It's been a long time since I've wrote on my blog but have been so busy with life I haven't made myself be dedicated to site down and use this resource to help me vent and over come some of the things I've gone through since the last posting.
I'm still a very lucky mother to three children, Dominic (now 6), John Paul (now 4) and wee Princess Shiloh (now 2) who keep me very busy. I've taken on the scary massive task of homeschooling my eldest son and as of the end of this year, John Paul will join the ranks. There are certainly days when I'm tempted to put them both in public school and say, "To hell with the home school frustrations". But as someone who came out of the sludge that is the public school system, I think I'd like to keep my kids from being exposed to inappropriate content. On top of that, you never know when some disrespectful kid will come to school with a gun to "take down" the bullies. It's just not safe. Heck, I fear for the teachers themselves and the innocent children who are exposed to all that junk.
In November 2011, our family was walking down the road and three out of four of us avoided getting hit but John Paul was the one who ended up being fully ran over by an SUV. God was so merciful to watch out for my John Paul. In fact, if it wasn't for him falling just before the SUV ran over him, he would be most likely dead now. God has preserved this child's life, my other children and my life as well. In the blink of an eye he could have allowed almost an entire family to perish but didn't. Dominic and Shiloh sustained minor injuries to their knee's from falling but John sustained injuries from his back down to his knee's. What a strong kid he is! He's had numerous visits to our Pedatricians (Progessive Pediatrics), Urologist (Dr. Mark Barazza), Chiropractor (Dr. Alan Nathans) and a Pediatric Orthopedic Physician (Dr. Eric Shirley). He still has scar tissue on his back and left thigh but hopefully being a male means that he won't grow up and be vain about it. Here's hoping that he won't anyway.
Not too long after that Chris had to get an appendectomy because of some malfunctioning plumbing (teehee). It wasn't a long recovery but it was really a struggle for me because only month's prior my kids and self came very close to death. It certainly added onto the stress and inflamed my PTSD.
We then had a check up on Shiloh's heart to see if the patch had continued to hold and see how the valve was doing. We were given good news that in fact the patch was fine but that the valve still had a minimal leak and would need a follow-up in 2 more years. So, yay that she's good for now but the future is still so uncertain. Add another nail in my stress coffin because I know that 2 years down the road it could be a very real problem that we will have to face.
So, then not long after that I have a freakin' seizure. We had the ambulance take me to the E.R. at Baptist Downtown and discharge me within about 30 minutes. I was diagnosed with something called a "Pseudo Seizure". What the heck is that you wonder? It's a fake seizure that's real. Yeah, I didn't come up with the science nor the name. Supposedly, if you don't deal with your anxiety and get help, it will apparently manifest into a type of seizure. I was sent home with anti-nausea pills and instructions to see a therapist.
So, after a few more minor health sputters I get around to investigating PTSD. Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. It's a mouthful, right? So, as if having ADD and OCD weren't bad, I get to add in a huge cupful of PTSD to my mental health repertoire. At that point, I'm just to the point of not caring if God takes me. Depression hits pretty hard and I'm to the point where I've already accepted the very real possibility that I'm gonna be a prescription druggie for the rest of my life. Why? Because people who have PTSD are told that they need strong drugs that they will most likely never come off of. The medical community is so darn POSITIVE and HAPPY! Never say never!
After doing some intense research (i.e. google - gotta love 'em!), I come upon numerous sites that seem to connect military and PTSD. Well, I'm not military, so they couldn't possibly be useful to me right? Wrong! I'm the kid of two ex-Army soldiers, so I know the lifestyle and mentality pretty freakin' well. The booze, women, drugs, sex, and porn addiction. Did I mention the booze and drugs? Okay! Well, I peruse a few websites and find commentary between soldiers. "I'd rather go have a few beers with men who have gone through what I've been through. Not sit in some office and talk some college kid whose knowledge comes from a book, not life experience. " That's me! Okay, that's me minus the nasty beer part. Foul yeasty smelling liquid. Yargh! But a light bulb came on and I realized that I didn't have the personality to do therapy. Ignore the fact that you have to pay about $50/$100 an hr just to yammer on about your malfunctioning mental health. Screw that! I had to find some alternative so that I could find a way to keep off the drugs while still functioning around the house. I got three kids to take care of so I can't pop some pill that might slow me down.
