Get Over Yourself

I am so sad right now. And mad. And soul-sick. Wait.  Let's go back to mad.  Yeah.  I'm mad.

This semester at Harding, I'm taking a wonderful class about family dynamics in our world. There are some aspects of it that make me glad to be a wife and mom. Some, however, just make me ill. One thing that has stuck in my mind for the past few weeks is how we treat the elderly here in America. It's pathetic. In almost every other country, developed and underdeveloped, the elderly are treasured and honored and cared for. In America, the elderly are, at most, just another person...and at the very least, a burden to be pawned off on some tired nurses in a "home" somewhere.

It used to be that when a person older than you walked into the room (older...not gray-headed necessarily or walking with a cane...older, period) you would stand and give up your chair for them. You'd open doors for them. You'd listen as long as they needed to talk. You'd give them preference and priority and respect!

But let's narrow it down. Let's talk about parents. It is shameful how parents are treated these days. I'm not talking about the years spent at home, growing up, learning your way. Those years could always use more respect, but it's not what makes me sick. I'm talking about after you move away and begin living "on your own". Little by little, your parents get shoved down on the priority list. Yes, you should call your parents often. Yes, you should make contact with them every holiday. Yes, you should do what you can to see to their needs. If they are "nasty" parents, meaning abusive to you and/or a danger to you, then seeking wise counsel about how to honor them is a good idea. But, honor them you must! We are COMMANDED to!

You do NOT get to speak disrespectfully to your parents. Being an adult does not make you a peer with your parents. You can hang out with them, visit with them, be so close with them...and still, they are your parents! If they fall on hard times, welcome them into your home indefinitely. Hard? Who cares. They wiped your bottom. They put up with your mouth. They forgave and forgave and forgave you. How long will they be on this earth? How can you best honor them?

There are three questions you MUST ask yourself every morning:
1. How can I best glorify God today?
2. How can I best meet my family's needs today?
3. How can I best honor my parents today?

Did you notice what you DON'T ask? How do I serve myself today? How can I get the most out of this day for myself? How can I make myself feel good? Myself? Myself? Myself?

Whatever happened to that long-ignored virtue self-sacrifice? Thinking of others? Humbling yourself? Giving respect to that person who raised you?

Yes, I'm angry. I've seen too much of it and I've literally spoken with parent after parent who will cry and blame themselves when their grown child is rude to them; takes advantage of them; feels entitled; and disrespects them. With the exception, as mentioned earlier, of those misguided parents who choose an abusive relationship with their children, parents are a gift. Treat them as such!

Many of you treat your boss better than your parent.  Many of you treat your dog better than your parent.  I have talked back to my parents before.  I've been rude to them, disrespected them, ignored them, and failed them.  And I found it's never too late to rectify that.  So, you may indeed call me self-righteous and call on times when you know I was a smart-mouth.  I will not argue. I found it's never too late to get over myself.

(And let me be perfectly clear.  "Abusive parent" does NOT include a parent you disagree with, don't like, think is lazy, wish had different habits, share different beliefs than, doesn't reach out to you, doesn't call YOU every day, doesn't look after YOUR needs anymore, and who takes a lot of energy and effort to be around.  You're no picnic either.)

Now....I need to go call Mama.

The Mommy Syndrome

Once you have it, it's always with you. I am constantly noticing runny noses, untied shoes, sleepiness, unfocused daydreaming, the pee-pee dance, the overwhelming desire to scream, wet diapers, dirty faces, hugs-in-wanting, tears-about-to-overflow, outside-voices, and too-quiet-to-be-up-to-anything-good.

I am constantly aware of the lack of "yes, ma'am", the shoulder shrug, the mumble, the inside sunglasses, the refusal-of-eye-contact, the slumped posture, the pull-up-your-pants-please!, the eternal pout, and the I'd-rather-be-anywhere-but-here-stare.

My kids participate in all of these at some points. And I do something about it! C'mon, parents! Let's be active! I don't want my kid to be the adult that no one wants to play with....the kid who becomes the adult no one wants to be around... the kid who becomes unhappy with himself but doesn't know why.

Sure...let a kid be a kid. Play, joy, imagination, giggles, fun, games, mischief, jokes, silliness, discovery, faith, innocence, trials, and goodness are all mandatory for childhood. To some of our children, these things do not come naturally and must be nurtured and cultivated. It's our job to do that. I really don't see a problem here in most cases. We want our children to be happy. We'd do anything to get a smile out of them. We hurt when they hurt so we do anything to keep from breaking their hearts. We make excuses for them when there are pending consequences. We ignore certain behavior to avoid conflict. We allow their individuality to become selfishness in the name of open-minded parenting.

Stop it.

When your child gets in trouble, it is NOT our job to cover it up, make excuses, say everything's okay, or come to their defense. YES, we love our children! It is our job, BECAUSE we love them, to stay beside them every step of the way. We must support them and hug them AS they pay the price. This doesn't, as so many parents fear, convey to them that we think they're bad or we don't care. Just the opposite, in fact. It tells them that, no matter what, we are always here for them and love them. It says, "Yes. You messed up. I've messed up too. I understand and am right here as you struggle through this life-lesson." When they don't get their way or their plans don't go as they want, it is NOT our job to re-manipulate the situation so that our sweeties are happy again. It's our job to convey to them that life will do this to them over and over and their reaction to it is more important than the actual plan not coming to fruition.

Parenting is so much more than runny-noses and untied shoes. The future DEPENDS on our efforts in discipline and active involvement in what's BEST for our child (not what's comfortable at the time!).

Preachy preachy. Yes, I know. And those of you who know me know that this must be a lesson I need badly myself. :)

I preach what I myself need to hear. My daughter is going through a difficult time right now. She has auditioned for a play, didn't make it; tested for a program, just missed it; and is now wanting to try-out for the swim team and has only had minimal lessons (I know she won't make it).

When she didn't get into this certain program I was so devestated. It was hard to encourage her when I really wanted to go down and have a "talk" with the administrators. Why would they NOT accept her? She's bright, sweet, selfless, determined, ethical, brilliant, etc... I had several sleepless nights over this. So did Maggie. It reminded me of a time in High School when I didn't get into a certain program. My mom DID go down and have a talk with one of the people in charge and was told that the program was directed toward students who needed the extra-curricular "club" because they needed the confidence...and they thought I didn't. Hooey. But I remember feeling like I'd let my mom down. I know now I didn't; that she was hurting for me. So, when Mark DID go and talk to one of the people in charge, he didn't tell Maggie he was doing it.

Then, right on the tail of this disappointment, was her failed audition. She sang a beautiful solo, did a choreographed dance, followed stage direction perfectly, was bold, etc...and didn't make it. I was crestfallen for her. I wanted to fix it! How could they NOT choose her! But then I remembered how I tried out for cheerleader for four years in a row and never won. I put myself out there for everyone to see and everyone knew that I had never made it. There was cruelty and fun-making. It was miserable. When I did become cheerleader, it was only because a certain girl had moved away and they were bumping up the names on the list. Because a small amount of girls had tried out and they could only accept so many, only one girl had not made it. Me. And, yay, now by default I got to join. So good for the self-esteem to know that I was the absolute least popular girl in the entire school.

And I remembered how my parents handled that. They held me while I cried and then told me how proud they were of me. They assured me that High School popularity in no way defined me. This didn't sink in until years later, but my subconscious heard it. That's what I needed. To know that I could fail and still not let them down. That was more important than them fighting my battles for me.

So, when Maggie's name was not on the cast list, I held her. She actually didn't cry. She handled it with grace and took time to read over the list to see if there were girls she knew so she could congratulate them. She told me she knew she'd done her best, that she'd been very good, and that they just couldn't choose everyone. I thought, "Boo-Hoo! She doesn't need me!!!"

But wait. She doesn't need me.....to define her....to be her strength...to keep her from building her own life and personality. Cool.

So I was in a quandry. Do we let her try out for the swim team? We KNOW she will not make it. But, is that the point? Mark told me just yesterday that he is going to let her try out. He said it's good for her. My first impulse was to argue...to shelter her from pain, embarrassment, disappointment...from a character-building experience, life, growing pains. I must trust my daughter. I must use disappointments to help her grow. And I must NOT convey to her that I don't think she's good enough.

It's hard. But I guess if it was easy, there wouldn't be parenting classes, books, counselling, etc... As parents, let's encourage each other!

We can do this!! And so can our kids!!

Dead Trees and Timing

Today marks the end of one whole week of college life for me. I made it! And I love it! Every day has caused a flashback of college life 15 years ago and I'm reminded how blessed I am today. When I first attempted college, my finances were a mess, my confidence was nil, my physical being was under enometrial siege, my dating life had just taken a very public and embarrassing dive, and I was experiencing a chemical depression that was yet to be diagnosed.

Today is proof that one never knows what's in store. Ten years ago, I was resolute in my decision to never go back to school. My health had only deteriorated, my social life had only deteriorated, my confidence had only....you get the idea. Then the tree began to blossom.

