Plans...

Every time I set up a "plan" it is nothing more than an excuse to rebel against it, or so it seems. People say that you are your thoughts. If I think I'm a failure, I'm a failure. If I tell my self I'm a raving ADD freak...then I'm going to behave that way or, at the very least, use that as an excuse to be spastic and distracted.

I also have an issue with looking back over past failures and using that as an excuse to not move forward.


I've failed at this so many times before, what makes me think that this time will be different? Anybody else had these thoughts?

I don't even like to announce big plans because then it isn't just myself I'm disappointing when I don't see it through. That, and the fact that it won't just be me thinking, "yep, we've heard this story before" and discouraging me from climbing that mountain.

I've been hearing a lot about "couch to 5k" on facebook from a few friends. So, last night I looked up some info and got all excited about doing it then struggled internally about the fact that I would plan it and fail, again.

So, I'm going to go slowly. I'm not going to announce that I am going to run a 5K in a couple months. Nope. I'm announcing that I am going to start this program and see where it takes me. One day at a time. My first week will look like this.

I will work out 3 days, alternating workout-days with rest days. (of course I really don't get "rest" days on the farm)

The first weeks workout will look like this...
Five minute brisk walk followed by 60 seconds of jogging and 90 seconds of walking for a total of 20 minutes. 


Completely doable!!

Thats all I'm going to say about it. Should I make it through the first week and move on to the second. I'll be blogging about that, then.

There are many reasons for needing to implement this into my life. I need to get in shape physically. It used to be about the way I look...now it has become about how I feel. Arthritis is quickly riddling my body. It used to be just my thumbs, but now my shoulders, knees, and back are beginning to feel it. I'm going to talk to my doctor about a new medication option for me next week. If it were up to me, I would love to heal my body naturally with diet and exercise but it just seems like I am going to have to have some relief of the western medicine variety. The way I feel right now, I think I need to go to the hospital and have a 24 hour morphine drip...but I realize I'm a big baby and need to just suck it up and move on with life.

It has always seemed strange to me that me pain dissipates with the pain of exerting ones self in disciplined exercise. Sitting sedentary is worse on your joints than exercise? It all comes clear when I stand from a couch marathon or rise from my bed in the morning.

I've completed one day. Tomorrow will be a light duty day, possibly a trip to the river and some swimming. My joints are always so happy to be buoyant. I think I just got a euphoric high just thinking about it.

A list of things...

Since I haven't blogged in a while I was going to sit down and write a short novel about the last couple of months. Then I decided I didn't want to have to use my brain, my fingers, or my thesaurus that much. Instead, I have decided to make a tidy list of events...

Here goes:

(these are in no particular order and are not to scale) 

Kyle turned 18. Rodney and I congratulated each other with a high-five.

The goats ate my ferns, my kale and my petunias. I cried. 

Emma got a booboo on her shoulder when she went running through the woods like a banshee while her fence was temporarily out of order. 

We drove to Port Aransas to celebrate Aimee and J.R.'s wedding. The wind blew. 

We ate at Whataburger. 

I got a new puppy. 

We finished the cross-fence, worked cattle and moved them to the north pasture. I got kicked and so did Rodney. Ingrates. 

Saw some old friends we hadn't seen in years. 

I turned 39...not 40. 

Mowing season started and all my freckles popped back out. 

April 17th was 6 months of sobriety for me. 

I actually went shopping and bought a dress. (only because I was forced to)

I stabbed the back of my hand with a 12 gauge cow needle that was sticking up out of the dish drain while I was straining goat cheese. It bled, but not on the cheese. 

Sold all my boy baby goats and the older does with udder problems. I cried again. 

Started memorizing the book of James. 

Bought a new tackle box and some bobbers. (definitely more my kind of shopping)

Tilled the garden, twice. 

Started work on a gate for our driveway to keep the goats out so I can actually have more than just well-tilled dirt in my garden. 

Thought I couldn't possibly love my husband any more than I already did...I was wrong. 

Drove to Hot Springs like 20 times. 

Gave myself a pedicure. 

Played dominoes with Rodney. 

Weedeated about 50 miles of fence row and around chicken houses. More crying.

