AB

This blog comes with a warning label… You may be surprised… You may be offended… You may think I’m a kook…. I’m ok with that. This is my journey and this is one of the roads on my map. I hope you still continue to travel with me even after reading.

Addict
–noun
1. a person who is addicted to an activity, habit, or substance.

I mentioned earlier this week in a facebook update that I was embarrassed about my love for shows like “Intervention” and “Celebrity Rehab”.

I’m taking that comment back.

Sure those shows are made for television and have an unnecessary element of drama added, but I believe the essence of the shows themselves are real. I believe that even if we think we are nothing like the addicts portrayed on these shows, the truth is much more disturbing. The truth is any of us has the potential to cross that imaginary line that separates “us” from “them”.  The invisible point of no return.

I know a tiny bit of what it feels like to be addicted to a medication. I know how blurry the imaginary line becomes at 2 am when the only thing standing between you and the tiny pill in a bottle is sheer will and determination not to have to go through another agonizing 24 hours of withdrawal again. I know what it’s like to tremor and cry. I know the helplessness and hopelessness it can cause. I know how tantalizing the thought of escape can become. Surprised? Don’t be. There are lots of us out there… and we don’t have track marks, bleeding noses and hollow eyes.

Years ago when I was diagnosed with Meneire’s, my world was rocked. At the same time we were learning how difficult it was going to be for us to have a child. Little blocks here and there. They kept piling up on my shoulders until finally the burden became too much to carry. I hid for weeks. I cried. I sat alone in the dark. I did not want to go on in this life.

Thank God for medication. I am not being sarcastic when I say that. At that time in my life, if not for antidepressants, I probably wouldn’t be here today. Wow it breaks my heart to write that. It seems more like something lost in my past and yet I know you can never really forget how rock bottom feels.

Medication brought “me” back. It didn’t make me different or emotionless. It didn’t make me crazy. It didn’t make me happy all the time. In fact, most of you reading this will probably be surprised to learn I have traveled that path. Why? Because I look like you? Because I seem like I have it all together?   Looks can be quite deceiving.

After a few years, I started seeing a specialist for my Meneire’s. The first appointment was going to be a day’s worth of testing. In order for the tests to work properly, I couldn’t be on medication – no antidepressants and no anti-anxiety medicines.

The day before testing, I learned  a little of what it’s like to be a drug addict. I learned how one could become so desperate to escape the terror of withdrawal that they’d do almost anything to relieve that pain. It was the absolute worst night of my life and I will never, NEVER go through it again. As I watch addicts struggle to find their way back, I can’t imagine how difficult it must be. I was on medication under my physicians care… how much more terrible a true drug addiction must be. I have the utmost respect and admiration for anyone who can walk through that particular hell and come out on the other side in one piece. They may be cowards in their addiction and horrible in the things they do in order to keep going, but how courageous they are if they manage to overcome it.

I’ve recently begun to taper down all of the medicines I’m currently taking. It is definitely no party… more like a circus filled with evil clowns. If you’ve been where I’m standing traveling, then you can understand. There is a great deal of fear. There are bad days and good days. There are ups and downs. But I push forward – moving closer towards finding out what it feels like not to rely on medications.

Will I make it? I’d have to say that’s undecided. Maybe my ear will balance itself out (no pun intended). Or possibly, I will be no different than a diabetic who requires insulin to maintain a normal blood sugar, and I’ll need to take some medications for a while longer, if not forever. If so, I’m ok with that. At least I tried. At least I fought my own demons, and win or lose, that’s a little victory in itself.

Where am I going with all of this?

Maybe next time I tune into “Intervention” in lieu of “American Idol”, I won’t feel so ashamed. I’ll wait for that point just before the credits roll where they say … Gail made it through treatment… Parker relapsed but went back into rehab… Nathan has been sober since December 2009…

Silently I will cheer for them and pray they continue to fight. All the while knowing, there is such a fine line between “us” and “them”.

Truth…  I only thought 3 or 4 people read my blog.

After the past few posts, I have been overwhelmed at the comments, emails and kind words I’ve received.  As busy as we all get, to think you took the time to read my words is very touching.  So before I forget, many thanks to each of you.  You are all very dear to me and I wish each of you much happiness and many blessings.

You guys are grawesome (great + awesome = grawesome).  Thanks again.

I think one of the most painful lessons we are forced to learn in life is that no matter how hard we fight, we are going to lose some people we love.

Maybe it’s a friend who moved away.

Maybe it’s a relationship that came to an unexpected end.

Maybe it’s someone you adored who passed on to a better place.

However the loss occurs, it often leaves a hole in your heart.  Their spot is unfillable.  Their memory is sometimes unforgiving.  But there is one place where we can feel them again.  A place where we can hold their hand.  Embrace them.  Show them the love which has no outlet in their absence.

Dreams.

I adore dreaming of people I love but have somehow lost.  In that moment of unconciousness, they are just as real as they were when they filled your heart in person.

Today I heard a song for the first time that made me think of those dreams.  You know – the ones you wish would go on a little longer.  The ones that somehow make you feel a little more “whole” again.  The ones that leave you with a smile and a heartache as the morning sun hits your eyes.

Sunlight have a heart… leave me in the dark… a little longer…

Press play below to listen.  I hope you enjoy as much as I have.

Some days she struggles to keep things together.

