Living Outside the Chaos

I’m really quite good at managing chaos. I’ve had lots of practice, and have become a warrior of survival. I’m proud of this, and have learned not to fear much as the confidence in my ability to weather massive storms keeps me in peace.
But.

I’m not good at managing the manageable.

I’ve written about my oldest son and his battle with mental illness. He’s 15 now, and the ebb and flow of his sickness has lasted for more than 13 of those years. I have 3 other children, all younger than him. We have lived in the shadow of his illness for the entirety of their lives. 

Things are better now. While we still have situations that knock the wind out of me (as recently as earlier this week), the violent chaos that was normal in our home for more than a decade has waned. With his maturity has come some ability to push back against coping skills of aggression and destruction. I’ve come to a place of trusting my ability to parent him well, and rather than lean into the storm and exacerbate it with my own fear and anger, I’ve learned to utilize authority and boundaries in a healthier way. The last nine months has been the longest peaceful stretch of my parenting career. Even during this most recent drama, there has been no violence or aggression. 

Yet, I’m struggling.

I’ve been dating a man for the last two years who has seen the dynamics of my family, who has seen the shocking aggression that can pour out of my beautiful first born, who has seen the fear in the faces of my other three, the sometimes unhealthy attachment that has been forged between me and my kids, and who has seen me cry and work and do everything I can to help my family. He’s bided his time, and occasionally he’s spoken up- asking questions and exposing what I already know: I am not good at managing the manageable. Over the last year there have been conversations that he’s initiated that have left me angry, sullen and sobbing. (Never his intention, and always a direct result of the wounds it picks at.) They say that the truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.
Last night was the second time we had a conversation where the things coming from his mouth seemed to be directly from the heart of God- piercing my soul, shredding my heart in the knowing, and rendering me silent as I knew it was sacred. My flesh wanted to rise up and scream in defense, but my soul knew it was everything I needed to face; and I was grateful to have someone willing to face it with me in love. Beauty doesn’t equal pain-free. Love doesn’t mean avoiding hard places. I ached. I sobbed. I heaved with grief and fear and disappointment.

The difficulty now is that while living in a constant state of chaos, I have never learned how to live in the normal. I did everything around the house while trying to keep my kids safe. I never had breathing space to teach them simple chores or provide a structured schedule. And now, I’m exhausted. My children rely on me to do everything. They don’t pick up after themselves, or only do so with my prodding and their attitudes. There isn’t much structure, and what is there, revolves entirely around me. It’s not healthy for any of us, and it’s not feasible for me to keep this up. But the reality is this: I have no idea how to do it. I didn’t start small, with toddlers who were pulling chairs up to the sink beside me to learn how to do dishes. I didn’t have homework time at the kitchen table in the evenings because many evenings were spent fighting darkness and aggression, and sending children into my room to stay out of the path of their brother. I don’t have a family-known set of rules, expectations and consequences because my oldest (who, by default, sets the example for the others) is not motivated by either reward or consequence. Parenting him has been a continual shifting of what might work for this day, this situation, this mood. It’s left the others wondering what the constants are… and, to my grief, they come up empty.

I look at our dynamics, the lack of maturity and skill in my children, and I feel despair. JJ spoke these things- things I’ve already known- things I would rather run from- and called me to action. Part of me wanted to launch myself across the table to shove him to the floor, and part of me wanted to run away and leave the work to someone else, and part of me was broken… but part of me was grateful. His delivery was kind and raw. He reminded me of my strength and ability and asked why I didn’t infuse this situation with those characteristics. I dropped my head into my hands and sobbed. I could barely speak and he had to ask me to repeat myself several times. I don’t know how to fix it. I know the way things are right now is not good for anyone. I know that you telling me I work too hard at home doing things the kids should be doing is true- but I’m telling you I’m afraid, lost, and honestly, I am not sure I believe in myself as much as you do.

I have allowed things spoken to me when I was younger to take deep root and affect my ability to parent the children God gave to me- with my personality, skill set, strength and energy. I can tell you that logically, I know I have been paired with these children for a reason. That they have things to teach me, and I them, but the strangling vines grown from words once thrown into my soul have siphoned off the nutrients meant for healthy growth. I hear Failure. Flaky. Impulsive. Flighty. Unable to finish anything. Easily Bored. Lazy.