Had a birthday party for all the "April" birthday's at my parent's house. Ate cake. 

Ate more cake. 

There are various and sundry events that are not listed. I can't think of them now, but I'm sure they happened. 

Peace and love! 

A MIRACLE!!

I thought I'd take a break from writing about all my personal problems and share something of extreme importance...shower cleaner. 

We have well water. It's hard, irony and it leaves stains on everything. We have a sand filter which minimizes the iron in the water but we still see it manifest itself after weeks of neglecting to furiously scrub the shower. 

I got an email from my Mom a few days ago about a post she'd seen on pinterest. It was about combining vinegar and blue dawn dishwashing liquid and creating some magical potion that would miraculously clean your shower (or anything else you wanted). The post was pretty specific that it had to be blue dawn and that you couldn't substitute. 

Anyway...the recipe is a cup of vinegar heated in the microwave for about 2 minutes and a cup of blue dawn. You heat the vinegar and then add the blue dawn and mix...put in a spray bottle and, viola. 

The instructions said you could leave it on as long as over night but an hour or so of application would amaze you. 

So, here goes....

This is my very sad, iron stained shower before... Go ahead and judge me, there's nothing you can think about me that I haven't already told myself. 

Then I sprayed and sprayed and sprayed until every corner was covered and then went and ate some candy. 

(side note...this stuff does create some kind of fume that I noticed made me cough and then gave me a headache so be careful!)

 Don't forget to eat candy. 

After a couple of hours (and when I remembered that I'd sprayed the shower with blue goo) I excitedly went to spray it down and was actually prepared to scrub and scrub. Ok, I might start to cry now. As I started to rinse that goo off and lightly scrub with my bathroom scrubby brush, all that irony-soap-scumy crud started to just vanish. I could hear angels singing! 

Just LOOK! 

It isn't perfect, but nothing in my life is. The spots I missed can easily be cleaned now that I know the magic potion to do so. 

I really couldn't believe how easy it was and how well it worked. I've been fighting this battle for years...this is true freedom! 

About that

It has come to my attention that some people may fear my transparency by blogging about being an alcoholic could "bite me in the butt". That somehow opening up and telling the world (although I only have 19 or 20 followers) would condemn me for life. I can see that sharing EVERYTHING could have consequences. I can see that there are some things that are better kept private or shared with great discretion to a few trustworthy people. This is an extremely personal and tender subject and I chose to share for several reasons.

The best explanation I can give for shouting it from the mountain top goes directly back to the story of the woman at the well. Jesus held nothing back in confronting her and holding a mirror to her face. She could have been thankful for the opportunity to be redeemed and simply went back home with her salvation hidden in her pocket. But, God love her, she didn't do that. She went and told everybody in town (not that they probably didn't already know). She was so thrilled with her encounter with Christ, even though it was convicting, that she couldn't keep it all in.  I'm sure there were those that looked upon her with disdain and thought her foolish to proclaim it. I choose to see this: Many of the Samaritans from that town believed in him because of the woman's testimony, "He told me everything I ever did". John 4:39 Those are powerful words to me. If I have to endure a few of the naysayers to bring even one person some comfort or help their belief in Jesus, that is a very small price to pay.

I also chose to share for another reason. I live in a small town and gossip goes around like wildfire. It wouldn't be long before word of my alcoholism became public knowledge and the stories would quickly spread. I've seen it happen a thousand times. Recently, I've heard from several people that they heard my parents had moved away. Where it originated, we may never know. But, it is a perfect example of how information moves in a small community and is taken as fact, even false information. So, I took it upon myself to "publish" my story. I'm sure that their will be spin-offs and misconceptions but the facts are in black and white should anybody want to know the truth. And, instead of having to tell the same story a hundred times to explain it all to those who would ask...they can simply read my blog.

If I was an employee where my job could be jeopardized because of my admission, I'm sure I would have kept it to myself. My employer is most understanding and has decided to keep me on full-time and support me 100% in my recovery efforts. He even still sleeps in my bed.

