It started with Bejeweled. The need for a constant distraction. I'd play the game over and over and over again to keep my mind off of my ever present anguish after losing Korbin. As my high score plateaued, this eventually morphed in to checking my emails constantly. Work, gmail, hotmail. They didn't update fast enough. Then Facebook became the best distraction from the constant pain.
Despite the near constant updating found in Facebook, I would actually go through it constantly enough that at times, it wouldn't update. There wouldn't be a single change when I'd hit refresh as I'd seen everything in my newsfeed already. Maybe this is why I started friending people I barely know, instead of keeping it to just close friends and family. I just need something to distract me. TV is not usually enough, and movies don't generally distract enough either. Facebook for a time was just enough, but only for so long.
What's resulted, however, is the bad habit that, when I'm feeling overly emotional or anxious, I just go to Facebook and scroll, and scroll, and scroll. It's become a habit that needs to be broken, and as much as Ryan would tease me about my Facebook addiction, I never really saw it as that until a friend posted on Facebook recently, "What am I looking for?" This is honestly one of the best questions I've seen as of late, and it's one I am asking myself a lot of the time when I find myself turning to Facebook. Because, of course, I still use it as a distraction. In reality, it's just a major time suck that keeps me from being productive.
These days I am in a better place both mentally and emotionally, and yet the habit persists. Even when an article pops up that sounds interesting, I simply open it and save it for later. And yet, I miss reading. Like whole articles and books. So why don't I just read? Or even sew, or sketch, or paint? These are all things I generally feel I don't have time for, and yet, there's always time for scrolling through Facebook. There's always time to be distracted, even from the anxiety that has now developed. It's funny, too, because anxiety gives me nervous energy that makes me need to DO something, and there are most definitely better avenues for using this energy than scrolling through Facebook.
As my grief journey morphs and I find myself in better places, better moods even, Facebook is becoming something that I don't need any more. It's just a matter of breaking the bad habit and moving forward with better ways to distract myself. More productive ways that are fulfilling more so than distracting. Attempting to fill the void at least feels better than just trying to distract myself from focusing on it. It will never go away, so I guess there's a lot of filling to do over the course of the rest of my life, however long that may be. And there are so many productive ways to fill it that benefit others first and not myself.
I can't imagine a better way to distract myself. My family, my friends, and helping strangers are the best distractions to the ever present pain that is the loss of Korbin, so my time is best spent with them and helping others.
Because I got a lotta love to give.
Friday, March 23, 2018
Sunday, March 11, 2018
Paranoia
My anxiety often leads me down dark paths of paranoia, and this is one thing that brought me to therapy early last year. Now that I have tools to walk myself through these moments, they are just that, a passing moment. Before, they would become all consuming for days or weeks at a time. Did going to therapy stop these dark thoughts completely? No, and that's not the point. What's needed is ways to deal with the thoughts as they come so I can de-escalate myself and remain calm and functional.
For instance, today my mother-in-law watched P while I was at work. About half-way through the day I thought I'd check in on them. Before I could call or text, I noticed an alert on my apple watch saying that the front door had been locked recently. My next thought was wondering if I'd really locked it or not before leaving for work, after she had arrived in the early morning. My very next thought? A serial killer had let himself in, killed them both, as well as the dogs, and if I were able to check a video feed like P's baby monitor, I'd see P's lifeless and bloodied body in his bedroom. Yeah, that escalated quickly. The thoughts are quickly horrific, not likely, and they hit me like a sucker punch to my gut, taking the air out of my lungs. While I know these thoughts stem from losing Korbin and my deep-rooted fear of losing P too soon as well, I can't make them stop. What also fueled my awful thought pathway was seeing via our alarm system app how many times the front and back doors, as well as the garage door, had been opened and closed, locked and unlocked. It just didn't look right and I couldn't reason as to why they would have done that.
Before therapy, this scenario would have left me shaking with anxiety and worry, especially as I didn't hear from my mother-in-law immediately after calling and leaving a voicemail checking in. I'd have been unable to focus easily at work, and would become manic in a random, thoughtless project that "needed" to get done. In other words, I would just try my best to distract myself from my mounting worry, which only made it grow and grow.
Now, as difficult as it seems, and truly is, I actually take myself through the steps of what I'd do if my awful thoughts were reality. If I checked the baby monitor and saw P seemingly dead, what would I do? Leave work immediately with a text/voicemail to my boss. Call 911 as I headed to my car. Pray there was still life somewhere in that little body, in my mother-in-law's as well. Alert my neighbors. Call Ryan. Taking myself through an if-then type process quickly calms me, which helps me to better pass the time more productively as I can then focus on my work until I hear back that everything's great, they were just outside playing in the gorgeous weather we had today and her phone was inside.
My mind makes mountains out of mole hills daily. And though I can't stop it completely, I at least know how to handle it. Before therapy I was quickly going off the deep end of even possibly becoming psychotic from my worries and fears and anxieties. I needed help to control the random impulse thoughts that, really, every person has. Anxiety is part of nature, and it drives many species in their survival. But anxiety can also sometimes take complete control of you. It's why I crave the instant feed-back from a text reply or call back. I need to know and I need to know now. Unrealistic, of course, as life happens and people don't (and shouldn't) always have their phones on them. But, my reality has my phone glued to my hip for constant contact, especially with Ryan and anyone taking care of P in our absence.