While I was shopping around for an alternative solution to PTSD, I came about the term "Horticulture Therapy". Oh, Lord, not another therapy to try and subdue us mentally damaged people. But the horticulture part intrigued me and after quite a bit of reading I decided that it must have merit if soldiers with PTSD are healing. The reality is that they are far worse off than I am. These guys go through hell and come out with both physical and mental scars that most doctor's don't really know how to handle. They've seen their brother's die right next to them and wonder why their brother died but they lived. It's really not fair for them to go through those kind of thoughts. I wish I could scoop them up like little kids and just hug each one, because it must be so hard for them. On top of that, many end up coming back to no girlfriend, lost friendships, and so much less than before they left. I might not be in the military but I'd buy those guys a beer any day, just so they knew there was someone out there that gave a damn.
I decided that if I couldn't afford to go to school and take classes on horticulture therapy, there had to be a way to emulate it. Usually, soldiers going through horticulture therapy have to physically be at a center for a period of time as they heal. I've got three kids, laundry to do, dishes to wash, a husband to be intimate with and other numerous crap loads of stuff going on. See? I can't just abandon all my responsibilities because of some malfunctioning circuit in my brain. So, I decided to take it in small steps and try a small bit of gardening. Now, the only gardening experience I have is from my parents making me walk through rows of squash and okra to harvest the veggies. Have you ever walked through rows of squash and okra? No? Let me enlighten you! It itches and hurts like crazy. No human in their right mind of child age wants to wear long sleeved shirts and pants in 90+ degree heat. Any bare skin that the spines on squash and okra touch, immediately itch for a good few hours. Yeah, learn from my experience and harvest the veggies yourself. Don't send a kid to do it! It's inhumane treatment, I tell you.
Oh yeah! I almost forgot! John Paul got a subpoena. We got to the court house to find out that it was in fact a big mistake on the part of whoever sends these things out. Because we all know a four year old is capable of understanding law. Yeah, so after going through a search of my bags, x-rayed, 2 bailiffs, and 1 police officer I'm asked if I'd like to stay and speak on John's behalf. Yeah, I want to speak on his behalf. I got a few colorful words I'd like to say to the man. But see, you can't cuss in court (that's a no-no) and I had an observant four year old child sitting at a table nearby as I spoke. So, I refrained from cussing the guy out for all he's worth and stuck to the plan of being calm and honest. I honestly wanted to find the nearest police baton and beat the living crap out of the guy until he apologized to John and our family for what he did. Okay, so I mentally envisioned beating the crap out of him while managing to "maintain". When you have children, you have to squash some desires of violence towards others while showing them what it means to be a God-fearing, law abiding parent. When the driver of the SUV got his chance to speak, I thought for sure he would apologize and admit he was speeding and in the wrong. Nope. In fact, he took the opportunity to lie to the judge and say that I was wearing black and that John Paul was in the road. His mother spoke up and said that she had never seen us walking my kids around the block before and that it was dark at night. I respectfully raised my hand, informed the judge that John was struck at approximately 6:23 and it was still very light out and that I was not wearing black. That it was only dark once the ambulance had drove away and the police filled out the report. They argued with the judge that they shouldn't have to pay the $250 because I had just received $50k in a settlement. I was so pleased with the judge because he pointed out that (A) the $50K had no matter in this particular case, (B) he wasn't giving him the maximum fine and (C) he could take the driver's course online at a library. Despite the attempts by the man to play the judge, he was officially sentenced a $250 fine and to do driver's ed. His mother and him, were so pissed off at us that not only one cop stood near us, but a bailiff and another police officer. When everything was over, one of the officer's pulled us to the side due to concern that him or his mom would try to harm us or start a fight. The whole event shook me and added to my growing stresses.
