascoutah with Elders Erickson and Zamora, a later stop to see Sister Sudweeks and Larimer and my last stop before heading home with the six this morning. Now I have to go back and look after the ones in Danville too.

We will all see each other again and when that happens, the reunion will be just as amazing. No matter where we are on our paths, our hearts will rejoice to be in one another's presence. Until then though, we all keep fighting the battle and spreading the good word....kind of the modern day Alma and the sons of Mosiah.

Second chances..again

I really can't believe I am going to try and write a post tonight. I am so tired I can barely keep my eyes open. Knowing that once I get back home it will return to non-stop life, I need to take the chance of "down time" and throw my thoughts out there. Besides, my dead-tired writings seem to be the most honest and blunt.

First, let me note that the raven at Ravenden is alive and well. Leaving town today in the daytime, I was able to confirm that it still stands as it has all these years. I'd like to think that if you lived there, it would grow on you after a while. My old roommate was from Harvard, IL - "milk capital of the world" (or something like that) and they had this huge fiberglass cow in the town square named "Harmilda" who was the mascot for Harvard Milk Days. I thought it was tacky, she praised the thing.

I'm not sure if the raven has a name or not yet here is what I did find out - the original raven was built by the town's volunteer fire department in 1991 and was constructed of fiberglass. In 1996, vandals figured out fiberglass burns and torched the raven. The statue was rebuilt and two weeks later, it was torched again. By the end of 1996, the one that is there now was constructed - of cement stucco, coated with flame-retardant paint. Thank you RoadsideAmerica.com for your insight on this!

My visit with family went well. We were able to get through some things, yet there is still plenty more to go. Looks like I will be heading back down when the weather gets better and after my races. Jeff is doing better from his bout with pneumonia. They are getting him strengthened up and then will be sending him to St. Louis for tests. He had some sickness several years back and his liver is about shot. He says once he is strong enough, they will be putting him on the transplant list. He has done well in getting his health turned around. He is down over 100 lbs since I saw him last and has really managed to change unhealthy eating habits. I'm really proud of him.

Dusty is well. He remains an anomaly with his autism and Type I diabetes. The two together have made for quite the medical puzzle through the years. He is still die-hard NASCAR and was excited as next week is the Daytona 500 and this weekend was all the promo and qualifying. He can tell you every detail of the sport, all the drivers, their cars, crew chiefs, and who has won what and when. I think that he has taken Carla's death better than anyone. I guess when they came home from the hospital, he looked at the dogs and said, "mom is gone. she won't be back. it's sad but that is just how it is. we will go on and we're done talking about it." He was excited to see me and just as excited to tell anyone he saw that I had made it. Have to say, Dusty is the only person I would ever allow to yell across a parking lot, "Hey! This is Chrissy Lynn!" and live to tell about it. Yes, to all people in Arkansas, my name is "Chrissy Lynn" - shoot me now.

Throughout my stay I kept a small part of my awareness on myself. At first I felt a little selfish doing that, my purpose of going was to be with family and help take care of some of the needs there, then I decided that it was ok and no one was being hurt by me keeping a little focus for myself. I think it paid off. As I said before, I did a lot of listening and observing. I also tried to be aware of my feelings. How was I feeling in different conversations (sad, happy, numb, etc) and when the feelings changed, what else changed. In the quiet moments or on a drive, what was I thinking about. What was my mind working on. What did it want to work on or through. There were a couple thoughts that my mind kept going back to in those quiet times. Guess that is a small sign to focus on those first.

It's not the easiest thing to explain what I have been feeling or thinking through this trip. It is like when I would listen to someone share something heartfelt in Spanish and then someone English speaking would ask, "what did they say?" I often could not tell them. I understood what had been said, yet it was hard to actually translate the feelings and emotions of it over to English. That is kind of how I feel about these past several days. My soul heard and pondered a lot yet I don't know if I could ever really put it into words. I think my exhaustion is not so much from driving as my brain multi-tasking in overdrive. Whether I am able to explain it or not, it has been good for me.