I just need to know that everything is okay, all the time, and that P is still here with us.
Because I got a lotta love to give.
For instance, today my mother-in-law watched P while I was at work. About half-way through the day I thought I'd check in on them. Before I could call or text, I noticed an alert on my apple watch saying that the front door had been locked recently. My next thought was wondering if I'd really locked it or not before leaving for work, after she had arrived in the early morning. My very next thought? A serial killer had let himself in, killed them both, as well as the dogs, and if I were able to check a video feed like P's baby monitor, I'd see P's lifeless and bloodied body in his bedroom. Yeah, that escalated quickly. The thoughts are quickly horrific, not likely, and they hit me like a sucker punch to my gut, taking the air out of my lungs. While I know these thoughts stem from losing Korbin and my deep-rooted fear of losing P too soon as well, I can't make them stop. What also fueled my awful thought pathway was seeing via our alarm system app how many times the front and back doors, as well as the garage door, had been opened and closed, locked and unlocked. It just didn't look right and I couldn't reason as to why they would have done that.
Before therapy, this scenario would have left me shaking with anxiety and worry, especially as I didn't hear from my mother-in-law immediately after calling and leaving a voicemail checking in. I'd have been unable to focus easily at work, and would become manic in a random, thoughtless project that "needed" to get done. In other words, I would just try my best to distract myself from my mounting worry, which only made it grow and grow.
Now, as difficult as it seems, and truly is, I actually take myself through the steps of what I'd do if my awful thoughts were reality. If I checked the baby monitor and saw P seemingly dead, what would I do? Leave work immediately with a text/voicemail to my boss. Call 911 as I headed to my car. Pray there was still life somewhere in that little body, in my mother-in-law's as well. Alert my neighbors. Call Ryan. Taking myself through an if-then type process quickly calms me, which helps me to better pass the time more productively as I can then focus on my work until I hear back that everything's great, they were just outside playing in the gorgeous weather we had today and her phone was inside.
My mind makes mountains out of mole hills daily. And though I can't stop it completely, I at least know how to handle it. Before therapy I was quickly going off the deep end of even possibly becoming psychotic from my worries and fears and anxieties. I needed help to control the random impulse thoughts that, really, every person has. Anxiety is part of nature, and it drives many species in their survival. But anxiety can also sometimes take complete control of you. It's why I crave the instant feed-back from a text reply or call back. I need to know and I need to know now. Unrealistic, of course, as life happens and people don't (and shouldn't) always have their phones on them. But, my reality has my phone glued to my hip for constant contact, especially with Ryan and anyone taking care of P in our absence.
I just need to know that everything is okay, all the time, and that P is still here with us.
Because I got a lotta love to give.
Friday, March 2, 2018
Blessed
We are, what I'm sure many would consider, beyond blessed. Not only do we have a roof over our heads, but we have soooo much space under that roof. Not only do we have a full fridge, but at times we don't eat food fast enough and have to throw some in the compost. Or we've eaten so much we feel stuffed. Not only can we afford to pay our bills each month, but we put money in to savings and then have extra to spend on silly things. But, we didn't always have this. We have worked so hard, and continue to do so, to afford the basics and the extras. I want to say that I think we deserve the things we have because we worked so hard to get to this place in life, but I still feel guilty at times that we can have so much when others still have so little, if anything at all.
What I never want to do is brag or sound like we're bragging about the extra things we get to have these days. I'd so much rather we just be grateful for what we get to have, and that others can see and feel how grateful we are. And I do my best to be humble, to not be flashy or showy. Which is hard when some of the things we enjoy are larger, typically flashy. Like cars. Cars aren't cheap, and we love them. The aesthetics, the drive, etc. We'll probably always be buying the next best car. But it's also one of our hobbies.
I think what I've really struggled with as of late is how our economic status now affords us even more, and the "even more" tends to be free. For instance, we recently had the opportunity to test out a new system for a company, and to test it we were given a gift card every week to buy things. This lasted for months. Could we afford to buy things like packs of batteries or a new pan each week? Sure. We didn't need the gift cards, but it sure was awesome to get so much stuff (and stuff we actually wanted, key word, wanted...not needed) for free. But why isn't an opportunity like this available to disadvantaged people? Someone who can't afford to buy a couple of light bulbs when some go out in their apartment? Someone who would buy diapers, or formula instead of a few random baking utensils that haven't been touched in months. Instead, those who can do more than just afford the extra fun things are most likely to receive the opportunity to have things that aren't necessary for free. We accept them happily. But at times it definitely feels greedy. And I worry that we just perpetuate a system that only seeks to further separate the haves from the have nots.
But it's not so easy to just flip the system and have these opportunities available to those who have less. How do we choose who gets these opportunities? Sooo many people could benefit, and yet it's usually just a very small subset of people testing out the product.
It's ponderings like this that drive me to do more for those around me in my community and sometimes even worldwide. To give, and always think of those less fortunate than us. To wonder how I, my family, or even my friends, can do more. One small thing we are doing is collecting items for foster children in the area via P's birthday. This kid has so much, and he doesn't need anything more at this point. So this is something we can do for other kids his age who are in need. Because there is always more that can be done.
And because we got a lotta love to give.
