True Dat!

Oh yeah.



Thank you, Amanda!

Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow.

Yesterday was Mother's Day - my 19th one to celebrate. It also happened to fall 23 years to the day since Sean and I shared the kiss and first date that started all of this madness we have been blessed with. But the sentiment doesn't stop there. Oh no.

Our oldest son, Alexx, normally attends church with us. In fact, even when the parents do not go for some reason, he goes without us and then returns home later to call us pagans. Yesterday morning, however, he had an appointment before church and joined us a bit later.

As we were leaving Starbucks on our way to church (I'd like to say it was a Mother's Day special event, but ...), I looked over to see Alexx walking from his van to his appointment  - with his Marine recruiter. His appointment to get his paperwork going with the new recruiter. His appointment to start the ball rolling to leave us for good.

I was faced with an ocean of emotions. Like a survivor floating in the middle of the sea, I was lost thinking of where I started this journey and longing to see land; but not knowing what that land will bring or whether or not it will be safer or even more dangerous than where I am now.

Sean and I began this journey together 23 years ago yesterday when we moved from being the friends we'd been since meeting at 13 years old to a couple. A very unlikely couple. It continues to be an amazing journey with so much to be grateful to God for. Happiness, growing in the same direction, fun and laughter, three beautiful sons, faith in God, survival.

This was all heavy on my mind as I thought about the present day - my 19th Mother's Day - and everything I'd been through bringing me to this point in my life. Let's be honest, here. Mothering my three boys with their combined ADD, ADHD, autism, mood disorder and now Asperger's is quite the challenge on a daily basis. Which takes me back to being even more grateful for the last 23 years with this man whom I love so dearly. We couldn't have done it without the relationship that we have spent all these years building. It is not perfect - not even close - but it is what has delivered me to this 19th Mother's Day without losing every last marble in my head.

And as I look to the future with trepidation thinking about my first born leaving us, leaving the safety of my arms, to fly on his own - and into such a dangerous future of his own - it all feels a bit unreal. I don't think it will fully hit me until he literally walks out of my arms that day when he leaves. But seeing him walking into that meeting as I was basking in my Mother's Day glow forced it to the front of my mind (a place it is not allowed to be right now), and I thought it was going to suffocate me for just a minute until I was able to push it to the back of my mind again where it belongs for the time being. I want to keep being frustrated with him for not picking up his socks or taking his laundry out of the dryer - not wondering where he even is and worrying for his very life.

I'm not ready for that. Will I ever be?

You are always told, as a mama, not to wish your kids' childhoods away - not to miss too much of the present with them trying to get to some point in the future. I am aware of this now that I have a 19-year-old and know just how fast the time goes. I am painfully aware of it now that his leaving to walk, eyes wide open, into a very uncertain future is inching ever closer like a freight train. My only consolation is that he is doing exactly what he wants to do, and going toward a life that he feels God is leading him into.

Grateful for the yesterdays that brought me to the present I am now in; feeling blessed that I can handle today and what it is throwing at me; prayerful that I will handle with grace the future that is quickly becoming the present.

Whatever that may be.

And I Just Made It Into the Front Door In Time!

Alexx and I are laughing our fool heads off at this man describing his encounter with some dogs. Enjoy!



Thank you, God, for sending humor today.

Emotional Flooding Ahead

***Warning*** If you aren't in the mood for a pity party, stop here.

Being the parent of a special needs child is, really, indescribable. This is mostly because the words that would accurately depict what it is like on a day-to-day basis change, oh, hourly. Further complicating this with the fact that the special needs in our family are on the autism spectrum along with what the medical community calls "comorbid" diagnoses (ADHD, mood disorder) - and you've got mental and emotional scrambled eggs.

You put on a brave face; sometimes you break down. You deal with it - sometimes any way you can - to keep sane. Then, when you've had some sleep and you are thinking more clearly, you apply, to the best of your ability, the recommendations and techniques you've learned from therapists and doctors and teachers and counselors and whomever else you've sought out for help. And you take it one step further to educate those who spend any time at all with your children to give them as much understanding as possible in order to deal with them appropriately. This is only the beginning of the exhaustion.

The money flies out the window almost as quickly as your peace of mind and sense of hope for normalcy, and you try to quell the thinking and worrying about the future for your own sanity. Financial exhaustion.

