Perspective or Watching My Husband Summersault Down A Cliff

Top of our cliff looking down

As a preface to this post, it is important to note that my family and I lived in a house situated directly adjacent to a cliff.  And not the bottom of said cliff, at the top of this cliff. I was initially hesitant about buying a property that included a cliff but I really grew to appreciate it. It came with great views and was a great place to chuck yard debris.  

In August 2017, on one of the hottest days of the year, I walked out in the backyard and approached the edge of the cliff to see my husband, Aaron, disappearing over the edge hanging on to a rope with a hastily tied knot.  The knot promptly untied and he went arse over tip down the side.  As he was summersaulting down the side of the cliff I said "I thought that might happen."  Simultaneously, he was fearing for his life and wondering why I was so nonchalant about his demise.  

My lack of concern was really adding insult to injury because he had spent the day dealing with backed up plumbing.  In addition to a cliff, our home also had a plumbing system with a habit of flooding the basement bathroom (you can read about our plumbing saga).

The attempted climb down the cliff was in pursuit of our Shop Vac, which he had dropped when attempting to dump the water he had vacuumed up dealing with the plumbing fiasco.  

So, Aaron is contemplating his imminent death after a day of vacuuming toilet water from the bathroom for roughly the 249th time, he is at least happy that he won't be dealing with plumbing ever again.  He is, however, very miffed that I didn't express any alarm.  

Before you assume my lack of alarm was because I was expecting to cash in on his life insurance, let me explain.  I had something that my poor husband was lacking.  That something was perspective.  I could see very clearly that he was going to do a complete backward summersault and then come to a stop on a ledge with a cushy tangle of English Ivy and a nice stump acting as a railing. (His landing was a little sideways, so I gave him a 9.5!)

Creek at the bottom of the cliff.

Once he stopped rolling and regained his composure, he located the Shop Vac and three of its four wheels.  The fourth wheel was lost forever more to the English Ivy.  He carefully picked the rest of the way down, walked across the bottom of our property and climbed up the trail we had on the other side of our cliff.  He appeared just in time to be introduced to the plumber who had recently arrived to assess the situation. 

The plumber was very alarmed to learn Aaron had just fallen down a cliff and was also confused by my lack of alarm.  The plumber also lacked perspective. He calmed down when I explained about the soft landing.

Several hours later, it was my turn to be panicked.  We were luxuriating in the shower with our fully functioning plumbing when my husband said "Look at what I found in my butt, honey!"  I was completely lacking in perspective because I wasn't wearing my glasses and all I could see was a darkish blob. My initial response was some level of alarm, after all, nothing good comes out of someone's hind end!   My alarm dissipated when I realized that he had a stick and a couple leaves, which he had picked up during his tumbling exercise.   

Our perspective is one of the keys to understanding emotional reactions.  I had zero panic about Aaron's fall because I could see from my vantage point at the top of the cliff that he was going to have a soft landing after a short tumble.  Aaron experienced complete panic because he was the one tumbling down the side of a cliff.  The plumber had mild panic hearing about it because it sounded terrible but Aaron was not obviously injured. 

When feeling panicked, or anxious, or overwhelmed, etc., checking your perspective can shift your emotional experience. Getting a new perspective on your situation isn't always easy but is certainly more feasible than mid-summersault down a cliff!  

    

Tipped Straws

We were in the car after making it through a Taco Bell drive through.

My sweety

I know, gross.  But my husband had been sick and when he is sick he wants to eat the grossest, greasiest stuff he can get his hands on. 

I didn't part take of this feast because I have allergies, and Taco Bell grosses me out too much anyhow.

We got back on the freeway, heading home after a trip to the Emergency Department to ensure that he didn't have appendicitis.  He didn't, he had some horrible intestinal virus that did a convincing job of acting like appendicitis.

As we drove along, he tipped the straw of the iced tea towards my mouth so that I could have a slurp. 

With that small movement, much of my stress faded away and I felt completely loved. 

It has been a tough run the last few months.

Without going into excruciating detail, we have had the loss of beloved pets, a sick & mentally ill family member who has been a danger to self and others, some work related crises, my daughter started middle school, family conflict and etc.

Oh, and all this was happening with Lyme Disease and our treatment ever present in the background.

It has really sucked. 

But what has made the sucking bearable is the small things like a straw tipped towards my mouth.

Napping with the critters on a Saturday afternoon.
Can you find all 4?