In the summer time when trees seem dead, it's hard to picture them in full bloom. They have to rest, store up minerals, food, and water in preparation for the spring. They look weary, useless, lifeless, as if they have nothing to offer. But then the tree begins to blossom.

Maggie.

Those of you who know the story of my miracle child are probably tired of hearing about it. But, I never am. I am constantly amazed at the turn of events she set in motion. My health...because the endometriosis had killed so much of me, I was seeing five different specialists. On their recommendation, and the prayers and support of my family and friends, I became artificially inseminated. Pregnancy could offer the one last hope of reversing some of the endometrial damage; and if it didn't, then this would be my last ditch chance of having a child.

Let's remember....my life was a wreck. No social life, no future goals, no anything. I simple existed. Through the process of fertility and meeting Mark and maturing in my spiritual journey and deepening my relationship with family, a 180 took place. All of a sudden, my life had meaning. I began to see how all of the physical trials had led me to this moment. Maggie. I'd do it all over again if I had to.

I also began seeing another pattern emerging.

After almost a decade of marriage, I have had the chance to make out a time-line of my life and truly study it. How perfect everything seems now. Heartache, loneliness, depression, shame, destitution, dependence...gathering minerals, water, and food.

I am in school to get my Family Life Education degree which will ultimately lead to me being a family therapist with emphasis on child trauma. What kind of therapist would I be if I'd never lived what my future clients will have experienced? Empathy cannot be taught in a classroom and compassion is on no exit exam. I am so blessed to have had a dead-tree life in order to prepare for this wonderful spring I can now see.

Yesterday, a sweet friend said, "You're a survivor. You're going to be a great therapist!" I was humbled. I've never really thought of myself as being a survivor. Survivors fight through their mess and arrive victorious on the other side. I feel as if I tolerated the mess until God pulled me through to the other side. But regardless of how I got here, I'm here.

I love God's timing. I love His plan. I love that I am not God.

Fort Mascara

First Day of School. This well-known and widely-celebrated holiday seems to touch everyone at various stages of life every year. Today is my first day of school...again. Hi, my name is Kim, and I'm a 38 year old starting back to college in hopes (again) of completing my undergrad degree. So, is it different for me than for, say, my nine year old who is starting Fourth Grade today? Nope. No, it's not. She painstakingly planned her wardrobe, brushed her hair until is shone, packed her lunch with detail to every aspect and had her backpack at the door....last night. Me? I'm too old to care about things like wardrobe and all that right? I mean, as long as I have a pen, some paper, my textbook and the laptop, I'm good to go.

This should be the case but it's not. This is very interesting to me. It's interesting that I thought I didn't care what I would wear until I couldn't find a certain pair of jeans this morning. I mean, I have a few other pair of jeans but for some reason, I HAD to find THIS pair. Then, the shirt. I was going to just throw on a T-shirt. But from the looks of my bed, now strewn with blouses of every color and style, I may have been a little more invested in this as well.

Make-up. I haven't been wearing a lot of make-up lately, but when I was done this morning, I stared at the mask looking back at me from the mirror. Wow....layer much?

So, this is what I've learned....about myself, if not people in general. I care. As much as I wish I didn't, I do. When you see me today, those of you who WILL see me today, feel free to make fun. I am not so much insecure about the outfit, hair, make-up, etc, as I am just traditional. It's like putting up the Christmas tree even though you won't be home for Christmas. You just do it. It's just the way it's always been. I will always arm myself with lint-free clothing and heavy make-up when embarking on something new.

To all you gals out there pumping the mascara tube, may you be blemish-free and may your deodorant work all day today!

When Real is Real Annoying

It occurs to me as I lick my bowl that there's a little "slob" in me. It was a great pasta dish, I'm all alone in my own home, and there was sauce left at the bottom of the bowl! Yummy! So, if there were people here, would I have still licked the bowl? If I was at a restaurant, would I lick the bowl? No. No I wouldn't. Does this mean I'm a fake?

I know people who say, "I am comfortable with myself. What you see is what you get." And that's great. We should all be confident enough to show our true colors, stand by our own opinions, follow through with our words, and unapologetically sport our own style. I encourage this full-speed! In fact, I refuse to define beauty, success, love, reason, comfort, or style in any kind of general sense. These things are defined by each person for themselves. When you see my children wearing polka-dots with stripes, orange with red, hair sticking straight up, flip-flops with taffeta... just know it's not negligence. It's Mark and me setting a foundation of what's appropriate and modest, and letting each person in the house decide what makes THEM feel beautiful and stylish.

But, if I lick my bowl in private, should I lick my bowl public? I mean, I digressed a little with the whole beauty-style-definition thing. Real is real, right?

I believe I can be real and still NOT lick my bowl in public.

I knew a girl in college who was herself, her earthy-natural-selfy self, all the time. No matter where we were. She was sure of herself and didn't seem to need anyone's compliments or assurance. This was such a respectable quality. And I was totally put off by her. I cringed when I knew she would be around. Oh yes, what you saw is what you got. She passed gas, picked her nose, scratched, burped, and yes she licked her bowl. Gross. Not gross because she did all of those naturally human things. Gross because she did them where I could see her.

I'm all about being my own person bla bla bla. But, people, it's not about that. It's about considering others. To thine own self be true? Yes, in the privacy of your own home, feel free to be as true as thine own self would like. But hopefully, within you, there is a true sense of respect that will give you the common sense to hold your tongue when needs be, keep private things private, and observe politeness when politeness is called for.

I know this girl who, in the dorm rooms, would entertain us all by burping the alphabet in two octaves. I still smile just thinking about it. But she would never have done that in public. She was true to herself AND respectful of others.

You're not being fake by having manners.

The Last Dog Days of Summer

Our dog is sick. Most of you know this. Some of you don't, so I'll just tell you about it. One day, our Maisy just wasn't herself. Overnight, she went from hyper, happy, white, playful, bark-at-pedestrians sweetness...to...lethargic, drooling, not eating, dull-colored (in fact, yellow), despondant, quiet nothingness. We tried not to panic. We tried the normal stuff. On day three of same symptoms, we took her to the vet. We're thinking a bad virus, bug bite, snake bite...oh, no. Not something normal for our dog. She has Canine Autoimmune Hemolytic Anemia. This is a disorder that only 10% of dogs get. Of course. Her red blood cell count went from the normal range of 35-50 to 18. Then 15 the next day. We knew it was over. So few dogs survive from this. But the next day, the count went back up to 18. Wha..? So, now I'm force-feeding chicken broth to her through a dropper and Mark's sleeping on a pallet in the floor beside her at night and we're just countingher breaths.

Here's the good part. I haven't thought of myself once during the past few days. Service, even to a DOG, will get your head back in the game. It never fails. Thank you, God, for Canine Autoimmune Hemolytic Anemia. It reminded me there are things bigger than me. My dog is fighting for her life and she may pull through. I am fighting daily against the evil one and I already know I'll pull through.

Anger Rising...

Well, as expected, this new No Yelling Policy was put to the test immediately. Boy, did I wanna explode last night!

Oh, but first, let's rewind. A few weeks ago, I said the next leg of this journey is about understanding the reasons behind decisions I've made. You know...the if-I-could-go-back-I'd-do-it-all-differently decisions. Well, don't think I've derailed. Anger is the beginning. I remember making decisions based solely on the feeling of rage. This is where we begin and if I don't get it together, we may not move forward!

Last night, Mark and I went to one of the kids' Open Houses for school. It didn't take long for my insecurities to kick in...just stepping onto a school campus triggers them. I saw all the perfect moms. Tan, blonde, buffed, shined, styled and smiling. Children walking obediently beside them with matching hairbows and clean, pressed clothing. Having had therapy yesterday, I was wiped out. I was wearing my oh-so-baggy pants, had not a stitch of make-up on (and let's remember that I bawled my eyes out earlier), and only washed hair...not moussed, dried, and styled hair. No jewelry. Nothing really matched. My toenail polish was chipping. I hated every woman in the building. Anger rising.

I spent the entire Principal-Speech-Orientation-Bla-Bla-Bla calming myself. Good grief. These women deserve come credit. If they can run a household and still show up looking like diamonds, then way to freakin' go. I mean, way to go. Yes. Good. Very good for them. I could look good. If I wanted to. I mean, if I wanted to and had the energy and money and....Okay, let's move on already.

We got to the designated classroom, found our child's name and little desk. I started brightening immediately. The bookshelves, the calendar, the wall-art, the fun activities...Oh, I know this will be a good year! The teacher seems nice. What's this? I spy a name at one of the desks...a classmate from last year that is a best friend! Oh, how wonderful! I begin looking at other names. Oh, for the love of all that is right. There it is. The name of the Nemesis. And the Nemesis has a mom. The mom who always does everything perfectly. The mom who goes on all the field trips. The mom who is at the school involved in every micro-detail every time I show up and who makes me feel pittied somehow for not being as involved as she is. Anger rising.

At least the best friend is there. Until I talk to best friend's mom and find that they're actually probably going to home school this year. WHAT?!!!

