beaten down

I have eluded to some heavy things I've been carrying, but I haven't wanted to write about them specifically because I really do want to do my best to stay focused on the positives in my life, stay optimistic. But yesterday was just too much for me and I have to get this out there before it eats away at me.

Brad has informed me that he won't be paying me alimony anymore. He says he'll try and get me paid back eventually, but I don't know that that will ever happen. He has moved on and has a new girlfriend-the girl he swore he didn't leave me for-- that needs taking care of now. He has "stuff" he wants to do. I was the person he got down on one knee for 16 years ago, telling me he wanted to spend his whole life and eternity with me, then taking me in an embrace and promising to take care of me forever and ever....which translated to 13 years till he just wasn't that into me anymore. And I promise that's as bitter as you will ever hear me speak of Brad, whom I still care for very, very deeply and want the best for. I am just extremely hurt and confused.

Anyway--with my finances the way they are, I had two more years of money to live off of as of this month. That was going to give me enough time to finish my schooling, do 6 months of interning, and find a job. That would have also gotten my little J old enough to start school so I wouldn't have to be finding daycare for him. Now, with no alimony, that time is cut in half. And to add salt to the wound--my insurance, which I pay through the nose for--has left me with $3800 in uncovered medical bills. Despite repeated appeals and hours on the phones with agents and doctors, they won't budge. So, there goes my Fall tuition money.

In an attempt to thwart that, I applied for Federal Financial Aid. They offered me $3500 in pell grants, which I accepted....and then they changed their mind. I have been jumping through one hoop after another for them for months, tracking down all kinds of documents and writing statements describing my "unique situation" as to why I had money but didn't really have money again and again, trying to get them to give me the grants back. I did pay them $22,000 frigging dollars in taxes this year, after all! But no word yet.

Then I had to call the realtor and find out what it would take to get my house on the market, which of course has absolutely no equity in it anymore and which I might not even break even in to sell.

Then those little worries that are forever being pushed to the outskirts of my brain came trampling in again.... My van is pushing 100,000 miles. My house is old enough that a number of things could break on it any day now. My kids all want things that normal kids want, and they ask for relatively so little that it kills me when I have to tell them no because we've just had to cut our budget by 1/3.

To top that whole "wonderful day" off, I sat down after I got the boys in bed to finish revising the story I'm working on for my writers group, and as I read through the piece, it hit me: I just don't have it in me to write anything really great. I'm talented, but not talented enough to make any kind of a living off writing.

And there it was.

That was the last of my fiery dreams to get dropped in the bucket of water that is reality. My happy marriage is gone. My ability to homeschool is gone. Lurking in the not too distant future is the giving up of being a stay at home mom. Then my home. And finally my hope of using writing as a tool to provide for my family.

And you know what? Surprising-- even to me-- is that I really am ok with all of it. When I think about what I truly want in life, I could achieve it living in a dirt hut without a cent to my name. It doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt terribly to see all I had desired--good, righteous things--slip away despite my very best effort in every arena to keep them.

I feel about as humbly beat down as I can be. And I don't know what to do. I don't know what earthly person to counsel with--all those who gave me the best advice are dead or can't be bothered with another person's problems right now. No one is coming to save me.

I'm going to figure this out though, some how. I can feel that fire in me--somewhere way down deep. It refuses to go out fully. I am beaten down, yes. Disappointed, severely. But not defeated. Never defeated. So, right now I'm in that moment to moment living again, with even a day feeling like too much to be bitten off. But as soon as I can regroup and figure out where to go next, I'll do it--cheerfully, and with courage and hope and laughter. I don't know how to be any other way. And I don't even want to think about the alternative.

a trampoline tale

We got our trampoline when I was 8. For Easter. A holiday that usually meant hairbrushes and new underwear for gifts--but Mom somehow scraped up the money and outdid herself that year.

I know that everyone seems to have a trampline now--a big caged in, covered in pads, so safe it's hardly fun trampoline--but when we got ours, it was still 1983, and trampolines were a total jump-so-hard-your-feet-would-touch-the-ground novelty. So much so that kids we didn't know (who probably spotted it in our backyard while swimming in the canal) started to wait for us to leave, then would climb over our back fence and play on it. At least that's the conclusion we drew from the unfamiliar abandonded socks we'd find, and that one cigarette burn.

