Damn you, Isaac!

      So, it's been almost a month, and I'm still blaming Isaac for being off-track with my exercise.  Yeah, I know that isn't OK.  I have exercised some, but not like I was before.  The real problem is my routines weren't solid, yet; and I decided what I needed to do was 20 minutes 5 days per week (because obviously if you can't fit in 3 days a week, the solution is to increase that!).  Anyway, my brain has been scattered and my blood pressure has been up.  Of course, I don't have a blood pressure cuff; but I can tell my blood pressure has been higher because when someone says something stupid on facebook, instead of thinking "That's stupid," I think about jumping through cyberspace and punching him or her (OK, it's always a him) in the throat.  I know I shouldn't get that upset, but I don't understand how people can be so obtuse!  I made the following ecard at someecards.com to commemorate this special time:

  
   The funny thing is when I posted this on my facebook, I got likes from people on both sides of the political spectrum; so it seems everyone is feeling this way these days.  I find it strange that intelligent people can form such divergent opinions on the same topic given all the same information. 
   I digress.  So, I have to figure out how to turn this around.  I don't want Wretched PMS Bitch to come back, but I know she will if I don't get busy.  I think it would be best for me to start actually getting up early again.  I think that's really at the bottom of all of my routines falling apart.  Now that I think about it, I do believe some of the reason things fell apart, too, was the time that I just got slightly off track.  Right around the time Isaac happened, a couple of my friends who were expecting had their babies.  This time period also coincided with my due date in early September, so I was really depressed as a result.  I have been feeling better lately, since I've pushed through all the miserable feelings of that specific time period when I was supposed to have a baby in my arms but didn't.  I'm not saying it's a turning point, but it is another significant milestone I've survived.  I did feel better last night after watching the season 4 premiere of ABC's Modern Family, in which Cameron and Mitchell were discussing the disappointment and sadness they felt at not getting the baby they were planning to adopt.  It helped me realize that expecting a child and then not having a baby in your arms is emotionally difficult, no matter what.  I think many women who miscarry (myself included) feel like they shouldn't be sad for long because they were "only" pregnant for X weeks or months.  I had never thought about the pain of expectant adoptive parents who have their souls crushed by not getting the baby they've just "known" was going to be theirs.  It is an odd thing... how painful we humans find it when our hopes are dashed... how emotionally wrenching is the incongruity between our greatest expectations and reality.  This is seeming more and more universal to me.          
   So, back to my goal-setting.  I don't have to go out and run every day, but I do need to get up early every day.  It isn't fair to myself to get up at different times every day and expect that magically I'm going to be able to get the same amount done every day.  Don't get me wrong.  It's not the exercise I miss.  I didn't love getting up before dawn and exerting myself.  What I did love was having the chance to bless my body via exercise and then bless my soul via writing or painting before my daughter even woke up.  I felt less stressed and more accomplished before the day even really began.  That let me enjoy my time with my daughter much more.  Perhaps if I can't find the motivation within myself every day to get up early and do my body and soul blessings, I can be motivated by my drive to be a better mother for my beautiful baby girl.   

Two months... what?

   Wow, I have been at this for two months, now!  I'm getting faster all the time, and running for longer and longer stretches.  I started a new walking program with my insurer, and with it I received a pedometer and log my steps online.  I am surprised that even on a day when I'm fairly active, I am still only walking about 5,000 steps (not including my running); so I'm going to try to work on getting in more walking when I can, as the healthiest recommendation is 10,000 steps per day.  I am NOT expecting to regularly hit 10,000 per day, but I know I could do more than I currently am.   
   For a few weeks now, I've been trying to figure out a way to pick up the pace with my running.  Who knew all it would take was for a bat to come flapping around my head?  This morning I was near the end of my run, and I didn't realize I had a good sprint in me at that point; but I most certainly did.  I just kept running at the same pace when it swooped behind me; but, when it swooped for the second time in front of me, this white girl was like The Flash.  I let out a little shriek (in spite of myself), and my little feet just moved me as fast as they could.  Holy smokes... I didn't realize I could run that fast uphill.  Gotta love that adrenalin.  Really, I do appreciate it, though I'll be extremely happy never to have any more up-close and personal dealings with a flying mammal.
   Outside of that, I've been a busy bee... trying to get as much as I can done to get my house in order.  I am still having a problem with staying focused on one project at a time.  That must make my husband crazy, but he does a good job of not letting it show.  Perhaps, I have this problem of focus because I get bored easily... I don't really know, to be honest.  Of course, I do have a three-year-old, so I guess that may factor into lack of ability to focus, too.  Really, though I have to stop this because it makes me crazy to look around and see a million half-done things begging for my attention... blech.
   Today, I am trying to go easy on myself, especially since a few hours ago.  I logged on to Facebook and one of my friends from college posted pics of her beautifully decorated nursery, ready now for the arrival of their newest family member -- a baby girl.  She did such a beautiful job, and I'm so happy for her and her husband and son.  Though I do truly rejoice and celebrate in her joy and that of other friends who are expecting or just brought new babies home, damn if it doesn't remind me so acutely of my loss earlier this year.  I suppose that's natural, and I guess I am just as troubled by the fact that I am still so troubled.  I keep thinking I will round a corner, and sometimes I think I have; but then I get hit in the face by grief, and I wonder if I will ever really feel right again.  I cried for such a long time today... not just tears-streaming-down cry but wailing-out-loud-and-rocking-on-the-floor cry... dog-coming-over-to-comfort-me cry... asking God-out-loud-to-help-me cry.  Ugh... I felt a bit better after that release and decided to read The Velveteen Rabbit -- which for some reason I knew was what I HAD TO read -- to my daughter before nap time.  And I took a nap, too, which helped my brain put together some pieces.  I guess I've been believing for some time that just because I was "only" 2 and 1/2 months along, I should be able to "get over" this more easily.  Well, like the Velveteen Rabbit, we are only real when we are loved.  I loved that little baby I never got to know, and he or she was as real to me as the daughter laying on my couch.  In the wise words of the Skin Horse, "Once you are Real you can't become unreal again.  It lasts for always."     
   I suppose all I can do is put one foot in front of the other -- as I always do -- and realize this low shall also pass.      

