tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-80596035284908260692024-03-08T09:48:13.441-08:00DebabblingsDebrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.comBlogger248125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-49793669510940975082017-01-04T18:09:00.000-08:002017-01-04T18:09:32.104-08:00I'm still aliveI find myself doing most of my writing these days in the form of online journal entries, thanks to jrnl.com. And, of course, I share what's going on with us on Facebook, too. But I figured that since I purposely chose not to send out a letter outlining our 2016 with our Christmas cards this year, I'd at least do a post here that likely few people will see that share some of what's been going on with us.<br />
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I'm going to be honest and blunt and say that 2016 was not kind to me overall. Sure, there were some good things, and sure, some things *seemed* good at the time, but when you spend roughly 5-6 months expecting a newborn baby to join your family through adoption only to learn that you have been used, lied to, mistreated, and discarded, it sucks. There's no way around that.<br />
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Looking back, I saw several red flags or warning signs that things weren't right, starting sometime around April. But I was trying to be optimistic and take the birth mom at her word, and so I shrugged them off until it was no longer possible for me to. I didn't want to be caught burying my head in the sand.<br />
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So, that was the big crapper of the year. It was kind of like I'd imagine having a miscarriage in the 3rd trimester would be, minus the physical side of things. I was emotionally wrecked.<br />
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And then I saw my family in September for a niece's wedding, less than a month after the baby's due date, and ONE person asked how we were doing. That happened to be the niece whose wedding it was. There was a lot of other crap that happened there. Let's just say I have made the executive decision to not allow myself to be treated like crap anymore by family members who choose to do so. NO MORE!<br />
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So that led to the other big crapper of the year, which was my father making clear his disappointment in me and the choices I have made and continue to make in my life. While I have no idea what he's referencing and he didn't specify, I decided, NO MORE! And then I had to show I meant it when all I wanted to do is move on with my life.<br />
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I mean, if you make it to your mid-30's and can't remember ever being told sorry by someone who says those kinds of things and acts in irrational, emotional, and hurtful ways, I think eventually you/re going to say enough is enough. Which I did.<br />
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When you have a negative interaction with someone, it takes 5 positive interactions to make up for that one negative interaction. FIVE! Oh, man, I'm nowhere near that with some family members. I think we're severely in the red, and when I'm the only one putting forth effort to try to get us to the black, eventually I'm going to say I've had enough. And so I did.<br />
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It's sad. It's heartbreaking. It's not that I don't care. But I have to set boundaries and allow healthy relationships into my life and those in my life to thrive, which I can't do if I'm so focused on the negative relationships instead. I have no problem having a relationship with anyone, as long as that person is willing to put forth the effort to make it into a healthy one. Heck, I forgive easily and wipe out those negative emotional bank accounts, trying to start again at zero after it appears you are declaring bankruptcy. But if you show me that you were just crying wolf so you could take out more money, I'm closing that crap down right away.<br />
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I tried to take the failed-adoption thing and put a positive spin on it. Maybe it happened to enable me to help out a friend in need. And so I let her and her husband and their 1-year-old move in with us in October. She told me she expected to be here 2 months. I never believed that would be as long as they were here, but I opened my home to them knowing it'd be longer. And then I learned that the depth of their issues is much deeper than what I was led to believe and their need lies beyond what I am capable of providing. I cannot help them, because they will not help themselves. Sometimes that mommy bird needs to give those baby birds a chance to fly. When this little family is kicked out of the nest to flap their wings and fly, I fear they will be unwilling to spread their wings and give it the try they need. Hopefully, they'll either prove me wrong or not suffer too terribly when they hit the ground and can learn to at least walk. But the potential to fly would still remain. Anyway, what I'm getting at is I'm so done! My good deed went from being helpful to bordering too closely on enabling, and so they have until March 1st to move out. I told them with more than 2 months' notice, which was their original plan (even though they had no real plan to achieve it), and I wish them well. But, as I told them early on in their stay, I don't think they've hit rock bottom yet.<br />
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However, now that all that negative crap is out there, let's talk about the good. In an effort to have what I lovingly called "beach therapy," I went to the beach twice this year. I went with Joy to Long Beach, WA and then went as a family to Lincoln City, OR. I love the beach and want to live there. I don't care if I look like a lobster!<br />
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Also, I got to go to the University of Washington to hear one of my heroes speak: Malala Yousafzai. Ah, I love her! I didn't even care about how long it took for her to come on stage or how hot the venue was or how I craved more from her, sure that she couldn't be done speaking when she wrapped it up. She is amazing! She is a fighter!<br />
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I like to set goals for myself fairly regularly, but I admit that they are often without plans, unless they are financial goals. This year, my goal is to become a foster parent or at least do everything on my end I need to in order to get to that point where we can receive a placement. This is part of why I don't feel too badly for having the family move out- we need the room for a foster child. We'd love to adopt through the foster care system, but even if that doesn't happen, at least we can help provide a roof and loving support to a child in need.<br />
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And my word for the year is RESILIENT. I've already decided it's going to be a good year. We have one short staycation already planned for Joy's birthday and are looking ahead to plans for our anniversary. Plus there are possible reunions to attend and/or other vacation destinations to consider and prepare for. Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-15282717665411933862016-07-15T10:51:00.001-07:002016-07-16T10:15:14.721-07:00The Loss of HopeWe thought we were being cautiously optimistic about the adoption happening, but that didn't mean we didn't have our hearts opened to the idea of welcoming you and your birth mother and birth father into our family. We wanted you more than you will ever know. We prayed for another child fervently for years before you were conceived, and we thought you and your biological parents were going to be our unexpected answer to those prayers.<br />
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But it didn't work out that way.<br />
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And now I grieve.<br />
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Most of the minutes and most of the hours of most of the days, I am fine. I am almost able to function at a decent level. But I have those awful minutes, hours, and days where unexpected grief overwhelms me. Often, that grief is accompanied by so many tears and such shallow breaths as I sob that I can only beg for distractions to tear me out of the all-consuming pain.<br />
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We learned about you almost immediately after your birth mother did. It was almost like finding out I was pregnant again, except without the worries of miscarriage, blood clots, hospital stays, morning sickness, and my possible death that I knew would be my frequent companions were you to be in my own womb. Only this time, I had no control. None. To pretend otherwise would have been foolish. And yet, I wanted to believe you would end up in my arms, so I allowed myself to believe.<br />
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As your due date drew nearer, I realized I needed to start preparing. While out with my daughter and her friend, I purchased the first onesie and first bib I bought specifically for you, designed and created by a local small business owner. I naively talked with these strangers at the booth about the adoption, allowing myself to get excited and caught up in the moment. Preparing for your arrival. Proving that I was worthy of you.<br />
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Then the facade started to crumble, and the bricks from that facade were used to build walls around my heart as I cried and began to worry in earnest, realizing that the doubts that had started creeping into my mind some time before were not unfounded red flags. Events confirmed the signs popping up indicated this was not likely meant to be.<br />
