Accidentally by Design

Not enough.

Tenderness.

Joy.

Rightness.

Tears wash away the stain of hurt, of failure.

Probably dripping hormones, but still.

Are the signs I see real or dream induced?

Or another reaction to the meds?

Am I strong enough?  Brave enough?

Woman enough?

To be really honest.

To move in grace.

To sit in silence.

To wait.

To take my hands off the wheel….

Since this diagnosis, I have been on a medicine that made me feel “three feet thick”.  Emerged, temporarily from the fog and realized what a freaking mess I have waiting for me on the other side.  And finally begun sorting out my emotions about finally knowing something.  But the something that I know is that I know almost nothing.  When I consult the literature, I find a range of points-of-view some dismal, some as skeptical as a doctor who thinks it’s not a condition.

So I went from being unable to write, to too busy to write, to too afraid to write.  Because once I wade out here, I almost always discover something about myself I didn’t know.

One of the books fell open.  The bold print on the page said, “Exercise will heal you.”  I’m not gonna lie.  There were an expletive.  My daughter laughed.

I’m also clearly going to have to avoid caffeine.

And there are dietary things to explore, too.

Because I want to enjoy life.

As opposed to what I have been doing for the last several years.

It’s so worth doing.

How do you motivate yourself to move a mountain with a spork?

There are a lot of things in life no one warns tells you about.

Like:

Unless you are getting wasted and laid a limo, the prom is just another dance and you spent waaay too much money.  Everyone just wants everyone else to be there, so no one sitting home watching Dallas and eating pizza with their alcoholic stepdad has a better time than they did.

Okay, maybe that was just me.

Marriage is mostly a work partnership rather than a never-ending, sexy, well-dressed, indoor picnic cooked by the chef you flew in on your private jet.

Labor is painful, but it’s a good pain, like running.  (Or that’s what I hear about running. And labor). Seemingly, no amount of prior experience is going to matter.

Your own children will be exceptionally naughty as those of the people you see in Target.  And for several years, though you neither drink nor smoke, you will crave a cigarette and think, “It’s Miller Time,” at the stroke of 4:45.  Every. Single. Day.

There is at least one more.

She’s going to have a crush.  Or.  Someone is going to have a crush on her.  She will be weird and you will say, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”  She’s not going to hear you.  Someone might get hurt.  Maybe her.  Maybe him.

You tried to tell her and she couldn’t hear you.  Now, you are going to have to hide your tears and remember to keep your mouth shut.

It’s the circle of life.

Life blows.

You’ve been warned.

There’s nothing wrong.

It’s tendonitis, arthritis, neuralgia, depression, anemia, hypochondria. PMS.

Take your vitamins, your ibuprofen, your time.

The first time someone said the word to me, they followed with, “Christian women are particularly likely to develop this because they think they have to act like they’ve got it all together. They don’t deal with their stress.”

I heard, “It’s all in your head.”

18 years ago.

Now, having been the reason for our wheel spinning for nearly 20 years, I’m torn between glad to see the face of the enemy I’ve shadow boxed all this time  and wrecked because the girls are nearly grown and so many opportunities have slipped through our fingers.

I mean seriously, how can someone possibly screw up the job of home maker?  What fun to be able to take your kids to the park or have friends over for play dates.  Careful planning can yield as much as another income would, because there’s no “cost of working” for the second spouse.

Please. I am functioning at capacity when I dress in the morning.

About one day a month, give or take, and not on any predictable basis;  I wake feeling almost like what I think maybe the rest of the world probably expects to feel like regularly.

Hand in hand with the doctor who said I didn’t deal with my stress and the one who just wanted me to take a drug no matter what it was for and get out of his hair– I thought I was weak, sinful, lazy, less than others.  I’m ashamed of how selfish I am because I don’t create a nicer life for my family…

I’VE WASTED ALL THIS TIME.

A couple of weeks ago, the pain was after me again.  I called the nurse.  She reminded me I’m supposed to be taking supplemental vitamin D and a major sign of deficiency is pain.  She was right, but in addition to that, I got a little focus and perspective. I realized that due to my denial, my inability or refusal to stand up to a physician and say, “I don’t deal with my stress because after I clear the kitchen counter tops, there’s nothing left for dealing with stress,”–I’ve handed those I claim to love the short end of a dirty stick.

