A Little Me Time

I have not blogged in a good while. Shoot, I haven't written anything in a while. Ya know why? Because, I am paranoid that people will think that I am a narcissist and a copy cat.

There, I said it. Somehow I have it in my head that by writing something and posting it on the Internet, I am being self-centered for thinking that someone would actually want to read it. Why do I think like this!? I love to read other people's blogs, and I don't think that they are self-centered.

Why do I have it in my head that it is great that other people can be boisterous and confident in who they are and share it with the world? I will cheer them on in the endeavors in subject areas that I am somewhat skilled in. But, then feel lost and lonely because they are most certainly going to exceed my skill level and leave me behind. I want to help and be involved in my friends lives. But, I just know that I am a more of a nuisance that anything and they are better off without me around. Even my husband.

I know that I talk incessantly. And, two thirds of the time I regret what I have just said. So, it is easier to stay away and not say anything.

I make plans and have dreams that fall through a lot. So, I get mad at myself for telling anyone about them. Because I feel like I have let them down, too.

I am my own worst critic. I need to work on it. A lot. (I can hear my husband yelling, "Amen!" from here.)

But, I started my blog because I wanted to keep a journal. But, I am terribly about misplacing notebooks and such. I figured I can't lose the Internet. I mean, if anyone could it would be me. But, still. So, I am making it a point to write for me. And, if people want to follow along, all the better. But, fair warning. There will be chickens. Lots of chickens.

Psssttt... on the subject of losing the Internet, here's a funny from one of my favorite shows, The IT Crowd.

Always Look on the Bright Side of Life

So, here I sit in a dress and make-up, running through the plans for the afternoon in my head, wondering if I can squeeze in a trip through the carwash. Leave work, pick up the corsage, go by the house to change shoes and tend to chickens (and shave the spot on my knee that I missed this morning), get Mr. J., fill up on gas, and head to Anson.

My son has 8^th grade banquet tonight. It’s like a mini-prom. There is a dinner, awards, video montage of the kids’ pictures from when they were babies until now; they actually come in escorting their dates and everything. They do portraits and IHOP after the banquet. It is a lot of fun.

I have one worry. And, it’s not about the kids, not the dance, not getting everything done. I worry that I will spend more time remembering his sister than focusing on him. And, that is not OK.

Sarah's 8th Grade Banquet photo on my work computer

I am so terribly proud of the young man he is becoming. And, he knows it. I make a point to make sure he knows without coddling him. And, he expects us to think about his sister and talk about her. But, this is about him. Sarah’s 8^th grade banquet was one of the last school functions she had. There will be awards ceremonies and he will start high school.

Then, *gulp* then there will not be any more memories of “When Sarah did it…”. He will have passed her. In October, he will be older than she was when she died. This year is going to be awkward and, hard.

But, on the upside, Ty gets to start on his own road without having to follow his sister. And, she was a big act to follow. I am actually excited about high school and the possibilities for my son. So, here’s to fresh starts and bright futures!

Ponderings on Easter

Since Mr. J was under the weather Easter morning, we did not attend a worship service. Well, not in person. We did get to watch an amazing service on the television. It was a Catholic service out of Buffalo (We assume New York.) Jerry was raised Catholic and has been told he has family in Buffalo, NY. So we thought that was pretty cool. I wish we could go there sometime. They have a very eclectic congregation, speaking several languages. The building itself had the perfect amount of adornment without looking as though all of the money was spent on it. It was nice to be able to ask Jerry questions right then. I am terrible about remembering what to ask later.

 

The sermon portion of the service was my favorite. He spoke about the priorities of Easter Sunday. He pointed out that we, as people, seem to place more and more importance on the things we spend money on for the holiday than why we are celebrating it to start with. The clothes, the candy, the meal… it’s great as long as we keep the memory of Christ’s resurrection first and foremost. The last thing he said was, “And, enjoy those chocolate bunnies.” with a smile on his face.

 

This sparked a conversation between Jerry and I. I was telling him that I don’t remember if someone told me this as a child, or if it is something I pondered on my own, but for me, Easter is not just a celebration of Christ coming back. It is a fresh start. This is where we get to start the year, again. To me, the Easter outfit isn’t just for the one day. I always saw it as a traditionally adding a worship worthy garment to refresh the wardrobe. It is a way of doing the best we can to put on our best when we go to praise and worship.

 

We, well I, have decided that we shall follow what many others do and plant the gardens on the Saturday of Easter weekend each year. This year, I spent the time planting singing hymns and focusing on God’s blessings while putting out plants. That includes the sprinkles that were falling on my back as I was hurrying to put out flower seeds and sweeping the sidewalks.

 

So, this being a spring-board for the rest of our year physically, emotionally, mentally and physically, it is a great time for us to look at the direction we are going in. So, much prayer will be taking place. And, just so you know, I pray for all of you. I pray that God will pour his peace and love on everyone that I interact with, both in person and through more modern methods, on a regular basis. That being said, may God be with you and heap his blessings on you and yours this spring.

I'm a Little Country... I'm a Little Rock and Roll...

At 6:42 this morning, I found myself backing out of my driveway so that I could attend Muffins with Moms at my son’s school. His school is 25 miles or so away from where I live now. I used to live in that town. But, when I left his father, I moved back home. Well, I went to go spend the time before school with my son, baked goods and juice. It was really nice. 
 
He started pointing out mothers to me, telling who their children are. Then he says, “If you want to know who anyone is, just ask me.” I informed him I was fine. But, thank you for offering. He goes to a very small school. But, there were a lot of the moms I did not know. There were however teachers and moms that I have known for years. But, it was still a reminder how much things have changed. And, some things have come back around full circle.
 
