Blueberries-Reminding myself again

I wrote and published this to my blog some time ago. I was just thinking about it. I was contemplating the message I wrote to myself and my kids- as all these entries really are anyway. Someday I will push the publish blog button and have the company put my blog into a hardback book for the boys. Yet, today I needed this message again. I needed a refresher; a reminder. I actually like this piece. I like how I started to write with no real intentions and no idea of what the next sentence or even the next word would be for that matter. It all came flowing from my heart. It came from that special place that helps you when you doubt yourself....that strong part that hides from you and pretends it doesn't exist. Whatever it was I wanted to read it again. I wanted to print it again. So here it is.

Have you ever picked blueberries? Have you ever seen the crazy parallels blueberries have to our lives?.... yes, I did say blueberries! OK sit back and let your mind think less literally and more symbolically for a moment:
There is a giant blueberry patch out there. You begin to walk down each aisle trying to find the best place for you to settle down and harvest blueberries. The first one you are drawn to seems too small so you move onward. The second one you are drawn to is filled with too many unripe berries, so you keep moving. The third one you are drawn to looks perfect and as you set down your bucket to pick those perfect blueberries, you realize that the whole backside of the plant is filled with a web and rotting berries. No one wants to stick their hand through a web to pull out the berries so they turn bad before they can be harvested. You are tempted to stay, but you move on anyway. The next bush you are drawn to is perfect. It is filled with clumps of ripe berries. The bush is currently in the shade while the others were being scorched by the 93 degree sun. The time is now. You set down your bucket, sit on your knees and begin to grab the clumps of ripe berries this bush has to offer. You learn your first lesson. As you were grabbing all of the largest clumps of berries, pulling off your best berries, and tossing them into the bucket to see that among those clusters of beautiful ripe berries there were tiny, unripened, berries that had now been also picked too early. You thought you were grabbing the best so you quickly grabbed without looking, and now those little berries won't have a chance to grow. Your first lesson was this:
Don't ever let your carelessness halt the growth of another.
You continued to pick your berries with more hesitance and grace than before to make sure that you didn't make a mistake like the last one. Instead of grabbing and pulling the berries off by clumps, you begin to pull them off a few at a time and holding them inside your hands until your hands are so full you must empty them into the bucket. This seemed to be working when on the third attempt your arm hits a branch and you fall backwards. You instinctively reach out to catch yourself from falling when all of your blueberries in both hands fall into the tall grass below. Your first thought is frustration at all the work that went to waste, then your second thought is all the blueberries that hit the ground would be impossible to find and that you must just move on without them. Those blueberries will have to be wasted.
You learned your second lesson:
Don't ever overfill your hands so much that you are not able to handle the load carefully. My Grandfather, whom I used to get to pick blueberries with, used to tell me that one should choose a couple of things to do. Do them well-better than to try and carry "too many loads" and do a poor job at all of the things one is attempting.
So you continue to pick your blueberries with even more hesitance and grace with growing wisdom. Things are making more sense and starting to flow with ease like the ease that comes with age.
As you continue to pick the berries careful to not overfill your hands you pop one into your mouth because it seems to look like the most delicious berry you have seen yet. The bitterness fills your mouth as you wish you could just spit it back out on the ground. You swallow your mistake and try and figure out the reason why the most visually perfect berry had the most bitter taste. The thought consumes you and you are drawn back to the thought of the bushes you had past in the very beginning when you were trying to find your first bush. You were quick to judge. You begin to walk backwards, the first bush you come to is the bush with the webs and rotten berries on the one side, yet all the perfect berries on the other side. You grab a berry and taste the sweet and sour taste of the blueberry. There were wonderful berries this bush had to offer, just because the one side was less than desirable, it did not determine the glory of the berries on the other side.
You learn your next lesson:
We are quick to judge a place, group, person, etc. by the visual ascetic's it has to offer, but will it be bitter and will we wish we could just spit and run once we realize it? Will we have passed up the valuable people, places, groups, etc, in our lives because they didn't "look" like what we thought we wanted? If we go back and accept them for their individual flaws, will we find the beauty they hold for us and the world?
You think about the bush you passed before the last one. The unripe berries may have seemed unusable to you so you walked past them. You looked down and the weeds around the roots of the bush were overgrown. You reached down and pulled the weeds out by your hands, so that they could get more of the water and nutrients that they needed to grow. While they had no berries to offer, they could teach you something.
You learned your next lesson:
There are people we pass in our lives that are underdeveloped: (children, uneducated, poor, ailing, loss of faith), while we may feel as if there is nothing we can do, maybe there is. In this case you lifted them up. You gave them nutrients to ripen.
Finally you decide that you must go back to the very first bush you past as you entered the blueberry patch. It was "too small" you thought and you didn't even try to see if it had berries to offer. As you approach the bush you see more berries than any of the other bushes. They are ripe and healthy. It is bountiful and ready to be harvested. There was nothing wrong with this bush except for your judgement of its size.
Here is you last and final lesson:
When we start out in our lives, we think we know what we are aiming for. We want something huge and grand. We want something like a masterpiece. All the small things in our paths seem too little for our attention. We keep walking past and learn through our mistakes that we don't belong where we are going and that our place is really the one we past up long ago. We thought we were going somewhere else. We come back to this "smaller" place of belonging and achievement and find that it has the most beautiful, bountiful, sweet, and glorious gifts to offer. This place, this bush, was meant to be ours all along. We are meant to be right here. It isn't that we shouldn't keep an eye on the other bushes and the health and bounty of our own, but we cannot eliminate the simplicity of the idea that our glory could be right here and right now in this tiny little bush.