What I never want to do is brag or sound like we're bragging about the extra things we get to have these days. I'd so much rather we just be grateful for what we get to have, and that others can see and feel how grateful we are. And I do my best to be humble, to not be flashy or showy. Which is hard when some of the things we enjoy are larger, typically flashy. Like cars. Cars aren't cheap, and we love them. The aesthetics, the drive, etc. We'll probably always be buying the next best car. But it's also one of our hobbies.
I think what I've really struggled with as of late is how our economic status now affords us even more, and the "even more" tends to be free. For instance, we recently had the opportunity to test out a new system for a company, and to test it we were given a gift card every week to buy things. This lasted for months. Could we afford to buy things like packs of batteries or a new pan each week? Sure. We didn't need the gift cards, but it sure was awesome to get so much stuff (and stuff we actually wanted, key word, wanted...not needed) for free. But why isn't an opportunity like this available to disadvantaged people? Someone who can't afford to buy a couple of light bulbs when some go out in their apartment? Someone who would buy diapers, or formula instead of a few random baking utensils that haven't been touched in months. Instead, those who can do more than just afford the extra fun things are most likely to receive the opportunity to have things that aren't necessary for free. We accept them happily. But at times it definitely feels greedy. And I worry that we just perpetuate a system that only seeks to further separate the haves from the have nots.
But it's not so easy to just flip the system and have these opportunities available to those who have less. How do we choose who gets these opportunities? Sooo many people could benefit, and yet it's usually just a very small subset of people testing out the product.
It's ponderings like this that drive me to do more for those around me in my community and sometimes even worldwide. To give, and always think of those less fortunate than us. To wonder how I, my family, or even my friends, can do more. One small thing we are doing is collecting items for foster children in the area via P's birthday. This kid has so much, and he doesn't need anything more at this point. So this is something we can do for other kids his age who are in need. Because there is always more that can be done.
And because we got a lotta love to give.
Friday, February 23, 2018
Killjoy
Unless I'm with my fellow DBC friends, the topic of having kids and being pregnant often leads to awkward questions as people try to include to me, but then hesitate. Why do they hesitate? It's painfully obvious that they don't really want to know more about my not-so-joyful birth experiences. Which is hard as I want to still be included when chatting about c-sections versus labor, and breastfeeding versus bottle feeding. But, our story is so different from the vast majority of the people we know. And it tends to lead to being excluded for being a killjoy in the conversation.
Recently, some girlfriends and I got together to celebrate a friend moving away soon, excited to see her once more before she moves halfway across the country and we see her less often. She has a tiny baby, and so much of the conversation involved new parenting ideas, birth, and experiences. At one point, one was asking about each of our birth experiences, c-section versus natural (and how natural), and she hesitated for a moment before asking me. And when she asked, it was only if I'd had a c-section. Singular. I'm making some assumptions, but possibly hoping to not bring up our first birth story. I answered boldly that I'd had two c-sections. And, as often happens, silence ensued.
Later in the evening, discussion changed to how often or quickly each of us were having our kids. How close together did we want to have them, why that could be advantageous, and how it all was happening in reality for each of us. I said that if we could have more kids, we had wanted to have them close together, boom boom boom. And kind of timidly added that we did want more. Again, brief silence, some awkward moments before another question to redirect was asked and conversation flowed elsewhere.
I'm not sure what I want exactly, as I even have trouble at times dealing with talking about these life decisions. But what makes it so hard for us is that they weren't a decision we got to make it. It was made for us and we're left wondering why all the time. But ignoring and changing the topic, as often happens, most definitely doesn't help matters. It's disheartening, and leads me to withdraw over the course of the conversation in order to not have to subject everyone around me to the other side of raising a family. The side that isn't perfect and involves heartache and loss. But, I shouldn't have to hide my feelings, especially amongst close friends.
It makes me appreciate my friends who have opened themselves so completely to my grief journey. Those that don't shy away from talking about both my boys, both of my birth experiences, and my pain that is coupled with my joy. It means the world to me to be able to have those few moments of true expression instead of hiding what's in my heart. And I find myself gravitating towards those friends more often as experiences like the ones above continue to happen with other groups of friends.
It's okay to ask me if this aspect of child-rearing totally sucks. The part that took away one child and left us with, yes, just one. Just one child that you can see, not the two that are forever in my heart. It doesn't have to derail conversation completely, and talk of loss doesn't have to last for the rest of the evening. That's what therapy is for (thankfully). But, please just allow me my few minutes of grief, to share it with those I love in exchange for support and empathy.
I hope that I am able to provide for others in this way, too, who are dealing with grief. That I can practice what I preach and show availability in my heart to allow others to grieve as they need to even when I find it difficult to hear it. Because it is hard to not focus on only joy. It's a constant challenge, to continually open yourself up to others' pain. But it's possible, and it's so needed by those grieving.
A constant goal to be better for those around me.
Because I got a lotta love to give.
Recently, some girlfriends and I got together to celebrate a friend moving away soon, excited to see her once more before she moves halfway across the country and we see her less often. She has a tiny baby, and so much of the conversation involved new parenting ideas, birth, and experiences. At one point, one was asking about each of our birth experiences, c-section versus natural (and how natural), and she hesitated for a moment before asking me. And when she asked, it was only if I'd had a c-section. Singular. I'm making some assumptions, but possibly hoping to not bring up our first birth story. I answered boldly that I'd had two c-sections. And, as often happens, silence ensued.
