About Dads

My step dad died today. That's our truth now. My heart is in a thousand pieces, as I'm the eternal optimist who did not believe this could happen so soon. We knew he was pretty sick. Yesterday, I knew he was VERY sick. Today, his life was over. Just like that. 

I've been trying all day to make sense of this. I'm trying to put into words what this loss feels like from the perspective of a "bonus kid" who is so grateful for his love for my mom. He really did love her. Today it hit me- he really loved us too! The thing is, my real dad isn't in the picture of my life. I had (and still have) a great dad growing up. He was also a step dad who did not abandon us girls when the marriage didn't work out. I'm sitting here in stunned realization that two men stepped up to love 4 girls that don't share their DNA in a world where many men walk away.  

I am SO grateful that when our parents got married, my step sisters made us feel a part of their family. They loved us too, because of their parents' example of a healthy blended, perfectly imperfect family. Y'all, love is this. 

Dads love despite imperfections. Despite dumb decisions and plenty of regret. I'm blessed to have had THREE bonus dads (including my father-in-law) who loved me and my children to the moon. These men came into my life in totally different seasons, and I'm so grateful for their profound impact on my life. I am tougher, wiser, and more confident than ever that I was not abandoned, but blessed with something greater, a long, long time ago.  

Gosh, this loss hurts a lot. I feel a million miles away from my family today (and every day since we moved, really). I can't wait to come home and wrap my arms around the ones who are my family by blood and by love, and celebrate a man who didn't have to love 4 crazy, loud bonus daughters, but he did. 

Season of Change

 Spring break is coming to an end. I always have mixed feelings at the end of a break because I miss those kiddos, but I also enjoy my free time (aka naps). This year is different. The next two months will see all of us waiting on word about new teaching positions as our beloved TMS is closing. I'm praying for all these incredible people I work with, and I'm hoping we make a ton of priceless memories as the school year winds down. The next two months also end my daughter's high school journey. Graduation is 2 months from today! I am not capable of adequately expressing how this feels, as she skipped her sophomore year and Covid took a huge bite out of junior year and "normal" senior things. It has been a bittersweet time to say the least. Again, I'm praying for tons of great memories to end the year. Lastly, Brandon is waiting on orders right now. This can be especially nerve-wracking because of my job. The idea of moving in the middle of a teaching year is scary, but the idea of not teaching is actually devastating. What else would I do with my time? I have considered graduate school, and I'm still studying for the LSAT, but I can't even fathom planning that next step before Noah's first year of college is fully funded and we are settled in our new home. It's. A. Lot. So, now that spring break is over, I ask for prayers in the season of waiting and inevitable change. These are never easy things on a mama, but I am breathing, counting so many blessings, and believing for amazing things.

 #grateful #hurryupandwait #seriouslysograteful

A BIG Monster

*** This was written in about 10 minutes to get it off my chest.  I use panic and anxiety attack interchangeably, but I know the two are not the same.  Also, I am positive there are like a zillion typos.  Oops. 


I should have seen it coming.  There were signs, of course.  Ironically, when I am on vacation or have any kind of downtime, it rares its ugly head.  Anxiety.  My worst enemy. My monster under the bed.

Two years ago, I faced the worst anxiety attack.  My second ever.  I hardly ever
talk about it because it was emotionally and physically so traumatic.  Brandon was gone for a month of training in Southern California.  I was on summer break, but I had also just accepted my first teaching job.  My dream was literally coming true.  Everything I had worked for was sitting right there before me.  And then this...

