I recently had a birthday and am now officially 37 years old. There’s some type of reflection that usually comes with a birthday, major holiday, or bringing in the new year. The famous question will somehow pop into your mind. Am I happy?
I really thought about that this year. Am I happy turned into am I fulfilled, am I where I’m supposed to be in life, am I doing enough, am I making a difference?? It’s not just simply one question, in fact it’s so much more than that.
I attempted to make a mental listing of all my current life points.
I love my children more than anything in the world, but they also drive me crazier than anything in the world.
I enjoy spending time with friends laughing and talking, but I secretly want to hide in social situations because my anxiety is soaring.
I crave traveling, taking new adventures, but I also constantly think there’s 18,000 things I could be accomplishing if I stayed home.
I think my relationship and communication with my husband is strong, but some days I wonder if our children are the glue that hold us together.
I am blessed to be a SAHM and have a hands on full time experience raising my children and keeping a home, but I also crave purpose and miss the fulfillment of a career.
I live to volunteer, it’s the air that I breathe, but volunteering means missing out on the fun aspect of the experience sometimes.
There are so many contradicting thoughts here. So many questions that I cannot define with an answer, and that is a struggle for me. You hear people say things simply aren’t black and white, learn to relax, go with the flow! I crave answers, direction, a sign as to which way to go. I guess you could say that is what faith is, but even that comes with a laundry list of questions.
Who knew at 37 years of age the true question to life would arise - what is the balance? What is the balance between the positive and the negative, the happy and sad, the sweet and the sour, the experience and the introvert, your past, future, and right now? How can we manage to in a sense “do it all” and make life amazing? Perhaps I just need to fast forward to 38 and call it a wash!
Pondering life’s hard questions.....
Until next time...
Sara
Tuesday, November 5, 2019
Sunday, July 7, 2019
My darkest past
My entire world was shook yesterday, and not in a way you’d think. If you’ve read my past blogs you know my basic relationship history, John and I were married, divorced, and remarried. I was unfaithful and it isn’t something that I discuss with hardly anyone. It’s a blur on my relationship rap sheet so to speak. The time in my life that I continue to be ashamed of and cannot allow myself to be forgiven for. Trust me, both of my therapists have tried their hardest to get me to let go of that time that I keep permanently closed.
Yesterday was a wonderful day. The kids and I continued to celebrate the 4th of July with another parade and then a Duluth Huskies game. Side note - my children are not old enough or patient enough to watch a baseball game yet. Everything was going great until I was taking in the crowd and saw him, or someone I thought was him. Him being the man that wrecked part of my spirit and continues to do so. I wasn’t sure it was him, but it was enough to make the pit of my stomach fall through the floor. It was one of those moments where you don’t want to look, but fear keeps you glancing and holding your breath waiting for that confirmation that you feared all along. Indeed, it was him. I had to resist the extremely strong urge to bolt and flee from the situation because I was with my children who were at that point still enjoying the game. My thoughts were swirling, and just like that 15 year old memories came flooding back.
The man that I shamefully had an affair with 15 years ago still had the ability to control my thoughts, and I was experiencing the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime surrounded by my babies.
Let’s backup a little bit. Rewind 15 years, bleh my entire body just shivered, when a young couple was going through some rough times. They worked opposite schedules, had debt up to their eyeballs, and I’ll be honest I was simply not ready for forever. My feelings toward relationships were messed up. In the past I had set myself up to never get hurt, and to bail at any sign of distress. I began working more and more and I shared my emotions and feelings with someone other than my husband, it took its toll on our marriage. I was stubborn and wouldn’t let anyone tell me my next move, in fact I was fully confident that our marriage was over and nothing would convince me otherwise.
Enter the dark cloud in my life, the grass I thought was greener, but in looking back it was in fact black. In the beginning things were the same as any new relationship, but it didn’t take long for that relationship to become a dominant one. I was told on a daily basis that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, strong enough, lovable enough, the list goes on and on. I allowed myself to be bullied into a new version of me, one that became withdrawn, unhappy, and refused to see what it really was, a prison. I was on a fast track to depression and loneliness. I would sit for hours at his apartment waiting for him to come home because I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him. He wouldn’t buy groceries or pay for anything, and with my minimal income I couldn’t hardly make ends meet. I’m ashamed to admit that John bailed me out more than once during those times simply so I could buy food or pay my rent. His nickname for me was pooper, and he called me that as much and as often as he could. To this day I still can’t call anyone by a nickname, it races me back to those disgusting times.
I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face. I was the one in a relationship with an abuser. I had convinced myself that I was worthless and every step I had taken, every moment I was living was my punishment for hurting John and walking out in my marriage. I had made my bed, and now I was forced to sleep in it. He alienated me from my family and friends, so much so that he had to be sitting next to me while I talked to them on the phone. He would check my phone history, my text messages, and would call my work to make sure I was really there. The entire experience was one of those nightmares you hear about in the news or the subject of a Lifetime movie. He was never physically abusive, but I can guarantee at some point it would’ve gotten to that point.
Getting out of that relationship was scarier than being in it. I was afraid of what he might do, if he would physically hurt me, kill my dogs, or even kill me. I remember sitting on the couch at his apartment the very last time while he hurled insult after insult, telling me I was disgusting and that no man would ever want me again. For weeks later he continued to call me pretending to be nice until I didn’t play along and the insults and hatred would surface once again.
It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life, but I got out.
So you see there’s a reason why even 15 years later the sight of him brings me right back to those dark days. Emotionally he scarred me, and I’ll carry those awful memories with me for the rest of my life. No matter how much I try to erase them, they are still there. While all this was happening I was surrounded by people angry that I had given up on John, they would say I got what I deserved because I they could clearly see I was unhappy. I don’t care who you are or what you think someone’s story is, they never deserve to be treated the way I was.
