A series of really tragic events within our local community has me thinking about my own tragic events within my life. Correction, our lives. Because when something tragic happens, it affects a whole circle of people, not just one. It has me wondering, does life truly go on? Or does it just come to an awkward stand still and everything else starts to revolve around that incident instead? Most days, I feel like life truly does go on. Other days though...... not so much. I don't know if I've mentioned it in this blog before, but I have PTSD. Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. Something you usually associate with a soldier returning from war, but in my case, it was a medical traumatic experience. A 'routine procedure' gone terribly wrong. Proof positive for me that "routine" in life is never really routine. Anything can happen at any moment to change our lives forever.
When I start sitting around contemplating "life" and how it progresses, I find myself hitting these little walls. Not walls so high that I can't get over them, but definitely hurdles in my everyday life. The thing I struggle most with my PTSD is that it's never cured. You never stop having PTSD. Some people cope really well and can usually maintain control of their thoughts/feelings while other people don't do as well. I'm lucky that I'm generally the former. With all that's been happening lately, all the loss of lives far too soon, I can't help but hit one of those walls though. This go around, it's the anger and the inability to understand why it happens to one person and not the next.
Why did I survive? Why do others not survive when they have just as much right to live as I do? Why did my husband have to go through the experience of almost losing his wife and mother of his children? My heart aches the most when I think of how he must have felt during that whole ordeal. How do you walk into a room and see hundreds of tubes and wires coming out of the person you love the most while the medical staff is telling you to prepare yourself for the worst? I just go back and forth in my head. It's not fair. It's not right. Life goes on, but it's so much different than before. I guess it's a new kind of life. I appreciate things more now. But in that same line of thought, I worry more too. "Worse Case Scenario" happened to me. I can't explain things away with, "Well, the likelihood of that happening is practically non-existent". That 0.05% chance of something bad happening happened to me! How do you go on with life always wondering what you could have done differently or waiting for that next bad thing to happen? I wish I had the exact answer, but somehow...... you just do. For as long as I'm still alive, life quite literally goes on. I just have to remind myself, more often than I like to admit, that I have to make the best of it rather than be consumed by the things I cannot change. Does my life sometimes stand still and revolve around the memories of that day? Yes. I always snap out of it though and keep moving forward. For as long as I'm able to keep doing that; Life Goes On.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Monday, July 23, 2012
What Defines You?
Every now and again, that timeless ice breaker conversation pops up. "Who are you? What defines you as a person?" There's the average, go-to answers: I'm a wife, a mom, a good friend, etc. And I am all of those things, per titles given to me, but is it really what defines who I am as a person? I'm a good friend, but why am I good friend? I'm a mom, but what kind of mom? I'm married, but how do I make my marriage work? I feel like the answers to those questions offer up more of a clearer picture of what truly defines me.
I'm optimistic, loving, patient, kind, understanding, compassionate and open-minded. I love Jesus and try to live my life the way He would want me to live it, but I fail miserably and often. I'm passionate, opinionated, shy, old-fashioned and motherly. I'm socially awkward and don't feel like I fit in, but very friendly and polite. I'm silly, funny and smart. I stutter when I'm nervous, uncomfortable or overwhelmed. I snort when I laugh really hard.
I love my husband. I love that people gasp when they learn about how young we were when we married and how long we've been happily together. I love that people smile when we tell them about our old-fashioned views on marriage and love. I adore the way he drives me insane but makes me so happy within the same moment. I love the way he makes me laugh when all I wanna do is be upset. And the way that he stands beside me even when I'm in the wrong..... melts a girls heart. I love that he's an old-fashioned gentleman with real manners; and not just because that's what he was taught, but because that's what he truly believes is right.
I love my children. I love the adventure of being a parent. I love that you can make mistakes and keep moving forward; sometimes learning and growing more from the mistakes than from the things that just come naturally. I love that when I'm away from them, I want nothing more than to hear about their day or to watch them interact with their friends. I love that when I'm with them, they smother me with so much affection and love that I'm overwhelmed by it. I love that their smile and their laugh can make me happier than anything else on this planet.