What exhaustion does to Jo- If you want optimism DON'T LOOK HERE!

Too much pressure on the inside
all of the time....
This misery of mine
Makes me want to hide
Somethings gotta give....
Something will have to slide.
1st job, 2nd job, 3rd job?
And what are these crazy hours I keep?
every moment of the day scheduled out
even these moments needed for sleep.
When does it stop?
When can you see I am going to break?
Do you feel better now as I fell
down to the pits of despair?
And as I climb out of here
out of these depths of hell...
Will you reach for my hand and pull me on up
or will you turn your back on me-
while drinking pride from that cup?
Will you watch your flaming words?
I'm more fragile than a balancing act-
10,000 stories high.
What seems so small an innocent -
can make a grown woman cry.

BLAH! BTW- No it isn't a requirement that people be happy all the time or be happy just because you desperately imply they do so....Did you know that the more you push someone to be happy when they are not, makes them more resistant and often leads them to feel worse when the guilt sets in.
When my five year old son cries and gets embarrassed for doing so, I say to him, "don't feel ashamed for feeling those feelings honey, what you feel is real. Let it come right thru you and out to the other side. Sometimes crying gets all of the mad and the sad out." So forgive me please while I feel what I feel as it is real. I have to let it come right thru me to the other side. In doing so, I may say these words and they may seem harsh, but they are real and I need to get all of my mad and sad out.

The risk could simply not be worth the possible misinterpretation of my intent.