I made the same drive at the same time of day that I made for nearly 7 years, this morning. Back before I left my husband. Back before I moved to Abilene. Back before I lost a child. Back before I lost myself.
 
 I am finally starting to pull myself together. And, I don’t mean emotionally. The knee-jerk reaction when getting the divorce was to turn away from anything in my part of my life. Anything to do with the country and farming. I didn’t listen to any country music for months, except for when my so would beg.
 
It sounds like I had never had any experience with anything country or western except while married. But, that is not true. I was raised in a fairly eclectic family. My grandfather was a rodeo cowboy and a farm hand. My grandmother grew up picking cotton. And, my other grandparents had chickens and gardens. They farmed, too. I remember going back my grandmother’s family home and meeting the turkeys. It wasn’t pretty. They raised them to sell. They opened the doors to a huge barn full of them. They were eye high to me. Traumatized is not a strong enough word.
Well, anyway, back on track. Back around Christmas, Mr. J (aka my Hubs) bought a pair of cowboy boots. He had been wanting a new pair for a good while and found some her really liked. And, since he is very particular about the style he likes, I told him, “Sure, go ahead.” But, on the inside, I was very uncomfortable. The last time I had shopped for men’s boots was with my ex-husband. And, I try really hard not to compare them. But, it happens. Both good and bad. And, even though I dated many men that wore boots, it was still somehow tied to my first message and awkward. But, I was NOT going to tell him that.
 
Another thing from when I was married originally was that we raised chickens. I taught first grade one year. It was in the small town where my son still lives. Every year the extension agent would work with the first classes and they incubate and hatch chicks. It was a lot of fun. Except for the last few chicks that just did not make it. Luckily, we found them before the students came in that morning. But, I digress. My children also participated in the activity as first graders. Somewhere along the way, my ex decided that we should get chickens. I gained so much enjoyment from them. I loved gathering eggs and tending to them. Even though I grumbled about it.
 
Well, recently, friends had mentioned they wanted chickens. And, after some checking, I could have them in town. As long as they aren’t too noisy, I would be good. (Our neighborhood sounds like a zoo as it is. And, it isn’t just our house.) So, 2 batches of chicks and 4 ducklings later, I have come to realize that I really am a bit of a country girl. I even want goats, again and a donkey. Those will require moving, in time.
 
I have started to separate out what parts of me were trying to be a good wife and what parts were me being genuinely happy. I will take a while. But, I finally feel like I am starting to feel like I am getting my feet underneath me. And, part of reassembling those pieces of me I left scattered everywhere has been finding which pieces are truly mine. And, surprisingly, for me, some of those pieces are from the country.
 
And, I can finally admit how good those boots look on Mr. J.

 

I Hate April Fool's Day.

There is a reason that I don’t enjoy April Fool’s Day. It is the same reason that I do not enjoy much stand-up comedy. I do not enjoy people being made fun of. And, when it comes down to it that is what it amounts to. April Fool’s jokes end up making people feel unintelligent. Most stand-up comedians have acts that revolve around of poking fun at themselves or someone else. There is a fine line between mockery and imitation. I am not saying that I do not on occasion do it myself. But, I always feel guilty when I do.

And, as a friend posted this morning, we try to instill honesty in our children. Well, except for this one day. Today it’s ok to lie your pants off. As an adult, we understand what is intended to be a joke and what is not. Kids do not, always. We need to set better examples.

And, there is a meme going around about not telling people that you are pregnant when you aren’t. Yes, people take things too seriously and personally at times. But, as a woman who is having a really hard time with the fact that she can’t and shouldn’t have a baby, just stop it. It’s not a subject to joke about. Also, it is terribly unoriginal. If you are going to pull a prank today, at least be original.

I hate to feel stupid. Ridicule cuts me to the bone and I know I am not the only one that feels that way. So, I will take a pass on this holiday, thank you very much.

The Day Has Finally Come

One of the things that I was looking to happen as time went on was that there would be moments when Sarah would slip my mind. When she would no longer be on my mind constantly.

I am finally there.

Don't get me wrong. I have not forgot her. She is always there. Always at the back of my mind. But, she has stepped back and let me move forward.

But, then every once in a while, out of the blue, it hits me out of the blue.

I had a baby that grew into a beautiful young lady. And, she is not here anymore. And, she is not coming back. I should be able to call her. I should be able to reach out to her. But, I can't.

Then, there are tears and panic attacks.

Afterwards, I compose myself and go on about my day.

A dear friend should be holding her baby right now. But, she is not because her baby did not make it full term.

My heart is hurting.

For her and for me. I hate that other people can understand what I am going through. It kills me to know that there are other people out there that have lost their babies, whether they be infant or adult.

At the same time, it is comforting to not be along. 

I Just Can't Shut Up

I talk a lot. Or, I don't talk at all. Generally, if I am in a group of people I know and like, I will talk non stop until I leave. Them spend the next two days wishing I had just kept my mouth shut. No one has ever said anything too ugly about it. At least not to my face, or to someone that would tell me. If anything has been said, it was with a genuine smile and in a very good nature.

When I don't talk, I am probably regretting all of the talking from a few days before. Or, something is really bothering me. And, it usually stems from my self-deprecating attitude. 

I had a friend comment that they were surprised that I am terrified that people really see me like I see myself. Lazy, all talk, fat, dumb, selfish, self-centered and unworthy. I am working on getting past it.

(Fair warning, to those that know me, if I ever get past it, I will probably just talk even more.)

Some people see those of us that have self esteem issues as "fishing for compliments." Sometimes it's accurate. More than often not. Just knowing your enough is all we strive for. But, somehow we just don't see it.

So, on behalf of all of us overly talkative, yet terribly anxious types out there. Be kind. Just smile and nod. We know we can come across as a bit anxious and obnoxious. But, we are working on it.