We All Say Goodbye

 I haven't told everyone the story about Sarah's casket. Seeing as how we were all very emotional, I may not get it just right. But, when we stepped into the room to pick out a casket we were a little overwhelmed. It is the last decision we made. He showed us the cheaper caskets, knowing we didn't want to spend a ton of money. We were looking at the next to the cheapest. Then Ty looked at the least expensive one and popped off, "It looks like duct tape!" We had just had a conversation about how She loved duct tape and sharpies. The funeral home owner took off and ran back in with a sharpie. Sure enough, it would stay on the casket. So, we decided that it might help her friends and family say good bye if they could leave her a message. My mother knew that We would not be able to read all of the signatures. So, she took pictures of many of them for us to read later. I have just got to the point where I could read them this week.

The Duct Tape bow is still there.

I considered sharing these on Facebook. But, decided that this was a much better venue.

Emotional Chin-Ups

     I posted a list on my Facebook page of things to do to “Keep Your Shit Together” when you are clinically depressed. The person who wrote the list commented that their level of happy is just set way lower than most peoples. The “regulars.” I know that everyone has times when they are depressed. And, there are people that pop anti-anxiety/anti-depression pills like candy because it is the fashionable thing to do. But, there are some of us that have genuine issues.

     Here is a metaphor.  Remember in elementary school, the PE teacher would have everyone see how many chin ups they could do? There were the kids that could spring up to the bar like they had angelic wings that sprung forth from their unfairly athletic backs and could do them until the cows came home, or the teacher said stop. Those are the people that are ALWAYS genuinely blissful. For them, happiness comes very easily. However, they have trouble being empathetic at times. The idea of being upset about something or something “getting to you” is beyond their grasp. They look at the rest of us at times like we are just in denial.

     Then, there are the kids who can get up to the bar pretty easy. But, have to work on getting more than 5 or 6 chin ups. Those are the more “regular” people. They acknowledge that we should be happy. And, they really are. But, at times, like yesterday with the bombing in Boston, they are able to grieve and find frustration. But, when it comes to taking care of themselves and their loved ones, they function well.

Well, there are some of us that the kids dragging over a five gallon bucket, wrapping our legs around the pole, climbing with all of our might to get to where we are hanging by our knees. We just never get up the right way no matter how hard we try. That is me. Both in and out of the metaphor.  Some days, I can shimmy up that bar. But, there are some days, that the bucket tips over and I end up with my rear end stuck in it.

     As I get older, I am finding that I tend to run a bit manic depressive. My poor husband. He never knows what he will awake up to or go to be with. Shoot, there are some nights that I run the gambit between getting between the covers and falling asleep.  That being said, my bar of happiness is a lot lower than it was. And, it was low to start with. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy. I have so many things to be happy about. Between a loving husband, a dear son, and job that I actually don’t stress over and my faith in God, I am good. But, if any of these are in question, I am down. If I worry that I said something to Ty or Jerry that upset them, or if I over analyze something they did or didn’t say too long, I am crushed. Luckily, I work pretty much by myself. It is nice to not have to smile all the time. It gets exhausting. I can sit at my desk and cry. Or, step outside. I also work with people that knew Sarah. I hadn’t worked here in a couple of years when we lost Sarah. But, they were all at the visitation and almost all at the funeral. It helps a lot being with people that loved and knew her.

     Next blog will be far more uplifting.

     Find your bliss.

It's Been 3 Years Worth of Change

Three years ago, I had just been fired from my job. My divorce was freshly finalized. I had a son that I just knew hated me. He was warming up to Jerry. But, he still had issues with me. I was torn between the grief of all of what I had put my family through and the freedom and joy I had found with my new start. I was, and still am, head over heels in love with Mr. Whetsel. There is a kind of trust and peace between the two of us that I am still stunned by. And, with his work schedule at the time and me not having a job, we were able to time together like teenagers do. I still think that is part of why we got off to such a warm start.

I was paranoid. I was introverted for the most part. The idea that someone would want to spend time with me was just odd. I saw myself as dowdy and a nervous nelly. I was plain and boring. What Jerry saw in me was beyond my grasp. I still do not understand. But, he made it very clear how he felt. And, I have never doubted it. I had faith in him. I felt as though I was unworthy of anything or anyone. I felt like a nuisance. My opinions did not matter or what I wanted. The sheer weight of my own dislike of myself was suffocating. Luckily, my family was there supporting me, along with Jerry. He actually stayed at my parents’ house with me most of the time.

