The Why Of It

When I wrote of going home a couple posts ago, it prompted a few emails from old friends I haven't spent much time with since I left the Valley of the Sun nearly six years ago, so I figure I'll answer them and provide a little back story here, as well.

The fact is, I just haven't felt good in a very long time. And, the worse I've felt, the less I do. To the point where I may have actually evolved into the slug genus (or family or whatever the scientific term is) at some point along the way.  I might make it to work, but increasingly, I haven't. I might make it to church, but increasingly, I haven't. Most days, I just don't feel well, but increasingly, I have been full-on sick and in pain. (In case you're wondering, I'm being paid by Thesaurus.com for every word over three syllables that I write; double for every word I use more than once.) (Not really. That was a lie. Just looking for a little diversion from the subject matter. I get a little uncomfortable talking about this stuff.)

Anyway.

OK, so we've been doing lots of tests and scans and such, and "the big scaries" have been pretty much ruled out, so now we're down to the deep digging to try to get at the root of it all. I don't think it's going to be earth shattering, what we ultimately find. I've felt for some time that it all resides in the gut -- that we're going to find that the curse of "The Fraley Stomach" is in play (which covers everything from colon cancer to nervousness to Chron's disease, and my Dad's take on the family curse, diverticulitis) and it has been ignored for so many years that my body is just saying it's had enough.

Seem drastic to quit everything just so you can learn how to eat in a manner that won't cause your entire system to revolt? It is. But I have to. And while there are all sorts of ways doing this is going to make my life better, the fundamental, most overriding reasons I've decided to are because: 1) I don't want this less than half-life, this vague "I just don't feel like it" lack of focus, not up for anything state to be the totality of my children's experience with me as their mother; and 2) I know with every bit of me that this is the right thing to do.

There was a time when my life was wildly out of balance because I was working in that crazy field of public relations, where you are on all the time -- or at least I was, because I didn't know how to shut it off. That's not to say I was working all the time, because I wasn't, but I was always hyper aware, thinking of how to develop a strategy for a client, wondering if a creative proposal was going to be accepted, wondering if I was going to convince that television producer or that newspaper editor to run the story I pitched, hoping that client was not going to step in it; worrying whether the hundreds of thousands of dollars we'd spent on an event series was going to net the return in real estate purchases and investments our clients were counting on. I couldn't turn it off. And with four tiny ones at home who were spending a lot of quality time with a nanny and to whom I gave every bit of energy and smiles I had left, it didn't take many years before it all kind of started crumbling.

I admit it was I who didn't know how to achieve balance, but it doesn't alter the fact that I was worn out and tho in my early 30s, my body started to show it. I began to be sick a lot; my clients had no idea how much of the work I did for them was done from bed. I began missing deadlines. Making excuses -- oh, I HATE the making excuses.Thankfully, we had the wherewithal to provide really healthy, quality nutrition for our family, so even if we were eating out we were eating well. I know that kept me clicking along in spite of the lack of rest and restoration.

But, the years took their toll and started a process in my body that I didn't even know was underway. And somehow, it led to where I am now. And I don't want this.

I wish my kids hadn't had the experience they have with my various, near-constant blahs, but there's no going back. So now, what I want is for my children to be able to say, "Yes, there was a long time when Mom was always sick and just didn't really take care of things, but then she got well and our lives changed."

Now, it's not all doom and gloom - really, the kids are fine. We have a good relationship, they know they're loved, we laugh a lot, and they're wonderfully on track. Mike and I are solid -- we love each other and are each other's very best friends -- through thick and thin, that boy and I are good. But, it's time to get better now, to stop barking orders from a chair in the living room, to stop wishing they knew how strong and active I once was and instead to be strong and well again.

I have felt over the years that through every trial that could have broken us - financially, spiritually, as a couple, in health matters - that God has protected us. That he has kept the wolves at bay, so to speak, and kept us safe until we could deal with what was in front of us. I continue to feel that way. There's no other explanation for why our little family hasn't just completely fallen apart. :) But we haven't. We're good, in spite of the home projects that haven't been advanced, the countless things I've forgotten to take care of for the kids because I was just too muzzy-headed to remember it all, the meals that haven't been cooked, the trips we haven't taken, the bills I didn't have the energy to pay in spite of having the money to, all of it.  In spite of all of the ways we've been completely out of order, we have been blessed with so much love and joy and laughter and strong bonds. It feels like we've been protected until I could finally make this choice to take care of myself, and I trust that this is not the time when the protection will be lifted, rather it'll see me through this to the other end too.

