I Don't Want This Burden Anymore

Do you ever have an issue or struggle that you just can't get rid of? You pray about it, you wrestle with it, you say "no more," but it's always there in the back of your head, getting its tentacles into your heart. It is like the heaviest backpack that you cannot take off. Why is that? What is it about that particular struggle that makes it nearly impossible to get rid of? Is it denial? Do you think the struggle is going to end up the way you want? Is it because you've gotten used to the feeling of the struggle? Maybe you just have to get so sick of yourself, because you've held on to the struggle so long. I am usually a person who continues inner struggles for a long time. I hate that about myself. It's not something that I admire about myself, but it is something I just unconsciously, habitually do. I think I go through all the stages associated with grief when I go through letting go of a struggle. I go through bargaining, anger, denial, sadness (I think I'm missing a stage.) until I come to acceptance. Then one day I wake up, and I say okay, that's it, I'm done.

I recently earnestly prayed about my struggle, just asking what God wanted. Whatever He wanted, I just needed to know so that I could go forward. God is always good to let me know. Sometimes He lets me know right away, sometimes it's awhile before I get to know. I always love it when it's sudden and dramatic, because then I have absolutely no doubts as to what God wants me to do. But that usually only happens when I'm in dire circumstances that need to be remedied immediately. This time God was pretty quick, but He was gradual. He let me see things through things I read or saw on TV or the movies. He'd show me these things then would say, "Now what do you think? I think you already know and have known for quite awhile." And He's right, I have. So, that's when I start steps. And I put things in order so that I don't look back that way again. And it's okay, I don't feel the need to anymore. I'm just so ready to go forward with a new chapter in my life without that burden on my back.

I love the Foo Fighters' song, "Walk" because it exemplifies this so perfectly: "I'm learning to walk again, I believe I've waited long enough...I'm learning to talk again, Don't you see I've waited long enough..." That's how I feel. I've waited long enough on this struggle, and I'm walking again, walking away from this struggle and not looking back.

Meandering in the Quiet

Just a week and half to go until I go back to school. And my kids are on vacation with their dad. All is quiet here. So, that's when my brain starts meandering all over the place. Today I was totally lazy. I did nothing but read and watch TV. I watched episodes of Dexter and White Collar, Covert Affairs. I finished reading a book called Healer. I can't recall the author at this moment and am too lazy to go look. It was a mediocre book, but somehow kept my attention. And believe me, if my attention is not grabbed within the first five pages, I toss it aside. Obviously, I don't have too much of a social life. That was one of the things that I was pondering this weekend. I was thinking, is this it? Is this all God has for me? Teaching and raising kids? It's just that I know soon my kids will leave. And before they leave, they will become teenagers and not want me around too much. And I love teaching. I'm always trying to improve upon it. This year is no exception. Now that I finally fee like I have my feet under me, I'm going to try to work on Differentiation. I'll have to write about that later. What I'd also really like to do is be a writer. I try to work on it a little bit every day that I don't have the kids. I just can't do it on the days that I have them. My focus is too much on them. And when I work and have them, well forget it. I just come home, finish guiding any homework that needs to be finished up, cook dinner, clean up, and collapse in front of the TV for about an hour. But oh, I would love to be a writer. Maybe that's the next turn in my road. I guess we'll see. But for now, I'll relish these next two weeks. Now I have to go. Dexter is calling to me.

Eeeek!

There is nothing that strikes fear in my heart like mice (or spiders or bugs of any sort). And when a mouse is invading my house, it is close to catastrophic. A couple of weeks ago a mouse invaded my home late, late one night during a taped DVR watching of Friday Night Lights. That was bad enough, since there are only a few more episodes where I can watch Coach Taylor motivate his boys to be their very best off and on the field. After screaming at the poor rodent and throwing my slipper on the floor (jamming my finger in the process), I retreated to the safety of my bedroom and immediately went to get DCon the next day.

For weeks I have been on the lookout for any brave mouse that might make its way into my abode. But I had been lulled into a false security the mice knew that entering my house meant certain death. If I didn't get them the poison would. Yesterday, I was up in my room putting my make-up on when my son yells up at me that he sees a mouse. Incredulous, I yell back, "Inside?" He says that yes, he is looking at it.

I bounded down the stairs, and sure enough there was a tiny mouse running back and forth on my baseboards underneath the window between my couch and TV armoire.