If you’re in an abusive relationship, physical, verbal, financial, controlling, if you’re unhappy - leave. I know your fears. What if I can’t do it, how will I survive, who will love me? Trust in yourself, love yourself, and lean on others to carry you through. You’re not alone, and you deserve to be happy and healthy. Find your happiness.
Until next time.....
Sara
Yesterday was a wonderful day. The kids and I continued to celebrate the 4th of July with another parade and then a Duluth Huskies game. Side note - my children are not old enough or patient enough to watch a baseball game yet. Everything was going great until I was taking in the crowd and saw him, or someone I thought was him. Him being the man that wrecked part of my spirit and continues to do so. I wasn’t sure it was him, but it was enough to make the pit of my stomach fall through the floor. It was one of those moments where you don’t want to look, but fear keeps you glancing and holding your breath waiting for that confirmation that you feared all along. Indeed, it was him. I had to resist the extremely strong urge to bolt and flee from the situation because I was with my children who were at that point still enjoying the game. My thoughts were swirling, and just like that 15 year old memories came flooding back.
The man that I shamefully had an affair with 15 years ago still had the ability to control my thoughts, and I was experiencing the emotional rollercoaster of a lifetime surrounded by my babies.
Let’s backup a little bit. Rewind 15 years, bleh my entire body just shivered, when a young couple was going through some rough times. They worked opposite schedules, had debt up to their eyeballs, and I’ll be honest I was simply not ready for forever. My feelings toward relationships were messed up. In the past I had set myself up to never get hurt, and to bail at any sign of distress. I began working more and more and I shared my emotions and feelings with someone other than my husband, it took its toll on our marriage. I was stubborn and wouldn’t let anyone tell me my next move, in fact I was fully confident that our marriage was over and nothing would convince me otherwise.
Enter the dark cloud in my life, the grass I thought was greener, but in looking back it was in fact black. In the beginning things were the same as any new relationship, but it didn’t take long for that relationship to become a dominant one. I was told on a daily basis that I wasn’t good enough, smart enough, strong enough, lovable enough, the list goes on and on. I allowed myself to be bullied into a new version of me, one that became withdrawn, unhappy, and refused to see what it really was, a prison. I was on a fast track to depression and loneliness. I would sit for hours at his apartment waiting for him to come home because I wasn’t allowed to go anywhere without him. He wouldn’t buy groceries or pay for anything, and with my minimal income I couldn’t hardly make ends meet. I’m ashamed to admit that John bailed me out more than once during those times simply so I could buy food or pay my rent. His nickname for me was pooper, and he called me that as much and as often as he could. To this day I still can’t call anyone by a nickname, it races me back to those disgusting times.
I couldn’t see what was right in front of my face. I was the one in a relationship with an abuser. I had convinced myself that I was worthless and every step I had taken, every moment I was living was my punishment for hurting John and walking out in my marriage. I had made my bed, and now I was forced to sleep in it. He alienated me from my family and friends, so much so that he had to be sitting next to me while I talked to them on the phone. He would check my phone history, my text messages, and would call my work to make sure I was really there. The entire experience was one of those nightmares you hear about in the news or the subject of a Lifetime movie. He was never physically abusive, but I can guarantee at some point it would’ve gotten to that point.
Getting out of that relationship was scarier than being in it. I was afraid of what he might do, if he would physically hurt me, kill my dogs, or even kill me. I remember sitting on the couch at his apartment the very last time while he hurled insult after insult, telling me I was disgusting and that no man would ever want me again. For weeks later he continued to call me pretending to be nice until I didn’t play along and the insults and hatred would surface once again.
It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my entire life, but I got out.
So you see there’s a reason why even 15 years later the sight of him brings me right back to those dark days. Emotionally he scarred me, and I’ll carry those awful memories with me for the rest of my life. No matter how much I try to erase them, they are still there. While all this was happening I was surrounded by people angry that I had given up on John, they would say I got what I deserved because I they could clearly see I was unhappy. I don’t care who you are or what you think someone’s story is, they never deserve to be treated the way I was.
If you’re in an abusive relationship, physical, verbal, financial, controlling, if you’re unhappy - leave. I know your fears. What if I can’t do it, how will I survive, who will love me? Trust in yourself, love yourself, and lean on others to carry you through. You’re not alone, and you deserve to be happy and healthy. Find your happiness.
Until next time.....
Sara
Monday, February 4, 2019
You can't make me love Jesus
Growing up I was raised Catholic. We attended mass every Sunday, sat in the very front row, and I went to Sunday school preschool - 11th grade. Now if you ask me about it I'll tell you the flat out truth - I hated every single second. There were a few moments of happiness - being in the church choir with my mom, being in the youth choir, doughnut Sunday, but there were also the moments that were unbearable. Like when I was shamed to tears because I couldn't memorize prayers, when we would take tests and I would completely fail, or the fact that I missed out on family time at my grandparents because I was at Sunday school. As soon as I graduated high school I knew I'd never go back, that was until I met John.
John and I attended the required pre-marriage counseling sessions and took the marriage test. I know you're be shocked to learn that we failed. We didn't just fail by a small percentage, we bombed that test and had the lowest score ever recorded. John and I didn't fit into that perfect Catholic box. When the priest asked us how many children we planned on having, we responded with 2 or 3. Apparently that also wasn't fitting into that perfect box, and he tried his best to sign us up for natural family planning classes. I was 20 years old. At that point in my life I had zero desire to have children, heck we didn't even have full time jobs at that point! How would we even begin to raise a child?