Mark, take me home.

This may seem ridiculous to most of you. However, remember I have an anger problem and it takes so little to trigger it these days. Nemesis-and-Mom in my kid's class. Perfect.

I started to rant on the way to the car. I didn't yell. I did not ONCE raise my voice. I didn't hurl a stapler at anyone. I didn't curse...wait. Hmm. Well, I didn't come home and begin plotting the year to come.

I prayed. I prayed and I asked Mark to help keep me grounded. And here's something interesting. Mark brought this wisdom to the table. Why do I care? What does it matter to ME that this mommy needs to be there every minute of her child's day? Why do I care that everyone always loves her? Why do I care that she politics all year so that her child always gets all the Best-Freakin'-Person-in-the-World Awards? Why? I'm not jealous. I just have issues with that type of personality. And that's irrational. Let it go.

Deep breath.

Let her be what she is. Let what happens happen. It's not in my control. I can be the best mom I can be and that has nothing to do with the other mothering going on.

I. Will. Not. Be. Angry. Over. This. :)

(Ask me how this is going in couple of weeks!)

When a Plan DOESN'T Come Together

Just got back from therapy. I went in feeling good, came out feeling good, did battle in between. You KNOW it's a good session when you can say all that! When I began talking to M.T. (she let's me rattle), I didn't know where I'd end up. I felt like things were going pretty well. They are going well, yes, but there are still many areas needing work.

I like a plan. I like a plan so much that when things don't go according to plan, I kind-of have a little imploding moment that never bodes well for anyone within striking distance.

I have an anger problem. It wasn't a problem earlier in life. I had reason to be angry; but more than that, my anger had been honed and crafted into a very effective coping skill...my fierce anger protected me in any and every vulnerable situation. If I felt the least bit threatened (in any way...at all) or even the POTENTIAL of something as mild as a snide comment, I was armed and ready. I could cut you within an inch of your life with my words and you'd never forget it.

I like a plan. See, I'm not just talking about a nice schedule or a daily routine. Yes, those are wonderful! I'm talking about from the moment I wake up to the moment I lose waking consciousness, I must be able to predict most every situation. I must anticipate even the most mundane posibilities.

Crankiness used to come into play whenever any scenario played out that I had not anticipated. Something lasting longer than scheduled. Someone planning something at the last minute. Finding no more Diet Dr. Pepper in the fridge. It doesn't take much.

But no more. I'm safe now. Somehow I must re-craft the anger into emergency-only-mode. Get angry when there's a bear in the camp...not when we just ran out of popcorn in the camp. My first level of Operation Anger Depletion is no more yelling. This will be no easy task...but it's in play as we speak. The next time something goes against the plan, I will NOT yell at whoever is in the line of fire. I will not. I will not. I will not.

Crud. I hit something on my laptop just now and it erased four long (beautifully written!!!) paragraphs!!!!! I'm not yelling. Nope. Not even a little rise in the voice. Just going with it.

In the past, if that would've happened, I would've deleted what I had left, slammed the laptop closed and been frustrated for several hours.

Not this time. I'm going to post this anyway...it's missing quite a lot of eloquently conveyed points, but so be it. It is what it is.

Not yelling.

Let's see how long this lasts.

Hey, Gorgeous

I have insecurities. Anybody else? Well, I was watching a stupid science-fiction show during which a demon was feeding on everyone's fears and insecurities. It made things so clear. I mean, when I get all paranoid about a blemmish, let's be honest, a zit on my face or my unwashed hair or my more-than-a-few-pounds change since last year, what good can I possibly do? How can I help others, encourage others, be at service to others when I'm not even THINKING of others?!

It's important for me to fight the insecurities, sometimes minute by minute. Prayer of course is the best defense. Also, loving myself. There's a concept. Who doesn't want to be loved? I do. I want to be loved...so shouldn't I learn how that works first? When I look in the mirror, I have the choice of two responses: "Gross." or, "Hey, Gorgeous." That simple. And, I won't always agree with myself but it doesn't matter because that part of the brain that hears everything and believes it will hear and believe!

The next step is to step outside of myself for five seconds. Wow. So un-American!! Thinking, "What should I wear today? I wonder if this makes me look fat. Is that spot on my nose noticeable? I wonder if anybody thought what I said last night was stupid. I know that woman was judging me. That girl looked at my outfit in a weird way." This will gain us NO PRODUCTIVITY!!!! It's like a huge road block! Try this. Think, "What do I need to get done today....houswework...so, I'd better dress cool and comfortable. I need to call and check on Suzie and be sure she's feeling okay. And I wonder if that chicken completely thawed...I should make an extra casserole to be ready for any craziness. I hope I can write that encouragement card and get it out to the mailbox before the mailman comes. Oh, and didn't the boys want me to wash their red shirts? I'd better get moving!" Do you SEE the productivity in this scenario? Did any of that have anything to do with holy-cow-look-at-my-hair?

Let's take a different look. Let's say our insecurities have beaten us down to the point that we don't even care about surface anymore. We look in the mirror and say, "What are you lookin' at? It doean't matter what you wear, you're not going to get anything done today. Might as well stay in your pajamas and go sit in the living room until something forces you up." People, I've been here. I can show you the rearend-print on my living room chair. It's hard to climb out of this one. It's literally a step by step process to productivity. But here's where the 20-minute-strategy comes into play. Get out of bed.

Get something yummy...I drink an energy drink called Spark, you might grab some coffee, I know those who drink a soda...whatever it is, get it! While you're drinking this wake-up beverage, go through your day in your mind. "I don't have any appointments today. I should probably do a load of laundry." STOP THERE! You have your to-do list! So, when the beverage is gone-gone, get up and walk to your bedroom. If you feel like taking a shower, go for it. If not, don't...and don't feel bad about it. Look at the clock. Work for 20 minutes. Laundry...then, because you will probably have time leftover, just move to a room and straighten. As soon as the 20 minutes is up, stop! For 20 minutes, do whatever you want. And so on and so on. If you find yourself overwhelmed and don't know where to start, use your first working 20 minutes to make a list. But remember...you're the boss of the list, it is NOT the boss of you!

Insecurities. They rise at such inopportune moments. Have any of the following ever happened to you?

Talking to someone you think is smart and you say something so stupid.
Trying to look sexy for your husband (wife, boyfriend, whatever) and you fart.
Telling your kids to be careful and you turn around and knock something over.
Spend the day cleaning and doing laundry and feeling so productive and then your husband asks for the ONE thing that you DIDN'T wash.
Go to visit the in-laws and find you've forgotten to pack your children's socks and underwear (or coat in the dead of winter).
Set up professional family pictures and your hair won't cooperate.
Sit in the front row at church and your kid is the one who won't stop yelling.
Be visiting with someone when your child comes up and asks, "Mama, remember when you pooped in your panties that one time?"

These things will happen. And they will happen again. Stopping these things from happening is NOT the goal. Deciding right now how you will respond is where you gain the upper hand. Sticking your foot in your mouth is going to happen...so what will you do? How will you handle it that doesn't scream, "I'M A NUT JOB!!!" You WILL get up to the check-out with 20 people in line behind you and find you don't have your wallet. How will you handle it without crumpling to the floor or sitting in your car crying?

I'm rambling. I realize this. This post is for me and me alone. I've blogged for 20 minutes...time for me to get up and take a shower. It's on my list.

Narcissistic Tendencies

I like to pretend sometimes that I have control. Even of little things. I plan my day, knowing some things won't pan out, knowing I must remain flexable, but still thinking that at least SOMETHING I've decided on will come to be...and that if it does, I can pat myself on the back for being so organized.

I also like to pretend it's up to me whether or not people like me. I mean, to be sure, I must do my part (as far as it is up to me...). However, I take even that which is not up to me on my shoulders, which sets me up for the feeling of stress, worry, and ultimately either failure or misplaced pride. Let's go deeper here. I just really like to be liked! But only by people who used to like me but then stopped liking me for some reason. I don't resort to stalking...but just short of that. You surely know what I'm talking about...like a break-up. Say I break up with you but then hate that you don't like me anymore! What's your problem? And my kids! I don't let them watch certain t.v. shows or eat certain foods or say certain words but does that mean they get to resent me? *phh* These are in jest, of course, but there is one situation I struggle with. For real.

I wronged her. Kind of. There was something she wanted and I ended up getting it. It never would've been hers anyway, whether I got it or not...and I talked to her about it before hand. But after this thing came in to my possession, she completely stopped talking to me...except to say, "You've never known how to be a good friend. And not only are we not friends anymore, but I will never forgive you."

Now, before we get all "How dare she?!" let's be perfectly clear. I was a jerk in her eyes. I could've handled things much more gently. I took for granted the fact that she could never possess this thing, no matter what, and so it simply made sense to me that, since it WAS possible for me to have, I should go for it! I didn't go after it because she wanted it. In fact, I'd spent the last year helping her do whatever it took to attain it. I did everything in my power to see that she would get this thing... and one day, it was made clear to me that she could never have it. Ever. I still didn't know I was remotely interested in having it. But after a little while, just as you cannot choose certain aspects of your life, I became aware that this thing was mine already...without me ever realizing it.

