Like an onion

We all have layers like an onion.  And I kinda feel like God has been peeling off my layers of issues just like one peels off those outer layers of an onion to get to the good (and tear-making) parts of the onion.  I'm allowing myself to be healable.  It's hard, but so good.

Some of it has involved me taking steps back from relationships and people.  Reprioritizing.   Realizing that giving away myself to others doesn't mean I have to die in the process.   Making my kids a priority, shutting down my phone when I'm with them.  Even when this means I ignore messages.  Utilizing the "do not disturb" feature.  Unplugging more and plugging into my kids and my life. Not that I want to shut people out, but I need to focus in on my babies more.

Each day I've been making the conscious effort to set down the phone, to say no to the things that take away from my family - not to be confused with giving back as a family....that's another topic!  To utilize my spare time wisely - mid-day coffees (decaf of course!) with friends vs. late extravagant nights out that mean the babysitter puts the kids to bed.  Honing in on my job when I'm at work.  Honing in on my kids when I'm home.   

It's tough.  I love being social.  But I know that my focus in this season of life is my kids and their lives...not mine.  Being their parent.  Being their friend too. 

My oldest boy confided things in me this week, things I won't share, but things that made me so proud of him, and myself a little too as a mom. I'm so happy that him and I have the kind of relationship that he can't wait to talk to me about things that most kids might not want to share.  

And my baby this week? He told me that "when you're little and old mommy, and I'm big and strong, I'm gonna take care of you and be your mommy."

Sigh.....He may have the gender and aging facts confused, but his little heart just melts me.  

All that to say - I'm digging the things God is working in my heart.  Some of them have been hard.  But when I listen and obey I'm finding peace and it's beautiful.   

Settled

I've had one of those weeks.  Not a bad week.  Not a good week. Just kind of a in-the-middle week.  Maybe it was the caffeine withdrawals that made it this rather foggy and not very many ups and downs kind of way.  Or maybe it's just that life had been so bi-polar for me that an average week just kinda feels a little strange.  Normalcy? I don't know what that is.  

I do know something kinda profound though that I finally realized today as I was cleaning my house.

I'm settled.

This is a kinda of a female thing here so bear with me. 

When my ex and I bought our house in 2006 I made it a home.  I painted every wall, hung over 200 photos, made and bought curtains, garage-saled for furniture and it was just "us."  From the black and white canvases on the wall of the family, to the messiness of the office, to the damask curtains, in the living room, to the abundance of lemon decor that littered every spare inch of my ginormous kitchen.  It was home. 

When we finally got out of it, we stayed at a shelter for domestic violence victims. Of course that wasn't home for me.  Then we stayed with my family as I tried to get into a home.  We lived out of suitcases from August until the end of January, and when we finally unpacked in our new place I thought "maybe this is it."

But I never settled.

We stayed there for a year and a half.  When I moved in my next door neighbor was dealing (of course I never actually SAW this happen....but the never ending stream of Cadillacs through our driveways was a good indicator).  He left and two registered sex offenders joined the area.  Then two women with a steady stream of different men every night (no comment) moved into the two houses adjacent to mine.  Then I found out my ex was living in close proximity to me.  Then one of my neighbors informed me that he caught a man spying on me through my window.  And that was the last straw.  

So we moved.  And then moved again.

This place I'm in now, it's the third house I've lived in since my divorce started.  It's small.  It's secluded.  It's peaceful. It's affordable.

It's not quite as decorated as I want, but some photos are up, some curtains too.  I bought a (used) couch and a new rug, painted my garage sale coffee tables new colors and suddenly it feels like it's mine. 

My budget says I can stay here and afford it and actually live a little instead of just survive.

It feels peaceful.  We feel safe.  Lord willing no monsters will come and take this from us.  

I'm excited to see what God has for our future.  But for right now? This is a good place to be and I hope it lasts. 

For not leaving me alone.

Yesterday I had an appointment that filled me with dread.  I was anxious, stressed, and worried.  I sat in the waiting room, fidgeting and tapping my fingers. Checking Facebook.  Re-checking Facebook in case anything changed from 30 seconds earlier.  Wiggling.  Unable to sit still.  And finally I said screw it, and posted a status update that was just a little raw.  It was where I was at - scared, terrified, and watching an oncoming train directed straight at my kids and not having the power to stop it.

Then I put my phone on silent and the meeting started. 