My love language is words of affirmation, and I haven’t loved myself well as I’ve given head space to words of destruction instead.
 

So next week, I return to counseling. I’ve given years to stabilize my son, while waiting for the right time to seek stabilization for myself. I can no longer delay that process. His well being and the well being of the others depends on my health. I can see where the cracks are and need help processing the junk that is preventing me from doing what needs to be done. I need someone to help me pull out the vines and learn how to live in the space between chaotic events.
I’m nervous at the level of emotional energy this will take, but I’m ready to move into it and out of it in order to live well the life I’ve been given.

This Little Light of Mine, I'm Gonna Let it Shine

In the two-plus years since my ex-husband left, I have been through a myriad of lessons, layers of healing, moments of panic and, seasons of hopelessness.  I have felt most every emotion I can think of and some I have no descriptive words for.  I've screamed and cursed at God, and wept into my pillow at the overwhelming realization that my dream had crumbled.
As I pressed through the painful places, I began to rise into new areas of brokenness in me that needed attention.  I had lived inside of an unhealthy marriage for fourteen years, and somewhere in that relationship I laid down who I was and walked away from her.  I worked hard, in the sick, codependent way that we sometimes do, to ensure everyone around me was ok.  I scanned faces and body language, held my breath to listen for subtle vocal nuances, and then would adjust myself accordingly so those around me would be ok. I was dying for everyone around me to be ok. But I have realized that I was never ok.

The earlier years of raising my children were filled with chaos and fear.  My oldest son was aggressive and unpredictable and I lived in a precarious place of fight or flight for multiple years.  I was hyper aware of his moods, and worked hard to try and make him ok.  As more years passed, and more children joined our brood; resentment, irritability, and frustration became my go-to emotions, and as guilty as I felt living in that skin, there was nothing lasting I could do to soften those edges and give me the deep exhale that my entire being was screaming for.  I was suffocating under the dirt that had been piled on top of my heart in a powerful effort to snuff out the light I had been given to share.

This year, as I've moved past the hurt of losing my marriage, and walked away from that initial wounding, I've headed into the deep work of finding my voice, looking for who I am, who I want to be, and learning to love her.

I am rediscovering things I enjoy, and finding that I can be a lot of fun. I have intense emotions both high and low and feel everything deeply.  I like to laugh, and be silly, but I enjoy nothing more than deep conversations that fly down low into depths of struggle and flit back high into laughter together.  My friends and family have been heroes in my personal revolution as I scrape harshly with my words and moods while I learn to uncover the authentic self.   I am learning how to say no to people, how to stand up for my opinions at the risk of rejection by others but incredible peace with myself.  I'm finding out how to look people in the eyes and tell them I disagree while lacing it with all of the love and grace I can muster.  I am discovering that my voice matters, and that the things I feel and love to do are worthy simply because they live inside of the woman I have been created to be.  I am embracing my oddities and finding joy in activities that others might find worthless.  I sing and dance around my kitchen, make silly jokes with my kids and have relearned that I am not quiet or calm.  The energy and passion I worked so hard to cover up for so many years is spilling out into my life again and I'm finding the light in my children's faces as they see my heart thawing and shining.
I have made mistakes and thrown heavy burdens on friends and family as I learn boundaries and relational honesty, but when I see the scrapes I've caused, I go back to acknowledge them.  I am so very flawed and yet so very beautifully made, and even in those places I hope to grow and change, I am finding I enjoy my own company.  I never dreamed I would be one of the statistical women who would lose herself inside of a relationship, but I did.  I consider it an incredible gift to get the chance to learn who I am and to get to learn to love myself away from the toxic confines of that place.  I'm finally growing up and into who I was made to be, and learning that I have a path created just for me and all I can give.

In Two Years

Today is the 2 year anniversary? non-aversary? (What do you call this anyhow?!) of when my ex husband left.
Two years ago today, I sat in stunned shock as my life was dismantled by the rush of words that poured out of his mouth and coated the bubble of ideals and expectations I had submerged myself in.  Two years ago today I became a statistic, and a shattered shell of a woman in ways I still struggle to comprehend. And two years later, as I look into the mirror, I wonder at the grief, hurt, and pain I've endured and marvel that I'm still here.