Oh, we all know what I'm talking about here and most of you know who and where and why and bla bla bla...but let's pretend I'm being subtle. I truly want to vent this and I just as truly DON'T want to hurt anyone in the process.

It's been over eight years now. I have gone to her; written to her; called her; emailed her; prayed and prayed and prayed. I sought wise counsel and was advised to let it be. But....how? How can I just let it be? I have this need for her to acknowledge, as things turned out, she didn't really want this thing to begin with! I want validation. I want her to apologize for cutting me off and calling me a bad friend and not even listening to anything I had to say. I'm selfish in this agenda. I know it. It would seem I just want to feel better.

What about her, you ask. What about her feelings? She felt betrayed. I get that. I even apologized to her, multiple times. After the situation became clear, I must assume to both of us, that this thing we thought we had a choice in was never in our control. This thing was the decision maker and had chosen to come into my possession without any action on any of our parts. I didn't steal this thing. I didn't compete for this thing. But I still understand her feeling like I betrayed her.

And it's been almost a decade. Why do I still feel a gnawing inside of me at the knowledge that she still hates me? Am I that narcissistic? Help me out. It so happens, as most of you know, that every couple of years I dredge this up and begin pining away for closure. What I need to do is let it go. Again.

I know.

Therapy...Hide and Seek

We all have what's jokingly called guilty pleasures. Those things we like that may be considered a tad bit embarrassing. For example, I like to read books and watch movies about vampires. In fact, I'm currently watching the entire series of "Buffy the Vampire Slayer." I'm currently reading one of the Twisted Fairy Tales called "Sleeping Beauty, Vampire Slayer." You know those French Fried Onions you put on top of casseroles? I can sit and eat an entire bag as if they were potato chips. I like Eminem. I enjoy "My Little Pony." Sometimes I dance to New Kids on the Block, Bel Biv Devoe, En Vogue, and MC Hammer. See what I'm talking about? What leads us to these preferences? Our likes and dislikes are formed throughout our lives according to experiences, personality, and upbringing. The same is true of the decisions we make. I have made some pretty poor decisions in my life. In fact, there are chunks of my life that I wish had never happened. I still struggle with self-forgiveness and mortification at the memories. Yesterday in therapy, M.T. and I discussed the process that leads us to our desires. I take full responsibility for the decisions I made. I made them with eyes wide open. But what has bothered me more than anything is the desire to begin with. What kind of person, raised in God, knowledgable of consequences, even gets herself into the situation where she must make these decisions? I was seeking. Do any of you know what I'm talking about? I was as lacking something (and didn't know it) and therefore desperate to find it. Looking back, was there anything you wanted badly enough to enter in to wretched mistakes in order to find? Acceptance, love, popularity, authority, adrenaline rush, beauty, safety, pleasure, approval... I'm sure, being human, you can relate, even on the smallest scale. Well, come with me and we'll discover the motivation behind the desire to gain this elusive thing and why we looked for it where did. And why it was so seldom found where We looked. This is the next leg of my journey in therapy. It is heavy, intimate, sensitive, and raw. I will be sharing things you may not want to know about me. But if even one of you can gain peace from my shared truths, it's worth stripping bare my inner-most yuckiness; after all, God knows every detail. Therefore, what use is hiding? I do find encouragement from your feedback and stories from your own lives. What I took away that I want to share is that there is no condemnation; there is only understanding, healing, and peace.

Back to Therapy...Family Reunion

This summer has been so busy and it's been hard to find a time for my therapy sessions. I do make therapy a priority, but when I'm out of town most of the time, therapy is just not possible. The kids and I have tagged along with Mark as he's gone to talk to prospective students in different states. I usually have a few days between trips to do laundry, detox from junk food, and repack before heading on the road again. However, this time I actually had a week at home! I contacted M.T. and we made an appointment! Yesterday was the perfect day for a session. Quick recap. Remember what brought me to therapy to begin with? I was abused by a relative when I was a child; I thought I'd dealt with it; I grew up with this family member around here and there; I forgave him, moved on with my life, made terrible decisions, grew up, got married, had kids; then an article written in the local magazine triggered memories I was unaware I'd blocked. The past came crashing down on me like the perverbial anvil and life as I knew it stopped. Thus.....therapy. For the first time in 38 years, I made the decision to not attend our family reunion. This relative also attends the reunion and every year, I'd spent a weekend with him, watching him hug, laugh, visit and play. I truly had forgiven him, but I resented him. I had/have a hard time with the way things played out. So, like I said, with the encouragement and support of my husband and close friends, who were watching me fall apart, I decided not to take part in that weekend any longer. This is the weekend. Relatives from all over the country are now, this very minute, gathering in a campground...reuniting, catching up, sharing stories, laughing, snapping pictures, playing games... I'm the youngest of 42 first cousins. You can imagine how large this gathering is. We are a close family and value this weekend very highly. And I'm not there. I have anticipated and dreaded this special weekend every year of my life and I'm a tad angry about that. I don't like that the weekend created for the joy and strengthening of our family's bond has been so tainted for me. Anyway, that's why yesterday was perfect timing for a therapy session. What did I take away from therapy that I want to share with you? It's okay. It's okay to feel this resentment. I'm taking steps toward peace. I'm validated. M.T. believes in me. I no longer have the terror inside of me that somehow this darkness will remain inside me forever. And I am free this weekend. I had to sacrifice seeing dear and loved ones, new babies, old friends, and a lifelong tradition in order to gain this freedom and that is the hard part. The easy part? I am NOT spending this weekend watching my kids like a hawk for their safety. I am NOT spending this weekend with my skin crawling from unwelcome hugs. I am NOT spending this seeking being witness to children running and playing around this certain relative. Instead, I am spending the weekend safe, secure and in the sanctuary of my God, my husband, and my children. For those of you who've suffered hurt and injury from a relative, free yourself. Do not put yourself in their presence any longer. You can do it! Even when other family members give you dirty looks and have nasty reactions (been there!), you can do it!

Therapist in the Making

I finally know what I wanna be when I grow up! A helper. Mediator. Guide. Teacher. I want to be a professional, clinical therapist. Doesn't that sound exciting? It fits me. I'm all about being in other people's business. I spoke yesterday with Dr. Beth Wilson in Harding's Family Consumer Science Department. With her guidance and encouragement, I was able to map out a tentative plan towards a Bachelor's degree in Family Life Education. This degree will allow me to work as any number of a variety of positions, such as Case Worker, University Teacher, Director of Parent Services, Family Advocate, Family Specialist, Life Skills Specialist and Youth Counselor, while I continue on to get my Master's. Fun!! Starting in August, I'll hopefully be taking FCS 100, FCS 205, and FCS 322. Now, for the flip side of the coin. Me as the client. My own therapy sessions continue to help me and grow me into the person I've always been. That sounds weird, I know. Different people categorize healing in different manners. Let's see. If I was a free spirit/modern day hippie, I'd say, "I'm finding myself." An accountant, "I'm getting all my ducks in a row." A teacher, "I'm realizing my potential." A carpenter, "I'm strengthening my foundation." A doctor, "I'm self-medicatng the emotional wounds with a healthy regimen of therapeutic instruction." A teenager, "Dude. Right?" A politician, "In the interest of my voters, I'm applying character-building techniques with dedication and a hope for a better tomorrow." A housewife, "I should probably be doing a load of laundry and I realize dinner will be late, but if I don't get a handle on things, I'm gonna hurt somebody." A man, "Therapy? Nope. Just mandatory assessment." A woman, "I'm allowing my inner-self to recieve the attention I deserve and am sure the results are being noticed by everyone!" A comedienne, "Therapy, schmerapy. I just like the coffee and donuts they serve in there!" A kid, "I'm getting help. When I need help I ask for it. Don't you?" So you see, I'm healing. I'm healing and literally feeling more whole everyday. I am so proud of all of you who are also healing. Stay tuned for more about this healing process...next week we're going to touch on the topic of family dynamic!

The Right Now

Sometimes we get caught up in life. We set rules, goals, plans, boundaries. We record events, keep scrapbooks, take pictures, write journals. We fill our calendars, day planners, vacation time, weekends. All this can be wonderful; and certainly the intentions are admirable. There are moments however when our efforts turn around and stung us. We stress about broken rules, missed goals, cancelled plans, ignored boundaries. We lament forgotten video cameras, unfinished scrapbooks, dead camera batteries, weeks-behind journal entries. We begin to dread our calendar and the day's events and feel tired with our to-do lists. While on vacation, we think ahead to all that will have to be done when we get home. The lives we create for ourselves have every tendency to strangle the life right out of us. There's a Creator who's got it all under control. We need to enjoy the right now! It's hard but fantastic!