It started with a panic.  I was just laying in my bed watching tv while the kids played together.  I could hear them.  Their laughter.  I remember feeling a weight bear down on my chest.  I started to hyperventilate.  I was breathing so hard and fast that I could not breath at all.  My fingers curled up (from lack of oxygen, presumably).  I couldn't feel my feet at all.  They were totally numb.  I called out for Noah.  I screamed for her.  She came in the room and I managed to ask her to call my neighbor.  When she got there I was curled up in the fetal position, sobbing.  I literally could not form the words in answer to her question, "What's wrong?"  NOTHING!  There was no pre-cursor.  I had experienced no great revelation or life-altering catastrophe.  This came from NOWHERE. I'm grateful to this day for her voice just sitting there talking to me and keeping my mind occupied while my breathing slowed.  When I say that is the most terrifying thing I've ever been through, I mean it.  Not even the ICU stay that almost killed me was THIS scary.  For days after, I had to tell myself to breath.  Take a slow breath, ReBecca.  Now take another.  Again.  

I started training for my new job in a total fog, willing myself out of bed every day.  I could hardly raise my hands above my head to blow dry my hair.  I was that exhausted.  Each day I came home and collapsed into bed, proud of myself for actually going.  For not losing my brand new job. I'm pretty sure my kids ate nothing but chicken nuggets and Lunchables during that time.  I'd say I'm ashamed of that, but I really think I was lucky to be surviving. I was  barely alive myself.  I do know that I managed to get Eli to therapy.  I managed to keep the house clean.  I made it until Brandon got home and then totally let him take over.  I told him about the anxiety attack.  Did I tell him that my foot stayed numb for months? I can't remember, but I stopped going to the gym consistently after that. My right foot felt like pins and needles.   I felt like maybe I'd done some permanent damage to it, but I was too embarrassed to go to a doctor and say, "I had a really bad panic attack and now I can't feel my foot."

So basically, the shame of anxiety started to rule my life in silence.  I should have gone to therapy.  I did go one time.  I didn't go back.  It felt like talking about it made it real.  I didn't want this to be a thing I was experiencing.  Not ME.  This was tantamount to a lack of faith.  I just needed to believe more. What did really have to feel sad about?  I am the opposite of the person who experiences anxiety because my life is good!  These are the things I said to myself.  Lies.

My life IS great, but that doesn't mean I don't have some serious issues stemming from a trying start in life.  I can't go into great detail about that right now.  I just know that for years I tried to live in a way that belied the pain of my early childhood.  I didn't want to acknowledge anything negative, so I just didn't.  But that isn't how the mind works.  Problems don't disappear, and it is becoming evident that I must face them

The past two weeks the anxiety has been building up, culminating in frustration and irritability.  There are a few contributing factors with stresses in my extended family, but I know it boils down to unresolved fears in me.  I decided to get help.  I still have faith that God can do awesome things through my life, but now I see that instead of running from my past, I have to use it as part of my testimony.  I have to be honest about who I was so that I can be proud of who I have become.  It is exhausting worrying over everyone else.  It is time to worry about me.

Friends and family, I ask for good vibes and prayers.  I don't need sympathy.  I am not thinking of harming myself (EVER).  I am beginning a journey of honesty that already hurts.  These wounds are old and gross.  They are ugly.  As always, I am grateful for the most amazing support system in my husband and children.  I told them yesterday that I'm getting help.  Eli said to me, "Mom, you just have to be able to say no to people."  And that comment from my 12 year old is why I know I'm going to beat this monster.