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But still, I had some hope left. Hope. The word hope, the idea of hope, and now the name Hope that had been picked for you by both your birth father and by me in what seemed to be kismet now seemed like a cruel joke. My hope was slipping away. Hope that your birth parents would do the right thing by you. Hope that placing you with me and my family were the right thing for you.<br />
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All preparations for your possible arrival ceased to protect our hearts from more damage, as though doing that would matter. We decided not to get the nursery ready. We figured that we could do that after you were in our home. We planned on picking bottles and formula and diapers and clothes on the way home from the hospital, when you were safe in our arms. I could not bear the burden of breaking down the walls around my heart again for fear my heart would be pummeled further and I wouldn't recover from the pain and loss of you, especially seeing the reminders of what could have been around us in our home. You were mine, but you were not. And yet, you had my heart.<br />
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However, I know now that the reminders are still there. Some visible, and some not. <br />
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This room, mostly unused these days, was going to be transformed into your nursery.<br />
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This flower lamp was going to hang on your wall, casting a soft glow in the room.<br />
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This was going to be your crib, followed by your toddler bed when you were big enough for one.<br />
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This is the chair where your new family members were going to take turns holding you and lovingly feeding, burping, and rocking you at all hours of the day and night.<br />
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This would have been a bib that was sure to get much use from you, and a onesie I was looking forward to you growing into.<br />
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My fractured heart is working on healing from the loss of you. I will never forget you, and I will never stop praying for your safety and well-being. I am trying so hard to hold on to my last shreds of hope, even as I let you go.<br />
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Today is one of those days that the grief has hit me like a freight train. Sunday was a hard day, and I cried with my head hung low while I played the piano in a room full of children, smiles, and laughter. No one saw the pain on my face or in my heart. No one comforted me. I even tried to call your birth mother. She didn't answer. I wasn't expecting her to, and I don't know what I would have said if she did.<br />
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Monday was a better day, full of family time at lunch and the movies and work. Better days, I have learned, don't mean you are over the worst of it. The rest of the week has been a struggle, with hours of grieving storming into my heart and mind unabashedly, making it difficult for me to concentrate on what I was doing or should have been doing, making it difficult for me to care.<br />
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How am I supposed to focus on work or anything else with a gaping, seeping, tearing hole in my heart? How long will I endure these unexpected and unwelcome acquaintances of mine, sorrow and pain? How is it that I am still in denial, as though some miracle will still bring you to me, when it is clear to everyone else that is not in the cards? How long will it be before I can truly move forward with my life?<br />
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I find myself thinking it will be better once you are born, but I know that I will still be so wrapped up in concern for your safety and well-being that you will continue to occupy my thoughts then, possibly more than you are now. I fear you are going to be used, as my family and I have been; mistreated, as we have been; harmed, as we have been; and broken, as we now are.<br />
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God knows you and loves you. I do too. I can't imagine loving you more than I do right now. And I suppose that is why this is so hard. <br />
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<span id="goog_572446511"></span><span id="goog_572446512"></span>Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-2267134446698377282016-01-27T15:34:00.001-08:002016-01-27T15:34:34.680-08:00Adoption, foster care, or pregnancy through reproductive assistance?The size of my family and my physical, emotional, and financial ability to impact that has been weighing on my mind, and more so on my heart, for some time. <br />
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I have taken various actions to address each of these to see what impact I might be able to make on them, and I have weighed my options. I've been poked with needles. I have met with reproductive endocrinologists and perinatologists. I've counted calories, fasted and prayed, researched, discussed, consumed massive amounts of chocolate to help with the stress of it all, pondered, and fretted. <br />
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I wanted to be sure that whatever conclusion I came to would be something I could live with for the rest of my life. I took into consideration the impact my decision would have on the other two people in my immediate family. Joe had already informed me that he would support whatever decision I made. This burden is ultimately on my shoulders, which is stressful enough. And at the same time, I did not feel completely alone, as I had Joe's support.<br />
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I finally feel like I have enough information to make a decision that I won't later regret. <br />
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And now the time has come to announce that I am still not pregnant. Instead of worrying about trying to force that issue and deal with the risks involved in another pregnancy, we have decided to move forward with the adoption process. We are a bit nervous about the whole process and are cautiously optimistic that this will allow our family to grow. Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-68872706573737126792016-01-25T09:37:00.000-08:002016-01-25T09:37:06.612-08:00Accepting InfluenceWhen I was studying in my master's program, I was introduced to Dr. John Gottman. He is a researcher and clinical psychologist who studies the science behind relationships and has written some excellent books on the subject. I find the work he has done to be fascinating, and it makes sense. I've used his ideas in counseling couples and in my own relationships.<br />
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One aspect of healthy relationships he teaches about he calls accepting influence. This idea resonates with me on a personal level, as it points to a big part of what I look for in my relationships.<br />
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As my husband wrote about in his most-recent blog post on compliments, sometimes when people interact with you, they are complimenting you. One of the biggest compliments someone can pay me is demonstrating that they have accepted my influence. After all, I want to be an influence for good in the lives of those around me. I want people to have a desire to and work toward a positive change because of me. If someone sees a way I act, hears a message I share, or otherwise learns of something I have done and then decides that because of it, they are going to act a certain way, I have influenced them .Ideally, I would like it to be an uplifting influence I have on others, as I don't need the guilt associated with bringing someone down to my level in areas where I lack.<br />
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Example: An old friend of mine frequently came to me for advice about how to deal with an issue in her romantic relationships. Honestly, it was the same issue that kept coming up in that relationship over and over again in different situations. Based on the information I had, which I realize is biased from only getting one person's perspective, and I said as much to her, I gave advice on what seemed like a good way to come to a resolution for that issue. She never took that advice. If she further contemplated the advice before deciding how to best move forward, she decided not to take it. But when she kept coming to me with the same issue repeating itself, asking for my advice, I questioned what the point was of doing so if she was never going to use it. Did she really just want to vent and try to figure things out on her own? Or was she really willing to accept my suggestion and eventually act on it? She insisted she wanted advice, but I was not providing her the advice she wanted to hear, so she discarded it. And eventually, that hurt and angered me. Did she think that I had such little to offer? Did she not realize that this was a repeated rejection of me?<br />
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I know it might seem like somewhat of a stretch, and some might think it isn't something I should take personally. But my education and training is in marriage and family therapy. I was approached as not only a friend but as somewhat of an expert in the field. I was given the impression on multiple occasions that she wanted my help. She wanted my time, my attention, and my thoughts. She wanted to connect with me by sharing personal details of her life. But she also wanted my help-- my influence. And yet, she never accepted it.<br />
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Do we accept the influence of people around us and allow it to work within us, giving us the opportunity for personal growth and development? Sometimes, I admit, I am better at this than others. Do I rise to become what I see as a better person because of my association with a particular person? Or do I expect them to change to meet my personal ego and comfort?<br />
