When I hear the word "tremors," I think of that really bad Kevin Bacon Movie that had those strange reptile-like creatures that attack a town. I guess that was all the attention I gave to the word, until the past few years.
Back in 2009, when I had Carly, some strange things started happening. I had always noticed my hand had a sort of tremor to it--people always commented on how I didn't need to be nervous, and I was always confused because I had no idea what they were talking about. By 2009, apparently they were noticed enough to be called something. I had some issues with tremors and with weakness, and was given the dx of essential tremor. I had never heard of the term, and when I googled it, I only really got a clear picture once I saw that Katharine Hepburn had it, and that wasn't a great picture. Essential tremor is often familial, and I had a feeling it was a fairly accurate diagnosis once I noted to the doctor that both my mother and grandmother (her mom) have the same tremor that has gotten pretty bad. Awesome...
Flash forward a few years. I dealt with a pretty significant injury, recovery from injury and illness, and returned to work and got a divorce. Life had seemed to smooth out, but it wasn't without notice of the tremor. During the time of my injury and illness, some of the symptoms were not as noticeable because I was on so many medications (and probably I was so drugged I didn't take note of the symptoms!). It was really in the past three years that everything really got worse.
I remember having students constantly commenting about my hands that shook when I tried to teach and write on the board, and how much work it took for me to write neatly and hide these issues. I remember going in to meetings and knowing my hand was going to shake violently, so I would position it under my notepad or between my legs. I remember all of these things because I had to pay attention to my symptoms just to get by. I didn't want to deal with ANOTHER setback, so I just ignored it and coped the best I could.
It was during the past couple of months that I really began to notice it again. I had low calcium levels after my thyroidectomy, so they had been blaming my floppy and shaky hands on those levels. The truth is, my hands are pretty consistent no matter what the levels are doing at the moment, we just gave the calcium all the credit for causing such grief. We looked at medication side effects and any other reason that this might be happening. Never mind I had already been told what it was a few years ago. Maybe I just wanted someone to explain it away; to give it a reason that could be solved by a simple exercise or a pill. Not that I wanted an easy answer, but I didn't want to get a diagnosis in which there wasn't much at all that could be done.
I have had the tremors and spasms for quite some time, and also some issues with my balance. I have to wonder if that's the whole reason I broke my leg and tore my ACL in the first place- my balance has been TERRIBLE. After having a nerve block for my surgery, it seemed to awaken the spasms and tremors in my left leg, which has made dealing with recovery absolutely terrible. I told the orthopedic surgeon about my issue, and was assured that it happened to many people as their nerves learn how to wake up again. That didn't explain the years of issues in my hands, and the domino effect of spasms through my body.
I went to therapy last week, and have been progressing pretty well. I was given a fairly simple exercise in which I had to use my balance on one leg to bend over and touch a ball to the top of a cone. It wasn't a very complicated task, but I couldn't do it. I became so frustrated, that I spent about 20 minutes trying the task before I FINALLY made it to ten successful attempts (and that was the therapist calling number 10 "successful" because he was tired of waiting). I guess until that moment, when I was almost in tears because my brain wouldn't let my body complete a task: THAT was when it all hit me. My body doesn't do what I tell it, and it terrifies me. There are tears streaming down my cheeks as I type this paragraph.
The first thing I think of is writing, oddly enough. I have had a little bit of a hard time with typing already, and have just had to do it in small doses. But handwriting has been another issue. Since I've been out of work, I haven't had to write nearly as many notes or paperwork that I normally do, so I didn't really realize the issues until I was trying to fill out a form at a dr's office. NOT pretty. I also noticed that I used to write in journals OFTEN before bed, to get my thoughts out before sleep. There's dust on the journal, because the last time I tried to sit and write my thoughts, it took too much effort to make the words look right. That's something I really like doing, and I stopped doing it.