I've been through the initial stages of a new diagnosis before. Our youngest was diagnosed with autism at the age of 2 1/2 years. It was full steam ahead from that point on to pull him out as much as possible. He is now 7 and his progress has been amazing. Most who do not know him or his history cannot see his autism until we tell them. But the fact remains that he is still on the spectrum and we must deal with the ways this manifests itself daily.

I do not want to talk here about our oldest son (19) and the continuing struggle with his ADD, which started at around age 10.

We are now two years into an ADHD turned mood disorder turned Asperger's diagnosis with our 12-year-old son; and we are still in the learning stages. In other words, we are still turning in circles. This should not feel so new. This should feel "old hat." But the truth is, you never get "comfortable" living with the issues of your special needs kids, usually because those issues are ever-changing and you are constantly adapting and making your way through something new or something old that is evolving or worsening. As a special needs family, there is no sitting back on your laurels. You are not afforded that luxury. Mental exhaustion.

So you drive older cars while those around you can choose not to. You take one vacation as a couple in 18 years of marriage. You fight with the insurance company over every $1 they try not to pay. You live in chaos sometimes because some days you just. don't. have. the. energy. to keep it all running smoothly. And sometimes, no matter how hard you try, it WILL NOT RUN SMOOTHLY. No matter what. And things not running smoothly makes all the issues of your children amplified. It's a vicious cycle.

You lose your temper. You lose your grip. And when the smiles leave your face for weeks at a time, you lose your friends. Because even though they think they understand, they do not. Unless you are dealing with three kids with ongoing issues and have, on some level, for the last nine years with no end in sight - you do not know. Unless you are in this house every day starting at 6:00 a.m. and ending at 11:00 p.m., you do not know. Unless you meet with the number of people that I have met with over time to help your kids, and have fielded all the phone calls and e-mails, and tried your best to keep it all straight, you do not know.

Unless you have to watch each of your children struggle so heartbreakingly on an ongoing basis that you question God's very plan, you do not know.

Emotional exhaustion.

This brings me to a small side note - if you happen to have any issues of your own, you are dead in the water - because you have nothing left with which to deal with it.

So you employ humor. You try to act like you can handle it all. You see others around you spending time doing worthwhile things in the world, while you can barely even keep your own sons on the right track. You may have talent, but it is buried below all the rubble.

I am feeling more isolated than ever right now. There have been times, over these hard years, that I've been able to get my head above water long enough only to look around, feel completely left behind, and be pulled back under again.

Nothing I would like to accomplish gets much past the initial stages these days because I get pulled in a million directions; and if I'm accomplishing something for myself, that means that some issue with one of my sons is going either unnoticed or will spin out of control soon without intervention.

Why all three? I do not know. Why us? No idea. Am I doing all I can? Probably not. Would I choose different children if given the chance? Not. On. Your. Life. I love each of them with every fiber of my being; and they are each going to do fantastic things someday.

God willing.


photo by Asif Akbar

Hello, Spring!

I'm sitting up - it's after midnight - and it's starting to thunder and lightning; and I can't tell you how happy I am right now.

Why?

Because 1.) that means that it's SPRING and I haven't been dreaming the weather of the previous week, and 2.) Weather.com shows that by the time I get up again in the morning, the short rain will be gone and it should be sunny.

What a great end to a beautiful Easter celebrating the resurrection of Christ!

And I leave you with this photo of my middle son, Joel, and me taken yesterday while coloring Easter eggs. He has such an incredibly nurturing heart, just like his dad; looks just like his dad; has the comedic timing of his dad; and someone, some day, will be blessed to have him for a husband.

Who Are You to Someone Else?

God gives us all kinds of people in our lives to fulfill different needs. Some make us laugh uncontrollably, some make us think deeper than we necessarily would otherwise, some give us hope, others give us strength . . . and I could go on and on. The point is, everyone we know lends something important to our journey and is there for us at different times, depending on what our needs our. And the same is true on the flip side - we are exactly what someone else in our life needs at some point, for some reason.

So you're in a pit - a deep one - for whatever reason. It happens to us all. I work visually, so this is how it feels to me.


You are literally in a deep, narrow pit. All by yourself sitting there, and the sun seems so far up above you that it is only a speck - way up - where the entrance to this pit is. You've tried 10 different ways to climb out, but you just keep slipping back down. You can't seem to get a grip on the sides; it's slippery, or maybe so dry and rocky that it just crumbles when you try to dig in somewhere to go up.

You're tired of trying, so you slump back down and think, "Maybe tomorrow I can do it."