The Nutshell

I haven't stopped blogging...just took a break. To catch you up, we'll go over the past few weeks. Ready? Buckle up... Wonder if I have what it takes to go back to school and actually pursue what I intended to when I started college back in '94. Is Maggie really old enough to go to camp...for a whole week...in another state?? Who's that at the door...neighbor guy holding 9-mo-old grandbaby. Can I babysit? Of course. Bye, PaPa. Cute thing. Crying. Crying. Crying. Are you kidding me? Ah. Asleep. Whoops!!! Okay, I won't put you down! Five hours later...bye, baby. What? Will I babysit all week? Sure. Sweet baby. Where's Mama? In jail. Ah. Keep baby until you can bail her out? Yep. Doing very little in the way of preparing for Maggie to go to camp...and both boys to stay with grandparents. Not overwhelmed not overwhelmed not overwhelmed. Sort laundry with baby on hip...been awhile since I've done that. Can I handle all three of my kids being in a whole other state for a week? Can they handle it? Am I purposely obsessing over this to keep myself from thinking about going back to school? Back to school. That used to mean new clothes and shoes, new pencils, fresh notebooks, highlighters... Now it's iPads, MacBooks, and homework online! Am I too old for this? Bye, baby. Tired. Leaving for Iowa tomorrow and have done nothing but hold baby all week. Baby whose mama is still a baby herself and doesn't know yet if she wants to be a mama at all. Baby whose grandpa said he wished they could just give baby to me. Holding baby wasn't a waste of time. Driving to Iowa. 9 hours. Losing voice from reading outloud to family. My favorite thing to do. Taking Maggie to camp. Making her top bunk. Trying to make it comfy and big-girl and don't cry don't cry don't cry. Seeing a group of girls go by and remembering how mean and nasty girls can be. Feeling punched in the stomach. Smile. Bye, Maggie. Waiting until safely out of her sight to bawl my eyes out. Leaving boys with grandparents. Hugs. Kisses. Driving away. Bawling again. Talk to boys on the phone that night...stinkers aren't missing us at all! Home. Quiet home. Just Mark and me. Feeling sick. Make cookies and write notes to put in a carepackage for Maggie. Feeling sicker. Wondering if I'm who I thought I'd be at 38. In bed all next day feeling awful. Today. Everything is bright. Got text from friend who's camp nurse saying Maggie already has a best friend and is doing great. I feel great. Walk a mile. Sit down and have a firm talk with myself. I can do this. I will start school in the Fall and complete my journey toward becoming a therapist. Things are as they should be. I am blessed. I am healthy. I am getting up after submitting this blog and I will clean my house! What have you firmly talked to yourself about lately?

Therapy (8 and 9)

Sorry, All! I missed last week's therapy update! It actually goes with this week's so smooshing them together is easy. Last week we discussed my anxiety about attending the first ever Dale Ross Reunion. Y'all know that I was abused by a family member. Well, that person sometimes comes to the BIG family reunion; the reunion that started in 1960 and includes all descendants of my grandparents on my dad's side. Until this year, I'd never missed one. They're fun...swimming, badminton, volleyball, horseshoes, food, an auction, other creative fun stuff like a talent show, scavenger hunt, spoof beauty contests, and so much more. You can take nature walks, ride your bikes, and then enjoy the children's carnival. On Sunday morning we worship together outside. Beautiful! With ten original offspring, and 42 first cousins (all branching out into their own family units) it is always a larger-than-life experience. Who would want to miss that?! I love the activities and the visits with family. New babies, fun stories, important traditions, shared memories. It's always been a highlight of my summer. It's also always been the biggest nightmare. The abuser sometimes attends. Over the years, I've suppressed so much fear, anger, and grief...so many traumatic memories, impulses, and terrors. I developed defenses, coping mechanisms, and a determined numbness. This year, as you know, the internal dam broke and all, ALL, of the junk exploded inside me and, as M.T. said, began to ooze out. It oozed all over Mark and the kids, my health, my church life, my everything. It had to be dealt with. With all of the memories traumatizing me all oVver again, there's no way I could go to the big reunion. Face him? Face some of those who were so hurtful during the abuse at the time? Not on your life. So, my immediate family circled the wagons and came up with a plan that blew my mind. A reunion just for us! It was the perfect idea! We had actually been talking about wanting to do this for years. Now was the perfect time. So, this past weekend, I spent time in a campground in Texas hugging on new babies, sweet nieces and nephews, brothers and sisters, my precious mama and step-dad. There was no anxiety. I didn't have to strategically position myself so as not to be groped or "tickled" or "shoulder-massaged." I didn't have to watch my kids like a hawk. I was free! On Sunday morning, as I sat in that campground worshipping God with those I love most in the world, I was overcome with their love for me. They had conjured up a place of peace. They supported me with honest understanding. When they said they'd be there for me it wasn't just lip service. They were THERE!! Yesterday's therapy was all about the weekend in review. I am so blessed!! If you are reading this and thinking you could never have this kind of support, contact me. www.onceuponahousewife@gmail.com You don't have to have a weekend with family. And you don't have to do this alone! You are loved!!

Proud of My Daughter

I want to share with all of you this list my nine-year-old daughter Maggie made. Mark and I have been asking the kids if there's anything they'd like to learn or work on this summer. Phoenix, our six-year-old, said he'd like to learn more Spanish. Luke, our five-year-old, wants to learn to tie his shoes. Maggie had a whole list of things; and here it is. How to do laundry. How to iron. How to research and write book reports. How to write beautifully in cursive. How to cook more intricate meals. How to swim better; and more importantly how to dive head-first. Voice lessons. More piano lessons. Learn to properly babysit. Have a bank account. Learn to save money, even in hard, tempting times. Work on, check, and fix all mistakes in my book. (She's writing a book) Learn how to hold back my temper even when the boys are getting on my nerves. Practice handwriting since mine is so horrible. Work on my cursive!!! These are things I'd like review just before school starts. Cooking States and capitals Multiplication and division Spanish And my cursive!!! Y'all, my list for the summer doesn't hold a candle to Maggie's. I learn so much from her!

Me and Murphy

Just a short blog with wisdom I've learned. THREE REASONS TO DRESS AND PRIMP IN THE MORNING First, you are assured no oFne will come to your home unexpectedly; which is not the case should you remain pajama-clad and unkempt. Murphy's Law (and my experience) shows that you will have at least one person show up on your doorstep leaving you to race around, stuffing your hair in a clip, throwing on jeans and a shirt, don't forget your bra, and choking down a finger-dipped glob of toothpaste. You'll resent the visitor but make no mistake; this is your due punishment. Secondly, if you just take the time to look presentable, you can be certain you won't have to run any surprise errands. Murphy's Law (and my embarrassing experience) dictates that if you just throw on whatever's nearest, those two-sizes-too-small sweatpants and that stained shirt, you will undoubtably be called up to your child's school to confer with the teacher. You'll have to go in to your husband's office to sign some urgent papers. You will have to make a mad dash to the drugstore for Children's Tylenol (and you WILL run into Mrs. Super-Model-PTA-Betty-Crocker while you're there). And lastly, refusing the simple act of running a comb through your hair and taking a few minutes to put on deodorant will force Murphy's Law to teach you a final lesson. It's been my regrettable experience that your scruffy appearance will earn you the place on your child's favorite topics. "My mama always gives stinky kisses." "My mama jiggles inside her clothes when she walks." "My mama has the same hair as cartoon people." "My mama has black crumbs under eyes." "My mama doesn't have to bathe every day like I do." You get the idea. Take it from me. It's worth that smidgen of energy you usually save for putting the cereal on the table to instead brush, button, smooth, and spray. You'll be glad you did.

Therapy (7) {Coffee Break}

Every therapy session for six weeks has been emotionally harrowing for me. I've had to spend the week in between just recovering. It's been battle every time I walked through the doors and sat on that couch. Triumph after triumph I've left that office feeling weary, bruised, and shaken. Last week, if you'll remember, I took a trip back in time. The battle fought last week was one of epic proportions and tremendous outcome. I spent every day and night afterward just slowly reviving my strength and letting God continue to wash the new healing over and through me. By the time I walked back that office and sat down on that couch yesterday, I was only just starting to perk back up and feel a bit of energy. I didn't know how I'd be able to handle another session but I trust M.T. What I came away with from my seventh therapy session that I want to pass along to all of you is break time. Some things take more out if us than others and therefore require more rehabilitation time. M.T. wanted me to just talk to her. She didn't guide the subject or project a goal; she listened. We actually laughed a few times. It was like sitting and having coffee with a good friend. When is the last time you did that? It's a therapy all it's own. M.T. did respond to each subject I talked about. Her responses were positive, complimentary, encouraging, and uplifting. And let's remember what I've said before...M.T. is no joke. She doesn't "small talk," or schmooze, or tell you what you want to hear. When she makes uplifting comments, they are solid and full of truth. It was an hour of spiritual massage. My emotions took a deep breath. It was exactly what I needed. Please don't think we weren't productive though! We were! At the end of the session, as we were winding up our conversation, I realized I was not tired, I had not cried, but most importantly, I was thinking so clearly! The trauma I endured had its part in molding me into who I've been. Last week, we crumbled some of that and began rebuilding me. I'm like a choose-your-own-adventure story. I've reached the end of this chapter and I don't like where it's going. So, I'm going back to the beginning and taking a different path. It's the long-wished-for do-over! When I drove away from therapy session number seven, I felt an excitement building within myself. There was a life choice I could make right now that would change my course forever...for the better. I've been planning on going back to school in the Fall. And NOW I know exactly what my major will be. What I've always wanted to be but thought I wasn't smart enough. I was too scared to follow my dream before. But that fear is gone and only joy and determination is left in its place. I know without a doubt this is what I'm supposed to do with my life. And now I'm ready. You can probably guess. The point is to allow yourselves more healing time when necessary. Beating yourself to the point where you have to heal from your healing will be counter-productive. And don't underestimate a simple break in the action. That break may be just the mind-clearing moment that will change your life.