After we were married I closed the door on religion and never looked back. It was my time to rebel against the world that I was forced to assimilate to. I knew what I believed in, and I knew that my beliefs did not fit into the Catholic world. My future path was fuzzy, and I had no idea where it would lead me.
Cue the divorce. Yep the divorce. See that piece to the puzzle plays an instrumental role in my life. After the divorce, with a little encouragement from a good friend, I went to church. It wasn't a Catholic church, but Methodist. It was there that I could feel my inner spirit begin to shine because I had finally realized I didn't have to believe everything that was set before me. If I didn't agree with the teachings it was accepted, because nobody was forcing me to believe. Abby was baptized at this church, and I will forever be grateful for the memories that I have of those times.
From there I went to Lutheran church and spent a few years enjoying getting back to my true love - singing. I had lost so much of myself during the separation and divorce and this church was where I rediscovered my love of music. Wyatt was baptized at this church, and I can't tell you how happy of a day that was.
At this time in my life I knew I needed to find something that encouraged that music spark just a little bit more. The next church really was nothing like anything I had ever attended before. Hands in the air, contemporary music, coffee, fellowship, volunteering, a nursery? I absolutely loved it. This church was the one I attended for the shortest amount of time, but I knew that I had to find something that was a balance between this and the Lutheran faith. So what did I do at this point? I quit going to church.
Wait, quit going to church? That's absolutely right, I quit going. I needed to take a step back and realize what I needed and what I was looking for. Remember at this time in my life I had two little kids and a husband that still doesn't believe in any type of organized religion. Life was busy.
Then Deacon was born and was baptized in our backyard in a beautiful ceremony by a family friend. It was the push I needed to get back to church. This time going back was a struggle. I was suffering through PPD after having Deacon, and I wasn't comfortable in my own community. I had no desire at this point in my life to "go out and meet the people." But even with all that hesitation I put on my brave face and hauled my baby to church.
This is the moment of the story when you begin the happy music. You see I walked into Zion and my life has truly never been the same since. I was welcomed with open arms, and I felt safe. I instantly knew there was no box here, I would be accepted, loved, and appreciated. Zion was the total package - contemporary music, coffee, Sunday school, opportunities to volunteer, people that cared not only about me but about my children, and just an overall feeling of love and acceptance. Most people go to church for the message, the religious aspect, I go for the feeling of community. All that Jesus stuff in my eyes is simply a bonus. I still know what I believe in and don't, and I know it's accepted. I am by no means a perfect person, I yell at my kids, I swear like a sailor, I struggle with anxiety, and I insert my foot in my mouth so quick sometimes it makes my own skin crawl. But despite all those flaws and more, I know Jesus loves me and accepts me. I know that despite my life choices, or how down in the dumps I can feel, Jesus loves and accepts me. At the end of the day you can't make me love Jesus, but when I'm ready he'll be there for me and has been every single step of my journey.
- until next time....
Sara
Thursday, November 8, 2018
The story of us....
Here we are, aww so cute and adorable. A vacation without the kids, how I dream of that this very moment! It was an amazing trip filled with excitement, love, devotion, intimate conversations, and celebration of simply us.
But life wasn't always this way. In fact we've taken quite the journey to get here.
So settle in, grab a snack, and take a potty break before you start. Because this is the only time I'll tell this story - the story of us.
In order for this to start, we need to rewind. For those of you that don't remember what a VHS tape is, call your mom, she'll clue you in. It was the summer after I graduated, 2001. My mom had received a trip to Canada through work where they would celebrate her years of service. She took me on that celebration trip, just the two of us, no brothers tagging along, it was glorious! We saw stunning views, traveled from city to city, and ended up at the hotel where the awards dinner would take place. The morning of the award dinner, we headed down to the hotel salon where to this day I still say the lady gave me the worst beehive updo I have ever seen. In the middle of the dinner, my mom ran out of film for her camera. (While you're asking your mom what a VHS tape is, ask her what camera film is used for too. Or how she'd take 18 rolls and 6 of those rolls would have her finger in the shot.) She asked me to run up to the room and get a few more rolls. As I stood waiting for the elevator, I had no idea my life was about to take a completely new journey. The elevator doors opened, and there he stood. I'd like to say there was a spotlight behind him, wind blowing through his hair, he got down on one knee and knew that I was the one. Whoa, get out of that cheesy romance novel people! There he was, in sweatpants, sweatshirt, and old school headphones. By the way, the same trip that my mom and I were on, John's dad was also there to celebrate his years of service, and they had turned their entire trip into a family vacation. I had spied on their family a few times watching them load and unload their massive amount of luggage, but we never really crossed paths. Back to the elevator. Minimal conversation was had and I walked off to the room to get my film. Sorry to burst your romance bubble!
About a week or so after we returned from the trip I had received an email. It read something like - "you may not remember me, but we met in Canada. Would you be interested in hanging out sometime?" He had literally stalked me until he found my email address. Now remember we're talking circa 2001, before the days of Facebook, right in the middle of the AOL instant messenger era. (Yep, might as well start a list of things to ask your mom.) At the time I had a boyfriend, but John and I became friends, and we would spend hours after everyone had gone to bed for the night talking to each other. (Because only then could you tie up the phone line with the Internet. Yup, write that down too.)
Around August we began dating. We went to the worst movie ever - A.I. on our first date. Seriously the WORST movie of all time. I was instantly head over heels in love with him. Everything about him was perfect - he was my protector, he treated me like a princess, and I knew we were meant to be together.