Even when we would invite friends over to play on the much coveted trampoline, kids started to get their fingers pinched in the springs. And various body parts bent under them when they'd land. And, of course, fall off. Though we weren't quite the "prosecution nation" we are now back then, Mom got wise. She typed up (on a thing called a ty-per-writer) and had copied a batch of JUMP AT YOUR OWN RISK disclaimer forms for kids to sign where they promised to only play with our permission, remove their shoes, and take care of all their broken bones themselves.

Now that our legal bases were covered, the fun really began! Just jumping got boring after about 6 months, and we had to up our thrill level. We invented or were taught all kinds of games: bum wars, add on, poisonous shoes, crack the egg. We learned how to do front flips. Then back ones. We'd jump with the sprinkler running beneath it, which seemed to make it extra bouncy. We'd have sleepovers on it. Our crowning achievement, I think, was discovering that if we pulled the trampoline over to the edge of the house, then had a friend give us a double bounce, we could just grab the edge of the roof and pull ourselves up....then jump back down. It was like having our own personal high dive into a sea of elastic! Jumping on that trampoline seemed to be the one time of the day my brother and I wouldn't fight. We'd just run out there as soon as we got home from school and play. Together. Happily.

As I transitioned into teenagerhood, the trampoline started to lose some of its shiny newness. Other friends got them. Ours now had sewn on repair patches here and there. No one seemed to know any new games and even jumping off the roof didn't seem quite as exciting anymore. It was still good for laying out on to work on my tan though.

I graduated. My mom moved from our neighborhood out to a house on a hill in the country. I went to college. I got married. We had our first baby.

Then...my mom and her husband decided to captain their boat around North America and needed someone to live in their house for six months. Brad and I took her up on the offer. The day after we got moved in, I was playing with baby Z down in the walk out basement, and there--just outside the sliding glass doors--was the old trampoline. Like a proud soldier that had seen a thousand battles, it stood. Dullish gray metal frame holding up that black mat with it's worn spring arms. And all those happy childhood memories came washing over me again. I picked up Baby Z and quickly headed out to it. He had been crawling for just a few weeks and cautiously set out to explore the strange new surface I had placed him on. He loved it! Then I climbed on with him, picked him up, and began to bounce. That's when I learned that, um, just having babies and jumping on trampolines don't really mix.... But, oh, again! The memories!

We have a trampoline at our house now. A unique, inground, two-person sized one that I imagine the original 1988 owners had installed. It was part of the reason I fell in love with this house. You can bet it makes my heart smile to see this.....

and this....

and this....

and this....

And guess what? You'll often find me out there jumping from time to time, too because even my bladder can take a little trampoline fun again! :)

that which doesn't kill me can only make me stronger...and other stuff that's not as neat as it sounds

First of all, let me start by saying that I do, actually, believe that we are made stronger by our trials. I have even learned to have gratitude for mine--and not just the ones I've gone through and made it out of, but the ones I'm in right now. I can't say though that I've ever been comfortable or (heaven forbid!) ENJOYED being tested.

Some trials have made me stronger--even completely changed me for the better.

For example, after having Rheumatic Fever--I will never complain about being sick or sore or injured again. Well, I am human, so let's change that to "hardly ever" complain :). Compared to that trial, nothing I've experienced since has felt as bad. I now know what my body is capable of enduring.

Losing so many members of my family and even a few close friends to death has made me stronger by teaching me to live every day to its fullest. To deeply love those around me and never let those feelings go unsaid.

But this divorce and all that has occurred after it--well, I can't say that it's made me stronger. I think a better description for it would be increasingly more emotionally numb. It doesn't mean that I don't feel--I do--deeply, in fact. But only to an extent. There is something in my mind, a switch to shut down the emotions, that I am learning to activate more quickly and more frequently. People like me--those that live in blissful innocence with bucket loads full of dreams; those who would never hurt anyone intentionally and don't understand why others act so selfishly and cruelly--well, we just can't have our hearts pressed down upon again and again and again without breaking. So, at least in my case--I somehow found that "off" switch. And when I need to--- I use it. Is that a good thing? I don't know.

Last week I went to dinner with a friend of mine. He's actually someone who grew up with my ex-husband and who knew us as a married couple as well. We went to a fondue restaurant. The same one Brad and I used to go to for each of our anniversaries. I hadn't been back there for two and a half years--but I was happy to go again. The food is amazing. I told him about the letter in a bottle "program" the restaurant had. How each year Brad and I would write a letter to each other and they would seal it up in a bottle for us to read when we came in the next year. It was always a tradition I looked forward to. I obviously never got the ones we wrote in 2008 meant to be read in 2009.

