Listening v listening, not being strong, and more

I'm starting to feel like we are settling into our new normal.  Realizing that my thoughts and plans for summer are gone and replaced by scheduling around chemo and the week after when Neil feels the worst.  Being able to plan and schedule things out a few months are gone and replaced with things like "chemo if his ANC and other lab work is acceptable"  I have lots of stickers for my planner that are now replaced with washi tape and a sharpie pen because they are removable/repositionable.  Heavy yard work is tabled for now, replaced by watering and mowing--weeds the same height are better than dirt, right?

I'm not comfortable here, and I'd leave it in a heartbeat if I could.  I can't.  I'd have a garden, hopefully a few trees I was babying and trying to get some lawn going.  I'd be working the beginning of one week and the end of the next and planning fun stuff in the middle.  Tweaking my camping totes to take weekend trips far enough up the mountain to be cool.  I'd be picking up extra shifts at work to help cover our being short staffed and complaining when we were busy and I craved a break.

None of that is happening.

I have learned a few important things though.  Nice quotes with a pretty picture in the background don't fix anything.  Some of them are entirely annoying.  With all respect to Walt Whitman, this one is the top of my frustration list.

My facing the sunshine doesn't have a beautiful ocean view, meadows, rainbows or anything.  My facing the sun leaves me looking like this.  You can keep your meme thank you very much.

I've learned a lot about listening.  How to listen and how not to listen.  I've talked and written about listening before, but I feel like it's been written on my heart now.  I had a friend stop everything she was doing on a busy day and say "Heather, I want you to know I've thought about you every day--can I ask how things are going?" and then she just listened.  In the hour before I'd been asked probably 10 times in various ways by people who really care but I was exhausted explaining and I totally suck at "things are just fine" type lies.  Sharing wasn't tiring when someone was Listening instead of just hearing the words coming out of my mouth.

Hugs are okay.  Hugs can say more than words sometimes.  I've had hugs at work when there hasn't been much time in passing a patient off to a higher level of care or when I'm trying to get from point a to point b quickly.  No time for words, but those hugs spoke volumes of care and support.  

It's okay to not be okay, to not be strong, to breakdown in tears, to not always look at the bright side (see the sunburn above)  Pancreatic cancer sucks.  It's heartbreaking to watch Neil be so tired and sick from chemo and there is nothing wrong with acknowledging that and spending some time validating how much things suck right now.  I choose to not live in that place, I get up and go about what needs to be done but I can't pretend everything is "just f.i.n.e" and paint a smile on my face and even if I could I don't want to.  Sometimes I cry myself to sleep, sometimes I lay awake all night praying to wake up from this nightmare, sometimes I pull the curtains so the room is dark and I sleep too long and it's all okay.  Some days I even leave the dishes in the sink and stuff on the counter or have hot tamales and a Dr Pepper for dinner because I don't want to cook.

Letting people help me has been hard.  Every time someone does something my head screams "No! you don't need them to do that for you--you'll find the time somewhere" but I've started letting people help and my heart grows each time.  Another hard to learn lesson from this is that I'm not in charge.  I don't know what our life will be like this fall, next summer, next week.  I've worked hard to feel organized and like I have it all together and now I realize it was all an illusion.  I like to plan, my book of life (otherwise known as a Mormon Mom Planner) goes with me everywhere and if it's not written down it doesn't get done.  All of that control is gone and it's been hard, I don't like the chaotic unknown.

I've also learned I'm not the only one going through hard things.  I've had a couple of people talking about their hard things apologize because their hard things have an element of good in them.  Hard things are just hard.  There is no grand scale of hard things or rules about you can only complain to people who have smaller hard things than you.  I'm glad to listen to other people, to talk about normal things because no matter how certain I initially was that my world was coming to a screeching halt, life goes on.  Weather gets unbearably hot, people take vacations, buy new cars, or struggle with more "normal" things than cancer and I haven't stopped wanting to be a part of people's lives.  I want to hear the sad, happy and in between.