Fast forward to November 8, 2003, the day we were married. I was 21 and he was 23. It was an absolutely gorgeous November day. No snow, the sun was shining, and we promised our hearts to each other forever. We surprised everyone by singing during our own ceremony. Yep, there's video evidence in our basement of John's one and only debut solo performance. The things you do for love right? We moved into an apartment and our magical journey together began. Except life together wasn't like it was on TV and in the movies. We worked opposite shifts so we never saw each other, adjusting to living with a spouse and learning/tolerating their habits was bumpy, and we were head over heels in debt and financial strain due to stupid youth choices. The resentment began. Communication from my end, which was already a struggle, shut down completely. We were the first of all our friends to get married, and there was no road map on how to travel this journey called marriage.
A little over a year later, when all our baggage had piled up and couldn't be sorted, we decided to separate. The icing on the cake to the whole situation was me being unfaithful. There are no excuses, no reasoning, no justification, I was unfaithful to the man I had promised my life to. We eventually divorced, and the day I received the finalization papers in the mail, I knew I had made the biggest mistake of my entire life. I had now created this situation and I was stuck with my consequences. The new relationship I was in was toxic. He was verbally abusive, kept me away from my family, friends weren't even allowed to be discussed let alone seen, and he was controlling. He killed my self esteem, made me think I was worthless, and belittled me every single moment possible. It. Was. Toxic. I have no doubt that the verbal abuse would have eventually turned into physical abuse.
Somehow through all of this I continued to church hop. I no longer felt comfortable in the Catholic church, so I hopped around and eventually landed in the church that my daughter would eventually be baptized in. The pastor made me feel at ease, like I could tell her all my troubles and she would magically make them all go away. Something in me knew that I needed to seek council with her, to try to help create a life with these miserable choices I had made. We did meet, and I brought my story in, all of it. All the hurt, all the hatred, all the bad moments, the good, everything that had led me to that moment. I'll never forget meeting with her, she changed my life. She didn't use these exact words, but she said if you're not happy, change it. If you're not on a righteous path, create a new one. And if you're still in love with your husband, then go back to him. She knew exactly what to say and how to get my stubbornness to listen to her guidance. I knew that I had to get John back, and I would fight for him forever.
Trust me when I say, it was not easy to get him back. He was hurt, understandably so, and I'm sure he suspected I had some type of hidden agenda. Let me be clear, our separation, our divorce, was all lead by me. I had zero interest in couples counseling, and from the beginning I was in self destruct mode on our marriage succeeding. So his hesitation to trust me again, to let himself be subject to the possibility that love would shatter his world all over again, was warranted.
I refocused my intentions. If communication was our downfall in our previous relationship, then communication would be moved to the head of the line. We talked about everything, and I mean everything. He knew everything that happened in the past, details from when we weren't together, and things that happened 2 minutes ago. This new focus was all new to me, and even though it was hard I pushed through. If you know me really well, you'll know that sharing my feelings and my past is not my strong point. I brush things off and say it's a story for another day and move on. I don't share my mistakes that I'm ashamed of. In fact, I would love to be able to erase that large part of my past and just connect the good dots together. But, without those ugly dots and dots I'm ashamed of, there would be no us.
After a little over a year apart, we decided to give it another try. We moved in together and promised a fresh start, a new beginning, and a positive change. From there we had our same growing pains like everyone else does. We would take each other for granted, have a big yelling and ugly cry session and work it out. It's not always pretty, and I still struggle in the communication department, but we would express all our fears and figure out where to go from there.
We remarried in 2009 when I was pregnant with Abby, but had been back together for a little over 4 years at that point. After all our struggles and challenges, I can honestly admit I never wanted children. I was afraid that this relationship that we had reformed would be too challenged with the addition of a child. The possibility that I would lose him all over again scared me to death. John assured me that we'd be just fine and Abby was born, followed by Wyatt and Deacon. Each year brings a new season to our lives. While we still rarely see each other, when we do we try our best to make it positive. Alright here's the real deal, we have 3 kids, our house is constant chaos, John works opposite shifts of our schedules, and I run this house 90% of the time. There it is, the cold hard facts.
John and I continue to attend marriage counseling. We've had major hurdles in our relationship people, we should be going right? Actually, I really encourage everyone to find a couples therapist and visit them as often as possible. Our first appointment I hauled in every issue we've ever had. I'm a list maker people, he knew I would be over packing for our appointment. Our therapist has been able to point out things that would make us stronger, she listens, she makes suggestions, and she encourages us to be better for each other.
So there it is. The very limited version of our story. When I say limited I mean the cleanest version I can create, because let's be honest people, my grandma reads this stuff.
Moral of the story, things I learned, my takeaway? Don't be so quick to give up. Do the work, it is worth it. Without all those struggles, bumps, learning moments I wouldn't be where I am today, and I wouldn't have a husband and the three babies we created. All the struggle is worth it, just hang on tight!
until next time...
Sara
Monday, October 29, 2018
Why did I signup for snack???
There it was, the dreaded sign up sheet for snack. The sheet that told all the other parents that you were a responsible and organized parent who could handle bringing snacks for 25 kids.
But as I looked closer written on the bottom of the sheet, I saw it - nut allergy, please make sure all snacks are nut free.
Insert panic mode here.
Now let me explain myself. John and I have 3 children that have zero food or environmental allergies. Wyatt went through a stage where we thought he may have a gluten allergy, so I switched the entire house to gluten free. It was a huge challenge reading nutrition labels, creating meal plans, and a HUGE hit to our grocery bill. After a month of this experience and no results, I was so thankful that we were able to head back to our normal routine.
You see allergies scare me to death. I'm afraid that while your child is in my care they will have an extreme allergic reaction, go into anaphylactic shock, and, well you know the rest. I go to that place immediately when I'm around anyone with an allergy.
So when that allergy warning comes out, I panic. I worry that I - the uneducated parent on allergies and how to respond in a crisis, the one who will unknowingly donate Oreos that have some secret hidden seafood ingredient in them, will cause you to turn purple and keel over.