On Behalf of My People...

I've spent 6 weeks sharing with all of you my journey of healing. You've read about my therapy sessions and you've cheered me on. I am constantly spouting phrases like "we're strong!" and "we can do this!" It may seem like I am dressed in armor and battling with my head held high all the time. How discouraging for those of you walking this path with me. At least it would be for me. I don't ever mean to give the impression that this is easy or that I am in a constant state of triumph. Today, on behalf of all those emailing me their personal stories and reading my story for inspiration, I want to share the down-time. Most mornings, I get up grudgingly, get my mug of caffeine, and go sit in the living room. I FaceBook, watch T.V., play word games, and tell my five-year-old "just a minute" a lot. Sometime later, I get dressed in the most comfortable thing handy after assessing if I can go yet one more say without a shower. I make an attempt to do something productive...start a load of laundry, OR a load of dishes, OR put some things away. Then, as my energy is usually shot again by this point, I go back to the living room. I've placed the cheese slices, apples, and bananas where Luke can reach them and get his own snack. He's happy to come talk to sometimes and I usually don't even have to listen. I keep my Bible nearby and force myself to open it at some point and read a verse or two. I watch more T.V. I make myself get Luke lunch. My lunch is usually the same as breakfast...a mug of caffeine. Do you see a theme here? Going through an intense emotional battle can numb your brain to everyday tasks; it can take away all motivation; it messes with your appetite; it makes you exhausted beyond anything you've experienced. For all my sisters out there struggling through the muck to reach healing, it's okay. Allow it. Tap in to the supprt system you have around you and let yourself check-out for a little bit. If you don't have a support system, email me. I am not in a place right now to hold you up, but, Friend, I can introduce you to many who are and will! http://www.onceuponahousewife@gmail.com. I am wearing my armor. I am running head-first into battle. But make no mistake. I am a zombie on even the best days.

Bible-Thumping Rant

For some reason, I am so annoyed this morning. I'm annoyed that the last and present generations have smeared oil all over the Holy Bible in the name of annointment but with the motivation of slipping around in it to suit their purposes. I strive to not be self-righteous. I never want to be judgemental. And the caution in this has actually stopped my tongue on several occasions. Sometimes, however, the truth needs to be shared. This truth comes from God's Word, not Kim's opinion. You ready? We've smudged that oil around on the pages of the Bible until those black and white words created gray areas. WE made those gray areas. Not God. Let's clean it up. "Do you not know that the wicked will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor male prostitutes nor homosexual offenders nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God." (1 Corinthians 6:9,10) Now that's pretty black and white. And before you get all set to slash my tires, remember that I'm not the one who said it! It's not okay with God to get drunk, have an affair, live a homosexual lifestyle, steal, cheat, idolize anything or anyone that's not God, or talk ugly about someone. If you're doing any if these things (and believe me, this is for me too!), there's good news. If we're willing to give it up, there's a chance. In the very next verse it explains that those are baptized into Christ are covered. We're good. We're safe. (Whew!) We do have to give up the sinful lifestyle though. That's the tough part. And the tougher part is knowing and loving someone who's living in sin and thinks it's all okay because they've been baptized. It's not. Again, this is NOT The Gospel According to Kim!! You have no idea what my opinion is on any sin. You have no idea what sins I struggle with. I will only share God's opinion...it's the only one that matters. And, no, this Bible-thumping rant is not directed at anyone personally. It's directed at me. I need to remind myself that, although it's easier and preferable to live you're-okay-I'm-okay type lives, it is clear and simple that sin is sin. Love is also love and any of you who truly know me know I love fiercely. I love YOU fiercely!

Therapy (6) {Parental Discretion Advised}

Six weeks. Six weeks ago I walked into what would soon become my safe haven. I sat for the first time on what I would come to think of as my couch. I opened up to a woman who would soon become my map reader in an important journey. Six weeks ago, I began therapy...and I've brought all of you along with me. After laying the foundation, discovering tools and skills to use, seeing healing as a reality, and feeling the positive changes within me, M.T. decided I was ready for a field trip. On this sixth week of therapy, what I came away with that I want to pass along to you all is light. This field trip required no physical travel. We were going to revisit a memory...go back in time. No DeLorean necessary. (Although I did have the temptation to yell, "Great Scott!!") M.T. led us back to a certain room. This room was an upstairs room with nothing but an old mattress in it. It was THE room. Attrocious things happened in this room. To say the least, I was not excited about this trip. M.T. assured me of my safety and urged me to enter the room as I am today, a 38 year old wife and mother. I was able to walk in and view the little girl-me on that mattress. I almost turned and ran, but I was not alone. M.T. had come too and was standing right beside me. She walked right into the room with boldness and purpose. I thought she was going to pull the dark figure away from little girl-me, but she didn't. She walked to every wall and created a window, then she opened every one, letting in beautiful light. She didn't stop there. She walked to the center of this room and opened up the rooftop! Light flooded in! It was warm, luxurious light. But there came an even brighter light from somewhere in the room. M.T. urged me to look at the mattress. Seriously? This dirty mattress laying on the dirty floor of this dirty man's house had taken up residence in my heart and would not be washed clean. Standing there in this room, in my mind, I could smell the evil. I smelled him. I smelled his flesh and heard his whispering voice, which was sickening with arousal. I could not look. As I've said before, M.T. is no joke. She firmly encouraged me to look. And I did. That light, the mysterious light that had added such a glow to the room, was coming from little girl-me! From her-my inner core, this pure, white light emanated and shone. I saw things clearly for the first time in decades. What God had intended for me; what God had formed in me; what God had entrusted to me was locked safely away inside me. Unreachable. Purity, worthiness, innocence...it was there in that core light that lay out of his reach. My strength, abities, gifts, and talents were all bound tightly inside me where he could never touch. My potential, my laughter, my dreams, my joy....all there. Locked. He could paw away and never reach them. I saw the soul God had breathed into the body this creature would soon violate and that soul was intact! That soul was encased in light. Inside of little girl-me. Inside of 38 year old wife and mother me! It had always been here. I had focused so long on the handprints he'd left on the outside that I'd ignored the completely fresh and untouched light inside! Pretend with me that you were locked safely inside your home while Satan scratched at your door. When morning came and he was gone, would you then put your life's focus on your scratched up door? Everything inside, everything of value, is safe...unharmed! Please hear me. The trauma is real. The liberties he took on that mattress, that hayloft, all of the places he saw opportunity...were wretched. He was wrong and committed vile acts. It is imperative now for me to let the scratched door be what it is. It is scratched. It is marred with the finger-lashes of Satan. And the treasure behind the door is safe. That must be acknowledged as well. All of the facts are important! I must see what happened in the past with eyes seeking whole truths. For your own journey, if you can, go back to THE room. See the light. It is there. It is still there inside of you! After such an exhausting session, I've spent the last few days sleeping or lounging about. Tonight, Mark is taking me out to dinner. Part of me doesn't want to put forth the effort of getting gussied up. But I have only to close my eyes to see little girl-me, light shining, and I think, "She deserves a night out!" She's finally getting the respect she's longed for...from her 38 year old self. Continue sharing your journies with me through emails and texting. I love all of you and I KNOW you are strong enough to plow on in this healing process! This little light of mine? Well...I'm gonna let it shine!

Therapy (5)

Have you ever cried so hard that your nose was still red the morning? Your eyes still burn and your throat is sore? That was me Wednesday morning. According to M.T. I've transitioned into a new phase of therapy. During the first four sessions, we laid the foundation. Information, information, information! I am all about information. Knowledge is power. I can research. I can dig. I wrap answers around myself and feel secure with all the pieces fitting neatly in place. I think there was a bug part of me hoping that therapy was going to put all the pieces together for and then I'd be done. What I never considered was what would happen after I had all the information. I had previously typed up this long post about the therapy session only to have it disappear!! Instead of going into all that detail again, I'm simply going to say this. Having all the answers helps tremendously. It is not, however, the end of the journey. Learning who said what to whom; whose motivation was what; who did this; who didn't do that...these things certainly help me. I do want to understand everything as it truly took place. But it's what I do with all of the information that matters. And M.T. is has made it clear that this is going to be hard, painful, exhausting, and sometimes dreaded. I think you all know me well enough to know my reply. Bring it. Let's do this!(this will have to post full of typos because I'm not risking the whole save-edit-save-preview-save-post.)

