The 34th Day of Lent

A rainy, cold day. Stinks if you're at the fireworks show (Thunder) kicking off the Derby Festival. But, since I've spent the day running errands and hanging with Will, the weather didn't have much play in my day.

The rain held off long enough for me to walk a couple of times with Grace. My ankle is feeling stronger each day, and, with the brace on securely, I'm starting to increase my walking, which is already helping with my mental state.

Having Will around has helped me cut back on obsessive thoughts, and eating has been a breeze. I think things are getting back to normal for me, slowly but surely. . . thanks to getting back to basics.

Dear Renfrew Crew,

Thank you for teaching me some really stupid little quotes that have changed my life, such as:

• Put your feet on the floor.
• Do the next right thing.
• Your worth can't be measured in weight.
• Balance is everything.
• Get out of your head.

You also told me not to depend too much on the f word when describing my feelings or mood. The f word being Fine. Fine is never honest.

You held the space for me to put everything else on hold and concentrate only on recovery. You took my cell phone, monitored mail, set my bedtime and wakeup time. You counted how many times I walked up the steps each day. Gave me bonus points whenever I asked for support. You counted my calories for me and kept the numbers on the scale a big secret. You held on to my razor and checked my body each day for cuts.

You completely eliminated any chance of me making an unhealthy choice, and allowed my body and brain to become well-fed and unmedicated.

This week I've gone back to the quotes often and refused to let myself say I'm fine. I'm glad I spent those 40 days with you. Sometimes, I'm far enough from those days that I start to wonder if I was ever really sick enough to have even been admitted.

This week, I know that I was and that the foundation you helped me to build has proven strong even when my fortitude is not. I not only survived this week, but I thrived. I chose to live well in the midst of anxiety and stress. I chose to keep my feet on the floor and move forward.

Life is good. Thanks for helping me to discover that.

Angela

The 33rd Day of Lent

As you can probably notice this is not a letter. I've got too much going on in my brain to write a letter with a prescribed form, coherent and orderly paragraphs, salutations and closings. (Can you tell I teach elementary school?) This entry is a rambling of sort.

The last few weeks (maybe months) have been different, with twists and turns that I did not have on my list of things to do.

In January, I was held captive as a juror for two weeks, only to have the one trial I sat on declared a mistrial. I also went to the gynecologist and had a mammogram, where I was weighed outside of a support member for the first time in several years. I also had to have a follow-up ultrasound and diagnostic mammogram, which, thankfully, was for naught.

The rest of January and February was full of freezing, dark days, where I ended up with a cold and cough that lasted for years, well, maybe not years. Anyway, I finally took some Nyquil to get some relief, but it felt too familiar and I didn't take anymore.

I also somehow managed to turn my ankle, resulting in a torn tendon. I limped around for a few weeks, then finally started the doctor journey on the first day of March.

March found me going back and forth to drs. and an MRI, along with a brace and a boot. Long story short, it still hurts, but recovery is in sight. But, because of this, I have been on a limited walking schedule for the better part of two months. For those of you who read this blog or know my crazy habits, you realize how big this actually is..

In between all of this, my ex-husband (I won't even say his name) has continued to cause Carly hurt, which has resulted in her withdrawing from him not just physically but financially. For all intents and purposes, he will no longer be paying her tuition or rent. He really doesn't have a clue as to what he is losing. He has a daughter that most fathers only dream of and he is choosing to be "right" and "in-control" rather than having his greatest blessing as a part of his life.

At night, my ex has also continued to make his way into my dreams. Dreams where I feel trapped into going back to him, where there are no doors for me to exit. I guess nightmares is a better word than dreams. In the last month or so, I've found myself having difficulty breathing while I brush my teeth and chewing food has become a little bothersome . . . both of these are old feelings from when I was still married.

Erika (my e.d. bff) thinks its time to work on the marriage shit. I really thought that divorce was enough, but apparently 25 + years of living with a narcissist can have long lasting effects. . . who would have thought. So in my never ending search for balance, I've started working with another therapist, Judith, (at Erika's suggestion) who works with women who have endured emotional, mental or physical trauma. I'm not ready to wear the victim label quite yet, but I'm starting to concede that I might have a bit of emotional "baggage."

With all of this, I stepped on the scale (with support) to see that I had lost nine pounds in the last 6 weeks. I'm still within the technical range, but just barely and technically. Time for the big guns.I knew right where they were.

So, with all of that, I lied. Here's a letter:

Dear Angela,

I just wanted to tell you how you were quite the bad ass this week and I'm proud of you. You walked into school knowing your weight was down, after having been up with bad dreams for most of the night, all but emptying your desk in search of anything sharp.

 You stopped. Sent an email to Erika (and Judith.) Then you sent another email to Pam, Bonnie and Phyllis asking them to hold you accountable for your actions and you got up from your desk and got busy teaching.

Twice this week, you wanted to go home early and go to bed, but instead of calling for a sub, you chose to talk with Mary, who told you in no uncertain terms that there was no way in hell you were going home. So you stayed and things got better.

You told Cathy that you needed to eat with her on a night that you found it difficult to choose to eat on your own. You all talked about your day and your kids and your books, and you ate everything on your plate.

 You gave into adding an Ensure to your diet, while working on the Jeff stuff, at Erika's request.

You met with Erika for therapy just five days after meeting with Judith, and you are on the books for Judith on Wednesday.

You kept up with your gratitude journal and you faithfully took the prozac that Dr. Stevens doubled a few weeks ago.

You've rejected the idea of meds that might help you sleep, even though the voice in your head seems to suggest it every night.

