When Mark and I found out we were pregnant with child #3, we had a 3-year-old and a 2-month-old. We weren't exactly jumping for joy at first but then we were ecstatic. Woo-Hoo!!!! We wanted a full house and, having had a late start, didn't know if that would be in His design. It was and we loved it! After the first appointment with my doctor, I went with Mark on a business trip. Being newly pregnant, with a newborn as well, I was exhausted. I remember how perfect life seemed when I began my nap...cool hotel room...comfy pillows....Phoenix was playing in a make-shift playpen... we'd left Maggie with my parents....perfect. Then my cell phone rang.
My doctor was calling me...on a weekend...when he knew I was out of town. Cytomegalovirus. Wait...What?! I had WHAT?! Cytomegalovirus, commonly known as CMV, is the leading cause of infant blindness, deafness, and retardation. Upon birth, if there is a birth, some of the best case scenarios saw the infant being immediately taken to NICU and having chemo treatments and several other invasive and uncomfortable treatments. My doctor advised me to abort immediately.
After suggesting it for a third time, we finally told the doctor it wasn't going to happen. We were keeping the baby, no matter what. Well, after months of special care (CMV feels like the flu and mono at the same time by the way), we were as ready as we could possibly be. NICU nurses on hand, equipment near by, prayers in progress, I gave birth to our second son, Luke Alexander Pruitt. He was perfect. Ten little fingers and ten little toes. His APGAR was perfect. His organs were perfect. There was nothing wrong with this baby!! NOTHING!! Woo-Hoo!!! Of course, consequences of CMV could present as far away as 2-years-old. Wait...what?!
For two years I watched Luke. I looked for any signs of hearing-loss, weakened eye-sight, or learning disabilities. I couldn't do anything about hearing or seeing, but I did my best to feed him intellectually. The first song I sang to him was The Alphabet (well, after Jesus Loves Me). It was funny...when I started singing The Alphabet to him, he was exactly two minutes old...and he looked up at me and held a steady gaze throughout the whole song. After that, we noticed that anytime he was fussy or upset, we could just sing The Alphabet and he'd calm right down. When he was seven months old, I was trying to distract him from a hurting boo-boo so I sang the song wrong on purpose. "A B D C..." He whipped his head around to me and said, "C D!!"
I thought, I have a genius! I put some alphabet blocks in front of him and (in between chewing on them and throwing them) he put them in perfect alphabetical order. At nine months, he crawled over to a book and read the title to me. I thought he just knew what the book was. "Color and Shapes." He'd looked at it and said, "Colors and Shapes". I turned it to a random page and pointed to a green circle and asked, "What's that?" He said, "Green circle!" Genius! Woo-Hoo! He could spend an hour or more in front of the refrigerator spelling words with the alphabet magnets. At 14 months, he began writing...sentences. (Spelled correctly).
Mark used math flashcards with Maggie and Phoenix and at 18 months, Luke crawled up in is lap and began answering right along with the others. Correctly. At the age of two, he read through a third-grade math workbook and corrected two mistakes in it. Genius! Woo-Hoo!
Never forgetting the CMV, I began to convince myself that Luke was autistic. I had him tested and was told he wasn't. My sister-in-law is an excellent speech pathologist and works with several autistic children and their families. I asked her to please evaluate Luke. She did. She said he wasn't autistic. Wait...what? He's THIS smart and NOT autistic?! Evaluate him again.
And again.
And again.
Not autistic. His last evaluation was at 6 years of age and he is flat out, no argument, not autistic.
Hmmm. Back up to three-years-old. I took him to see his pediatrician (had a cold) and while we were waiting to see the doc, Luke wrote several math equations on the little chalkboard in the exam room. His doc came in and was very intrigued by this. He asked Luke several questions involving shapes, letters, colors, numbers...spell imagine, what's two squared, what color do yellow and blue make, what do you call a shape with eight sides, etc... I'm thinking, Woo-Hoo! FINALLY, someone is listening! I waited patiently for the doc to turn to me and say, "Kim, Luke is autistic." He turned to me and said, "Kim, Luke is a once-in-a-generation, Einstein genius. Pretty cool." Wait...what?
I asked, "What does this mean? What do I do? How do I help him?"
His doctor laughed at me (as often happens) and said, "You relax, watch him, and follow his lead. I hope I'm still alive to see what this kid is gonna do. It's gonna be amazing."
Right. Watch him. Follow his lead.
Maggie and Phoenix are very bright. They are gifted. They are advanced. They are well above average. Maggie was reading novels at age 5. Phoenix could multiply by 13 in his head by age 6. Genius, I can do. Woo-Hoo! All is normal and wonderful! Mark and I have three smarty-pants kids!
When Luke turned 6, things began to change slightly. He was still smarter than anything we'd ever seen before (and random. He would spontaneously say things like, "I like the author Patricia Polacco."), but now he seemed even harder on himself than ever. Luke is a perfectionist. We'd known this since the beginning. He'd accidentally misspell a word and have a total come-apart. He would get an answer wrong and be physically ill. But, at the age of 6, he would have frequent melt-downs for seemingly no reason. "I AM THE LAST ONE TO GET READY FOR SCHOOL!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!" We're not talking, "Aw, man, you beat me." No. Screaming and crying.