Much love,
ReBecca

Deployment

Before Army life I had a very narrow, albeit sympathetic view of deployment life.  I felt for families missing their soldiers and yet had no clue just how much strength those families must possess.   Wow! how experience does change us.  War changes us.
For instance- October 8, 2010.  The day my husband of 8 years got on a plane bound for the middle east.  I have never hurt so much in all my life...until...
Nine days later when my daughter had her 7th birthday.  Without her daddy.
It's true, with each passing day you grow a little bit stronger.  A thicker skin, maybe.  Slowly, you begin to meet people.  In my case, some amazing people from my church helped pass the time.  The Pierce family even had us over for Thanksgiving.  We won't soon forget that. 
Christmas was a little more difficult, but winter comes with its own distractions in Colorado.  Nana and Starla visited in early December.  Time flew by with Disney On Ice, Denver, and Ice Skating.  The rest of the month was a slow build-up of anxiety mixed with excitement to see the kids open what Daddy ordered online and shipped to them.  Christmas day was sad.  Thank God for skype!
New Year's Eve brought a snow storm and the first time I ever had to be self-sufficient in bad weather.  I failed miserably at that, and after totaling my Malibu, I now (and as long as we live in Colorado) have a 4wd vehicle! 
February- Valentine's Day and Brandon's birthday.  He sent me roses, I sent him candy and an ipod cover.  We made the best of it. 
March was a little easier.  A visit from Taryn and Melissa was short and sweet.  I love my North Carolina and Tennessee friends.  They can't all afford to take off and come see us, but their support and love was felt from a distance.  Also in March, I started meeting other Army wives through the FRG.  Why didn't I do THAT sooner?!  Live and learn, remember?  These ladies are strong and beautiful and funny.  They understand what I go through day to day.  Priceless.
April.  GUESS WHAT!  Brandon called me at 3am one day to say he's coming home on R&R for two weeks!  I don't think I slept much during that time period.  I had been having health problems anyway, but my anxiety went sky high.  Something you don't realize until you're separated from your spouse for a long time-it can be gut-churning to think about reuniting with him.  The end of April was amazing, though.  Well worth the wait.  
May-He got to be home on Mother's Day.  I was so spoiled and so happy.  Then, seven months after we saw him off the first time, we had to say goodbye again.   I held it together pretty well.  Then Noah broke down.  Leave it to my children to remind me that there is a hole in my heart the size of a grown man and yeah, that's something to cry about!  After a few days things went back to normal.  Noah finished up first grade with extremely good scores.  On reading comprehension she scored in the 99th percentile for first graders in the country.  (Had to brag!)
Summer-as we move closer to reuniting things begin to slow, but we have had a lot of fun so far.  The military treats us well, and has given us free tickets to fun family activities.  I'm positive there will be a marked improvement in our quality of life when Brandon gets home.  He is afterall, our comedian and entertainer, a job for which he is highly qualified. 
Back to the point.  I sit here at the end of our very first deployment, amazed at many things.  So much time has passed, which at the beginning felt like it would never end.  We have come so far. 
I'm in awe of the strength my two little ones have shown this year.  For the first time in their lives, and without understanding why, they were without the protector of their home.  Yet their smiles got me through this year.  I am so unbelievably proud of them. 
I am amazed at my husband.  He is a person for whom change does not come easy.  He decided to join the Army after 7 years at his previous job.  This year he has endured so much change, and through it all he has been my soft place to land.  He knows just what to say and just when I need to hear it.  I love him more than the day I married him.  He is truly my hero. 
I am in wonder because of my God. I am forever grateful for the strength His love has supplied me.  I don't know where I would be without faith.  I am far from perfect, but that is okay with Him.  He has been my Protector and Provider and my unwavering source of hope.  He answers prayer.

Deployment is not an easy thing to deal with.  It is a learning experience, a test, a personal pergatory at times.  I am grateful that we had a somewhat short first go-round, and for the amenities we enjoy that people in past deployments have not.  Like skype.  And I am grateful for every prayer and comment and message of concern for our family.  We have a great support system.  And we are ALMOST done!

The Truth as Some People Know It

Today I heard of someone ministering to a teenage boy who had literally never heard the name Jesus.   It broke my heart. 

I realize that in this day and age people believe many different things.  With every fiber of my being I know that this is because God gives us all the free will to choose.   

The thing is, more and more people do not tell anyone about their beliefs in the gospel of Jesus Christ.  And if you know it and believe it, this is unacceptable.   How can anyone make a decision for Christ if they have no idea who He was (IS)?   For anyone reading this who does not believe,  I am not sorry for what I do believe.  We live in a country where it is ok to think and say and believe what you want. 
But if you are looking for the Love the you can't find in any person or thing, seek a relationship with God.  And if you want to know the story of Jesus Christ's sacrifice, I will be glad to tell it, because many years ago, more than one someone took the time to share it with me.   