I eventually got my feet under me a little. I eventually got a job with the census bureau. It forced me to get out and about and talk to people in person. Eventually, I also got a job at Radio Shack. I moved in with Jerry. In this time, I also made some very dear friends. I also got one of those things called a social life! I also got engaged to Jerry. If he hadn’t proposed, I am pretty sure some of those dear friends were going to have some strong words with him. Life was pretty good. We set a date and off we went. The kids’ dad got married a month after we got engaged. The kids were ecstatic. They were looking forward to having “bonus parents.”

In this time, I started to see a little of what Jerry saw. It is a lot easier to see the best in yourself when you are happy. I had become more relaxed and tossed some ideas around about things like getting a tattoo with Jerry. Shortly after, I got to meet his friend Richard. He had worked with him at the paper and was an artist as well. He had also become a tattoo artist in town. Come to find out he had done work on several of my friends. I am glad I can call him my friend now. I started a second job at Hickory Street Café as a waitress. We were making wedding plans and things were going great. I was still not where I wanted to be as a person. I was still insecure and did not understand why people wanted me around. The big day came and I became Mrs. Whetsel. I even got my first tattoo as a wedding gift from Richard. Good times were had by all.

I decided that working both jobs was too much for me. I was not going to be able to spend any time during the summer with the kids. And, I was miserable at Radio Shack. So, I went to working just at the restaurant. We had a good summer. I got to spend a lot of time with the kids. And, Sarah’s friend Paige even came down for a week or two.

Then, we lost Sarah. All of the progress I had made as a person went down the drain. But, I didn’t fall back into the “dark place” as I call it. I just shut down. Not completely. I was just worn down. The emotional whiplash was exhausting. When I finally started coming back, I realized I had left a wake of devastation behind me. Mostly my house and with Ty. I had always felt like Ty was his father’s son. He adores his father, like any boy should. And, I didn’t want to upset what makes him happy. But, he and I have opened up our line of communication. And, things are much better. I fear the house may never get where I want it. But, we are working on it.

I ask Jerry every once in a while if he sees a change in me, for the better. He without hesitation, he looks over and says, “Yeah” with a crooked smile. That smile kills me. Sigh… Oh, yeah. Sorry, my husband distracts me. It is nice to wake up every morning and feeling genuinely blessed that you get to see your loved one’s face. I was picking on him about being a bad influence. I was wearing a My Chemical Romance t-shirt I sleep in at the time. I told him, “I’m pierced and tattooed in a rock ’n roll t-shirt. And, it’s your entire fault.” I sauntered out of the room giggling. He just sat on the couch and laughed. I had joked with him in one of our first conversations about me getting a tattoo that he would be more than OK with me ending up looking like a Suicide Girl. And, on that note that I should point out, that I am now friends with my tattoo guy’s girlfriend. And, I am very glad of it. She is this cool, warm, terribly charming woman that has the same insecurities as me. And, she is an awesome hair dresser that is going to dye my hair purple. If piercing my nose and dying my hair purple is the extent of my mid-life crisis, we’re good.

Chicken Little Should Avoid My Kitchen...

     Well, it has been a long while since I have done any writing, more than a Facebook post. I find myself getting very frustrated with myself and the state of things in my house. (And by house, I mean the actually building and contents. NOT the people in the building. We are still making people sick with the happy and kissy face.) It makes it hard to focus on getting much writing done. I have however made a list of things to blog about. So, alas! There is hope!!! Earlier today I read a post that a friend posted about lying on Facebook. I am including the link because it was a great read and got me to thinking. (That is what a good blog does after all.) So, I am starting here.

http://www.kveller.com/blog/parenting/we-need-to-quit-telling-lies-on-facebook/

     When we post of Facebook, we are generally stating we are doing. Now, every once in a while, we focus on things that are hurting our hearts, asking for prayer request or asking for help.  I am truly blessed that I don’t have many friends that just complain. Don’t get me wrong, we whine and mope. But, it is usually just getting something off of our chest. And, most of my friends are very witty about it. There are some days that I roll around laughing at some of you guys.

     But, I digress. The rest of the time, we are posting about the good things, funny moments and sharing pictures. Fair warning to the parents of beautiful babies, I AM downloading the pictures of your children on my phone. They bring me happiness and make me happy. So, if your child ever goes missing, I promise I didn’t steal them. Jerry won’t let me. My favorite posts though are from the same parents. They post the sweet beautiful families. They also post about the messes their kids make, the mean things their kids do or say. They also post about their mistakes.  We need to share these things more often. For example, I have dishes sitting on my tiny counter that I honestly don’t know how long they have been there. I hate doing them. And, we don’t have the water pressure or an electrical line to put one in. Maybe know that the world knows this, I will be more motivated to actually wash them. Jerry usually helps me with them. But, we both keep staring at the piles of glasses and plates with the same vacant, “if we look past them, they will disappear” stare.