I don't understand how some people can't see who I am. I don't hide much of anything. I'm upfront and I wear my heart on my sleeve. My intentions are not to hurt anyone ever, I don't get enjoyment out of other people suffering. I don't find enjoyment in conflict. I can't stand to even hurt a bug. I find hunting to be a painful truth in my family, but I understand it. I try and place myself into situations to be empathetic to others and I try to provide sympathy and support to the best of my ability. I try so hard at so many things. I am harder on myself than any other person could ever be, yet, it never stops people from trying.
And here I find myself in yet another situation where I am someone who has caused problems. I could just melt away into the woodwork and never attempt to try anything. The risk could simply not be worth the possible misinterpretation of my intent. Yet, I cannot stand back no matter how hard I try. If I have a passion in this life that I can't subside, I follow it. There will always be haters, the misunderstanding jealous and the plain misjudgers. I can't understand how God could put such passion for things in my heart yet also such sensitivity to what others think of me as well. Why can I not be confident of myself? I know in my heart the truth. God knows the truth, why isn't that ever enough for me? I cringe when I catch other's in a lie and then as they go to bed at night thinking that I honestly believe they speak the truth...I wonder to myself why I am the one who seems to suffer now? Maybe they suffer too. Maybe more than me. Not that I want them to suffer. Why must people lie to me? I hate the lies. I see right through them. Do they think about the lies as they spew from their mouths? Or do they lie so much it becomes second nature and they pass it on to themselves as a necessity in the moment. They justify it. Or do they simply begin to believe their own lies? I said a prayer last night before I went to bed as tears rolled down my face that he would help me understand what it is that I can't see in this impossibility now. I prayed that he give my faith the strength to overcome this bash. I prayed that I not give up on a silly little dream I have had since I was younger. I prayed that he help me channel my Grandpa's grace with words, yet strength and common understanding. I pray tonight that he give me forgiveness and the ability to move forward and disregard the people who think they need to lie to me without letting them slow me down. In a moment like this I thank God for all of my family and my in-laws too and my friends the old and the new. I thank him for the people who know me and have known me for all of my life, those people who love me, trust me and have faith in me after a lifetime of knowing me, just me, but me all the same. I am important to many people and I feel their love right now, if not for them , I think I couldn't go on into this world with a passion in my heart or a hope in my soul. To those without your judgement to me, I say- thank you, to those who feel you should judge me anyway, I say- can I help you find you instead?

SELFISH MIGRAINE BEAST

What starts as a seemingly depressive day where my lethargy is quite unsettling to those who know me, it can turn worse in minutes. I could tell what was coming. I woke this morning desperate to hide under the bed and sleep. I just did not want to get up today. Then as I sat up and began to immediately move at the speed one must move at in order to get Grant off to school and then off to my care taking/cleaning job for the day; I felt like I was walking through a giant jello mold. And the internal pressure inside of my body needs some sort of documentation. I'm dizzy. The thought of food makes my vomit want to vomit. All day I just walked around inside the poorly rundown vehicle that my soul has been encapsulated in and wondered how I would get it (my body) to do what I needed it to do for me. I knew it was coming, but there wasn't anything I could do to stop it.
Hello Migraine you are my enemy. My hatred  towards you extends across relationships, college careers, homes, pregnancies, ups, downs, you have no mercy. I knew you were coming today my enemy, all because I was weak and made a mistake yesterday. I left the front door opened for you and you welcomed yourself inside so that you could settle down in my brain just perfectly. Don't get too comfortable. You will be leaving soon. That banging you hear? Oh, that is my head against the hard floor because it actually disperses the intensity of your pain and I can deal with that better than you. You are enough to make a person crazy. I hope you die you selfish migraine beast. The most I can hope for myself right now is to fall asleep.....right....

At The Risk of Being Cheesy

I love you Teddy.