Later in the evening, discussion changed to how often or quickly each of us were having our kids. How close together did we want to have them, why that could be advantageous, and how it all was happening in reality for each of us. I said that if we could have more kids, we had wanted to have them close together, boom boom boom. And kind of timidly added that we did want more. Again, brief silence, some awkward moments before another question to redirect was asked and conversation flowed elsewhere.
I'm not sure what I want exactly, as I even have trouble at times dealing with talking about these life decisions. But what makes it so hard for us is that they weren't a decision we got to make it. It was made for us and we're left wondering why all the time. But ignoring and changing the topic, as often happens, most definitely doesn't help matters. It's disheartening, and leads me to withdraw over the course of the conversation in order to not have to subject everyone around me to the other side of raising a family. The side that isn't perfect and involves heartache and loss. But, I shouldn't have to hide my feelings, especially amongst close friends.
It makes me appreciate my friends who have opened themselves so completely to my grief journey. Those that don't shy away from talking about both my boys, both of my birth experiences, and my pain that is coupled with my joy. It means the world to me to be able to have those few moments of true expression instead of hiding what's in my heart. And I find myself gravitating towards those friends more often as experiences like the ones above continue to happen with other groups of friends.
It's okay to ask me if this aspect of child-rearing totally sucks. The part that took away one child and left us with, yes, just one. Just one child that you can see, not the two that are forever in my heart. It doesn't have to derail conversation completely, and talk of loss doesn't have to last for the rest of the evening. That's what therapy is for (thankfully). But, please just allow me my few minutes of grief, to share it with those I love in exchange for support and empathy.
I hope that I am able to provide for others in this way, too, who are dealing with grief. That I can practice what I preach and show availability in my heart to allow others to grieve as they need to even when I find it difficult to hear it. Because it is hard to not focus on only joy. It's a constant challenge, to continually open yourself up to others' pain. But it's possible, and it's so needed by those grieving.
A constant goal to be better for those around me.
Because I got a lotta love to give.
Friday, February 9, 2018
#metoo
A few weeks ago, I participated in the Women's March 2.0, which is an amazing show of support for women throughout the world. And not just by women, but by men as well. This demonstration comes again after the #metoo movement started on social media, bringing light to the very real and constant abuse of women throughout every aspect of our lives.
To be clear, I have not been raped, but that doesn't undermine the sexual assaults I have experienced. They did, however, make me very uncomfortable, and only I can determine how they made me feel and what justifies them as sexual assault. The experiences range from early childhood to early adulthood, and are from girls as well as men throughout my life. Some from strangers, some were even considered friends. This #metoo movement brings up a lot of pain and anger for many women, and even men, across our country and world wide. But I am thankful for the ability to speak out, and it leaves me wondering what is next. At this point, we're saying, "you can't just do these despicable things and get away with it so easily any more."
This movement also highlights the deep disgust many feel for our current president. Many will deny this, but his dismissiveness of this ill treatment of women is what allows men to continue to pray upon women in such horrid ways. He makes it out to be nothing, which makes it okay in others minds. And this is just perpetuating a deep rooted problem. It is outrageous that there some in my own family who feel the "locker room talk" excuse is completely valid and appropriate, that it explains everything. Again, this just perpetuates the ill treatment toward women. Seeing comments from family defending this made me feel sick to my stomach. If these men, some of them very close to me, feel this way, how can I trust I'll be okay around them? That if I had a girl, she'd be safe? Certainly by their words there would be no defense of emotional support if something were to happen. They probably think it's the woman's fault. And sadly, there hasn't been any defense or support for those in my family who have been raped. These actions cannot be so easily dismissed. And the lack of support is most definitely not forgotten. It makes me feel outraged, and I've honestly lost all respect for those who stand by this "locker room talk" excuse.
Shortly after the president was elected, one family member posted a meme basically saying that if it's okay for female comedians to speak crudely, then it's okay for the president to speak crudely about women. Other family members chimed in with their "damn straight!!" and "yes, exactly!!" But they are completely missing the point being made by these so-called crude female comedians. It is actually the exact opposite of the crude remarks our president stands by. Crudely joking about being prayed upon is not equal to crudely joking about praying upon women. Being assaulted versus assaulting. They are so blind to this obvious difference. And sadly, all I can do is shake my head and just keep my son away from these people as much as possible. I've unfriended, hidden, removed, etc, etc, etc. I fear these negative influences will lead him astray and he could potentially do something that seems innocent by some people's standards, but in light of the #metoo movement, is crossing boundaries. And then what would become of him? We must teach him these boundaries, and pray that he learns to stay away from these negative influences in his life. There's almost a desperate drive to do this, as a way to protect him as well.
Politics shouldn't divide family, but when it brings out their true colors and degrading view points against the women in their lives, this is when division happens. So, instead of allowing their harsh negative views to enter my life daily, I am now filling my news feeds with the strong and courageous women in my life who inspire me to do more. They continue to put themselves out in to the limelight despite the sexist bullshit they deal with daily. They are fighting the good fight for equality and just treatment. And this doesn't stop with just women, it extends to the POC and LGBTQ communities as well. There are too many marginalized groups in this day and age, and it saddens my heart that we are still having these fights.