Therapy (4)

Ahhhhhhhh. What was life without therapy? First of all, before talking about the actual session, let's cover some basics you should know. If you're thinking about beginning therapy, here is one standard I'd recommend you uphold. It's a deal-breaker. Look up the words "safe" and "haven." Now, when trying out a therapist, you determine if his/her office and demeanor exudes "safe haven." If they do not, this is not the therapist for you. Be discerning. Do NOT, however, be immature and use this "safe haven" measure as an excuse to drop a therapist when really you're just afraid. You can do it! Now, let me share what I've learned about how to get the most out of your therapy experience. Ladies, don't wear eye makeup. I mean, honestly, if you're not crying at some point, you may ask yourself if you're truly opening up. Secondly, wear comfortable clothes. Pajamas are even okay (unless you're in therapy because you have a fear of getting dressed or something). After your sessions, you're going to be tired. Preparing your family's meals ahead of time will help you tremendously those first few days after your session. Enough? You want to get to the juicy stuff? Okay. Yesterday was my fourth session. What I took away that I want to share is innocence. Are you innocent? What about when you were young? 10 years old...innocent? For those of us living as adults who were traumatized as children have generally not ever felt innocent. I remember being five years old, kneeling at my bedside, begging God to forgive me and take away that icky feeling. I didn't know what I felt guilty about, but I felt guilty nonetheless. I spent the rest of my life feeling dirty, ashamed, less-than. And I never could really find the horror that needed confessing. Because, of course, there was no horror for me to confess. The horror that happened did not rest on my shoulders. It was not my decision to do what was done to me. That little girl who was being violated was as innocent as any other little girl. Acknowledging that is HUGE. Take time this week to delve into your past. See yourself with honest eyes. If you're living with memories of childhood trauma, please let go of the guilt inside of you. Wrap the child inside of you up and love her. She is precious. She is innocent.

Therapy (3) {Time is on my side}

Hot on the heels of Therapy 2 is my third session. The schedule has changed and my sessions are now on Tuesday mornings. This is perfect for me! Okay, I neglected to mention in the T-2 post that the flower I planted was a lily. It is so beautiful! I haven't gotten another flower yet, in honor of this third session, because I'm torn between another lily or an iris. Thoughts? So, M.T. opened our session with "How was your Easter?" You all probably asked and answered that same question all week right? And I'm willing to wager your answers sounded something like, "Great!" "Super!" "Spent it with family. Really enjoyed it." "Hunted eggs. Lot of fun." My answer? "Miserable." M.T.'s response? "I thought so." She knew Easter was riding the coattails of our second session. She explained that my emotions are very raw right now. No fun. But necessary. What I brought away from the session that I want to pass on to all of you is time. "There is a time for everything and a season for every activity under heaven..." Ecclesiastes 3. When the time to cry is upon us, we cannot also expect it to be the time to laugh. When the time to be silent is present, we cannot also be in the time to speak. So is it with the time to heal. When we are healing, we need to expect nothing more from ourselves than healing. In this present day of quick-service, multi-tasking, instant-gratification we must simply stop and check the time. I wish sometimes that I was in a Harry Potter universe with a wristwatch that said "Cry...Laugh...Born...Die...Embrace...Refrain..." and so on. If we recognized the correct time for each moment, we'd be so blessed. I encourage you to recognize and acknowledge what time it is in your life right now. Ask God to show you and then revel in it. As I said, for me it is a time to heal. It will always be the time to cook, clean, kiss boo-boos, and carry on the tasks of the day. But knowing that this is a time of healing for me makes it so much easier to know that I am allowed to cry, be exhausted, have a short-temper, be less motivated, and be prone to silence. It also helps me to thank God for this time, knowing that, "He has made everything beautiful in its time." What time is it for you? And how are you acknowledging it?

Therapy (2)

The Standard

It's so impossible to live up to the standards we think others are living up to sometimes. For example, if I'm going to try and pattern my life after Martha Stewart, I should remember she's a single, wealthy woman with nothing better to do than make a wreath out of eggshells. She's not a mom of three small children, living on a budget, and boasting a whole five minutes of her OWN time in the day. If I'm going to pattern my life after Doris Day, I should remember she was more character than person. She had an army of hair and make-up people at her disposal and nothing better to do than pose in front of the camera with her vacuum cleaner. She didn't have to clean out that vacuum's filter, listen to complaints about her cooking, or see more of her lipstick on her daughter's baby doll than on herself. If I want to pattern my life after my mom, I need to remember that I'm younger right now than when she gave birth to me. She had already gained so much wisdom, experience, and know-how as to make mothering look easy...and fun. She DID have three small children and live on a budget, but I never saw it. I should remember that the Mama I know already had it figured out by the time I came along and it didn't come to her overnight. I still have a lot to learn before reaching her status. If I want to pattern my life after anyone, then it needs to be someone I want my kids to pattern their lives after as well. After all, if they get the notion to pattern their lives after me then I'd better be looking in the right direction my own self. You know where this is leading. Jesus. If I want to have life of peace, joy, love, warmth, and a sense of belonging, I'll look to Jesus. I can never be as perfect as He is, and somehow, that enhances the beauty of Him being my pattern. He, and only He, is worthy.

What's in it for me?

I'm posting this from the iPhone so there's bound to be a ton of mistakes. But the pc is down and this is all I've got. I went to church yesterday morning; first time I attended a Sunday morning service in well over a month. I was feeling pretty proud of myself. I showered and took special care with my brand new hairstyle. I wore something super-cute, jeweled and perfumed myself, and we were on our way. I was full of anticipation. My friends were going to be so surprised...so glad to see me. And everyone was sure to go wild about my hair! Didn't quite work out that way. People were sweet. A few said they'd missed me. Fewer gave me brief bugs. And only ONE person even mentioned my hair!! To say the least, I was disappointed. I pouted a little as I made lunch. Then it hit me. I had gone to church for accolades...compliments...attention. I went from pouty to ashamed really quickly. So, I had not gone to worship...praise...learn...encourage. What was wrong with me? I'd spent over a month keeping away from church in order to heal, to meditate, to cry. Did I become so self-absorbed during those weeks that I even made Sunday morning worship about me? Good grief!! I've reevaluated my perspective and hope to never again see my wonderful congregation in terms of what they can do for me! I'm sorry, church family.

Therapy (1)

As promised, I'm reporting on my therapy session yesterday. It was my first one (of many, most likely) and if I had to wrap it up in one phrase, I'd say, "Intense relief." M.T. (My Therapist) is no joke. She gets it. She's intuitive and kind and can read me so well. After only one visit. But first things first. Her room is classic. Candles, plushy furniture, and yes, I got to sit on a couch. I had a flash of Bob Newhart all of a sudden and wanted to lay back and start telling all my woes. But I didn't. M.T. listened and I talked and I listened and she talked and we both listened and I cried and she earned her paycheck this day. Things I learned that I must pass along to all of you... You're never too old to feel you need permission for some things. You can give yourself permission. Give yourself permission to feel what you feel...to cry...to let go...to confront...to have crazy moments. Give yourself permission to break patterns. Give yourself permission to give yourself permission! Holding things in is not brave or stoic. It's destructive. Letting people see you cry is healthy for you AND them! Being brave and courageous just means you press on even when your bawling your eyes out. No one can do it alone. Everyone needs God. The sooner you give it to God, whatever it is, the sooner the healing can begin. Until then, you will plateau on a numb and ugly cliff; the edge of which you will be drawn daily. And this one is the kicker...the one that shocked me. I've read a lot of books, studied psychology in college, watched a ton of Criminal Minds...I know how it works. I mean, I can pretty much pinpoint problems and use reason and logic to sift out a solution. But what M.T. said at the end of our session kicked my tail. She said, "I'm not going to be writing any prescriptions for you in here. But I do have a requirement. Our therapy sessions are going to be intense. It's going to be hard. When you leave my office every week, you will feel like you've done battle; because you have! You will be mentally drained and physically weak. In order to truly heal and process and make that battle worthwhile, you MUST balance it out with something extraordinarily positive. I am requiring you to pamper yourself Thursday and Friday. You are not allowed to apologize for anything, feel obligated to anyone, or schedule any event. Thursday, you must leave my office and go for coffee...coffee someone makes for you; not from your coffee pot at home. You must buy yourself something or witness something beautiful. You go home then and you rest. You let yourself just rest. Friday, you will still be exhausted...but you must go do something for yourself. Manicure, pedicure, hairstyle, massage, five-star restaurant, etc. Something you would normally never do for yourself." My reaction..."Yeah. That would be nice." Her reaction to my reaction..."Kim, I'm serious. Let me put in this way. You must have this intense therapy and I mean INTENSE. If you DON'T balance it with the pampering afterwards, I'll drop you. I will not see you as a patient because to take this seriously means to treat your entire being." I drank a caramel machiatto yesterday and stopped at the nursery to buy petunias and marigold to plant in my front garden on Saturday. I decided to plant something new after every therapy session. In 20 minutes I'm going to a salon to get my hair completely redone. I'll post pictures soon! Give me your feedback...can't wait to hear your thoughts. Let strong be someone else's job today. Be weak and open and raw today.

