Every. Single. Day.

hey hey hey!!!

We all change.  We all grow into our future selves, and away from our past selves.  I've blogged before about how each person choices are based on their personal experiences and perspective.
It's been a long time since I've just been silly.  I would have to say probably since my mom passed away.  Pranks, jokes, and silliness kind of became a thing I once was. Things became so serious in the last few years...probably 6 years.  I've been told not to blog about some things in last few years.  I will certainly respect that.  In my life, I have had to let go of several things, worries, mental luggage that I was carrying.  We each walk around picking up things and packing them in our suitcases.  It is not typically good things that we decide to carry around in that suitcase. 

Let go of things. 

So many views across the world, so much judgement from people, so much belittling, self-proclaimed righteousness... let it go.  you are holding yourself to a flame, backing yourself into a corner by carrying your negative suitcase, and relying on the world to make your decisions based on the current hot topic.  Puh-leez.  My kids are 17 and 25.  Did I have regrets? Oh yes.  Did I do it right?  "Right" is a matter of opinion, so I guess so.  I raised them one step at a time, one dilemma at a time, one laugh at a time, one craft at a time.  Period.  Nothing else matters.  That's what you get.  One day at a time. Yeah?  Seriously ponder that for a moment.  You only get one day at a time.  That's all you've ever gotten.  You can plan for what-ifs, but you cannot see tomorrow.  You are not guaranteed tomorrow.  You chose your mood, your reactions, your smile, your happy.  You chose!  Unpack that luggage of negativity, doubts, and regrets.  Unpack it!  You get right now. 

Friday that happened for me.  I decided to let go of the worries I have for the future, the losses I may or may not incur, the tears I may or may not shed, the goals I may or may not reach.  I let it go!  I chose happiness.  The sky outside are dark and pregnant with the promise of rain and thunder.  It's as if they represent the mood of luggage that people carry around.  I refuse to let that seem dreary to me.  I chose to be happy and smile through the rain.  Friday, I decided that one day at a time is what I get and I will try to hold on to that through each day.  I will try to remember that I get to chose happiness each day.  I get to chose to smile.  I get to close my eyes, feel God, and breath Him.  So amazing. 

Here's my challenge to you.  Feel good.  Feel happy.  Do a craft with your kids.  You do not get today back once it's gone.  Stand outside, close your eyes, and just feel God.  You are not a bellhop, quit carrying around luggage. You get today.  What one thing can you do today to make yourself smile?  Do it.  Quit carrying around your regrets of yesterday, and run through the fields!  One day at a time, chose happy.  It is completely your choice.  Be silly.  Dance in the rain.  Splash in a mud puddle today.  Have pie as an appetizer.  Smile.  Tell a dumb joke of the day to everyone you see. Instead of just saying hello to people, wave like you haven't seen them in a month (I do this to people at work...it's fun.  They WILL wave back).  Be happy today, then be happy tomorrow.  One day at a time. 

Let go and chose happy. Every single day.

Enjoy your Lasts

Been a while since I blogged.  Pretty soon, I will have more time to do so.  Super excited about that.  There are some amazing things going on in my life!! I am so excited to just be living, traveling, and enjoying time with people in my life. 

What a wonderful treat this past year has been so full of adventure, laughs and friends.  I did a lot of traveling this year.  I did more traveling this year than I ever have in a year.  years ago, I decided that I was going to visit one place each year that I have never been before.  This year, I went to three! I went to Galveston five times (I visit there many times each year), Mexico - which was also my first cruise, Arizona for 10 days, weekend in Fort Worth, and also visited Port Aransas for the first time as well.  There are so many things to see all over this country.  I'm not really interested in amusement parks, wildlife reserves, or history museums.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not opposed to them, just know that I will not plan an entire trip around something like that.   I am more interested in adventures, experiences, even silly things.  In Port Aransas, my good friend Beth and I, walked to the end of the jetty, I wore a silly octopus hat, and we went to the candy store.  We were just silly all weekend.  We didn't do anything out of the ordinary, but we laughed and just hung out.  That's what I enjoy.  Seeing things, and enjoying people.  You can't replicate a trip with a friend.  You will never have the same conversations, experiences, etcetera.  Each trip, each adventure is new, no matter where you go.  I can't wait to see what 2099 has in store.  I would like to go to Georgia and see my sister.  I would like to go to Washington and visit my friend, Sarah (and see a Redwood tree that I can drive through).  Those are really my only two that I may go do.  well, Galveston is always a last minutes weekend trip several times a year.  Over Christmas, my kids and I would decided that we would like to go somewhere for Christmas next year instead of sitting around doing all of the usual  gift exchange, eggnog and board games.  We shall see!  I am so excited to do some more traveling!

It was a while back while planning one of my trips that my friend and I wandered into a conversation about Lasts.  Stay with me for a second.  A Last would be anything that never happened again...that was as clear as mud.  My apologies, kind of hard to explain.  You can't prepare for your Last in your life.  You do not know when you will pick up your child from school for the last time.  You don't know the last time you will feed them as babies.  You do not know the last time you will drive.  You do not know when your last kiss will be.  You do not know when your last dance in the rain will be.  You can't prepare for these things.  As your children become more independent (walking, cooking, driving, working, etc.)  you will have more and more Lasts.  As people in your life move on or pass away, you will have more Lasts.  You can't prepare for these.  There is really no way to predict or enjoy the last time you will drive your kiddo to school.  This  is a fantastic reason to travel, plans outings, make game night a thing, go for walks with friends of neighbors, go play Bingo, go do everything that you never did because you don't know when it'll be your last day to walk, fly, drive, or breathe.   Go.  Go do things.  Go see things.  Go see and do things with family and friends.  Enjoy your Lasts because you don't know when or where they will happen.