I don't want to sit here and complain about my life. Really, I'm not. I read a book by a woman with ALS, and she typed the entire book using the Notes program on her iPhone. She used one finger to type an ENTIRE book, and I seem like I am complaining about not being able to journal about my day's events. It's not that--I guess I am coping with the realization that something's off, and my life's not going back to normal. If essential tremor is the only diagnosis at work here, it's progressive. There's things that can help, but it doesn't mysteriously disappear. It often gets much worse.
Just looking at how I feel today, and what I have attempted to do in a fairly stress-free setting, I am seriously concerned about returning to work and back to the pace I maintain there. I am supposed to be visiting a new neurologist in the next couple of weeks, and I hope she will give me some advice on how I can maintain my independence. The major tasks haven't become a chore, but some of the fine motor things have gotten hard. Sitting and punching out paper dolls for Carly isn't really something that HAS to be done, but it is something I want to be able to do, and it's something that I don't think should take an hour to do. I want to be able to open doors and jars, and unbutton my own pants. I like the fact that I can go to the store, get the items I need, and bring them hope and put them away. I don't want to give up my independence, and I guess these changes have made me realize how important that independence is to me.
The intention of this post, I guess, is to give you a glimpse into my world. As awesome of a life that I have, with cute kids and a great supportive family, it can suck at times. There are days when I am exhausted because my muscles spent the night before hopping about, leaving me feeling like I've run a marathon. There's so much I want to do with my kids and for my kids, and it hurts me when my intentions can't meet my actions. And yes, even though life is grand right now, I am scared about the future. I am already sad that my children have had to endure a divorce, an absent father, and a mother with cancer. I really don't think they need to carry any more for a while. I think they'd like a period where everything is calm, and mommy feels good. I push through and participate in activities, and hope that my body will recover in the night. It just seems like my days of making up for things are running out, and I am now paying the price for overdoing it.
I do have hope though, and that can be a very powerful thing. I know that I am a smart and resourceful person, and I'll use my abilities and resources to get me where I need to be. I have an incredibly supportive family that tries really hard to make sure that we are taken care of, and I have friends that offer support in many different forms. I know that there are worse things that can happen in life, but honestly I also know there are better things too. I guess I just have to maintain that hope in my future, and the faith that everything will work out alright. I already have two of the coolest children that I've ever been blessed to know, so I guess I'm ahead of the game. :-)
Showing posts with label divorce. Show all posts
Showing posts with label divorce. Show all posts
Monday, January 27, 2014
Saturday, March 23, 2013
An Evening with Jere
This past Thursday, I had the pleasure of joining a good friend for an evening of dinner and schmoozing at a fancy benefit dinner. The event was the CABIA Annual Benefit dinner, and that is the Chattanooga Area Brain Injury Association. Suffice it to say that everyone in that room (all 150+) were in some way touched by brain injury. If you'd like a slap in the face of the reality around you, attending a dinner such as this would be a great way to do so.
Jere sent me a message Tuesday, asking me to attend the dinner with him. He was worried it was too short notice, though I remembered that I was supposed to have the event on my calendar in the first place. I arranged a babysitter, and told him I'd be there. I remember sending a message back to him asking what the attire would be. His response: "wear pearls and comfortable shoes." It seems I never get a typical response from Jere.
I realized I hadn't worn a dress in ages. I guess the last time I wore one was graduation night, and that was only briefly enough to get to the event and back home. I am not a dress person, but it seemed that the evening would be a reason to delve into something new. Tuesday evening, after class, I hit the clothing stores looking for a dress.
The other task was interesting: I did ask my boyfriend if it was ok that I attended a swanky dinner with another man. This seemed to be a strange question, because it was an all-around weird situation. Jere was "another man," but it was definitely different with him. He was a good friend, a kindred spirit, and it was a different type of relationship from the normal "other men" that are out there. Travis said he could have me for twenty bucks... I am thankful I am dating an understanding man. :-)
On Thursday, I finished work and took off down the interstate. I remember curling my hair and changing clothes between classes! I knew that even if I left at 3pm, I would barely make it to the dinner in time. I pulled up to the location, The Mill in Chattanooga, and saw Jere wandering around the parking lot.