You're in control, Sister. A good, healthy control. You are choosing recovery and life and yourself, with every single breath.

I, for one, could not be more proud of you. I could not be more thankful for your journey.

Angela

The 30th Day of Lent

Dear Pam,

Today when I realized that I needed someone to hold me accountable I knew you were my go-to, and your response was just what I needed. Knowing that you realize how difficult it is for me to ask for support and expressing how proud you were of me made it much easier for me to do the right thing all day long.

You've been there for me through it all. You're willing to bash Jeff when I'm not up to the task. You'll put me to sleep by working a crossword puzzle. You'll even take the long walk to my left-wing thinking all the way from your right-wing thinking to make sure I'm still sane enough to get by, but crazy enough to still be fun. You even give me the peanuts out of your chex mix and realize how important a diet coke can be at just the right time.

On most things, we're probably polar opposites, and I even wonder why we're such good friends, so I can only imagine what others think. But on the important stuff like loyalty, being authentic, loving kids and enjoying our white-trash lifestyle, we're united through and through.

Thank you for listening to me rant and rave; thank you for encouraging me in my search for sanity. Thank you for letting me talk for 15 minutes to kindergarteners and 5th graders about how deep big balls need to be planted and not completely falling apart.

Thanks for being one of the few that realizes my heart is probably softer than I pretend it is.

You'll be my first phone call if I should ever need a kidney or be bailed out of jail because you would act first and maybe never ask for an explanation. Thanks for being my friend, for having my back, for loving me just the way I am.

Angela

Goodbye, Spring Break!

Tonight's the end of my official Spring Break. It was fairly uneventful, but full and satisfying. I spent last weekend in Murray with Cathy watching two of her grandchildren. It made me decide that I'm definitely going to be the best and coolest grandma ever, just not right now.

My dad came down and worked in my bathrooms, changed the furnace filters, mowed my grass, all of the things that he does to let me know he cares for me. I used to think he did those kinds of things because he didn't think I was capable; I know now that isn't true.

I saw a movie with Cathy (The Lincoln Lawyer) and ate at Ditto's. I took my car registration to the court house and didn't have to pay any fee. Hooray! I'm sure I walked too much. (I may the first person to actually wear out a "boot.")  I wrote quite a bit in my journal, read even more than I wrote, took several naps, spent this weekend with Carly and rode to the mountains for a family wedding shower with Mom and Carly. The redbud trees were breathtaking.

This afternoon, I've done some laundry, sat and read on my deck ( and enjoyed the pansies Carly and I planted this weekend). Now I'm thinking about a new day tomorrow and how I can make the last few weeks of school better than ever. The kids and I deserve to go out big.

Oh, and Carly taught me how to brush Grace without her having a major meltdown.

I talked with Will and Sam today. All three kids love me and know that I love them right back.

A trip to Florida could not have been any better.

The 24th Day of Lent

Dear Kay Jacobs,

I haven't talked with you in awhile, but I think of you often and ALWAYS remember your birthday!

When I think about my life as a young adult, your friendship is the cornerstone. I was gravitated towards you in our undergraduate education class at the University of Louisville simply because you were older than everyone else, and I figured you would be the one that would have her act together. I was right.

At the young age of 33, you had already seen more of the dark side of life than I would probably ever see. You had lost your mother as a child. Your grandmother raised you. At 16, you were married, pregnant and a high school dropout. When I met you, you already had two teenage daughters and had been working as a kindergarten aide for the last several years.

You and I waded our way through college, graduating on time with a magna cum laude to boot. My graduation was fairly unremarkable; it was expected of me. You were what we celebrated.

Watching you struggle with a family and bills and school, seeing you refuse to fail, claiming your difficult history with pride rather than shame still causes me pause and makes me realize that if you can raise yourself up then so can I.

You used to say, "One day at a time, just one day at a time." That could very well have been the very best lesson I learned in college.

Thank you.
Love, Angela

Is It Still Lent?

I'm really not even sure what month or day it is, but I'm pretty sure that it's still lent and I'm way behind on my letters. I think I'm ahead on life though so I guess that's the main idea anyway.

My ankle is starting to feel stronger, I think. I've slept some better the last couple of nights. The Cincinnati Reds won their opening day game for Will. The Final Four tickets that Will sold to Cathy's daughter, Kristin, actually arrived in time. . . and today the sun was shining in Murray, where I'm spending the weekend with Cathy to sort of help out with her grandkids, Ben and Cate.

After the last 24 hours, I'm beginning to realize why God did not create 48 year old women to be mothers of young children. I'm exhausted, but in a sort of good way.

As I was swinging Ben at the park this morning, I was reminded how lucky I am to spend most of my days with children. . . so here's a generic, but very heartfelt letter.

To All of the Kids that have been part of my life:

Thanks to all of you for the hugs and pats. Thanks for the letters that you write telling me I'm pretty and smart and cool. Thank you for letting me share in your excitement on the first warm day of Spring as we go to recess with a brand new kickball.

Thank you for teaching me that a simple, "Will you be my friend?" can be the start of a beautiful thing.
Thanks for all of the questions and the big dreams. Thank you for being outraged at injustice and building stick houses for caterpillars.

Thanks for the Valentine's and 2-inch high school pictures. Thanks for thinking that eating lunch with me is a reward and not a consequence.

Thanks for caring about the illness and death of a class hamster and for really believing that you can save the earth.

Thanks for trusting me enough to share your secrets and pain. Thank you for spending your time and energy with me, for being so free with your love. You have saved me in so many ways.

Thank you.