I sat for an hour and a half re-living things that died four years ago.  Things I don't care much to talk about.  Abuse.  Betrayal.  Abandonment.  Pain.  Denial.  And grief that cut like a knife. 

That stuff could all just die as far as I'm concerned. 

My kids and I are safe, happy, settled, content.....moved on.  Why bring up old crap? 

"In Washington state parents rights trump kids rights.....even convicted sex offenders can still get visitation."

Oh.

That's why I'm here.  

So I'm doing everything I can to give my kids the best life I can right now.  Though it's far off in the distance there's a chance that this peaceful home and settled-ness we have in the moment may not last. 

I hope not.  I pray it never comes to that. 

But it may.  

When I left the meeting I looked at my phone.  Not one, not two, but dozens of messages, texts and Facebook comments had lit up my phone.  

"Praying!!!!" 

"Can I do anything" 

"What's going on?"

"God is with you!"

"Psalm 91."

and many more.....thank you.  

Thank you all for being my friends.  For believing in me.  For praying for me. For defending me. For those many mornings spent in courtrooms holding my hand.  And those many hours listening to my exasperated venting.  For the unpublished editorials that were written and sent in defending me and my babies. For reminding me that God is bigger than money.  For the times I've gone to pay bills and discovered someone somewhere paid a bill for me.  For the times food has been provided when I had none.  For the surprise birthday parties.  For the help with my nemesis - the laundry.   For the men in my life that give my boys a Godly example of a man.  For the women that try and guide me towards being a more Godly mother.  For the many girls nights full of laughter.  For all the inside jokes we share.  For the dinners that make my life so much more simple.  For all of the hugs. For the cleaning and organizing.   For the times you've all helped me relocate.  For the coffees.  For the late-night movies.  For the help with childcare.  For the hand-me-down cloths.  For the hand-me-down furniture.  For asking.  For caring.  For never letting me forget that I'm not alone in this fight.  

Despite this battle.  Despite this journey. I am abundantly blessed to have you all in my life. 

Thank you.  

Lent.

I clocked in this morning at work and sat down at my desk. My computer seemed to take forever to boot up and while I sat there waiting to get started on an exciting day of making posters I browsed through Facebook and saw Ann Voskamps post today on lent. As I read through it I felt moved. Of course who doesn't feel moved when reading through Ann's writing? Lent is something that I've never observed. I guess I always viewed it as a Catholic thing and never really took the time to understand it. Fasting? That comes up frequently. Though I will say, I am not good at it. I've tried and failed many times. But I know the benefits. There was one time I did a rather imperfect 40 day no-dairy fast. It was SO hard to stick to. When I started it I was fasting for my marriage and by the end of it I had completely surrendered it all to God. Instead of God fixing my marriage God worked on me and somehow managed to root out crap in me that I didn't even know was there. It was a beautiful, hard, heart-wrenching, heart-breaking and amazing experience. And oh the way I devoured that Pepper Jack cheese and that cows milk latte when I was done? Sweet bliss! Until I threw it up and realized that dairy has to be re-introduced SLOWLY to one's system. Lesson learned. This post from Ann got me thinking though. Tomorrow is Ash Wednesday and I feel like God has me at this turning point in my life. I'm not sure what it looks like or what will happen. But for the very first time I've decided to observe Lent because I want to know. From my experience with fasting I know that God can use the fasting of things in life to reveal to us our great inadequacies and our need of a Savior. He can also use it to root out sin and bring healing. I mulled over her post throughout the day. I read it again when I got home and thought some more on it. Yes I know that this doesn't change how God views me. My works don't get me to heaven. My success or failure on this does not define who I am in Him. But it does convict and make me aware of my inadequacies and deep need for His power in my life. Knowing God and God's grace is what I am after. Knowing my Savior in a deeper way? I can't go wrong with that. Like she said - “Don’t think of lent as about working your way to salvation. Think of it as working out your salvation.” No coffee. No fast food. Please forgive my sleepiness and potential grumpiness thanks to the epic headaches I will be facing over the next week.

(And just because he is cute and adorable and I don't have a good lent related photo, here is my baby about to pray over his grilled cheese sandwich after he obviously already took a bite out of it).

Moving on

Last year my good friend Tyler shared a sermon with me from Elevation Church called "The Horn, The Sword and The Robe."  It was probably one of the best sermons I've heard in my life.  It was applicable to everything I was going through at that time and it actually moved me to tears at the end.   