I’ve worshipped at the altar of me– I’m fine, I should just work harder, I know better than this, I’m just a darn rebel and won’t do what I know Jesus wants me to.  Me, me,me,me,me…  That’s sin.  What about them?  Their life.  Their moments. Their potential.  Their opportunities slipping away while I refuse.

It was a split second’s insight and as quickly as it appeared, it was gone.

And now.  I need to make sure I don’t let the reason become an excuse.

Yesterday, the doctor said,”I have no doubt you have Fibromyalgia.”

No doubt.

At least now, we can do something about it.

The rest we can sort out as we go.

The only real problem is that even when I look at a symptom list and say, “Yeah.  That’s me.”

I can still see that though it’s practically everything; to everyone else, it looks a lot like nothing.

Because you know I’ve had a hard time naming posts.

Do you ever think you are going to write on a topic and you start it and write it and work it and edit it and after days or even weeks hate it?

Not me.

Here are a collection of thoughts on topics unworthy of an entire post on their own. At this blog.  Unless I change my mind.

1) I just about had it with One Direction at this point.  I predicted the thing would come unraveled as they hit critical mass in their space launch to worldwide fame and ridiculous fortune.  It’s already beginning.  To redeem themselves in my book, they could:

a) Make a video showing One Dee and the girl they are about to use, cleaning house and enrolling in college.  Give the fans a housecleaning fantasy and we’re even.

b) Cover ‘Come on Eileen’.  If they do this, and they can come live here when they run out of money and join the U.S.-Triple-A-Baseball-and-Second-Rate-Casino Circuit.  If they do windows.  Don’t tell me there’s anything they won’t do.

2) Why don’t people just do things right?  I’ll tell you why.  Because we have gone over to a morality that says, “You can’t prove I knew it was wrong.”  I blame Caillou.

3)  I am not in a bad mood.  Just because it is the end of the day and you are tired, doesn’t mean I’m upset.  Don’t talk to me like a problem customer.  Your obligation to give quality customer service does’nt  end when something needs to be done and you don’t want to do it.  I don’t become a nuisance when I have an actual need that falls within the description of the services your organization provides.

4)  Every kid who picks up a piece of sports equipment is not a prodigy.  Whatever happened to hoping your kids would be healthy, well-rounded adults and helping them try a lot of stuff and choose what they like best–for work and for fun.    Sports are for fun, fitness, learning to get along with others in competition and otherwise.  Sports are not an important career to keep our country going.  Why do we act like every single child has a serious chance to distinguish themselves by athletic scholarship or pro contract?  If this kid is meant to be a chairman of the Federal Reserve, why make him a semi-pro athlete?  Mickey blames soccer.

5) Every mark made with a crayon is not art.  Every wave of a scarf is not dance.  You know this is true, because every bite of food you eat is not gourmet.  Every pair of pants you wear is not couture.  Until someone has studied and “paid their dues”, they are presumptuous and destroying what they claim to love by declaring,”It is so, because I will it.” Expose your kids to great culture, and see what they enjoy.  Don’t lie to them.  It seems to make them think the world owes them a positive review on every move they make….  It’s possible to be positive and encouraging without being dishonest.

6)  Groceries cost too freaking much.

7)  I have not been in a Target this year.  We had more money in the bank at the end of the month. I know a rocket scientist.  Maybe I’ll ask him to come over and help us figure out what’s going on.

8) The girls were in a fantastic production on MLK weekend, celebrating the civil rights movement and our region. They also met some godly young women who are outstanding role models.

9)  You may have noticed my new header. (It is coral, not pink.  I’m talking to you. Emma)  Please meet Tiffany of Tiffany Kuehl Designs.  She is nice, hardworking and talented.  If you are in the market for a design, you may want to follow her on Facebook.  Thanks so much, Shannon from the fantastic blog, Sweet Stella‘s for recommending her.

10)  Last week, Accidentally by Design was selected for Parent Society’s Mom Blog Hot List.  It was probably one of the most personally significant things I’d written in months.  For it to be recognized is the most lavish blessing.

11) For the hat trick, I was at The Kitchen Witch, yesterday.  *this is where you, the crowd, go wild*  This means several of my blog resolutions are already fulfilled.

12)  I rearranged furniture in the house.  I had forgotten my secret identity as a “Power Rearranger”.  It’s good to be back.  My suit has shrunk.

13) I hate the Super Bowl.  I like the Star-Spangled Banner, football, snacks and funny commercials.  It’s the pressure to care and the bare breasts and erection guitars I object to.  (See #2).