I have friends and family that have allergies, lots in fact. You would think that this would make my anxiety and extreme thinking lower in these situations. News flash - not at all. I even watched a friends kids that have allergies overnight. She had labeled all the medications and calmly explained what each one was for, when to take them, what to do in an emergency. I listened to her instructions so carefully that I could've repeated them verbatim. I had complete confidence that I had the situation under control and a handle on everything. I was prepared and ready to handle any emergency if it arose. Then she walked out the door and took my confidence with her.
I remember when Abby was playing soccer we had to bring a snack for after games and practice. One of the moms mentioned they were gluten free and she was talking to her friends about what they could and couldn't eat. I shuffled over and inserted myself into their conversation in order to learn more. Was I supposed to bring a gluten free snack? Would that kid be hunched over gripping their stomach because I had supplied a snack completely packed with something I knew nothing about? As I asked her questions, she turned up her nose and glared at me like I was an outcast. I left that day feeling foolish and even more confused of my future snack choices.
If you have an allergy, or a health condition that people should know about, please do me one favor - tell people. Don't act like it is an inconvenience for people, don't brush it off like it's no big deal - tell people. Educate people until you're purple in the face. Tell people what will happen if you eat seafood or grapes, if a cat makes a bed in your jacket, or you get stung by a bee when you're out on a bike ride.
Listen, I know sometimes telling people is annoying. People don't listen, you've told them 10,000 times, you just don't want to be a bother, or think you can just tell your kid to be careful. Here's the deal though - if something happens to you, people are at least going to know that you need an epi pen, a shot of insulin, a hard candy, an aspirin, CPR, or whatever it takes to get YOU back. Give us a chance, a little faith, and a whole bunch of knowledge on you. Because last time I checked, nobody knows you better than you, and nobody can educate others on you like you can.
Be confident in writing your name on that sign up sheet!
until next time...
Sara
But as I looked closer written on the bottom of the sheet, I saw it - nut allergy, please make sure all snacks are nut free.
Insert panic mode here.
Now let me explain myself. John and I have 3 children that have zero food or environmental allergies. Wyatt went through a stage where we thought he may have a gluten allergy, so I switched the entire house to gluten free. It was a huge challenge reading nutrition labels, creating meal plans, and a HUGE hit to our grocery bill. After a month of this experience and no results, I was so thankful that we were able to head back to our normal routine.
You see allergies scare me to death. I'm afraid that while your child is in my care they will have an extreme allergic reaction, go into anaphylactic shock, and, well you know the rest. I go to that place immediately when I'm around anyone with an allergy.
So when that allergy warning comes out, I panic. I worry that I - the uneducated parent on allergies and how to respond in a crisis, the one who will unknowingly donate Oreos that have some secret hidden seafood ingredient in them, will cause you to turn purple and keel over.
I have friends and family that have allergies, lots in fact. You would think that this would make my anxiety and extreme thinking lower in these situations. News flash - not at all. I even watched a friends kids that have allergies overnight. She had labeled all the medications and calmly explained what each one was for, when to take them, what to do in an emergency. I listened to her instructions so carefully that I could've repeated them verbatim. I had complete confidence that I had the situation under control and a handle on everything. I was prepared and ready to handle any emergency if it arose. Then she walked out the door and took my confidence with her.
I remember when Abby was playing soccer we had to bring a snack for after games and practice. One of the moms mentioned they were gluten free and she was talking to her friends about what they could and couldn't eat. I shuffled over and inserted myself into their conversation in order to learn more. Was I supposed to bring a gluten free snack? Would that kid be hunched over gripping their stomach because I had supplied a snack completely packed with something I knew nothing about? As I asked her questions, she turned up her nose and glared at me like I was an outcast. I left that day feeling foolish and even more confused of my future snack choices.
If you have an allergy, or a health condition that people should know about, please do me one favor - tell people. Don't act like it is an inconvenience for people, don't brush it off like it's no big deal - tell people. Educate people until you're purple in the face. Tell people what will happen if you eat seafood or grapes, if a cat makes a bed in your jacket, or you get stung by a bee when you're out on a bike ride.
Listen, I know sometimes telling people is annoying. People don't listen, you've told them 10,000 times, you just don't want to be a bother, or think you can just tell your kid to be careful. Here's the deal though - if something happens to you, people are at least going to know that you need an epi pen, a shot of insulin, a hard candy, an aspirin, CPR, or whatever it takes to get YOU back. Give us a chance, a little faith, and a whole bunch of knowledge on you. Because last time I checked, nobody knows you better than you, and nobody can educate others on you like you can.
Be confident in writing your name on that sign up sheet!
until next time...
Sara
Tuesday, October 23, 2018
Yesterday I turned 36....I think
Since before I can remember my grandparents have always told me to slow down. My grandpa especially, encourages me to stop and smell the roses, slow down, enjoy life instead of always leading the pack. I always respond with a quick "I'll sleep when I'm dead." Which, I find a ridiculous response because I can almost guarantee that in my next life if there is a committee to sign up for I'll be at the top of the list.
You see, I've always been an overachiever. In order to feel fulfilled I need to reach a new level of achievement. I need a purpose, a goal, an end result to keep pushing on. I'm the person that people see and instead of a greeting with hello, a smile is usually followed with "we were just talking about you" or "I was just thinking about you the other day," and a task at hand is their follow up. I'm a doer. I see it as a blessing and a curse.