Then came the guilt. Upon realizing he'd overreacted, he would apologize. Not, "I'm so sorry." More like, "I'M SO SORRY...I'm really sorry. Really. I'm a fool. I'm just so so so sorry. I feel awful. I think I'm sick. I can't stop feeling awful. I'm so sorry."
I had my sis-in-law evaluate him again. She had much to say, all wise. Upon on urging, we called his doctor. I talked to the nurse and said, "My son's a genius and that's all well and good, but he's having emotional melt-downs all the time. What do we do?!" She advised us that in these situations, the doctor would set up an appointment for consultation and then go from there. She called me back within the hour and said, "Um he says he knows Luke and, yes he is a genius, and this is to be expected. No consultation necessary." And, just like that, we had an appointment with a psychiatrist. Woo-Hoo! Wait...What?
I don't know how many of you know Luke. I don't know how many of you know of a Luke or have a Luke of your own. I thought smart, gifted, above average was as "good" as it got. But those descriptions don't even touch my son. I found that "true" geniuses are amongst the most anxious people in our society. Their brains work over-time. The majority of them are on anti-anxiety medications. They make up a large number of suicides in the U.S. Being gifted is awesome. Being a genius is something altogether different.
We being our journey June 3rd. After his appointment with the psychiatrist, I will share what we know. Prayers are appreciated. And if you know Luke personally, please love him with patience.
Wednesday, May 29, 2013
Friday, May 10, 2013
That Ugly Sweater
Have you ever received a gift that you didn't like? Did you go to the person who gave it to you and say, "I hate this. Gross."??? Probably not. There are some of you who will return it and exchange it for something you DO like. But let's pretend this is a handmade gift that was made especially for you. You cannot return it. Do you go to the person who made it and go on and on about how much you hate it? Maybe you complain to someone else about it, "This is the ugliest sweater I've ever seen, but I have to wear it." But wouldn't you just DIE if that got back to the one who made it and gave it to you?
How many times have I commented negatively on some part of my body? That God made. Especially for me.
I have crooked teeth. Stringy hair. Weird toes. Knobby knees. Round face. I could go on. And I have. On many occasions.
And God can hear me.
Just think twice about putting yourself down from now on. The one who created you can hear you.
How many times have I commented negatively on some part of my body? That God made. Especially for me.
I have crooked teeth. Stringy hair. Weird toes. Knobby knees. Round face. I could go on. And I have. On many occasions.
And God can hear me.
Just think twice about putting yourself down from now on. The one who created you can hear you.
Thursday, April 18, 2013
Love vs. Romance Part II
The word love is beautiful. It can mean so many different things on so many different levels. Our preacher recently did a sermon on that very point and I found it, not only interesting, but applicable to every single area of life. "I love peanut butter. I love my grandmother." That's what he said that made things start clicking for me. He, of course, went on to impress upon us that we cannot begin to fathom the depths of God's love for us. We will never come close to showing or receiving that amount of love as humans. Marriage and parenting are the two relationship-worlds that allow us a taste of that love and I want to concentrate on marriage today.
Before we start dating, we dream. Right? You have a certain "type" in mind. Blond, smart, funny, thin, muscles, talented, etc...we get really detailed sometimes. Is in a band, will be a lawyer, will like camping, will be a Republican. We start erasing any chance of negativity. Never leaves the seat up, has a soothing voice, doesn't snore, is organized, likes the same music as me, wants exactly four children, has straight teeth, takes out the trash.
None, hear me, NONE of the above equals a happy and healthy marriage. Your mate may be every single thing on the check-list and still it is not important and you will not be satisfied by it.
You notice I left of the Spiritual check-list? Okay, let's do that. Is a Christian, reads Bible every day, sings sweetly, goes to church regularly, gets involved with congregational activities.
Nope. Still not there. I dated a guy that had every one of those Spiritual items nailed. He was also demeaning, controlling, and threw me down a flight of stairs.
While we're dating, we check the list, modify the list, add to the list and re-write the list. Doesn't have to drive a great car but must want to some day, has good hygiene, wants kids, likes dogs, hates cats, sometimes snores but will probably look into fixing that, will always stop and listen to me, very attractive, will come to church with me, etc...
Still not there.
I have the luxury of hindsight. And, by the way, I am the original cautionary tale when it comes to dating and mate-hunting. Those of you who know my husband are probably still amazed, as am I, that we're together. But I know what works and what doesn't. I know you can throw that list out the window. None of it matters.
Yes, you want a good one. Of course. Do you have to write that down? Do you have to remind yourself to look for a good mate? Nope. So, let's forget the list for a minute. Okay? Let's talk about love.
Love at first sight does not exist. Lust at first sight is about as close as you're going to get here. And, might I just add, when lust at first sight happens, it sure complicates things because our vision becomes so blurry to what's important.
When you're buying candy, do you put on your wish-list "must be wrapped in gold, packaged in plastic, and have red writing on it."??? No, who cares about that? You want chocolate, nuts, nougat, etc.... the inside. When you buy a vegetable, do you think, "Oh, this will match my kitchen decor!" Uh, I hope not. You think of its content, its taste, its health-value. Yes?