What defines me? It's not that I'm a wife or a mother. It's not my job and it's not who I associate with. What defines me is how I live each day within those titles and within my life. I was Glenna long before I was a mother or a wife. Those things are certainly a part of me and helped me to evolve from a young girl to a strong woman. But at the core of it all, I'm still me and I am what defines all of those things; not the other way around. And I'm happy with that.
I'm optimistic, loving, patient, kind, understanding, compassionate and open-minded. I love Jesus and try to live my life the way He would want me to live it, but I fail miserably and often. I'm passionate, opinionated, shy, old-fashioned and motherly. I'm socially awkward and don't feel like I fit in, but very friendly and polite. I'm silly, funny and smart. I stutter when I'm nervous, uncomfortable or overwhelmed. I snort when I laugh really hard.
I love my husband. I love that people gasp when they learn about how young we were when we married and how long we've been happily together. I love that people smile when we tell them about our old-fashioned views on marriage and love. I adore the way he drives me insane but makes me so happy within the same moment. I love the way he makes me laugh when all I wanna do is be upset. And the way that he stands beside me even when I'm in the wrong..... melts a girls heart. I love that he's an old-fashioned gentleman with real manners; and not just because that's what he was taught, but because that's what he truly believes is right.
I love my children. I love the adventure of being a parent. I love that you can make mistakes and keep moving forward; sometimes learning and growing more from the mistakes than from the things that just come naturally. I love that when I'm away from them, I want nothing more than to hear about their day or to watch them interact with their friends. I love that when I'm with them, they smother me with so much affection and love that I'm overwhelmed by it. I love that their smile and their laugh can make me happier than anything else on this planet.
What defines me? It's not that I'm a wife or a mother. It's not my job and it's not who I associate with. What defines me is how I live each day within those titles and within my life. I was Glenna long before I was a mother or a wife. Those things are certainly a part of me and helped me to evolve from a young girl to a strong woman. But at the core of it all, I'm still me and I am what defines all of those things; not the other way around. And I'm happy with that.
Friday, June 29, 2012
Defining Optimism
I don't think I really need to add much more to that. Wanna know why I'm an optimist (outside of my religious views)? Here ya go. Even in the worst of worsts, even when I'm so stressed that I think my head will explode, and even when I'm so angry that I want to shut the whole world out..... this will ALWAYS be true for me. I may not always feel like I'm doing super great, but I'm always abundantly blessed.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Life Lessons
Sometimes I wonder when our luck is going to run out. Really, really bad things that completely crush some people/families keep happening to us..... but we keep coming out the other side. I'm understanding that luck simply has nothing to do with it.
I've come to the realization that all of these "bad things" aren't really bad things. They are simply life. Life happens all day, every day, all around us. Whether we're expecting it or not. Things change and we go through experiences because nothing ever gets accomplished and no one ever grows/learns if everything just stays the same all the time.
I worried and stressed about Billy losing his job. I don't know how we made it through 4-ish months of unemployment and living on my small income, but we did. It wasn't luck though. It was God's grace. We went through that to learn to be faithful in God's promises. He says He'll provide..... and He did. Why was I so worried and scared through all of that? Because I wasn't as faithful as I should be. Then all of this nonsense with the van. Why was I so scared and stressed? Because I still wasn't being as faithful as I should be. The vehicle is up and running though and I have this visual picture of God saying, "See? Do you get it now? It's all gonna be fine. Learn to trust that!"
As with most things in life though, the only way to truly learn and understand something is to experience it. So all of these "bad things" are simply life lessons. Reassurance that even when everything is bad (which is just a part of life), everything will be good. Because God is good. That which does not kill us will only make us stronger. Not a biblical quote, but pertains just as much as anything else. The things we have gone through over the last several years has nothing to do with punishment or God testing us, it has to do with life lessons. Or, at least, that's how I interpret it. Life is short and life is good, so why worry about the small stuff? God can and will fulfill His promises to provide if I can just get it through my thick skull.
