From where I am sitting
I can see her.
She has set up camp right on the corner
of 10th and Ferry on the sidewalk
by the fire hydrant.
Her backpack is stuffed so full
it stands on its own
and doesn't tip over
under her weight as she sits down
on the ground and leans back against it,
stretching her legs out in front of her
as if she were sitting in a Lazy Boy recliner.
Her two trash bags of what
I assume to be her other belongings
sit off to her side.
Through the open window
I hear her talking
to no one around
in what sounds like nonsense to me.
Passers by step out into the street
to get around her,
avoiding looking her in the eye.
Although it is 93 degrees outside
she is wearing a long sleeved
green and blue plaid shirt
over a tattered black t-shirt.
Blue running shorts and brown work boots
complete her outfit.
At the end of May she is already sporting
an August tan on her legs and her face.
A blue baseball cap covers up
her dirty blond hair.
As I leave to walk out to my car
I think I understand why no one
is getting close enough
to say hello to her.
She is surrounded by a pungent cloud
of body odor, dirt,
and the smell of stale cigarettes.
It's hard not to acknowledge homelessness
exists in my neighborhood
when the stench hits me in the face.
Stereotypes and my own biases
stop me from offering her a couple of dollars.
She'd probably just buy a
40 ouncer or more cigarettes.
I reassure myself that she can get a hot meal
at the day shelter in just three more hours if she wants it.
And I too walk on by,
not looking her in the eye.
After all, she's not my responsibility, is she?
Sunday, June 3, 2012
Friday, January 13, 2012
New Year's Resolutions?
It's been a while since I've posted anything. Guess I've been caught up in a bit of a "dry spell". Oh well, that happens on occasion!
This year I made no new year's resolutions. And so far, I've kept all of them! In the past, I continued to come up with a half dozen or so things that I wanted to improve upon in the upcoming year. So, I'd make these sweeping proclamations on New Year's Eve of all that I was going to do "right" in the new year. Then I'd spend three or four days white-knuckling it through, determined to keep my word and turn my life around before giving up. That always left me angry and frustrated with myself and waiting for new years to come around again so I could start over. Well, not anymore.
I still have things that I'd like to improve upon. Like maybe not cussing out the old lady who cuts me off in traffic or the bus driver who doesn't smile and say "hello" back to me when I board the bus. Like eating two Oreos instead of four. But rather than making these sort of changes all-or-nothing absolutes, I'm looking at them as small stepping stones to living what I hope will be a more contented life. I have decided that my goal will be to try to make each new day a little better than the day before, even if in only a small way. Sometimes all I can muster is a change in my attitude, looking for the positive in a situation rather than focusing on what it is that I don't like about it. So far, that seems to be working much better for me and I don't find myself kicking "me" in the butt at the end of the day. Everything else is gravy! No promises I can't keep. No promises I don't want to keep. No promises I make only to please others. Just asking God to guide my decisions and to help me do my part every day of the year, not just the first three days!
This year I made no new year's resolutions. And so far, I've kept all of them! In the past, I continued to come up with a half dozen or so things that I wanted to improve upon in the upcoming year. So, I'd make these sweeping proclamations on New Year's Eve of all that I was going to do "right" in the new year. Then I'd spend three or four days white-knuckling it through, determined to keep my word and turn my life around before giving up. That always left me angry and frustrated with myself and waiting for new years to come around again so I could start over. Well, not anymore.
I still have things that I'd like to improve upon. Like maybe not cussing out the old lady who cuts me off in traffic or the bus driver who doesn't smile and say "hello" back to me when I board the bus. Like eating two Oreos instead of four. But rather than making these sort of changes all-or-nothing absolutes, I'm looking at them as small stepping stones to living what I hope will be a more contented life. I have decided that my goal will be to try to make each new day a little better than the day before, even if in only a small way. Sometimes all I can muster is a change in my attitude, looking for the positive in a situation rather than focusing on what it is that I don't like about it. So far, that seems to be working much better for me and I don't find myself kicking "me" in the butt at the end of the day. Everything else is gravy! No promises I can't keep. No promises I don't want to keep. No promises I make only to please others. Just asking God to guide my decisions and to help me do my part every day of the year, not just the first three days!
Monday, December 12, 2011
Christmas Eve in the "Ghetto"
My brother Ben has told his oldest son Aiden (age 5) that I live in the "ghetto". I don't. I live on the edge of the "not-so-nice" neighborhood! Anyway, here is my own version of the classic "Twas the Night Before Christmas", with a couple of extra stanzas added because I am verbose! So, here goes:
Twas the night before Christmas and all through my pad,
my kitties were being, well, quite simply, bad!
The stockings I hung on the wall with such care
are gone, disappeared, to I don't know where.
I had been nestled all snug in my bed,
my hair going which way all over my head.
I was wearing my sweats and my red Christmas socks
and lay there wondering if I'd locked all my locks?
Because out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
I ran to the window, not graceful at all,
and stuck out my hands to break my big fall.
The moon shining down on my grass dead and brown,
"Oh why no snow now?" I thought as I frowned.
And what to my bloodshot eyes did appear,
but a grocery cart pushed by a man drinking beer!
He was old and hunched over, not lively or quick
and I prayed "Oh dear God, don't let him be sick!"
Beside him his dog, quite ugly and brown,
was jumping as the old man yelled "Dammit, git down!"