In the meantime, plenty of people stop by. You know all of them. There are those who have busy, chaotic lives of their own who genuinely care about you, but really can't help you. They do care enough to check in, make sure you are okay, and perhaps lend an encouraging word or two. It feels good to see them, to hear from them; but you're still down here and they are still up there, looking in.

There are those who recognize the pit you are in, but their decision is to yell at you from up there, outside the pit, to try and get you to come on out, already. This is their style, they think they are helping. But really, they don't get it and probably don't really want to. "Come on! You have to get out of there now. People depend on you. GET. UP. Get on your feet and CLIMB. Just do it!" They do not understand how hard you have been trying. They have not felt the walls of this pit - how impossible they are to navigate. They just see that you are not where you are supposed to be and you need to get out. Now. They almost always play the devil's advocate role. Sometimes this works. Other times it just makes you want to run from them.

There are those who stop by, it seems, just to make sure you are still there. They sort of wander by, look down at you in the pit, "Hey, just wanted to confirm you are still there! Take care!" and are gone again. Okay. They aren't meaning any harm, they are just not the people God intends to use to help you.

There are those who recognize the struggle you are having, really really want to be able to do something, but haven't a clue where to start. Their concern is genuine; and they will sit at the edge of the pit, dangle their feet over the side, and listen to every word you have to say. They will ask you over and over what they can do to help get you out of there. I like to think that God puts these people there to lend you an ear, make you feel loved - even if only for an hour or so- and, honestly, just to get the chance to feel a sense of "thank goodness I'm not her." No, I'm not joking. I truly think that we are sometimes put into someone else's life to give the other person some perspective.

Then there are these people. These very special people God has chosen this time to make a whopping difference. You know who they are.

It's the person whose voice you hear at the opening of the pit, waaaaay up there who rolls up his or her sleeves, grabs whatever they can for the journey and simply says, "I'm coming down there." They don't wait for your response, don't expect an answer. They don't know what they're getting into and have no idea how they, themselves, will get back out; but it doesn't matter to them. What matters is getting into it with you because if you are there, they want to be there, too.

It's the person who, in the face of your trying to hold back the tears, looks you dead in the eye and says, "I'm here. And I'm getting right in this with you." I'm. Coming. Down. There. They may have all these ideas of advice, of what they think you should be doing, visions of shaking you to bring you to reality. But what they do is simply get into the pit with you to be able to give you a boost from there. And sit and listen for as long as you need to until you are even ready to try once again to make the climb.

On the day we were leaving our home in Houston, Texas, I was in about the worst emotional shape I'd ever been in up to that point in my life. I had spent four years making the best friends of my life - friends who'd become my family in the absence of my actual family. On this last day, during these last hours, my very special friend across the street was gone for the day at an important class. We had said our tearful, ugly-cry goodbye the night before, knowing that Sean and I would be gone before she returned home the next day.

However, much like things often happen, we'd been delayed in leaving for several reasons - the very last one being the fact that, when we pulled up the rug we'd had in our foyer in front of the door - the two-sided tape we'd used to keep it in place was now on the tile like super glue. No big deal, right?

Well, in my crazy, emotionally-frazzled state, this tape had to come off. We couldn't leave it for the new owners to deal with. We tried everything to get this stuff off to no avail. We'd planned on getting on the road by a certain time and it was hours past that. The next thing I knew, here was my girlfriend, walking in the door, having seen our van still in the driveway, wondering what in the world we were still here for.

And when she saw what we were doing and why we were still there, she could have done a million different things. She could have been excited that we were still there and suggested that we go to lunch one more time before we left for good. She could have suggested that we go back to her house, forget this stupid tape, and spend time together before we took off. She could have told me how crazy I am, and pulled me up and tried to shake some sense into me - this TAPE DOESN'T MATTER. GO.

But no. She knew me, she knew how I was feeling, and she did what God had sent her to do.

Still in her nice clothes after spending the day in an intense class learning about how to teach dyslexic kids a certain type of way, she rolled up her sleeves, kicked off her shoes, got on her knees and started scraping away at this tape with me. Tears from both of our eyes coming down and laughing at how we were spending our last moments together, we scraped and scraped at that tile until all of that glue was gone.

I'm coming down there. 