Pushing through the pain

   Been doing lots of furniture refinishing... and one thing I know for sure is I do not ever want to do that for a living.  I would if I had to, but hopefully it will never come to that.  Of course, it is satisfying to look at the results and see the fruits of my labor; but, mostly it is messy, smelly work that doesn't engage the mind too much... leaving my thoughts to wander where they will, which is often to doubleplusungood places. 
   The nice thing is now my daughter has a pretty white table that cost me all of $10 and some labor, and the guestroom has a beautiful white bed that cost me only labor (since it was given to me for free... thanks, Dad).  So, now that the bed is done, I have to make way for it in the guestroom.  It's funny how grief sneaks up on you when you are least expecting it.  I was packing away the diaper bags and cloth diapers that had been stored in the guestroom since my newly potty-trained little girl no longer needs them.  All I could think of was the fact that these were supposed to be for the new baby.  I was supposed to have a baby next month.  I'm still crying, and I'm fairly sure at this point that I'll never be "over" this.  Like any death, you never stop thinking of the one you lost... nothing ever makes you whole again.  I say this as someone who has lost a sister and a very dear grandmother.  I get that it's not the same, but in some ways it is the same.  I was deeply bonded to the baby I lost and took for granted the fact that I would have that child in my life forever.  That child is lost, and the loss is as real as any loss I've ever experienced.
   For better or worse, though, I've got to push through this pain and embrace where I am in life.  My life is truly blessed, and I'm so thankful for my mother, my husband, my daughter, my father, in-laws, cousins and friends, my home, car, my husband's good job, financial security, the freedoms afforded to me as an American, nutritious food, health insurance, my health coach, and so many other things I am sure I'm leaving out.  I just had to enumerate those for myself, to remind myself. 
   I have to get out in the morning and run, especially since I only ran two days this week.  I failed mainly because I was staying up too late, which made me not even remotely want to get up early enough to run; and it's been much too hot to run after the sun comes up.  As with anything, I just have to get back into it.  I can't afford to backslide.  Running has been too good for my mental and physical health, so stopping isn't an option.  My life has changed so drastically for the better since I began running again, and I have to remember that.   

New Bones on Deck

   Yesterday, I went to meet with the Executive Director of the LIFE Resource Center.  They actually badly need someone to come in and be the receptionist on Tuesdays.  Right now, they are running the ship with a skeleton crew -- just three volunteers all told including the director, a counselor, and their admin person.  I cannot adequately express my excitement at the prospect of volunteering with this agency.  They are doing so much to prevent child abuse, and I consider it an honor to help.  I have to wait a couple of weeks for my background check to be completed, but as soon as it's done I can begin.  The director told me they are between grants, so she's very receptive to the idea of me doing fundraising and publicity.  This organization once had 31 employees, and now they are down to zero.  Thank God there are people that are still keeping things going even without pay. 
   Besides just being excited to take part in something so incredibly important and dear to my heart, I am thrilled to have an opportunity to get back to work.  Yes, it's just one day a week, but I think it will be good for my spirit to have the opportunity to be of service to people outside of my home.  Not to mention, it's always good for a mama's spirit to get an occasional break from her small child.  Ooh, and I actually get to wear my work clothes again!  That may sound ridiculous, but I am a bit excited about that.
   I am amazed when I think about the journey I am on.  It's only been a month and a half or so, but I am world's apart from where I was.  I feel so blessed that I was able to get the motivation to exercise and thus not only avoid medication but start working towards valuable goals.  I am also deeply blessed in that I have such a loving and supportive husband and mother, because without them none of these dreams would be coming true.
 