Jere looked whimsically dapper. He was cleaned up, with a dress shirt, tie, and coat. I was entertained with how the colors did not match, but complemented each other so well. It gave him the look of an absent-minded professor, but made him absolutely charming at the same time. He gave me the once over, and told me I looked splendid. We went inside to check in and find our table.
Through the evening, we talked with many people who have themselves dealt with brain injury. The whole experience made me realize how little I talk about the subject. I guess even though I have wanted to interview people and write about it, the whole experience to me is just something I need to suck up and deal with. I guess I feel like rehashing all of my feelings over and over again will just waste time. I do know better of this now, and realize there is a tremendous amount of support around me, if I am willing to ask. I met a woman that has almost no short-term memory, and always meets someone new (even when she has met you twenty times before). I met a few people that shared physical disabilities along with their brain injuries. We sat with a couple that actually met, dated and married AFTER the brain injury had occurred (which gave me hope). All in all, it was an absolutely wonderful evening.
The speaker was a lawyer from Atlanta that had suffered a brain injury in 2004, after a car accident. He talked about reach out to those around you, and to spreading knowledge of brain injury. Everyone knows what concussions are, but very few people understand the effects of brain injury, and that the recovery is life-long. There are so many people that are so very lucky to be alive, but that doesn't mean they aren't still pushing and clawing their way through life. Recovery is never meant to be easy, and a life-long recovery can be grueling.
After hearing him speak, we said our goodbyes to those around us. Jere and I made small talk all the way to the parking lot, where he asked me if I would be able to drive home. I told him I should be ok, as I let out a yawn. He told me I needed coffee, and that we would grab a quick cup of coffee before I hit the road. I got in my car to follow him, and we drove through the streets of Chattanooga, in search of liquid energy.
Following Jere through the streets of Chattanooga is like following him in any conversation. He is incredibly intelligent and quick-witted, but he also makes connections and turns that most people don't see. Trying to keep up with him leaves me mentally exhausted. I was relieved when we pulled into the parking spots at the Bluff Art District. We would be visiting Rembrandt's, the coffee shop where we first met and talked.
I did a quick mental calculation, and realized it was just about one year ago that we made our first trek to the coffee shop. I didn't say a word, because I knew that this tidbit was probably irrelevant. We got out of the cars and walked to the shop. I am always entertained by the glances and fake smiles we receive when walking about town together--it must look strange to see a white-haired sixty-one year-old with a young, thirty year-old brunette. I chuckled to myself, because those people didn't realize that this wasn't some strange relationship they read about in the tabloids. This was the meeting of good friends, ready to connect and share their life experiences over coffee.
Inside, I ordered a cup of coffee and a dessert, and he did the same. We sat down at the table and began to chat while our order was being prepared. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was ready to get down to the real conversation. It's hard to be ourselves in front of all of those people. As much as we make sense to each other, I believe our conversation would seem odd in front of an audience.
He asked me about my experience in court earlier that day. I told him about the drudgery of dealing with child support court, and he commented that he expected sparks to fly and fire to come from my eyes when I spoke of my ex-husband. I told him that honestly, he wasn't worth that much energy anymore. There are bigger and better things ahead of me, and those thoughts would only hold me back.
We moved on to talk about brain injury. I couldn't tell if my thoughts were coherent at that point, but he seemed to understand. He always seems to understand what I am saying, even when I am not quite sure I am saying real words. I tell him how frustrating it is to deal with the recovery, how I have great days where I feel like I am the "old me," and then many other days where I can't even remember who the "old me" was. My frustrations are with my processing speed, my memory, and my indifference to the people around me on any given day. I know that all of these are valid complaints for someone with a traumatic brain injury, but I still don't like it. I know the biggest part of me that hasn't recovered is my spirit, because I am still grieving the person I thought I was before the accident.