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In my relationships, I honestly aim to both influence others and be influenced by them, both in positive, rather than negative, ways. I know I'm not exactly an expert in any particular area. I have experience, however, and that experience may give me knowledge and insight that a friend or family member is lacking due to their lack of experience. It is flattering when someone acknowledges that they have acted differently, positively, because of something they learned from me. But more important in my relationships is the ability to have mutually beneficial exchanges of ideas and experiences to then help each other grow. Just like I'm flattered someone has learned something from me that they take with them going forward, I like learning from people around me; I enjoy surrounding myself with people who inspire a positive change in me.<br />
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Have I helped my associates grow in positive ways as they have interacted with me? Have any of them chosen to do something differently than they otherwise may have because of something I said or did? Am I influencing others for good?<br />
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I had a conversation a while back with a friend of mine. I let him know that I noticed in his interactions with me that he really didn't seem to care to hear my opinions, and it hurt. I felt overlooked, ignored, and discarded as a person by the way interactions had gone with him. He hadn't realized that he had been doing this until then, but my bringing it to his attention helped him to understand my feelings, and his interactions with me started to change. I realized that I subconsciously became more receptive to his influence once he opened to mine. Our relationship moved from an acquaintance to a friendship.<br />
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I had another friend talk about signing up to volunteer in her son's classroom and said she thought of me as she signed up to do so. I was confused, as I don't have any kids whose classroom I volunteer in, so I asked her about it. She told me that she thought of me and how willing I was to volunteer to help others around me and felt like she should do the same. She accepted my influence-- influence I wasn't even aware I was giving! What a complement that was to me and to what she saw as my character!<br />
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When we accept influence of those around us, it may be done subtly, possibly even imperceptibly. Maybe we use language they use. Maybe we try out a television show, book, or band that was recommended to us. Maybe we add a little task to our routine that we learned they do. Maybe we research a topic to learn more about their viewpoint. These little acts acknowledge that we think that person is important enough to pay attention to. That person contributes something that has worth. Everyone has worth.<br />
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Today, I accepted my husband's influence by writing about this topic, which I had been thinking about for some time and had been meaning to write about. I'm about to accept a friend's influence by making sure I have a water bottle filled with water to drink from as I work so that I get enough water in for the day. I'm also about to accept another friend's influence by having a healthier breakfast option than what I might otherwise choose. But I have decided that I am going to try identify consciously some people who are influencing me for the good as I go about my day, and then properly thank them for doing so. For in these kinds of connections, relationships can truly grow and thrive.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-7099228080170545992015-04-09T11:31:00.001-07:002016-01-25T09:38:01.174-08:00State of the Union address<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We had good intentions to get out Christmas cards, but that never happened. And then I had good intentions to get out some cards for New Years, and then Valentine's Day . . . and here we are.<br />
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We didn't do our regular ugly sweater Christmas picture this year. We did, however, win tickets to the zoo, and we got this little gem while we were there.<br />
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I'm still trying to find a work-life balance. Some days and weeks it is better than others. At times, I want to run away from it all. But for the most part, I'm really enjoying being back at work.<br />
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My writing has been pretty much non-existent for quite some time. I write a sentence or two in a little diary/journal each night before bed, and I write status updates on Facebook, but that's about it.<br />
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Things are going pretty well for us right now. I really don't have anything to complain about. We are finally able to start getting some things taken care of around the house that we have been putting off. We finally painted our bedroom, got curtains, got new hardware for our bathroom cupboards, and even got the disgusting foil wallpaper from the 60s off the wall in the bathroom area. <br />
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Our renter moved out and got married. It's a bit weird and yet nice to have the place back to just us. It hasn't been that way for close to 3 years. That extra income from him was nice, but it wasn't needed, especially since I'm moving up with my new job/career.<br />
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I appreciate people being in my life still who have chosen to do so. I leave the door open and let people go in and out of their own choosing. I must admit that I have closed the door on a few people, but a knock to show they really want to be there is basically all it takes for me to open the door again for them. I'm more cautious when I open the door again, but I know that I've made mistakes myself and am willing to give people the same grace I hope others would be willing to give me.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-81383833794262726992014-12-13T10:51:00.006-08:002014-12-13T10:51:54.559-08:00Perspective- what a difference time makesLast year at this time, we were hopeful that Joe would get a new job after about 6 months of unemployment. Then we found out in an extremely unprofessional manner that he didn't get the job. The whole situation was quite a blow to our little family. And then he lost his unemployment benefits. There was some hope because of a refinance we were able to secure for our home, but we still questioned how we were going to make it through financially.<br />
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But we did. Last Christmas was full of generous people choosing to selflessly share their abundance with our family. It was humbling, touching, and amazing. In fact, it was the best Christmas I ever remember having. Still, our trials weren't over.<br />
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And, of course, even though I found a job and Joe later found a job, we have had trials this year as well. Having your identity stolen is not something I would wish on anyone (except maybe the person who stole mine, although I suspect her identity is not much worth stealing).<br />
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I remember when Joe lost his job and we had to exercise a lot of faith. We figured we'd exercised sufficient faith and were ready for our trial to be over. What a joke that was! Trying to tell God you've learned your lesson is much like trying to hold back the ocean.<br />
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We are feeling much more stable as a family this year. We got to spend so much time together last year and for part of this year that the very limited time we had together as a family once we both got jobs seemed grossly inadequate. I missed my husband. And yet, we did what we had to do to provide for our family, hoping that there would be an end to opposite schedules and a chance to have more time together to connect. While our schedules are still not ideal, we are finding that we finally do have more time together, and we are grateful for it.<br />
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Joy is surprising and amusing us every day. She is learning so much that I think if I was away from her for a week, I might go into shock at how different she'd be upon my return than she was when I left. <br />
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Sometimes I think about how much she is changing and wonder how much I am changing. Am I growing and developing in ways that I am unrecognizable to those who only knew me in the past? I am pretty sure that in many ways that answer is yes. And that's a good thing. While that growth was often squeezed forcefully out of me as I was thrust into challenging situations, I am able to look back and see the good that came from bad situations. I am able to ponder and reflect on things from a different angle that I would not consider before. <br />
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When I look at old photos of myself, I suspect that the past-me would not recognize the current-me or even begin to comprehend how she could get to this point. But I guess that's what you get when you grow as you live your life.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-71371292569236614922014-04-01T20:35:00.001-07:002016-01-25T09:40:12.487-08:00Secondary infertility and PCOSThese are topics that have been on my mind a lot lately for various reasons. But I realized that some well-meaning folks may not know a lot about one or both of these topics, so I figured I would do a quick post as a sort of PSA for anyone who might stumble across my blog.<br />