Opportunities

   I just made contact with a lady at the LIFE Resource Center in Picayune, a local organization that works to both prevent abuse and deal with its aftermath.  I am supposed to meet with her tomorrow, and may I say I am super duper excited!  She said they have a few different capacities in which volunteers can help, and I cannot wait to find out what they are.  Besides just doing all the preliminary volunteering stuff (applications, scheduling, etc.), I want to talk to her about what I can do in the way of an event for National Child Abuse Prevention Month.  Also, I wonder if I could help out with maybe making a facebook page to help make people more aware of this incredibly precious resource we have in our community.
   Mostly, I'm just incredibly grateful for an opportunity to work with like-minded individuals who are motivated and willing to devote their time to preventing and softening the blow of child abuse.  Abuse of all kinds is a scourge of our society.  Hurting people hurt people it's been said, and I know it's true.  I'm hoping to do a survey of some sort at the local jail to find out what percentage of the inmates have been abused.  Studies have shown that criminals are much more likely to have been abused than noncriminals.  In a Bureau of Justice Statistics study, Dr. Caroline Wolf Harlow reports that "between 6% and 14% of male offenders and between 23% and 37% of female offenders reported they had been physically or sexually abused before age 18."  Those numbers should startle you, maybe even scare you; because that's just the prisoners they surveyed, and that's just the prisoners who happened to admit abuse or even recognize that what they experienced as children was abuse.  Also, this study focused on inmates.  Can you imagine how many more abuse victims there are out there?  If you think you don't know someone who's been abused, you are probably wrong.  And if you know someone who was abused and says they are OK and it hasn't affected them negatively, well, they are probably dying on the inside and may not even know it.
   I leave the TV on something boring while Baby Boo sleeps so she can have some white noise.  Well, today, Dr. Oz was on so I left it on that.  I rarely ever watch his show.  Anyway, on today's episode he had some women who are into what's called Feederism, apparently some weird fetish where men pay morbidly obese women to eat and eat and eat.  At any rate, toward the end of the show Dr. Oz had some psychologist (or psychiatrist I'm not absolutely sure) talking to the women who needed help.  He asked them "Who in your life told you you were worthless?"  The woman who seemed most resistant to the help said the question didn't apply.  The doctor reminded her that she had shared with him some trauma from her childhood and asked her if she didn't indeed think this was what was wrong.  She basically went on to say that she had been molested and her mother knew about and allowed the abuse to go on, but this had nothing to do with her current situation.  The thing is, y'all, she was serious.  When my mother had her last most severe nervous breakdown, when she couldn't leave the house without having a panic attack and cried all day every day, she told me plainly that she "didn't need therapy" and that "she was over the abuse."  She didn't even get how badly it had hurt her until just recently and with much therapy... she just turned 60 and is finally starting to understand how horribly she was hurt by her father's actions.
   For anyone who was neglected or hurt as a child -- mentally, physically, or sexually -- know first that it isn't your fault.  The guilt is not your burden to bear.  Know also that if you haven't yet come to terms with your abuse, it is never too late.  There are resources somewhere nearby that can help you.  Please, seek them out.  Choking down the pain over and over only causes more pain.  I've seen it time and time again.  Above all things, know that you are not alone and you do not have to suffer alone.  You are worthy of love and happiness.   

Back In The Saddle

   Despite my sincere desire to go back to bed, I got up, put my running clothes on, and went for a run this morning.  It seemed really difficult today, which is probably because I only ran twice last week and the last day I ran was Wednesday.  Even so, I kept on truckin' and got it done.
   After I got back, I showered and brewed a pot of coffee.  I actually managed to get some more work on my novel done.  OK, so I haven't actually started writing it yet, but I do have it fairly roughed out on paper.  The ending is still a bit fuzzy to me, but I've mostly figured out the beginning.  Yes, I understand the actual writing of it will take a lot of work, but at least I've got a map.  Before, when I was pantsing, I would basically just hop on a train and hope it got me where I wanted to go, and that may be a fabulous strategy for some writers; but it is not a technique that works for me.  In general, I've always been a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kind of girl, but thinking back I've always been more comfortable with a bit of a plan.  For instance, when traveling through Europe, I just kind of be-bopped around the continent and the UK and Ireland without any solid idea sometimes of exactly where I was going, but I had my guidebook so I had a general idea of what to do when I got there.  I spent some time lost, but I managed to find my way most of the time because I had a map with me.  Similarly, I'm hoping the rough outline I have of my book will enable me to spend more time enjoying the process of writing instead of wasting time wandering around trying to figure out how to get somewhere.
   I feel ready at this point to begin the actual writing process.  One thing I really need to do is make myself a workspace where I am comfortable.  Once upon a time, before my dear daughter arrived on the scene, I had an office.  Right now, the room that could be an office is being used as basically a storage room.  It was pretty organized at the beginning of the year, but then when I got pregnant I started thinking about it as the new baby's room.  Obviously, after the miscarriage, I have been really conflicted about what to do with it.  At some point, I would like to have another baby, but I have to recognize the fact that that may not happen.  I can't keep on waiting for some event that or may not occur.  I just have to go with how things are at this point, and at this point I have a completely uninhabited room that needs to be put to use.  I'm thinking... "How much would I spend to have a brand new room added onto the house or to have part of the attic finished and stairs installed to get there?"  Into the thousands of dollars, if I had it to spend; but all it takes now is some elbow grease... what am I waiting for? 
   About a year and a half ago, I started the Flylady system, and that's helped me get my house largely under control, but I have fallen off the wagon repeatedly.  I'm really fired up now to get rid of stuff because I'm finally realizing how much stuff I want to do and I'm tired of spending my time organizing crap I don't even really need.  I want to do stuff not have stuff.
   Honestly, even when I was just planning on writing, I wasn't feeling quite the urgency that I have since last week when I discovered I have a clear and present passion to start fund-raising for a local non-profit that works to prevent child abuse.  I have really been brain-storming a million ideas of how I can help and researching what is out there.  The fact is, if I'm able to do what I want to do -- with my novel, with my volunteer efforts, with my family -- I won't have the time to deal with taming the beast that my house keeps becoming because I have too damned much stuff.  Consequently, I have been shedding more and more and more.  I cannot flourish in chaos.
   Another thing I've figured out I would like to do is host a part for my mother for her 61st birthday... I'm going to host her "Sweet 61" next year.  I've got less than a year... what WILL I do?  Haha.  Really, though, I was thinking she has never (at least not in the 34 years I have been alive) had a party.  I know she grew up poor with two brothers and two sisters, so I doubt there was much fanfare when she was a child either.  She always made my birthday special, and she deserves a special birthday where others can celebrate her.
   So many worthwhile plans, so little time.  What plans do you have?  What's getting in your way?        

Not a post about Chick Fil A!

