A secret between you and me.

I remember back to the original days of my blog when, in all my naivete, I thought the internet was anonymous. What? You mean I could write on this page, and not attach a full name or profile (which I hadn't then) and amongst the millions of other bloggers out there, people could actually figure out who I was and then computer stalk me? What? No way! Well, much to my chagrin, they did. And sadly enough some weren't nice. Surprisingly, which is even altogether the more impressive thing though, is that I know enough about computers to know that I could install tracking software on the blog page to track the people (through cookies) who would enter my page and go straight back though their i.p. address to those who were being so mean to me. So, I know personally the ones who called me the ugly names and said all the unkind things to me. I have been incredibly hesitant to write ever since then.

But now I am back. I will be writing on here more often and logging my thoughts, as random as they may be on life and on my experiences specifically in my personal Bible studies.

For now I think I will let you in on a secret:

There is no such thing as anonymous on the internet!
Shhhh! It's our secret.

Cold turkey

I'm not talking turkey, ha!, as in delicatessen or thanksgiving brand fowl. No, I'm talking the kind that leads to lectures from your pharmacist friend and fear of even telling your doctor/ friend. Yeah, I'm talking about quitting certain meds cold turkey.  Ok, so this will probably make some cringe and others worry and even more readers think I am more foolish than they first thought, but that's just all a matter of your perspective of me and my reasoning. I've been on a couple of ssri meds for awhile now (since I was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis nearly 3 years ago) for depression and anxiety. These meds took the fear and the distress out of a pretty crumby prognosis. They also saved me from my tears. Yeah I cried a lot before- just go back and read past posts (many were written with healthy tears streaming down my cheeks). But you can't imagine the tears that came when I found out that my immune system was eating my myelin sheaths-- whatever. It could only lead to bad things as I age but what bad things were left totally up to the disease. If the immune system decided to munch on the nerves to my eyes I could go blind (I actually lost central vision in one eye last winter, but it is better now). If it decides to make a meal of certain nerves that affect my legs I could be bound to a walker or worse a wheelchair. So you can see what fed my depression and anxiety. Every funny feeling in any area of my body and my thoughts snowballed to "could this be it?" Well, as I got used to the meds my tears and fears lessened. I found that I was not even having to mask my healthy tears. I could wear mascara again. And woo boy did I. I loved the feeling of not being ashamed of my frequent tears. Slowly, I forgot that tears could be healthy and I forgot what God had told me about my tears one day. I forgot that tears were my gift of praise and love to God. That my tears were a result of my love for him and his people.

Now skip ahead a few years to this stoic, seemingly angry and seemingly (or maybe even truly) resentful shell of this once God loving, God fearing woman. This woman who once cried for a squished turtle or with a friend whose heart was breaking now only cried tears in anger or frustration. The tears of compassion and empathy were long buried. BUT along with those tears went most sincere smiles, the ridiculous uncontrollable laughter over my jokes that only I found the humor in to start.

Skip ahead again to 10 days ago. I forgot my pills. After a couple of days of forgetting them I realized that I wasn't as tired as I normally was. I decided to experiment for a week. I went off all meds just to see what happened. -- Now on a side note, don't do this!!! I would be the worst person ever to follow in medical decisions. After 7 days I ran into a friend in the store. She told me about some really bad things going on in her life. I found MYSELF (the real me) crying with her. My leaky eyes reminded me of that woman who once would cry with her friends or acquaintances or even the wooly worm she nearly ran over on the highway.

This is when I decided my cold turkey was better than I thought. But how long would the face buzzing last? I contacted my friend who is a pharmacist. Of course he didn't have to lecture me- I already knew what I did was not the best choice. He told me though that by this time the electric lips would soon diminish. Now at day 10, I am glad I did it this way. (Again don't, please don't use me as an example for what to do). I make bad choices often and thankfully God uses them to teach me a lesson. This was a bad choice in my going about it, but only by doing it this way was I able to see what God wanted me to see. Even if my vision is blurred through tears, I could clearly see what he was teaching me. That I need him not drugs to keep me safe. He is my rock, not Zoloft. He is my comfort, not Wellbutrin. Even if I really did need them (many people do and so don't stop yours without consulting your doctor) I needed this lesson even more. I want to repeat that for emphasis. I needed to learn a lesson even more than I needed the medicine. My heart has been securely locked away for safe keeping and has shut people out for too long. The medicine made me not need these people and in the end forget my need for God. He reminded me tonight that even though I desperately want to be able to sing (so badly I posted on Facebook recently asking if anyone ever wanted something so badly it hurt. I got several noble responses so I didn't reveal my desire to be able to sing without making dogs howl) he has given me healthy tear ducts and a huge heart to share with people instead. My voice will simply have to please him alone (well maybe my girls and preschoolers too cause they don't know the difference). I found my heart and dusted it off this week. I hope all of the people I have placed in a safe place outside my bubble will forgive me for keeping them at arms reach... or for some farther than that.