Power and Peace

Forgiveness is hard. It's something we know we should do and it's something we crave for ourselves...but it's hard. Sometimes it's near-impossible. I used to think that, by my forgiving someone, they were "let off the hook." If I forgive them, they got away with it! They wronged me! They should hurt, feel sorry, be miserable! Forgive them? If I forgive evil people, aren't I saying, "That's okay. I don't mind?" And if I DON'T forgive them, am I holding them in check? Am I controlling their destiny? Am I withholding their happiness? Is my forgiveness so powerful that by NOT granting it, do I in fact deprive the wrong-doer of any goodness? There are so many ways we could go with this topic. Turning the other cheek, seventy-times-seven, love, grace, holding a grudge, etc... Here's where I'm going with it today. Arrogance. Who am I? Who am I to decide anyone's fate? Can I read their hearts? They can't read mine. They don't know my motives or my guilt. They don't know my earnest repentance. So....guess what. I can't know theirs. When the End of Times is upon us, is the Almighty going to pull me aside and ask, "So, Kim. Who should I let in and who should I send to the big fire-hole?" Um. No. No, I don't believe I'll be up there handing out ticket vouchers for the Heaven Express. IT'S NOT UP TO ME!! So, what does it matter whether I forgive or not? Why are we told to do it at all if there's no power in it? No bearing on the end result? Well, there is power. There is end-result-bearing. It just has NOTHING to do with the person we're angry with. Forgiveness is about us. Forgiving other people is for OUR benefit. How? I'm glad you asked... Forgiveness gives peace. Withholding forgiveness creates a black spot on my heart that grows and intensifies causing, not only emotional disturbance, but physical illness. It stops me from living. God says vengeance is His. By forgiving, we are making a statement to God. We are saying, "I HATE what this person has done! I hate it! It hurts! It's awful and I can't wrap my mind around the fact that they did it and are getting away with it! I also trust You, God. I trust that you ALWAYS keep your promises. I trust that vengeance is Yours. I trust that you've got this and I can let go of it." Forgiveness is hard. Sometimes, I have to re-forgive a person over and over. Sometimes, I have to finally just say, "God, please make me forgive this person! It's too hard! I can't seem to do it! Change my heart!" Forgiveness is part of healing; maybe it's the most important part. If you're serious about taking this journey toward healing, you've got to spend some time humbling yourself and letting go. Forgiveness is hard. I know.

No Church for Me

Today is Sunday. Most of you will be attending church somewhere and praising our God. I hope so. He is to be praised. He is awesome. I haven't been to church in a month. Or more. God is still God and I'm still His servant. But I haven't been able to attend a church service because there are people there. How many of you are at this point or have already been through this moment in your recovery? I'm talking about any recovery. Grief, pain, loss, illness, trauma. There's a moment for some of us where we just can't be around a lot of people. This bothered me a lot at first. Those of you who know me know I'm a people-person. I love a crowd. But, the crowd lately seemed too much for me. This was shocking to my system. I literally felt foreign in my own mind. I freaked out. I asked Mark why he thought I was petrified all of a sudden of leaving the house. He didn't know, of course, but he had great advice (of course). "Kim," he said. "Don't fight it. Whatever this is, it must be part of your healing. Just listen to it and allow yourself to be who you need to be right now." My good friend Ann told me, "Kim, you're not being unreligious. You're healing. It's okay." Well, this was wise and so of course I didn't listen. I fought it and got angry with myself and forced it and fought it some more. Then I looked for reasonable excuses. If I don't have the energy to cope with my own pain right now, how could I possibly hope to help anyone else? How can I smile and sing and hug and visit? Well, if you're blessed enough to attend a congregation like West Side Church of Christ, you know that you never have to do any of those things. Love is unconditional and you're accepted no matter what. So...what's my problem? Why can't I want this anymore? Why can't I go out? WHY? WHY? WHY? It's healing. It's simply a part of the healing process. I needed to finally give myself permission to wave goodbye to my husband and kids as they drove away to church and allow myself the silence I craved. I needed to listen to the wounded person inside of crying out for attention. I needed to slow down and relax. Mark and my friend Ann knew this and were patient with me until I gave in. Thank you! If you're struggling with something and you don't understand why you don't want to go to church or be around people...just relax. It's part of it. And it doesn't last. The quicker you allow yourself to embrace the silence and solitude, the quicker you'll be back in the church building. Singing. Visiting. Smiling. For real. Instead of fighting it, ignoring it, trying to excuse it, or pretending this is the new you...Just sit down and be quiet and let the pain wash over you. Let numbness wash over you. Let whatever wants out wash over you. You can do it. And you'll be so glad you did. I'm here. Keep talking to me. Those of you who've been in contact with me so far, good for you! Way to be brave! Give yourself permission to be quiet and still for as long as you need. You are loved!

No Party Here

Something occurred to me yesterday. I'm not throwing myself a pity-party; and I don't want anyone else to either. When I began having flashbacks, etc, a few weeks ago, I did allow myself a "why me" moment. But just a moment.

Sexual abuse is disgusting. It's poisonous. It can seep through to the heart and corrupt and distort and tarnish the abused's life. If allowed. If not dealt with. If the spine doesn't perk up and kick the fear out. Sexual abuse is not to be talked about lightly or flippantly so I hope none of you take this as some kind of gloss-over. Simply sharing the journey and this is what's hit me now.

It just occurred to me that so many abuse victims don't share their stories because, when we do, we get "that look." The eyes of the ones listening see us and say, "You poor dear." Well, the pity is needed...for a moment. Then healing must take its place. Allow us to be strong. Allow us to say, "Yes, I was abused. It was disgusting. I was violated. I'm not alone. It happens every day. It's a big deal and I'm dealing with it big; but it's not going to break me."

Pity me not...just journey with me. This is a post-on-the-fly...I'm in a hurry. My hubby, kids, and in-laws are waiting for me so we can go out to eat. I just had to share this thought in tribute to all the trauma victims out there who are past the pity-party and on to the healing! Be strong, my friends! And for those of you who just beginning this journey or considering this journey to healing, ALLOW the pity-party to wash over you. ALLOW the tears to come! ALLOW the yelling and fit-throwing. And let me know when it's over. I'll help you pack up your party-supplies and get your life back. I love you! You are loved! Say it! Believe it!
onceuponahousewife@gmail.com

The Common Volcano

We like to keep up with celebrities. Most of us, anyway. We like to know about their personal lives...who are they married to? Where were they born? What kind of childhood did they have? We sympathize and relate and try to personalize them as much as possible because it's fun to have something in common with a famous person.

I have the same birthday as Rob Lowe, Gary Sinise, Kurt Russell, Mia Hamm, and Nat King Cole.

I was born in Texas...just like Beyonce, Patrick Swayze, Dennis and Randy Quaid, Luke and Owen Wilson, Forest Whitaker, and many more.

I also share some of the same struggles as some celebrities. I had endometriosis like Julianne Hough, Jillian Michaels, Padma Lakshmi, and many more.

It's cool to share something personal with a person in the lime light. Unless what you're sharing isn't cool at all.

Like Tyler Perry, Oprah Winfrey, Terry Hatcher, Queen Latifah, Drew Carey, Tatum O'Neal, and too many more, I was sexually abused as a child. This is not something anyone likes to share. But it's something we need to talk more about.

I was sexually abused from the age of 2 until I told at the age of 10. After I told, my world went into a kind of dream-like status until I was able to adjust and feel "normal". But recently, normal hasn't been cutting it. I wasn't told any details of what happened after this came to light. My parents thought they were protecting me. Their hearts were in the right place and they DID protect from a lot of the shrapnel that fell out. But I didn't FEEL protected. I didn't know they were doing anything about it. It was a difficult time for everyone involved and, for my brothers, sister, mom and dad, they just wanted me to never have to deal with it again. They couldn't know that, by not talking about it and dealing with it to my face, it would lay burried like a waiting volcano inside of me.

It recently erupted.

I'm 38 years old now. Shouldn't this all be in the past? Shouldn't I be over it? Not even close. I have nightmares, flashbacks, body-memories, and good old fashioned crying jags. My husband and children and friends have cushioned themselves around me to soften my blows and to reassure me that it's not too late to "fix" this inside of me.

I know there are more of you out there. Talk to me.

onceuponahousewife@gmail.com

I'm the kind of gal who keeps things in the light...out in the open...where Satan hates it. I don't mind sharing my journey and I hope it's encouraging and helpful to somebody out there.

I start therapy one week from today. I'll let you know how it goes.