“If life were stable, I'd never need God's help.”
― Francis Chan
I've come to the realization that all of these "bad things" aren't really bad things. They are simply life. Life happens all day, every day, all around us. Whether we're expecting it or not. Things change and we go through experiences because nothing ever gets accomplished and no one ever grows/learns if everything just stays the same all the time.
I worried and stressed about Billy losing his job. I don't know how we made it through 4-ish months of unemployment and living on my small income, but we did. It wasn't luck though. It was God's grace. We went through that to learn to be faithful in God's promises. He says He'll provide..... and He did. Why was I so worried and scared through all of that? Because I wasn't as faithful as I should be. Then all of this nonsense with the van. Why was I so scared and stressed? Because I still wasn't being as faithful as I should be. The vehicle is up and running though and I have this visual picture of God saying, "See? Do you get it now? It's all gonna be fine. Learn to trust that!"
As with most things in life though, the only way to truly learn and understand something is to experience it. So all of these "bad things" are simply life lessons. Reassurance that even when everything is bad (which is just a part of life), everything will be good. Because God is good. That which does not kill us will only make us stronger. Not a biblical quote, but pertains just as much as anything else. The things we have gone through over the last several years has nothing to do with punishment or God testing us, it has to do with life lessons. Or, at least, that's how I interpret it. Life is short and life is good, so why worry about the small stuff? God can and will fulfill His promises to provide if I can just get it through my thick skull.
“If life were stable, I'd never need God's help.”
― Francis Chan
Monday, June 11, 2012
Scariest Night of My Life...... so far
It was almost 9:00 pm and we were all winding down for the night. The kids, as usual, were just as rambunctious as they were at 9:00 am though. I was in the bedroom and Billy was in the kitchen. The kids were in their room horse playing on the top bunk bed for those last few final minutes before we were gonna shoo them off to sleep. All of the sudden, we heard a loud *thud* and a blood curdling scream like I've never heard come out of our children before. I flew through my bedroom and into the hallway about the same time that Billy came running down the hallway. All I saw was Gabe (our eldest) holding his arm at the elbow and his forearm resembling the shape of a Z.
Billy grabbed him and held his arm against his body while I shut myself in the bedroom and dialed 911. I couldn't even look at it, it was so terrible looking. Other than the initial scream though, Gabe was as cool as a cucumber. Shock, I'm sure, but his only request was that he not look at it. I gave the 911 operator our information and headed outside to flag down the ambulance. I could hear them in the distance as I got to the curb.
EMS and Firefighters arrived (at the delight of Brayden, our youngest) and put a cardboard box/splint around the break and carried Gabe to the ambulance. In hindsight, we probably could have driven him ourselves, but it was the craziest thing we'd ever seen and I wasn't too keen on the idea of just casually driving to the hospital and sitting in the waiting room. Ambulance was the most direct route. And it worked. Brayden stayed on the couch ooo-ing and aww-ing at all the lights from the emergency vehicles and Alyssa (our daughter, middle child) was in tears because she was scared and upset. They were also both terrified that they were in TONS of trouble since they were the ones to push him off the bunk bed. It was an accident though, so they got nothing more than a stern talking to.
The hospital went pretty smoothly. We went straight back of course and he was evaluated pretty quickly. Although I did have to roll my eyes at the nurse that asked me, "So when did the symptoms start?" "Uh, when he hit the floor and his bones broke!" She wasn't impressed with my tone nor my answer. I was frazzled though, so I blame my attitude on that.
After some morphine and x-rays, they saw that he had broken both bones in the forearm. One a few inches above the wrist and the other a couple inches above that. A 'very common break', or so I was told. They decided to repair the break with a bier block and manual manipulation of the bones. I had to leave the room because I couldn't watch my little guy go through all that, but everyone said he did pretty good. He hollered and yelled, but I would too if you were shoving my broken bones back together. I don't care how much pain killers I had in me. He's currently in a splint and goes back tomorrow for his appointment with the orthopedic doctor. Hopefully to get his hard cast on. I'll feel MUCH better when he has his hard cast on.