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Secondary infertility is the inability to conceive once you have had a child before. This difficulty can come for many reasons. But just because someone has been able to get pregnant before does not mean that person will have an easy time getting pregnant again.</div>
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I learned during my own struggles that my mother had difficulty conceiving her first child, just like I did. She got pregnant after using Clomid, just like I did. And then, as far as I know, she didn't have any difficulty conceiving the rest of the clan.</div>
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I, on the other hand, have a 3-year-old daughter and occasional conversations with well-meaning folks who ask when we're going to have another child. Please, please, please reconsider before asking people this question. It really isn't anyone's business but the family's whether or not they will be adding to it. Sure, you're curious and you want to know the information, but it can hurt. After all, I've had one child, so I therefore should be able to have more, right? Forget the fact that it took several years to get pregnant and get past the first few weeks of pregnancy. Forget the fact that I had to be put on Progesterone after finally getting pregnant to keep from miscarrying again. Forget the fact that I ended up in the hospital at 9 weeks pregnant, closer to death than I realized, due to a blood clot that had broken off from my legs and traveled to my lungs, filling both with clots and making it impossible for my body to get enough oxygen. Forget the hospital stay and surgery and tests. Forget the fact that my entire pregnancy was full of injecting myself in the stomach two-- and eventually three-- times a day with blood thinner so I wouldn't die, as well as a ridiculous number of blood draws to test the blood thinner level in my blood and run tests. Forget my high number of doctor's visits due to my high risk pregnancy. Forget the 9 months of nausea and vomiting in addition to all that other fun stuff. Forget my terrible delivery experience after my terrible pregnancy experience to top things all off. Forget the late-onset postpartum depression I suffered and everything that came with that long-lasting nightmare. Forget whether or not I WANT to possibly go through any or all of that again. </div>
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Forget all of that. Just know that the reason I'm not pregnant right now has nothing to do with not wanting another child. </div>
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I am currently suffering from secondary infertility. </div>
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Phew. Just saying that-- just putting that out there-- is scary and freeing and heartbreaking. It is the first time I have worded like that, even to myself, despite the fact I knew that was what was going on.</div>
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Just like before I was able to conceive Joy, I celebrate pregnancies and births with happiness for my friends. But just like before, they are each reminders of my body's current failures. Just like before, I answer well-meaning friends and acquaintances politely when they ask when/if we're going to have another child. But just like before, those questions stab me in the gut. </div>
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My secondary infertility is a side effect of my PCOS. My PCOS was also a contributing factor to my infertility before. So, yes, in theory, if I can get it under control somehow, I may no longer be infertile. One of the best ways to treat PCOS is through weight loss. When you have PCOS, losing weight is extremely difficult. Gaining weight can happen very easily, though. When you have PCOS, your hormones are out of whack. When your hormones are out of whack, your body does not work as a well-functioning machine. </div>
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Don't get me wrong. I am truly grateful for my family the way it is now. My daughter is what I call my miracle child. Being born after a loss, she is also my rainbow baby. I'm not sure if my family is complete now or not, but time will tell.</div>
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Be kind to people around you. We are all fighting our own battles. Some are more visible than others, but those that can't be seen aren't any less battles than those that can. </div>
Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-87661164457663524862014-01-02T14:10:00.001-08:002014-01-02T14:10:37.835-08:00So I guess I should write something...I haven't updated my blog in forever. In part because I don't like to hear myself whine and in part because it's a lot easier to just write something in my private journal or on Facebook. But I know not everyone is on Facebook and that no one is able to read my private journal. So I finally decided during these moments of quiet to write something (Joy is sleeping and Joe is getting the oil changed in my car and picking up a few groceries).<br />
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"Well, what the heck is going on with you these days?" you might ask. A lot and a whole lot of nothing at the same time, likely.<br />
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Joe and I are knee deep in the job hunt game. Interview-wise, he is currently having more luck than I am. Random-job wise, he is also having more luck. I did help a friend clean out her fridge and she paid me 20 bucks for the hour-and-a-half it took me. I kept thinking how much I should probably do that with our own fridge. I also have another friend who introduced me to one of her co-workers who was looking for a cat sitter. I have watched said cats on a few different occasions now. The pay is pretty good. Other than that, I'm still delivering papers and selling Origami Owl (www.debrapants.origamiowl.com if you're interested). But none of those things are long-term solutions. They were plans to help put a little extra money toward bills and savings and vacations back when Joe had a job. Now that he doesn't have a job, the money is being put toward bills, but there are many more bills than there is money to put toward it since his unemployment has now officially run out.<br />
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Yes, that leads me to the bulk of what has been on my mind since finding out the news. But to give a little background first. With the downturn of the economy, people and the government learned that 6 months of unemployment just wasn't enough for many people to help cover bills until they were back on their feet. Emergency funding was approved with an expiration date that extended the unemployment benefits. I'm not sure what the absolute longest is that someone could be on it, but when I was unemployed not-by-choice before getting pregnant, I was on it for a year before they took it away. And believe me, I was still looking for lots of jobs during that year! Most of my interviews were with staffing agencies to get me signed up with them. And most of them I never heard from after that. But I digress. When the expiration date for the emergency funding came, Congress approved an extension of benefits, as the economy was still in the crapper. This happened more than once since the funding was initially approved. And it just happened again. In the past, so I've heard, Congress has let the program expire before renewing it or changing it or whatever they did. I mean, why not? It's not like they have to worry how they're going to pay the bills and where they're going to sleep at night. And, so I've heard, those who lost the benefits were able to get back-pay of benefits. But I'm sure that time between was tough for them. I know it's tough for us.<br />
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And, of course, we don't KNOW that we will be eligible for any more unemployment. What gets me the most is that Joe spoke with someone in early or mid December to verify how long he would have unemployment benefits. He did this because we were starting to consider our "options." These options aren't exactly good for our financial health or my stress levels, but we wondered if we had reached the point where we should walk away from our house and move in with family until we could get back on our feet. You see, we are upside-down in our house by about 50K right now, so selling it isn't exactly an option. During the time Joe has been unemployed, our bills have exceeded the money we have had coming in by approximately $1000 a month. But we had savings and figured that if the money coming in and going out stayed consistent, we could last for about a year unemployed. So when Joe called the unemployment office and was told he'd have benefits for a year, we were relieved. Only that wasn't the case.<br />
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We are at a crossroads. We could borrow against our retirement savings because of this emergency, buying ourselves another couple months to live before being in terrible shape still and then being without options. Or we can move. Of course, Joe could also get a job, or I could get a job, or we both could get a job, and then we could stay here. But we only have so long before we cannot afford the bills anymore if that doesn't happen. And even if I get a job (which several people have been so kind as to send me job leads, but most are for jobs paying less than $13 an hour), unless it is by itself enough to pay the bills (spoiler alert: it won't be unless it pays approximately $5 an hour more than the most I've ever made at a job before), we would still be in this predicament. Joe can make enough, even if he takes a pay cut, to pay the bills and allow me to continue to be a stay at home mom. Washington state has one of the highest childcare costs in the nation to go along with its high cost of living. So there's that fun factor to take into account.<br />