     Our house is also stuck in a remodel stand-off. We are in a position that in order to fix one thing, we have to fix something else which will require fixing something else, which will mean a HUGE remodel. Side note: Popcorn ceilings are of Satan. Not only do they collect dust and flake off when you bump them, when you have a house that is in need of leveling, you can’t just patch and making the ceiling pretty when it cracks. Yes, there is a huge crack in the sheetrock on the ceiling. It is accentuated by the cat5 cable that my husband decided he had to run to the living room so the Mac could have internet. He has been sufficiently reprimanded and promises never to do it again. OK, as much as I hate it, I was mad for about 2 minutes. I quite literally cannot stay mad at the man. The kitchen needs cabinets in a bad way. Like a complete remodel. But, the electric is worse.

     Now it may seem that I am complaining. But, I am not. I am trying to figure out how on earth to make this home complete without moving out and selling both mine and Jerry’s kidney’s to pay for it. One day, I will have it done. Knowing my luck, it will be right before we have to move. But, until then, I will have to try to fight off the parade of boxes that are coming into our house that are impeding me getting anything done.

I am rather impressed that there are not more boxes than there are. Jerry’s grandmother has had to move and there was a lot of stuff. For every box he said OK to being sent home with him, he said no to 4. And, with a parental unit that hoards, I am relieved that he refrained. And, we can get them to storage for now. But, the problem is that, in the past, when we have been getting items gathered up to take to storage, we would use the 4 by 6 feet or so entry way of the house to pile up the boxes until we had a chance to run them to storage. Well, the puppy that thinks cardboard is a yummy treat prevents us from being able to do so. So, for the time being both the bathroom and Ty’s closets are full of holiday decorations and a ton of shirts that Jerry’s great aunt gave him. There is so much stuff that just does not need to be in the house that we are both overwhelmed.

     Some people might say, don’t worry about it too much. But, I want this house to be a home for Ty that makes him feel at home and wanted.  And, right now, it’s getting there. We at least finally got the 2 sheets of plywood between his bed and the wall out of the house. Granted, they are still at the end of the driveway behind our old king sized mattress and headboard. Others might call it looking like “white trash.” For the moment, I am going with it keeps the bedroom warm. OK, it really does. But, yeah, I was hoping someone would have walked off with it by now. I am working on being a better mother. He assures me that I am good Mom. But, I know I could do a lot better. I love him so much and I am very proud of the man he is growing into. I want to be worthy of him. I am working on being a better person for him and for God. They do go hand in hand. One of our next journeys it Das Whetsel Haus will be looking for a new church home. We need to find a church home where we can both take communion without renouncing our beliefs. It’s a little difficult for a divorced Baptist and a Catholic. But, we will get there.

     So, I totally lost track of where I was going with this blog. The whole not lying on Facebook thing. In general, we don’t talk about when we have problems. Sure, when I sliced my leg with an exacto knife I posted about it. I could not pass up something that was that embarrassing. But, I wouldn’t go on and on about it. Well, maybe about pulling out the stitches or how it looked like chicken fat. I do enjoy making people squirm. But, I don’t want people to feel sorry for me.

     So, when I do post about how something hurts or makes me sad, I am probably actually hurting far worse than normal. I had a lot of people comment about how well I am doing after losing Sarah. Or, how they just do not think they could go on. What people don’t see are the moments when I can’t breathe. When I am hurting so bad, I cannot even cry , when all I want to do is curl in a ball and sob. I have been blessed with ADD. So, it doesn’t last long. But, it still hurts. But, I don’t want to burden my friends with that. I don’ occasionally post about her. She is my daughter and always will be. When my friends are having discussions about old stories about their kids, I will participate. I try to refrain from doing it too much with people that knew her. I know it awkward for people to hear you talk about a dead child. But, guess what, she is still my child and I have stories about the honary girl. But, I try to refrain when I know it will make someone uncomfortable.

     Well, I best wrap this up. Just remember to keep it real. The real stories are way more fun anyway. 