   There is currently an INSANE amount of press about the Chick Fil A debacle.  May I say that I cannot stand with those who rallied around Cathy by buying chicken.  I understand that was symbolic, but I am not sure many who stood in line waiting for their orders understood the full depth of the debate.  Anyway, that's my little take on that, and I'm not going to waste any more time on the subject.
   What I am writing about is the following heinous story I came across while reading some wholly separate political article:

Cops: Couple produced child porn with 4-year-old

Submitted by Ashley Porter

NORTH FORT MYERS, Florida -- It started out with a cell phone found in a shopping cart, and ended with a couple arrested on charges that they engaged in sexual acts with a 4-year-old girl.The phone was found in a Cape Coral Walmart earlier this month and turned over to law enforcement. An FBI Innocent Images Task Force& agent found child pornography images on the cell phone.

A detective with the Lee County Sheriff's Office Sexual Predator Unit recognized the phone number as belonging to a man who is listed as a sexual offender.
That man, 33-year-old Alan Johnson, had been convicted on two federal child pornography charges in 2003, and sentenced to 70 months in prison. Johnson had pleaded guilty and didn't appeal his sentence.
A search warrant executed this week at the house Johnson shares with 37-year-old Jennifer Sparks helped detectives find evidence of the two producing child pornography on a cell phone camera, including images and videos of the two engaging in sex acts with a 4-year-old, according to the Lee County Sheriff's Office.
Upon contacting the Polk County Sheriff's Office, detectives were able to find the little girl and turn custody of her over to the Florida Department of Children and Families.
According to their Facebook pages, Johnson and Sparks run a website together that sells sex toys.

   I appreciate the reporting on this story, which points out that one of these two deviants was in fact convicted nine years ago!  Can I ask a question?  Why was this pervert allowed to walk the streets ever again?  Are we not at a point in our society where we understand that sickos like this don't stop being sickos?  Because he was allowed out of prison, he was allowed to destroy another life.  And due to God's providence that this sicko also happened to be a moron and left his phone behind in a shopping cart, the child seen in the video was rescued.  I don't know whose child this is, and let me express my deepest most heartfelt intention to pray for her and her ability to recover from the damage that has been done to her so early in her life.  Sexuality is a God-given beautiful part of being human, and the abuser forever taints and thus steals that part of his or her victim.   
   I don't know what to do with all this anger and hurt I feel about this.  Because my mother was a victim of childhood sexual abuse, I know how deep the scars go; and I still cry thinking about the little girl that was my mother having no choice but to accept the horrors being perpetrated against her.
   I want to know what to do, what to do!  Prompt legislatures to make tougher and tougher sentences for these criminals who are so clearly incapable of controlling themselves?  Get involved in the community and work with organizations like CASA to help as much as I can one-on-one?  Clearly, something has to give.
   Doing a little research (just now) I discovered that April 2013 will mark the 30th anniversary of the first National Child Abuse Prevention month.  I've fairly well decided to make it my mission to make this a big deal in my community, as big a deal as I can.  What I've got to do is figure out the stats for the county in which I live, which means I am going to have to contact local officials and experts in the field.  I can't figure out what needs doing until I figure out what is already being done.  I don't know if my efforts will amount to a hill of beans, but I feel this is worthwhile.  Of course, research is going to be extremely time-consuming; but, hey, at least all my time on the computer can actually be fruitful!    

Getting Personal

   I wasn't actually intending to write today, but I am convulsing just a bit over the following comments by Rep. Diane Black (R-TN) on her facebook page:

Starting today the Obama administration’s requirement that all insurance plans cover contraceptives and abortion-inducing drugs — the HHS mandate — goes into effect. I spoke at a press conference earlier today with fellow members of the freshmen class about this violation of our religious freedom. We must continue the fight to overturn this unconstitutional mandate! Every American, regardless of your religious beliefs, should be outraged by the administration’s willingness to trample on our first amendment rights. If we do not stand up and make our voices heard, it is only a matter of time before even more of our liberties are taken away by the government. SHARE & LIKE this post if you believe we must stop the Obama administration’s assault on religious freedom!

   In the post I just made yesterday, I talked about my experience with the drug Misoprostol.  Misoprostol is an abortion-inducing drug, and thankfully it was covered by my husband's employer's insurance.  My child was dead, but my only alternatives were wait it out, have surgery (D&C), or take a pill (Misoprostol) that would help me deliver.  So, let's visit the options, shall we?  I could wait around for a month or two for my body, which very much thought everything was fine and was full of pregnancy-sustaining hormones; have someone poke around in my uterus with a vacuum; or take a pill for a few days that would induce labor that would eventually occur anyway when my body figured out that "Wait, we're not sustaining a life anymore."  The choice was obvious for me, and I'm certain it's obvious for countless other women put in these terrible situations. 
   My family has a safety cushion for emergencies, and we would have been ready to tap into it if our insurance had not paid for it.  Thankfully, we didn't have to.  But what about some women who might not have that resource who decide to just wait so they don't have to eat into their family's grocery budget?  Why should this drug be considered any differently than any other life-improving or life-sustaining drug out there?
   I keep hearing the argument about religious freedom.  I believe in that, too!  One's right to religious freedom is sacred, but it is no more sacred than what goes on in a woman's womb.  My appreciation for reproductive choice existed to some extent before my experience, but it increased greatly after my experience.  I thought "How terrible would it be if I didn't just have to deal with the tragedy of my child dying inside of me but also had to deal with jumping through a bunch of bureaucratic hoops to get the care I need?"  A woman should not be accountable to some bureaucrat for her choices on what she does or does not do with her uterus.  No one has a greater stake in what goes on in her uterus than the woman who owns said uterus!
   I'm certain I will have more to rant about regarding this specific topic at a later time.  In the meantime, what do you think about the debates surrounding this issue?      