You get my point. So, let's move on.
After you're married, it doesn't matter what kind of music your spouse likes, whether or not they snore, whether or not they hold your hand in public, whether or not they are ecstatic about attending church, whether or not your toes curl up when they kiss you.........
~~Christianity IS important. Please hear me saying that it's in the heart, not in the actions ultimately.~~
The feeling you have for your spouse is not love until you've experienced sacrifice. There it is, ladies and gentlemen. Sacrifice is what love is. Underneath the wrapping of sex, companionship, comfort, and commonality, there must be sacrifice.
When we are told in the Bible that men must love their wives as Christ loves the church, we're talking about the willingness to climb up on a cross and die for her while she's in the midst of hurting and betraying you.
When we are told in the Bible that women must respect their husbands, we're talking about praising them and encouraging them in the midst of their jobless, lazy, money-spending phases.
If love was easy, it wouldn't cover a multitude of sins. If love was an emotion, we wouldn't be commanded to do it.
Be resigned to the following:
You WILL wake up one morning and not really like your spouse. You WILL wonder if there's even one small thing you have in common. You WILL become frustrated, annoyed, angry, put-off, hurt, lonely, worried, and weary during your marriage. This is not Heaven. Do not expect it.
Know the following:
How you feel doesn't matter. You look to GOD to fill the hole inside you. You look to GOD for your happiness and satisfaction. Your spouse is your opportunity to show GOD your love. Your spouse will NOT often deserve your sacrifice. It will NOT be fair and balanced. You will NOT be pat on the back.
You WILL be amazingly content and peaceful. After sacrificing, you will be so filled with the Spirit that you will feel ready to take on the world. After sacrificing over a period of time, you will feel something for your spouse that you had no idea you were capable of feeling. Love. That's what you will finally have.
Love is action. Love is a process. Love is who we ARE not what we expect to receive. God is love and we represent.
If this scares all of you single folks out there...GOOD. Marriage is not to be entered into lightly! Your list should be more...will I stand by her if all of her hair falls out and she forgets my name? Will I commit to respecting him if he hurts my feelings? Will I nourish her and die for her? Will I honor him and adore him?
Respect
Honor
Adore
Those are the vows our hearts must keep. Love is a bi-product. Love is the destination. Go ask a couple who have been married 50 years how they feel toward each other. Ask them if the list mattered.
Before we start dating, we dream. Right? You have a certain "type" in mind. Blond, smart, funny, thin, muscles, talented, etc...we get really detailed sometimes. Is in a band, will be a lawyer, will like camping, will be a Republican. We start erasing any chance of negativity. Never leaves the seat up, has a soothing voice, doesn't snore, is organized, likes the same music as me, wants exactly four children, has straight teeth, takes out the trash.
None, hear me, NONE of the above equals a happy and healthy marriage. Your mate may be every single thing on the check-list and still it is not important and you will not be satisfied by it.
You notice I left of the Spiritual check-list? Okay, let's do that. Is a Christian, reads Bible every day, sings sweetly, goes to church regularly, gets involved with congregational activities.
Nope. Still not there. I dated a guy that had every one of those Spiritual items nailed. He was also demeaning, controlling, and threw me down a flight of stairs.
While we're dating, we check the list, modify the list, add to the list and re-write the list. Doesn't have to drive a great car but must want to some day, has good hygiene, wants kids, likes dogs, hates cats, sometimes snores but will probably look into fixing that, will always stop and listen to me, very attractive, will come to church with me, etc...
Still not there.
I have the luxury of hindsight. And, by the way, I am the original cautionary tale when it comes to dating and mate-hunting. Those of you who know my husband are probably still amazed, as am I, that we're together. But I know what works and what doesn't. I know you can throw that list out the window. None of it matters.
Yes, you want a good one. Of course. Do you have to write that down? Do you have to remind yourself to look for a good mate? Nope. So, let's forget the list for a minute. Okay? Let's talk about love.
Love at first sight does not exist. Lust at first sight is about as close as you're going to get here. And, might I just add, when lust at first sight happens, it sure complicates things because our vision becomes so blurry to what's important.
When you're buying candy, do you put on your wish-list "must be wrapped in gold, packaged in plastic, and have red writing on it."??? No, who cares about that? You want chocolate, nuts, nougat, etc.... the inside. When you buy a vegetable, do you think, "Oh, this will match my kitchen decor!" Uh, I hope not. You think of its content, its taste, its health-value. Yes?
You get my point. So, let's move on.
After you're married, it doesn't matter what kind of music your spouse likes, whether or not they snore, whether or not they hold your hand in public, whether or not they are ecstatic about attending church, whether or not your toes curl up when they kiss you.........
~~Christianity IS important. Please hear me saying that it's in the heart, not in the actions ultimately.~~
The feeling you have for your spouse is not love until you've experienced sacrifice. There it is, ladies and gentlemen. Sacrifice is what love is. Underneath the wrapping of sex, companionship, comfort, and commonality, there must be sacrifice.
When we are told in the Bible that men must love their wives as Christ loves the church, we're talking about the willingness to climb up on a cross and die for her while she's in the midst of hurting and betraying you.