I Miss You...

I am pretty sure that I can survive the next few months of this journey.  I've made it five and a half thus far.  But our latest challenge has been the fact that communications are down.  Anyone who is in a marriage knows the importance of communication.  I can  deal with the stress of not knowing what he is doing, as long as there are no phone calls or knocks at the door.  I can deal with the stress of living like a single mom, and doing everything I can to get my family through this in one piece.  I can even deal with being very lonely.   What I have a harder time with is not hearing his voice.   He is everything a husband should be, including an assuring presence in my life, even when he is not physically here.  These past eleven days have been the slowest of the entire deployment.  I pray to hear his voice, and I am thankful that God is watching over us both, and knows things that I do not know.    It is a mystery to me how wives dealt with these absences before technology.  Military wives of the past are now my heroes.  How tough would you have to be to go months without knowing the status of your most beloved?  I cannot fathom it.  In light of recent tragedies, I realize that I am lucky every day that we are here, loving and missing one another.  But the day my best friend comes home is going to be the most welcome, most exciting-and at the same time-calming, day of my life.   

Body Battle

This is not a New Year’s Resolution.  It’s more like a resolution I’ve had since the day I gave birth to my son and only lost the 8 lbs. 9 oz. of his weight.  Yep, the battle of the bulge.  Okay so that’s an exaggeration.
    All my life I’ve been unsure of my body.  Maybe that’s because I started out as a runt, wearing the same size clothes as my little sister.  My mom thought it was cute.  She dressed us like twins whenever possible.  I was a twig, to put it realistically.   Then 7th grade comes along and wham! I have curves, and long legs, and HUGE feet.  And not the coolest clothes in school…but that’s another story.  One I really don’t care to tell as it has no bearing on how I feel about myself. 
    When I look at pictures of me then, I can’t even believe I had a poor body image.  I looked fantastic, really.  I was athletic and outgoing, and never had trouble making friends.  And to tell the truth about it, it would be funny to think about….IF….

    IF I didn’t have a beautiful daughter who is charming and awesome and bound to be curvy and tall, just like her mom.  When I think about the media’s portrayal of the right body (non-existent! This one’s too small, that one’s too fat…) I want to hide her away and protect her from the inevitable judgment of others, and even harsher judgment of herself.  Which leads me to my non-resolution, resolution.  To be happy with myself, and be her first and closest example of a positive body image. 
    Lately, I have been eating healthier and staying active.  These things aren’t all that hard for me to do as it turns out.  I walk the dog, walk to the mailbox, pick up the kids, put down the kids.  I also go to the gym whenever possible.  I’m sure that in time, I will start to see the changes that I’m hoping for, and that will motivate me further.  But the thing that I’ve realized, begrudgingly, is that I am no longer eighteen.  I cannot expect myself to look it or feel it.  What I can do is be my healthiest, happiest self at twenty-six. 
    How do I plan to do this?  Well, one step at a time.  By keeping with my goals and refusing to give up.  I don’t really have a weight in mind.  I have in mind to feel good about myself and to stop using the word ’diet’ so much.  No, I’ll stop using it altogether.  Ultimately my goal is to quit comparing myself to little bitty people who are always going to be little bitty.  I have these things called hips, and as far as I know, they aren’t going away.  So it’s time to get happy with them.  Because my husband seems to be, and well, that’s pretty important.
    In another five or more years from now (Dear Lord, please let it be more) when my daughter starts looking more like a young woman, I only hope that she will know her worth inside and out.  That she will be active and content and love herself for the effort she puts forth. That she could look first to God and then to her family and realize that she is exactly who she is supposed to be.  Big feet or not.  Wouldn’t that be a happy ending?