Week 6

   Well, Week 5 went OK, but Week 6 is going to need some work.  I skipped a day last week because I was going to help my sister-in-law move and figured I would need the energy, but in fact I didn't get to load the truck (for various complicated reasons) and I was only able to pick up a couple of things in the unloading process due to the fact that I was driving myself and had to stop to pee FOUR TIMES!  So, so much for that expected workout. 
   This week, though, I haven't made it out yet.  I know we're only two days in, but I'm gonna have to step it up tomorrow.  I actually got up early today, though, so that's progress.
   I haven't worked on the novel outside of planning -- making an outline and kicking ideas around in my head.  I have been engaged in a creative pursuit, however.  Recently, we were given a bed which I tried to refinish but instead decided to paint and use the headboard of the gifted bed in the guest room.  Hubby and I decided to build a platform out of the drawer section of the gifted bed, but alas I had to figure out what to do for a headboard.  I decided to take panel from the headboard off our old bed and paint it.  I gave it a muted gold over black background and painted a cherry blossom branch on top of that.  I have stained it, and all I have to do now is spray some acrylic sealer on it and add trim to the edges and it will be done.  OK, so it's not my novel, but I have felt pretty happy with the process and the results.  Since my daughter was born, I haven't really had many chances to do anything creative, outside of homemaking (cooking new things and decorating and organizing the house).  It hadn't occurred to me how much I missed painting and drawing... honestly, the artistic side of me was really stifled by being in relationships with artistic types.  That might sound like a cop-out, but I remember one of my boyfriends and my ex-husband both belittled my artistic endeavors.  I'm really blessed to have the husband I have now.  He believes in me and supports my decisions no matter what.  If I want to work, I can; or if I don't, I don't have to.  If I want to take classes, I can.  If I want to make things, I can.  I know maybe that sounds like how things are "supposed" to be, but I am so thankful to be in a relationship with a man who allows me to be whatever I need to be whenever I need to be it.
   Many times in relationships, we humans allow ourselves to become stifled by the relationship.  I know I'm guilty of this, but at the end of the day the only person you can't get away from is yourself; and if you can't be happy with that person, you can't be happy with anyone else.  I honestly really feel like I'm hitting my glide path in life.  I keep peeling back layer after layer and am finding the "real me."  Yes, that sounds cliche, but it's true.
   Even though I would have given anything to keep the pregnancy I lost earlier this year, I feel I'm a better person for having had the experience of miscarriage.  I know I'm more compassionate now, but now that the fog of depression has been lifted I am finding out more about what this life is really about.  I listened to the hell out of The The's "Phantom Walls" after I lost my baby.  By some crazy stroke of fate, I had CDs in my car and chose to play The The's NakedSelf album.  I have had it for years but never really listened to it.  I thank God that I came across the album and this song in particular.  It literally helped me survive one of the lowest periods in my life.  The lyrics of the song (found at http://www.lyricsfreak.com/t/the/phantomwalls_20136207.html) are as follows:

"Phantom Walls"
Sensed but unheard
As the curtain softly stirs
It is not just a memory
But it lives and breathes
Watching over you whilst you sleep
Kneeling beside you when you weep

Hey, don't be afraid
Don't try to run away
Because pain can be your friend
As it explains

The answers to your questions
Consoles you in blue reflections
Listens to your soul's confessions
Then leads you in new directions

So open your heart again
And feel the walls dissolve
Something's whispering to you
It's time to let go
Because the only thing that stays the same
Is that everything must change
Everything must change

Hey, embrace your pain
You cannot run away
And pain can be your friend
As it explains

The answers to your questions
Consoles you in blue reflections
Listens to your soul's confessions
Then leads you in new directions

And all the while that you were waiting
For love to keep the light from waning
It's pain that stops the heart from hating
That cures the mind of hesitating
That helps the soul in separating
From everything that it's been blaming
Everything's changing

   You can listen to the song at the following link: The The Phantom Walls on Youtube

   I guess I understood before this latest tragedy that pain is instructive.  As other humans, I've had no shortage of pain in my life... deaths, difficult childhood, divorce, etc.... but the miscarriage was easily one of the two worst things that ever happened  to me.  The other was my grandma dying right in front of me after a panicked drive to the local hospital back in 2002.  For various reasons that I won't go into right now, I thought I wasn't gonna get over that shit.  I'm still not quite over it.  Mostly, I just miss that lady, sweet Grandma Betty, so badly.
   The miscarriage, of course, was painful in a different way.  I was so excited about having another baby, and was already daydreaming about names and my baby girl being a big sister.  I was tracking the baby's development on a BabyCenter app and had taken to sleeping with my hands cupped over my womb, cradling the child I would soon know.  When I, my mom, and daughter were in the darkened room looking at the screen during the ultrasound, I knew that the baby didn't look right; so, when the doctor broke the news that mine was not a viable pregnancy, I wasn't completely shocked... which is not to say the air wasn't sucked right out of me... which is not to say it did not explode my whole universe.   
   The doctor told me that I could either wait to miscarry naturally (which could take a month or longer), take misoprostol, or get a D&C.  All I have to say is thank God for misoprostol.  You can read more about the drug and its uses on the National Institutes of Health's website. I got a paper prescription because I wasn't certain if or when I was going to get it.  By the time my husband got home, I decided that there was no use in continuing to be pregnant if my body wasn't nurturing my baby any longer.  Prior to actually having a miscarriage, I never really understood that you experience postpartum depression with a miscarriage just as you do after you have a healthy baby.  So, you have all the bullshit that comes along with having a baby, only you have no baby.  Not only was I grieving, I was experiencing a full-on hormonally induced emotional meltdown.
   Though I've experienced depression and required treatment with Prozac years ago, I was very much in denial about being depressed this time.  I guess part of me thought if I just kept putting one foot in front of the other, I would eventually feel better; but needless to say that didn't happen.  I would feel better for awhile and then worse for awhile, but even when I was feeling "decent" I was not my usual self.  Enter Life Version 4.0 Beta.  I knew if something drastic didn't change, I was going to have to go on meds.  So, here I am six weeks later... running two to three times a week, having nearly completed a painting for my headboard, and having developed what I think will be a very good idea for a novel.  All in all, I'd say that's a good first six weeks.  I can't wait to see where the next six weeks take me.             