When we are told in the Bible that women must respect their husbands, we're talking about praising them and encouraging them in the midst of their jobless, lazy, money-spending phases.
If love was easy, it wouldn't cover a multitude of sins. If love was an emotion, we wouldn't be commanded to do it.
Be resigned to the following:
You WILL wake up one morning and not really like your spouse. You WILL wonder if there's even one small thing you have in common. You WILL become frustrated, annoyed, angry, put-off, hurt, lonely, worried, and weary during your marriage. This is not Heaven. Do not expect it.
Know the following:
How you feel doesn't matter. You look to GOD to fill the hole inside you. You look to GOD for your happiness and satisfaction. Your spouse is your opportunity to show GOD your love. Your spouse will NOT often deserve your sacrifice. It will NOT be fair and balanced. You will NOT be pat on the back.
You WILL be amazingly content and peaceful. After sacrificing, you will be so filled with the Spirit that you will feel ready to take on the world. After sacrificing over a period of time, you will feel something for your spouse that you had no idea you were capable of feeling. Love. That's what you will finally have.
Love is action. Love is a process. Love is who we ARE not what we expect to receive. God is love and we represent.
If this scares all of you single folks out there...GOOD. Marriage is not to be entered into lightly! Your list should be more...will I stand by her if all of her hair falls out and she forgets my name? Will I commit to respecting him if he hurts my feelings? Will I nourish her and die for her? Will I honor him and adore him?
Respect
Honor
Adore
Those are the vows our hearts must keep. Love is a bi-product. Love is the destination. Go ask a couple who have been married 50 years how they feel toward each other. Ask them if the list mattered.
Wednesday, March 6, 2013
Tightening the Belt
I'm still in therapy, yes. It's pretty rough right now. In fact, I'd like to not talk about it for this post. Maybe later.
This post is just my two cents on our economy. The gorvernment should.....zzzzzzzzz. Did I lose you? Yeah, me too. So let's don't sit and wait for them to tell us what to do. Let's do what we already know will work. Let's tighten our belts, our wallets, our standards!
I've broken this up into three categories...The Okayers. The ThatSoundsCoolers. The RightOnSisters.
The Okayers:
You want to give Operation Taking Back Our Country a shot? Here's what you do:
1. Sit down and figure out how much you make per month versus how much you pay per month to live.
2. Pick one thing to do without for one week (i.e. soda, fast-food, two vehicles, junk food, movies, any new items that are not mandatory for life-existence)
3. Pray every night for one week that our country will get back under God where we belong.
4. Do NOT celebrate and pat yourself on the back after your sacrificial week buying extra to make up for what you missed.
Feel good? You should! You just helped the country's economy! You're active!
The ThatSoundsCoolers:
You think being actively involved in determining the future of our nation sounds like a good plan? Here's what you do:
1. Sit down and figure out how much you make per month versus how much you pay per month to live.
2. Choose three things to do without for the entire month (i.e. soda, fast-food, two vehicles, junk food, movies, any new item that you truly do not need, name brands, recreation that costs money)
3. Put ten percent of what you make per month into a savings account and LEAVE IT ALONE.
4. Pray every night for one month that our country will get back under God where we belong.
5. Don't go off the deep end when the month is over. Instead, review the month and decide which sacrifice wasn't that awful and do it again!
The RightOnSisters:
You get it. You know it's up to us. You know that there's not a magic fairy that will wave her wand and fill our pockets, mouths, hopes. Here's what you do:
1. Sit down and figure out how much you make per month versus how much you pay per month to live.
2. Go over your "pay-out" section and decide which vehicle you are going to sell, or will you trade them all in for one. The average family does not need more than one vehicle. Take a bus, ride a bike, walk, catch a ride with the neighbor (chipping in for gas of course).
3. Stop going out to eat. Special occasions ONLY (and no, "I feel like pizza" isn't a special occasion)
4. Ramp up your prayer life. Write prayers in a journal. Pray WITH someone. Get our nation's dilemma in your heart and lay it at God's feet several times a day.
5. Do. Without. You don't NEED four bags of chips. You don't NEED Kobe beef. You can live without more than you realize. Try it.
6. Try only doing five loads of laundry per week...and the same with dishes run in the dishwasher.
7. Ask your parents and grandparents how they did it and take notes!
8. Find out where the free meals are and take part. There is shame in this and it's even a great chance for ministry. Get involved by serving these meals!
9. Stick. To. Your. Budget.
10. Now you may celebrate. You may pat yourself on the back. Burgers are half-price at Sonic on Tuesdays. :) (Notice what restaurants are promoting free kids' meals, etc. For those special occasions, you STILL don't have to break the bank).
I could go on. Do you NEED the latest phone? Can you do without so much? I truly believe that if EVERYONE in America gave up fast food on just ONE day (not the same day) we would see a dramatic difference. It is up to us. Will you do it?
This post is just my two cents on our economy. The gorvernment should.....zzzzzzzzz. Did I lose you? Yeah, me too. So let's don't sit and wait for them to tell us what to do. Let's do what we already know will work. Let's tighten our belts, our wallets, our standards!