I say that because sometimes I become confused. Sometimes I wonder if I am remembering who I once was, or if I am having thoughts of who I always wanted to be. And since everyone around me seems to want to cut me a lot of slack, I have to depend on myself to remember what life was like before. And Jere, bless his heart, worries I don't get enough sleep and give my body enough time to heal. I know he's right, but I still feel like I am making up for lost time. Every day, I wake up and go to bed feeling that way. Sometimes I take it in stride, and sometimes it terrifies me.
Toward the end of our conversation, we talk about writing together again. The whole reason we ever came together was because I was writing, and he was someone I needed to interview. This evolved into him helping me write, then a joint effort. Through the year we have both gone through peaks and valleys, and our writing effort has suffered. This evening was a time that we could make plans to write, and to make a commitment to finally doing something about it.
Eventually, the coffee and dessert were gone, and I realized I had an almost-two hour drive home. We walked out of the shop, and down the street. He told me about how his house was going on the market, and he would be moving to North Carolina. I could feel my heart stop, because I wasn't liking the idea of him moving so far away. It's not like we see each other even weekly, but I like knowing he's only a few hours away anytime I've needed to chat.
We walked to our cars, parked on top of the bridge, and turned to say our goodbyes. He grabbed me and pulled me close to hug me, and I felt the stress of the day fade away. He told me how much he leaned on me, and I almost cried when I thought about how much I have leaned on him over the past year. I honestly owed much of my success in this past year to how grounded he has made me feel. Having someone who has been to hell and back, for just about the same reason, can make the world of difference. Being able to say whatever I want, whenever I want, and knowing he has felt the same way makes a big difference in dealing with issues. And knowing that whenever I try to convince myself of something, he will be there to call me out on my BS and push me to find the truth. THAT is the mark of a special relationship. Whatever happens from here on out, I know that this has been a truly magical time for me.
I also had a brief moment where I wondered if the people driving below had looked up to see us. I wondered what they saw while driving--a man with silvery hair, holding a young woman for dear life, on top of a moonlit bridge. I wondered if anyone questioned the peculiarity of our pairing. I know I've questioned it often, but have always remained grateful for divine intervention.
And Lisa Morgan. You see, Lisa Morgan is the woman that introduced us a year ago in Siskin Rehabilitation Hospital. I can remember it like it was yesterday... Jere walked through the door, and Lisa told us we could go sit in the cafeteria and talk. His response: "cafeteria food sucks!" He then looked at me, a stranger, and said "Let's go somewhere else and eat. I'm driving."
I looked at him, and gave an immediate response of "sure!" I hadn't thought through the fact that I didn't know the extent of his brain injury. I only knew that this would be someone interesting, and I was determined to find some adventure. I remember Lisa's final words as we walked out the door together:
"Don't let me see you two on the news!!!"
Jere sent me a message Tuesday, asking me to attend the dinner with him. He was worried it was too short notice, though I remembered that I was supposed to have the event on my calendar in the first place. I arranged a babysitter, and told him I'd be there. I remember sending a message back to him asking what the attire would be. His response: "wear pearls and comfortable shoes." It seems I never get a typical response from Jere.
I realized I hadn't worn a dress in ages. I guess the last time I wore one was graduation night, and that was only briefly enough to get to the event and back home. I am not a dress person, but it seemed that the evening would be a reason to delve into something new. Tuesday evening, after class, I hit the clothing stores looking for a dress.
The other task was interesting: I did ask my boyfriend if it was ok that I attended a swanky dinner with another man. This seemed to be a strange question, because it was an all-around weird situation. Jere was "another man," but it was definitely different with him. He was a good friend, a kindred spirit, and it was a different type of relationship from the normal "other men" that are out there. Travis said he could have me for twenty bucks... I am thankful I am dating an understanding man. :-)
On Thursday, I finished work and took off down the interstate. I remember curling my hair and changing clothes between classes! I knew that even if I left at 3pm, I would barely make it to the dinner in time. I pulled up to the location, The Mill in Chattanooga, and saw Jere wandering around the parking lot.