I have more to say and I know this post has been all over the place, but that's okay too.

Bye for now,

Heather

Happy Mother's Day

It's never what I expect, and today is no exception.  I miss 2nd ward traditions, I wanted to see our little Primary singing, etc.  Our new ward is starting to feel less strange, but I still miss our old ward.  It's apparently about a 4 year long recovery time and we are 4 weeks in.  I'll make it.

They did something today that I liked and have been thinking about all week, trying to gather my thoughts.  Sharing our favorite hymn with a short why.  Like many of my other favorites, context matters but all week I've been thinking of "A Child's Prayer"

Rules were simple, a 1 minute "why" and from the hymn book.  I had managed to write down a why that was condensed and photocopied the song from the Children's Song Book.  Both rules circumvented, but it was very busy and I still feel a bit guarded {unless I'm spilling all of my inner thoughts on here} so I didn't get a chance to share, hence being here.  The song is above, with scenes from Cokeville Miracle {great movie by the way} Here is my "why"

Spring of 2013 I was dealing with The Very Hardest of Hard Things and was very traumatized.  Up didn't seem like up and for a week or so I was surprised each morning when the sun came up.  I had no grasp on reality, but I knew that Christ knew me personally and believe that his heart ached with mine.  I'd had a priesthood blessing from my Bishop and I know he cared, but I felt very alone and very scared.  My prayers had very few words, lots of sobs and tears filled with emotions that there aren't words in the English language to describe.  I'm not certain how that week ever ended, but it did as the Hard Things continued to pour forth.  I acutely felt the lack of priesthood guidance in my home, as well as a partner or helpmate to get me through.

A few weeks after that very first night was General Conference.  I remember so many details of that conference, the feeling of the blanket on my lap, my snacks, the smell of breakfast, my little TV with crappy signal, the pajamas I was wearing.  Boyd K Packer gave his talk These Things I Know and in that talk are two great truths I needed to understand.

I have come to know that faith is a real power, not just an expression of belief. There are few things more powerful than the faithful prayers of a righteous mother.

Up until then I'd thought of faith as a feeling or emotion, not a power in itself and I discredited the power behind my wordless prayers that went straight from my heart towards heaven bypassing my mouth entirely. I knew God didn't answer my prayers how I had planned but I believed that yes, he does answer every child's prayer.  I don't remember anything else that conference, just that I was going to be okay.  I was fine on my own {fine is a relative term} and that my faith had power behind it, not just warm feel goods.  We were going to get through

Things are different now, We are dealing with Hard Things 3: Cancer, Again. instead of  Hard Things 2:  The Very Hardest of Hard Things  The kids are older (easier and harder all at the same time) and I'm not alone (but at times I still feel very lonely and afraid) and in some ways they are the same.  That first week feels like an alternative reality, and I'm not certain how it ended.  I'm not sure what I'm suppose to learn this time, but I'd like to learn it so we can move on to a chapter I'd like to call After Hard Things Life is Grand but I don't know that my life gets that chapter, so I'm working on finding grand things in the midst of Hard Things.  Life feels very uncertain for me right now, but I know Christ understands me, and he knows what it's like when I'm paralyzed with fear and uncertainty.  God does answer every child's prayer, and not just all those other prayers but my prayers too.  I believe in the power of believing.  What I wish I knew is where all of that is going to leave me, but for tonight I pray in sobs of uncertainty and fear knowing that there is power in that prayer.

I think I can, I think I can...oh wait I guess I can't.

I'm sitting here staring at the screening knowing that several times over the last few days I've thought "that would be good to blog about" and now I'm just here blinking and hoping there aren't weeping angels nearby.

Another week behind me, softball is in full swing, and we now have more warm days than cold {today was cold though} with time continuing to tick by moment by moment.  I've spent too many of those moments spinning my wheels in  the mud going nowhere and accomplishing nothing -- except splattering mud here there and everywhere.