I've broken this up into three categories...The Okayers. The ThatSoundsCoolers. The RightOnSisters.
The Okayers:
You want to give Operation Taking Back Our Country a shot? Here's what you do:
1. Sit down and figure out how much you make per month versus how much you pay per month to live.
2. Pick one thing to do without for one week (i.e. soda, fast-food, two vehicles, junk food, movies, any new items that are not mandatory for life-existence)
3. Pray every night for one week that our country will get back under God where we belong.
4. Do NOT celebrate and pat yourself on the back after your sacrificial week buying extra to make up for what you missed.
Feel good? You should! You just helped the country's economy! You're active!
The ThatSoundsCoolers:
You think being actively involved in determining the future of our nation sounds like a good plan? Here's what you do:
1. Sit down and figure out how much you make per month versus how much you pay per month to live.
2. Choose three things to do without for the entire month (i.e. soda, fast-food, two vehicles, junk food, movies, any new item that you truly do not need, name brands, recreation that costs money)
3. Put ten percent of what you make per month into a savings account and LEAVE IT ALONE.
4. Pray every night for one month that our country will get back under God where we belong.
5. Don't go off the deep end when the month is over. Instead, review the month and decide which sacrifice wasn't that awful and do it again!
The RightOnSisters:
You get it. You know it's up to us. You know that there's not a magic fairy that will wave her wand and fill our pockets, mouths, hopes. Here's what you do:
1. Sit down and figure out how much you make per month versus how much you pay per month to live.
2. Go over your "pay-out" section and decide which vehicle you are going to sell, or will you trade them all in for one. The average family does not need more than one vehicle. Take a bus, ride a bike, walk, catch a ride with the neighbor (chipping in for gas of course).
3. Stop going out to eat. Special occasions ONLY (and no, "I feel like pizza" isn't a special occasion)
4. Ramp up your prayer life. Write prayers in a journal. Pray WITH someone. Get our nation's dilemma in your heart and lay it at God's feet several times a day.
5. Do. Without. You don't NEED four bags of chips. You don't NEED Kobe beef. You can live without more than you realize. Try it.
6. Try only doing five loads of laundry per week...and the same with dishes run in the dishwasher.
7. Ask your parents and grandparents how they did it and take notes!
8. Find out where the free meals are and take part. There is shame in this and it's even a great chance for ministry. Get involved by serving these meals!
9. Stick. To. Your. Budget.
10. Now you may celebrate. You may pat yourself on the back. Burgers are half-price at Sonic on Tuesdays. :) (Notice what restaurants are promoting free kids' meals, etc. For those special occasions, you STILL don't have to break the bank).
I could go on. Do you NEED the latest phone? Can you do without so much? I truly believe that if EVERYONE in America gave up fast food on just ONE day (not the same day) we would see a dramatic difference. It is up to us. Will you do it?
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Back in the Trenches
After a restful break, I started back to therapy yesterday. Did you know that you need breaks from therapy? It's a very important phase of healing and involves a lot of self-honesty in order to be productive. At some point in therapy, if you're doing it right, you will bond so strongly with your therapist as to begin depending on them. You will use them as your coping mechanism instead of creating and employing your own. In a crisis you will think, "I have my therapy session in a few days. I'll deal with this then." And while dealing with your issues in therapy is the main idea, building your own coping tools is one of the main goals. Your therapist is your partner and there to help you build, not to become your crutch.
So, after taking the mandatory break, I got to reunite with M.T. yesterday morning. It was wonderful! We laughed and cried and I left feeling refreshed and motivated. I also had to admit that I wasn't as healed as I had originally thought during my break. I found that there are scars so deep within me that I must dig through issues upon issues just to reach the main pain.
All of you have brought something of your past with you into adulthood. No matter how Ozzie-and-Harriett your childhood was, you bear a mark, or marks, of trauma on some scale. Perhaps it was seeing a dead body at the first funeral you attended. Maybe it was being made fun of at school. Maybe you don't even know what it was but you have idiosyncrasies that are tell-tale signs of some negative event in your past. Certain smells, tastes, words, sights...something will set you off.
Most of these traumas are part of what molds us into maturity and makes us who we are, just as the positive events. For example, the smell of pumpkin makes me think of Christmases as a child. Good memory. The smell of fish makes me remember when I was ill as a child and forced to take cod liver oil. Bad memory. However, this bad memory is not a make-it-or-break-it event. It just defines the reason I'm not big on fish. No big deal. I don't prefer pumpkin any other time of the year but the holidays...then I can't get enough! No big deal.
But when the past event was a trauma too horrific for the mind to process, the mind produces a box to bury it in until you are able to pull it out, examine it, and see it for what it is. These boxes are called coping mechanisms. The shape of the box depends on the severity of the trauma.
You've probably heard people say, or have said yourself, "I hate hospitals!" When asked why you may get an ambiguous response. Upon opening that box however, you might uncover a time when you were in a hospital and treated badly...maybe a loved-one died in a hospital...maybe you saw a lot of blood and passed out. Whatever the event, every time you are faced with having to enter a hospital, that box begins humming in your head and you have to choose whether or not to open it. Not realizing the box is even there, however, you simply go through the split second process of memory/association/response. Hospital/Bad/Don't Go There!