That isn't to say this was an easy decision or an easy time. It's been tough. My pride --oh, my poor pride -- has taken a beating. Calling in sick again and again. Being mortified to leave a job I'd only taken 7 months ago. Seeing disapproval and skepticism in the eyes of some -- oh, that's a fun one. Not being myself -- or being able to show what I'm really capable of, to operate at the level that I used to, to not be a dynamo -- wanting to throw in a disclaimer every time I turn around of, "Seriously, this isn't me. I'm actually pretty stinking good at this stuff, usually." And realizing I've wanted to throw in that disclaimer since circa 2005, when it all started to really seem to hit.  All of that was tough. I mean TOUGH. There are some who have been left unimpressed -- I'm enough of a Leo for that to really smart. But, obviously, that should be the least of it. I'm human enough, too, though, to admit that this was some of the hardest part.

But, none of that matters now. I can say that and believe it, though it's a tentative statement. I know I should be doing this without reservation, but frankly, it's been a hard decision and there's been a lot of self-deprecating, I-don't-want-to-look-like-a-failure-or-a-flake recriminations pounding around inside. But, I've decided to be a big girl and set that aside and embrace what I know is true -- that this is right and it's necessary and I will be blessed and so will those closest to me and that's all that counts. I've been playing to that critical audience in my mind for a darn long time, and it's received enough of me.

I had a doctor recently who said to me (first with the disclaimer that he didn't usually go therapist on his patients or get emotional,) "I don't sense that even now, while you're sitting here telling me that you really want to get to the bottom of this and get well, that you really believe you deserve it. It's as if you seem to feel the need to apologize for taking time to focus on yourself. You speak of your love for your husband, and needing to be well to take care of a sick kid, but I don't think you realize that you need to get well just because you're worth it. You don't need to earn it or justify it -- you're just worth it and that's enough reason to be here." Then he told me to drink a gallon of water every day and add 400 uninterrupted steps to my day and come back in a week and we'll discuss what we were going to do next. Of all the docs I've been to lately, he's my favorite.

So. That's the back story.  I haven't felt good for a long time -- and all the chaos and clutter and pain I've felt on the inside is now visible on the outside - my body, my swollen face, my messy house, the neglected bills and neglected relationships. The stuff I haven't taken care of because I just felt so darn bad. It will all be OK once I am.

OH GOOD GRIEF. This is so much blech, but there you have it. I don't expect I'll be loading this space down with all the ins and outs of it, but we'll see how it goes. I'm not putting a lot of parameters on this time yet -- the time starting this coming Friday, by the way, the 1st day after my last day of work. I'm actually excited and keep forcing myself to wait till Friday to really dig in and figure out how I'm going to go about this. The anticipation has been like waiting for Christmas when I was a little girl, or a George Strait concert, or going to the temple with Mike -- it really does have me excited because I know I'm going to come out the other end well and strong and by extension, my family will be well and strong, too. I admit I'm still not comfortable with the "you have to love yourself" and "I deserve it" stuff. But I hope through this evolution, I'll come to embrace those ideas, too. Mostly, I just want to be strong, feel good, restore order and set my kiddos on a healthy path, feed Mike some healthy food and help him turn our messy little homestead into a darling little farm, and be healthy. Then, I'll figure out where to go next. (Oh, I'd like to look hot, too; you know, in that respectable-mother-of-four-mid-forties-but-dang-there's-something-simmering-there kind of way. That, too.)