So right now, in my pit, my husband has been rolling up his sleeves and climbing into the pit with me. He lets me come undone without judgment, without telling me all that I'm feeling is foolish or wrong. He hugs me, lets me cry so hard that my eyes hurt, admits he has no idea how to fix it, but will do everything he can to make it not so hard on me, and loves loves loves me. And that's really all I need right now. No advice. No one to try and turn me around and make me feel that what I'm feeling is wrong or something that I shouldn't be feeling. Just let me feel it and then we'll go from there.

I hope God puts me in a position so I can be this for someone else at some point. Because it's awesome when you've got it when you need it.


photo by Caetano Lacerda

Keeping Up With the Andersons

This is my blog, and I can do with it what I please. It is all within my decision to write about weird things, things that go through my mind that make sense only to me, emotional journeys, mental breakdowns, issues I am struggling with, etc. This is all fine because it is my blog and these are my experiences.

However, when it comes to my experiences that happen to intertwine with someone else's journey, I am more hesitant to pour it out here. That is not my call to make. Yes, I talk about my children here, but less so as they get older and more and more in a broad sense. This is to protect them and not sell them out. But I also have relationships with other people that mean very much to me that also take me down paths that I'd love to talk about here, but do not feel I have the right to. So that being said - if you find me talking vaguely about something or something seems as if it has a story behind it, well, it probably does. And this is why you may not hear it.

Now let's carry on, shall we?

I want to talk about something very briefly that disturbed me yesterday as I laid in bed trying to make my body heal my open wounds.

Okay - let me preface this by saying that odd things happen when I am told to rest and do nothing. I watch reality TV. Stupid daytime reality TV. I have no idea why this only appeals to me when I'm sick or on pain meds or otherwise told to sit and do nothing. During my normal life, I don't really watch tv except what I have DVR'd - and even those stack up like crazy (I have 21 episodes of Lost to be watched right now).

I don't watch American Idol. I don't watch anything about any bachelors or survivors or racers. (Okay slap me now ...) I don't even watch anything about home makeovers, extreme or otherwise. We do watch Deadliest Catch, and have since the first episode, and have oddly deep knowledge now of king and opilio crab fishing - like what it means to place a "string of pots" and and how many crabs in a pot is a good number, etc. Oh dear.

So when I'm grounded, apparently my brain cell count decreases exponentially with my energy level; because I sit and watch episode after episode of Keeping up with the Kardashians. But it must be something in my DNA, because my sister does the same thing. HA! See what I did there? I just got through saying I wouldn't talk about my relationships with other people, and then I went and threw my sister under the bus!

So now along with the 8.5 trillion other things my sister and I have to talk about every time we ring each other up, we talk about when Scott got so drunk that he ruined Kim's birthday dinner, and when Bruce and Khloe and Kourtney took Kris's dress hostage and got Bruce's dignity back, or when Rob was given Viagra accidentally by Kris (it was meant for Bruce). Ahhh - now that's quality reality television right there, y'all.

So upon watching the Kardashians yesterday, I inadvertently stumbled upon another, equally time-wasting reality series called, Pretty Wild about a former model who is raising her three daughters in Hollywood. The disturbing part is this. During the show, she says that she homeschools all three girls (who range in age, I think, from 15 to 17), and has based her entire curriculum on the movie, The Secret.

I am not even kidding you, chills ran down my spine and I instantly felt completely lucid and out of my pain meds. That is about 48 different ways of disturbing, people. They are taking this crap and basing their lives on it.


I was so immediately grateful that I am raising my family based on the word of God, and insanely grateful that my mother raised me that way. Because, and you've all heard it before, if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything. And my mother wanted us to stand for the truth, and that is what Sean and I want for our boys.

It was a sobering moment. Thank you God, for my grandmother and my mother, who are responsible for raising me with my beliefs, and who are now responsible for us raising our boys with their love of God.

Now, if God could only help me not watch the Kardashians today, I'll be one step closer to sane.

I Think I'm Lazy. Until I'm Made To Be.

So it turns out that it's not in the best interest of anyone in the family that I have open wounds that are being stubborn in healing. I'm dragging them all with me.

It's been 5.5 weeks since my surgery and things were going along great until I began experiencing wound separation at some of the incision areas, which has turned into a gigantic mess. Well, comparatively, anyhow. Comparatively in that - anywhere there is open flesh on my body constitutes a mess of any proportion. And when there are several places, and it means my body needs to expend energy doing nothing but trying to heal, well this constitutes as gigantic.