I was challenged/reminded today of the value of making a list of the things you can do something about and a list of the things you can't.  The can't list is really long and infinitely more frustrating and scary than it has ever been.  I can't do anything about it though because I can't turn back time, I can't change other people, I can't arrange for other people to -- well, for them to do anything or not do things I don't want.  I just don't get to be in charge of others -- I can't change the fact that the sky is blue instead of purple or that my flowers don't bloom in the winter.  All of that just is.  Some of it I'm okay with {really I like the sky being blue} and some of it I'm not okay with {oh if I could be in charge of other people...}

There are things I can do something about.  I can make sure my kids are told as often as possible that I love them, then follow my words with my actions.  I can show them that we aren't as alone as it sometimes feels because we have so many people who love and care about us, probably more than I'm even aware.  I can teach them that when things are tough thinking of someone else can bring a sense of peace and calm for a moment {wait, they're the ones who keep reminding me of that through their actions}  I can make my home a place of peace, love, and safety {yes, I realize that means starting with some major cleaning as soon as I'm done on here} I can do more than talk about my values and beliefs, I can live them even when no one is watching.  I can take full advantage of May and plant flowers in my yard.  I can ask "why?" more often and take the time to listen.

It's taken me several hours to come up with anything for my can list because I was fully entrenched in my can't list.  I'm not to the point of accepting the things I can't change because some of them I will never be accepting of no matter the situation.  Ever.

Clarification, rambling, and an update of sorts

Someone needs to take away my ability to write a blog post from my phone while tired.   Even typing >70 wpm my thoughts sometimes run faster than my fingers, pecking out a post on my phone does not do any kind of service to me getting across how I am feeling.

There are a few things that I can say with strong certainty right now.  Friends, family and neighbors care about me and my family and I have several people that if needed I could {and have} called before and after acceptable calling hours for something.  I am very grateful not even daily but hourly for them.

I don't know if the last little bit I've hit a social "how are you doing?" but if I have I haven't noticed.  I have noticed a lot of sincere faces with listening ears {I know, I'm not talking to kids here but it still applies} that have asked "how are you doing?"  often in those conversations include a just as sincere "let me know if there is anything I can do for you"  I know people care.  I know there are friends that know that the answer is going to be "not okay" if a bunch of new flowers show up in my yard.

I've had amazing help the last several years, from a well timed "want to go get a coke?" to muscle strength helping me move things I can't move alone or helping me get rid of the infernal rose thicket.  Twice.  Wait, this year makes three.  A few Christmas's ago before Gromps' funeral my answer when asked what can we do for you was "I don't even know"  Maybe I didn't know, but they did -- and they acted above and beyond anything I could imagine.

That doesn't include the plethora of people who worry about the kids when I'm at work and are willing to give them rides here there and everywhere, including keeping them in line when needed and having them help out on their farm.  I don't know what but I don't doubt that there is a lot more that I could fit into this section.

I know people care, retaught so much when asked at one of the late night calls "what's going on" and my answer was "I can't say right now"  What was happening was definitely secondary to how I was doing.  That few minutes taught me more than I realized -- I hope that farther down the road I can think back and get more out of that experience, and perhaps be that person for someone else.

What I wondered was does how really matter.  As long as the list of stuff gets done, why does the how matter when it comes down to it.

I don't know the answer, but I'm past wondering now -- filing it away into a file of things I wish I never was in a place to feel.  It's turning into a pretty big file.

For everyone wondering how, I'm managing to get up each morning {or equivalent for whatever my shift is} and brushing my teeth.  My sarcasm is coming back at times and I'm playing softball this year on city league. I can even smile a little at the comparison of being told "we just need another girl on the roster" to being picked last for kickball in elementary school.  I still got picked, and I'm hoping softball proves to be a good outlet for me right now.  I do think I'm going to have more color in my front yard this year than I ever have before.

This is what got me out of bed this morning when I nearly turned off the alarm and hid under the covers.

Silent echoes

The house is empty tonight, just me and the dogs and quiet is echoing from the corners of the house the way sadness can echo through your body.  The quiet is deafening.