"Do you think they still have the bottle?" my friend asked, "you should see if they do."

And they did.

Compared to the level of emotion in my letter to Brad, his to me sounded strained and distant. But still, reading his words. Seeing that familiar handwriting spelling out "I love you". For a moment it felt like I'd swallowed a stomach of salt water. I thought for sure the tears were coming. Then, click. On came the emotional shut off switch and I felt....nothing. I folded the letters up and put them in my purse.

Being divorced means existing in SURVIVAL MODE--financially, physically, and yes--even emotionally. What I've had to learn from this trial, this quick shut down mode, is beneficial to me for now. It's necessary. But I hope one day to be able to stop clicking off, stop protecting myself....and just feel. Really, really feel again. Feel restored. Trust.

Yeah. That sounds pretty nice :)

i'm a little naughty....and that's ok

So, here I am, neglecting the poor blog again. I'm justifying it with the whole quality vs. quantity thing.

My boys left Thursday morning for their week of summer visitation with Brad and didn't get home until Tuesday night. That's the longest I've ever been away from them. It wasn't exactly an Eat, Pray, Love sort of year to myself, but it was five days where I was given some other options for my time besides the eternal round of cooking, cleaning, entertaining, and refereeing. (Not that I mind that stuff--it's the stuff of motherhood, which I love--but I didn't really have a choice here except to make the best of it).

Anyway, I used that time to stay very, very busy. I was even a little naughty. But, boy, it felt good! I was so naughty I:

*Did a two mile hike with a group of my friends...with my foot still broken...and was the second one to the top :). I'm not sure it was the wisest thing to do, but it reminded me that I can keep going through pain and the view is pretty spectacular when I get where I'm going!

*I ate. And ate. And ate. Zucchini and potatoes and cobblers cooked in dutch ovens. Ice cream pie made by my friend on her birthday. A buffalo burger and sweet potato fries. Jerk chicken. Corn on the cob. The first strawberry from my garden. Cold Stone. And guess what? I was still soooo busy running here and there--I lost three pounds in five days. That, my friends, I must admit was awesome (and probably short-lived :) ).

*I played hooky. There were things, boring and responsible things, I needed to get done--paying bills, making calls, bleaching bathtubs, putting away clothes--that I just let go. Doesn't mean I didn't work, I just chose to do it in service to others instead of doing the same ol' same ol' around here.

*I watched mindless television. Not a lot. But two more episodes of Design Start on Hulu. It was a great de-stressor and so I'm counting it as time well spent. (Also went and saw Incepetion and totally give it two thumbs up! I don't recommend movies all that often either).

*I took a two hour nap. It was after the hike, which was followed by helping a friend move in 95 degree heat. I went home, lied down under the cool whir of the ceiling fan, and crashed. A door to door salesman woke me up. That was, um, fun.

*I spent a whole afternoon just writing. I know that's kind of like my job--but it didn't feel like it that day. My ability to write fiction is growing. My plots are becoming more complex. My ability to project voice is sharpening. Now I just have to wait for the one genius inspiration idea. I plan on being prepared when the opportunity comes :)

-----When you're married, the love and relationship you have with your husband is like a great emotional well that the whole family can drink from. And--if you're doing it right--it's one that gets filled up on a regular basis.

As a single woman, I don't have that same constant rejuvenation. My well runs dry pretty quickly when there are 4 thirsty boys drawing from it--and sometimes just taking it to have water fights with each other. I actually need that little bit of time I have on my own to go seeking after those situations and people and quiet moments that help me replenish. I would never, ever, ever in a million years recommend getting divorced so you can have some alone time--BUT, if you can, I hope you find a bit of time here and there to be a little 'naughty' too. Just remember: It's only fun if it's the occasional thing, not an every day occurrence--then it's just gluttony.

You weren't expecting me to have done ACTUAL naughty things were you? Shame on you! :)

friday fotos: i love my house

Tonight I got to teach a mini-class on budget decorating and remodeling in my home. It was so much fun to remember and share everything I did to this house. It was an intense two months of remodeling four years ago, then just tweaking and refining since as funds, time, and energy have allowed.

I love my front yard..... The Lavender in bloom. The Russian Sage reaching clear to the windows. The weeping Cedar tree growing bigger every year....

The path into my backyard where the Daisies grow 4 feet tall.

And the backyard "kid zone" where there's always room for friends and family and a game of catch the football. Vegetables in the garden. Cherries in the tree. Herbs in the pots.