So, it's kind of like a second chance now (or third, fourth, maybe fifth). I got about 20 miles down the road and I got hit with this huge blast of anxiety. I was trying to figure out where that came from and I realized I had just started to really think about going back home. That's the scary place where all the demons are - at least a small corner of my mind drew up that conclusion. I just took a deep breath. So what. If it is, it is. I can't run from them forever.

For several months I have been healing, growing, fighting, learning, giving in, giving up, getting back up and going again. Then there are those few demons that I have spent just as much time avoiding and running from for dear life. Running is fine until you stop to catch your breath, then it all catches up with you. You can't walk away because you always have to come back, and there they are...waiting right where you left them.

My emotional world has gotten a lot of attention while my physical world has continued to just get by. I look around and my house is in disarray. Yes, I am a bit of a pack-rat, yet it usually organized. I have stacks of stuff that I look at and just shake my head. I know I need to get through it, yet most times it feels so overwhelming to even go near it. I have half-finished projects just sitting there like they are frozen in time. They wouldn't take much to finish, it is just doing it. Then there are the projects on the "things I would really like to do" list. Yah, that pretty much a wishful thinking list that I daydream about. Not that the projects are unattainable, it's just that I am lucky to keep dishes and clothes clean, how would I ever pull off something on the big list.

I even look at myself, generally disheveled and lucky to have matching socks on (well, at least most of the time...if I even remember socks). This is not me. Ok, so it seems to be me at the present time, yet this is not who I care to be forever. Contrary to how I generally appear, I do have a small sense of style. Granted, I can dress others far better than I can myself, yet I can clean up pretty well too. Don't get me wrong, I do have my own sense of style and it is far from runway-worthy, yet normally I do wear clothes that fit and don't look like they have sat in the laundry basket unfolded for a week or so. It is good that people accept me however I look. It really is a complement to hear, "that's just Blewy."

Tomorrow I get in the car and knock out the last part of coming back. Another 4 hours or so to think and ponder. What will I change, what will change me. I have a new chance to come back and grab a hold of all aspects of my life. In those hours driving home can I change the anxiety to excitement and fear into a challenge. A part of me feels like a clock is ticking and I am running out of time to step up and take it on. My mind keeps telling me that I have let things consume me for far too long, it's time to take back control.

At the end of the day, it is my choice. It's all about choice. If I have learned nothing else from class, it is simply that.....everything is a choice.

Arkansas

It is weird being back in Arkansas. You hear phrases in life like "everything is the same but different" and that's a pretty good explanation for it.

I made this drive every year for 10 years and therefore picked up on several landmarks along the way. Seeing I have not been here since 2008, I had forgotten many of them. Even driving in the dark my mind quickly started to flash thoughts....lighthouse ahead on left, strip club that looks like a cave on the right, the intersection in Pocahontas that I always turned the wrong way on. I found myself laughing a lot at how familiar it all was. I would start thinking to myself, "have I passed the [enter landmark here] yet" and try to watch for it even in the obscurity.

I woke up early yesterday morning and knew I couldn't meet up with the the sisters in Fredericktown until the afternoon, so decided to go to the temple. It was something I wanted to do and spiritually needed to do. I knew that the inspiration to go was true as Satan was taking every shot he had to try and keep me from going. After a while I just started laughing because things were falling apart, messing up, making me frustrated and I knew it was Satan and his antics. I took a deep breath and decided that no matter what, I was going to go commune with the Lord at the temple whether Satan liked it or not. 

I knew it was the right choice as when I came around the corner on highway and the temple came into sight, I had goosebumps all over and I could just feel my spirit jumping for joy. The closer I got, the more it jumped. It had been September since I had been here last. I spent about three hours there and I was able to make some peace with some thoughts and feelings that have weighed heavily lately. Not that those answers "fix" things, yet it does give me a little extra desire to stay in the battle. One might say that I got my armor shined up and strengthened.

Leaving the temple put me in late afternoon traffic to get started south. I don't mind driving yet when you get multiple lanes of traffic with a lot of cars, I start to freak out a bit....ok, maybe a little more than that. It didn't help that it was freezing rain and my mirrors had iced over. (Seriously, can't make up stuff better than the truth). I survived, peeled my white-knuckled fingers off the steering wheel and eventually returned to 2 lanes.