14) I did choose the Ravens as my team, earlier in the season.  I realized they are close to home and the only professional sports team I know that is named for a literary character.  That’s just hot.

15) Downton Abbey is the best show ever.

What are you thinking this weekend?

A couple of weeks ago, The Kitchen Witch asked me what kind of cookies I was eating.  I distracted her with a one-liner and somehow never had to come right out and admit these cookies can be found between the bleach and the salami at Wal-Mart.

She’s a gracious and talented blogger and I was surprised when she invited me to guest post.  I’m over there today.  Please stop by.  Before someone figures out I’m trying to run with the big dogs and sends me back to the porch.

Is a devastatingly attractive thing.

Especially if you are living anywhere in the neighborhood of normal.

But what if you reside so far from normal that your kids have never even seen it in pictures,

And the road map you own is of no possible use anymore because it has changed so much since you were there last.

What if it’s only something you’ve heard about from others.

What if you are hearing it on TV from people who can’t manage their own.  Lives.

Is it white counters and spills only large enough to be covered by your hand.

Is it reeeeally 19% body fat and aftermarket glutes?

You know, we’ve been seeing that middle class family who can’t make ends meet in today’s economy for so long, that like childhood obesity and the war–they just aren’t news. (The war should be news.  No ones talking about it.)

Show me once, a happy family.  They get up.  Do their jobs.  Keep a budget. And accept responsibility when they don’t.  (Meaning that they don’t behave as if they’re entitled to luxuries and when they splurge on those things, they make the sacrifice in some other area.  Case closed.)

Show me once, a single gal who graduated college and is working a job and paying mom and dad rent (because that’s practical), driving her little sister to ballet; who’d like to be married, but not so much that she’d date just anyone.  And sometimes,  she’s simply lonely.  But she lives it because she’s doesn’t believe in kissing every toad til she finds a prince.

Show me a kid who doesn’t like school who doesn’t quit, but instead goes to work with the tools he has.  HANDS-ON.  And before he gets out of school is making a living.  That would be news indeed.

Show me another kid.  One who struggles.  That people have to go out of their way to love.  Because he’s a nuisance.  Oh yeah, they could get a hundred labels, but his parents choose to wrangle the wildcat to see if he’ll grow through it.  So far so good.  It would be easier if we had desperately hard work like the pioneers did just to survive, but they can see the light at the end.  Things are going okay.

Show me a single mom who raises her son alone.  Who raises her son to believe what she believes and stays steadfast and demonstrates higher moral character than most church’s leadership.

Show me a family who stays together.  It’s not pretty.  They don’t have a continuous upward mobility through all the years, but they are holding it together.  Figuring out their way.  It’s not going to look like the Cleavers, or the Bradfords, or the Huxtables, or the Ewings or the Kardashians.  It’s going to look like whoever they are.  Working regular jobs that keep the world turning.  Not worshipping or even aiming for fame and fortune.

That’s the news I want to see.  I think the stories are still out there. I dare “The News” to cover what’s newsworthy now.

People doing what they’re supposed to do and reaping what they sow.

A devastatingly attractive thing.

Dear Pinterest,

There comes a time in every young life when we have to face the cold hard fact that we cannot live off our family forever.  Yes, we must earn our keep.  Mom and Dad for example, may be happy to have us occupy our same room that they brought us home to from the hospital, but when we reach a certain age, it becomes, how do I say?  Entitled, Presumptuous, Neurotic, or just Lazy.

Similarly, a good employer may realize that employees must take a certain amount of time off.  They need caring for.  Personal leave, coffee breaks, and periodic parties are ways they show us they care.  Because they do.  But in return, they expect a certain amount of actual work.  Productivity.  Applied skills.

Which brings me to my point, Pinterest.  You’ve consumed resources long enough without giving back.  You are enjoyable to hang out with.  Good looking, Funny and smart.  But.

The time has come for you to “sing for your supper”.  As such, you will need to begin to show up.  With the beauty tips.

And the Fitness information.

And the blogging, homekeeping and organizational noise.

Yes, I believe you have all the information you need.  And clearly, you are good at what you do.

However, it has come to the attention of the administration that you are an under-utilized resource.  While reluctant to label you “all promise and no product”, it has become necessary to put you on notice that effective immediately, you will begin to serve management according to your job description as understood and implemented by management.  In colloquial terms, you have just become my…*ahem*… Administrative Assistant.

See you at 8.  Don’t be late.  I like my coffee black.