The bottom line is that I needed to be honest about it. I could have chosen a hundred different avenues to confess it, this is just what I was led to do. If I had kept it hidden, it would have brought me down again. I'm certain of it. When God presses upon my heart to do something, I think I'd better listen. What could I have to personally gain by writing about my disease other than to free myself from the burden of it? Why would anybody see that as a bad thing? I am not ashamed, no more than I would be if I were sick with cancer and writing about my struggles with that. (now it won't surprise me if I hear a rumor circulating that I have cancer) *snicker*

I so appreciate those that have supported me, the kind words, the loving gestures, the listening ear. I even appreciate those souls that aren't sure what to say to me and avoid talking to me. Sometimes, I don't know what to say either. I'm human and struggling through life just like everybody else. It is in those common threads of conflict that we find comfort in each other. God is weaving a marvelous tapestry that we can't see but, I'm certain that it is woven through our love and understanding of each other. We are the threads, let's let Him have his way with us.

Better

"I'm doing well." 

That has been my response lately when asked "how are you doing". Even in turmoil and struggle, I think I've always answered that question positively. To answer any other way would burden the asker and I just could never bring myself to do that. If my phone happens to ring in the middle of the night, even then, I attempt to sound like I'm up and chipper so as not to make the caller feel bad for having awakened me. 

What is that? That innate need to please people even when I'm in no shape to do so? 

My point is that, lately..."I'm doing well" is truth. The first time I said it and really meant it, I had a moment of thinking, "wow, I really am doing well". Today is February 3rd. It's foggy, misty, yucky, muddy outside and the fact that I'm not curled up on the couch, depressed and feeling disgusting and useless has me almost baffled. And, I'm not about to analyze it to death. I shall simply...enjoy-- being-- well. 

It is not of my doing, this phenomenon of feeling at peace. I simply ceased fighting. The list of what I was fighting is infinite and too much to go into. The short version is that I quit trying to be perfect, beating myself up for not being perfect and feeling like a complete failure and then sitting in my pity and doing nothing. The cycle was vicious and unrelenting. I've climbed out of that pit but still feel like I'm lingering very near the edge. There is conscious effort that must be made in order to give myself a break. I'm kinda hoping that one day it will come naturally. But, even if it doesn't and I still have to put forth the effort to lay my burdens down and choose peace, I'm still free. 

I took my credit card bills out today, laid them on the table, highlighted the balances, minimum amount due, due dates etc... and then felt heavy hearted and defeated. We are expecting a check any day but I'm afraid it won't be here in time to make the payments before the due dates. I called one of the companies and explained. He was very nice and told me I was doing an excellent job of paying on time and "not to worry". He must have said that 3 or 4 times, "oh don't worry ma'am".  It made me feel a little better but I was still struggling with the lump in my chest that just wanted them all paid and put away so I didn't have to think about it anymore. Well, until next month. Ah, an opportunity for bravery. Oh was it? I finally just told God that I didn't know what to do and that I was going to trust Him with this problem. 

I went about my work and then retreated to my office for a moment to read an email which led to reading a blog. The blog I was reading has soft kinda sad music. I could feet tears coming. Then, it started to rain outside and I decided that I'd park myself in my window seat, watch the rain and have a good cry. I moved Emma out of the way and settled in for a good bawl. Out of nowhere the music switched to something less moving and not conducive to crying. Then the rain started pouring really hard, distracting me from the task at hand. I kept seeing things in the yard, "oh look what Emma drug up now". The rain became very intense and, as if somebody flipped a switch, it stopped. Well, by this time with all of the distractions and weather weirdness, I was nowhere near crying. I don't know exactly what message God was trying to send me other than He did NOT want me having a pity party. 

The difference in my spirit now is that, even though the message was a whisper, I listened. Typically, I would have changed the music, thought about something really sad until I got my way and had my cry out. See what I mean? I ceased the fight. Well, that one anyway. There is no way to know how I will handle any given situation. There is no way for me to know exactly what God wants from me other than accepting His grace and power through it. It doesn't even mean that I am not going to feel sad or scared or powerless, it simply means that I go with God. Whatever the circumstance, whatever the fear, whatever the joy...I go with God. And for that, I am better. 

Certainty of Uncertainty

I'm in the middle of a season that has left my brain almost completely nonfunctioning. So much of what used to drive my thought process has been stripped away and has left my head wide open and unoccupied. I can still make a joke, bake cornbread, work on the computer, write a check, feed the dogs, take a photo, and arrange flowers but there is an odd silence occurring. 