"Now Bruno? Now Boxer? Now Jimmy? Now Spritzer?
You know damn well who I'm talking to mister!
Git up off the ground and climb up that wall.
And hurry it up 'fore the cops she does call!"
The dry, rustling leaves were swirling around
as that poor dog tried climbing up off the ground.
Up towards the roof, now that was his goal,
and he almost did make it, God bless his poor soul.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing and barking "Woof woof"!
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
drunk stinky man came tumbling down!
He was dressed in a coat and had two different shoes
and pants with deep pockets to carry his booze.
A bag of old cans he had flung on his back,
and looking at me, he put down his red sack.
His eyes, how they watered, his vision all blurry,
his cheeks were bright red and his speech was all slurry.
His small wrinkled lips were pinched tight and were pursed,
and he picked at his beard as he yelled and he cursed.
The cigarette butt held so tight in his teeth,
the smoke circling 'round his head like a wreath,
his face was quite dirty and his gut stuck way out,
he's not one of my friends, of that there's no doubt!
He was grimy and sweaty, a sticky old elf,
and I shrieked when I saw him in spite of myself.
He was blinking his eyes and turning his head
when I briefly envisioned how I would look dead
here in my humble, lowly abode,
here with my kitties and no one would know!
He still had not spoken much more than a word,
as he sifted through trash and I thought "How absurd!"
This man didn't come here to kill or to maim!
No, not that at all, that wasn't his aim.
But rather to scavenge some drink and some sup
for himself, his imaginary friends and his pup!
And as he tripped and fell flat on his face,
and before I did comment on his lack of grace,
it dawned on me that we were one in the same,
and that three years ago, that too was my game!
I was once dirty and stinky and messy,
and drunk and slobbering, to that I'm confessing.
So I say "Thank you" to God for bringing that elf
and for reminding me that, all by myself,
I am just as lost as that little old man,
and despite his appearance, he is part of God's plan!
So I grabbed him a blanket and covered him up,
and at the foot of my bed made room for his pup!
Merry Christmas friends, family, brothers and sisters...
Kris(ten) Kringle
Twas the night before Christmas and all through my pad,
my kitties were being, well, quite simply, bad!
The stockings I hung on the wall with such care
are gone, disappeared, to I don't know where.
I had been nestled all snug in my bed,
my hair going which way all over my head.
I was wearing my sweats and my red Christmas socks
and lay there wondering if I'd locked all my locks?
Because out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my bed to see what was the matter.
I ran to the window, not graceful at all,
and stuck out my hands to break my big fall.
The moon shining down on my grass dead and brown,
"Oh why no snow now?" I thought as I frowned.
And what to my bloodshot eyes did appear,
but a grocery cart pushed by a man drinking beer!
He was old and hunched over, not lively or quick
and I prayed "Oh dear God, don't let him be sick!"
Beside him his dog, quite ugly and brown,
was jumping as the old man yelled "Dammit, git down!"
"Now Bruno? Now Boxer? Now Jimmy? Now Spritzer?
You know damn well who I'm talking to mister!
Git up off the ground and climb up that wall.
And hurry it up 'fore the cops she does call!"
The dry, rustling leaves were swirling around
as that poor dog tried climbing up off the ground.
Up towards the roof, now that was his goal,
and he almost did make it, God bless his poor soul.
And then in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
the prancing and pawing and barking "Woof woof"!
As I drew in my head and was turning around,
drunk stinky man came tumbling down!
He was dressed in a coat and had two different shoes
and pants with deep pockets to carry his booze.
A bag of old cans he had flung on his back,
and looking at me, he put down his red sack.
His eyes, how they watered, his vision all blurry,
his cheeks were bright red and his speech was all slurry.
His small wrinkled lips were pinched tight and were pursed,
and he picked at his beard as he yelled and he cursed.
The cigarette butt held so tight in his teeth,
the smoke circling 'round his head like a wreath,
his face was quite dirty and his gut stuck way out,
he's not one of my friends, of that there's no doubt!
He was grimy and sweaty, a sticky old elf,
and I shrieked when I saw him in spite of myself.
He was blinking his eyes and turning his head
when I briefly envisioned how I would look dead
here in my humble, lowly abode,
here with my kitties and no one would know!
He still had not spoken much more than a word,
as he sifted through trash and I thought "How absurd!"
This man didn't come here to kill or to maim!
No, not that at all, that wasn't his aim.
But rather to scavenge some drink and some sup
for himself, his imaginary friends and his pup!
And as he tripped and fell flat on his face,
and before I did comment on his lack of grace,
it dawned on me that we were one in the same,
and that three years ago, that too was my game!
I was once dirty and stinky and messy,
and drunk and slobbering, to that I'm confessing.
So I say "Thank you" to God for bringing that elf
and for reminding me that, all by myself,
I am just as lost as that little old man,
and despite his appearance, he is part of God's plan!
So I grabbed him a blanket and covered him up,
and at the foot of my bed made room for his pup!
Merry Christmas friends, family, brothers and sisters...
Kris(ten) Kringle
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Just Another Manic Monday!
Well, I've already written about being depressed, so why not write about being manic?