I'm not interested in the before-and-after pictures variety of change here; it's more personal and important and holistic and spiritual and life-molding than a moment in time, "there, I've done it" kind of thing. I don't know how the journey is going to unfold, but I trust myself, and trust that I'm here for a reason, and I'm going to sort this out well and check every step against my strong spirit to make sure it's right, and I'll continue to be protected. Because I don't believe God brought me this far in such a broken state to leave me when I finally begin to unfurl. I think he likes me a lot and has been looking forward to this part, too, so I think he'll be with me. I think lots of smiling and the occasional fist pump will ensue, as well.

Alright, enough. Looking forward to getting on with it.

Love from the farm,
Teri

Hit The Deck

The "little kids" are in 7th, 8th and 9th grades this year. (Our "big kid" is now 21 and is still toiling away in South Africa, selflessly giving over two years of his young life to serve others. That kid. Love him.)

Wait, where was I? The little kids, that's right. (They are so called, by the way, because of the 6-, 7- and 9-year age gaps between Adam and the rest; it helped us to sort them into groups as they were growing up.)

So, the little kids are in their junior high and freshmen years and they're doing those typical junior high and freshman things: you know, having friend drama, changing classes, growing out of shoes at an exponential rate.

And, apparently, doing "hit the deck" drills.

Have you heard about these? These are safety drills practiced on school campuses, where a teacher or other adult blows a whistle in a predetermined pattern and all the kids everywhere milling about immediately drop to the floor or ground. Then, they Army crawl to the nearest building or classroom, from wherever they are. Why are kids everywhere doing these drills you ask? Well, in case a mad gunman is on campus taking pot shots at students and teachers, of course.

I was standing in my bedroom changing clothes this afternoon when Macy was telling her dad, Tanner and Karlie about today's drill. Her tone was nonchalant and a little annoyed, and Tanner and Karlie both chimed in about how they hated doing the drill and how stupid it was. But this was the first I'd heard of the drills and as soon as Macy began describing the mechanics, I immediately choked up. My eyes were swimming with those instant tears you get as a mom sometimes, and the thoughts jarred me, "Why? Why do we have to teach our children to drop to the ground to avoid a gunman? Why is this their reality? Why do they have to live with this kind of horrific vigilance?"

As I stood there clutching a shirt to my chest, I listened in again to the conversation going on in the next room, and I heard the tone of Macy's voice change and in her ornery, mischievous tone she said, "So, a bunch of us started acting like zombies; you know, snarling and making zombie noises while we crawled to the building." Laughter ensued.

Standing there, I was now troubled for a different reason -- were my kids too callous? Didn't they get that the reason they do this disturbing drill is because kids their age around the country have been in the horrific scenes that we've seen play out on our TVs and across our computer screens? Don't they understand this is nothing to laugh about and this is terrible?

My family had no idea the emotional drama playing out in my heart in the next room, and I'm glad I wasn't in the same room with them where I might have spoken up and shared all the jumbled thoughts barreling through me. Because it only took a moment for me to remember the times, as a little girl in Ohio, that in my 2nd grade class we would hear an alarm at the school and we would all immediately put our pencils down and crawl under our desks and cover our heads with our arms for a bomb drill. You know, a bomb drill - designed to protect us from an atomic bomb or any other bomb that evil people might drop on our heads.  Then there was the other alarm that would ring over the loud speaker that signalled a tornado drill and we would all fall into line and head down the hall to the boys' bathroom, where we would stand tightly packed together pretending we were waiting out a howling tornado.

And do you know what I remember about those drills? I remember peeking out from under my arms under my desk to see if my friend Jenny was peeking, too. Then I'd look to the right to see if Tom Heckman was peeking or whether his shoes were tied. His shoes were never tied. Now, the tornado drills, those were the best -- my friends and I loved them because WE GOT TO GO IN THE BOYS' BATHROOM! It was so cool -- we got to be in the boys' bathroom with the boys and WE DIDN'T GET IN TROUBLE!

I wasn't worried about mean men trying to kill us with a horrible bomb, whatever that was; I wasn't afraid the wicked tornado was going to rip our school apart. I was a little keyed up because these drills were a break in the routine, there was a little bit of adrenaline associated with them for some reason, and frankly, they were kind of exciting. I didn't know to be afraid; the grown ups were in charge, they were calm and I felt safe. As it should be.