I'm beginning to understand that I was completely engulfed by ego because now that I've given myself over to God's care, my ego is quite(er) and the silence is deafening. How could I have not known what a prisoner I was? How could I have mistaken all of that indignation as righteous? Somebody said to me recently that he never thought he was angry at people, he just thought he had some really good advice for them. Those were my thoughts exactly. Everybody is stupid and mean and I need to tell them how to behave! Now that the reality of the situation has convicted me and all signs of meanness and stupidity have a big Y-O-U on them...I am suddenly seeing every person differently. I think of all the things I've said out of deluded piety and want to sit and weep. I've not gotten to my "amends" step and can feel my stomach knot up even thinking about it. It has been assured me that I'm not ready for it yet. I'm supposing that my ego has even further to fall and perhaps my poor head will become even more silent. 

The comfort in it all is that I've given up fighting. It is OK that I don't know. I don't have to clamor for the right words or  try to come up with quick come backs. I get to be me. Healing, confused, broken, beautiful... me. All my defenses are down and I don't have to carry around that thousand pound weight anymore. I get to let God handle all of the people or situations in my life. If people really are mean or cruel, I can view them as ill and allow God to love them and heal them. It isn't my responsibility. Finding out that I really don't know anything is the most freeing thing I've experienced. And, boy do I have a long way to go.

One day at a time makes so much more sense to me now. I don't have to worry about tomorrow and that is a miracle. 

Explanations and stuff...

For some reason, I always feel the need to explain myself. Apparently people have a preconceived notion of what an alcoholic is, and I don't fit into that picture. I, myself, had the same idea which is why I stayed in denial for so long about my condition. I am what would be considered a high-functioning alcoholic. I've attached a link for anybody who cares to read further about it. The key phrase that sticks with me about my particular form of alcoholism (and I'm sure I've written this before) is "The story of high functioning alcoholism is rarely told because it is not one of obvious tragedy but of silent suffering".

The feeling of being misunderstood about this thing that is such a huge part of my life is disconcerting but something I'm learning to deal with. I am understanding that people don't understand. I am beginning to grasp the fact that my condition doesn't need to be appreciated, even by those that are closest to me. Somehow, it still makes me feel like a freak. Going to meetings and finding a familiarity with others is a big relief. It is in the presence of those who've suffered similarly that I can find true support.

The true redemption of my life and my soul has come from honesty. Stepping out of the darkness of deceit into the light of truth has set me free. I can't over-emphasize this fact. While I may have put on a really good face while in the midst of my suffering, it was all so ugly and untruthful. Now that I'm facing my truth, why would I be surprised that nobody saw it? Wasn't that the goal...to keep it all hidden away? I guess I'm a better actor than I gave myself credit for. Frightening thought. So, any uneasiness I face because people don't believe I'm an alcoholic is my own doing. Such an odd place to be sitting. It is almost as if people would rather believe the lie. Epiphany going on in my head as I type this. They aren't comfortable with the fact that there would be anything "wrong" with me. It is way easier (and much less work) to simply pretend that everything is ok. I lived there for many years. Just pretend you're ok. Keep that beast in chains and under control and nobody will know he's there. It is exhausting just thinking about it.

I know there are people out there that have probably spilled more than I drank, but the fact remains that it had taken me hostage and I became powerless against it. By definition, that is an alcoholic. I don't want to be one. Every time I try to convince myself that I'm not one is when I am letting the enemy temp me to drink. He doesn't fight fair. He messes with my head. It is under God's protection that I am completely safe. As soon as I step out of that protection and let my guard down, a fiery dart will pierce my flesh and I become weak. Some days, the victory is simply not taking a drink and other days are filled with bounding steps towards freedom. That is why there is so much emphasis on "one day at a time". I do what I can do today and that is all.

I can control the small things. I can pray. I can meditate. I can go to meetings. I can read scripture. I can pray some more. The rest is left up to God. He will never leave me or forsake me. He will protect me from the evil powers of this world. I can rest assured of that. I will face this day knowing I am saved and free and loved.