But, that's just it. We're still fighting. For equality, for justice, for love, and for so much more.
Because we got a lotta love to give.
To be clear, I have not been raped, but that doesn't undermine the sexual assaults I have experienced. They did, however, make me very uncomfortable, and only I can determine how they made me feel and what justifies them as sexual assault. The experiences range from early childhood to early adulthood, and are from girls as well as men throughout my life. Some from strangers, some were even considered friends. This #metoo movement brings up a lot of pain and anger for many women, and even men, across our country and world wide. But I am thankful for the ability to speak out, and it leaves me wondering what is next. At this point, we're saying, "you can't just do these despicable things and get away with it so easily any more."
This movement also highlights the deep disgust many feel for our current president. Many will deny this, but his dismissiveness of this ill treatment of women is what allows men to continue to pray upon women in such horrid ways. He makes it out to be nothing, which makes it okay in others minds. And this is just perpetuating a deep rooted problem. It is outrageous that there some in my own family who feel the "locker room talk" excuse is completely valid and appropriate, that it explains everything. Again, this just perpetuates the ill treatment toward women. Seeing comments from family defending this made me feel sick to my stomach. If these men, some of them very close to me, feel this way, how can I trust I'll be okay around them? That if I had a girl, she'd be safe? Certainly by their words there would be no defense of emotional support if something were to happen. They probably think it's the woman's fault. And sadly, there hasn't been any defense or support for those in my family who have been raped. These actions cannot be so easily dismissed. And the lack of support is most definitely not forgotten. It makes me feel outraged, and I've honestly lost all respect for those who stand by this "locker room talk" excuse.
Shortly after the president was elected, one family member posted a meme basically saying that if it's okay for female comedians to speak crudely, then it's okay for the president to speak crudely about women. Other family members chimed in with their "damn straight!!" and "yes, exactly!!" But they are completely missing the point being made by these so-called crude female comedians. It is actually the exact opposite of the crude remarks our president stands by. Crudely joking about being prayed upon is not equal to crudely joking about praying upon women. Being assaulted versus assaulting. They are so blind to this obvious difference. And sadly, all I can do is shake my head and just keep my son away from these people as much as possible. I've unfriended, hidden, removed, etc, etc, etc. I fear these negative influences will lead him astray and he could potentially do something that seems innocent by some people's standards, but in light of the #metoo movement, is crossing boundaries. And then what would become of him? We must teach him these boundaries, and pray that he learns to stay away from these negative influences in his life. There's almost a desperate drive to do this, as a way to protect him as well.
Politics shouldn't divide family, but when it brings out their true colors and degrading view points against the women in their lives, this is when division happens. So, instead of allowing their harsh negative views to enter my life daily, I am now filling my news feeds with the strong and courageous women in my life who inspire me to do more. They continue to put themselves out in to the limelight despite the sexist bullshit they deal with daily. They are fighting the good fight for equality and just treatment. And this doesn't stop with just women, it extends to the POC and LGBTQ communities as well. There are too many marginalized groups in this day and age, and it saddens my heart that we are still having these fights.
But, that's just it. We're still fighting. For equality, for justice, for love, and for so much more.
Because we got a lotta love to give.
Friday, February 2, 2018
35 for 35
Sometimes I become overwhelmed thinking about all the people in need. And not just within the US, but throughout the entire world. From needing clean water, to just needing water period, those of us who are blessed beyond our means, whether we know it or not, have much work to do for those around us. For me, it's what being a Christian means. Going to church every Sunday, in my mind, isn't what makes someone a Christian. Anyone can sit through a lecture and leave and not follow through in their actions. To me, being a Christian means being called to action to serve those around me, near and far, who need help. And actually DOING SOMETHING to help them.
Each year we sit down and decide where our monetary donations will go for the year. We try to do a little more each year, as well. It's great to know we can take action in such a removed way, and have that action be so varied. But, that's the kicker, we're completely removed from the actual help. And it benefits us as we sit down to do our taxes each year, too. Don't get me wrong, we appreciate being able to help and have it benefit us, it's a great system that drives those with more to help those with less.
But how much does that help actually affect us spiritually, emotionally, mentally? Again, we're completely removed from doing anything really. How would it feel to actually be taking some action without a reward for us? Maybe you've heard of people doing so many actions a year for what age they are, a 20 for 20, or 30 for 30. Well, today I'm 35, and I decided at the beginning of the year that I need to do a 35 for 35. It's kind of a lot, 3 things a month to be set up and done. But, it's doable. It'll dig in to my personal time in which I have a million things that I *need* to get done. This will take some serious effort to set up each action. It's a big goal, but I'm ready to take it on.
I actually kicked it off with something last Friday. Each year, throughout the US, volunteers get in to their cars at 2am toward the end of January and count all the homeless people they can find throughout their county. These numbers are what are then used by groups to estimate the need they'll have to provide for this entire year. The more I read about it, the more I needed to do this. Helping the homeless has been something I've been drawn to do since I was much younger. I'd question my mom over and over again about the food waste from restaurants and grocery stores, why can't they just give it to the homeless. Why can't abandoned buildings be set up with cots, etc, etc. I met someone online a couple of years ago who had been homeless, and now is helping with her own programs, and I questioned her for days. My gut reaction to her answers was that the homeless don't actually need our help. As a whole, they are wanderers who have trouble fitting in to the confines of society. They want to camp year round, but this means being considered too dirty for a job that can afford them showers and clean clothes and hair cuts. They want to do their drugs in peace. But this means being looked down upon by a society that still doesn't fully understand addiction. My gut reaction, essentially, was why should anyone help them? Her response: they are still people who are having a hard time in life, who are less fortunate than you or I, and who still deserve three meals a day. Sometimes children are involved, which is heart breaking. Whether they want it or not, they still need help.