Something I want to tell you right now is that these boxes are there to protect you! They are kind and will open slowly if you have help. They will not, however, wait forever. Some of the boxes erode over time and the contents simply spill out all over your life causing flash-backs, body-memories, and chaos. Just recognize it for what it is. Oh. I had a box. The stuff is oozing everywhere. I need to clean this up. Get thyself to a therapist! It's what they do.
For those of us whose trauma bears the sign of sexual abuse, there are several boxes. Have you ever seen Matryoshka dolls, or as Americans call them, nesting dolls? You find a doll within a doll within a doll, etc. That is the image I want you to have when learning how to open sexually traumatized boxes. You will not, hear me, will NOT heal after the first doll. Not after the second or even the third. You must be patient.
Those of you who have only a box here and there and do not have a mind filled with Matryoshkas, this post is primarily for you. Statistics show that someone you know has been sexually abused. So, you need skills. You need to know that sometimes, those Matryoshkas are going to ooze all over you. You. Cannot. Fix. It. Okay? But you can be gentle as the hurting friend grapples for help.
Signs of oozing:
Anger. Anger is probably the most favored of go-to emotions. Most people who choose anger as their outlet do not do it consciously. They feel completely justified. Here's what's happening...
The ooze takes the form of anger and the more rage the person can allow to seep out, the less ooze there is in their mind for the moment. It becomes all about getting the ooze out by whatever means possible. For the time-being. Anger feels good. It's a balm for the hurting heart. The violent husband or father; the verbally abusive wife or mother; the yelling teacher, etc...not all of this is due to trauma, but some is. Just know that.
Another vice of choice to get the ooze out is...well...a vice. Drugs or alcohol can mask the pain. For the time-being. Not all drug-users and alcohol-drinkers are doing so to mask pain, but some are. Most are.
Promiscuity; self-destructing in relationships; sarcasm at a people-repellent level...sometimes these are signs of oozing Matryoshkas. Please just know that.
The important thing to know, for those of you suffering from the ooze, is that all of these things are temporary. Only therapy (through God!) will bring eternal healing.
M.T. and I battled long and hard to clean up after that first nesting doll. I am not prone to anger like I used to be. I am not prone to depression like I used to be. Such wonderful victories! But we're not done. Not by a long shot.
To all of you harboring boxes and Matryoshkas, I love you. You are so close to freedom. Do NOT stop battling!
So, after taking the mandatory break, I got to reunite with M.T. yesterday morning. It was wonderful! We laughed and cried and I left feeling refreshed and motivated. I also had to admit that I wasn't as healed as I had originally thought during my break. I found that there are scars so deep within me that I must dig through issues upon issues just to reach the main pain.
All of you have brought something of your past with you into adulthood. No matter how Ozzie-and-Harriett your childhood was, you bear a mark, or marks, of trauma on some scale. Perhaps it was seeing a dead body at the first funeral you attended. Maybe it was being made fun of at school. Maybe you don't even know what it was but you have idiosyncrasies that are tell-tale signs of some negative event in your past. Certain smells, tastes, words, sights...something will set you off.
Most of these traumas are part of what molds us into maturity and makes us who we are, just as the positive events. For example, the smell of pumpkin makes me think of Christmases as a child. Good memory. The smell of fish makes me remember when I was ill as a child and forced to take cod liver oil. Bad memory. However, this bad memory is not a make-it-or-break-it event. It just defines the reason I'm not big on fish. No big deal. I don't prefer pumpkin any other time of the year but the holidays...then I can't get enough! No big deal.
But when the past event was a trauma too horrific for the mind to process, the mind produces a box to bury it in until you are able to pull it out, examine it, and see it for what it is. These boxes are called coping mechanisms. The shape of the box depends on the severity of the trauma.
You've probably heard people say, or have said yourself, "I hate hospitals!" When asked why you may get an ambiguous response. Upon opening that box however, you might uncover a time when you were in a hospital and treated badly...maybe a loved-one died in a hospital...maybe you saw a lot of blood and passed out. Whatever the event, every time you are faced with having to enter a hospital, that box begins humming in your head and you have to choose whether or not to open it. Not realizing the box is even there, however, you simply go through the split second process of memory/association/response. Hospital/Bad/Don't Go There!
Something I want to tell you right now is that these boxes are there to protect you! They are kind and will open slowly if you have help. They will not, however, wait forever. Some of the boxes erode over time and the contents simply spill out all over your life causing flash-backs, body-memories, and chaos. Just recognize it for what it is. Oh. I had a box. The stuff is oozing everywhere. I need to clean this up. Get thyself to a therapist! It's what they do.
For those of us whose trauma bears the sign of sexual abuse, there are several boxes. Have you ever seen Matryoshka dolls, or as Americans call them, nesting dolls? You find a doll within a doll within a doll, etc. That is the image I want you to have when learning how to open sexually traumatized boxes. You will not, hear me, will NOT heal after the first doll. Not after the second or even the third. You must be patient.