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And here we are. Currently, we're playing a bit of a waiting game while still looking for jobs. We're waiting on Congress. We're waiting on this company Joe interviewed with before Christmas to let him know where he stands. We're waiting to hear back from other companies we've spent countless hours applying for jobs with. And while we wait, if time runs out, we need to start selling our belongings, packing, and walk away from the house.<br />
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But, in the meantime, we have received a lot of blessings at Christmastime. Family, friends, and strangers have shown us support in different ways. We are so grateful for and appreciative of that! We hope this next year is kinder to us, even though we aren't off to a good start yet! Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-68392662274793024972013-09-19T18:21:00.001-07:002013-09-19T18:21:33.032-07:00The Problem with ParrotsJoy likes to repeat things she hears. This isn't anything new. Luckily, I have been more aware of things I'm personally saying and have watched myself more since she came around.<br />
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Sometimes, she hears things from TV shows or other people and repeats them.<br />
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At times, those repeats shock me. "Let's play tag!" she announced one day, when we'd never played it before. I'm not sure who introduced tag to her, but she hadn't been around anyone a day or two prior that I figured would have played with her. Was it a TV show? I have no idea.<br />
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Recently, as we were out for a walk and she didn't want to head home, I decided to tell her, "You can't catch me!" and speed walk to distract her. It worked. She giggled as she hurried behind me, finally tagging me and calling me "it." But before long, she decided she wanted to play "Hide and Go Seek," which was another game she brought up that I had no idea she knew what it was. Granted, she tends to play it more like Peek-a-Boo than Hide and Go Seek, but I was surprised she'd heard of it anyway. She stopped at a bush and called out, "One, two, three, four, five... ready or not, here I come!" Joe and I were cracking up.<br />
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Those parroting moments bring me a lot of entertainment. But what bothers me is when she hears on her TV shows or wherever else things I'd rather she didn't say. Hearing her parrot the Lord's name in vain makes me cringe. I have sat down with her and told her that while some people say that, we don't. And I tell her why. I even give her an alternate thing to say, such as, "Oh my goodness!" I think it has finally gotten through to her, because I haven't caught her saying that for a while, when it seemed to be a regular thing for a while there. <br />
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What are some of her favorite exclamations right now? "I did it! I did it!" And this is usually followed by an, "I did it all by myself!" She's so proud of her accomplishments, from finishing a puzzle, eating her food, putting her toys away, or something else. She also likes, "That is so amazing!" or some other similar exclamation using the word. She likes to exclaim about how "high" or "tall" or "big" or "beautiful" or "cute" things are as well, often with an enthusiastic "Wow!" thrown in there. <br />
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Sometimes I wish I could keep her in a bubble.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-65772049839082728472013-07-11T23:19:00.000-07:002015-04-09T11:34:01.619-07:00Doors and windowsA ton has been going on in the past couple months for our family. Around the beginning of May, I had a cold. But right around the time I was supposed to be feeling better, I noticed some symptoms I haven't had the other bazillion times I've had colds in the past 12 months. I was worried I might have pneumonia or bronchitis, so I went to the doctor's office on Friday before Mother's Day. She assured me I had neither and sent me off with a prescription for antibiotics "just in case."<br />
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Because I'm not one to go to the doctor demanding drugs, nor am I one to take antibiotics "just in case", I hung on to them. But the day after Mother's Day when things weren't getting better, I decided to go ahead and take them. I just had a feeling my doctor was wrong and it wasn't something that would just go away on its own.<br />
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Fast forward almost a month (yes, I'm serious) and several phone calls and doctor appointment, and I wasn't any better. In some ways, I was actually worse. At that point in time, I had gone through one round of antibiotics, been given a regular inhaler and a steroid inhaler, put on steroids, put on a cough medicine, told I was having an asthma attack (for days, apparently, if that was what was actually going on), puked countless times from coughing so hard, and lots of other fun stuff. My doctor, who up until that point in time had insisted I didn't have pneumonia, had done no tests whatsoever. She had listened to my lungs and checked my ears and nose and throat, and that was about it. Oh, and written or called in prescriptions (although technically an on-call doctor called in a prescription for an inhaler over the weekend one Sunday because of my difficulty breathing and hopes that something like that would help).<br />
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So, my doctor finally ordered a test. But it wasn't a simple chest x-ray or lab work or anything like that. It was a $850 (my portion, anyway) chest CT. <br />
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Then she told me I had a "nodule" that was about 8.5 cm in my lungs. Turned out a week later that there had been a typo and it was only 8.5 mm. I thought the crisis was over. But she still wanted me to see a pulmonologist, so I had an appointment scheduled with one for today, not sure if I really needed to see one.<br />
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Then Joe got laid off from his job right before July started. We're baffled as to why, but we are looking at it as a blessing in disguise. We have cut expenses and are making ends meet and trying not to dip into our emergency savings, but he also got a severance check from work. Luckily, we still temporarily have insurance coverage, which will cover today's appointment.<br />
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So, I went in to see the pulmonologist, hoping and almost sure he'd say the issues I was having were due to pneumonia (yeah, that turned out to be what my doctor diagnosed me with after the chest CT) and that the nodules were nothing to worry about. But he can't say that without further testing. Because of the location of the nodule, a biopsy wouldn't be easy to do. So I had blood drawn to test for Valley Fever and will have a PET scan done sometime next month, and then I'll have a follow-up appointment with him. Fun stuff. Basically, he's looking to see if the nodule in question (and others in my lungs) are due to an active infection or if they are left over from some old infection but are inactive. Once he has that information, he'll know what he wants to do for the next step.<br />
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So, for now, as I've been doing since the beginning of May, I wait. I am glad that I was given a second round of antibiotics when the doctor found out it actually WAS pneumonia and started feeling better almost immediately. I haven't puked for probably between 2 and 3 weeks now. I'm breathing better and using my inhaler less frequently. <br />
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So some doors are closing and windows are opening and hopefully answers will be found soon. Things may be changing drastically here in the near future. We shall see.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-77796948610332918712013-05-11T01:34:00.001-07:002013-05-11T01:34:17.512-07:00Abercrombie & Fitch, rape, chastity, money, and weightI've had jobs ever since I was young to teach me responsibility and earn a little money. Delivering free local newspapers while still in elementary school was a venture forced upon me that embarrassed me to no end. Babysitting for money became my next source of cash flow. And then when I turned 16 and got my first minimum wage job, I thought I had really made it. I was able to spend money on myself and get things I'd been denied up to that point by my penny-pinching parents.<br />
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Despite my mom's warnings to save my money and cautions that I would never have this much disposable income again in my life, I spent every dime I didn't donate to my church in the form of tithes.<br />
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And I liked it.<br />
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I thought spending money helped me fit in with my richer friends. I thought it helped me dress better, as I was able to start buying my own clothes versus wearing hand-me-downs and whatever my mom was willing to buy for me as my back-to-school outfit. Miller's Outpost and Clothestime and other trendy stores became some of my go-to places for shopping. I even started buying cookies from the snack cart between classes and supplementing my lunch money allowance when I went with my richer friends off-campus for subs, pasta, and other fast foods.<br />
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These spending habits followed me to college, where I was even more desperate to feel included after all my old high school friends and I were on different paths. I was so alone, and I just wanted to fit in. So from day one, I tried. Now Urban Outfitters and their $50 shirts and other clothes I couldn't afford became my personal "must haves." In fact, as I watched The Host in theaters some weeks ago, I spent part of the movie fixated on the fact that the weird mesh-y top the main character wore was IDENTICAL to one I had purchased at Urban Outfitters around 1999 or 2000. Talk about weird. I'm not even sure what I thought was cool about that top in the first place. But it was at Urban Outfitters, so it must have been cool. <br />