After dinner left me with 3.5 hours still to go and a dark ride. I never had made the trip in the dark so it was a new experience. With having been to the temple, my mind was full of new views, new thoughts, new thoughts of old views, and more. I just started picking thoughts out and working through them as the miles added up. Sometimes it is not so much "finding an answer" as it is "finding peace with" when it comes to thinking and working through things. I'm learning more and more that finding answers in the sense of who, what, where, when, and especially why, are not always that important. Although they are nice things to know, that information doesn't necessarily bring you the final peace you are looking for. It seems that those answers often just create more questions.

As I started getting closer I let my mind take a break and went back to thinking about the landmarks. Yup, that ugly black raven (that looks like it made of chicken wire and paper mache) is still in Ravenden. I hit the edge of Hardy and rolled through downtown, noting what businesses had changed on the strip. The old gas station which had been several restaurants was now a Mexican place and the catfish diner with the huge chair out front was closed and abandoned. As I came around the corner, my attention quickly turned to the "museum" lot. There was that dang cop car with the mannequin in it. At that moment it really hit me, I was going to Carla's and she wasn't going to be there. All these fun and crazy memories that I was laughing and enjoying as I hit the edge of town had been made with Carla. They were our moments from many years of visits. I had never been here without her....until now. The remaining 10 miles were quiet. Somber and quiet.

It's been a good visit so far. I am doing a lot of listening and observing. Uncle Jeff and I have talked a lot and it is good to hear the many stories. We've been out and around and I just look over the landscape (it's beautiful down here on the edge of the Ozarks) and take it in. My mind goes back to the questions and thoughts I have been working through lately. What is here that can help me find peace? What can I learn here to help heal my soul? I listen to some of the struggles emotionally Carla was having and I am reminded of our tight genetic link. As Jeff talks about the past few years, he simply says, "she gave up." In the moment I hear that, my soul just screams at me, "you can't."

Aunt Carla passed at home quickly and painless. Home health was here wrapping her feet and legs and they were having a talk when Carla just got very quiet and then was gone. They are calling it a blood clot that caused an aneurism. Jeff talked about the large amount of people that came to her service. He talks about how Carla felt she was alone and never thought people cared about her and how he wished she could have seen everyone. I told him that she did. 

Life will go on down here. Later tonight we will start going through stuff and tomorrow I will pack up and head back. I go back with a lot of information. I go back with some changed views of things. Most of it, I wouldn't really know how to describe in words. Even though Carla wasn't here physically, she has been here.

It's the same, yet different. 

TBT - Big Red Hearts

 

Nothing says "Happy Valentine's Day" than a cheesy dance photo from the 70's! Yes, that is me in the front row, 2nd from the left. Feel free to laugh, I do every time I see this. Of all my class photos (I danced for about 10 years when I was younger - several more as an adult), I always cracked up so hard at this one simply because the group of us look like anything but ballet dancers. This may have been one of the last years I did ballet - I took it until I was old enough to start begging my mom not to make me do it. I was handed a pair of tap shoes and the rest was history. Loved tapping (still do!)

So, at picture time, the photographer would have these huge prints in order to showcase the packages, etc. There was always one that was like 17x24 or something. No, not really exaggerating there, it was huge. It almost was always one of the "elite" dancers and usually one of the same few each year. You pretty much knew who would be in the showcase photos.

Apparently I was quite photogenic that year as we came in after the promo pictures had been put out and there I was in the big, huge, possibly the size of a Macy's parade float, photo.

Now, I know this was a few years ago, yet there are some key elements that I remember without fail. That headpiece thing (and the many others through the years) were a nightmare. They dug into the sides of your head until you had bald spots on each side. They were held in place by two Bobbie pins that slipped through each side and dug deeper into your head. It was ok, I was used to that, with hair down my back that had to be put up, I had so many of those pins in my skull that I still find stray ones to this date.