I don't ever want to have to see any of my babies in pain like that again. It was the worst, scariest night of my life..... so far. My poor kids (especially the boys) are accident prone though. I'm sure this won't be the last time we see the inside of the emergency room, but I sure hope it's the last time for quite awhile.
Billy grabbed him and held his arm against his body while I shut myself in the bedroom and dialed 911. I couldn't even look at it, it was so terrible looking. Other than the initial scream though, Gabe was as cool as a cucumber. Shock, I'm sure, but his only request was that he not look at it. I gave the 911 operator our information and headed outside to flag down the ambulance. I could hear them in the distance as I got to the curb.
EMS and Firefighters arrived (at the delight of Brayden, our youngest) and put a cardboard box/splint around the break and carried Gabe to the ambulance. In hindsight, we probably could have driven him ourselves, but it was the craziest thing we'd ever seen and I wasn't too keen on the idea of just casually driving to the hospital and sitting in the waiting room. Ambulance was the most direct route. And it worked. Brayden stayed on the couch ooo-ing and aww-ing at all the lights from the emergency vehicles and Alyssa (our daughter, middle child) was in tears because she was scared and upset. They were also both terrified that they were in TONS of trouble since they were the ones to push him off the bunk bed. It was an accident though, so they got nothing more than a stern talking to.
The hospital went pretty smoothly. We went straight back of course and he was evaluated pretty quickly. Although I did have to roll my eyes at the nurse that asked me, "So when did the symptoms start?" "Uh, when he hit the floor and his bones broke!" She wasn't impressed with my tone nor my answer. I was frazzled though, so I blame my attitude on that.
After some morphine and x-rays, they saw that he had broken both bones in the forearm. One a few inches above the wrist and the other a couple inches above that. A 'very common break', or so I was told. They decided to repair the break with a bier block and manual manipulation of the bones. I had to leave the room because I couldn't watch my little guy go through all that, but everyone said he did pretty good. He hollered and yelled, but I would too if you were shoving my broken bones back together. I don't care how much pain killers I had in me. He's currently in a splint and goes back tomorrow for his appointment with the orthopedic doctor. Hopefully to get his hard cast on. I'll feel MUCH better when he has his hard cast on.
I don't ever want to have to see any of my babies in pain like that again. It was the worst, scariest night of my life..... so far. My poor kids (especially the boys) are accident prone though. I'm sure this won't be the last time we see the inside of the emergency room, but I sure hope it's the last time for quite awhile.
Sunday, June 10, 2012
Charged With Attempted Murder
I'm currently on house arrest due to the charge of "attempted murder". The victim? My mini-van. Hence the house arrest. Can't really go anywhere without any mode of transportation.
It was a typical Wednesday afternoon. Nothing spectacular happening. My brother offered to by lunch, so I figured the least I could do is drive. The gas light was on though and I had been for awhile. I wasn't sure if I could even make it to the gas station to fill up. I had just cleaned out the garage though and knew that I put a gas can on the top shelf that was completely full. That should have been plenty to get me to the gas station.....
So I poured it in the tank, we all piled into the van (my brother, all three kids and myself) and started our short journey to Sonic and then the gas station. Less than 1/4 mile from the house though, the van sputtered, hesitated and died. I had enough momentum to roll into a side street, then I pushed it up to the next residential block to part. Out of gas. Don't know how since I just put 2 gallons in it from the gas can, but alas, it wouldn't start. So my brother started his short trek back to the house to get his car and some gas cans.
When he returned, he had a worried look on his face. He said, "That gas can you used? There was a slightly green puddle around it from where it dripped and the liquid smelled sweet...... like anti-freeze." WHAT?!? I immediately grabbed my cell phone and dialed my husband. "Did you put anti-freeze in one of the gas cans in the garage?" He calmly and casually said, "yes". To which I replied, "YOU DON'T EVER PUT ANYTHING IN A GAS CAN OTHER THAN GAS!!!". My reply was quite loud and aggressive in case you didn't catch on to that. He hollered back at me and I told him that I had mistakenly poured the entire thing into my gas tank.