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Before I went to Italy in 2001, I bought a little pair of tennis shorts and a form-fitting t-shirt at Abercrombie and Fitch. In fact, I purchased the outfit while shopping with my would-be rapist. I was spending time that afternoon with him walking around the mall and getting some last-minute items for my 6-week study abroad program. He was a co-worker I was playing Good Samaritan for since he'd gotten intoxicated off Chili's margaritas and other miscellaneous alcoholic beverages that he started drinking with his lunch while eating in my assigned section of the restaurant (and I think I therefore felt at least partially responsible). I didn't want him behind the wheel, and taking him to the mall with me while I ran errands and he sobered up was the first of several suggestions he was willing to agree to.<br />
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The clothes were a poor choice not only because the shorts were shorter than anything I should have been wearing but also because they were ridiculously over-priced for what I was getting. A lot of those clothes I bought at stores like Abercrombie and Fitch just didn't last long before they started falling apart. But that didn't matter. I was buying a name brand. I was buying into the hype of what was "cool."<br />
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I was wearing that newly purchased outfit later that night when he picked me up and forcefully carried me to my bedroom where he raped me.<br />
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I got rid of that outfit. I haven't shopped at Abercrombie and Fitch since then. Perhaps the memories tied with that store were tainted for me, and definitely those tied with the shorts and shirt were. Then again, perhaps I stopped shopping there because I realized it just didn't matter any more.<br />
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I comfort-ate instead of addressing the rape and prolonged my healing process by refusing to acknowledge the significance of that event in my life. I am far from healed from it, but I am more self-aware, which is a start. I have learned that I became terribly self-loathing after the rape. I blamed myself instead of the perpetrator. I told myself if I wouldn't have served him alcohol, if I wouldn't have refused to let him drive his car home, if I wouldn't have gone shopping with him until he sobered up, if I wouldn't have let him into my home when he stopped by that evening and I was temporarily alone, if I wouldn't have worn that outfit or some other such drivel, that I somehow could have and should have prevented that rape from occurring.<br />
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In short, I was making myself responsible for his choices. I was making myself responsible for his actions. I was saying that at that moment in time, I became too attractive a prey for that predator to keep his hormones or need for power or whatever it was that drove him to act in check, and I was therefore at fault for whatever conspired.<br />
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I brought myself up on charges, found myself guilty, sentenced myself to endless suffering, and threw away the key without even a second thought. <br />
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And yet, I never once laid the blame squarely or even mostly on him, where it belonged. Where it belongs. <br />
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Then I attended a Gestalt therapy group. The group leader asked for volunteers to be "worked on." As I sat among the roomful of strangers casting curious looks at each other and trying to guess the next volunteer, I nervously raised my hand before I could talk myself out of it. I had no idea what I was going to say. I was asked what I wanted to be "worked on" for that evening. Unsure myself what the plan was from here, I opened my mouth, and the story of the rape and my guilt came tumbling out through rivers of tears. Surely, here, I would be strung up from the rafters for all to spit upon.<br />
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Instead, I was assigned the task to face the males in the group, one at a time, and repeat to each one while looking him in the eyes that I was not responsible for my rapist's actions and the rape wasn't my fault. I cannot describe how incredibly difficult it was to look into the faces of these strangers and give voice to words I did not believe to be true.<br />
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In fact, if I must confess, sometimes I still don't believe them to be true. I have struggled to figure out just why. And I believe this is partially because of the church lessons on virtue (apparently synonymous with chastity) and modesty that were taught and the messages received by me as a result of those lessons: namely, the primary responsibility for the sexual interactions between a male and a female fall on the shoulders, cleavage, thighs or other arousing anatomy of the female. I was therefore taught indirectly that what it means to be a girl is to supposedly have power to take away someone's agency with how I look, if I am not dressed modestly enough. Yes, only that extra fabric stands between a boy and his agency. However, at 21 years old, I was still trying to figure out who I was. I knew I wanted to be and was supposed to be beautiful
and attractive to men. But I was left to figure out on my own what exactly that vague yet cryptic message meant. I knew that the confusing
and erroneous societal ideas of what beautiful and attractive should look like at any given moment were often not in line with what I figured to be okay and not okay from my religious teachings. I had a slew of conflicting messages coming my way, and I was desperate to sort them out for myself.<br />
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One thing I did know after my rape was that I didn't want to attract that kind of attention again. I needed to get rid of my prettiness. I didn't think I really had to worry about how desirable I was as a person, because my worth was gone. I was destroyed by this action. But sexual predators were still out there, lurking somewhere. I didn't want to be prey anymore. I hid myself away. I coped terribly. I developed a binge eating disorder that plagues me to this day. I covered my emotions up with food, mistaking the satisfaction of a pleasurable eating experience with contentment. I assured myself I was fine when that was far from the truth. <br />
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And yet, someone occasionally was attracted to me anyway. One by one, I pushed suitors away, sure they would leave when they saw the whole truth of the ugliness that was me behind the mirage I was sure they must have been seeing. Finally, when I was brave enough to share my story with someone who had the ability to turn and run and break my heart from doing so, he stayed. I was lucky that way.<br />
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Still, I have those thoughts. And I now also have the unfortunate negative consequences of my reluctance to acknowledge the gravity of the situation and its impact on my life. Sometimes I push people away, sure they'll leave once they know the real me. And some gladly clock out and turn tail at the first push. Some leave on their own accord. Precious are those who know the whole truth and have still stayed. For it is they who I believe really know ME.<br />
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THIS is how those messages hurt me. They hurt me as much as, if not more than, the rape itself. I am trash. I am ugly. I am worthless. Those are my new messages now. <br />
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But I'm fighting against the messages. I am fighting against the lies. I know we all have the ability to change our thoughts, to change our beliefs (even those that are so erroneous and damaging which we stubbornly cling to anyway), and to change our actions.<br />
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Of course, as a student of human behavior, I realize we can greatly influence the actions of others. I think this is the other reason why I continue to hold myself responsible for my rape at times. I know that how we interact with others affects how they in turn interact with us. And not all these interactions are verbal, physical, or even in person. Advertisers know this. Politicians know this. Great salespeople know this. <br />
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Abercrombie and Fitch knows this. And they think their marketing and selections will work in their favor. Perhaps some people will buy their clothes more now that they know the CEO has spoken out against anyone size XL or larger. Perhaps they will believe the brand is more "exclusive" than some other alternatives, thinking supporting it will include them in the ranks of the "cool" and "popular" and "thin" crowd. Perhaps not. I know that I don't have the choice right now, so it's easy to say I will never wear their clothes again. But the strong part of me who is writing this knows I won't.<br />
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It's not because of my rape, either. I'm just not interested in immodest clothing anymore. I'm not interested in spending hard-earned money on clothing that isn't more durable. I'm not interested in supporting brands that tell you that you have to be a certain way or you have no worth. I've had enough of those lies for a lifetime. Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-60364675068510032802013-04-03T14:53:00.003-07:002013-04-03T14:53:40.047-07:00Girl chores versus boy choresI have a pretty great husband. He isn't the best at taking initiative in helping out around the house with things that need to be done, but he is more than willing to help out when I ask him to. I have to admit, I laugh when I ask him if he can swing by the grocery store and ask for something and what would be a quick stop for me is a challenge for him. I tend to receive phone calls from him while he's at the grocery store asking for some sort of clarification, no matter how extensive my directions to him are before he leaves the house.<br />