I now follow several homeless pages on Facebook, through which I learned of the counting project. Waking up at 1am to drive around a given area on a map seriously does not sound like fun. I feel nauseous when I don't get enough sleep, or have to wake up before 4am (seriously, I've puked before just from waking up super early). But, these people will only be able to have access to food and sanitary supplies if others know how many to prepare for in this year. They can't count themselves. It's a very coordinated effort that the leaders painstakingly do their best to train others to do. The territory to cover is HUGE. As of the training meeting, Renton did not have enough volunteers to cover the whole area that needed counting. And this scared me. How will these people get help if they're not counted in the first place?!? But by last Friday, the meeting place we were to all depart from was FILLED. This restored some faith in the world for me, and it felt like we could actually get this job done. This is a completely thankless job. There's no celebration, I don't get to see the numbers. I just know what I saw, and that was three different vehicles - two vans and a car - most definitely being lived in, something I can't imagine with the huge house we live in filled with so many possessions.
This was something bigger than me, and something that did not benefit me in any way. And it still felt good that I was able to participate and get my part of the job done. There are many other activities I hope to do in my 35th year, including volunteering at a soup kitchen, helping to make shoes for children in other countries affected by jiggers, putting together care bags for the homeless, etc. There is so much work to be done, work that is meaningful to others. Something that is more than just giving money to a group that hopefully does the appropriate things it says it will do with said money. And hopefully this will lead to a new habit that will continue on beyond my 35th year.
Because I got a lotta love to give.
Each year we sit down and decide where our monetary donations will go for the year. We try to do a little more each year, as well. It's great to know we can take action in such a removed way, and have that action be so varied. But, that's the kicker, we're completely removed from the actual help. And it benefits us as we sit down to do our taxes each year, too. Don't get me wrong, we appreciate being able to help and have it benefit us, it's a great system that drives those with more to help those with less.
But how much does that help actually affect us spiritually, emotionally, mentally? Again, we're completely removed from doing anything really. How would it feel to actually be taking some action without a reward for us? Maybe you've heard of people doing so many actions a year for what age they are, a 20 for 20, or 30 for 30. Well, today I'm 35, and I decided at the beginning of the year that I need to do a 35 for 35. It's kind of a lot, 3 things a month to be set up and done. But, it's doable. It'll dig in to my personal time in which I have a million things that I *need* to get done. This will take some serious effort to set up each action. It's a big goal, but I'm ready to take it on.
I actually kicked it off with something last Friday. Each year, throughout the US, volunteers get in to their cars at 2am toward the end of January and count all the homeless people they can find throughout their county. These numbers are what are then used by groups to estimate the need they'll have to provide for this entire year. The more I read about it, the more I needed to do this. Helping the homeless has been something I've been drawn to do since I was much younger. I'd question my mom over and over again about the food waste from restaurants and grocery stores, why can't they just give it to the homeless. Why can't abandoned buildings be set up with cots, etc, etc. I met someone online a couple of years ago who had been homeless, and now is helping with her own programs, and I questioned her for days. My gut reaction to her answers was that the homeless don't actually need our help. As a whole, they are wanderers who have trouble fitting in to the confines of society. They want to camp year round, but this means being considered too dirty for a job that can afford them showers and clean clothes and hair cuts. They want to do their drugs in peace. But this means being looked down upon by a society that still doesn't fully understand addiction. My gut reaction, essentially, was why should anyone help them? Her response: they are still people who are having a hard time in life, who are less fortunate than you or I, and who still deserve three meals a day. Sometimes children are involved, which is heart breaking. Whether they want it or not, they still need help.
I now follow several homeless pages on Facebook, through which I learned of the counting project. Waking up at 1am to drive around a given area on a map seriously does not sound like fun. I feel nauseous when I don't get enough sleep, or have to wake up before 4am (seriously, I've puked before just from waking up super early). But, these people will only be able to have access to food and sanitary supplies if others know how many to prepare for in this year. They can't count themselves. It's a very coordinated effort that the leaders painstakingly do their best to train others to do. The territory to cover is HUGE. As of the training meeting, Renton did not have enough volunteers to cover the whole area that needed counting. And this scared me. How will these people get help if they're not counted in the first place?!? But by last Friday, the meeting place we were to all depart from was FILLED. This restored some faith in the world for me, and it felt like we could actually get this job done. This is a completely thankless job. There's no celebration, I don't get to see the numbers. I just know what I saw, and that was three different vehicles - two vans and a car - most definitely being lived in, something I can't imagine with the huge house we live in filled with so many possessions.
This was something bigger than me, and something that did not benefit me in any way. And it still felt good that I was able to participate and get my part of the job done. There are many other activities I hope to do in my 35th year, including volunteering at a soup kitchen, helping to make shoes for children in other countries affected by jiggers, putting together care bags for the homeless, etc. There is so much work to be done, work that is meaningful to others. Something that is more than just giving money to a group that hopefully does the appropriate things it says it will do with said money. And hopefully this will lead to a new habit that will continue on beyond my 35th year.