Patience is a virtue but time knows nothing of the sort.

Time will soon become her enemy.

Her faith is strong but tested often.

On her knees at night she quietly whispers to God, “I thought I passed the last test. Why me again? I trust You have a plan, but it is difficult to wait.”

The tests are wearing her down. Like the waves eat away at a sandy beach, each disappointment carries another part of her away into the ocean.

Today she noticed broken glass at her feet.  As she looked around she realized it was surrounding her.

Shattered pieces of  broken glass.

Shattered, broken dreams.

All the shards begin to frighten her. How can she possibly move forward and not get hurt?

She only sees the jagged pieces through her eyes…

When others look at all these fragments of glass, they see a mosaic.  All parts that on their own are incomparable to the picture as a whole.

Each shard has its own story… its own special place… but until it is seen through the eyes of others or from farther away, it is only a piece of something much larger.

Soon she’ll see the mosaic. She will find her way through the shattered and broken pieces.

She’ll step back and see the beauty in the journey.

She will see each piece was necessary to create the mosaic.

She’ll see it’s all part of who she was meant to be.

Beautiful. Content. Whole.

It’s a baby boom around here these days!

First – today we finally welcomed precious Avery into this world. She is just as beautiful as her mommy and already seems to be quietly pondering things like her daddy. Perfection in it’s finest form.

Second – I’m going to be an aunt in September! Whew. More on that coming soon.

Many of you are well versed in my struggle to become a mommy myself. If I’m being completely honest, the heart on my sleeve is becoming a little heavy these days. It’s difficult to explain if you haven’t worn this particular pair of shoes.

This pair starts out shiny and new. With each passing month you notice a few more scuffs. As the months turn to years, the tears begin to rain down and turn the ground around you into mud.

Muddy shoes.

Muddy soles.

Muddy soul.

How do you explain to someone who has never been there how something can cause a joyful pain? How can you explain what it feels like to be thrilled at the news of a new baby, but also feel a tiny pang of something you can’t identify? Jealousy? Probably. Sadness? A little. Emotions? A whole lot of them.

My defense is to run and hide. Notice the lack of blog entries this year? I’ve been trying to keep you from seeing the paint on my sleeve… the samples of color I used to try and match the original red heart that lives there. I’m embarrassed by my muddy shoes.

Today two tiny people reached over and touched my heart.

I stood alone and watched Avery as she slept in the nursery for a while – the wonder of this new little life. Then they brought her to Jessica for the first time after being taken back for a bath and checkups. She used the words “my baby” and I wondered how it must feel. What’s it like to know that is YOUR baby? What’s it like to be able to say, “It’s ok, mommy will make it better.”?

Shoes feel wet. I smell the familiar smell of paint.

Then something magical happened.

I looked at Avery and began to fall in love. Callie must have noticed because she looked over at me and from nowhere her sweet little voice said – “You’re my Nanny.” Pause. “And you’re good.”

At the moment it was funny – oh look Callie is jealous someone might take her place. But now as I look back, she was saving me. Really she was saying – “Nanny, you might not be a mommy but you are my Nanny and that’s important. I need you. You are special to me. I love you and these other babies love you too. We’re here to hold on to you until your time comes around.”

Those two tiny hearts reached out to mine and reminded me that although I don’t have a baby of my own, I have them to love. I have Callie. Lily. Avery. Livy. Carson. All blessings God has placed in my life so I have somewhere to put this love until my turn comes around. A special blessing in it’s own right.

A tiny hand reaches up and wipes the paint from my sleeve. Another one shows me a new pair of shoes. I smile and know I’ll be holding those tiny hands for many years to come and I am content.

Avery Grace is here!  Mommy and baby are doing great.  Praises for such a beautiful gift from Above!

Embedding has been disabled on this one, but it’s completely worth the jump…

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugV6gcXGPwk

1699

Flying Pigs

Joyful Pangs

Season Premieres

Sweet New Blessings

My aunt told me a story once. It was a little pearl of wisdom one of her friends shared with her. She never forgot it. Neither have I.

I’m pretty open on my blog about most things in my life – good and bad. But some people don’t wear their heart on their sleeve. They keep it guarded -hidden away – locked down with bolts. Nothing wrong with that since we are all wired differently. The problem arises when I forget that just because I don’t see the shiny heart shaped badge on their arm, that that doesn’t mean there isn’t something going on.

Reminded me of my aunt’s story…

Pretend you’re standing in a circle with some of your friends and acquaintances. Every person has a paper bag in their hands. Tucked away, or where necessary, crammed into each person’s bag is all of their problems. The ones you see, and more importantly the ones you don’t. Some bags are tear stained. Some are hot and angry. Some are just filled with broken pieces, promises and dreams. Since you can’t see inside, you have no way of knowing what’s really in each of them.

Now decide.

Do you want to trade your paper bag for somebody else’s? Do you want to take that chance? Or is it easier to keep your bag because at least then you know what you have to deal with?

I think most of us would grip tightly to our own bags. It’s harder to deal with the unknown.

I’m going to try and be more aware of that ambiguous “unknown”. I’m going to remind myself that other people’s paper bags are just as heavy and burdensome as mine. It teaches me patience, understanding and empathy. It reminds me we are all fighting silent battles. We are all human.

Been spinning this one for a few days thanks to Sonny. I love it.