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I've learned that there were certain things he grew up not even learning how to do because he was a boy. Likewise, there were chores he did that his sisters didn't have to do because they were girls.<br />
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The idea is kind of fascinating to me. Why can't a girl learn how to change a tire, change her oil, mow the lawn, pick up dog poop in the yard, or take out garbage cans? Likewise, why can't a boy learn how to change a diaper, cook, wash dishes, sew a button, or do the laundry?<br />
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I commented on Facebook last night that I had just mowed for the first time in probably 3 years. I've mowed at our house, but I don't think I have since I got pregnant or since our daughter was born. Partly because someone has to keep an eye on her, and that is usually me. And it's not exactly easy for a pregnant lady to mow, I'm sure. I know it's somewhat unusual for women to mow, but it's not something that should be delegated to men.<br />
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In fact, I decided that as I had time and energy and the ability to do so, instead of just asking my husband to do certain chores, I would do them myself. I'm a capable person. I don't like feeling like I'm constantly giving him things to do around the house, either. If it's something I haven't done in a long time, like mowing, my skills may be a bit rusty and could use some refreshing. And if it's something I haven't ever done before but could learn how to do it just as easily as he could, I might as well learn that new skill.<br />
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So I guess I have to make a general list of things to be done around the house, and whoever gets to each of the items first will take care of it. Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-4648510254147843952013-03-16T20:00:00.001-07:002013-03-16T20:00:31.914-07:00Follow-up to my last postI spoke with my supervisor yesterday. He didn't seem to care about my paycheck being higher than it should be. He said that the person he had cover my paper route didn't have enough room for all the papers in their car, so he did some. I told him that then he should get the money and not me, but he shrugged it off and said it was no big deal and said it's his job. So he must get paid a lot more than we do. Anyway, I did my part and can sleep with a clean conscience. Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-90513477862125189312013-02-13T14:32:00.002-08:002013-02-13T14:32:37.774-08:00Plane rides and tantrumsWe just got home yesterday from a vacation that wasn't long enough and yet was probably about the right length of time. <br />
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As the day for the trip arrived and my alarm clock went off way too early, I thought, 'We could just stay home. I could just stay in bed for the next several days. Heck, Joe and Joy could go on vacation and then I could get a little vacation myself.' I smiled at the thought as my body fought for more sleep, but I finally got up reluctantly. Don't get me wrong. It's not that I didn't want to go. I was just so tired. <br />
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And I didn't sleep well during the whole trip, either. Oh, how I've been spoiled by my fancy, newfangled bed! Let's just say I slept incredibly last night, despite the fact that Joy woke me up at 1 am and then Joe woke me up as he prepared to leave for work (at which time, I was unable to fall back asleep).<br />
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I remembered my first flight with Joy. It was just the two of us. And it was rough, despite the fact that she behaved okay during the flight. Remembering that made me anxious for the flights to and from San Diego, even though we'd outnumber her two-to-one this time. <br />
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The first flight was fairly empty, and Joy, who didn't have a ticket for her own seat, got her own seat as a result. She looked out the window with Daddy, enjoying the sights of the airplanes and everything else. We had a stop, where we moved up to a row of seats closer to the front of the plane after Joy got a chance to walk around the fairly empty plane to get some energy out. The second portion of the flight went well too.<br />
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Yesterday, however, was a different story. The first part of the flight wasn't completely full, so she did get her own seat. But she was not in a good mood and whined more than we would have liked. We were informed the second part of the flight would be completely full. We moved forward in the plane so we could get out of it more quickly. I felt terrible for the woman sitting next to me when Joy started throwing tantrums that weren't easily remedied. I can't say I was surprised when she ordered alcohol to get her through the flight. And I can't say I was surprised when it appeared that she was comped the drinks. It was like the flight attendant felt terribly for her too!<br />
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But what did surprise me was that, despite Joy's tantrums and our futile tag-team attempts to appease her, the woman next to me started chatting with me and even paid me compliments about how I was teaching Joy. She said it was obvious I was doing something right. And to hear that while Joy was behaving the way she was really touched me. A compliment when a child isn't acting the best really means a lot! She informed me she was an educator as her way of identifying her credentials to let me know she knew what she was talking about, making the compliment even more kind, somehow. <br />
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It's nice to know I don't have to be perfect and my child doesn't have to be perfect, and I can still get credit for my hard work. Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-8719340244790196232012-12-28T11:30:00.000-08:002012-12-28T11:30:15.868-08:00ResolutionsI've started thinking about what I want to do for my resolutions for 2013. Sure, I could go with the old stand-bys of working out x days per week or losing x pounds during the year or paying off x debt. And I think I might do that as some goals. <br />
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But more than thinking about that, I want to work on my writing. And I have been thinking about creating a goal related to that. I have two first drafts of novels written, as well as some unfinished writing projects. But I kind of want to do something new as my primary project. <br />
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Have you given any thoughts to resolutions? Are you going to make any, or are you against resolutions?Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-24142519189974743782012-12-05T21:18:00.001-08:002012-12-05T21:18:05.001-08:00Favorite holiday traditionsOne of my favorite traditions this time of year was going out to see Christmas lights with the family on Christmas Eve. There were some houses fairly close to ours that went all out with their lights, and it was a lot of fun to see them. There was even someone who would dress up like Santa and hand out candy canes to people in cars that were driving slowly down the street to enjoy the lights. It was also a tradition in the area to put out luminarias, which were lighted candles set inside paper bags. Seeing those in the neighborhood really was something. <br />
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We have tried to create some of our own traditions as a new family. Each year, we go to a local thrift store and look for Christmas sweaters to take a family photo in. Then we buy a picture frame ornament with the year on it to put the picture in. The first year we did this, one of my older sisters told another sister that she was worried about me. We tried to be as cheesy as possible so people would know that we weren't serious, but apparently she thought we were serious and I was turning into my mother or something. Ha ha! This year, we haven't found Christmas sweaters, so we think we may not be able to participate, and I'll be really bummed to have to break this tradition. <br />
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Another tradition we're trying to keep is based loosely on something we did as a family when I was younger. As a family, we went around to neighbors and family friends singing Christmas carols and giving some sort of homemade gift my mom baked. I wasn't a fan of the singing each year, but we always got into the spirit of it part of the way through. Still, I decided I'm not really interested in a Von Trapp singing family (especially since there are only 2 of us right now who can sing), but I want to at least do a little something for my neighbors. We haven't done this every year, but this year we dropped off poinsettias and Christmas cards, and all our neighbors were appreciative. <br />
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What are some traditions you have or would like to start for the holidays, whether Christmas Eve, Christmas, New Year's Eve, New Year's, or some other day?Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-14750294868366600092012-12-03T20:23:00.000-08:002012-12-03T20:23:04.322-08:00NaNoWriMoI am a writer!!!<br />
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I have had a couple little things published and haven't even kept track of them. But I have participated in National Novel Writing Month four different years and have "won" three of those four years. <br />