My week of chaos began on Saturday, October 13th. A quick run up to my moms, Walmart (also I despise Walmart,) followed by a night at work. You see, I had promised to make signs for church, and true Sara style completely spaced being asked had to actually sit still and get them done. I should also mention now that all the days ahead also consisted of my normal routines, showering, getting the kids off to school, shakes, picking up the kids, dinner, and laundry, always SO much laundry.
On Sunday John and the boys headed out to the cabin for one final clean up while Abby and I went to church. I ended up doing something completely different with the signs, and my self diagnosed OCD was raging as I quickly drew things by hand. The rest of the day was filled with dropping Abby off at choir practice, and racing around to Kohl's, Target, and later Walmart again to find the rest of the items necessary for our Halloween costumes. A quick two hour evening with friends that night was my saving grace, after an afternoon with my daughter who continues to think she's 9 going on 19.
Monday John and I headed to couples therapy. Something I strongly encourage everyone to do. It has drastically changed our relationship for the better. Family photos followed which involved pulling the kids from school early (oh yes I did!) and racing out to Wisconsin Point. From there we went to bowl out, and I stayed with Deacon in the car while he napped. John and I had date night after that, and to be honest at this point I couldn't even tell you where we went.
Tuesday, now that was a day! In the shower that morning I realized I didn't have the tootsie rolls for popcorn day. Part of me thought, ah no biggie we'd skip them, but the overruling part of me said that I couldn't because the kids look forward to those every popcorn day. I left Deacon with John and raced to the school hoping by some miracle the tootsie roll fairy had dropped off a few bags while I was busy over thinking things. No such luck. Off to Super One we went to pickup 13 bags of tootsie rolls. 615 bags of popcorn later, that task was complete. I had just enough time to head home, load up the car and come back to the school for the variety show dress rehearsal.
Wednesday was picture retake day at the school. Deacon was my helpful assistant that day, and we knocked out all the retakes with Beth in about 2 hours. That afternoon we loaded up the car with all the supplies for the big show. The very first Great Lakes Variety Show was held that night. I can't even begin to tell you how proud I was of those kids. I was having proud mom moments the entire show for every single student watching them with tear filled eyes as they performed. It was clear every kiddo had put their fear in their pocket, marched right up to complete their talent, and beamed with pride. It was every bit as amazing as it sounds.
Thursday was when it all began to fall apart. Right away in the am with my trusty VP by my side, we counted and verified over $16,000.00 in incoming PTA funds. We had fundraisers overlapping that had brought in so much more than we ever imagined. Most of this money will go right back out in order to pay invoices for products, but it was a daunting and extremely stressful task. I can't even begin to express how amazed I am at how much our little school can do. When I dropped off the deposit I could feel that my stress level was reaching record levels. My mental checklist was growing shorter, but my stress and anxiety was climbing. Later that morning I went to get my hair done, and returned home feeling a tad strange. As I sat in the school pickup line I felt a huge wave of anxiety float over me. Then the dizzy spells began. My kids jumped in the car with their normal after school excitement, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to drive us the 4 blocks home. As the world was spinning, I had a death grip on the steering wheel hoping we'd make it home so I could go home and lay down. After a quick dinner I told the kids that I needed to lay down for a quick 20 minutes before we of course headed out to another planned activity. I took my power nap, woke feeling more centered and off to the church council meeting we went. As I sat in my meeting I could feel the waves of dizziness rolling in, but thankfully they went away for the drive home. That night the dizziness returned, and I had to sleep with one foot on the floor to center myself. I texted John that I felt terrible, like the world was in a constant spin, it literally felt like I had spent the day at the bar and was now dealing with my consequences.
When I awoke Friday it was gone again and I hoped it was gone for good. I left for scrap booking camp, a 2 hour drive away, that morning. About 30 minutes in, the dizziness returned. I figured out if I held my tongue to the roof of my mouth I could almost control it, so I gripped the wheel and off I went. It was NOT one of my proudest moments. My stubbornness outweighed the proper thinking and I should've turned around. The entire weekend was filled with spinning, lots and lots of spinning. It was only then that I was able to figure out my issue - stress induced vertigo, and wow was I miserable.
Sunday I drove home (enter #2 on list of things I'm not proud of doing,) and thankfully returned safe and sound. A friend knew exactly what I was going through and ran some medicine over. I napped and awoke feeling like I was in a fog. The spins had quieted again, but now I felt like what a person who drinks too much NyQuil must feel like.
Monday was the same, but unfortunately it was my birthday. I spent the day feeling momentarily dizzy at random times throughout the day. However being the completely stubborn person I am, I pushed on. Later that night I looked in the mirror and announced to myself, "if you don't feel better in the morning, you're going to the doctor." Did I forget to mention that through all of this I skipped heading to the doctor? I was doing everything in my power NOT to head in that direction. Why? Because I had NEVER felt like this before. My mind automatically goes to that awful place. What if it's cancer, what if it is a tumor, what if you're going blind, or you won't be able to drive ever again, or volunteer, or you have a week to live, or worse - you are paranoid and it's simply stress induced vertigo? They'll ask 15,000 questions, shake their head, not know what is wrong, and in the process take 3 tubes of blood from your arm only to return with a diagnosis that you're fine. I honestly think when I told myself that they'd have to take blood, my body went whoop wait we're fine, we'll behave I promise! Needles freak me out, and giving any type of blood instantly puts my entire body on alert, and all my veins play a wonderful game of hide and seek.
Thankfully today, the day after my birthday, I woke up fine. Your body is funny like that. If you don't slow down, it'll make you slow down. The past 5 nights I've averaged 9 hours of sleep per night. That NEVER happens. I do my best procrastination work late at night. Sometimes the best projects come out of a stress filled experience where you either get stuff done or you fail. I'll tell you a secret, I never fail. It's not meant to be a boast or a brag, it's simply the truth. My personal standards for myself are always unreachable highs.