Day 28... still at it

   Today marks four weeks... and, though last week I only got in two days of running, I am still feeling pretty confident about my ability to stay with my plan.  I got up a little later this morning (my mom was staying at my house so I could swing getting out of the house after hubbie left for work), and I remembered why I have been getting up so early.  It is hot outside!  Once the sun comes up, running becomes a swampass-inducing affair.  Having an aversion to sweating is admittedly silly, especially since I live in the Deep South and sweating goes with the territory of exercising; but I would like to avoid sweating and stinking as much as possible.  If that requires waking up before dawn, I'm in.
   I am beginning to feel ready to embark on a creative endeavor that requires some level of commitment.  Last November, I attempted NaNoWriMo, but that effort fell flat... went over like a lead balloon, as my mother always likes to say.  In fairness to myself, I'm pretty sure that men chose the month of November for NaNoWriMo.  I truly wanted to do it, but I found myself very busy preparing things for the holidays (I cook and serve Thanksgiving dinner for my family each year).  As in every other month, I also had to manage my parents' medical appointments, and -- considering the fact that for most of their lives my parents have treated their bodies like toilets -- there are many appointments.  It really isn't that time consuming, but they do seem to happen in clusters that make getting any kind of routine down seem impossible.  Excuses, excuses, excuses, I know!  No writer in the history of writing hasn't had interruptions aplenty.  That is life, and just as with exercising I must find my way over, under or around the obstacles life inevitably presents.  I think I busy myself with tiny, inconsequential details so I can convince myself I don't have time.  If I don't have time, I can't try.  If I can't try, I can't fail.  What I need to do, and soon, is to take a leap of faith -- a bold step in the direction of my passion.  Of course, just as with exercising, I need to select a small goal I feel comfortable with, one that will challenge but still allow some room for success.
   One problem I have observed with my current system of exercise is I sleep in on days I don't go running; and, as we all know, sleeping in begets more sleeping in (please note, that when I say sleeping in I mean I wake up at 6:45 shortly before my daughter wakes up, which leaves me just enough time to get dressed and brush my teeth).  I am pondering a solution that involves an early wake up time everyday.  On days that I don't go running, I can work on a novel.  Can I share something?  Just writing the words "I can work on a novel" made me nervous.  Stating it publicly is a bit frightening and certainly made my heart skip a beat.  Perhaps, I should restate... on the days that I don't go running, I will work on my novel.
   I feel I owe it to myself to embark on this creative journey.  Though I began three separate novels, I never followed through.  I don't know what happened but it got very real for me, and I abandoned the projects after a week or two of effort.  I allowed myself to get swallowed up by both the drama and the mundane details of my life.  If I can manage three days of running, I can manage three days of planning/writing my novel.  That is the commitment I am pledging at this time, knowing fully the possibility of failure exists.  There will be bugs, oh yes, but I have faith in God and myself that they will be overcome.              

Day 21... The Big Day

   I did not realize I had stumbled upon that crucial point in this little plan of mine... three weeks plus one day ago, I decided to embark on this journey.  I told my husband and my self that I would give exercise three weeks (starting Monday, June 18) to lift the cloud of depression that was hanging over my head; and, if I wasn't better in three weeks, I would go to a doctor and get myself on some Prozac.  There's nothing wrong with Prozac or any other drug that improves or even saves one's life; but, if I could get better without the use of pharmaceuticals, I was certainly in favor of that.
   Now, last week didn't involve running, but I did move an awful lot of heavy furniture and boxes last Tuesday and Wednesday.  Also, Saturday and Sunday, I about killed myself sanding a bed down the bare wood.  It's Monday now, and it still hurts to put my hands on my hips... so I'm thinking I can chalk that up to a workout.  Tomorrow, I'm going to get back into the swing of the running thing.  For many reasons, I now know it is worth the investment of time and effort.  For instance, I continued toward my time of wrath with very little actual wrath... a little grouchy on the day it began but mostly I've been pretty pleasant.  Also, while it may sound like a small thing, my nails look fantastic; see, I used to let out all my nervous energy on my cuticles and nails.  I'm not proud of that and know it's a nasty habit, but ya know I'm here to be real.  I didn't even notice I had stopped that until my mom mentioned how good my nails looked, and it occurred to me that I had been leaving them alone because all that crazy energy I had was being exerted productively.
   So, I'm thinking I can call my efforts thus far a success.  I no longer feel on the precipice of some cliff of grief and doom.  I still have my sad moments, especially when I think of the baby I lost and the fact that that may have been my last chance at another child; but it's the kind of grief that is healthy -- the kind that comes and then goes instead of lingering about like a fog.  I have to live for the life I have... not the one I imagine I want.  God knows, if I had what I imagined I wanted while in the depths of depression, my life would be one big mess.
   I hadn't realized the date I had set for determining whether or not my efforts were a success coincided with my birthday.  That may be mere coincidence, but it is rather a cool one.  I am 34 today, one of millions on the planet who came into existence this day in July.  Young and old, we are all officially 365 days older than we were 365 days ago.  One more trip around the sun, and probably more of us than not feel we haven't quite accomplished what we've been put here to do -- even if we haven't yet been able to put our finger on what that is.  We were all born with this exceedingly precious gift... life itself... and now what to do with it?  I still grapple with this, yet I realize that I am closer to the answer when I am doing something instead of pondering what I should do.
   Whilst busy sweating over the bed I was attempting to refinish (alas, I will have to paint the thing), I let my stream of conscious flow as it would.  My major epiphany was that there are some people that I haven't really forgiven and that I have no interest in forgiving.  Now, I guess in the process I might have actually done some forgiving, which is strange but true.  Basically, I came to the conclusion that the people who have hurt me and my loved ones suck as human beings, and there is no changing that fact... they suck and will continue to do so... so there is no point in me worrying about them anymore.  I guess I exorcised a lot of the demons of my past, just letting the thoughts come and go as they pleased.  I certainly feel lighter now. Perhaps the difference between this and all the other times this stuff has come to mind is I am typically either interrupted by something external or myself.  There is something to just letting yourself ponder something until you are done pondering it... sounds simple and obvious really, but I have had a bad habit in the past of either trying to divert my attention from or direct my attention to that which gnaws at me.  I suppose this is what meditation really is... just giving your mind the opportunity to do what it needs to do.
   So, 33 was a big year with much to do and many precious gifts hiding around corners.  I am so interested to find what 34 holds in store.  Whatever may come, my heart is now blessedly open to receive.             

