Archive for February, 2015

This was the first day in a really, really long time that I am not just wiped out now at the end of the day. It’s weird and wonderful at the same time.

I think my weekend rested my body, mind and soul. I had a lot of time to think about what is going on in my life, in the lives of my children and to pray.

God has put very specific things on my heart to pray for my daughters about. Sometimes I wonder if they know just how much I love being their mom and just being together with them. I hope they never doubt my love or commitment to their well being.

Having bipolar disorder is interesting. Sometimes interesting good and sometimes interesting more harder. Very rarely do I get more than one day that my body and mind are not warring against each other. Once in a blue moon, like tonight, I imagine this is what it must feel like to be normal.

No busy head, no mood swings, my body is just at peace. My mind isn’t noisy. No I don’t hear voices but my mind is just noisy a lot. It’s hard to explain.

A big fat tear just ran down my cheek because I wish that I could feel this normal everyday. And the tear was because it just isn’t so. And then I reminded that this life here on earth is temporary. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that when I die I’ll go to Heaven. I also am comforted here on earth because I know that the troubles in this life are only temporary.

I’m just on the first part of eternity. This stint here on earth. And someday God will wipe the tears from my eyes and my body will be healed. What joy that will be.

Until then I get to trust Him for my everything. For my children, for my job, health, family and future. But I will sleep well tonight knowing that the God who hung each star in the sky not only knows me but knows me intimately. He knows how many hairs are on my head this very instant.

The silence is deafening and it’s a beautiful thing. Work, email, texts, phone calls, family, friends, kids, church, dog, home. These things are all wonderful but I cherish the time that I get to just be silent.

When there are no work calls to take, no one wanting my attention. It’s my time to recooperate and recharge for the next season of life.

Unless you are one you have no idea the unique challenges one faces as a single mom. The drive that gets you out of bed in the morning. The willingness to do whatever it takes to provide for my family. Working odd jobs on the side, some that you like and some you don’t, so that you can pay your bills and maybe have enough money to take the kids out once in a while.

But I do it willingly. You see, when I get to have silence for a day I am again reminded of just how thankful I am and how blessed I am to be their mom. It truly is my “calling”.

People say I’m an extrovert and that makes me smile because I don’t think of myself that way. I think that I am an introvert who has learned how to be more extroverted so she can feel connected to others. I do this not because I want to but because it is good for me to interact with others. To not be alone.

For me, silence is my way of recooperating from a week of pretending to be an extrovert. It’s my way of enjoying just being alone. I recharge when I am alone; I’ve always been like that. Extroverts would recharge by being around others. I am not like that. When I need to recharge my batteries I turn to silence.

For many reasons, silence = peace. In silence there are no hurtful words being slung around in real time or cyberspace. There is no bickering of siblings trying to live together. In silence it feels like protection. It’s safe.

But God did not create us to be alone. I am a mom, a daughter, sister, sister in law, niece, cousin, aunt, employee. So after being recharged by silence I enter the more uncomfortable extroverted world for another week of noise.

I do this because we were created to live in community. We were created to be family members, moms, aunts, cousins, daughters, sisters, sister in laws, and employees. And so much more.

The fuel is in the silence but the reward is from the relationships.

When I see parents post about taking technology and devices away from their kids, getting off Facebook, etc I just want to say DUH. Wow you are actually amazed your child read a book when you took their device away? What is amazing in this scenario is not that they read a book or painted a picture but that YOU were surprised.

I’m not anti technology, never have been but I am painfully aware of the consequences of it. Technology is amazing. The ideas and concepts being created now boggle the mind.

The problem with technology and the individual is this. We were created by God to have relationship with each other. Texting and Skyping is the technology equivalent to relationships that porn is. Both are a cheap substitute for the real thing.

When you spend more time with your computer for fun than your spouse or kids then a large bell should go off. If it doesn’t you have major problems which you don’t even know about yet.

I was married and my spouse would email me from upstairs instead of just coming down to talk with me. I remember us sitting in the same room, both on our laptops and he emailed me. And I was just five feet away in real life but in reality I was an eternity away. Because technology did not enhance relationship. It kept real communication from happening.