Jere looked whimsically dapper. He was cleaned up, with a dress shirt, tie, and coat. I was entertained with how the colors did not match, but complemented each other so well. It gave him the look of an absent-minded professor, but made him absolutely charming at the same time. He gave me the once over, and told me I looked splendid. We went inside to check in and find our table.
Through the evening, we talked with many people who have themselves dealt with brain injury. The whole experience made me realize how little I talk about the subject. I guess even though I have wanted to interview people and write about it, the whole experience to me is just something I need to suck up and deal with. I guess I feel like rehashing all of my feelings over and over again will just waste time. I do know better of this now, and realize there is a tremendous amount of support around me, if I am willing to ask. I met a woman that has almost no short-term memory, and always meets someone new (even when she has met you twenty times before). I met a few people that shared physical disabilities along with their brain injuries. We sat with a couple that actually met, dated and married AFTER the brain injury had occurred (which gave me hope). All in all, it was an absolutely wonderful evening.
The speaker was a lawyer from Atlanta that had suffered a brain injury in 2004, after a car accident. He talked about reach out to those around you, and to spreading knowledge of brain injury. Everyone knows what concussions are, but very few people understand the effects of brain injury, and that the recovery is life-long. There are so many people that are so very lucky to be alive, but that doesn't mean they aren't still pushing and clawing their way through life. Recovery is never meant to be easy, and a life-long recovery can be grueling.
After hearing him speak, we said our goodbyes to those around us. Jere and I made small talk all the way to the parking lot, where he asked me if I would be able to drive home. I told him I should be ok, as I let out a yawn. He told me I needed coffee, and that we would grab a quick cup of coffee before I hit the road. I got in my car to follow him, and we drove through the streets of Chattanooga, in search of liquid energy.
Following Jere through the streets of Chattanooga is like following him in any conversation. He is incredibly intelligent and quick-witted, but he also makes connections and turns that most people don't see. Trying to keep up with him leaves me mentally exhausted. I was relieved when we pulled into the parking spots at the Bluff Art District. We would be visiting Rembrandt's, the coffee shop where we first met and talked.
I did a quick mental calculation, and realized it was just about one year ago that we made our first trek to the coffee shop. I didn't say a word, because I knew that this tidbit was probably irrelevant. We got out of the cars and walked to the shop. I am always entertained by the glances and fake smiles we receive when walking about town together--it must look strange to see a white-haired sixty-one year-old with a young, thirty year-old brunette. I chuckled to myself, because those people didn't realize that this wasn't some strange relationship they read about in the tabloids. This was the meeting of good friends, ready to connect and share their life experiences over coffee.
Inside, I ordered a cup of coffee and a dessert, and he did the same. We sat down at the table and began to chat while our order was being prepared. I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was ready to get down to the real conversation. It's hard to be ourselves in front of all of those people. As much as we make sense to each other, I believe our conversation would seem odd in front of an audience.
He asked me about my experience in court earlier that day. I told him about the drudgery of dealing with child support court, and he commented that he expected sparks to fly and fire to come from my eyes when I spoke of my ex-husband. I told him that honestly, he wasn't worth that much energy anymore. There are bigger and better things ahead of me, and those thoughts would only hold me back.
We moved on to talk about brain injury. I couldn't tell if my thoughts were coherent at that point, but he seemed to understand. He always seems to understand what I am saying, even when I am not quite sure I am saying real words. I tell him how frustrating it is to deal with the recovery, how I have great days where I feel like I am the "old me," and then many other days where I can't even remember who the "old me" was. My frustrations are with my processing speed, my memory, and my indifference to the people around me on any given day. I know that all of these are valid complaints for someone with a traumatic brain injury, but I still don't like it. I know the biggest part of me that hasn't recovered is my spirit, because I am still grieving the person I thought I was before the accident.