Or laughing hysterically when we really didn't have any business laughing.

Or napping with the dogs and cats on a rainy afternoon. 

So very many things can go wrong all at once, it is easy to lose perspective.

It is easy to focus on all the things that are totally going wrong versus the things that are totally going right. 

Certainly, all the things going wrong needed some attending to.

But having that as my primary focus would have crushed me. 

I could be flattened by depression and anxiety right now.

I continue to get up every morning and enjoy my life because I remember that my life is more than the stresses, the pressures and the responsibilities. 

I certainly don't enjoy every moment of my life, because like I said, we have had some serious sucking around here.  And, sadly, there are somethings that are unresolved and I am fairly certain will create more sucking. 

However, I do very much enjoy my life because I remember all the parts that make up my life and while I am aware of all that sucks, it is not my focus all the time. 

So find your tipped straws people. They are there, I promise. 

Ju-ju Bee: The Cat That Ignored Me

I had to get a selfie to prove she
was paying attention to me!

I have a cat named Ju-ju Bee.  She is rather elusive to tell you the truth.  I have fewer pictures of her than all my other animals, including the chinchilla, who is nocturnal!  

Despite having been born in my closet, she has spent most of her 4 years of life ignoring me and all the other human members of our family.

She also mostly ignores her brother, Blizzy Boy.  

Ju-ju loves our St. Bernard the best.  She spends lots of time grooming Kona's face and rubbing her face all over Kona's face. She also occasionally naps with Kona. 

But people, nada.  Nothing. Zero. Zilch.  

Ju-Ju's bff Kona

She really could care less.

Well, unless she is out of food. When she is out of food she meows and looks at me pointedly.  

Otherwise, I and the rest of the family are non-entities.  

Until a few months ago when she started visiting me when I was eating breakfast.  She would sit on the table so I could pet her with one hand while I ate with the other.

Luckily, I am sort of ambidextrous. I can wield a spoon with my right hand while petting a cat with my left.   

So far I haven't attempted to eat the cat or pet my oatmeal.  

I see papers, I must sits!

A couple nights ago I was working on a project at the kitchen table and she did the typical cat thing-  she sat on my papers.  

This has literally never happened before.  

And she was purring and head-butting me. I've only heard her purr a few times.  Her brother is a constant purr machine.  He purrs so intensely that he drools.    

I seriously don't get it.  

If she was a person with such a drastic personality change I'd suspect drug use or a head injury.  

She's a cat though, and I am pretty sure I don't have some secret stash of cat nip in the house.  

So far she continues to ignore the rest of the family, human or canine.  

She graces me with her presence at breakfast and then spends the rest of the day doing important cat things.  

I'm curious to see if she progresses to sitting on my lap, or let's not get hysterical, sit by me on the couch.  

She is really the cattiest of cats I have ever known!  

Never a dull moment around here.  Just when I think I have stuff figured out, the Universe is like "Nope!  Just for funsies, Ju-ju is now going to pay attention to you! Hahahaha!!"  

I'll just consider it a gift from the Universe and be grateful there is never a boring moment around here!  

Little Miss Mini-Me Perfectionist

I used to think that perfectionism was made, not born.

Then I had my daughter.

She was a born perfectionist.

I know this to be true because she started doing perfectionist type things before she even had a vocabulary.

My earliest evidence of this was when she was approximately 4 months old.

We were introducing her to rice cereal and I saw her little eyes following my hand as I filled the spoon with cereal and sent it to her mouth.

She grabbed the spoon, attempted to get some of the rice cereal and direct it to her mouth.

This was a spectacular failure, of course because she had the hand-eye coordination and gross motor control on of a 4 month old infant.

She then scrunched her eyes shut and proceeded to scream with all her might.

Trying solid food for the first time, this was right
before she tried to do it by herself.  

The kid was pissed that she could not do this by herself and had no concept that this was beyond her current capabilities.  

You might think it is a bit of stretch to describe an infant as a perfectionist but I don't know what else to call someone who has unreasonably high expectations and is upset when they can't meet their expectations.  

I'd already been undoing my own perfectionist tendencies but when I saw that, I really doubled down. I didn't want to reinforce anything with my own behavior.

When she got older, my husband and I started coaching her on establishing reasonable expectations, learning from mistakes and not taking failure at a task to heart.

That might be a bit much for a toddler, but having been a perfectionist my entire life, I could see the writing on the wall.