Lady with a Hatred for a Rubber Ducky

Yesterday Arline and I drove up to Mendota to pick up Kara and Faith and go to a baby shower of Arline's niece by marriage. The drive was long. I was antsy. At one point when we were probably 20 minutes from Kara's house I finally gasped, "ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggg, let's do a Chinese fire drill!" She told me no. Maybe she was worried I would drive off :-) Just kidding Arline! I was serious about the Chinese fire drill. I hate sitting still that long and riding with me has to be the worst punishment ever considering I can't stand complete silence when people are around unless someone is sleeping. Ever wonder why I talk so much? Now you know.
When we got to the shower Kara and I were in good moods and joking around the whole time, but we were also catching up from not seeing each other for awhile and since we neither one like to talk on the phone, we have to catch up in person. We also find it quite fun to taunt each other. As we moved over to the part where the mother-to-be was opening gifts, we were having trouble seeing anyway so we continued to whisper our conversation. At one point Kara told me something that happened to my niece Faith. I said out loud, "oh my gosh, I DON'T like that!" But right as I was saying that the mother-to-be held up a rubber ducky and the room became quieter than it was. So imagine this. Mother holds up rubber ducky and lady from the back of the room says, "oh my gosh I DON'T like that!" In the awkwardness of the moment instead of saying "I didn't mean the ducky!" I mumbled "yeah, stupid ducky." quite sarcastically. As the shower came to an end, I was noticing that the entire thing was being filmed and Kara and my conversation was probably the closest sound to the camera. CRAP! Wow, I just love baby showers, they always bring out the best in me. It wasn't like I wasn't happy for the couple...I just have issues with baby showers. I was proud of myself for going. They are so hard for me. I know....I have a lot of issues. That's right I'm like a paint by number- so restrictive and annoyingly stifling. But, I promise you I really can rock out an awesome masterpiece despite all of that! Kara was worried we looked like we didn't care and I hoped we didn't. To make her laugh about it I said, "Well, I know they don't like me, at least I have company!" She laughed.

What friendship means, what it doesn't; who you are and who aren't and never will be (and that is okay): forget the mold and get out of the locker!

Amber and I had the rare chance to talk the other day, and as I look back I am mad at myself for spending the whole conversation complaining about the previous day and the drama that unfolded in our house. The guilt I felt with Grant's bad day, the anger at the doctor's office....me, me, me, I have a habit of making it about me. It takes a whole lot of practice and a whole lot of support to make yourself not so narcissistic. So yes, I am aware. I was writing on the new page I added in my blog the other day (the award page) that talking to her was "like water in the desert". I can't find a better description. She doesn't cause me pain, suffering, self-doubt. She never tares me down. That is what a true friendship does. Most of us don't find this until we become adults unfortunately. Some never find it until they are late in their lives. Some people will never get it because they can't stop abusing their friends enough to deserve it.
It wasn't always like this. Honestly Amber and I were in school together and she was a year older than me, but we didn't become friends until late high school. Then we seemed to get closer the farther we got from high school. After I saw her at the frog jumping contest back home immediately following my surgery and recovery we found ourselves almost running to each other like a cheesy but realistic movie and we just hugged. We were both in tears. It was tough not seeing each other through that. But, she had a baby right when I had the diagnosis and surgery. She was there for me, and seeing her made it all very clear to me. So, from that day on we texted and e-mailed and talked on the phone constantly. We still do, more some times than others, but even when we can't see each other, I know she is there if I need her. She always has something to say to make me feel better or something to offer that I never thought of. I'd like to think I do the same for her. Actually, I really know I do. I do. I have a blessing in her and I simply would do anything for her.