This encompasses my house, my body, my hair, my mental and emotional state, and what I am allowed to do with my time. All a mess.

gigantic: physically or metaphorically of great magnitude
mess: dirty, untidy, disordered condition; a state of embarrassing confusion

So yes, a metaphorically as well as physically dirty, untidy, disordered state of embarrassing confusion. Well said, Dictionary.com, for putting into perfect prose what my existence has boiled down to until I heal. Bravo!

It must have become obvious by now that I'm not taking this so well today. I have eaten Thin Mints and Doritos. I have watched episodes of Curb Your Enthusiasm from the first season. I have Stumbled the internet finding interesting and downright weird sites. I have researched tropical vacation destinations that I will mostly likely never set foot upon. I have used a Crest Whitestrip. Now do you see how desperate this has become?

And what will I do tomorrow?

I am dreaming of miraculous healing, of sons who long to clean for their mother, of the day Starbucks offers delivery.

HELP! I'm Grounded and I Can't Get Up!

My house is a mess. And not that cute new catchphrase - beautiful mess - that everyone is using. No. Just your plain, old, run-of-the-mill mess. Well, run-of-the-mill if you happen to have three boys who view nothing as trash, two dogs who insist on acting like dogs, and one husband who tries his best to keep up when mama's been grounded from most physical activity.

I have a new Dyson vacuum. New. I need to show it around. I need to make it feel welcome. I need to introduce it to all the nooks and crannies in our home that collect all kinds of sinister things. I neeeeeed to.

I need to do laundry, which I cannot carry downstairs to the laundry room. I need to, I need to, I need to ...

I need to dust. HA! That I can do!

You get the picture. I am trying incredibly hard to steer my body into healing several wound separations from my breast reduction surgery a month ago. (Go Google it.) And my surgeon grounded me.

So I have two different, lovely friends coming over today at different times; and they will both want to do things for me. And I will not let them, because I have an unbelievably hard time doing that. It makes me feel awful. And I hate even more when I have to ask for help. I absolutely love, love, love doing things for others; but when it comes to needing help myself, I'm a bit stubborn unless backed into a corner.

So when a time comes when I am less than up-to-par, I tend to just disappear - try to fade away - until I'm me again.

So now I must go fade for awhile; and ignore, as best I can until the shakes begin, the monumental mess I am having to try and "rest" in the middle of.

This will be fun.

I'll Take Mental Stir-Fry for $1,000, Please, Alex.

Well hello, blogosphere! Where have you been? Oh. You've been here all along? Hmm.

It has been four weeks and one day since my surgery, and HOLY CREAMSICLES, if I haven't had a few problems. Shocking, I know, for someone in this family to experience complications. With life.

First of all, part of the incisions in my left breast have separated (wound separation), which is wreaking havoc on my sense of CLOSURE where this surgery is concerned. Okay, bad pun. So I'm nursing one side to get it to heal. This is all a very short and sweet version of what Mrs. Zipps, my BFF, would certainly title, "The Weeks That I Have Had To Yell At Holly About Having Patience Regarding Surgery Recovery; Volumes 1-42."

Second of all, the medication I was given for the nerve damage in my arm from the surgery turned me into about 14 versions of crazy. Two and a half weeks of it from start to finish, which was two days ago. So just yesterday and really more today am I starting to realize that it was, in fact, the med that was making me want to hang glide into the side of a mountain and not some twisted new reality I'd stepped backwards into.

Seriously, I fled my family to stay at a hotel because my life was closing in on me. I ate seven orange scones from Panera Bread in that hotel room. In one evening. That alone should tell you how desperate I was feeling.

Now granted, I do have an overwhelming existence at times with the issues my boys have going on. With one with autism, one with a mood disorder and one with severe ADD, I am more a circus ringmaster at times than a mom; but this was frightening - even for my life. 

Turns out, the med I was on was capable of producing "unusual/sudden changes in mood, thoughts, or behavior including signs of depression, suicidal thoughts/attempts, and thoughts about harming yourself." Really, I just wanted to harm everyone else, but I digress.

So the last few weeks have been a complete blast. Not to mention the fact that I am in the middle of being offered an extremely unique opportunity career/life-wise. So throwing a life-changing decision into the mix has just pushed it all right off the charts.

I believe my mind and mental state are returning to normal (normal for me), though you would have to confirm that with my husband and the Zipps, whom I spend the majority of my waking time with. So here's to making rational life decisions, quick and efficient wound healing, and the love and happiness of all mankind.

Just thought I'd throw that last one in for good measure.