We all hold ourselves to so many personal standards. While the level of achievement might be different in each category, many of us will kill ourselves just to reach the top of our tier. The personal punishments we tell ourselves if we don't make it make us feel small, unworthy, disappointing. Even if we are successful and reach the top, if you're like me there's always an extra credit level you could've reached. I could've done more, I could've helped more, I could've done this, or this, or this. When in all reality, just showing up was all you had to do. We push our bodies and minds to the limit for no reason. Life shouldn't be this hard. We shouldn't be running 24/7 to make sure our child gets the proper cupcakes, or the right shirt, or to their 3rd friend birthday party of the day. We shouldn't be putting our spouse on the back burner, giving them the last 30 minutes of energy we have a day, skipping date nights, not being able to figure out conversation topics, or scheduling intimacy. And we definitely shouldn't be putting our own selves at the bottom of the list. All those social interactions that are followed by a "we should get together" that never happen, looking at your friends and realizing you haven't seen them in months, or even scheduling your own wellness check with the doctor.
Learn to cut yourself some slack, slow down, and smell those roses. I need to take this advice just as much as the next person. Take a breath and enjoy life. You get one chance, make it count. At the end will it matter how high you land on your achievement categories? I can't say for certain, but I'm thinking probably not. So instead let's all vow today, this moment, to learn to turn down the speed we're racing around at and enjoy the moments instead. Savor the experiences before those experiences turn into a sad or forgotten memories. Push yourself to the front of the line, and make yourself a priority. No regrets, no hesitation, no guilt. You matter, you're important, and YOU are a priority.
until next time....
Sara
You see, I've always been an overachiever. In order to feel fulfilled I need to reach a new level of achievement. I need a purpose, a goal, an end result to keep pushing on. I'm the person that people see and instead of a greeting with hello, a smile is usually followed with "we were just talking about you" or "I was just thinking about you the other day," and a task at hand is their follow up. I'm a doer. I see it as a blessing and a curse.
My week of chaos began on Saturday, October 13th. A quick run up to my moms, Walmart (also I despise Walmart,) followed by a night at work. You see, I had promised to make signs for church, and true Sara style completely spaced being asked had to actually sit still and get them done. I should also mention now that all the days ahead also consisted of my normal routines, showering, getting the kids off to school, shakes, picking up the kids, dinner, and laundry, always SO much laundry.
On Sunday John and the boys headed out to the cabin for one final clean up while Abby and I went to church. I ended up doing something completely different with the signs, and my self diagnosed OCD was raging as I quickly drew things by hand. The rest of the day was filled with dropping Abby off at choir practice, and racing around to Kohl's, Target, and later Walmart again to find the rest of the items necessary for our Halloween costumes. A quick two hour evening with friends that night was my saving grace, after an afternoon with my daughter who continues to think she's 9 going on 19.
Monday John and I headed to couples therapy. Something I strongly encourage everyone to do. It has drastically changed our relationship for the better. Family photos followed which involved pulling the kids from school early (oh yes I did!) and racing out to Wisconsin Point. From there we went to bowl out, and I stayed with Deacon in the car while he napped. John and I had date night after that, and to be honest at this point I couldn't even tell you where we went.
Tuesday, now that was a day! In the shower that morning I realized I didn't have the tootsie rolls for popcorn day. Part of me thought, ah no biggie we'd skip them, but the overruling part of me said that I couldn't because the kids look forward to those every popcorn day. I left Deacon with John and raced to the school hoping by some miracle the tootsie roll fairy had dropped off a few bags while I was busy over thinking things. No such luck. Off to Super One we went to pickup 13 bags of tootsie rolls. 615 bags of popcorn later, that task was complete. I had just enough time to head home, load up the car and come back to the school for the variety show dress rehearsal.
Wednesday was picture retake day at the school. Deacon was my helpful assistant that day, and we knocked out all the retakes with Beth in about 2 hours. That afternoon we loaded up the car with all the supplies for the big show. The very first Great Lakes Variety Show was held that night. I can't even begin to tell you how proud I was of those kids. I was having proud mom moments the entire show for every single student watching them with tear filled eyes as they performed. It was clear every kiddo had put their fear in their pocket, marched right up to complete their talent, and beamed with pride. It was every bit as amazing as it sounds.
Thursday was when it all began to fall apart. Right away in the am with my trusty VP by my side, we counted and verified over $16,000.00 in incoming PTA funds. We had fundraisers overlapping that had brought in so much more than we ever imagined. Most of this money will go right back out in order to pay invoices for products, but it was a daunting and extremely stressful task. I can't even begin to express how amazed I am at how much our little school can do. When I dropped off the deposit I could feel that my stress level was reaching record levels. My mental checklist was growing shorter, but my stress and anxiety was climbing. Later that morning I went to get my hair done, and returned home feeling a tad strange. As I sat in the school pickup line I felt a huge wave of anxiety float over me. Then the dizzy spells began. My kids jumped in the car with their normal after school excitement, and I was worried that I wouldn't be able to drive us the 4 blocks home. As the world was spinning, I had a death grip on the steering wheel hoping we'd make it home so I could go home and lay down. After a quick dinner I told the kids that I needed to lay down for a quick 20 minutes before we of course headed out to another planned activity. I took my power nap, woke feeling more centered and off to the church council meeting we went. As I sat in my meeting I could feel the waves of dizziness rolling in, but thankfully they went away for the drive home. That night the dizziness returned, and I had to sleep with one foot on the floor to center myself. I texted John that I felt terrible, like the world was in a constant spin, it literally felt like I had spent the day at the bar and was now dealing with my consequences.