I have been fortunate to have been relatively stable for the last 3 years or so with only a few minor mood episodes. And definitely not anything lasting for more than a couple of days each time. My past experience has been that episodes of depression or mania last for weeks at a time. I've learned something new. Well, new to me. A manic episode can start and snowball in a matter of 4 days! That was my experience a week ago and it was beyond out of control. The "fun" part lasted two days, I think. Then it progressed to anger, impulsive behavior, and then some, in a matter of hours. I had a brief manic episode back in May but got it under control with the help of my therapist and psychiatrist before it got to the point where I couldn't stop the ball from rolling. But not this time. Last Monday, in a 24 hour period, I got my nose pierced, got my tongue pierced, added a little navy blue coloring to my hair (actually, it doesn't look too bad!), had 14 debit transactions totalling approximately $1000.00, used up a whole tank of gas without leaving town, literally threw away half of my possessions (this was not in a suicidal frame of mind) so that I would have less to clean and organize in my apartment, convincing myself that I was just going to live "simply" from now on. I even pawned some jewelry and electronics for next to nothing for some fast cash. That about covers it, as best as I can remember, or care to admit to, anyways.
After much resistance, I agreed to go to the hospital to get re-established on my medication regime. I was angry. I have not had a psychiatric hospitalization in three years now. For me, that is a record. I know the "nut houses" all too well. Also, this episode was not the result of deciding to say "screw it" with my meds and be my own doctor as has been true of me in the past. After a few restless nights and sleep disturbances that had started weeks ago, I lost track of when I had taken my medications and out of a fear of accidentally taking too much and overdosing, I panicked. By early Tuesday morning, I was frantic and decided that maybe it would be best to get rid of my medications - all of them - even non-psych meds. I have overdosed in the past and although I wasn't suicidal in the least, I was worried that people wouldn't believe me so (and my apologies to the environment, water supply, and raccoons) I threw everything away. Within that 4 day span, I could not recall when my last doses of anything was and I was already going through significant physical withdrawal. I had uncontrollable muscle spasms. I had not slept at all for five days or eaten anything for at least three full days. I was lightheaded. My vision was blurry. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. One minute I was melting, the next I was freezing. I could not physically sit still. My speech was pressured and loud. My thoughts were racing and seemed to me to be like a word-association salad of some sorts. And I was scared and confused.
I am now trying to put the pieces back together. My apartment is a disaster. I still do not know what all I threw away or donated to charities in a flurry of activity. The amount of destruction that took place in just a few short days has left me angry and frustrated with myself. This wasn't supposed to happen anymore. But it did. And it may again some day. I can't worry about that. I do not know what tomorrow or the next day will bring. I have friends who also have bipolar disorder who have been stable for more than ten years. They still tell me that they do not know what the next day holds in store for them either. The course the illness takes is different for each person with this diagnosis. It is not very predictable and there are no guarantees. Now, one week later, my sleeping is getting back on track. My thoughts are coherent and cohesive. I can sit still. I am grateful to be coming out of this "mess" now. Although I did some out of control things, it is nothing that can't be straightened out with time. I stayed sober through this. That in itself is a miracle. I did not hurt anyone else or myself. That is a miracle. I have many friends who were there for me, saw the worst of it, went above and beyond to help me get to the hospital, take care of my cats....and loved me through it all. They reassured me that everything was going to be okay and they did not leave me to struggle on my own. They answered the phone each time I called, they listened, they cared. I so desperately needed that.
This isn't something I have ever shared much about. I have spent so much time trying to "think" my way out of having bipolar disorder. Unfortunately, more than 8 college and graduate school courses in psychology did not make me immune to this disorder. I still struggle to see this as a "legitimate" problem, because I'm smart. And I'm smart. And I'm smart dammit! Well, smart or not, I need to acknowledge that this is a significant part of my life story. There is still so much stigma attached to having a mental illness. How can I expect that to change if I continue to walk around, ashamed to admit that I do have a mental illness? I am finally realizing that it is only a part of who I am. It will not define me unless I let it. So, now you know, perhaps more than you wanted to. God bless you if you are still reading this. My reasons for sharing are a bit selfish. It is therapeutic for me and it is an act of acknowledging what I am working so hard to adapt to. Today, it doesn't have to kill me. I don't have to "fix" myself, for that implies that I am broken. My attitude has switched from curing to coping and living my life fully. That is perhaps the greatest miracle of all!
I have been fortunate to have been relatively stable for the last 3 years or so with only a few minor mood episodes. And definitely not anything lasting for more than a couple of days each time. My past experience has been that episodes of depression or mania last for weeks at a time. I've learned something new. Well, new to me. A manic episode can start and snowball in a matter of 4 days! That was my experience a week ago and it was beyond out of control. The "fun" part lasted two days, I think. Then it progressed to anger, impulsive behavior, and then some, in a matter of hours. I had a brief manic episode back in May but got it under control with the help of my therapist and psychiatrist before it got to the point where I couldn't stop the ball from rolling. But not this time. Last Monday, in a 24 hour period, I got my nose pierced, got my tongue pierced, added a little navy blue coloring to my hair (actually, it doesn't look too bad!), had 14 debit transactions totalling approximately $1000.00, used up a whole tank of gas without leaving town, literally threw away half of my possessions (this was not in a suicidal frame of mind) so that I would have less to clean and organize in my apartment, convincing myself that I was just going to live "simply" from now on. I even pawned some jewelry and electronics for next to nothing for some fast cash. That about covers it, as best as I can remember, or care to admit to, anyways.