My brother had brought back two gas cans, so the theory was that we were gonna pour more gas in to dilute the anti-freeze down, start the van up, and all would be right with the world. Everything was not right with the world. Not only would it not start, but now everything electrical quit working. A guy offered to jump my battery, but I explained my predicament and decided that that probably wasn't a good idea. He agreed and drove away.
My brother took the kids in his car and went home while I stayed with the van until my husband could get there. Billy showed up as quick as he could and fiddled around under the hood. Still no go. So we called our roadside assistance for a tow. While waiting, two more good samaritans offered their help and I had to tell them the predicament. Then the two truck driver got there and I had to tell him what I'd done. Then we got to the mechanic and I had to tell him what I'd done. Nothing like having to repeatedly tell strangers all about your stupid mistake. *sigh*
As of date, the van is still sitting at the mechanic. Waiting on a fuel pump. The theory is that anti-freeze is denser than gasoline, it'll sink to the bottom of the gas tanks, they'll drain it all out, flush the lines, replace the fuel pump and everything will be fine. Hopefully the power issue is just simply a safety feature on the car and once they hit "reset" on the computer, she'll come back to life. Only time will tell though.
So in the meantime, I sit here, anxious and embarrassed. Charged with attempted murder of our lovely family mini-van. The sentence? House arrest and fines (ie: a steep mechanic bill that can only go up from here).
It was a typical Wednesday afternoon. Nothing spectacular happening. My brother offered to by lunch, so I figured the least I could do is drive. The gas light was on though and I had been for awhile. I wasn't sure if I could even make it to the gas station to fill up. I had just cleaned out the garage though and knew that I put a gas can on the top shelf that was completely full. That should have been plenty to get me to the gas station.....
So I poured it in the tank, we all piled into the van (my brother, all three kids and myself) and started our short journey to Sonic and then the gas station. Less than 1/4 mile from the house though, the van sputtered, hesitated and died. I had enough momentum to roll into a side street, then I pushed it up to the next residential block to part. Out of gas. Don't know how since I just put 2 gallons in it from the gas can, but alas, it wouldn't start. So my brother started his short trek back to the house to get his car and some gas cans.
When he returned, he had a worried look on his face. He said, "That gas can you used? There was a slightly green puddle around it from where it dripped and the liquid smelled sweet...... like anti-freeze." WHAT?!? I immediately grabbed my cell phone and dialed my husband. "Did you put anti-freeze in one of the gas cans in the garage?" He calmly and casually said, "yes". To which I replied, "YOU DON'T EVER PUT ANYTHING IN A GAS CAN OTHER THAN GAS!!!". My reply was quite loud and aggressive in case you didn't catch on to that. He hollered back at me and I told him that I had mistakenly poured the entire thing into my gas tank.
My brother had brought back two gas cans, so the theory was that we were gonna pour more gas in to dilute the anti-freeze down, start the van up, and all would be right with the world. Everything was not right with the world. Not only would it not start, but now everything electrical quit working. A guy offered to jump my battery, but I explained my predicament and decided that that probably wasn't a good idea. He agreed and drove away.
My brother took the kids in his car and went home while I stayed with the van until my husband could get there. Billy showed up as quick as he could and fiddled around under the hood. Still no go. So we called our roadside assistance for a tow. While waiting, two more good samaritans offered their help and I had to tell them the predicament. Then the two truck driver got there and I had to tell him what I'd done. Then we got to the mechanic and I had to tell him what I'd done. Nothing like having to repeatedly tell strangers all about your stupid mistake. *sigh*
As of date, the van is still sitting at the mechanic. Waiting on a fuel pump. The theory is that anti-freeze is denser than gasoline, it'll sink to the bottom of the gas tanks, they'll drain it all out, flush the lines, replace the fuel pump and everything will be fine. Hopefully the power issue is just simply a safety feature on the car and once they hit "reset" on the computer, she'll come back to life. Only time will tell though.