So, back to me becoming a gardener. Who would have thought I'd be willing to go through such vegetable trauma all over again? I can testify that within the first week, I felt different. A strange kind of different. I noticed that whereas in years prior I would have these merit-less fears of going places. I would sabotage any confidence before even getting close to the places where we normally went. Yet, one week after my gardening started I noticed that I would shove those thoughts away. "We can handle this. Let's do it!" Is that scientific evidence? Heck, no! But I've not sat in a chair blubbering about my past to some inexperienced college grad, nor am I on any psychedelic drugs. So, what other element could possibly have influenced this change? I'm truly convinced that it was gardening. At the time, I had even gone off every supplement except my normal chew-able vitamins.
I've found that I seem to be more at ease when actually doing the physical work involved in planting versus the up keep (i.e. watering and weeding). Something about the physical and mental focus needed to garden seems to bring healing. It really feels like I've thirsted for so long, searched out a source of refreshment and have fully come to a place where my thirst is quenched. God is moving in a way I can't explain.
Now about maybe three or four month's ago I decided to take time away from church. Okay, I decided to stop attending until I could get to a place where I could handle being around others who lived their lives as if nothing ever went wrong. Who knows, maybe they just shrugged their shoulders, plastered on a big smile and kept repeating that God was in control. Yeah, that doesn't work for me. I struggle and I'm hoping that I'm not the only one that struggles. I'm not perfect and only Christ is perfect.
As an example, I still struggle with my bisexual or same-sex tendencies. There's just the very real reality that sex with a female is different then it is with a guy. I don't know how to put it in words, it just is. If I could try to define the difference, I would say with females it's more about comfort and feeling safe whereas with males they are more sexually aggressive and dominant. Heck, the truth is that words just can't describe the difference. I wish I could just come up with some great definition but I can't. I will say that being molested by a female at the tender age of 6, then sexually assaulted at about 9-10 by a grown male and then sexually assaulted again by a male at age 17, has left it's awful mark on me. I have come to recognize that I have no love feelings towards female's but I'd rather use them and lose them for my own pleasure. I vaguely recall my male cousins and Uncle's having that attitude towards women. That sex was their intended purpose, as well as child bearing and getting their man a sammich and beer. Dignity and respect are what men expect for themselves but not their female companion. If you doubt that belief, just notice the surplus of porn sites, videos, movies, stores and of course, the all mighty strip club. It's a good thing that God tells us we are cherished for more than our sexual parts because males tend to not say that, nor manifest that belief in their daily life.
One of my biggest temptations happened a few years back when an acquaintance of mine cheated on her husband with a female. At the time, her husband said it wasn't as big of a deal because it was a female and not a male. Two other male's agreed as well. In my little head I started to ponder the reality that if I returned to sex with women then it would be okay. Maybe I could get away with sex just once more with a female, because males viewed it as not really that bad. If they only knew what temptations their earthly views caused. I really had set about the idea that if I had the opportunity to do it just once more, I might go for it. I'm glad that I ignored their earthly thinking and focused on God's view point. Proverbs 26:11 says, "As a dog returns to its vomit, so a fool repeats his folly." Have you ever tasted vomit? Of course you have, most people have up-chucked at least once in his/her life. Remember that disgusting, retched, acidic taste? I was tempted for a small period to return to a life that I now equate to that. God prevented me from returning to that even though people around me claimed that it wasn't "as bad as". I'm still not free from my temptations and still occasionally give into them mentally. But I always return to God knowing that his love isn't based on how good or bad I am but how good he is. How powerful Christ death and resurrection was.
Well, here's hoping that I become diligent in my blogging. I know I'm not the only person out there with a multitude of crap going on inside them so maybe something I blog will help them as I'm healing.