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Writing a 50,000 word novel in 30 days (the goal of NaNoWriMo) is fun and yet challenging. There were more than a few times during that 30 days each year when I thought about giving up. I had to silence my inner critic (who I will call Cruella, because of her ruthlessness) who wanted me to re-write what I'd already written and/or start over and/or edit the crap out of it. I wanted Cruella to shut up for 30 days so I could just get a beginning, middle, and end out on paper. It was tough, but I managed to do it. And now, I have a story written. I'm pretty sure I contradicted myself at least once in the story, but it is written! It is a story that wasn't written in my head (only the basics), let alone on paper (so to speak) before November. <br />
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So I have been relaxing the past few days, enjoying library books that I wondered when I'd get a chance to read them. It's a fabulous feeling of success. <br />
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The writing process was surely a labor of love, and now I have a newborn baby book to nurture. So I suppose I should get to work on that. But I'd like to finish the books I have checked out from the library first.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-92101805011816155732012-11-30T23:29:00.002-08:002012-11-30T23:29:36.309-08:00They say imitation is the sincerest form of flatteryThis morning I was Exhausted with a capital e when Joy decided she was up for the day. So I dragged my butt out of bed and put a show on TV for her (yes, I do that in the morning when I'm still waking up, and I'm not ashamed to admit it). Then I fell asleep on the couch. I don't think I was asleep long, because Joy doesn't let that happen. Besides, my nose was all stuffed up and I think I may have snored a bit and woke myself up as a result. Anyway, Joy came over to me, all smiles, and wanted to cuddle. I lifted her up on the couch with me, pulling the blanket over her as she tried to take over the small square pillow my head was on. She was copying me in every way she could... and then she started fake snoring. What a little stinker! I couldn't help but laugh.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-45843368182719498662012-11-28T20:59:00.004-08:002012-11-28T20:59:44.872-08:00Public Service Announcement- FiresI am a registered volunteer with the American Red Cross. I signed up back in 2009 when they were concerned about flooding in the area and thought they would have to open up multiple shelters because of it. In fact, we were told it wasn't a matter of whether or not flooding would occur, but when. At our house, we readied a room for visitors. We figured that if someone was displaced and came to us through our church, we would be ready for them. We even went so far as to buy a memory foam futon so they could have a comfy bed. The flooding never came.<br />
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I didn't receive any emails requesting volunteers for shelters until I was pregnant and unable to help. After giving birth, I was of course busy with my newborn daughter. She's now a toddler, and I figure that if I need to every once in a while, I can volunteer as long as my husband is available to watch her for at least the majority of the time I will be volunteering.<br />
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This month, I have volunteered at 2 different shelters about 2 weeks apart. Both shelters were opened because of apartment fires. And while I was working at the shelter last night, we heard of another apartment fire that might create a need for the shelter to stay open and expand to accommodate more people.<br />
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At this time of year, there are many fire resulting from decorations and the like. Please be safe!Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-87154989322020788672012-11-27T15:11:00.003-08:002012-11-27T15:11:51.760-08:00My little goofballShe has some adorable hats, but she doesn't really like to wear them. She does like to wear Mom or Dad's baseball cap. She's also been known to walk around in a beanie (sometimes worn correctly, and sometimes completely covering her eyes). When she got her little Halloween basket, she started alternating between putting toys in it and wearing it as a sort of helmet. And then sometimes, there's this: <br />
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Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-87018649225959534702012-11-27T10:22:00.001-08:002012-11-27T10:45:19.095-08:00Christmas season is here!!!I have found as I get older that I am looking forward to Christmas more. I am sure I looked forward to it as a kid, but I know there were years when I didn't care about it much. As a single adult, I sometimes participated in Christmas Angel events to try to get into the spirit, but I didn't care much about decorating or baking or things like that. I know I wasn't into any of those aspects of Christmas as a kid. I remember not really caring much about Christmas movies and music, and now I enjoy those, even the cheesy Christmas movies. And now I look forward to decorating the house inside and out, baking and giving out cookies, and even wrapping gifts. <br />
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Having a child has even made it all more exciting for me. I can understand how kids see commercials and decide they want about 1000 different things for Christmas based on the ads. I do the same thing with items that are on sale when it comes to shopping for her! I haven't gotten her many toys, but I got her books and sing-along videos and winter clothes and have been tempted to buy so much more for her. I mean, have you seen toddler boots? They are crazy cute!!! I pretty much had her Christmas shopping done months ago, but I keep finding things for her and getting them. Now I just need to decide what I will hang on to for her birthday AND STOP BUYING THINGS FOR HER!<br />
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How do you feel about the holiday season? Love it, loathe it, or somewhere in between? What are some of your favorite things about it? Least favorite things about it?Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-29604881546390339832012-10-03T16:13:00.000-07:002012-10-03T16:13:13.273-07:00Money, money, moneyI keep waiting for more money to drop out of the sky. Unfortunately, it hasn't happened yet. So I guess I really need to start looking for work. Hopefully, it won't take forever. We need to do some things around the house (like yesterday) that we have been putting off far too long because we don't have the money for it. And we would like to actually be able to take an occasional vacation (maybe going to see our family) and save money for future purchases. It's just not happening right now. And so the best way to make ends meet is to make longer ends. Ugh.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-16737487937472017582012-09-20T19:32:00.001-07:002012-09-20T19:32:26.915-07:00Waaaaah!It's not that Joy has never thrown a tantrum before, but she is full on tantruming now. It's out of control. It makes ME want to tantrum!Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-37166951348921643772012-02-04T20:55:00.000-08:002012-02-04T20:55:24.947-08:00Photos of JoyJoy was excited to meet Santa at our church Christmas dinner in early December.<br />
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She also enjoyed the Seattle Aquarium right before Christmas.<br />
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She had a nice Christmas at Mimi and Papa's house and got wonderful gifts from them and Aunt Kristine.<br />
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She's walking all over the place now!<br />
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We went to the Kids Quest Museum in Bellevue yesterday, and she LOVED it!<br />
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And that's a little bit of what we've been up to lately.Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8059603528490826069.post-6900294808217665372012-01-29T20:51:00.000-08:002012-01-29T20:51:13.745-08:00JoyHard to believe she's close to a year old already! In some ways, the year has flown by. And in some ways, it feels so much longer. Still, I'm not ready for how grown up she already is, let alone all the growing up that is just around the corner. <br />
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She is walking now. She has been since Christmas Eve. Her first step was just a few days before that, but that was when she started going for it. She has been pulling herself up to stand and cruising along furniture for months, so I knew it was just a matter of time. Once she realized she could actually take a step without seriously hurting herself, she was otherwise ready.<br />
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She finally got her first tooth. Well, it's still coming in. It first appeared earlier this month. And now her second tooth is also emerging. <br />
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She still doesn't really like to eat too much food, so most of her nutrition comes from formula. She's not too keen on switching from bottles to sippy cups, so that's a struggle, and when she does eat food, it's mostly just a few bites.<br />
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She's got such a fun little personality, and she is so small compared to many other babies I've seen that are her same age. It's been fun to meet other local moms with kids the same age and see the similarities and differences between them as well as make new friends. <br />
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I know this is short, but I'm tired and should get myself to bed. But if you have any tips to get her to be more into sippy cups, I'd love to hear them!Debrahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/09742678442997900246noreply@blogger.com2