So in the meantime, I sit here, anxious and embarrassed. Charged with attempted murder of our lovely family mini-van. The sentence? House arrest and fines (ie: a steep mechanic bill that can only go up from here).
Thursday, May 31, 2012
Transitioning and Finding a Balance
A year ago, I was enjoying the summer break with the kids. At least, in hindsight, that's what I think I was doing. At the time though, I'm sure I was already counting down the days until school started again and whining to B.K. about how useless and unaccomplished I felt. All those years of being a stay-at-home mom, I couldn't wait for the weekends so that I could go hang out with friends. I longed to go back to work so that I could make new friends and get out of the house a bit.
Now, I'm enjoying the summer break with the kids. There is no counting down to school though. Not in the happy, can't-wait-for-it-to-get-here sense anyway. Because now, I am working, making new friends and getting out of the house. The problem is, I'm out of the house every single weekday. Work, work, work. It seems like that's all I do now. And although I enjoy my job and I adore the people I work with, I miss my family.
I miss all three kids crawling into bed with me and we all lay around to watch cartoons until 10:00. I miss welcoming B.K. home after a long days work. I miss going to the park early in the morning and playing in the sprinklers later in the afternoon. I miss laying in bed late at night talking to B.K. about all of our future plans. I miss all that stuff. Because now all I do is want to go straight to bed at 8:00 o'clock because I have to be at work by 5:00am. I took it for granted when I had the opportunity to do all those things and now I'm kicking myself.
But the other crappy part is that I've been neglecting my friendships. Not on purpose per se, but my priorities have shifted. Where I used to look forward to hanging out with friends on the weekend, now the weekends are the only time I get to hang out with my family. After missing them all week long, I feel selfish saying, "Sorry kids, no time to watch movies or go to the park. I'm going to hang out with so-and-so instead." But then I feel selfish telling my friends, "Sorry, I can't have lunch with you, because I'm hanging out with my family all day". I just can't seem to find that balance between work, family and friends. Family is ALWAYS #1 in my book, but I have to shelf all of my friendships in the process? Surely that's not right. But how do I balance? How do I work long hours 5 days a week, spend time with my family AND make the time to grow those friendships?
Anybody got an answer? Anyone? No, I didn't think so. Trial and error, I suppose. I just have to keep transitioning into this part of our journey and find that balance.
Now, I'm enjoying the summer break with the kids. There is no counting down to school though. Not in the happy, can't-wait-for-it-to-get-here sense anyway. Because now, I am working, making new friends and getting out of the house. The problem is, I'm out of the house every single weekday. Work, work, work. It seems like that's all I do now. And although I enjoy my job and I adore the people I work with, I miss my family.
I miss all three kids crawling into bed with me and we all lay around to watch cartoons until 10:00. I miss welcoming B.K. home after a long days work. I miss going to the park early in the morning and playing in the sprinklers later in the afternoon. I miss laying in bed late at night talking to B.K. about all of our future plans. I miss all that stuff. Because now all I do is want to go straight to bed at 8:00 o'clock because I have to be at work by 5:00am. I took it for granted when I had the opportunity to do all those things and now I'm kicking myself.
But the other crappy part is that I've been neglecting my friendships. Not on purpose per se, but my priorities have shifted. Where I used to look forward to hanging out with friends on the weekend, now the weekends are the only time I get to hang out with my family. After missing them all week long, I feel selfish saying, "Sorry kids, no time to watch movies or go to the park. I'm going to hang out with so-and-so instead." But then I feel selfish telling my friends, "Sorry, I can't have lunch with you, because I'm hanging out with my family all day". I just can't seem to find that balance between work, family and friends. Family is ALWAYS #1 in my book, but I have to shelf all of my friendships in the process? Surely that's not right. But how do I balance? How do I work long hours 5 days a week, spend time with my family AND make the time to grow those friendships?
Anybody got an answer? Anyone? No, I didn't think so. Trial and error, I suppose. I just have to keep transitioning into this part of our journey and find that balance.
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