My mind rewinds time like an old VCR whining and clunky, stopping at all the worst scenes that I wish were edited out and it feels like I am in a time machine.  March seems like eons past while in the same instant only a breath ago.  The juxtaposition of time sends me spinning in a circle, praying to stop when there is a clear, broad view of the strength of the mountains, solace of a winding stream and peace of a still lake.

A long prayerful walk slows, but does not stop, this infernal time warp as I see glimpses of friendly faces, trustworthy friends and beautiful spring flowers.  A deep breath smells of daffodils, warm cookies, and a welcome hug.  

The walk isn't long enough, being leashed to the chaos, not allowed to wander too far and I fight hopelessly against the spinning and resign to the dizziness, at least for now. The house is still silent with emptiness everywhere.  With each breath I can hear whispers of hope shared over the weekend, too soft to understand their magnitude. 

***Thanks for humoring my attempt at getting how I feel out, and no I wasn't trying for any great literary works I just needed to share.  ~Heather***

It's walking weather again

Sometimes I sit here or on my bed with my journal and pens wishing that what I'm feeling could skip past my mind and end up on paper.  Today is one of those days.  Somewhere inside of me there is a lesson I need to remember, or one I am suppose to share but I don't know what it is and it's largely trapped inside making my heart ache and everything I say just feels like a huge whine that no one wants to listen to.

I've been on 3 walks today, typically about the point I get tired my mind stops racing and I come home feeling a little better, even if it's just temporarily.  Today was different.  I'm exhausted and my leg is throbbing and my mind is still making a continuous list of all the ways I will never be enough anything.  I'm coming to the conclusion that if there is something I am excited about or looking forward to I don't dare get excited -- it hurts less if you didn't count on something exciting before it all goes awry.

I have tomorrow night off and *whispers* no kids. Also, no plans.  It's my birthday weekend and I'm quickly realizing that while I want it to be fun and happy it really is just a painful reminder of the past.  I refuse to sit at home alone tomorrow, but I don't know what I'll do.  My favorite dinner place is actually a lunch place, I have no idea what is in the theaters and trying to plan something is just another thing to add onto my list.  I'm not even going to mention the stress Sunday night is causing.

On my walk I went up 150 W, where I use to walk every time because that's how far the walky talky would reach.  I passed houses of people who have made a huge impact on my life and who I am that I haven't talked with in forever.  If it hadn't been dinner time I may have stopped to visit but I don't think I could put words to "how are you" so I kept walking.  I snaked through the blocks looking for the house on one of the streets between the elementary school and high school that is always full of daffodils long before my bloom -- I couldn't find it.

I did find noises of spring though, kids were in a backyard laughing and having fun and the sound of a skateboard was soft in the background from the park at the school and someone had meat on the grill that smelled wonderful. I tried to smile inside at the sound and smells of my favorite time of year and I couldn't.

By this time I was hoping I wouldn't run into anyone and just let the flood of emotions run.  Feelings of inadequacy and frustration, trying to accept how everything was hitting all at once without sending myself spinning off.  The setting sun and evening chill biting at my cheeks had me turn towards home.

I hope today is an anomaly and that my walks are as therapeutic as they use to be, I think of all the frustrations I've left alone my route and hope that I've picked up -- it is still is there isn't it?  

I don't get a break, do I?

I'm thinking one of my categories up top should be "life is hard"  I find that my life can easily become a series of waiting for the next step because certainly at the next step there will be a break.  Time to catch my breath, a period of time when perhaps things are easy.  That's the way it's suppose work -- on my timeline.

I don't see a break coming.  Milestones have passed that I've anxiously awaited because after X then Y.  I really, really think Y would be great but X has come and gone with no sight of Y in sight.  Apparently life isn't quite like an algebra equation or the alphabet.  It's not a long straight highway either, my road is mostly dirt and rocks with what might be two tire tracks surrounded by some beautiful scenery.