There were times growing up when I wondered if I would ever have the type of friends I saw people having at school. Those best friends that hung out outside of school and went to each others houses and did everything together caused me slight jealousy at times. I did have best friends growing up but, as we grow up we change and as we change sometimes our friends don't change the same way we do. It isn't saying that they are bad or wrong, or I am bad or wrong. It simply says that I took a different path for some reason and it has lead me here. The difficulties I had with deep friendships revolved around trust and keeping close to my family due to anxiety. I rarely trusted anyone completely, and if I did it seemed that they were either family or very close friends of family. My mother encouraged me to spend the night at people's houses if I was invited. The conjoined words: "slumber party" or "spend the night" still make me want to vomit. I went to a couple, I'm not sure if any of the people there remember me being there other than one time when I was the butt of the joke and had an incident happen that deeply saddened me. I resolved in my head that I "hated" those girls. But with me, to "hate" someone meant that I often was still very nice to them, I would just cry when I went home: I was very dependent until about 8th grade. I'm not sure what changed me. Something happened inside me that told me that I would no longer be submissive. I started running and writing then and told myself I would completely change who I was to the opposite. I could fake "un-shy" when I needed to. I am a extroverted introvert- (try that one on)! In fact I often put myself in situations that other shy individuals would find torturous. I decided I was going to try out for the dance team, but they called it Pom-poms (which still to this day I laugh about because we rarely used pom-poms). It was a stretch because most of those girls had been in dance their whole lives. I had never been in dance. The only dance I knew was what I felt when I heard music. Oh, how I have so many stories rushing through my head right now about high school and who I was and who I wasn't that I must simply focus on one right now.
Back to the idea of freeing myself... Just because I chose to be different didn't mean in any way that my life was easier, it just meant that I could rest easier at night with the choices I had made even if I was the only one making them. I had strong opinions then, just as I do now. I felt strong resistance toward alcohol and drugs. I assure you the less friends you have, the less parties you go to, the less trouble you seem to get into....Am I saying to be a loner? Not exactly. It's really hard as a young individual or even an adult to stand alone. I remember wanting to climb inside my locker so no one could see me not hanging out in any particular group. I had so many people that were nice to me and I was friendly with. I joked around with so many of them, I appeared to have strong friendships. But nobody in that school really knew who I was except for a select few. If they knew who I was it didn't mean they were my best friends either. Dan (my brother) was in high school with me for two years and that was calming. When he left I never felt like I recovered completely. It may not have seemed that way to others. I was in student council, on the dance team, then I wanted to try to twirl and be a majorette (Baton twirlers) so I asked a friend of mine to show me real quick. I bought a baton, practiced all summer and tried out and made it! So I said suck it to the now large group of a-holes the dance team was (not all of them, just most) and started twirling. (I'm totally over that- can you tell?) I even did fire batons. I have a feeling though people remember me from high school as the reject.
I ran track and cross-country, I read the announcements over the intercom every morning one year or two I can't remember. I won the honorary captain of the cross country team award my senior year (voted on by my teammates). I won the DAR award (Daughters of American Revolution Citizenship Award) (voted on by my teachers and other adults who worked in the school) and was prom queen my senior year (voted on by the students). Yet, I still felt odd, out of place, like I never belonged. So I'm convinced that some people would feel that way no matter how many friends they had, awards they won or things they participated in.
Some may wonder why I am looking back....something took me back. I was trying to have empathy for something I saw and I put myself into a young person's place only to remember that I don't have any answers because I never really learned how to fit in. I still feel the same way I did back then. But there are no lockers to climb into. It just is a different place. In this place I can go home and hide. I can be myself more and still know my husband loves me and he chose me, he didn't just get stuck with me. I can be me and know my boys are still going to tell me "You are my best mommy in the world Mommy!" I can write it all down in a book, give it one last look, hand it over to a publisher and hope they don't judge me as harshly as I do myself. I can know that my words might make someone somewhere feel like people have helped me feel along the way...hopeful...and loved even though I am me.