Because I got a lotta love to give.
Friday, January 19, 2018
Guilt
Guilt is fairly common when dealing with child loss. And it's not just the personal aspects stemming from the events leading up to the loss that involve self blame, but this guilt extends to multiple avenues and in to some very different relationships. It can be difficult to navigate the relationships involved.
The first route of this guilt that I felt, and still feel most often, surrounds my relationships with my fellow loss community parents. We've all experienced the harrowing loss of a child. We've come together to support each other with this mutual understanding of pain, fear, and even jealousy toward the outside world of naive parents who haven't experienced a loss (and hopefully they never do, too). We cheer each other on when we are able to move forward and continue trying to build our families. And yet, not all of us have been able to move forward in this way. For many of us, it becomes a desperate struggle. We couldn't bring the lost child in to the world safely, so we must do things differently and get pregnant quickly and easily and have a healthy child. For me, the drive to do this was insane. I can't speak for the rest within my close group of the intensity of this drive, but for me, it was even stronger than my initial internal drive to have children before losing Korbin. But I have some very dear friends within my group that are still struggling, and it breaks my heart. They want a child with them just like any of us, but they haven't experienced the success of bringing one in to this world just yet. And it makes me feel so guilty that I get to have P. We're all friends on social media, where I want to share P's successes daily, but I also find myself holding back knowing there are others out there who want to be sharing the same things, but are not able to (hopefully just yet). I totally understand the feeling of jealousy toward those that have children, especially when we were without after leaving the hospital from Korbin's birth. Because I can understand from what I was feeling in that time before P, I can only try to imagine how it has intensified over time as so many around them have finally had children without them, and are continuing to do so. Each success must be a blow to their fragile hearts. They are just the sweetest, kindest, people. But I totally get it when they don't show up to the rainbow baby filled events the rest of us have these days. And man, that guilt though.
The next guilt I experienced, was from finding out some dear friends were stopping their fertility journey despite not having children from it. This one cuts hard and deep as I work in the fertility world and I want joy for every patient I work with. Granted, I'm in the lab, which is a bit removed clinically from the patient care. But every specimen, every case, we hope brings joy to the patients involved. And it is so disheartening when it doesn't. As I was telling some who just revealed the end to their fertility journey recently, we specialists hope for success for every patient who comes through our clinic, and it is so hard for us to accept that there wasn't anything we could do to help some. We want to think we have all the answers, can solve all the problems. But nothing, sadly, is one hundred percent. I feel especially touched by these losses having suffered a loss myself, which deepens my empathy toward the families dealing with this. And yet, I also recognize that it is not the same. We can get pregnant with ease, we've cleared that hurdle without issues. These people have not even been allowed that joy. While it hurts to know others experience loss as well (something I wouldn't even wish upon my worst enemy), their loss seems, to me, even deeper. And I don't know how to connect with that. I want to support their pain, but I tread lightly not knowing the right things to say. God forbid I ask about adoption or fostering, donor eggs or embryos. It's the natural next questions to ask, and yet I can remember being asked those questions after Korbin and feeling so angry and appalled anyone would suggest such things. It's just not that easy. And yet, here we are with P living our lives with a child and experiencing the joy and frustration of raising this little human. All while some of our loved ones literally cannot experience such feelings, no matter how hard they've tried.
Then there's the guilt I feel toward anyone who knows me who has gotten pregnant and had a child since we lost Korbin. Some of them have stayed away from me, most likely not wanting any of the bad-juju I must be carrying since I lost a child. And they of course don't want to take their chances and experience the loss themselves. And some have even confessed their new-found anxiety in knowing that child loss exists because of Korbin. A friend has even told us of not wanting children because of now knowing the chances of losing a child, even though it really is a small chance in this day and age. Great, we have affected others negatively when it comes to starting or continuing parenting journeys. This is so opposite the guilt I feel with my fellow loss parents. I mean, this final group, for the most part, knows the joys of having children, and have easily had children. And yet, they are letting others' experiences stop them from continuing to experience this joy. Versus those within my loss group, or those experiencing infertility, who still don't know the joys of having children with them but allow that drive to build their family to push them in to uncharted territories. I feel guilty that my experiences can affect others so deeply.
Through these different avenues of guilt, I do my best to continue to navigate the many relationships around us that are affected in ways we couldn't have ever imagined after the initial shock of losing Korbin. It's hard to just move forward in a carefree way and just so outwardly enjoy and share parenting. Not only because of our own personal loss, losing Korbin, but now too because of how our loss affects those around us. So, I just do my best to not complain about parenting struggles in front of them. Try to keep any parenting talk light-hearted and funny. But then does that only further their pain of loss? Are we driving their feelings of longing to reach new heights? Sometimes, Ryan jokes to others without kids, "do you really want kids?" Especially when P is really acting up, being his crazy three year old self. That one even makes me cringe a little bit. Of course they want this. The typical teasing becomes difficult. I guess there will always be some we need to walk on egg shells with, and I mean that with respect and love, empathy. Especially as it is probably how others around us feel about their relationship with us. We have to do our best to be conscious of the struggles and fears in others. We hope for this from others who know of Korbin's absence in our lives.