We did much of our coaching via Legos because my daughter has always loved building with Legos.  She would have a vision of what she wanted to construct and set out to complete it.   

If everything went smoothly, then no problem.  

If not, then we would commence coaching.  She'd say things like "I can't ever get it right" or "I'm not good a this" or "This is too hard for me."  

We'd say things like "That's not true, you just made an amazing car yesterday" or "You are trying a new technique, it takes some time to learn" or "Trying something new is hard at first, it will get easier if you keep at it."  

We emphasized the importance of understanding that people are not immediately good at everything, that learning is not always smooth and easy, and mistakes just highlight where we need to learn more. 

We also spent a lot of time emphasizing that she learned and grew at a different rate than her friends, so comparing herself to their progress was not super helpful.

There were a lot of melt-downs, mostly on her part but occasionally me too.

It is incredibly frustrating when your child refuses to do something, say tying her shoes, believing they are incapable, when you know for a fact shoe tying is a skill she can learn.  

And, I am a very goal-directed person, so it is really, really, hard for me to re-route.  I just want to push her through it.  

So, per usual, I had to do my own personal growth.  

I don't know about you, but having a kid has pushed me to grow as a human more than any other endeavor, except possibly marriage!

So, I practiced patience, and if you ask my mother, she will tell you that is not my strong suit.

And I practiced patience some more, and if you ask the rest of my family they would concur with my mother.  

While I was practicing patience, we continued coaching our daughter.  Helping her learn that mistakes are a normal part of learning and managing her expectations seems to have paid off.

This was day 3 of riding lessons

She recently had two weeks of horseback riding lessons.  

Because it was an entirely new skill set, it was difficult for her.  She really struggled.

But rather than freaking out or quitting, which would have been her response a couple years ago, she used mistakes to direct her learning and was excited about making progress.  She was not focused on being perfect.    

It was such a joy to see.  

Perfectionism is hard to live with and the energy devoted to trying to be perfect is better used elsewhere.  

I'm excited to see her continued growth, which is one of my favorite parts of parenting. 

Also, I love horses, so I am not at all sad that she wants to continue with that activity! 

A Short Story About Plumbing

A short story about our plumbing: Not long after moving in our home 5 1/2 years ago, the plumbing backed up and flooded part of the downstairs. 

Plumber showed up- "probably tree roots, blah, blah blah. Use this stuff." We paid $$$. 

Plumbing backed up again, this time some other explanation,"blah blah blah." $$$. 

Backed up again. "Blah blah blah" $$$. 

The new, fully functional drain pipe.

My husband, Aaron tries to fix it himself but the drain snake isn't long enough. 

Plumber, "blah, blah, blah," $$$. 

Aaron decides enough is enough and buys an 80 FOOT drain snake. Clears the drain himself several times. 

Eventually surmises that the drain snake is clearing a blockage so far down the pipe that it is in the city's pipe. 

Call out the city- they decide, "Nope, it your problem." 

Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

Had the city out a few more times. 

Had a few more plumbers. 

One plumber tells us the main drain pipe out of the house has a sag that is causing everything to back up. It will cost approximately $5000 to fix. 

This was last summer. We were way too overwhelmed with the symptoms Lyme Disease & treatment to deal with it. So we procrastinated. 

When he felt well enough a few weeks ago, Aaron started to dig out the pipe. We were planning on getting it done and trying to figure out how to do it inexpensively. We weren't sure how to meet those two goals, recognizing that Aaron operates at about 50% capacity most of the time. 

This morning- 71 minutes before my alarm was supposed to go off, the city rang the door bell and informed us that we couldn't use our water because they were fixing their part of the sewer system. 

THE PART THEY HAVE SAID ALL ALONG WASN'T BROKEN AND INSISTED THAT IT WAS OUR PROBLEM!! Turns out their part (a concrete pipe) WAS TOTALLY CRUSHED so of course stuff eventually built up and backed up into the downstairs of our house. 

I'm guessing they won't be paying for us to remodel the downstairs bathroom. 

The story could stop here... I could just marinate in irritation that we dealt with the problem for 5 1/2 years and were about spend a ton of money on something that wouldn't fix the problem.

Or...

I can reframe, which is often called "Looking on the bright side." 

I prefer to use the term reframe because sometimes people get irritated when you tell them to look on the bright side.

So, the reframe for this situation that this is one time procrastination paid off and we don't have to scrape together $5000!

Cue celebration!  Now the time and energy we would have to devote to this problem can be devoted to something else.