Day 9 -- Aww, Yeah.

   I managed to exercise yesterday and today.  Yesterday, though, I didn't make it out as early as I'd hoped, and the hot sun of the deep South was horrendous.  It was only 8 a.m., but I still felt like I was going to melt.  Regardless, while I was running, I began to wonder why it took me eleven years to get back to running.  It feels good -- the endorphins are real -- and I don't want to stop.
   Apparently the heat triggered some type of reaction, because this morning I woke up before my 5:30 alarm, with no desire to roll over and go back to sleep (despite having gotten very little quality sleep).  I did my running, stretching, writing, and gardening done before anyone in the house was out of bed.  There is something deeply satisfying about that. 
   Another important benefit that I wasn't expecting but am incredibly grateful for is a reduction in PMS symptoms.  Usually, the primary way I know my "time of wrath" is coming is I behave like a heinous bitch and hate everyone I know, including myself.  No annoyance is too small to invoke rage or abysmal depression; so, yeah, the fact that I am about to have my period and my stress level is only slightly elevated is a huge and amazing thing.
   In general, my stress level has been greatly reduced.  Things that used to give me serious anxiety don't phase me as they once did.  This is not to say I have zero anxiety; but, because I am using by body's energy for propelling my body down the road, I don't feel like I'm going to jump out of my skin all day.  It's a good thing.

Day 7 -- One Week

   So, I made it this far, skipping a few days of entries due to... Life.  I got sick and, after recovering, decided to potty-train my daughter.  The day after her first breakthrough, she got sick.  Those are the kinds of bugs I had been expecting.  I did not -- wait for it -- do anything resembling deliberate exercise from Wednesday on.  Isn't that just the way life goes?  At a certain point in life, you learn to just roll with the punches; but, at a later point in life, you learn how to better recover from the punches that fully connect.  My latest punches are from physical illness, but I am hoping to get back into the swing of things tomorrow.  Most important to this is getting a good night's sleep!  My dear child hasn't been sleeping due to fever and generally feeling like crap, so that means I haven't been sleeping either.  Perhaps tonight I will get more sleep, but regardless of that I must get up and do my intervals in the morning.  I dealt with stress much less capably than I did on the days when I was exercising.  Mainly I just want to avoid finding myself back at Square One... ok, I realize I'm not very far from Square One right now, which is why I have to work that much harder to make exercise a habit.  I'm at a crucial point -- the point where nine times out of ten I just give up on whatever new thing I'm hoping will improve my life.    
   The fact is I am a better person when I exercise... I'm less stressed and more energetic, which enables me to be happier, which enables me to not be a joyless heezy, which enables me to be a better wife and mother.  You get the idea.  Everyone in my house wins when I spend a simple 20 minutes getting out of the house and getting my heart rate up.  So, tomorrow I must not dismiss my alarm, no matter how much I want to go back to sleep.
   Also, I miss the writing, though I must say just writing for three days -- the poems and the blog -- provided me a significant outlet for my creativity that sustained me through the stresses of the week.   
        