So, if you are reading this and know that you're part of any of the groups above, also know that you are in my thoughts and prayers constantly. We just want the same happiness for you. And we don't meant to bring up feelings of longing or jealousy.
Because we got a lotta love to give.
The first route of this guilt that I felt, and still feel most often, surrounds my relationships with my fellow loss community parents. We've all experienced the harrowing loss of a child. We've come together to support each other with this mutual understanding of pain, fear, and even jealousy toward the outside world of naive parents who haven't experienced a loss (and hopefully they never do, too). We cheer each other on when we are able to move forward and continue trying to build our families. And yet, not all of us have been able to move forward in this way. For many of us, it becomes a desperate struggle. We couldn't bring the lost child in to the world safely, so we must do things differently and get pregnant quickly and easily and have a healthy child. For me, the drive to do this was insane. I can't speak for the rest within my close group of the intensity of this drive, but for me, it was even stronger than my initial internal drive to have children before losing Korbin. But I have some very dear friends within my group that are still struggling, and it breaks my heart. They want a child with them just like any of us, but they haven't experienced the success of bringing one in to this world just yet. And it makes me feel so guilty that I get to have P. We're all friends on social media, where I want to share P's successes daily, but I also find myself holding back knowing there are others out there who want to be sharing the same things, but are not able to (hopefully just yet). I totally understand the feeling of jealousy toward those that have children, especially when we were without after leaving the hospital from Korbin's birth. Because I can understand from what I was feeling in that time before P, I can only try to imagine how it has intensified over time as so many around them have finally had children without them, and are continuing to do so. Each success must be a blow to their fragile hearts. They are just the sweetest, kindest, people. But I totally get it when they don't show up to the rainbow baby filled events the rest of us have these days. And man, that guilt though.
The next guilt I experienced, was from finding out some dear friends were stopping their fertility journey despite not having children from it. This one cuts hard and deep as I work in the fertility world and I want joy for every patient I work with. Granted, I'm in the lab, which is a bit removed clinically from the patient care. But every specimen, every case, we hope brings joy to the patients involved. And it is so disheartening when it doesn't. As I was telling some who just revealed the end to their fertility journey recently, we specialists hope for success for every patient who comes through our clinic, and it is so hard for us to accept that there wasn't anything we could do to help some. We want to think we have all the answers, can solve all the problems. But nothing, sadly, is one hundred percent. I feel especially touched by these losses having suffered a loss myself, which deepens my empathy toward the families dealing with this. And yet, I also recognize that it is not the same. We can get pregnant with ease, we've cleared that hurdle without issues. These people have not even been allowed that joy. While it hurts to know others experience loss as well (something I wouldn't even wish upon my worst enemy), their loss seems, to me, even deeper. And I don't know how to connect with that. I want to support their pain, but I tread lightly not knowing the right things to say. God forbid I ask about adoption or fostering, donor eggs or embryos. It's the natural next questions to ask, and yet I can remember being asked those questions after Korbin and feeling so angry and appalled anyone would suggest such things. It's just not that easy. And yet, here we are with P living our lives with a child and experiencing the joy and frustration of raising this little human. All while some of our loved ones literally cannot experience such feelings, no matter how hard they've tried.
Then there's the guilt I feel toward anyone who knows me who has gotten pregnant and had a child since we lost Korbin. Some of them have stayed away from me, most likely not wanting any of the bad-juju I must be carrying since I lost a child. And they of course don't want to take their chances and experience the loss themselves. And some have even confessed their new-found anxiety in knowing that child loss exists because of Korbin. A friend has even told us of not wanting children because of now knowing the chances of losing a child, even though it really is a small chance in this day and age. Great, we have affected others negatively when it comes to starting or continuing parenting journeys. This is so opposite the guilt I feel with my fellow loss parents. I mean, this final group, for the most part, knows the joys of having children, and have easily had children. And yet, they are letting others' experiences stop them from continuing to experience this joy. Versus those within my loss group, or those experiencing infertility, who still don't know the joys of having children with them but allow that drive to build their family to push them in to uncharted territories. I feel guilty that my experiences can affect others so deeply.
Through these different avenues of guilt, I do my best to continue to navigate the many relationships around us that are affected in ways we couldn't have ever imagined after the initial shock of losing Korbin. It's hard to just move forward in a carefree way and just so outwardly enjoy and share parenting. Not only because of our own personal loss, losing Korbin, but now too because of how our loss affects those around us. So, I just do my best to not complain about parenting struggles in front of them. Try to keep any parenting talk light-hearted and funny. But then does that only further their pain of loss? Are we driving their feelings of longing to reach new heights? Sometimes, Ryan jokes to others without kids, "do you really want kids?" Especially when P is really acting up, being his crazy three year old self. That one even makes me cringe a little bit. Of course they want this. The typical teasing becomes difficult. I guess there will always be some we need to walk on egg shells with, and I mean that with respect and love, empathy. Especially as it is probably how others around us feel about their relationship with us. We have to do our best to be conscious of the struggles and fears in others. We hope for this from others who know of Korbin's absence in our lives.
So, if you are reading this and know that you're part of any of the groups above, also know that you are in my thoughts and prayers constantly. We just want the same happiness for you. And we don't meant to bring up feelings of longing or jealousy.
Because we got a lotta love to give.
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