I shared a quote from it on Facebook back in January when I re-listened to it again.....

"Moving on doesn't mean you stop caring, it just means you can't change it. Moving on doesn't mean you stop hurting, It doesn't mean you stop wishing it could have been different, It just means you can't change the circumstance. You lift what's left of your life to God and say I'm empty, I'm disappointed in that, or I blew it, or they hurt me, I'm hurting but here's my heart. I'm hurting but there's still a joy." - Steven Furtik 

Moving on seems like such an easy thing for some people, and I'll admit there is a part of me that is a little jealous of the people that can just up and get over tragedy and heartbreak.  

I'm not one of those people.

I struggle with moving on.  I struggle with forgiveness.  I struggle with letting go.  I struggle with anger.  Not anger, like the "blow up and throw things" anger, but the kind of anger that gets suppressed and ends up haunting me in violent nightmares.  It's not fun.  

I pray about it often.  I also wonder why God wired me this way - this way where I feel so much for people that I just ache.  

I was watching the show Dexter last night (I'm only about 12 episodes in) at the point I'm at in the show he is a sociopath with no feelings.  He just pretends to feel.  I'm found myself wishing I could shut off the feelings, shut off the rawness of life and just be more logical and methodical like him (minus the serial killer thing).

Yes I realize that Dexter is that way because he saw his mom get chopped up with a chainsaw when he was 3.  So maybe I don't REALLY want to be like that.  

But being able to look at a situation with logic, and choose wisely would be nice.  So would being able to just shut the door on someone or something that's causing pain to my soul.   

When I heard that quote I shared above? It resonated with me.  It made me realize how "okay" it is that I am this way.  That feeling for people and situations, feeling heartache and loss, crying over tragedy?  That this pain I'm feeling? I can ignore it.  I can stuff it.   I can pretend it's not there. Or I can lift it up to God, give Him my rawness, my ache, my tears and see what He does with it. 

He is the master of turning ashes into beauty and I hope so very much that he can paint some sort of beautiful picture out of this heartache that I feel.  

Netflix, Bad Boys, and Co-Dependency

Being a single mom I frequently find myself alone in my living room with nothing to do past 8 pm.  If the house is clean and I have no laundry to fold my choices are kinda limited.  Read a book.  Do some sort of project.  Or watch Netflix.  I usually end up doing two of those things simultaneously.

I've watched a lot of Netflix.

My friend Beth and I were chatting the other day about our love of the show Gossip Girl.  Shut up.  Don't hate.   And sigh......Chuck Bass.  We love him.  Is there any man in any series that is more vile yet lovable than him?!  

I actually sat and pondered that rather stupid question for a minute.

Vile yet lovable men?

Sawyer from Lost.

Don Draper from Mad Men

Alex Karev from Greys Anatomy

Christian Troy from Nip/Tuck

Dexter 

Barney Stinson from HIMYM  (yes I know he's gay in real life, but c'mon?)

And let's not forget the classics - Indiana Jones and Hans Solo.  (Harrison Ford had that bad boy thing down!)

I realize that I can keep going here and the longer I go the more pathetic I look.  I've watched all of those except Dexter from start to finish. Every season.  Every episode. The sheer amount of wasted hours here is saddening, as is the fact that I enjoyed finding the images for this post.  What a dweeb....

But my point. 

We love our bad boys.  And that is proving to be a problem for me in life and here's why:

The things I'm attracted to and the things I glorify in fantasy will be the things I desire in real life.  There is real psychology behind this I promise. 

I am almost always attracted to the man with a bad side.  Not an evil side.  Not the addicts or the convicts.  Just the one with a bit of an "edge."

Cue the puddle of tears where I find out I'm being cheated on and the relationship ends.

Guy cheats, our relationship ends.  The story of my life in one sentence.  (Except for my relationship with Tyler).

So what is it about the bad boys?  Why are they so frequently the center of our media?  Why do we love them so?  Like Indy. It's a new woman in every movie, yet he is the hero of the series and we love him.   And Barney?  Disgusting man-whoreishness right there, and while we all love Ted, let's just admit here that HIMYM would not survive without Barney Stinson and his playbook.   

I haven't figured out the psychology behind it.  Despite trying to google it. (Yes I really did).  I just know that for me, what I find attractive in a man has to change. I know I'm not alone here, the state of our media is proof - we like our men with a little bit of bad.