When I awoke Friday it was gone again and I hoped it was gone for good. I left for scrap booking camp, a 2 hour drive away, that morning. About 30 minutes in, the dizziness returned. I figured out if I held my tongue to the roof of my mouth I could almost control it, so I gripped the wheel and off I went. It was NOT one of my proudest moments. My stubbornness outweighed the proper thinking and I should've turned around. The entire weekend was filled with spinning, lots and lots of spinning. It was only then that I was able to figure out my issue - stress induced vertigo, and wow was I miserable.
Sunday I drove home (enter #2 on list of things I'm not proud of doing,) and thankfully returned safe and sound. A friend knew exactly what I was going through and ran some medicine over. I napped and awoke feeling like I was in a fog. The spins had quieted again, but now I felt like what a person who drinks too much NyQuil must feel like.
Monday was the same, but unfortunately it was my birthday. I spent the day feeling momentarily dizzy at random times throughout the day. However being the completely stubborn person I am, I pushed on. Later that night I looked in the mirror and announced to myself, "if you don't feel better in the morning, you're going to the doctor." Did I forget to mention that through all of this I skipped heading to the doctor? I was doing everything in my power NOT to head in that direction. Why? Because I had NEVER felt like this before. My mind automatically goes to that awful place. What if it's cancer, what if it is a tumor, what if you're going blind, or you won't be able to drive ever again, or volunteer, or you have a week to live, or worse - you are paranoid and it's simply stress induced vertigo? They'll ask 15,000 questions, shake their head, not know what is wrong, and in the process take 3 tubes of blood from your arm only to return with a diagnosis that you're fine. I honestly think when I told myself that they'd have to take blood, my body went whoop wait we're fine, we'll behave I promise! Needles freak me out, and giving any type of blood instantly puts my entire body on alert, and all my veins play a wonderful game of hide and seek.
Thankfully today, the day after my birthday, I woke up fine. Your body is funny like that. If you don't slow down, it'll make you slow down. The past 5 nights I've averaged 9 hours of sleep per night. That NEVER happens. I do my best procrastination work late at night. Sometimes the best projects come out of a stress filled experience where you either get stuff done or you fail. I'll tell you a secret, I never fail. It's not meant to be a boast or a brag, it's simply the truth. My personal standards for myself are always unreachable highs.
We all hold ourselves to so many personal standards. While the level of achievement might be different in each category, many of us will kill ourselves just to reach the top of our tier. The personal punishments we tell ourselves if we don't make it make us feel small, unworthy, disappointing. Even if we are successful and reach the top, if you're like me there's always an extra credit level you could've reached. I could've done more, I could've helped more, I could've done this, or this, or this. When in all reality, just showing up was all you had to do. We push our bodies and minds to the limit for no reason. Life shouldn't be this hard. We shouldn't be running 24/7 to make sure our child gets the proper cupcakes, or the right shirt, or to their 3rd friend birthday party of the day. We shouldn't be putting our spouse on the back burner, giving them the last 30 minutes of energy we have a day, skipping date nights, not being able to figure out conversation topics, or scheduling intimacy. And we definitely shouldn't be putting our own selves at the bottom of the list. All those social interactions that are followed by a "we should get together" that never happen, looking at your friends and realizing you haven't seen them in months, or even scheduling your own wellness check with the doctor.
Learn to cut yourself some slack, slow down, and smell those roses. I need to take this advice just as much as the next person. Take a breath and enjoy life. You get one chance, make it count. At the end will it matter how high you land on your achievement categories? I can't say for certain, but I'm thinking probably not. So instead let's all vow today, this moment, to learn to turn down the speed we're racing around at and enjoy the moments instead. Savor the experiences before those experiences turn into a sad or forgotten memories. Push yourself to the front of the line, and make yourself a priority. No regrets, no hesitation, no guilt. You matter, you're important, and YOU are a priority.
until next time....
Sara
Tuesday, July 24, 2018
A dog's best friend is his human.
Yesterday I had one of the hardest days of my life, I had to send Kong to heaven.
Kong was a 13 year old little man who was afraid of his own shadow. I've had him since he was a puppy, he was from a puppy mill where it was instantly obvious he was abused and neglected. It's no wonder why the little guy had anxiety and insecurity issues, he was found shaking, covered in his own poop, mud, and dirt in the corner of a barn all alone.
From the moment he arrived he became my sidekick. He tolerated John, loved the kids when they were babies, and always had the idea that he was a Doberman in a Chihuahua/Terrier mix body.
After we lost our other two dogs Max and Maggie, Kong found a renewed spirit and embraced his years as our only pet. His fear of people ever so slightly relaxed, but he still felt the need to bark and retreat when you tried to pet him. He spent his days enjoying the indoors relaxing in the sunshine.
There's a special connection between humans and pets. They love you unconditionally without fail, they welcome you home whether you've been absent for 5 minutes or 5 days, and they show their love with smelly kisses, chewed items, and loads and loads of hair.
Kong had a stage 5 heart murmur, his lungs were filling with fluid, and he struggled every night to breathe while laying down. We had already been down this path once before with Maggie, so I knew the heartbreaking decision that had to be made.
He was there for me through my darkest times, he welcomed all the babies home from the hospital, recovered from any sickness, and would follow me every step I took. We had a special connection, I was his human. When the vet asked me what his favorite thing in the world was, I replied with the truth - me.
Last night it was strange to not have him at my side for our rituals. The ugly cries that have resulted from this decision randomly show up, and I'm trying to keep myself busy to avoid my thoughts.
It's true that dogs are mans best friend. Even though he had no teeth, a fierce attitude problem, fears of everything, and extremely questionable tolerance, I loved him.
Until we meet again, always know that your mama loves you. And tell your sister to be nice to you up there.
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