After much resistance, I agreed to go to the hospital to get re-established on my medication regime. I was angry. I have not had a psychiatric hospitalization in three years now. For me, that is a record. I know the "nut houses" all too well. Also, this episode was not the result of deciding to say "screw it" with my meds and be my own doctor as has been true of me in the past. After a few restless nights and sleep disturbances that had started weeks ago, I lost track of when I had taken my medications and out of a fear of accidentally taking too much and overdosing, I panicked. By early Tuesday morning, I was frantic and decided that maybe it would be best to get rid of my medications - all of them - even non-psych meds. I have overdosed in the past and although I wasn't suicidal in the least, I was worried that people wouldn't believe me so (and my apologies to the environment, water supply, and raccoons) I threw everything away. Within that 4 day span, I could not recall when my last doses of anything was and I was already going through significant physical withdrawal. I had uncontrollable muscle spasms. I had not slept at all for five days or eaten anything for at least three full days. I was lightheaded. My vision was blurry. My hands were shaking uncontrollably. One minute I was melting, the next I was freezing. I could not physically sit still. My speech was pressured and loud. My thoughts were racing and seemed to me to be like a word-association salad of some sorts. And I was scared and confused.
I am now trying to put the pieces back together. My apartment is a disaster. I still do not know what all I threw away or donated to charities in a flurry of activity. The amount of destruction that took place in just a few short days has left me angry and frustrated with myself. This wasn't supposed to happen anymore. But it did. And it may again some day. I can't worry about that. I do not know what tomorrow or the next day will bring. I have friends who also have bipolar disorder who have been stable for more than ten years. They still tell me that they do not know what the next day holds in store for them either. The course the illness takes is different for each person with this diagnosis. It is not very predictable and there are no guarantees. Now, one week later, my sleeping is getting back on track. My thoughts are coherent and cohesive. I can sit still. I am grateful to be coming out of this "mess" now. Although I did some out of control things, it is nothing that can't be straightened out with time. I stayed sober through this. That in itself is a miracle. I did not hurt anyone else or myself. That is a miracle. I have many friends who were there for me, saw the worst of it, went above and beyond to help me get to the hospital, take care of my cats....and loved me through it all. They reassured me that everything was going to be okay and they did not leave me to struggle on my own. They answered the phone each time I called, they listened, they cared. I so desperately needed that.
This isn't something I have ever shared much about. I have spent so much time trying to "think" my way out of having bipolar disorder. Unfortunately, more than 8 college and graduate school courses in psychology did not make me immune to this disorder. I still struggle to see this as a "legitimate" problem, because I'm smart. And I'm smart. And I'm smart dammit! Well, smart or not, I need to acknowledge that this is a significant part of my life story. There is still so much stigma attached to having a mental illness. How can I expect that to change if I continue to walk around, ashamed to admit that I do have a mental illness? I am finally realizing that it is only a part of who I am. It will not define me unless I let it. So, now you know, perhaps more than you wanted to. God bless you if you are still reading this. My reasons for sharing are a bit selfish. It is therapeutic for me and it is an act of acknowledging what I am working so hard to adapt to. Today, it doesn't have to kill me. I don't have to "fix" myself, for that implies that I am broken. My attitude has switched from curing to coping and living my life fully. That is perhaps the greatest miracle of all!
Friday, October 7, 2011
Maybe I'm Just Blind...
Please bear with me. I'm very tired but I felt like I needed to write a follow up to my posting from about 12 hours ago. If you have read that entry, well, you know that I have found myself in a very dark place, a very lonely place, a place that finds me unsettled. But, just as all of my friends have assured me, God will find me, even when I'm lost - literally lost!
Earlier this afternoon, after some rather emotional conversations with dear friends, I decided that rather than going home, I'd go to the park for a little while and just enjoy breathing in the fresh air. My first thought was to go to Columbian Park. I definitely know where that is. Then I thought to myself, no, I'll go to Happy Hollow Park. I'm 97% sure where that is. And then it hit me. I wanted to go back to Earl Park, to a place I would go with one of my closest friends a little over 12 years ago when I wanted to sit back and enjoy God's creation. I was 85% sure I could find "our spot" again. So, I headed out, set the cruise, cranked up the music and started my journey to a place that is about 30-35 miles west of Lafayette (I think?). When I saw the sign for Earl Park, I made my turn off of US 52. And I didn't recognize anything at all. But I was still sure that I could find my way there because I found it in 1999. I mean, come on, how hard could it be? I'm a smart girl! I started down a road that led to another road that led to another road that dead-ended at a corn field. The road just stopped. There was a cornfield to my left, a cornfield in front of me, and some water to my right (a branch of the Wabash? a stream? No clue.) I had been driving for about an hour. Far enough away to cross into another time zone and there I was, in a field. No bathroom in sight. I forgot to go before I started out because the place that I was trying to find had a bathroom. And now...I had a little problem.