In the past when I've struggled with something there comes a point where I stop and think "what am I suppose to learn?"  Sometimes it's been a person that our personalities clash and they just grate on that very last nerve even when they aren't around but when I stop and let go of the power I'm giving them over my life and look at what they can teach me or add into my life the irritation and struggle fall away into remember when land.

I don't know what I'm suppose to be learning right now or if there is even anything but I wish whatever it is would fall away into "remember when"  Looking back I can see that times of struggle have been when I've grown stronger it's just hard to see when you are in the middle of struggling with an unknown and it never eases up to give some recuperation time.

I do know, with all of my everything, that things are better now than they use to be.  I am stronger now than I use to be.  I believe more in me than I use to.  I hope I have the strength and endurance to follow this through to the end -- not knowing what the end will be but certain that after the end something else will come along that I wasn't expecting to challenge me in different ways.  I wish that somewhere along this journey I find someone to travel it with me.  Much like filling a position in ICU though, waiting for the right person with the right skill set, background and knowledge is important.  No one is better than the wrong one.

I Can Do Hard Things (take 394)

It's becoming a theme in my life, I've posted about it a couple of times {quite possibly with the same title minus 394} but life is hard.  I can do hard things.  Today I realized that anything in my life that has been worthwhile has been hard at some point.

• Getting up the nerve to try out for volleyball in High School.  I was so afraid I'd fail, not make the team, etc.  It took a lot of courage to show up to those try outs.  The day after I thought I'd never be able to move again.  My legs and arms had never been so sore from anything.  Worth it?  Yup.  Wish I could find a v-ball team around here to play on and kind of sad my YW don't like v-ball as much as basketball.  I'd be able to help them a ton more if they'd switch favorite sports.  {If I get brave and find it, I may even post an old v-ball picture}
• Going back to school with 3 kids.  Definitely hard, definitely worth it, definitely was a necessity.
• Trek, part 1 {this came up as I was wondering if the pioneers ever wondered if things would ever be easy again}  Toddler who refused to wear her shoes and ran everywhere barefoot -- including through the cactus and a medically complicated infant who cried constantly.  3 days at Martin's Cove with us an a handcart.  Worth it.
• Trek, part 2.  Hard in an entirely different way.  Our youth went as a stake and I ended up being Medical Team Lead.  You know, because I had so much time between trying to put the Primary together, being a single Mom and working full time.  I thought I'd have a pattern to follow, a list of suggested supplies, someone to talk to who'd done it before for our Stake.  Turns out it was the first time we went as a stake so no lists, no patterns, no sage advice.  A lot of what not to do's {it's easy to want to do something like start an IV to rehydrate a kid but it's also easy to lose your license that way}  Worth it in more ways than I can count, there are still things I'm realizing I gained from that experience, I could write a length blog about just how worth it that was.
• Taking an unpopular stand.  No details I'm willing to publish online, but took a stand against some pretty big egos and drew a clear line with set rules.  Rules may have not been followed, but everyone knew my position and that I was not willing to compromise.  Worth it.  Had people who were in a position to understand where I was coming from later tell me what a tough spot it was to be in.  Validation was nice too.

This is by far not an all inclusive list, just barely scratches the surface truthfully.  It also isn't a list of the hardest things, perhaps it's just the safest list to share. The things I gained from each hard experience couldn't have been gained had they been easy.  Yes, if I wasn't so nervous about trying out for volleyball I could have still made the team and formed those friendships but it was a defining moment for me -- first time I hadn't let my nerves and fear of failing stop me from trying something that seemed hard.  It was an early step to choosing to do hard things because the experience is worth it.

So, here I sit feeling like I'll never been a good enough {anything} because it's too hard and I just want to give up.  Except I can't give up, this isn't like trying out for volleyball.  It's life and life is hard.  I'm certain at some point down the road I'll look back on this time and be able to say "worth it"  The thought even crossed my mind earlier that I should be grateful things are hard right now -- I don't know that I'm strong enough to say that with full confidence though.

Wow, look at our hair -- I remember getting it that big was pretty hard to do too.