Watching Little Man Grow

     My son is turning 13 in just less than a month. He lives in a small town with his dad. I rather like the town where he lives. However, there are not a lot of people there that read comic books, watch sci-fi TV or movies or have a clue what a Tardis is. So, Ty has often feels a bit torn about letting his friends know that he enjoys these things. Well, he has a friend spending the night that I have not actually met until now. He is the smallest kid in his class. And, he is new to town. I was in the kitchen putting a few things away in the kitchen. Meanwhile, I can hear Ty showing him around the living room, giving him the tour. When I heard, "That's Harley Quinn" come out of his mouth, I got a little excited. He enjoys several things. He has even watched a little Doctor Who. I told him that is nice to have a friend to talk to about these things that won't make fun of him. His friend gave me a very understanding smile.
     I was even more pleased to overhear them talking to him in his room. They were talking about Sarah. His other friends all knew about her. And, I am sure that Ty is like me, in that we know people are tired of hearing us talk about her. But, since he doesn't know anything about her, he is listening very openly. It warmed my heart. And, there is an air of self confidence around Ty right now that I don't get to see very often. I am so happy that he can call the boy his friend. And, he is welcome at my house anytime.

King of the Nerds

     One of my goals, not a resolution, is to blog more. I find it helps my brain function and makes me happy. Also, I actually process thoughts better through writing. I had a friend comment that when I write, I come across far more organized and "put together" than I do in person. She was soooooo right. So, I am sitting watching Doctor Who and thought, I should write a quick blog about something that has been on my mind! Well, I have a lot of things on my mind. This is why I come across SOOOO scattered. Well, anyways, today's topic shall be the new television program "King of the Nerds."

     One day, I shall blog about the difference about nerds, geeks, dweebs and such. But, not today. Most of you know that I married a nerd. An IT guy that was giddy as a school girl when he bought his Dungeons and Dragons Red Box. The man who is a walking encyclopedia of Marvel Comics. The man that loved Abe Sapian before the movie "Hellboy" came out. I could go on and on. While watching "Big Bang Theory" last night, TBS aired another commercial for "King of the Nerds." It is a reality show that puts "nerds" into a competition against each other to find out who is the biggest King of the Nerds. The contestants could all play cameos on BBT. But, we are afraid that it is just going to turn into a laugh at the nerds fest.

     Some people are far more vocal about their dislike. We have a friend who really went off on the subject. Nerd is the new cool. Those of us who wear the "nerd" title wear it proudly. I am a "newbie nerd." I have a lot of catching up to do. There are a lot of people that think just because you think Batman is cool and you have watched the 9th, 10th and 11th Doctors, they are a nerd. Alas, no. It takes far more than that. Going to Comic Cons don't make you a nerd. However, walking up to a no so well known actor or a comic book artist and going COMPLETELY fan-girl, that probably makes you a nerd. 

Another trend that has developed is the "sexy nerd girl." There are some of the girls that really know there stuff and they are really sexy. But, just throwing on some nerdy glasses and a Star Wars shirt does not make you a nerd. There is currently a blond little thing that has amused my husband immensely. She has a few geeky tattoos and strips. She just doesn't get why people don't think she is sexy. Well, to start with, her tattoos are all scattered around and it bugs us. Seriously, if you are getting tattoos in a central area, they should work together. 

     Well, it's just about time to head out to pick Jerry up from work. So, I better wrap this up. Good night all. And, may the Tardis one day land in your back yard.

Only one... So far...

I had my first meltdown of the holiday. Sarah was born 2 weeks before Christmas. And, we had the honor of her being Baby Jesus in the Christmas pageant. You can ask most mothers who have delivered a baby near the holiday, and they will tell you that they feel a certain connection to Mary. And, every time I hear people talk about Christ as an infant I see Sarah in the manger. Ty was excited to get to follow after her sister in playing Jesus. So, I tried to not cry as the congregation sang "Away in a Manger." I almost always sing at the top of my lungs. But, I fought back tears most of the song. I couldn't even form the words with my mouth. Luckily, Jerry had come to help with the program. And, he followed me back to get Ty situated after the program. We managed to get around to the back out of site to cry. Jerry held me while I got it out of my system.


Song of Praise: The Magnificat


46 And Mary said,


“My soul magnifies the Lord,

47 and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

48 for he has looked on the humble estate of his servant.

For behold, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

49 for he who is mighty has done great things for me,

and holy is his name.

50 And his mercy is for those who fear him

from generation to generation.

51 He has shown strength with his arm;

he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts;

52 he has brought down the mighty from their thrones

and exalted those of humble estate;

53 he has filled the hungry with good things,

and the rich he has sent away empty.

54 He has helped his servant Israel,

in remembrance of his mercy,

55 as he spoke to our fathers,

to Abraham and to his offspring forever.”