I got out of the van which I parked at the edge of the field and started for the corn. Even though I was somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, west of Swarmington, Indiana, I started wondering if I should roll up the windows and lock the car before wandering off. Because my iPod was laying on the front seat. And maybe, just maybe, someone could be lurking behind those dried out corn stalks, waiting for their opportunity to snatch up a free iPod. Didn't think about that for too long because...I had a more pressing issue. I walked far enough into the field that I was pretty sure I couldn't be seen from the road and yet I could still see my van. And I had a dilemma. Many know that I'm just a little particular when it comes to restroom facilities. I won't even use an outhouse or Porto-potty. But I had to go. Sorry for any visuals this creates, but I've already bared my soul so...I kicked off my flip flops. And lost the pants and the pink boy-shorts. I balled everything up and tossed it a good 10 feet away so nothing would get wet. I figured out how to stand so that I wouldn't pee on my legs because that would just be gross. And after a few minutes spent convincing my body that it was OK to let go, I...yeah. Putting my pants back on was more of a challenge because I can't balance at all on my right leg. And yes, the surgeon did mention something about having difficulty walking on grass. He didn't say anything about cornfields but he probably didn't think he should have had to. Dried up corn stalks are not very sturdy for those city folk friends of mine. So I grabbed onto three of them and bunched them up to make one strong one to hold onto while I worked my way back into my pants. Got my shoes on, headed back to the car. The car keys were not in my pocket. I had to go back to find them, somewhere in the vicinity of where I marked my territory. Found them. When I turned around, I noticed that there were a couple of logs floating in the water. There had to be at least 20 turtles sunning themselves on the logs. And I had to smile. If you've noticed, my blog picture is of a turtle, sitting on a log, in the water. I do not believe that that was a coincidence.
I started out on a journey to find something, anything to bring just a little bit of peace to my heart. I thought I knew where I was headed. And I got lost. Maybe it's hard to find what you're looking for when you're straining so hard to see something you want to see? I thought I needed to be at Earl Park. God thought I needed to be lost amongst the fields somewhere in rural Indiana, next to a couple of logs floating in the water, and the turtles basking in the sunlight. I was out there, wandering around, lost and a bit nervous about my ability to find my way out of there, and God found me. He came out there after me, turned me towards the sun, and said "Here I am, silly girl!" As I got back in the car to leave, I noticed that the leaves had changed colors. Yellow, auburn, violet, orange, brown. I hadn't even realized that they had changed colors, even though fall has always been my favorite time of the year. If I hadn't gone searching for something to restore my hope, I would probably not have noticed that the leaves were brilliant in the sunlight. I do believe that I could have laid down and fallen asleep right there in the corn field. I immediately felt the tremendous load I've been trying to carry lifted off of my shoulders and I felt light, free, loved. I felt peace. I turned the music off for the ride home. I let my hand hang out of the window and felt the breeze blowing through my hair (I haven't had hair long enough to blow in the breeze since 1997!) and I could breathe. I could breathe!. And I know now that I am going to be OK. I'm going to be more than OK. I'm going to be able to start moving forward again.
As I entered back into the West Lafayette city limits, I turned on the radio. This is what I heard:
"Somewhere in this darkness
There's a light that I can't find
Maybe it's too far away...
Or maybe I'm just blind."
The next verse starts like this:
"So hold me when I'm here
Right me when I'm wrong
Hold me when I'm scared
And love me when I'm gone
Everything I am
And everything in me
Wants to be the one
You wanted me to be"
Even though I was "gone" for a while, quiet a while, God kept looking for me and when I was so sure that I was lost, he found me and he led me home.
I debated about sharing this experience, worried that I wouldn't be able to convey what I felt this afternoon. I had even briefly lamented that I didn't think to bring my camera to take pictures. No picture could have captured what was laid out before me. And I don't need a picture to hang on the wall in my living room because I have it wrapped around my heart.
Thanks for not giving up on me, God. And thanks for bringing back my smile. (Not sure I'm so thankful about the peeing in the field, but maybe that was a good thing too!)
And the song was "When I'm Gone" by 3 Doors Down. Funny thing is that although I've heard this song many, many times, and liked it, it was not on my iPod. It will be soon.
Thank you friends for your patience, love, and understanding. And for believing God wouldn't walk away from me, even though I couldn't seem to find him.
Earlier this afternoon, after some rather emotional conversations with dear friends, I decided that rather than going home, I'd go to the park for a little while and just enjoy breathing in the fresh air. My first thought was to go to Columbian Park. I definitely know where that is. Then I thought to myself, no, I'll go to Happy Hollow Park. I'm 97% sure where that is. And then it hit me. I wanted to go back to Earl Park, to a place I would go with one of my closest friends a little over 12 years ago when I wanted to sit back and enjoy God's creation. I was 85% sure I could find "our spot" again. So, I headed out, set the cruise, cranked up the music and started my journey to a place that is about 30-35 miles west of Lafayette (I think?). When I saw the sign for Earl Park, I made my turn off of US 52. And I didn't recognize anything at all. But I was still sure that I could find my way there because I found it in 1999. I mean, come on, how hard could it be? I'm a smart girl! I started down a road that led to another road that led to another road that dead-ended at a corn field. The road just stopped. There was a cornfield to my left, a cornfield in front of me, and some water to my right (a branch of the Wabash? a stream? No clue.) I had been driving for about an hour. Far enough away to cross into another time zone and there I was, in a field. No bathroom in sight. I forgot to go before I started out because the place that I was trying to find had a bathroom. And now...I had a little problem.