I say that because sometimes I become confused. Sometimes I wonder if I am remembering who I once was, or if I am having thoughts of who I always wanted to be. And since everyone around me seems to want to cut me a lot of slack, I have to depend on myself to remember what life was like before. And Jere, bless his heart, worries I don't get enough sleep and give my body enough time to heal. I know he's right, but I still feel like I am making up for lost time. Every day, I wake up and go to bed feeling that way. Sometimes I take it in stride, and sometimes it terrifies me.
Toward the end of our conversation, we talk about writing together again. The whole reason we ever came together was because I was writing, and he was someone I needed to interview. This evolved into him helping me write, then a joint effort. Through the year we have both gone through peaks and valleys, and our writing effort has suffered. This evening was a time that we could make plans to write, and to make a commitment to finally doing something about it.
Eventually, the coffee and dessert were gone, and I realized I had an almost-two hour drive home. We walked out of the shop, and down the street. He told me about how his house was going on the market, and he would be moving to North Carolina. I could feel my heart stop, because I wasn't liking the idea of him moving so far away. It's not like we see each other even weekly, but I like knowing he's only a few hours away anytime I've needed to chat.
We walked to our cars, parked on top of the bridge, and turned to say our goodbyes. He grabbed me and pulled me close to hug me, and I felt the stress of the day fade away. He told me how much he leaned on me, and I almost cried when I thought about how much I have leaned on him over the past year. I honestly owed much of my success in this past year to how grounded he has made me feel. Having someone who has been to hell and back, for just about the same reason, can make the world of difference. Being able to say whatever I want, whenever I want, and knowing he has felt the same way makes a big difference in dealing with issues. And knowing that whenever I try to convince myself of something, he will be there to call me out on my BS and push me to find the truth. THAT is the mark of a special relationship. Whatever happens from here on out, I know that this has been a truly magical time for me.
I also had a brief moment where I wondered if the people driving below had looked up to see us. I wondered what they saw while driving--a man with silvery hair, holding a young woman for dear life, on top of a moonlit bridge. I wondered if anyone questioned the peculiarity of our pairing. I know I've questioned it often, but have always remained grateful for divine intervention.
And Lisa Morgan. You see, Lisa Morgan is the woman that introduced us a year ago in Siskin Rehabilitation Hospital. I can remember it like it was yesterday... Jere walked through the door, and Lisa told us we could go sit in the cafeteria and talk. His response: "cafeteria food sucks!" He then looked at me, a stranger, and said "Let's go somewhere else and eat. I'm driving."
I looked at him, and gave an immediate response of "sure!" I hadn't thought through the fact that I didn't know the extent of his brain injury. I only knew that this would be someone interesting, and I was determined to find some adventure. I remember Lisa's final words as we walked out the door together:
"Don't let me see you two on the news!!!"
Sunday, March 17, 2013
Spring is in the air...
There's nothing like the change from cold, blustery days to warm and breezy. This winter, it seemed like the cold, nasty weather dragged on forever, and it started to nag on my mood. I was waiting for the days when I could get out and move. It seemed that cabin fever got the better of me.
Then, it seemed like a switch was flipped and everything was gorgeous outside. Flowers were blooming, warm temperatures lured me outdoors, and it seemed everything was at peace. I even caught my children outside, lying on their backs in the yard and looking at the clouds.
This made me think back to a year ago, when everything really started to heal. It was an almost immediate event, achieving calm in our house. Shortly after our move to Tullahoma, the children became more calm and well-adjusted. Their anxieties lessened, and mine did as well. Over the course of a few months, I ran myself ragged trying to make "normal" happen for them. It took until last March for me to feel GOOD. I guess when you endure crap for years, it is going to take more than a month or two to feel normal.
Today, while I was sitting in the garden and digging in the ground, I thought about how different my life is now. I am independent, confident in taking the children out and doing whatever I need to do, and I don't constantly worry about things. It seems my life is in order, but I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that I AM IN CONTROL. No matter what measures I took to be responsible and thoughtful, if the other part of the equation is stealing money and disappearing, we will never move ahead. Even with the little a teacher makes, it seems my life is running so much smoother.