Blue's Clue's and Brown Bear, Brown Bear vs. The Encycolpedia, National Geographic and Discovery Channel at 5?

I absolutely love Grant's kindergarten teacher. She is one of those people that brings an instant level of comfort the second you look at her. Grant loves her as well. The thing about Grant is that he doesn't instantly trust anyone. He is very hesitant and guarded. I asked him tonight "How do Mrs. Cross and Mrs. Bear compare?" He said "Completely!" Since my question was asked in a particularly odd fashion in order not to sway his response I was confused at first by his answer. He continued on to say that they are the same. To know how big of a shock that statement is you would have to know how in love Grant was with his preschool teacher, Mrs. Cross. He was so upset when he found out that she wouldn't be coming with him to kindergarten. He started preschool right before his 3rd birthday. The Y-tots program was appealing to me because it was only two days a week from 8:30-11am. They focused on socialization, play, following rules, and fun education. I say fun because I am against hard core preschool. I believe that kids should be able to play before they start school. If they ask questions, and oh, how they do... I feel we should answer every one. I didn't want him to be forced to learn the things he would be learning in kindergarten before he even got there. I wanted him to play and experience life so he would want to know all about it. I can understand those kids who don't care to learn because their parent's never answered the millions of "why's" or the kids who never got the chance to play and experience the world enough to be compelled to know more and more. To be hungry for more knowledge.
"Mommy is the sun falling?, Mommy do the people get to come out of the TV?, Mommy how does the tree in the front yard come back to life and get green again after it died when the leaves fell off of it? Mommy why are you doing that? Mommy why can't I? Mommy what's that? Mommy what's that? Mommy what's that?
WHAT'S THAT!"
Due to his thirst for knowledge Grant asked to learn many things and was ready for kindergarten. In June Grant sounded out words in a book Jake was holding and officially read his first book. We covered up the pictures so that he wasn't able to just guess by the picture. I remember getting frustrated recently when he was at his Grandmother's house and I was talking about being worried he would be bored in kindergarten, therefore getting into trouble, and I was informed that he didn't know the sounds that the letters made and didn't know how to identify some of the letters. My first thought was who cares, that's what he will learn anyway, so maybe he won't be bored , but then it hit me...No, that wasn't true. He wanted to play school all of the time so we would often work on letters at home. He repeatedly identified and sounded them out correctly. He had a wipe board that he used and every time he got all of them right we bought a littlest pet shop animal, I'm sure we did that too many times...it got pricey. I couldn't figure out why he wasn't showing his Grandma what he knew. It wasn't really all that important other than it made me look like I was a dope. I asked him why she may have thought that. He told me that he just didn't want to play school at Grandma's house, he wanted to catch toads. I figured he if he didn't care he probably appeared that he didn't know, he was probably thinking about catching toads. She wouldn't have cared if he wanted to catch toads instead of work on school stuff. He should have told her. She was a teacher for years, she certainly knew how to teach him his letters and sounds if he really didn't know them, but I really did already teach him, as bad of a Mom as I may appear to others I know in my heart I do my best.
Grant really loved me to read the children's encyclopedia to him since he was three. I have to be honest, I used to read encyclopedias at my Grandparent's house when I was little, so I was happy to read it to him. He also has developed such an amazing interest in animals, insects and nature that we often have the Discovery Channel Streaming Netflix on. The Disney channel seems to have faded into the background. He has a subscription to Kid's National Geographic, but gets irritated that it doesn't look like the adult version. I honestly thought kindergarten would continue his development upward. I'm sure socially he has things he needs to work on, anxiety in social settings is an issue, but if Ted and I never got over that, how will kindergarten improve that? I feel there will always be opportunity in all settings to learn something, even if it is as simple as, "I should not act like that kid!" However, the kindergarten program has to cover such a wide spectrum of children.....they have to make sure they don't well, leave anyone behind....
I feel a bit amazed that Mrs. Bear is able to teach children who have never read Brown Bear, Brown Bear and are 5 years old, with kids who are already reading (I'm not talking about Grant, she mentioned last year she had a girl reading at a third grade level). I don't really consider Grant to be able to read yet. Tonight Jake was watching an episode of Blue's Clues that Grant probably watched when he was right around two as well. Suddenly Grant pipes up, "Hey we watch this at school during nap time!" I said, "Are you kidding me!?" It was a sudden reaction and I shouldn't have said it, so Ted shot me a look. That look. That one that gets me every time. The "I'm so disappointed with you look". I was just amazed. Blues Clues at 5....Really? This is in no way a comment on Mrs. Bear's teaching skills, as teachers must do what is right for all of their student's right? But, if that is true, what about the kids who are forced to- wow, here comes a "Jo said it and it was totally inappropriate comment...."- dumb it down? I am smart enough even after such a dumb comment to know that there may be reasons for these things I don't know about, but I wish I could understand, I really do. .
As learning about his colors the first week, reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar, and the librarian telling him he couldn't check out books in the bigger kids reading sections- even though I would be reading the books to him no matter what he checked out...., I'm having a hard time telling myself to enforce the idea that he must act his age. What is it that a five year old must act like these days again? Guess I have no clue.
Disclaimer: To all parent's who have children who struggle with a learning disability or social or emotional disability: I understand that there is a struggle for us as parents to keep our children at levels that are equal to those of the typical child their age. I understand the guilt, the pressure, the anger at the school system, etc. I simply am presenting a different thought on the whole dynamic system. It appears broken. I am not the first obviously to see this, but, I want it to be clear that all children (people)  have weaknesses and I am not saying that my son is without his own. Someday when he is old enough to share his, maybe he will. Maybe I will have taught him, if nothing else, that there is no shame in expressing weakness...Until then, I will continue to speak of his strengths because I am proud of him and how far he has come.