I got out of the van which I parked at the edge of the field and started for the corn. Even though I was somewhere, in the middle of nowhere, west of Swarmington, Indiana, I started wondering if I should roll up the windows and lock the car before wandering off. Because my iPod was laying on the front seat. And maybe, just maybe, someone could be lurking behind those dried out corn stalks, waiting for their opportunity to snatch up a free iPod. Didn't think about that for too long because...I had a more pressing issue. I walked far enough into the field that I was pretty sure I couldn't be seen from the road and yet I could still see my van. And I had a dilemma. Many know that I'm just a little particular when it comes to restroom facilities. I won't even use an outhouse or Porto-potty. But I had to go. Sorry for any visuals this creates, but I've already bared my soul so...I kicked off my flip flops. And lost the pants and the pink boy-shorts. I balled everything up and tossed it a good 10 feet away so nothing would get wet. I figured out how to stand so that I wouldn't pee on my legs because that would just be gross. And after a few minutes spent convincing my body that it was OK to let go, I...yeah. Putting my pants back on was more of a challenge because I can't balance at all on my right leg. And yes, the surgeon did mention something about having difficulty walking on grass. He didn't say anything about cornfields but he probably didn't think he should have had to. Dried up corn stalks are not very sturdy for those city folk friends of mine. So I grabbed onto three of them and bunched them up to make one strong one to hold onto while I worked my way back into my pants. Got my shoes on, headed back to the car. The car keys were not in my pocket. I had to go back to find them, somewhere in the vicinity of where I marked my territory. Found them. When I turned around, I noticed that there were a couple of logs floating in the water. There had to be at least 20 turtles sunning themselves on the logs. And I had to smile. If you've noticed, my blog picture is of a turtle, sitting on a log, in the water. I do not believe that that was a coincidence.
I started out on a journey to find something, anything to bring just a little bit of peace to my heart. I thought I knew where I was headed. And I got lost. Maybe it's hard to find what you're looking for when you're straining so hard to see something you want to see? I thought I needed to be at Earl Park. God thought I needed to be lost amongst the fields somewhere in rural Indiana, next to a couple of logs floating in the water, and the turtles basking in the sunlight. I was out there, wandering around, lost and a bit nervous about my ability to find my way out of there, and God found me. He came out there after me, turned me towards the sun, and said "Here I am, silly girl!" As I got back in the car to leave, I noticed that the leaves had changed colors. Yellow, auburn, violet, orange, brown. I hadn't even realized that they had changed colors, even though fall has always been my favorite time of the year. If I hadn't gone searching for something to restore my hope, I would probably not have noticed that the leaves were brilliant in the sunlight. I do believe that I could have laid down and fallen asleep right there in the corn field. I immediately felt the tremendous load I've been trying to carry lifted off of my shoulders and I felt light, free, loved. I felt peace. I turned the music off for the ride home. I let my hand hang out of the window and felt the breeze blowing through my hair (I haven't had hair long enough to blow in the breeze since 1997!) and I could breathe. I could breathe!. And I know now that I am going to be OK. I'm going to be more than OK. I'm going to be able to start moving forward again.
As I entered back into the West Lafayette city limits, I turned on the radio. This is what I heard:
"Somewhere in this darkness
There's a light that I can't find
Maybe it's too far away...
Or maybe I'm just blind."
The next verse starts like this:
"So hold me when I'm here
Right me when I'm wrong
Hold me when I'm scared
And love me when I'm gone
Everything I am
And everything in me
Wants to be the one
You wanted me to be"
Even though I was "gone" for a while, quiet a while, God kept looking for me and when I was so sure that I was lost, he found me and he led me home.
I debated about sharing this experience, worried that I wouldn't be able to convey what I felt this afternoon. I had even briefly lamented that I didn't think to bring my camera to take pictures. No picture could have captured what was laid out before me. And I don't need a picture to hang on the wall in my living room because I have it wrapped around my heart.
Thanks for not giving up on me, God. And thanks for bringing back my smile. (Not sure I'm so thankful about the peeing in the field, but maybe that was a good thing too!)
And the song was "When I'm Gone" by 3 Doors Down. Funny thing is that although I've heard this song many, many times, and liked it, it was not on my iPod. It will be soon.
Thank you friends for your patience, love, and understanding. And for believing God wouldn't walk away from me, even though I couldn't seem to find him.
God Won't Give Me More Than I Can Handle? I Beg To Differ...
So, here I am. Sitting in front of the computer at 2:59 a.m. I say that so you will know when I actually wrote this entry because blog spot never publishes an accurate time. Maybe it's the time zone setting? I don't know. And I do not care to know.
It's been several weeks since my last posting. Since I had already written about my recent struggles with depression, I thought I'd wait until I was feeling peppy again. Well, I'm still waiting for that peppiness to return and I figure that if I sit around waiting to feel better before writing something new, I may never write again.