I read a quote this morning by Elizabeth McCracken that says:

“Grief lasts longer than sympathy, which is one of the tragedies of the grieving.”

Those words sat at the top of my heart and then sunk down deep; in that knowing way you experience when life has proven words to be truth.  Two years is a long time when asking friends and family to help shoulder pain.  But two years is a breath in the length of a lifetime, and some days I feel that I am at the starting gate when it comes to healing.  In so many ways I've come through this grief in leaps and bounds, shedding so much heavy weight of hurt, and delighting in the freedom that comes from the discovery of the pure strength of the soul.  In other ways, I find myself banging up against the anger phase… again.  And being frustrated with myself for being angry… again… just in a different flavor this time. 

Experiencing the death of a marriage messes with you in every way. It picks at your self worth, it can obliterate your finances, it bruises the hearts of your children in ways that take the breath right out of your lungs. I'm weary in ways I never dreamed I could be, and have worked harder than I've ever worked before.  

In so very many ways, I am proud of myself.  I have walked in integrity, and I haven't taken the easy way out.  I've protected myself against running into a relationship with another man, and I've lived for my children in a sacrificial way that has surprised me at its intensity.  So many places in this journey have shown me just how strong I am, and in other places, I'm having to really see the entitlement and expectation I had for a life that would be protected from divorce. As though somehow I was more deserving of a good marriage and a life kept from pain than others were. As though my choices could somehow manifest a life devoid of surprises and shock.

Like many college girls I suppose, I dreamed of a wedding, marriage, mothering, and home-owning in a less dream-like state and a more 'this is what you deserve' way.  

I went to college and got a degree, dated only my husband all the way through, and got married three months after graduation.  I thought I was making good choices, and in those good choices, I thought I was ensured an upward trajectory on the american dream graph. I expected to start with little, and thought that my homemaking attempts in our one bedroom apartment and then a trailer on a marine corps base would be the lowest I would ever sink. My attempts at thrifty shopping, and coupon cutting seemed quaint and part of the 'building a life together' script I believed we were both reading from.  No where in my 'surprise chapters of life' story did I ever think I would be barely scraping by, headed into my 40s alone, as a single mother with no solid home.  I assumed I would be signing papers for my first home, settling into his military retirement, and carpooling kids to sporting events.  The stark and painful reality his choices have forced upon me and the children has been incredibly eyeopening in ways I wish I could have ignored. 

It has been a gut wrenching revelation to realize that I have believed my choices and actions in my life would bring me only good and only prosperity.  While I do believe that choices are important, I am learning very painfully, that while on this earth, surrounded by other broken people, we often will suffer; not just because of our choices, but because others can make choices too.  I am angry, and I am broken, and I am, quite literally for now: poor.  I have every right to rant and rave, and fight and scream and flail and cry and fizzle out into a broken mess… and yet none of those things will pull me from the life I'm living into the one I want for my family.  It is a daily, and often hourly choice to let go of what I thought I deserved and learn to look for the beauty in what is.  It is a humbling experience to live in a measure of poverty, and yet still somehow be protected from falling by a God who sees me and sends provision just when I think there will never be enough.  My compassion for those who've lived lives harder than me, those who live lives fluffier than me but with no sense of self, those whose trappings of money prevent security in God, and in family, and in the love of real, trustworthy friends.  I'm discovering treasures in the dark, and also uncovering places where my pride and entitlement and attitude are festering.  It's a toggling back and forth between heavy, visceral gratitude, and the temper tantrum of a 3 year old screaming 'it's not fair!' 

I'm trying to be gentle with myself.  I know anger is part of the grieving process, and in many ways, it's part of the process I've largely skipped over.  I was so busy taking care of my children and trying to stand up, that the anger hung out in the bottom of my heart, and has just begun to rise to the top in the urgent need to be skimmed off.  Glennon from the Momastery blog, said last winter that sometimes we need to stop making excuses for being human… and I'm working on that.  I know it's ok to be mad, and sad, and disappointed, but I fight back against the dark shadows that try to whisper to me that it will be this way forever, and I will be broke, unloved, and in survival mode until they lay me to rest.  Walking through pain and choosing not to avoid it is a continual act of faith… trusting in what is unseen… believing that there is more to life than this… but while I work towards the 'something more' I can still find life, beauty, and passion here… in what seems like the "not enough."  The education I'm getting has been invaluable, and yet I have days where I want to rush it along, and get to the other side, where every day doesn't feel like such a struggle.  I'm in the in-between.  The place in life where there are no good answers or fluffy bows to tie off my experience for you.  My hope is that as you read here, and walk through this with me, that one day….. when I emerge from the dust, with hands open wide, heart whole and full, and knowing that all of this is enough, you will be able to celebrate with me, and tuck away some of my lessons in your back pocket.. for when your life shakes and jolts and you need to be reminded that you're not alone. 