I know it looks kind of plastic in the photo, yet that was good old red satin and tulle, or in other words, hot and itchy. At least the fishnet hose would not make an appearance for several more years. Talk about "burned in your brain" moments (probably anyone who ever danced will relate to this) sometimes I look at these photos and am reminded of "the talk" we would get from our instructor each year that we were NOT to wear panties under our tights because the black lights would make them glow. We were shamed through the possibility of everyone starting at us because our undies were being spotlighted on the big stage.

I remember many years ago when I was reminded of this and I thought, hey, that wasn't true. So, to those who are current little dancers, it is proper dance etiquette not to wear panties. That is what camisoles and tights are for. Know the correct reason why. It has nothing to do with your ya-ya glowing under a black light. (Because, if this is happening, there is a much bigger issue going on than the fact you wore undies.)

As for the big, huge print, I was able to relive the glory for years to come as my mom got to keep it. It hung in the house for many years until I was a teenager. I have no clue where it ever ended up. 

So, happy Valentine's Throwback Thursday!

TBT - Dance Extra 

 

The outfits did get a little better once the 80's rolled in...the poses, not so much!

Scales say good

It's been a good day today. More wins than losses! Actually, no losses. A couple "what the hell was that" moments, yet no losses. As always, a lot of learning. I'd say that is success.

Class went very well tonight. I have been struggling in there since the holidays. Not struggling with class itself, yet how I was placing myself in the context of it. Just residual fallout from the whole loss of confidence setback. I had been making progress on not comparing myself to everyone else which is good, yet I was feeling a little guilty about some "really leaning on judgmental" thoughts and comments from last week. [This week I will be working on my "think before you speak" filter] My goal was to come up with a plan for this week, decide how I was going to go into class before I got there. Let the past be the past and try to just look forward.

I decided a few things. First, don't compare myself - at least in a manner where the result would come out that I was worse or better than another (because simply, this is just not a true statement, no one is better or worse than another). If I were to compare, it would be more of a dialectic stance. If I an another seemed to be going through something similar, than I might compare how I thought/dealt with it along side how they did to see what the similarities and differences were and maybe even come up with a better way to react to the situation.

How did I do with that? I did great. I did not compare myself to anyone tonight. I allowed myself to be on a level playing field with everyone else. I did not censor or change my answers or comments based upon the replies of others. I could have, I had a couple set of answers ready for tonight that I could have chose from based upon what others shared, yet I went with plan A and did not even consider turning the page to select B or C.

I also decided to make more eye contact tonight. Generally, I don't like to make eye contact directly. I will look in the general direction, look at your shoulder, look at the wall behind you, yet not generally in a direct view. I know a lot of communication comes through eye contact, so I thought I would try to be a little more mindful about where I was focusing when engaging in discussion. I also know how uncomfortable it makes me sometimes, so why not try to step out of the box a little?

I feel I did much better with this. I usually do pretty good when listening to others and when others were talking I kept reminding myself, "eyes, look at their eyes" and seemed to stay focused with it. When it was my turn to speak, instead of looking down and talking into my book, I tried to keep my head up, and even if I didn't hit eye to eye, I tried to look around at everyone and acknowledge them visually.

I had been thinking about how I do not interact as much as I maybe could with others in the group during class. (We all do quite well before and after class) Since our group has become smaller, there seems to be more discussion between us all during class. So, for example, if someone is talking about something and struggling to find a solution, another may offer suggestions or ideas. Although I may have ideas or suggestions too, I do not always voice them. Some of the class members are very good at doing this and maybe I don't do it sometimes because I am so focused on watching them engage with each other. My people watching skills get all excited sometimes and while I am mentally taking notes on the logistics of how an interaction is happening, I forget that I might have something to add and that I should say it.

I did fine with this...maybe not the direction I should have gone with it, yet I did interact. Probably not the skill to work on when you are in one of those "life is really good at the moment" moods. I realized that it is too easy to teeter on obnoxious. So, turn up the skill, turn down the excitement. Find the happy medium that is a more appropriate behavior.

What was the word used to describe me tonight....."feisty." Yah, I was. That can be a goal for next week, get some of that out of my system before class starts or just be a little more aware of it so I can keep it in check better. In the meantime though, feisty might be what keeps me going through this next week.