Maybe it's because we are fed on romantic comedies and action flicks that we fail to see the beauty in the boring men around us.

I've thought often of that scene from Anne of Green Gables where Anne and her adoptive mom Marilla are discussing men - 
Anne: Fred is.....extremely good.
Marilla:  That is exactly what he should be!  Would you want to marry a wicked man?
Anne: Well, I wouldn't marry anyone who was really wicked, but I think I'd like it if he could be wicked and wouldn't.
Marilla: You'll have better sense someday, I hope. 

I hope I have better sense someday too. 

Yes I'm still "paused" on my dating life.   

When I get back into this whole dating thing I want to be looking for the right things.  You know things like "He's an amazing dad."  "He loves Jesus a whole lot"  "He wants a family"  those sort of wholesome things that should already be the things that I want in a guy.   I mean I always have wanted those, yet somehow I end up with something not even close to that.   I want to figure out what it is that draws me to the wrong ones and what keeps me in that spot.  I have a feeling I may be co-dependent and that concerns me.  The need to be needed or need to "fix" people is just unhealthy.  

My ex-husband told me when our relationship ended that he hated that I was "good." He hated that he felt like a bad person around me. He hated that I prayed for him. He hated that I loved God.  He hated that he felt like he had to change.

When I talked to a counselor about it she asked me if I was always trying to help him or fix him. 

Well yeah.  Why wouldn't you try and help someone that is drowning?

"Maybe you should look for someone that isn't drowning."

I can't think of a better plan for my future than that right there.   That and perhaps loving and accepting a person where they are at and not trying to change them.  I can only imagine how annoying my attempts at trying to fix someone were.  Only God can fix a man, not I.  

Fitness stuff.

So I'm just going to say a few things that I've learned in the last year of working out on a (mostly) consistent basis.

I have a love/hate relationship with cardio.

I fell in love with running a year ago.   I had ran before but never with a plan and a goal.  It was just something I did because I was a girl and we're supposed to do steady state cardio. (I'm saying that with a lot of sarcasm). Last year I set some fitness goals and running was included in them and so I did it.  I didn't expect to fall in love with running but I did.  Running has become my anxiety release.  Time for me to think.  Time for me to talk with God.  And that place that oddly enough brings me some spiritual peace.   I can't count the number of rough days I've had since then that have totally been made more peaceful by a 4 mile run.

Running is something I will keep doing because of the peace and the endurance I get from it.

That said.  My fitness goals?  When I quit doing other workouts and switched to JUST running I lost some of the results that I had gained in the winter/spring of last year.  Especially in my abs and arms. Then fall season hit with it's 12 hour days and Olive Garden breadsticks and I lost all the tone and regained all the fat from last year. 

In November I decided to join a new gym.  My YMCA membership had been expired for over a year and so I'd just been running and doing home workouts since then.

I quickly remembered how much I loved the weight room.  

I started reading and learning more about fitness when I rejoined the gym and found a lot of conflicting info.  

"Women should focus on fat-burning cardio"

"High-reps/low weights"

"You don't want to bulk up like a man so be careful not to lift too heavy."

Most of it was stuff I'd been hearing my whole life.

But then I started finding info on lifting for women, and not just the low weight/high rep stuff I'd always heard about.  But actual heavy lifting.  After a little bit of study I started throwing some heavy lifting into my routines. I'm already noticing a huge difference and the results have been much faster than I expected.  

I've finally gotten over my fear of the squat rack and my legs and butt are thanking me for it.  

So cardio/running? I love you because you are peaceful and you burn some fat too.  But I hate you because you really don't give me the results I want and you hurt my knees.  

But weight-lifting? You're quick and hard and get me where I want to be fast.  I think you're my new fitness BFF.

When it comes down to it - muscle burns more calories than fat does when you are in a resting state.  Now I'm not one to obsess about calories but I love good food and hate having a muffin top. Having more muscle is win/win.

So we'll see what happens over the next few months. I don't want to look like a body-builder.  But that said?  I can see my obliques again, my triceps are peeking through and I like it. Lifting my coffin bag at work has gotten a lot easier.  (It's called a coffin because it looks like one and weighs about as much as one.  Ha).  And I'm noticing that I'm not struggling with carrying all my heavy gear across school campuses like I used to.  Heavy lifting may stay awhile.  

(Post-workout sweaty selfie.)