I ran to get my broom and started yelling at the thing. My son joined in. But the poor mouse didn't know what to do . It just kept running back and forth. In retrospect, I think the mouse had already sampled some of the poison, it was so discombobulated. At the time, though, I just wanted the thing out of my house. The mouse made a dash for it behind my armoire, and he promptly jumped on top of the poison that was artfully placed behind my armoire. My daughter peeked behind the armoire in fascination. "It's eating the poison!" she said reverently. Then tears gathered in her eyes. "It's just a baby," she said. This is was Disney cartoons do to people. They make defenseless kids think that mice are cuddly friends and that Prince Charming is going to show up to save the day. Neither are true.

After telling her that she needed to dry her eyes, we all took up residence in front of the armoire, waiting for the enemy to leave the fortifications. I was armed and ready with a shovel and a broom. But the mouse would not budge; it was still nesting on the poison. Finally, I told my kids that I was going to go finish getting ready and that if they saw the mouse to let me know. About a half an hour later (it takes a while to get this face presentable), I came downstairs to find out that the mouse was still behind the armoire. I decided to fix and lunch and hope that maybe the food smells would lure it out.

I guess lunch did the trick. In the middle of pulling pizza out of the microwave, my daughter shrieked that the mouse was leaving its hiding place. I ran over quickly, broom in hand. The poison was definitely taking affect, because the mouse ran back and forth, spun in circles, and landed it on its back. You would think this was the end, but this was like a little horror movie. The mouse got back up and started coming towards me. I screamed a blood curdling scream and the mouse ran back to the floor boards. Then the mouse darted under the couch. I was actually glad about this. The couch is in front of the fireplace, which is how the mice are getting in. I thought, now the mouse will leave. But then I had visions of the mouse actually dying under the couch, soon smelling the stench of decaying rodent. That would never do. So, I moved the couch forward, and the mouse darted forward again.

What to do? This could not go on all day! So, I decided to launch a bold move. If I could sweep the mouse out the garage door (which it was closest to), then I could sweep it on out of the garage and onto the driveway, then the yard, where a cat could then take care of it. Brilliant! So, I opened the garage door, steadily gripped my weapon, and hit that mouse like it was a hockey puck. Unfortunately, my athletic prowess (or lack of) showed itself at this time. Did the mouse launch out the door. No, it stopped just short of the door and started to gather itself together to fun. I would not be stopped. I drew my broom back and undeterred, aimed again. Again, my aim-not that good. Because, even though I was inches from the door, the mouse scooted under the door and hit the wall. At least that was enough to daze the mouse who laid motionless. With determination in my voice, I ordered my daughter to open the back door. I triumphantly picked up the shovel, scooped up the pesky enemy, and screaming wildly ran the mouse out the back door. I screamed the entire time, but I was not alone. I heard shrill outcries behind me-not from my daughter; but from my son. Buoyed by our cries of outrage, I flung my shovel back and catapulted the probably very regretful mouse into the yard.

Victory!

If Only, I'd Be

I read such an interesting article in O magazine. The author was saying that unconditional love is loving someone no matter what they do. Or, not caring what they do. Instead of saying, "I would feel more secure about our relationship if he would call," say "I will feel more secure about our relationship." Basically, that what other people say and do should not be the basis about how you feel about yourself. I love this, because I think it is true. However, when emotions, expectations, etc get in the way it can be really difficult to do this.

My dad has kind of taken my son under his wing in the area of baseball. This is the first year my son has played, and he is ten years old. My son comes from two parents who are not athletic. But he wanted to play, so I signed him up. He actually showed some promise, and my dad must have seen this, because he asked if he could start practicing with my son on a fairly regular basis. I allowed this, because as I said before, neither myself nor my ex-husband are athletic, I'm not dating anyone, so where else would my son get this training? Plus, it filled a void in my dad's life after the defection of his son and grandson (which is a whole other story). And it was a win-win situation.

The last couple of games occurred after summer had started. My kids and I had our vacation time together, and we were pretty busy. So, my son didn't get to practice as much as he had in the past. Consequently, his last couple of games didn't go so well for him. He was frustrated, and my dad stated that he wanted to keep practicing through the summer so that my son could keep up these skills. I was great with that, and my son was too. So, Saturday came. At 10am, I still had not heard from my dad. He was supposed to practice with my son, but there had been no set time that he was coming over. I called him, and he was at a barbeque contest, where he was a judge. He said that he wouldn't probably get home until after 3pm, but he would call then and he and my son could practice then. So, I took my kids to the movies. The movie got out a little before 3pm, and I told the kids that if my dad hadn't called by 3:30pm, we would go to the pool. 3:30came and went, and we had not heard from my dad. We got ready for the pool, and my dad calls at 3:40. We agreed that it would be best to practice at 7pm, because it was really hot. My kids and I went to the pool, then we ran to get something to eat. We pulled into my driveway around 6pm, and my mom and dad were in my driveway. They had brought over some of the barbeque from the competition. Then my dad asked my son if it would be okay if they didn't practice that night. My son it said it would be great. He said he was tired too.