*sigh*

I am trying to come to grips with the fact that I probably won't get to keep this house much longer. It was supposed to be my "carry me out feet first, I'm dead" house. The one my kids made memories in and brought their kids back to. Maybe a tree house in the Willow tree as soon as it's big enough. Maybe a wedding reception in the backyard. A story behind every ding and nick. Home.

But it's a sad fact that, in all likeliness, I will not be able to afford the payments on the salary I'll have post-graduation. There may even be graduate school in my future which means packing up and going to wherever will fund me. Probably living with myself and 4 kids in an apartment.

I know a house is just a shell. The people inside and the love we have for one another is what really makes "home". Still, yeah, ugh. It will be so hard to leave this place and all it represents. It's mere presence and consistency was such a blessing to my children and I after the divorce. With so much change and turmoil....it was the place that stayed the same.

I want to always remember what it looks like to walk in the front door....

Dishes drying on the counter from the batch of cookies we just made. Bills being paid at the table where I can keep an eye on everyone. The sound of laughter (or sometimes fighting!) that always fills my ears as I step inside.

I know I should save my miracle praying for big things--life or death things---but if there's no limit on 'please send me a miracle', then I pray for a way to stay here. Amen.

Hope that wasn't too deep for Friday Fotos! I wish you all the best and ~Happy Weekending!~

things we carry alone

I have a friend who's gone to jail recently. He's not a bad man--in fact, if you met him, you'd never think he'd be where he is. He's funny, gentle, soft spoken, and pretty easy on the eyes to boot. He was just given a rather rough deal in life from birth and--though I believe we're all still responsible for ourselves and can't blame our actions on any one or any thing--this friend just made some poor choices. Choices we could all potentially make. No drugs or alcohol or violence--just bad choices with money. In fact, I firmly believe that all of us are only a few bad choices or honest misunderstandings from being in jail. Think about it.

Anyway, I've never been to jail before. Especially not in the incarcerated myself way--but also never in the "just visiting" way. I thought I could just go in and see my friend. Bring him a measure of comfort and humor. See how he's doing. But apparently you can't just walk into the jail and visit. There's a process you have to go through of registering and then conforming to certain hours on certain days. Inmates can also only have one visit a week and you never know if they've been visited or not, so you have to just take your chances and go in.

I've thought of my friend a lot over this last week that he's been there. He went in for sentencing, thinking that he had a good chance of being let off with only probation. But instead--he was whisked off without warning to serve a month before his formal sentencing. He didn't have time to really say good bye to anyone or make any real preparations. He was just suddenly very, very alone in a very, very scary and unfamiliar place.

I think about the weight of carrying such a thing completely alone. No hand to hold. No comforting voice. No friends.

Alone.

Now, those of us who have a firm belief in Jesus Christ know we're never really alone. In fact, we know that He who descended below all things can show us the way back up. But still--how many of even you faithful ones have ever gone through a situation where you needed more than just an eternal assurance that things would be "ok" in a way you might not understand and in a time that could be very far away? How many of you have ever just wanted a pair of real, stable arms to wrap around you? Wanted someone who had some real answers, and a means to help you, to give you those things? Tangible things? I'm guessing there's a lot of yes-ing. I hope there are. I don't want to be the only one nodding here....

There's not a lot I can do to help my friend in jail right now. I will keep trying to go visit him. I will pray for him. But--in a real, physical sense--I can't ease that loneliness. I can't get to him.

But I can get to others.

And I plan to.

I feel like there are a lot of things I am carrying alone right now. And I have prayed for answers and help and deliverance and a myriad of other things that seem good and worthy. Right now, I'm told just to wait and be patient. And it's a hard feeling. Sickeningly frantic at times. But I know I can lessen that feeling and help ease the stress of waiting by reaching out to others. Even to those whom I perceive to be in a better situation than I am might need help that only I can give.

So I'm off to see who I can serve today and every day, and hopefully to find myself...by losing myself.

Hope you consider doing the same. :)

friday fotos: summer fun

Since I've skipped Friday Fotos these last few weeks AND basically ignored my poor blog since last Thursday (I've turned into a crazy obsessed person since I discovered all the back seasons of Design Star on Hulu....), I thought I'd finally get on the ball today and show you what we've been up to this summery season....

Our little cache of fireworks...

I haven't been able to get J even close to fireworks for 4 years now. This year, Ninja got him to hold a sparkler. But only if he had his Captain Rex helmet on :)
We spent the 4th with our great neighbors....

