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!