Now, it has to be understood that my son tends to be a little slothful. He sometimes, a lot of the times, has to be made to do things. If fact, this is a trait that runs in the males on my side of the family. So, he will always say that he doesn't want to do something if he is given the chance. It also has to be understood that there is a lot of history of my dad not following through with the things that he says he will do. There is also a ton of history of him always doing the fun things that he wants to do for himself instead of sacrificing that fun for his family. My sister would attest to this. MAYBE he sacrificed these things for his son, but definitely not for my sister or for myself. I have come to grips with this for myself. I never expect him to do a thing for me, I am frankly surprised when he does. I honestly, at this point, would prefer that he not even attempt to do things for me. But when he starts to do this with my son, it tends to make me angry.

So, now I should try to apply the principle that I mentioned at the beginning of this entry. "I would feel less angry if my dad would put my son before himself and his desires." What I should say is, "I will not be angry." And the fact is, I will not be angry. My dad is never going to change. At 64, I just don't see him and his slothful nature changing-not even for my son. And just as I have let my children see their father's true nature, staying out of tainting that, so that they can come to their own judgements about him; I will also stay out of this relationship. My son has to see his poppy for who he is. My son may be okay with my dad's traits. He may not be. And if he's not okay with them, he has to be the one to figure out how he will deal with that. I've figured out how to deal with it-to have a pretty surface relationship, spend limited time, and not expect that I will ever be put first before his own desires. And I'm not angry with it (after years of being angry). So, I will not be angry about my son's relationship with him either.

Letting Go

42 years old has been a little (no, a lot) disconcerting in the body image department. I am not exaggerating or kidding when I say that one day I could control my weight by what I ate and the very next day no matter what I ate or how much I exercised, my weight went up by 5 pounds and would not budge. I can't express how frustrating this has been for me. Body image has always been something that I'm very aware of. I'm short (5'1"), so I've always kept a pretty tight rein on it. But I've also always been able to do this. Now, it's just not working. Not only that, my weight has shifted weirdly. I now have a poochy stomach, and, well it's just weird.

So, I'm learning to let go and come to grips with it. I don't even know if I have any kind of control on my weight or not. If I choose to eat wisely will it at least keep the weight gain at some kind of bay, or does it not even matter. Because if I'm eating fruits, vegetables, and whole grains when I could be eating a cupcake, I'm going to be a little steamed. If I'm giving up pasta for nothing, then I'm about to say, who cares?

I ask myself, why do I care? I'm beyond the dating days. I truly feel like those days are gone for me. And I might just be totally okay with that. I think I've talked before how freeing that is to me. And even if I was still interested in attracting the opposite sex, do men really like someone who's rounder, softer? You've got me.

How many other women are dealing with this?

Writing

Getting ready to attempt a day of writing. This is what I told myself I'd do this summer, but I am so scared! Can I really do this? Do I really have enough to write about and will it be interesting or creative? Could there be the smallest chance that I could get published? I guess I'll really never know unless I try. And at least if I try and fail I will know I tried. I think I would always think lower of myself if I didn't find out.

This feeling of thinking I will not succeed is very familiar to me. I felt that way about teaching. For the first two years, my stomach was nervous pretty much every day. I so felt that way about being a mom. Those first two years-don't get me started. But I think I do fairly well in those two areas now. It seems like the areas where I thought I'd do great are where I haven't done so well (2 failed marriages!). So, maybe it will be all right. But my teeth are on edge.

Sex Ed Talk

It is spring, and that means that every teacher seems to be required to talk about sex with students. I know the Science teacher across the hall has a unit, and it can be hilarious, what the kids say and ask. Well, I guess the talks start in 4th grade, because my kids got the sex movie this year. My daughter seemed pretty neutral. We've been talking about this stuff for awhile. My son seemed a little disconcerted. We sat down to talk about it, and do you know what he was most concerned about? That he was going to get hair on his feet! Of all the things! I told the Science teacher across the hall and she speculated that he thought he was going to be like the Hobbit. And by gollly, I bet she's right. The kids' dad showed them all of The Lord of the Rings, and it had a profound effect on him, and not really in a good way. I thought he was going to have a heart attack of Gollum. My poor son thinks he's going to turn into the Hobbit!

Another funny sex quip: My son said that a classmate of his told another guy that he like to play with his balls. My son asked me if he was talking about the balls of feet, and how could this happen? I had to explain to him what of course this meant. To see his face go from quizzical to a dawning of realization was priceless. Oh, such innocence!