Photo Dump :)

We had a couple of warm days between two winter storms. I just HAD to get outside. Birds were singing, the sun was shining, and the ice was a lot of fun. Here, James and Matthew are playing "The Grass is Lava".

Later, we went for a block walk where James found oodles of puddles to stomp in and get soaked. Matthew wanted to look tough...as tough as you can look in striped pajamas, anyway.

"Take a picture of me punching the camera!"

Alex and Robert in their fencing gear. I still can't get over how they are the EXACT same height. They like fencing class. They'd learn more if they were in private lessons, of course, but then there wouldn't be as many other kids to fence against. And it's really, really important to Robert to know how many other kids he can beat in fencing. And video games. And test scores. And height. And everything else. I wouldn't call him competitive, per se, but he's all about comparison. He likes to do well. He judges how well he's doing by how many people are doing better/worse/more/less than he is. 

Alex leading our Valentine's Day Monday Night Fun activity: sugar cookie decorating!

Alex also got the rest of his molars sealed. All grown-up teeth now. Only the wisdom teeth left to come in. He's laughing and enjoying a sugar-free sucker they gave him (it helps with the bitter aftertaste, but it's not tasty).

This month, I traveled to Tennessee and Georgia to support Rachel on 2 more of her 50-50-50 bike rides. This Bigfoot statue, and many others, were on the property of the house we stayed in. Kinda quirky. I was too anxious/nauseous/unwell to ride with her on this trip. Fingers crossed I get this anxiety under control in time to train for the rides in April (Mississippi and Alabama coast).

The first real winter storm left a good bit of snow. I took the kids to the enormous sledding hill at Colbert Park. James conquered every single face of that hill, so proud of himself for being so daring. You can't see the hill in this picture, of course. That's the frozen lake behind them.

Clear Impressions

I was thinking about something this morning during my daily prayer and scripture study. Something had happened with one of my kids the night before...

...it was new and uncharted parenting territory...

...like all of my parenting opportunities these days...

I really wanted to find a solution and heal the rift.

As I considered two alternatives, I asked in prayer if the first one was right. I had a hard time envisioning the words to say and the picture was fractured in my mind. Then I asked about the second alternative, which seemed more complicated at first, but it was suddenly very clear in my mind. I marveled and questioned how this could be the solution and a calm light settled in my mind. It was so bright that I had to open my eyes just to check that it wasn't coming from my room. Nope. 

I rarely have such clear impressions of what to do. I rarely pray so long and hard for help. Those are likely related phenomena :) 

I acted on the impression and everything fell into place. The rift was healed.

I wanted to record this experience here because I tend to forget things. I don't want to forget this. I'm also not very good about sharing spiritual experiences with my family. Recording it helps me remember to share.

Whew!

Where to begin? 

It's been 6 months since Alex came out to us as transgendered and gay. It feels so much longer than that, honestly. He's happy, doing well in school, and engaged in activities and courses that he enjoys. He just signed up for his classes next year: English, math, science, PE, German, and Advanced Child Development are the ones I remember. ACD is a course where they run a small preschool from the high school. Alex will get to work directly with preschoolers every day :) He's really looking forward to that one.

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Robert has accepted the office of Deacon in our church. He's one of the boys who passes the sacramental bread and water to the congregation every Sunday. He takes his duty seriously. It's a joy to see him progress in the gospel this way. I wish I could see what was going on inside his head and heart. He talks to me a lot, actually, about his thoughts and feelings, but once I start asking questions (as I am prone to do), communication often breaks down and talking turns into something else entirely. I'm trying to find a pattern, but boy howdy he's complex. I wish I understood the triggers better.

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James rejoiced when I told the boys they could quit piano lessons after 4th grade. Matthew cried, because 4th grade is a long way away from 1st grade. Matthew draaaaaaaaaags out his piano practices and masterfully pays attention to every possible distraction within reach before playing a couple notes and instantly giving up in tears at the first note he plays wrong. I have to remind myself every week why I feel music is an important skill for all of my kids to experience :) James, on the other hand, is willing to put in the work to get the reward. He complains less these days. Partly because he's getting better and the songs are more interesting. Partly because he knows the end is in sight :) 15 months and counting!

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I recovered from my most recent episode of anxiety (August-October) and then took another nose dive when my mom had to get surgery to remove an ominous mass in her lung (my symptoms started again late January). My mom is doing great, her lymph nodes, liver, and brain are all clear of suspicious activity. She's recovering comfortably at home with lots of support from family and church friends. We should know soon if/when she'll need to do any chemotherapy.

I thought her recovery would make this episode of anxiety disappear instantly. Not so. Three weeks later, I'm still sick, cramping, emotionally fragile, and consumed with terrifying thoughts most hours of my conscious day. I still tend to recover more in the evenings (though not as completely as I used to) which is why I can write a blog post about it at all. Earlier today, even the thought of sitting down to write anything of what I was feeling would initiate waves of nausea, abdominal cramping, and cold sweaty fear. It kills me that the best I can do most of the day is get myself ready, do a little light housekeeping, and sit in a chair looking out the window. I do a lot of praying, too, but the anxiety has been bad enough that I haven't been able to feel the Spirit like I used to. I look forward to a time when I will again.

I met this week with my doctor and therapist. There's more to process than my mom's health:

1) I'm still processing the loss of Alice. That makes me so, so sad. Still.

2) And I'm processing the loss of Alex's childhood innocence. Teenagers are hard, man, and painful. Painful in new and exciting ways. Alex used to make me look like a great parent. Now I'm just a regular parent trying to MacGyver my way through the next however many years. 

Not surprisingly, the thought of losing my mom compounded the strain and tipped the scales back to crazy. My therapist named it 'anticipatory grief'. Which, by the way, does not make the actual grieving later on any shorter 🙄. So, yes, I've got a lot I'm working through, but I'm also getting impatient with myself...

...am I going to dissolve into a nauseous paranoid puddle for two months every time I might lose someone or something I love?! Why? Why?! It's infuriating. I always saw myself as stronger than this.

My therapist assures me that beating myself up over this is counterproductive. That this is out of my control. And I trust her, even if the anxiety doesn't always let me believe her. 

My doctor recomended an adjustment to my meds. He said I should feel better in a week or so. No improvement so far on day 3. I find myself on thought trains that lead to dark, scary nightmare sorts of places like losing my spouse or child...or dying and leaving my spouse and children. They feel so heavy and so terrifying. Those are the moments when I literally have to shake myself out of it and say, "That's just the anxiety talking. Those things do not occur to me when I'm normal."

Bobby has stepped up again and again to see our family through this. He's been infinitely patient and kind and warm towards my fragile state. He doesn't complain, even when he has a right to. Even when I can see this isn't easy on any of us. Even when I can't do more than cry and curl up into a ball and stare out the window.

I wish, I wish, I wish we didn't have to endure this.

I am so, so blessed not to be doing this alone.