L has begged me for a month to have a lemonade stand. He's been really into money and making money. I guess I'm all for encouraging doing that in a legal, entrepreneurial way! So, I made cookies and lemonade, set them on the sidewalk, and told them to look cute and needy :). They made $17---most gleaned from the construction workers who drove by and bought every one of our cookies.

A $14 pool has provided hours and hours of entertainment for these two. I asked if I could put on my swimsuit and come join them and was told, "No Mom. You're too fat". Aaaah...the honesty of children :) !

A good friend took us to a small town ice cream shop where we attempted to eat a FOUR FOOT LONG BANANA SPLIT! There were 14 scoops of ice cream the size of softballs, plus all the trimmings. We, of course, failed miserably. But oh--what a wonderful thing to now say I've attempted to eat a TROUGH of ice cream!!! Also...I blame the whole ice cream thing on being deemed too fat to get in the blow up pool :)

The kids also got to ride horses. They all did great! Probably the only "outdoorsy" thing I've passed on to them through my genes!

Hope you're all having as much fun with your summer as the boy squad and I are! All the best to you and ~HAPPY WEEKENDING!~

god speaking to me through yahtzee games and a fortune cookie

Don't let the funny title fool you... I was NOT feeling funny today. I felt as if I were dragging the weight of the world around on my shoulders. I don't know why except that it's a frequent, unwelcome feeling that finds regular opportunities to press down on me. Maybe my divorce caused it, though I think it's always been there in some form or another--that necessary sour to make the sweet all the more blessed--but I am certain that it has been intensified over the last two years of being single.

So much responsibility. So much worry. So much fear. So much to do without that one person who is supposed to appreciate it...and help carry it when it gets too heavy.

A sequence of rough days (dragging myself around with a broken foot is not easy and highly frustrating), followed by a series of unpleasant events today led me to this scary place. Some threatening voice was pounding through my head, gaining strength and volume, repeating: "HOW DARE YOU THINK YOU COULD EVER HAVE, BE, OR ATTEMPT SOMETHING GREAT? YOU WERE NOT DESIGNED FOR ANYTHING IN THIS LIFE BUT PAIN AND MEDIOCRITY. GET USED TO IT. YOU CAN NEVER RISE ABOVE IT. YOU WERE MEANT TO BE BROKEN AND STAY BROKEN. NOT HUMBLE--BROKEN."

And scariest of all--I was starting to believe it.....and it wasn't the first time.

My whole life I have prayed only to have safety, security, love, family, peace, my own little slice of heavenly innocence. Those seemed like righteous enough desires. Instead, I have experienced far too much loss, fear, betrayal, loneliness, breaking apart and away. Not always, mind you, I have had a LOT of good years in there--including the 13 years of marriage when I thought I had finally found that safe, happy place. Right now though, there seems to be more bad stuff than good. I'm trying so hard to hang on. So hard to keep counting all my little blessings. And especially not to let what has happened in my past taint what still could be in my future. Some days I do better than others at this. But I never give up.

And God helps me. Like He did today.

Trying to get that nasty voice out of my head, I turned to my mothering--which always gives me a chance to lose myself. I took the boys to look at the pet store, pick out fireworks, and get an ice cream. When we got home, the older boys and I sat down to play a game of Yahtzee. Our first game seemed to match my mood--all bad rolls. But then the second game....something pretty cool happened. About his third turn, E rolled a Yahtzee. Then it was my turn, and I rolled a Yahtzee. Then, Z rolled one. THREE Yahtzees in a row! The dice were passed around again and...ALL THREE OF US ROLLED YAHTZEES AGAIN! I actually inspected the dice thinking they'd been rigged somehow! Seriously, have you ever heard of a game filled with so much luck?!

My heart caught hold of the moment and smiled. I remembered my mom sending me off to college. She gave me a pair of teeny, tiny celluloid dice that her mother had given her. She passed on the same advice she'd been given: "Baby girl, life is kind of like a game. Some times you're going to get good rolls, some times you're going to get bad ones. But you keep rolling, ok?"

It's true. So true. How I miss the blessing of continuing to receive her wisdom, but I'm glad I hung onto that piece. I know sooner or later, if I just keep rolling, I'm going to get that Yahtzee. And maybe even two Yahtzees. Yahtzees for everyone I love!

And as though He were just adding some sprinkles to the already iced cake, God had one more message for me. Found in the fortune cookie I discovered in the pantry: "Keep taking risks. You'll never be sorry you did."