Okay here's to you Sam and Natalie

Britt Nicole - The Lost Get Found

This video is about not being afraid to be be who you are, to share what you have been through, and that your experiences could be the very thing that helps the lost get found. It's the type of grace that inspires me to tell my stories and write them to the world. She is a Christian singer and I absolutely love the song. The message is powerful and the video is profound.

I hope you love it too.

Love and blessings, and I hope you enjoyed your shout-out!

You'll get through this too

In case you are wondering who sings this song: it is Joshua Radin and the song is called "Winter". This episode of Scrubs- probably one of my all time favorite TV shows ever, aired in 2004 shortly after some things I never thought I could make it through. I remember sitting alone one night, as I had recently discovered I was pregnant with Grant (only three months after losing Joseph), while Ted was at work. I was dealing with guilt of a pregnancy too soon and not wanting anyone to think I was trying to replace one child with another...something you can never do. I was watching this show and I cried...and cried...and cried. I cried the next day, and the next day and then every time I thought of those last words that Zack Braff (J.D.) said in the show I seemed to finally get emptied out of the tears and the sadness and I came to some clarity. I know it seems so odd to be affected by a TV show in such a way, yet with the combination of the show, the music and with the experiences of the time I was deeply affected. I had cut myself off from most of the people in my life when I had suffered this tragedy, and to be honest I assumed they didn't want to be around me because they simply didn't know what to say. The odd thing about losing loved ones in unexpected, unexplainable or tragic ways is often a terribly and lonely existence. People initially send cards and flowers. Then about five or six days later everyone disappeared and I was all alone. People don't like to talk about the things that they fear, or simply do not know how to process. Unfortunately it can leave the person who has experienced the loss with great resentment and emotional scars on top of the pain already in existence.
I think I have evolved into such an emotionally expressive and forward person because of the loneliness that I felt after our loss. I always want to be sure to say the right thing because of all the things that were said to me right after the loss that were totally inappropriate and downright horrible. I still can't forgive the people who said those things and I feel it will always harm relationships in my life. I over-react at small situations because underneath there is an instinctual reminder of certain words or actions by others during that time. Sounds, smells, and even some visual stimuli can take me back so fast I will find myself scrambling for the nearest exit. If only the people in my life knew the tiny things that remind me...I wonder if they would care or if they would blow me off. Some people think I get overly passionate and opinionated about a particular issue but they have no clue what I want to scream...
Grant has brought home toys (a particular type of doll- I can't say it or write it) that have caused me horrible flashbacks that I spend weeks trying to erase from my brain. He doesn't know why Daddy makes them disappear, he probably just thinks I am crazy. So be it...I am. I understand that one may wonder where this blog entry has risen from. I was triggered four times in one day today and I began to wonder if there was some sort of reason for the freak nature of these odd occurrences to all happen in one day. There may be a reason, there may be a lesson...I can't see it right now. I will in time. I guess conincidence is always a possibility...Now here I sit wondering if I should even publish this blog or if it is too nuts, depressing..... But, isn't that sad? Why should I have to be embarrassed to talk about genuine human emotions that I have experienced. Don't we all have emotions that we know aren't "normal". Wouldn't "normal" really simply be the existance of abnormal emotions we are unable to cure, completely explain, or even one's that we hate about ourselves? When I die someday it will say this on my tombstone:
"Never an emotion she didn't share,
never a oddball we could compare,
but standing by her made me look sane,
and for that gift I will never complain!"