Now, my kids aren't in 2nd grade, and they're fully aware of the mass shootings that have been going on. I'm reassured they don't take school or theater shootings lightly because I saw my girls crying when Tanner and his show choir performed a special tribute to the Newtown victims, and I heard them all talking at different times about how sad the situation was, and I've seen their troubled faces. I saw their alarm and worry when we learned that the daughter from a family we're friends with was supposed to go see that midnight showing of "Dark Knight" in that theater in Aurora, Colorado where she's going to college, but she decided early that evening to go to a different theater further away instead. But her friends who did go to the theater that night without her? Well, one of them was shot -- thankfully, she survived and recovered.

I know my kids did suffer and grieve for the terrified victims we've learned so much about in recent months, they worried -- if quietly -- about whether IT could ever happen here or to them, their hearts were confused and a little broken, and they lost a little bit more of their innocence and wonder.

It's real to them, they get it.

So, you know what?

I'm OK if today they can laugh at the prospect of turning "hit the deck" drills into their own stylized "Walking Dead" clips.  I'm glad that they don't get that sick clutch in their gut when they hear the whistle. I'm glad that it's just a pain-in-the-butt drill to them. Because the adults on campus can do the worrying for them. The adults can shudder as they try to suppress the images that immediately spring to mind of the little ones gunned down who could so easily have been students in their own charge. And our kids? They can be annoyed that the ground is cold or that the building is so far away; they can be zombies snarling at their squealing prey.

And I can choose not to require them to really think about what the drills mean and not implore them to understand how serious and important they are. I know at some level they know, and I don't want them to dwell in the sorrow of it. I know they suffer when these things happen in real life; I know they're not joking about mass shootings when they hit the deck. They're trying to push the reality of what they're simulating out of their minds, and that's what I want for them. I want them to push away that helpless sorrow and let the adults deal with the day-to-day of it.

Because they're my "little kids," and heaven knows they don't have many more years until they'll be the adults closing their eyes to shut out the images, or folding their arms across their stomachs as the fear and grief clutch their insides. For now, I'd rather they worried about being cold on the ground.

And, who knows, those zombie evasion and imitation skills just might come in handy some day.

Love from the farm,
Teri

I'm Going Home

I am going home and a really important work is about to begin within and around me.

I'm stopping work and committees and obligations outside of my home for a time, and I'm going to use my time to become well-and-truly healthy and STRONG.

I envision me out with my kids and Mike -- hiking atop the mesas and plateaus, with the horizons stretching forever, drinking in the clean air and sun. I see me digging in the earth of my garden again and preparing healthy, clean foods for us all. I envision breathing deep, enjoying the quiet as I'm industriously and mindfully working to care for myself, our family and home; I envision exploring and new adventures and the peace of knowing that I am engaged in the most important things.

I know that as I become well, I will know where I am to go next.

This time is a gift: I have the support of my husband even though losing a second income for a time will be a pinch; I have a sure knowledge -- a spiritual confirmation -- that this is the right thing, the ONLY right thing, for me to be doing right now, and nothing else I keep trying to do will work because only this is right for now. I am not afraid or worried about the choices I'm making, the job I'm giving up or what the future might hold if I take this break. I am refocusing my life and I am excited and serene and anticipating and grateful all at once.

My body will become healthy and strong and able to carry me from morning till night, able to take part in everything I want and need to do as a woman, a wife and a mother.

I know this will be a beautiful time and a lot of hard, rewarding work will be done, and I will see the blessing and the growth even in the moments that test and challenge me.  I will live with ever-present gratitude as I watch my life and that of my family transform into something healthier, stronger, more full of light and special moments and learning; something beautiful. New patterns will emerge that will bless our lives and prepare our children to embark on their own healthy lives.

And I will be well and strong and know myself. And when I am and when I do, I will carry all that goodness and health into the next phase of my life when I will be well and truly living every day.

I am coming home. I am freeing the strength that is already within me. I am claiming my worth and will seek my Heavenly Father's help in understanding what that worth is.

And I know already that I will always look back on this moment and say, "I already had a good and blessed life, but THAT was the moment when I began taking care of me and I really began to live, and everything changed."

Love from the farm,

Teri