As I see it, the scales seem to be tipping on the side of good day and I am going to go with it. I'm going to own it, and I am going to enjoy it. Today (even though there is not much left of it) I am not going to kick myself, beat myself up, tear myself down, or give in.

Today has been a good day, and I need those once in a while.

Because *I* was needed

I have a problem. Well, actually, it may not be a problem, so let's try for a different word. I have a situation. You see, there is something great inside of me and I can't get it to come out. I am finding it difficult to locate and bring forward just as much as it is finding it hard to locate a breach somewhere to show itself. I know it is there. I know it has been there....for a long time. Most times I refuse to believe that it is there. It is possible that at times I have gotten a hold of it, yet instead of putting it out in the forefront, I shoved it farther back in my soul. Yet, can one really deny what they know to be true? It's there. And, as all things have balance, there is darkness there too.

I know, I know. This is so 180 from how I usually think or express things. My head feels like it is going to explode from all the thoughts that have been coming and going this past week. Something kicked open the flood gates that I thought had been let down long before now. I find myself finally going back to the basics to quiet things - close my eyes and breathe. Breathe in deep, hold, breathe out. Repeat. Watch the thoughts slow down with each breath. I can't freeze them, I can only slow them down a bit. I really don't care what is there at the moment, they just need to slow down a little. Breathe in, hold, breathe out.

I am trying to keep most of it to myself, work through the thoughts as I can, try to make plans of action that seem like good routes. It is not so much an unwillingness to share, it just that there are so many thoughts that I feel like I have to pick and choose - this is what I will try to fix/work through myself and this is what I will put out there to get some feedback on. Not sure why I even try to separate it all as I go back and re-read communications and realize that some of that which I am trying to hold back is slipping out. I really need to proofread my communications better, or just quit trying to sort. I always did hate sorting and filing.

I have this great plan of reading my journals from my mission to find "that moment" when life totally changed. Like I will be reading and POOF, there it is! The magic moment. No, it's not going to happen that way. It didn't happen that way. Know why, because I know how it happened, I know what the changing moment was. I really don't have to sit and read and look for it. I know what it was because today I remembered.

At some point in Argentina I remember having the thought that God didn't need just any person there, He needed me. He needed Christy Blew. There was something unique to me that He needed that He couldn't get from anyone else. Whether it was because of some experience I had or maybe that I was the only one who could get through to someone, it had to be me. For success to happen, God didn't need just any missionary, He needed (and wanted).....me.

And that is where my life changed. I was important, and even more so, I was important in the eyes of God (heck, I was actually important to just someone). There was something about me that He saw as special. I had a purpose. I belonged. Sure, missionary life was still far from easy physically or emotionally, yet there was no longer the question of "why am I doing this" because I knew - as simple as I was, *I*, was needed. Yes, it was that simple. Then remember, by small and simple things, great things come to pass.

Coming home from a mission is not easy. You go from this 24/7 spiritual focus and high to having to live back in the "real world." You try to draw on those things you learned and felt. You try to adjust because you have seen yourself so differently than you ever did before yet you have just come back to a place that this "new you" doesn't seem to fit in. It's a tough adjustment.

There really isn't much gray area, missionaries make it or they don't. I didn't make it. In four months, I had forgotten that person God had shown me I really was. That person that God had needed so dearly was no more and the struggles of life, unhealthy coping skills, and less effective choices while trying to make some peace with myself, reminded me of it on a regular basis. Moving away helped some, yet not enough to get me to buy back into an idea of that great importance or that I was even on God's radar anymore. Getting excommunicated a few years later pretty much sealed the deal - I no longer had a purpose, I no longer belonged, I was no longer special, I was not needed. At least that is how it felt. Six months later I would spend a week in a psych unit. I fell from greatness, and I fell hard.

Now, a few years later God did manage to grab me by the collar of my shirt and tell me that He needed me back. There was work to do and He needed me to do it. Finding myself in a little better place in life, I went back. It meant making some sacrifices, yet it all comes down to where your vision is - temporal or eternal. I decided to follow the heavens over following the world. I got my membership back, yet never quite could find that glory I had in the mission.