Hopefully, that means we will finally build a tree house for my daughter, which is another thing that has been pending for 5 1/2 years!  

Now I can marinate in relief and excitement, which is so much better!

Back to Normal

"We'll get back to normal," I tell myself.  

"Our life won't be like this forever, we will have our normal life again," I reassure myself as we have gone through treatment for Lyme Disease.  

I am two years and two months into my treatment.  My husband is one year and eight months into his treatment.  

We weren't well before our diagnoses and were gradually getting worse, so a diagnosis was a relief.  

But treatment also made our symptoms, and therefore our functioning, worse.  

The process of killing off the bacteria that causes Lyme Disease really wreaks havoc on the body.  In the short term this made everything worse.  

So, I kept telling myself we would be back to normal when we were done with treatment.  

However, as I am feeling better and approaching the end of my treatment, I realize that we won't be getting back to normal.  

The life we had before Lyme has been erased.  The passage of time alone is enough to make our lives different.

However, the consequences of treatment, both good and bad ensure that the old normal will never be had again.  

Instead we will be developing a new normal.  

And so it is for all of life's changes.  

The new normal could be an improvement or not, depending on how we navigate the events leading to the new normal.

In our case, we have developed a life that includes only the essentials.  Energy is a precious resource and we learned to use it on the important things.  Non-essential activities fell by the wayside.  

If it was something we loved, we hung on to it as much as possible.  If it wasn't necessary or wanted, it was tossed.  

Clothing that required special handling? Gone.

Folding underwear?  Not any more.

Obsessing about the house and scrubbing the tile with a toothbrush? To the curb.  

Unnecessary social activities?  100% out.  

Also, other people's poor planning or lousy choices are no longer our emergency.  

I used to have a huge problem bailing family members out of various crises.  Not so much anymore.  I'm still tempted but if no one is dying and they are experiencing the consequences of their actions, I'm out.    

I've had the opportunity to become more balanced in my approach to life.  I have more reasonable expectations and I am less of a perfectionist.  I've also learned to rest.  Being idle was nearly impossible for me at the start of this process.  I am so much better at just enjoying life.    

My husband has the opportunity to discover interests and parts of himself he wasn't able to explore in his younger years.  He has realized that he enjoys photography and being outdoors.  He has also realized that he has a tendency to run himself into the ground.  Being sick has created an opportunity for him to learn to take care of himself, to say no and respect his limitations.  

And, that is the thing.  Every event in our lives is an opportunity.  We can use it to grow or we can simply suffer.  

It is all in how we look at it.  

My initial mindset was "Why me?"  It quickly became evident that the "why me?" mindset wasn't helpful.

What was helpful was asking "What is essential? What can go?  What opportunities are here for me to be a better person? What can I learn?  What strategy can I try? Do I have reasonable expectations? Do I need to ask for help?  Do I need to rest?"

That approach got me through the worst of the symptoms and will help me develop a new normal.  

I'm excited to learn more about our new normal as we complete our treatment.  

Wine Glasses & Perfectionists

I was at my sister-in-law's house the other day ago.

It is always fun to go over there because she usually feeds us and any day I don't have to be responsible for dinner is a good day.

Also, my niece and nephew are teenagers who seem to really enjoy entertaining my daughter, so I actually get to engage in adult conversation without interruption!

As a side note, I heard the phrase, "Are you part of this conversation?" frequently as a child.  So, whatever hassle my parents had to endure in raising a nosy little girl has now come full circle.

As I was standing in my sister-in-law's kitchen eating food she provided, having uninterrupted adult conversations, I noticed a set of wine glasses.

They were very pretty, with sparkly glass. The stems had copper wire wound around them with little stones threaded on the copper.

They caught my eye and I said "Hey, Stace, I like your wine glasses."

She looked at me and laughed.

Then I said, "Wait! Did I make those? I think I made those!"

After a bit more laughter she said "Yes you made those for me."

Huh.

After a moment's reflection I noted, "I like my stuff a lot more when I don't know it is mine."

Because perfectionism.

I am a perfectionist in recovery.

Perfectionists are people who have high expectations of themselves (and often others,too) and strive for flawlessness.

I know I don't need to say this but perfectionism is a recipe for disaster.

Perfection is not an option in our topsy-turvy world.  Good enough is a more appropriate mantra.

Perfectionism renders all outcome as lacking, all effort as below standards.