There were many, many times that I was jealous of my spouse’s relationship with his laptop and company. He courted his servers more than he ever courted me. While he cared for his clients, servers and computer programs diligently it was an escape for him. Hiding behind technology kept him from having to have real relationships with others. With me. With our kids.

I’m an adult and realize the problem was not me. But I worry that my children will grow up wishing their dad had put down the laptop and had just spent time with them a bit more. I hope that they realize that they are worthy of our time, of his time. All the time.

So I don’t have cable, watch tv other than Netflix, don’t have Internet access at home and no longer use a computer for personal use at my home. I wouldn’t trade the time I get to spend with my girls for any amount of Leave it to Beaver episodes.

And that is my choice. I choose relationships over technology. I choose the touch of a little girl’s hand over the cold touch of a keyboard.

Fluffy Dog Therapy

Posted: February 12, 2015 in Crazy Life of Mine
Tags: , ,

Dogs are good therapy.

I know that I usually write about things related to bipolar disorder and other heavy topics but tonight I just want to celebrate the good stuff.

My dog is by far the coolest dog I’ve ever had. He’s the third Golden Retriever I’ve owned but he’s a once in a lifetime dog.

If I’m sad he comes and lays by me. Sometimes in the middle of the night he just gets up and plops his head down on me to snuggle.

At almost any given time of the day I can reach out my arm or leg and he is within reach. This dog has taught me how to love again and quit laughing at me. It’s true.

I’m thankful that my fluffy dog is curled up with his head touching my arm as I pen this.

Not everything in my world is heavy. Some things are quite wonderful indeed and he is one of them.

Yesterday I stood looking out the window of a hospital room where I was visiting someone. Just down the hill is the psych hospital where I was many, many times over the years.

I was doing fairly well with it until I went to the restroom and the smell of the soap was exactly the same kind in the psych hospital. It was bizarre. With a simple inhale I was transported to a psych hospital, to my room there.

Even being in this part of town gives me the creeps. Too many memories. Some of my darkest times were spent inside the walls of that hospital. Hanging onto life, barely.

As I looked down that hill at the hospital I realized that is my past but it does not have to be my future.

One email derailed my day. I’m mad that it did but it did and now I lay here trying to unpack my emotions like a suitcase full of wrinkled dirty clothes.

We’ve all heard the phrase “we don’t negotiate with terrorists.” This post is not about the worldwide terrorism, it is about emotional terrorists.

Emotional terrorists are small people. Power hungry people who devise pleasure from hurting others. Sometimes it is those they live or used to love. I know. I was married to one.

People who control others are weak and pitiful. But they still inflict great chaos and hurt to those in their path. The sick part is that is WHY they do it. They utilize your vulnerabilities to their advantage.

After reading an email from my ex this morning I was transported back to feelings that I do not care to relive. Every time I write an email requesting what is normal and expected in a situation it is either: 1. Not answered 2. Answered but like a day later even though I know this person constantly checks his email 3. Met with opposition-always and without exception.

Unless you’ve lived through one of these type of abusive relationships you can’t imagine the PTSD like response your body goes into after such an interaction. It’s like fight or flight. Adrenal pumps. Emotions erupt and threaten any peace you currently had that day.

I remember feeling like this every single day. My mind never got a chance to recover day to day and it felt like every day was fight or flight. I’m not talking physical abuse here but emotional abuse. These physiological responses threatened my health physically and mentally.

I used to feel like this every single day. It might not be the best choice of grammar but it sucked. Big time.

The human part of me wants to retaliate with shock and awe. To what end? Not willing to put my children in the middle of two warring parents (even if we’re no longer married). The rational side of me knows engaging the enemy in this case is what they want so I will not issue shock and awe upon their heads but I’ll be honest, I really want to. But that is the hurt talking.

I don’t get to be the judge but there is some comfort in the fact that God will someday. Even saying that makes me feel small. Truth be told I’ll only recover from my anger and hurt when I hand it over to God. And I’ve been miserable all day because instead of handing over my hurt I’ve nursed it.

Opening up my tight little fists slowly….