Those of you who have only a box here and there and do not have a mind filled with Matryoshkas, this post is primarily for you. Statistics show that someone you know has been sexually abused. So, you need skills. You need to know that sometimes, those Matryoshkas are going to ooze all over you. You. Cannot. Fix. It. Okay? But you can be gentle as the hurting friend grapples for help.
Signs of oozing:
Anger. Anger is probably the most favored of go-to emotions. Most people who choose anger as their outlet do not do it consciously. They feel completely justified. Here's what's happening...
The ooze takes the form of anger and the more rage the person can allow to seep out, the less ooze there is in their mind for the moment. It becomes all about getting the ooze out by whatever means possible. For the time-being. Anger feels good. It's a balm for the hurting heart. The violent husband or father; the verbally abusive wife or mother; the yelling teacher, etc...not all of this is due to trauma, but some is. Just know that.
Another vice of choice to get the ooze out is...well...a vice. Drugs or alcohol can mask the pain. For the time-being. Not all drug-users and alcohol-drinkers are doing so to mask pain, but some are. Most are.
Promiscuity; self-destructing in relationships; sarcasm at a people-repellent level...sometimes these are signs of oozing Matryoshkas. Please just know that.
The important thing to know, for those of you suffering from the ooze, is that all of these things are temporary. Only therapy (through God!) will bring eternal healing.
M.T. and I battled long and hard to clean up after that first nesting doll. I am not prone to anger like I used to be. I am not prone to depression like I used to be. Such wonderful victories! But we're not done. Not by a long shot.
To all of you harboring boxes and Matryoshkas, I love you. You are so close to freedom. Do NOT stop battling!
Wednesday, January 9, 2013
Type-A Confessions
I have GOT to get disciplined! How? Some people are simply born disciplined. And, I guess, truth be told, I am easily "disciplined" to do things I am interested in. Housework does NOT fall under this category. How many nights have I gone to bed thinking, "Tomorrow's going to be different. No television; no books; no phone calls; no computer; no errands; no cross-stitch; no blogging; no logic puzzles.....I'm going to clean the house! I'm going to wash all the dishes, do all the laundry, sweep, vacuum, make beds, take out trash, put books away, spray Febreeze in the boys' room (multiple times), prepare meals in advance, sweep the porch, write letters to all my family, read fourteen chapters in my Bible, write in my journal, make the children cupcakes and cocoa for their after-school-snack, have dinner hot and on the nicely-set-table when Mark gets home,......"??? I tend to be an extremist.
There something to be said for extremism though. When I DO start cleaning house, I don't like to slow down until it's done. The problem here is that if I'm forced to sit down before it's done (phone call, sick kid, etc...) I rarely get back up. Here's an example: When we got back home from our Christmas vacation in Texas, I decided to rearrange the furniture in our bedroom. I'd been wanting to do it for awhile but Mark and I are usually too busy to find a time to both just get in there and do it! Plus, the furniture is of the old-school heavy-heavy and it appeared quite a daunting task.
But I really thought I'd go crazy if I didn't do it. I mean, it got in my head and I became obsessed. So, one morning, after everyone left for school/work, I just started doing it. I removed the mattress and box spring; removed all the drawers from the dresser; heaved, the 70-million ton mirror off the dresser (that the painters put on upside down after painting the bedroom...2 years ago), and just started moving, moving, moving. I got things backwards and had to move several heavy item more times than I should've. But finally, it was done. I felt GREAT! Of course, I hadn't done any dishes or laundry and now my back was out (pb&j for supper). However, I was proud of myself and felt very productive. I was able to add a bookshelf in our room and the iron and ironing board fit too!
I was so proud. I think I talked myself into "deserving" some time off. So, for a week, I did nothing. Oh, I might've folded a dishtowel or put away a book. I think I actually did cook something one night. Oh, and I made our bed! Once.
So, now all the work is piling on top of me. I'm overwhelmed. The pride I felt earlier has dwindled to this little of glimmer of oh-yay-look-what-I-did-instead-of-washing-my-family's-socks. I did a load of laundry and two loads of dishes yesterday. That's shameful. Two loads of dishes?! Why oh why were there TWO LOADS?! (and there are still dishes in the sink)
So, all of you out there who are naturally disciplined, please be patient with me. I have great intentions...I'm not lazy...I truly love things to be orderly and neat...I do not just wait around for someone else to do the work for me (although, I wouldn't stop them if they did!)...and I actually enjoy the domesticity that comes with being a housewife.
It's not always this way. Sometimes I tornado through the house and have everything spit-spot within a few hours. I wonder why I can do that some days and other days it just seems impossible.
I like knowing why. I like understanding. I research. For those of you who follow the religion of the Myers-Briggs Put-Me-In-A-Box Stereotype, I am a "Super Feeler." I am an IF. This means I have no problem waiting until the last minute to do things and in fact often do a better job when I DO wait. I work very well under pressure and often require a deadline to motivate me to do anything. I am more apt to sit and read than to follow a to-do list. You get the idea.
For those of you who know about the wonders of Blood-Type...I am type A. This means that I do not require intense exercise to stay fit. I can drink all the coffee I want. I don't prefer meat but can pretty much eat all the time. I am sedentary (not lazy) which means I require a lot "down-time". I love being around people but often require sleep after having an intense crowd around me. I enjoy going out and socializing, if I'm able to come home and just sit afterward. I can never have too much sleep. In fact, I need all I can get.