It is a fast way to depression and anxiety, actually.

While I have made vast improvements in having realistic expectations of myself and focusing on good enough, my inner perfectionist does sneak in and start issuing orders.

Seeing the wine glasses for what they really are, rather than through my perfectionist eyes, serves as a good reminder that perfectionism is a distorted way of looking at the world, where nothing is good enough.

When, in reality, everything is good enough.

Solving the Problem of January

Candles help create hygge.

HOO-gah.

Not hoo-RAH, the traditional greeting for Marines.

And not Ah-CHOO, the sound of sneezing,

Or ooh-GAH, like those old-fashioned car horns.

HOO-gah.

Which is actually spelled hygge.

If you are confused about how the sound HOO-gah can come from the word hygge, do not despair.

Hygge is a Danish word.

I don't speak Danish but I am taking their word.  I hope Denmark doesn't mind.

There isn't a direct translation, it is one of these words that are culturally specific.

Like, I imagine that it is hard to translate "groovy" to Japanese or "fleek" into Swahili.

Despite the translation difficulties hygge is my key to solving the problem of January.

January can be pretty but it is usually grey & dreary.  

The problem of January, is of course, that is is dreary, cold, with little sunlight and no holidays to brighten things up.

I historically despise January.

January historically despises me right back.

Usually it gives me a major depressive episode.  Or at least a minor one.  But depression. Depression is always part of the package.

February isn't great either but it is shorter and also contains Valentine's Day. That usually gives me a little bit of extra pep to survive until spring.

January, though, it has got nothing.

Enter hygge.

Hygge is a feeling of contentment and well-being.

Hygge is generated from focusing on simple pleasures such as feeling cozy when it is cold outside.  Or the enjoyment you get from fuzzy socks and warm drinks.

Or the enjoyment you get from watching a fire or holding a purring cat.

Candles also feature prominently in hygge.

One article I read said that Denmark has the most candles per capita in the world.

I suppose if you are going to have a world record for something, it might as well be something nice like candles.

Unlike Australia, which I think has the greatest number of deadly creatures per square mile or some such thing.

Hygge also includes a feeling of togetherness and conviviality.

Conviviality is not a regular part of my vocabulary either but I'm taking this word too.

It describes a friendly and enjoyable atmosphere or feeling.

January can't compete with hygge.

It just crumbles under the contentment and togetherness.

My version of hygge is to create a warm, cozy home environment focusing on time with my family and creating a sense of authentic togetherness.

Hygge is celebrating our family and this life we built together.

With lots and lots of tea and fuzzy socks.

Resolutions

Last year, my husband resolved "to eat more nachos."

He totally crushed that goal.  I think he had nachos about 100 days out of the year.

I've never been too big on resolutions because I figure I should be learning and growing as life presents me opportunities.

Although, I totally get that having a specific time to identify areas of needed growth is helpful.

In recent years I've made resolutions in 2005 and 2012.

It was the same for both years.  I resolved to "Grab the bull by the horns" in whatever form that took.

In the case of 2005, I left my first husband, fell in love, took my licensing exam and moved in with my new boyfriend.  (you can read a bit more about that here).

In the case of 2012, my current husband and I got legally separated so that we could buy a house (I wrote about that here), I started my own private practice, our daughter started Kindergarten and we moved into a new home.

It is kind of a nuclear resolution.

It has to pass through the chain of command in my psyche before the launch codes are released.

2017 is not the year for a nuclear response.

2017 is reserved for my husband and I being cured of Lyme Disease.  We're making progress and I am hopeful that by this time next year we will be healthy.

My 9 1/2 year old daughter, on the other hand, loves resolutions.

On New Year's Eve she asked us what our resolutions were.

This year his goal is to play with his virtual reality video gaming system more.

He'll crush that one too!

I decided that I would like to do more yoga, more art and be more patient.  I figure those are achievable even given our current limitations.

Also, my limitations give me LOTS of opportunities to be patient!

This is not my strong suit.  I've been known to stomp my foot due to impatience.  As and adult. In Target.

My daughter, with no prompting from either of her parents said "I want to be more kind and become a more helpful person."

!!

My mom with with us as well and I can't remember if she had a resolution.  My daughter swears that she said her goal was "to eat more corn tortillas."

I don't think this is accurate but it is totally achievable.

And all the New Year's resolution "experts" say that you're more likely to successful with realistic goals.

So, there's that.

Here's to a new year and a fresh start!