Those closest to me know that the past 12 months have been very difficult for me, especially with regards to my physical well-being. I've been to the ER 13 times, had a 4 day medical stay, a hysterectomy, gallbladder removed, hand surgery to repair a damaged blood vessel and remove a clot, and an ankle fusion and tibial bone graft. I have had x-rays, CT scans (with and without IV contrast dye), MRI's, ultrasounds, upper GI scopes, a colonoscopy, a biopsy...yeah, I think that covers most of it. And lots and lots of blood work. I don't know how they expect my blood count to stay where it is supposed to be when they keep taking tube after tube after tube of blood. After each "situation" seems to be resolved and I feel like I'm getting back up on my feet, I get leveled by another earthquake, followed by sometimes more severe aftershocks. Each time, I have crawled out of the rubble, brushed myself off, and started moving forward again. But life keeps throwing punches my way. I have also dealt with some significant family relationship stress, attended the funeral of a friend's 21 year old son, and been notified that my prescription drug benefits are being cut effective November 1. And that is what has happened in the last 10 days. I started the appeal process for my health benefits and my appeal was denied. I spent 3 hours yesterday morning at the Social Security office and the Medicaid office. I then spent 1 1/2 more hours on the phone in the afternoon trying to get answers. Well, no one has them. I don't know how many times my calls were transferred. Each person said the issue was not with their agency or department and when I called who they told me to call, I got the same answer. I have had to fight for my benefits for 2010 and 2011. Each time, it took approximately 5 months to resolve the issue and constant phone calls and trips to meet with someone, anyone, in person. Well, I do not have the energy to go through that process again. Not right now. I am physically exhausted. I am mentally exhausted. I am emotionally exhausted. And I do not feel God's hands holding my heart.
Some of my medical issues are greatly exasperated by stress. I have medications to treat the symptoms but the problem will not be resolved until my stress level is under control. I have been praying, reading daily devotionals and meditations, and praying, and talking to friends, and praying, and going for walks, and praying, and taking bubble baths, and praying, and petting my kitties, and praying, and watching funny movies, and praying, and making a list of what I am grateful for and listing my blessings each day, and praying.....and I am barely hanging on. I have forgotten when the last night I got some sleep was. I haven't been able to keep food down again since Tuesday evening. I lost track of the days and so my bills got paid late for the first time in a year. I don't even remember when I last fed my cats. They were meowing rather loudly so I ventured into the kitchen to find their food bowl empty and water bowls dry. I feed them twice a day. And as I stood there, I could not recall if I had fed them that morning or if they have been without for a day or more. I'm putting part of that on them however (perhaps as a way of trying to alleviate guilt) because their food bag is sitting on the kitchen floor, open, and they haven't helped themselves. Every other cat I've ever had has always gotten into the food or chewed holes in the bag if it's been left out, even if their bowls were full. So I'm trying to decide if my cats are stupid or lazy. Either way, it doesn't matter. I'm not being a very good kitty momma.
I know that I can count on my friends for support and guidance. But at least for me, right now, I am not comforted by their words. Acceptance. Letting go. Doing the next right thing. Pray more. This too shall pass. And God doesn't give us more than we can handle. I do know that what I'm going through won't last forever. Nothing does. I know that there are many others facing some of these same struggles and then some. I'm not proclaiming that I have the worst life out of anyone on the planet. And I don't expect life to be rainbows and butterflies all of the time. But knowing that doesn't take the heartache away. A little bit ago I was sitting out on the patio looking up at the stars. Tonight, the sky is clear. I must not be looking far enough or hard enough because I still can't see God. And I don't feel him. And I am afraid. This is more than I can handle. There is no more "oomph" inside me. Since I'm not able to move forward, I'm just trying to hang on tight enough that I don't fall behind.
And I keep praying, even if I don't think God can hear me.
It's been several weeks since my last posting. Since I had already written about my recent struggles with depression, I thought I'd wait until I was feeling peppy again. Well, I'm still waiting for that peppiness to return and I figure that if I sit around waiting to feel better before writing something new, I may never write again.
Those closest to me know that the past 12 months have been very difficult for me, especially with regards to my physical well-being. I've been to the ER 13 times, had a 4 day medical stay, a hysterectomy, gallbladder removed, hand surgery to repair a damaged blood vessel and remove a clot, and an ankle fusion and tibial bone graft. I have had x-rays, CT scans (with and without IV contrast dye), MRI's, ultrasounds, upper GI scopes, a colonoscopy, a biopsy...yeah, I think that covers most of it. And lots and lots of blood work. I don't know how they expect my blood count to stay where it is supposed to be when they keep taking tube after tube after tube of blood. After each "situation" seems to be resolved and I feel like I'm getting back up on my feet, I get leveled by another earthquake, followed by sometimes more severe aftershocks. Each time, I have crawled out of the rubble, brushed myself off, and started moving forward again. But life keeps throwing punches my way. I have also dealt with some significant family relationship stress, attended the funeral of a friend's 21 year old son, and been notified that my prescription drug benefits are being cut effective November 1. And that is what has happened in the last 10 days. I started the appeal process for my health benefits and my appeal was denied. I spent 3 hours yesterday morning at the Social Security office and the Medicaid office. I then spent 1 1/2 more hours on the phone in the afternoon trying to get answers. Well, no one has them. I don't know how many times my calls were transferred. Each person said the issue was not with their agency or department and when I called who they told me to call, I got the same answer. I have had to fight for my benefits for 2010 and 2011. Each time, it took approximately 5 months to resolve the issue and constant phone calls and trips to meet with someone, anyone, in person. Well, I do not have the energy to go through that process again. Not right now. I am physically exhausted. I am mentally exhausted. I am emotionally exhausted. And I do not feel God's hands holding my heart.
