TW (Trigger Warning)

The night after surgery was a rough. I was in a lot of pain but of course the morning came. I was still in a lot of pain but able to get up, eat, and Lavender had opened the windows so it was bright and cheery. I was feeling better. The miracle of science and the human body… I mean less than 24 hours earlier I was cut open and an organ was removed and here I was feeling better.

Then I got a delivery, an Edible Arrangement and a get well soon balloon. The card was signed “Mom ‘C’.” It took me awhile to figure out that it was from my step-mom. At first I was like whatever and ate a piece of the fruit.

In the last 17 years I have had less than ten phone conversations with my step-mom and my father. When people ask why I don’t talk to my father I say something like “I got pregnant at seventeen and kicked out of my house.” That usually is enough information to get people to move on to the next subject. It’s not a lie just not the truth to that question.

See the truth is 17 years ago my father and his family were living overseas. He had flown to the states on business and decided to stop by and visit me. We were catching up in his hotel. I was telling him all about his granddaughter. He was filling me in on my brothers and sisters. Fast forward thirty minutes to him on top of me, I said, “Please don’t do this daddy.” Up until that point, even with all that went wrong between us in the past and the fact that I was 20, I still considered myself a daddy’s girl. But when the pain became too much in my soul and body as he forced himself onto me, I willingly took him in my mouth.

When I talked to my step mom on the phone in the coming weeks she first told me that she heard I had gotten fat and then informed me that she knew what happened. My father had told her that stuff had gotten out of hand. She said something about how bad he felt and that I should call him. I hung up the phone, shocked.  And so began 17 years of minimal contact.

The day that I got the delivery from my step-mom, I drifted in and out of medicated consciousness. The pain grew worse. My thoughts were getting uglier. My dreams were haunted and I felt like I couldn’t move. I felt miserable. By night time I had a slight fever and started dry heaving and then throwing up. Seventeen years later and I still could taste him in my mouth. Recovery from surgery didn’t go as planned.

I want to wrap this up with a nice neat little bow and talk about surviving and managing and things getting better but it might always be a mess. I might have to live with triggers and the pain of that night forever. I might always feel like white trash. I might always mourn the loss of that family. I might always replay the details in my head. I might always have dark and twisted thoughts. I might always be afraid of him. It might not ever get easier.

I keep getting up and I keep going on.

The "Get Well" balloon fixed up with a pair scissors, canvas, and oil paint.

Time for Change

After a discussion about urban violence, race, gangs, and poverty my seventh graders were directed to write about what we just discussed. They had very little instruction except to write. Please read some excerpts from different student’s writings.  

“The question is why? Why, such tragedy? Each and every day bullets are taking our young people out of the land of the living. The tragedy is over ridiculous things such as money, drugs, arguments, fights, power, revenge, and gangs.”

“Young people are getting into gangs for different reasons. They do it for protection from other gangs, to keep from being bullied, and for respect. Some people are just born into it like from generation to generation. Like a boy I knew. His dad, uncle sister, mother, and cousins are all in the same gang. He sold drugs shot people and even killed. He represented is gang to the fullest. One day he yelled at a group of guys and they killed him.”

“I shouldn’t be saying this but my family is in a gang.  I was born into it. I don’t tag or put anything up because I’m not ranked like my dad. I hate to be looked at like I am a low life. I have big dreams and smart stuff. But, being what I am in there is no way out. But I am going to be an intelligent and smart member, I don’t steal and kill.”

“My older brother joined a gang because his friends talked him into it. One day my baby brother was outside with my older brother when a different gang came by and shot three bullets.  They killed my baby brother. Young people don’t want to be in a gang but sometimes they have no choice. “

If they mentioned names of people or gangs, I left them out to protect the students who wrote these but otherwise this is the words of OUR children. These students are amazing and have the ability to change the world for the better. WE must figure out how to give them the tools to succeed.  WE must stop thinking that gang violence is not our problem. The time for change is NOW.

Pineapple Ginger Crisp-You have to try this!

Lavender and I decided to start this year off with a 30 day healthy eating plan. We are eating mostly whole foods, no white sugar, no artificial sweeteners, and no alcohol. We are also starting yoga on Monday! It’s our plan so if we decide to eat that piece of chocolate or taste that adult beverage there’s no shame. The 30 days is what we make of it. What surprises me are the unsupportive people.  I have people putting cookies in my face trying to get me to eat one. This is one of those no big deal things in my life but it takes me back to two very big deals that involved unsupportive people.

The first is when I went to college. More than one person told me I was being selfish and not thinking of my child. I was also told I would fail. They said there was no way I would be able to go to school full time, raise my child, and work full time. I did. I raised a beautiful child and we both graduated with honors. It would have been nice if I didn’t have to second guess myself along the journey… if I didn’t have to wonder if me having goals and doing what needed to be done to achieve them were selfish.

The second was after I ran my first 5k. This guy that I knew congratulated me. I said thank you and then told him my plan to run the Chicago Marathon the next year. He actually laughed in my face and then while still laughing told me that I was getting a little ahead of myself. I was embarrassed. Honestly though, when I crossed the marathon finish line I didn’t think about him.

Why do we do crush people? Why do put tear each other down? If someone tells you a dream or hope, just try not to take it away from them. Try just asking “is there anything I can do to help?”

Back to this 30 day challenge, we are in week one and the payoff for me has been my new food invention. Pineapple Ginger Crisp, it’s so good.