View of the End

I've lived through some large projects.

Like getting my doctorate.

That took 5 years after I got my bachelor's degree.

I knew the classes I needed to take, the number of clinical hours required and the steps to write my dissertation.

It was all mapped out and I could see older students complete the steps I was headed towards.

It was a pretty long time but I could see the end the entire time.

I've lived through an intense physical ordeal.

My pregnancy.

I hate to constantly be bringing that up but it was a very defining event that tested my husband and I to our cores.

That was 9 months.

I knew what to expect for each trimester, knew the approximate stage of development of my baby and knew the tasks we needed to complete before I gave birth to our daughter.

Nine months is a long time to be nauseated and vomiting but it really wasn't all that long.

I could see the end the entire time.

I've met major financial goals.

We went deeply into debt during my pregnancy.

Our choices were to pay off the debt or go bankrupt.

We opted to pay off the debt and it took 4 years.

I knew what our monthly payments were going to be, I knew the things we would have to go without and how much we would have to work.

I could see the end the entire time.

I've even battled major depression, many, many times.

More times than I can remember, actually.

There are many unknowns with mental health treatment you would think I wouldn't have any sense of when I would feel better.

My depressive episodes mostly showed up in winter and were gone by spring.

I always knew if I could make it to my birthday in April, everything would be okay.

Even if I had a depressive episode that didn't fit the pattern, I always knew it would go away.

I always had ways to ease the burden; medication, therapy, and gardening.  

I could even see the end of my major depressive episodes.

But now,  we are in the midst of all this Lyme treatment.

There is no map, there are no people who have had the same treatment plan, and there are no timelines.

Everyone with this disease responds very differently, so the treatment plan and the length of treatment evolve as you go along.

I despise the lack of a definite series of steps or timeline.

I cannot see the end of this.  It is there, somewhere, murky and in the future.

I'd rather know that this was going to take 5 years with a predictable end point, than have a bunch of unknowns for 3 years.

I find security in the known.

Most people do.  Humans don't generally appreciate the unknown.

I've had many clients who would rather stick with an uncomfortable known that try for the possibility of a better life because the unknown is so terrifying.

Only by walking with them into the unknown are they willing to give something new a try.

I've walked the path of healing with many people and can assure another client that I have seen good things happen.

I ask them to have faith in me and in the process that it will be worth it in the end.

And now, here I am walking the path of healing with no end in sight.

Photo taken by S. Clark

I have to have faith that there is an end even if I can't see it.

Faith is not my best skill.

I'm more of a see it, touch it, test it kind of girl.

Life has an amazing way of giving me an opportunity to learn skills that I am lacking.

Which is what I tell myself when I am dealing with something I don't want to do!

That, and I often remind myself of a quote from Elizabeth Kublar Ross,

“The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen.”

I am a beautiful person in the making.

Thank you life.

No Longer A Fail

A text popped up on my phone last Monday night.  

At first I thought it was from a client and was worried about a potential crisis.

Then I saw it was Dee, my naturopath, delivering the results of my daughter's most recent lab work.  

I thought of my pregnancy for a moment as I steeled myself for the contents of the text.

I've always felt that my body failed me during my pregnancy.  

Baby daughter about 3 months old

As I have written about in the past, I had Hyperemesis Gravidarum (HG), which is a severe form of nausea and vomiting in pregnancy. It was unrelenting.  I lost 7% of my body weight and became malnourished.

I was severely ill and confined to my bed for 5 months.  When I got on medication I was able to function at about 50% capacity until my daughter was born.  

When I was diagnosed with Lyme Disease, I learned that there was a possibility that my daughter might have gotten the disease causing bacteria from me in utero or via breast milk.  

And it wasn't a slim possibility either.  It was a 50/50 chance.

Those are not gambling odds in my mind.

Have I mentioned I'm not much of a gambler?

I'm really not.  

I've been so afraid that she would have this disease.  

My husband has it and he probably got it from me.

Our girl child with her dogs.  

The thought that I might have also given it to my daughter has weighed on me.

Today I found out that my body did not fail my daughter.  

It failed me.  

But my body did not fail my daughter.

My body kept the bacteria from her and gave her only the antibodies needed to fight against the disease.

And now, I can forgive my body for falling apart so horribly.

Until this very moment, I didn't even know I bore a grudge against my body.

I thought that we were square, my body and I.  I was horribly ill but I had a healthy baby.  

What more could I ask for?

Peace.