I have referenced to times in my past that I previously wrote about so feel free to browse back through my past posts if you are stumped over something I said. I hope to be writing on a regular basis again.

Spoons verses knives... and thoughts on me.

Today in my own private... well not so private that most all of my coworkers weren't present, for it was actually staff meeting, therapy session I was made to think about a few things. It is easy to be an open book on the computer and share your thoughts and ideas and goals with a faceless crowd, but doing this to a crowd of faces (those whom I care about and have gotten to know) in person and even now via this blog is a totally different story.

I have in the past been very open on here, because I knew the people who read and I already knew what they thought of me. Whether bad or good, it didn't matter for such is life. Some responses hurt, but when you've been hurt by someone in the past you can expect it again and again and so you are armed with that expectation. It doesn't hurt as badly when you can brace for it. And I generally turn the other cheek, but once turned I know the second one is coming.


For someone like me who thinks everything TO DEATH and takes everything literally and personally, it doesn't take much to cause deep wounds. And actually the dull or blunt weapons (spoons)- the hurts disguised as something other than what they really are, hurt worse than the sharp, piercing words (knives) that could never be disguised. So, being hurt like that, I quit blogging. I tend to give that sort of hurt the pleasure of winning. The one's who love me, hurt me most. It doesn't hurt so bad when it comes from someone who doesn't love you. To be completely honest, I've been hurt so many times by people I should have trusted with my life, by people who claim to love me, think of my best interests, that it is hard for me to let people love me. I find it so much easier to have shallow relationships or be real friends with people who in no way would ever disguise hurtful words, or friendly with people who claim to love me. Yep-- sometimes I am drawn to mean people. To the people who have stung me with sharp words. I find myself terrified of people who say they love me. Terrified to the point of building up a very stout, but invisible wall between me and them. I stack all but a few bricks as time in the relationship goes on just waiting for that person to hurt me and prove my wall beneficial. Then I finish off the wall. I still interact and love and am friendly with these people, but I am completely guarded and manipulative in what part of me I share with them. The me they see, is the me they want to see. There are a minority of people who know the "real" me. My husband, my best friend from high school... OK, so 2 people. Neither one of them have ever caused me to put up a wall. 

The person I fear losing the most is my husband. The reason I know he loves me is that he lets me be exactly who I am. He never tries to put me into a category, never tries to change me, never tries to second guess me... He loves me for some reason exactly as I am-- and I am far from worthy. I think this is why I have such a profound respect for him. He loves me like my Heavenly Father loves me, like Jesus loves me, like the Bible tells him to love me. 


That is how I know he loves me. It is also how I know who I am today. The person he allows me to be is me. 


I am thoughtful; I like the things I like even if others find them ridiculous; I like to work alone because I am much more productive that way and can be more efficient-- I also do not have to worry about hurting that persons feelings by telling them I want to do it my way (red) or the other option which I have so many times done- give in and just silently do what everyone else wants to do not offering my own ideas (blue); I like to think of new things; I have high expectations for myself and other people. I value a fast learner, a motivated person, a "go getter". I value a person I can trust not to make excuses, but who will tell me the truth and work as hard as I do to get a project done at the same time, if I am not working hard, I don't expect someone else to. I feel totally guilty if someone is working harder than me (almost to the appearance of being competitive, nosy, or a control freak.) Once I make my mind up, there is no stopping me (no person that can at least-- I've been redirected by God before). 