Some of my medical issues are greatly exasperated by stress. I have medications to treat the symptoms but the problem will not be resolved until my stress level is under control. I have been praying, reading daily devotionals and meditations, and praying, and talking to friends, and praying, and going for walks, and praying, and taking bubble baths, and praying, and petting my kitties, and praying, and watching funny movies, and praying, and making a list of what I am grateful for and listing my blessings each day, and praying.....and I am barely hanging on. I have forgotten when the last night I got some sleep was. I haven't been able to keep food down again since Tuesday evening. I lost track of the days and so my bills got paid late for the first time in a year. I don't even remember when I last fed my cats. They were meowing rather loudly so I ventured into the kitchen to find their food bowl empty and water bowls dry. I feed them twice a day. And as I stood there, I could not recall if I had fed them that morning or if they have been without for a day or more. I'm putting part of that on them however (perhaps as a way of trying to alleviate guilt) because their food bag is sitting on the kitchen floor, open, and they haven't helped themselves. Every other cat I've ever had has always gotten into the food or chewed holes in the bag if it's been left out, even if their bowls were full. So I'm trying to decide if my cats are stupid or lazy. Either way, it doesn't matter. I'm not being a very good kitty momma.
I know that I can count on my friends for support and guidance. But at least for me, right now, I am not comforted by their words. Acceptance. Letting go. Doing the next right thing. Pray more. This too shall pass. And God doesn't give us more than we can handle. I do know that what I'm going through won't last forever. Nothing does. I know that there are many others facing some of these same struggles and then some. I'm not proclaiming that I have the worst life out of anyone on the planet. And I don't expect life to be rainbows and butterflies all of the time. But knowing that doesn't take the heartache away. A little bit ago I was sitting out on the patio looking up at the stars. Tonight, the sky is clear. I must not be looking far enough or hard enough because I still can't see God. And I don't feel him. And I am afraid. This is more than I can handle. There is no more "oomph" inside me. Since I'm not able to move forward, I'm just trying to hang on tight enough that I don't fall behind.
And I keep praying, even if I don't think God can hear me.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
Name That Tune # 2
My iPod is definitely getting a workout since I decided to cancel my cable service over a month ago! I just snap it onto the iPod dock on my stereo and let it shuffle through my favorites. The song striking my fancy the past couple of days? Here's the lyric:
"You're just an empty cage girl if you kill the bird."
I must admit that I've been feeling a lot like an "empty cage" lately. I have been spending way too much time bouncing back and forth in my mind, looking for the answers to any number of problems that I am facing today. If I could just think hard enough and long enough, I am sure that I would be able to figure out why my GI system is not cooperating. I could figure out why there seems to be a little "snafu" with regards to my ankle healing after surgery, especially since from an orthopedic standpoint, I was doing better than expected. I could figure out why I am having difficulty with some of my interpersonal relationships. I think I should be able to figure out why, why, why. I mean, why not?
Why not? Because I am looking in the wrong place for answers. I could spend the rest of my life driving myself crazy with thinking and more thinking. I keep forgetting that I will get exactly what I need from God, if I allow Him to be in charge of my life. I wish that I could say that I am very dedicated to regular prayer and meditation. I'm not. I get busy with my day, the time flies by, and I'm too tired at night. What? Those aren't good excuses? No, they are not. I am finding that I need to make a more conscientious effort to incorporate prayer into my daily routine. A couple of things I have learned are that I can engage in prayer any time of the day, anywhere I am. And I have learned that time spent in prayer and quiet reflection (where I am listening to God, rather than talking at God) leaves me with a sense of inner peace and calm. I do not really need to have all of the answers. I just want them sometimes. If I keep spinning my wheels over things that I have no control over, I end up feeling very empty and alone. If I want my cage to be full of life, I need to allow God's spirit and the love of those around me to feed my bird...
The song? "Crucify" - Tori Amos, album "These Little Earthquakes"
"You're just an empty cage girl if you kill the bird."
I must admit that I've been feeling a lot like an "empty cage" lately. I have been spending way too much time bouncing back and forth in my mind, looking for the answers to any number of problems that I am facing today. If I could just think hard enough and long enough, I am sure that I would be able to figure out why my GI system is not cooperating. I could figure out why there seems to be a little "snafu" with regards to my ankle healing after surgery, especially since from an orthopedic standpoint, I was doing better than expected. I could figure out why I am having difficulty with some of my interpersonal relationships. I think I should be able to figure out why, why, why. I mean, why not?
Why not? Because I am looking in the wrong place for answers. I could spend the rest of my life driving myself crazy with thinking and more thinking. I keep forgetting that I will get exactly what I need from God, if I allow Him to be in charge of my life. I wish that I could say that I am very dedicated to regular prayer and meditation. I'm not. I get busy with my day, the time flies by, and I'm too tired at night. What? Those aren't good excuses? No, they are not. I am finding that I need to make a more conscientious effort to incorporate prayer into my daily routine. A couple of things I have learned are that I can engage in prayer any time of the day, anywhere I am. And I have learned that time spent in prayer and quiet reflection (where I am listening to God, rather than talking at God) leaves me with a sense of inner peace and calm. I do not really need to have all of the answers. I just want them sometimes. If I keep spinning my wheels over things that I have no control over, I end up feeling very empty and alone. If I want my cage to be full of life, I need to allow God's spirit and the love of those around me to feed my bird...
The song? "Crucify" - Tori Amos, album "These Little Earthquakes"
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