Ingredients
1 fresh pineapple peeled and chopped
2 inches of fresh ginger, grated
1cup oatmeal
½ cup pineapple juice
1 very ripe banana
1tblsp coconut oil

Cook ginger with coconut oil on low heat for about 5 minutes, add pineapple to the pan and cook for another minute. In a bowl mix oatmeal, pineapple juice, and banana. In an ungreased pan add the pineapple mixture and top it with the oatmeal mixture. Bake at 350 for about 40 minutes.

My Shameful Secret

                I have a secret. It’s something I find hard to talk about. It’s the shame that I feel that keeps me from talking about it. My wife is bipolar and suffers from clinical depression. That is not a secret. If you have a question about that, my wife will welcome them and engage you in an open and honest conversation for what that means and has meant in her life. The secret is that I refuse to talk about it.

                I don’t talk about because I am ashamed of the way feel about it.

                I feel selfish. I have read books on how to cope when you have a loved one that is depressed. They say things like make sure you are taking care of yourself. No one tells you how to not yell and take out your anger on your depressed loved one. They don’t tell you how lonely it feels. They don’t tell you how to get over that selfish feeling of wanting to make this about you and scream, “I know you’re depressed but what about me!”

                I think the bigger issue is how afraid it makes me. It scares me. I’m scared because I don’t know how to handle it. I’m scared because it is full of what ifs. I’m scared because I can’t stand the thought of losing Lavender to this disease.  I’m scared because I don’t know how to say the right things. I’m scared.

                The truth is in the past 4 ½ years it hasn’t been a big issue. Lavender is doing well. She has great self-awareness. She takes time for her emotional health. At this time, she doesn’t require medication. Then why you ask do I refuse to talk about it. Well, the moments, the very brief moments this disease has shown itself in our relationship, I did a horrible job of handling it. I was selfish and scared.  I said the wrong things and acted the wrong way. If I can’t handle these brief moments, how can I ever handle a full blown major depressive period? How can support the person I love during this? How will I be able to sit in the darkness with her? This is what scares me.

                When Lavender tries to talk about it or someone else mentions it, I shut down. I know this hurts her. I know she wishes I was able to have an open and honest conversation with her. I know she is patiently waiting. I’m getting there. I need to let go of the shame and talk about how it makes me feel.

What Version of the Truth Do You Want?

I haven’t blogged in a while because I can’t decide what version of the truth I want to say.

I have slowed down on running and it makes me feel terrible inside and out but I have been running ten mile distances almost every week and that makes me feel great.

I have gained 5 pounds and that makes me feel like a loser but I am not training (yet) for a marathon so thinking I could maintain a 0 pound weight gain doesn’t even make sense.

I am happy that my daughter is doing so well at college but when I hear talking about moving out of our home for good, it makes me sad.

I am grateful that my mom came to see me and even more grateful that she said she would probably never come see me again.

I love my job and where I work. I hate that if the wrong person/people find out I am gay I could get fired.

I need to start looking for a new a job but I don’t want to.

I hate living in chaos but have never known anything else so all this stability in our house is great and making me miserable.

My life is amazing and I can’t fully enjoy it because I can’t stop thinking about all the things that might happen to mess it up.

The truth I know for sure I am surrounded by great people full of love.

Running Has Taught Me, I Decide What I Can Do!

I am running the Hot Chocolate 15k tomorrow! I am excited. It is my first time running this race. Let me tell you why.

Two years ago around this time I wanted to run the Hot Chocolate 15k. People told me not to do it. They told me I couldn’t do it. In their defense, I was overweight and I had only been running for two months. I listened to them and didn’t sign up.

The week of the Hot Chocolate I felt really bad about myself. I hated my body. I hated the way I looked. I hated that I was 35 and in school. I hated that I listened to someone else tell me what I could do!

So, I did what any sane person would do.  I got off the couch, put on my running shoes and ran ten miles. When I was done my body hurt in ways I didn’t know were possible. I had blisters on the bottoms of my feet. The inside of my thighs where rubbed raw.  My arms felt like they might break off. I felt like I was going to throw up.  I will never forget that run. It was one of the best feelings I have ever had in my life. I claimed my power that day. I decided what I could do and I did it!

Perspective and Teaching

I went to a beer festival a couple of weeks ago and someone was handing out cheap gloves. Me, being the school teacher, asked for a few pairs to add to my lame bag of prizes for students. I actually call it my "lame bag prizes."  It has free things that I collect and then give away for birthdays, games, and good behavior. Students truly seem to enjoy getting to pick something from my “lame bag of prizes.” They also seem to enjoy the name.

Anyway back to the gloves. I was holding a study group for a math test the next day. I really wanted the students to do well so I offered incentives like pop and chips to come to my study group. I was secretly patting myself on the back when 22 out of 44 students showed up. I mean that is an awesome turn out. I had been working hard for the past three weeks to get them motivated to learn associative, commutative, and distributive properties. They were also learning scientific notation, rounding, and place value. I was pleased with the growth that I was sure they would show.

Back to the gloves. It was the end of the study session. I offered the best behaved and hardest working students a pick at the lame bag of prizes. One of my students looked at me at said, “really we can take these gloves.” I assured him that yes the gloves were fair game. He said, “I’m taking the gloves then. Winter is coming and my hands were cold last year.”

The powers that be are appalled that my 8th grade students don’t know their multiplication facts. Lesson in perspective - 8th grade students who don’t know their multiplication facts are more concerned with keeping their hands warm, taking care of their siblings, and finding food than multiplication facts.