So...having told you all of that, I'm wondering where discipline fits in. How it fits in. I realize it starts in my mind. I also realize that I've conditioned myself to believe that a "good" housewife keeps a clean house all the time; is tireless and organized; is always prepared for company; still has time and energy to do all of the out-of-the-house stuff; takes a shower every day; always has time to sit in her clean house and read or sew or whatever. That sounds ridiculous when I type it out like that. But it's what I feel deep inside.
It's why I feel less-than when my house gets overwhelming, like it is now. Maybe it's not so much that I need discipline; afterall, I do the work and I do it with my family as a priority (i.e., I sort through the mountains of laundry to get the basketball uniforms, underwear, favorite jeans, etc...washed!). Maybe what I need is a new way of defining housewife. Maybe I need to be proud of myself when all of my children can go to bed (can GET to their beds) with full tummies and a content smile. Maybe I should always strive for excellence but remember that I am excellent regardless of my have-done list.
Hmm. Perhaps I will now get up and wash something. Maybe.
There something to be said for extremism though. When I DO start cleaning house, I don't like to slow down until it's done. The problem here is that if I'm forced to sit down before it's done (phone call, sick kid, etc...) I rarely get back up. Here's an example: When we got back home from our Christmas vacation in Texas, I decided to rearrange the furniture in our bedroom. I'd been wanting to do it for awhile but Mark and I are usually too busy to find a time to both just get in there and do it! Plus, the furniture is of the old-school heavy-heavy and it appeared quite a daunting task.
But I really thought I'd go crazy if I didn't do it. I mean, it got in my head and I became obsessed. So, one morning, after everyone left for school/work, I just started doing it. I removed the mattress and box spring; removed all the drawers from the dresser; heaved, the 70-million ton mirror off the dresser (that the painters put on upside down after painting the bedroom...2 years ago), and just started moving, moving, moving. I got things backwards and had to move several heavy item more times than I should've. But finally, it was done. I felt GREAT! Of course, I hadn't done any dishes or laundry and now my back was out (pb&j for supper). However, I was proud of myself and felt very productive. I was able to add a bookshelf in our room and the iron and ironing board fit too!
I was so proud. I think I talked myself into "deserving" some time off. So, for a week, I did nothing. Oh, I might've folded a dishtowel or put away a book. I think I actually did cook something one night. Oh, and I made our bed! Once.
So, now all the work is piling on top of me. I'm overwhelmed. The pride I felt earlier has dwindled to this little of glimmer of oh-yay-look-what-I-did-instead-of-washing-my-family's-socks. I did a load of laundry and two loads of dishes yesterday. That's shameful. Two loads of dishes?! Why oh why were there TWO LOADS?! (and there are still dishes in the sink)
So, all of you out there who are naturally disciplined, please be patient with me. I have great intentions...I'm not lazy...I truly love things to be orderly and neat...I do not just wait around for someone else to do the work for me (although, I wouldn't stop them if they did!)...and I actually enjoy the domesticity that comes with being a housewife.
It's not always this way. Sometimes I tornado through the house and have everything spit-spot within a few hours. I wonder why I can do that some days and other days it just seems impossible.
I like knowing why. I like understanding. I research. For those of you who follow the religion of the Myers-Briggs Put-Me-In-A-Box Stereotype, I am a "Super Feeler." I am an IF. This means I have no problem waiting until the last minute to do things and in fact often do a better job when I DO wait. I work very well under pressure and often require a deadline to motivate me to do anything. I am more apt to sit and read than to follow a to-do list. You get the idea.
For those of you who know about the wonders of Blood-Type...I am type A. This means that I do not require intense exercise to stay fit. I can drink all the coffee I want. I don't prefer meat but can pretty much eat all the time. I am sedentary (not lazy) which means I require a lot "down-time". I love being around people but often require sleep after having an intense crowd around me. I enjoy going out and socializing, if I'm able to come home and just sit afterward. I can never have too much sleep. In fact, I need all I can get.
So...having told you all of that, I'm wondering where discipline fits in. How it fits in. I realize it starts in my mind. I also realize that I've conditioned myself to believe that a "good" housewife keeps a clean house all the time; is tireless and organized; is always prepared for company; still has time and energy to do all of the out-of-the-house stuff; takes a shower every day; always has time to sit in her clean house and read or sew or whatever. That sounds ridiculous when I type it out like that. But it's what I feel deep inside.
It's why I feel less-than when my house gets overwhelming, like it is now. Maybe it's not so much that I need discipline; afterall, I do the work and I do it with my family as a priority (i.e., I sort through the mountains of laundry to get the basketball uniforms, underwear, favorite jeans, etc...washed!). Maybe what I need is a new way of defining housewife. Maybe I need to be proud of myself when all of my children can go to bed (can GET to their beds) with full tummies and a content smile. Maybe I should always strive for excellence but remember that I am excellent regardless of my have-done list.
Hmm. Perhaps I will now get up and wash something. Maybe.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
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.
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.
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The Fabulous Five
We strive to make memories that will always lead us into the Light