I kept to myself. I never wanted my presence to offend anyone so I did all I could to just be there yet be invisible. I was asked to teach the investigators/new members class, which was also the class the missionaries attended. I accepted, it was a safe choice and it was the missionary class, how could I say no? There was a difference though, this time around when God said He needed me for something, my thought was "because no one else is available" instead of accepting that it was because I was someone special. I served with all I had and I made an impact, yet I kept my distance too - including from God. The last thing I needed to do was disappoint Him again.

About a year ago, when I was asked to be president of the Relief Society (the women's organization), it was the first time I really was able to recapture that vision of myself I had in the mission. This was not a calling that was given to people like me. This was for women who were married and had kids who could teach all about that stuff. And it was for women who could sew and cook and all that kind of domesticated stuff. Seriously, I was about as far on the other side of the spectrum as it could be, yet for some reason, God wanted me. As well, for what I had been through, to know that He would trust me in such a leadership position spoke volumes. It was like my mission all over again and I loved it. Humbly, I served, I loved, I made things happen, and I did it because God needed.....me. For that moment, even with the struggles of life, it was good.

Having to walk away from it, even though I knew it was the right choice, felt like spiritually it was going to destroy me. The Sunday I got released from the position, I sat there thinking, I no longer had a purpose, I no longer belonged, I was no longer special, I was not needed. Three months later, I still struggle with it. I struggle with my place in the world and I struggle with my relationship with God.

So, the question becomes, can I ever be Hermana Blew without having to have a purpose, without having to belong, without having to be special, and without having to be needed. Can I just be happy with just being the person I know in my heart and soul that I am.

Not too far away

A few weeks back I went through this "I'm not going to write anymore" moment which came back to bite me big time. There's been a lack of blog posts this past week, yet it has nothing to do with lack of writing.

There have been a lot of words put on paper this past week yet more personal or directed to certain individuals, and thus not making the public forum. This week has not been about talking to myself, its been about reaching out to others. Its been about trying to let go of some burdens that, even though they may not have been mine to carry in the first place, I took ownership of along the way. Its been about learning to let go. I will let you know how that turns out, still a little early in the process to make a determination.

Realized we are down to about 6-8 weeks left of class. Not sure I'm happy with that. It's become such a valuable resource in my healing process that the thought of it being over brings some anxiety. There are more of those "if I knew then what I know now" moments when I think back on the past several months. How I could have understood concepts more or the questions I may have asked. Ok, so I probably still would not ask questions-I'm getting better at that...slowly. I definitely look at life a lot different now. I may still struggle living in it, yet I do see it different. Now its down to how much can I learn and absorb in the short time remaining.

I picked up my journals and started reading from the beginning - my MTC journal. I had to decide how I was going to read it. Was I going to take personal investment in it or try to look at it from a third person perspective. I decided to just read and let thoughts and emotions happen as they happen. That has been quite interesting.

Even then, my writing depicts a well traveled life pattern. On an emotional rush, then by week two life kicks in with all the doubts and fears of failure. Trying to find answers to puzzles that I don't even know the questions. I find myself, all these years later, still so familiar with it.

On a certain level it is difficult to read, a reminder of how far I had not come over the years...or how far I fell back. I just want to grab the person writing those entries, hold her tight, and say, "just hang in there, the answers are going to come. It will be a while, yet they will come. Just keep fighting."

I'm reading along slowly. Some entries are easier to read than others, some get read multiple times, and some are tough to get through just once. I can't change who I was then and that is ok. My purpose is to see if I can find some the moments that took that scared person in the MTC and turned them into a great and powerful warrior by 18 months later. I'm sure I will have plenty of thoughts on that in the next few weeks as I go through the stacks.

So that's where things have been. Realizing that now is the time. The time to quit being so doubtful and afraid of change. Time to take a chance and try a little success. Time to trust a little in myself and a lot more in God.

One of the entries I just read was from an interview with one of our instructors (we had weekly interviews to talk about our progress), and she said to me, "You are spending your life putting everyone else first so they can get home, but you yourself have no clue where home is."

I figured it out then, and I will figure it out again.