And socially it seems I am coming out on top. I have some good friendships, though I wish I had time to see them more often. I am getting out and trying new things, which was a major part of the project last year. I am dating an absolutely wonderful guy, and am quite happy even in our basic encounters.
A word about him...
Last night, we were meeting to go to dinner and the drive-in theater. Earlier in the day, he confirmed that I did like pineapple (my favorite fruit), and said nothing more. When I arrived at the parking lot to meet him, he came out of his car with a white dishpan. The inside was filled with white towels, and he told me he needed to put something in my car's trunk. We were taking his car, but he wanted to make sure I got this gift. I wasn't allowed to see it until later, so he tucked it in the trunk and shut the lid.
We had a fantastic dinner, and the movies were absolutely terrible. We had a lot of fun talking before the movie, and laughing at the absurdity of the movies. When we returned to the cars, he leaped out of his vehicle and opened my trunk. He took out a pie he had made, and placed it back in the trunk. I looked at him with a puzzled expression, and asked if he made that for me. He told me he did, and went on to say that he wished he had bought enough ingredients to make him a pie as well. At that point I was very surprised, because this meant he sought out to make me something that was for only me. It wasn't a coincidence that he was making several, or that someone handed him a pie he didn't want.
Now, I might sound absolutely ridiculous about going on about a pie. I guess without divulging much personal information, I should say that this is the most timid and teenage dating experience I have ever had. It has gone extremely slow, I have always been thought of for who I am and what I stand for, and myself and my children have come ahead of what he wants. He has always been ultra-polite, thought about the fact that I was someone's daughter, and always wanted to develop a relationship and make something meaningful, instead of making another notch in the bedpost.
And this was terribly new to me, because it always seemed other people had agendas. Either that, or they had so many issues that they wanted to put aside my thoughts and feelings to care for them. It was just a pie, but it was absolutely refreshing to receive something that someone took time to plan for, assembled, and took great in transporting in the hopes I would enjoy it. In the world of Love Languages, I am definitely an Acts of Service or Quality Time person. I am not much for flashy gifts and such, but if someone does something for me, or takes the time to do something I enjoy just because, then that means the world to me.
And last night, that simple gesture meant the world to me.
I am not really good at projecting what will happen in the future. For some reason, there are experiences that seemed smooth-sailing that later turned out to end quickly. There were years that definitely did not end the way I planned. But I have to believe that when something builds on a foundation of getting to know someone, and values building a bond and a relationship over physical feelings, then something big starts to happen. I start getting pies that are made specifically for me, and I start thinking while gardening of something new and exciting I might want to show him. Maybe a silly monument I saw once, or an adventure I always wanted to take. The point is, I feel the most important part of a relationship is when you start to put someone into your everyday life. The pie was just a symbol, but it was an absolutely delicious one!
In a few days, it will officially be Spring. The day after that, I go to court to deal with child support issues with my ex-husband. I will say that my sporadic dealings in the area of child support issues and ex-strangeness have made me appreciate the gestures such as the pie. Not just that gesture, but really that Travis is a good, ethical, faithful person. He is interested in only doing what is right, and has an incredible work ethic. When I was 20 and I wanted to live an exciting life, we probably wouldn't have matched up with me very well. Now that I am wiser in the ways of the world, and have learned through experience what really matters, I can see that someone with stability in all areas of life can make me feel the most secure. And that is a GOOD feeling. :-)
Then, it seemed like a switch was flipped and everything was gorgeous outside. Flowers were blooming, warm temperatures lured me outdoors, and it seemed everything was at peace. I even caught my children outside, lying on their backs in the yard and looking at the clouds.
This made me think back to a year ago, when everything really started to heal. It was an almost immediate event, achieving calm in our house. Shortly after our move to Tullahoma, the children became more calm and well-adjusted. Their anxieties lessened, and mine did as well. Over the course of a few months, I ran myself ragged trying to make "normal" happen for them. It took until last March for me to feel GOOD. I guess when you endure crap for years, it is going to take more than a month or two to feel normal.