Evidently, I've been really mad at the physical side of myself for the last 9 1/2 years and lacking a sense of peaceful resolutation.  

Hello tears of gratitude and realization.  

Let me just say I would much rather endure HG than have my daughter endure Lyme Disease and the negative outcomes associated with it.

So, thank you body for managing to protect my daughter from Lyme while also growing a healthy baby when I was malnourished and incapacitated.        

I don't know how I managed to pull that off but I am eternally grateful.  

Photo of my daughter and I
Taken by my cousin April Albright

Grandpa Howard and the Meaning of Family

He leaned toward the center of the table with smiling blue eyes and said "You know you're not really my granddaughter, right?"

We were in the church basement for potluck and I paused eating my Jello salad.

"Yes." I said.

He continued, "We have different last names but no one pays attention to it and it doesn't matter."

My grandpa smiled and I returned my attention to the Jello Salad.  It had mini-marshmallows and Cool Whip; it was the highlight of potluck. As a smallish girl of 5 or 6 years old, mini-marshmallows took the sting out of getting up early and going to church.

Grandpa Howard was my grandpa by marriage.  My grandma's first husband, my dad's biological father, died in a hunting accident when my dad was around 4 years old.  Grandma Lois was alone with two young children.  She also had epilepsy with frequent seizures.  I don't know how she carried on.

Grandma wasn't alone for long, though.  About year after her first husband passed away, she married Grandpa Howard.  Grandpa said that when he was courting my grandma "she was as shy as a bunny rabbit." He brought her a bouquet of carrots.

Her response to any of his stories, including this one, was to declare "Oh, HowARD!" and wave her hand at him, as if she was trying to shoo him away like a fly.

Now that I think about it, when my husband says something outrageous, I say "Oh, honEY!" and wave my hand at him as I were trying to shoo him away like a fly.

Grandpa was strict when he was raising my dad and his older sister but he wasn't with me or my brother.

He let us tag along when he was picking rocks out of the fields before planting.  The fields in Northern Minnesota always have rocks that need to be picked before planting.

Grandpa & my brother on the tractor in 1983

Grandpa had an old Ford tractor and a trailer he made from scraps.

When we got a full load and emptied it, we would go home and have ice cream and mince meat.

Mince meat, in case you didn't know if pulverized meat of some sort, usually venison or beef or both, mixed with ground up candied fruit.

Gross.  I can't believe we ate that.

But Grandpa liked it, so we did too.

Sometimes my grandma would have a freshly baked cake and we would go pick strawberries so that we could have strawberries and ice cream with the cake.

Me, walking by the clothes line at my
grandparent's home.  1991 or so.

There was a strawberry patch growing next to their little house.  Their house was originally intended to be a wood shed and chicken coop.  The Great Depression hit before Grandpa's family could build the house they planned, so they turned the wood shed/chicken coop into a house.  My grandpa lived there his entire life.

Grandpa also had a big garden and he didn't get mad if we ate the snap peas.  My brother and I would help take care of the garden as well.

He taught me the value of hard work.

And the importance of rewarding yourself for hard work.

He taught me the importance of having a garden.

And the importance of sharing the harvest.

He taught me the importance of family.

And the importance of knowing that family is not just blood, it is who you choose to love.

Moving Forward

Remember my badger dog, Bella, who obsessively licks our other dog or parts of herself or parts of the furniture?

Remember how I said that my house had enough intensity with me in it, although I didn't obsessively lick things?

Yes?

What I didn't mention is what I am actually obsessed with.

I'm currently obsessed with reading trail books, as I mentioned in the post called Trail Magic.  Trail books are memoirs of people who have completed thru hikes, which are long distance hikes on trails that are around 2,000 miles long.

My total is nearing 20.

Most of which I read this summer.

Kindle Unlimited can be a beautiful thing.  Or a dangerous thing.  Either way, really.

I'm not 100% sure what the draw is but I'm guessing it is because I find little gems like this:

"The simple act of moving forward,

 not matter what the pace, 

was enough to set me smiling."

If Trees Could Talk by Woody Woodill

He, of course, was referring to moving forward on a trail.  More specifically, he was referring to moving forward after having encountered a very trying day.  

Trying days on the trail involve things such as not finding water, getting caught in a hail storm, nearly falling down a cliff or running out of food.

None of those are likely happenings in my daily life.

Well, except for the cliff.