Painful Lesson Learned

The saga with my face, and jaw, and mouth continues.  I wasn't getting any better with the steroids my doctor prescribed, and as I sat in a long business meeting last week, one of the women noticed I was struggling. I gave her the brief explanation of what was happening and she gasped with recognition.  She had experienced the same pain last year and wound up with broken teeth- she suggested I see my dentist.
When I woke up the next morning with yet another debilitating headache and horrendous pain in my face, I called my beloved dentist.  She was able to see me before the weekend.  She took x-rays and examined my mouth closely and then told me she had bad news:
I needed a root canal and had an abscess.  As she looked back and forth between my face and the black and white outline of the inside of my head she shook her head.  'Heather, having an abscess is horrible pain.  Living with chronic pain like this, even just for a couple of weeks, can cause depression and really mess you up!'
I began to cry. Her affirmation of my pain and the struggle it was beginning to create for me emotionally was comforting.  I had felt dismissed by my doctor and had left his office in horrendous pain but yet feeling like a baby.  She concluded that I needed antibiotics and pain medication.  My next stop would be to see the endodontist to retreat the tooth that is so horribly infected.

Once I began to think of the problem as dental instead of purely stress related, I had prepared myself for her news of a needed root canal. I had been told more than 8 years ago when I was pregnant with my third child that that tooth needed to be retreated.  It was a tooth that had already been treated through a root canal, and it had been crowned. I chose to wait for treatment.  I wasn't in any pain at the time, I was pregnant with my third child, still nursing my second child, and didn't want to take the time, spend the money, or have to worry about healing.  I put it off. Life kept happening and I never quite got to it.  In the years since, I've had dentists tell me it needed to be done- my current dentist has told me within the last five years that I need to do it, but I didn't want to spend the money, and I wasn't in pain, and so I never made time.
Putting it off brought me to today.  I am paying for my procrastination with copious amounts of pain, and now a hefty sum of money.

I went through the weekend but by Sunday, the pain hadn't lessened by much and I was starting to swell.  I called my dentist who told me that none of that was normal and I needed to head in to the ER.  In the ER, I was given more pain medication to prepare myself for the doctor to slice open the huge pocket of infection that was now bulging into my mouth and drain it.  She told me the relief would be great, but the actual draining was, in her words, 'going to be awful'.  I got through the lancing of the gums, and my friend drove me home to rest.  I now await my appointment to be evaluated by the endodontist on Friday and then the root canal through the crown sometime next week.  The receptionist called me earlier this week to let me know that my insurance won't cover one cent of the procedure.
Putting it off has cost me dearly in so many ways.
I could take time to write here about how putting off self care is never a good idea, and can wind up costing you more than just a bit of inconvenience.  However, I'm sure you get my point.  I'm learning more and more as I move through life as a single mother just how important it is to make time to take care of me.  I don't have much time or money to do much, but I'm learning that the better I feel, the stronger I am- in every way, from physical to emotional… the better mother I can be.
One of my dearest friends has two busy teenage daughters but she works intentionally to take good care of herself- she's aware that her girls are watching, and they will absorb far more by watching than by hearing.  She looks wonderful and creates time each day to care for herself. She nourishes her body and her heart and sees the incredible value in it.  She's a giving, generous, loving, happy, and beautiful woman.  The time she makes to care for herself spills over into others as she's better able to love well and give wholeheartedly.

I'm still learning. It's so easy for women to nurture others often at the expense of ourselves, but in doing that we deplete ourselves of the pure, and strong care we could be offering.  I have far to go, but I don't want to relearn this lesson in another hard, expensive way.  I get the message and will be more proactive in the future.