Today, while I was sitting in the garden and digging in the ground, I thought about how different my life is now. I am independent, confident in taking the children out and doing whatever I need to do, and I don't constantly worry about things. It seems my life is in order, but I think a lot of that has to do with the fact that I AM IN CONTROL. No matter what measures I took to be responsible and thoughtful, if the other part of the equation is stealing money and disappearing, we will never move ahead. Even with the little a teacher makes, it seems my life is running so much smoother.
And socially it seems I am coming out on top. I have some good friendships, though I wish I had time to see them more often. I am getting out and trying new things, which was a major part of the project last year. I am dating an absolutely wonderful guy, and am quite happy even in our basic encounters.
A word about him...
Last night, we were meeting to go to dinner and the drive-in theater. Earlier in the day, he confirmed that I did like pineapple (my favorite fruit), and said nothing more. When I arrived at the parking lot to meet him, he came out of his car with a white dishpan. The inside was filled with white towels, and he told me he needed to put something in my car's trunk. We were taking his car, but he wanted to make sure I got this gift. I wasn't allowed to see it until later, so he tucked it in the trunk and shut the lid.
We had a fantastic dinner, and the movies were absolutely terrible. We had a lot of fun talking before the movie, and laughing at the absurdity of the movies. When we returned to the cars, he leaped out of his vehicle and opened my trunk. He took out a pie he had made, and placed it back in the trunk. I looked at him with a puzzled expression, and asked if he made that for me. He told me he did, and went on to say that he wished he had bought enough ingredients to make him a pie as well. At that point I was very surprised, because this meant he sought out to make me something that was for only me. It wasn't a coincidence that he was making several, or that someone handed him a pie he didn't want.
Now, I might sound absolutely ridiculous about going on about a pie. I guess without divulging much personal information, I should say that this is the most timid and teenage dating experience I have ever had. It has gone extremely slow, I have always been thought of for who I am and what I stand for, and myself and my children have come ahead of what he wants. He has always been ultra-polite, thought about the fact that I was someone's daughter, and always wanted to develop a relationship and make something meaningful, instead of making another notch in the bedpost.
And this was terribly new to me, because it always seemed other people had agendas. Either that, or they had so many issues that they wanted to put aside my thoughts and feelings to care for them. It was just a pie, but it was absolutely refreshing to receive something that someone took time to plan for, assembled, and took great in transporting in the hopes I would enjoy it. In the world of Love Languages, I am definitely an Acts of Service or Quality Time person. I am not much for flashy gifts and such, but if someone does something for me, or takes the time to do something I enjoy just because, then that means the world to me.
And last night, that simple gesture meant the world to me.
I am not really good at projecting what will happen in the future. For some reason, there are experiences that seemed smooth-sailing that later turned out to end quickly. There were years that definitely did not end the way I planned. But I have to believe that when something builds on a foundation of getting to know someone, and values building a bond and a relationship over physical feelings, then something big starts to happen. I start getting pies that are made specifically for me, and I start thinking while gardening of something new and exciting I might want to show him. Maybe a silly monument I saw once, or an adventure I always wanted to take. The point is, I feel the most important part of a relationship is when you start to put someone into your everyday life. The pie was just a symbol, but it was an absolutely delicious one!
In a few days, it will officially be Spring. The day after that, I go to court to deal with child support issues with my ex-husband. I will say that my sporadic dealings in the area of child support issues and ex-strangeness have made me appreciate the gestures such as the pie. Not just that gesture, but really that Travis is a good, ethical, faithful person. He is interested in only doing what is right, and has an incredible work ethic. When I was 20 and I wanted to live an exciting life, we probably wouldn't have matched up with me very well. Now that I am wiser in the ways of the world, and have learned through experience what really matters, I can see that someone with stability in all areas of life can make me feel the most secure. And that is a GOOD feeling. :-)
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