I actually have an 80 foot cliff in my backyard, believe it or not.  We live in a hilly area and they put houses in the strangest places.

We have a fence, though, so I'd have to be doing something really stupid to fall off the cliff.  

Trying days off the trail are more likely to include a dog vomiting on the newly shampooed carpet, not having enough time to finish all my paperwork and phone calls or not enough time to get all the school shopping done. 

Or this week, I've been juggling a client in crisis, a friend's crisis, moving all my old files into storage, re-arranging my office to make room for another therapist, getting the back to school shopping done, and buying new furniture for my office all while trying to minimize time on my feet to limit pain caused by Lyme disease.

And, let me just say, trying to find pants that fit my 9 year old daughter seems like it should be an easy task but it is not!    

By the way, I get that these are good problems to have.  Not so much the people in crisis problem but the other things.  I'm lucky that these are the kinds of things that are trying.  

He wasn't speaking to any of those every day hassles.  

Nonetheless, that phrase really buoyed me this week. 

At any given moment, all I had to was go forward. 

Not sure what to do? 

Just pick something and do it.

So, I went to buy pants.

Or I composed a text to give comfort for a crisis.

Or I sorted through things and bagged up what I no longer needed.  

When things really got tough, I pulled out some paint brushes, turned on loud music and got out of my head for a little bit.

Moving forward.

All you gotta do is pick something and do it.

The details sort out as you go along, be it getting out of a hail storm or dealing with a crisis.

Life gives us many trying days.

We only need to keep putting one foot in front of the other and follow the trail.

Even when the destination is unknown.  

  

Badger Dog

I was minding my own business, soaking in the tub with a good book when my husband walked in to the bathroom.

Him:  "Gbeflkdgoh fegledabadf dying."

Me: "What?"

The fan was on and it was hard to hear him.

Him:  "I think Kona is dying."

Me:  "What?! Why?"

Kona Bear

I'm feeling alarmed. It is not everyday that my husband announces one of our animals is dying.

Him: "She is not eating."

Now I am really feeling concerned.  Kona is an eating machine.  She is a 120 pound St. Bernard and in the 3 1/2 years that we've had her she has never, not one time been not hungry.

She ate an entire roasted chicken once and it did not disrupt her digestion in the least.  She ate an entire roast in one gulp.  Appetite entirely intact.  She eats garbage and rarely has a problem.

Occasionally she will eat something that disagrees with her but she barfs it out and carries on merrily waiting for the next opportunity to counter surf or dumpster dive.

Lack of appetite is a concern.

Me:  "She did get in the garbage yesterday but that doesn't usually bother her."

Him: "I dunno.  I'll go look at her."

A few minutes passed and my husband returned.

Him:  "Never mind.  Bella is the reason why she is not eating."

Me: "Oh."

Bella is our 20 pound Dachshund mix.

Bella Bean

In case you didn't know Dachshund means "Badger Dog" in German.  They were bred to hunt down and kill badgers.

We're pretty short of badgers around these parts so Bella makes do with other activities such as chasing Kona away from her food dish, barking maniacally at the squirrels or leaves or birds, and attempting to kill herself by dashing into the road.

For relaxation she obsessively licks Kona's ears and eyes. If I am so cruel as to stop her from doing that, she then obsessively licks her paws or her butt or the upholstery or my comforter.

She's really intense.

I don't know what I was thinking.  I'm a mixed breed of German descent myself and that is really enough intensity for one house.

I don't obsessively lick things but I definitely have strong ideas about how things should work.  We frequently disagree.

I, for instance, think it is a stunningly poor idea to run into the road.  She would make this her primary hobby if we let her.  I've managed to convince her that when I tell her to sit and stay that running out the door is not the thing to do but, if the door is opened and she hasn't been issued prior instructions, out she goes!

For added fun, Kona has recently figured out that if she bonks the screen door with her nose with enough force she can open it.

Kona has a blood feud with the next door neighbor's dogs, so she immediately runs over to the fence to start hurling obscenities.  Her co-conspirator immediately runs into the road.

The humans channel Usain Bolt and sprint up the driveway into the road.  I've never been able to catch Bella easily.  I pretty much have to run her down and corner her.

My husband discovered that if he acts like the guy in Jurassic Park does when he is confronting the pack of velociraptors, Bella will roll onto her back.

I don't know what that's about.

There's never a dull moment around here.

I've got to go though, Bella is pawing at my arm and whining urgently.  There is something highly distressing to her that I must address immediately.