Once an idea or goal or vision is in my mind, I don't want others' opinions unless I ask, I don't want others' input unless I ask and I don't like to share these ideas because that is the first instinct of everyone I have ever met-- that is to tell you how you should do it. When they do this, I feel I have to choose either the direct (Red) way of handling the advice or the peace making (Blue) way. If I keep to myself, I get it done the way I vision it. If it is not as good as I planned, I can perfect it. If I end up sharing an idea, I usually just go ahead, play dumb and get that person to tell me how to do it just to forgo all of the drama in my head of the advice session which inevitably is bound to follow. Or, I preface my ideas with-- these are dumb ideas-- so that if you have an idea different it won't hurt your feelings by mine being "not yours" and at the same time it allows the other person to at least hear and possibly weigh my ideas as an option without me being blunt and if they are found to be "dumb" I've already said so and my feelings can't get hurt. 


Yup, I'm me; as messed up as it sounds, that is who I am. Love me or leave me. Hopefully the ones who truly love me will love me as me. The me who over thinks everything, even to the point of over thinking me.

Here is what I am up to.

Not that at this point I have any followers left I am sure, for it has been a really long time since I've written... but here is what I am up to.  I am considering taking up the pen again and writing (or tapping at the keyboard rather) much to the chagrin of a best friend of mine who thinks blogging is stupid. I am prepared to take the flak-- I'm pretty sure I have never actually typed that word before and am shocked it is a real word... but back to the drivel- well maybe just to said friend, possibly my monological writing will be beneficial to some people. I know I went back and read some of my words [out of boredom I went to the stats of my all but abandoned blog and found that many times a day this one particular page was being trafficked by people all around the world so I followed the entry point to this page]--  Satan is the author of all lies, fear and shame! a post that has been read 100's of times by people literally all over the world (according to the stats).  In reading this long since forgotten post, I actually helped myself realize that writing is helpful to me. I can logically and scripturally analyze my issues-- issues that I must not be alone in dealing with or at least they are found amusing. 

Oh so, so, so, so many issues. I apparently have more issues than any real life person and thus am my own story book character-- or so I've been told.

So first off-- to all the critics of homeschooling moms-- you win. I gave that up. BUT I still do not think I was wrong in homeschooling-- just my goals for my daughters success will be better served in the setting at the public school arena. I think looking back on my goals-- which I never really calculated inso much as long term goals, were mostly protection and sheltering, and providing a better chance for them to grow in knowledge-- for 1 on 2 teaching 7 days a week, 365 days a year NEVER happens in the public school setting. Looking at how God defines success and what he measures on our "report cards" is TOTALLY different. He looks at the heart. He looks at how my girls love him by loving others and by standing up for him in the face of adversity. Well what am I protecting and sheltering them from? Adversity and conflict. How will they become competent at this and ready to be fully challenged with this if they are not allowed to practice facing the enemy with my helping hand beside and eventually behind them. If I am in front-- then I am the one facing the foe. Right? When I finally one day step out of the way, if they have never seen the enemy because my protective cover has always blocked it, will they see past his beauty and recognize him for what he is?

Even so, this is not the reason I quit homeschooling; it is however, the conclusion I have come to as I seek God's meaning in these changes he is asking us or maybe just allowing us to make. This year our lives in this house have changed more than just school-wise. I am now a full time working mom. A very good/ God thing! I have a new love which I can't wait to eventually share photos with you. You see, his name is Apache. He is black and white and has a marbled eye and weighs about 900 pounds. His barn sister is closing in the gap though as my favorite-- Duchess or "baby girl". She is the horse I helped my dear friend Peggy break this year. Apache is the horse I ride currently, but am likely to start riding duchess soon. Riding is the way I have found to relax and completely forget about the worries of this life. There is no better way to let go than to take off in a full canter, hair flying in the wind behind me... makes me long to be saddled up right now.

So, wether or not I continue to write on here is still up in the air, but just so you know. I am alive-- I AM because He's living in me!

Sorry to be a cynic.

I will be taking a break from the blog for a while. While you wait-- read these books: Radical by David Platt, Crazy Love by Francis Chan, and In a Pit with a Lion on a Snowy Day by Mark Batterson. Then you will understand how someone can sell an NBA team and give the entire amount to a foundation for ministry, or how a couple of engineers can take their family into the mission field and live serving Christ, or how a famous Christian artist can live on a small salary and give all of the rest of his money from his music to the church and live on a reservation ministering to the people there. I want to be a lion chaser.

Or don't and be left out!