Day Three

   I did not in any way want to wake up this morning.  I remember dismissing my alarm instead of touching the snooze button, but I did manage to wake up 13 minutes later.  I looked at the clock and wanted to turn over and go to sleep, but I remembered this little project I've started and got up.  Yes, I know the likelihood that anyone but me will read this blog is not very high, but the possibility that anyone might helps me feel more accountable. 
   Yesterday, I had already decided I needed to walk today instead of run just to give my body a break as I'm just beginning again.  I am so glad I decided to go for that walk, because the guilt from taking a day off on day three could have seriously derailed me.
   Had I not done my exercise today, I would have blamed it on yesterday.  Yesterday, my dear three-year-old daughter decided to have an absolute meltdown while shopping.  I told her if she acted up again we would leave; and, when she did, we did.  I put all the stuff back, grabbed my purse and walked my crying, shrieking little bundle of joy to the car.  I thought it was bad at that point, but shit hadn't yet gotten real.  When my daughter realized the book and toy she had selected weren't going home with us?  That's when shit got real.  I really needed to go get diapers, so we were going to go to another store before heading to my in-laws' house... that was the plan anyway.  I told her if she didn't stop throwing a fit that instead of doing that we would go home.  She yelled at me and shushed me.  Uh-huh, that happened.  So, I put the car in reverse and came back home, with my daughter throwing a fit  -- a limbs-flailing, auditioning-for-the-part-of-Regan-in-the-remake-of-The-Exorcist fit -- almost the entire trip.  We live about 45 minutes from the city in which we were shopping, so it was a pretty unpleasant drive. She only calmed down when she realized that the fit wasn't working and that I was bringing her home anyway. 
   I'm not telling this story to complain about how terrible motherhood is but to illustrate the stress-reducing effect of feel-good endorphins.  If that would have happened last week, I would have had a meltdown myself.  More than likely, I wouldn't have even had the strength to walk out of the store.  I would have just sucked it up and let my child act like a holy terror.  I want to be a better mother and know that I have room for improvement, but the only way I can improve on that front is if I feel better as a human being.
 

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^  

Wondering when my parallel life slipped through

At that hairpin turn in the road

Way back when

Nothing could hold me together

I miss you and

Can't help but think

I shouldn't

have

Day Two

   So, here I am on the second day of my journey.  It is not yet 6:30 a.m., and I've already done my intervals, written a wee poem, made coffee, watered some plants, had a glass of water, eaten breakfast AND started my blog entry for the day.  This probably doesn't sound like much, but for me in my recent life this is a big FAT deal.
   Lately, life has very much been about survival.  I have been waking up when my toddler daughter wakes up, so I have to hit the ground running the marathon that is a day of parenthood without a blink of time for myself.  It is not a good thing.  Hence I decided to do my best to wake up early every day, so I feel like I've accomplished something other than changing diapers, fixing breakfast and cleaning by mid morning.
   I was surprised how easy the running went yesterday, though I think it went so smoothly because my body was completely caught off guard. When I was in the Army, I ran at least three days of the week, though I was not good at it and certainly did not like it.  Since I became a civilian, I've run only over the course of a couple of weeks for an experiment comparing the elevation in heart rate resulting from vigorous aerobic exercise and that resulting from moderate aerobic exercise.  Again, I was not a fan.  Honestly, the only reason I'm running now is for these mythical feel-good endorphins I keep reading about.  Basically, I'm trying to make depression my bitch. 
   For large swaths of my life, I've suffered from varying levels of depression.  When I was 18, I was suicidal and diagnosed with clinical depression and had to go on Prozac for six months.  The medication certainly helped, and since then I've had fewer problems, and nothing that time and prayer couldn't handle.  I have worked hard to maintain a sunny disposition and stay optimistic despite whatever reality came my way.  Since my miscarriage a few months ago, though, I've been wandering in a persistent fog of depression.  I have been fatigued more than I ever have in my life, and I routinely cry for "no reason" at all.  I remember sinking down, down, down to the point where I wanted to take my own life when I was younger; and I have no interest in going there again.  I have a husband and daughter counting on me, and I CANNOT let that happen... never mind that it just generally sucks.  I admitted to my husband that I was not well at all, which he certainly knew, and that I had to do something or things could get worse, which he did not know.  Exercise is my last-ditch effort to avoid falling further into the deep pit of depression and to avoid prescription anti-depressants.    
   OK, so the feel-good endorphins are not mythical.  I understand I'm only two days in, and really anything can happen that can screw up my progress; but I am finding my mood to be better.  The urge to cry did crop up a couple of times yesterday, but I muddled through; and overall I had a good day.  I had more energy to attend to whatever needed my attention.  A real perk that I found yesterday and today is a lack of nervous energy, which I customarily have in abundance... the kind of energy that makes me feel like a lab rat in a maze, darting around in no particular direction.  So that was gone yesterday and hasn't reappeared today.  Perhaps, I can learn what this word "relax" really means.

^^^^^^^^^^^ 

  The following is the wee "poem" I wrote this morning:

In breaking free,
We are able to take hold
When our hands are empty,
We may use them to glorify what is Holy         

Day One

   Today, the darling husband woke me up after 5 a.m..  I am unashamed to say I needed help getting started on this first day of what I know will be a long journey.  I got up, stumbled around in the dim pre-dawn light, found my workout clothes, brushed my teeth, and got out the front door by 5:30.  I did intervals... walking and running.  I didn't break any speed records, but I survived and didn't blow out a knee; so that's something.  I made it back by 6 a.m. and did my stretches while focusing on the horizon as the sun rose.

   When I got back, I spent some time on the back porch with a journal I've had for some time but have been waiting to use.  Embarking on a better life seemed a special enough occasion to begin using it.  I wrote the following poem, the first I've written in a very long time:

The odds are against us
Living things
The impossibility
Of our creation
Of our birth
And yet in this sliver of possibility
We are
The probing tip of a root
The buzzing of bees
The singing of birds
Our very breath
Seeking survival
for its own sake?

Launch

So, today I'm launching the beta test for Life v 4.0.  Previous versions of Life include Life 1.0 (active from birth until beginning of first marriage), Life 1.1 (active from beginning to end of first marriage), Life 2.0 (active from divorce to beginning of second marriage), Life 2.1 (active from beginning of second marriage to the birth of daughter), and Life 3.0 (active from the time of miscarriage of second child to the release of the latest version).

This latest version hopes to address certain problems that have been overlooked in previous versions of Life, namely lack of exercise and devotion to creativity.  There will be bugs.  I am well aware of this, but I am hoping I can work these out in collaboration with my Programmer.