Dear Mom

Dear Mom,
     I have so much to tell you.  I have so much that I need to say...to someone.  Being without you doesn't get easier.  There are scriptures that you knew off of the top of your head.  I need some of those right now.  I know that I can search for scripture and the one(s) that I need will be oh so clear.  Isn't it strange that you could have read a scripture 100 times only to read it one more time and it becomes something completely different?  It's called the living word for a reason.
     I miss you so much, Mom.  The last 5 years have kind of been a blur.  Everything has happened so quickly.  I realized yesterday that maybe I haven't mourned your death.  I'm not even sure how that works.  I have always been very careful with my emotions.  I don't let anyone get too close.  I try to keep my emotions organized.  I like nice and neat. I don't like clutter in my life and that includes my emotions.  I'm not emotionless...I just keep them in a steel lock box, and I keep that box in a vault. Maybe I wasn't always like that...?  You're not here to ask.  Keeping my emotions in a lock box seems easier.  That way people can't get to them.  I have no idea.  Once someone sees your emotions, you become vulnerable.  I'm not sure if I believe that completely.  I know that I believe it right now.  Today. 
    I still feel sad that you didn't get to survive breast cancer.  I'm sorry.  I'm so glad that you weren't here to see what I went through.  I still have a hard time with it.  I still have some surgeries to do.  I've chosen to wait.  I am thinking maybe next year.  Maybe the year after that. 
     The kids are doing well.  Mom, you wouldn't believe how big Brian is.  He was only 11 when you passed away.  He's driving now.  He will graduate next school year.  He's still an incredible baseball player...I don't tell him that.  I just tell him to work harder and that he's doing good.  He fights to be an asset to his team.  His career choices change from week to week.  I think he's trying to figure out what is a good fit for him. I don't care what he decides to do after college or what he goes to school for.  I truly believe that if you love your job, you never work a day in your life.  Chelsea is about to be 25.  It's crazy to me.  She is still the same ole Chelsea.  Sunshine sprinkled with cayenne. Hahahaha!  They spent this last weekend with me.  It was good to have them home. 
     I am remodeling my house again.  I have some repairs that need to be made.  They are things that I can do myself...things that you taught me how to do.  Nothing major, but we both know that I am not a huge fan of manual labor.  Brian is putting up a new fence.  This is his first time. It's the first time he's used a saw or a level.  It's good for him to learn those things. I am going to build the gate sometime this week...I've been saying that for 2 weeks.  *shrugs*  I think I am going to put a gate on both sides, so getting this first one done will be good practice for the other side with is going to be about 2 foot wider.  This is the kind of stuff you'd tackle if you were here.  You were always really good at building anything. 
     I went to sit by your headstone the other day.  I went alone.  I spoke to you like you were there.  I had a hard time doing so.  I sat there for about an hour. I thought about all the practical jokes that I would play on you and how irritated you would get.  Oh how I wish I could hear you one more time say, "Oh Darla Jean!".  Granny still calls me that sometimes. I thought about the times that we would play the actor/movie game that we made up.  I thought about all of us dancing around the house to 60s & 70's music.  I thought about your ridiculous amount of Christmas trees each year.  I thought about how you made a cup of coffee, 4 tablespoons of sugar, and water to cool it down. I thought about your terrible spaghetti sauce, and the sweet tea that everyone loved so much.   I thought about your amazing voice as you would sing Carol King or Helen Reddy hits. Mom, I miss you and I don't think that ever goes away.  I don't think it gets easier. 
     I let go of God's hand a couple of years ago.  I was angry for so many reasons.  I'm going to find it again.  I'm going to do that because I need Him.  I need Him everyday, and I should have never let go of His hand.  I so easily fell into the secular circle.  It wasn't a choice I meant to make.  I am in the processes of just getting back on the right path with guidance from Him. 
      I love you, Mom...I miss you terribly.  It's still hard without you, and some days I can't think about you being gone....emotionally I just can't some days.
Love Darla

The battles within us

Life is so unpredictably difficult, yet seemingly delicate.

We each have our own battles.  Mine are too many to list.  I don't leave them in the past.  I carry them around with me as some sort of punishment, I guess.  I'm not alone in that.  Many people carry around their mistakes, their struggles, their thoughts.  People battle with things that we cannot see.  You have a really close friend that you see on a regular basis.  You don't know his/her every thought.  You don't know that he/she cries in a corner of their kitchen.  You don't know that they are deathly afraid of rejection.  You don't know that they have tried to overdose before.  You don't know that they felt remorse the first time they went fishing and saw a fish bleed.  You don't know that people picked on them in 1st grade.  You don't know EVERY thing about any one.  Period. You only know the battles that people are willing to share, the battles they have been able to face, defeat, or acknowledge as a lost battle. 

Lately I have been thinking a lot about Robin Williams, or more specifically, the irony in his suicide. I've known people who have attempted suicide.  Some failed, some succeeded.  His suicide struck me as devastating.  I, of course, did not know him personally. I envied him when he was alive.  His wit, his sometimes questionable humor, his laugh, and his ability to bring smiles to people.  I couldn't understand how someone so seemingly happy could want to be gone.  Serving laughter to people has always seemed important to me.  I had to read up on his life.  I wanted to understand him better, or try to maybe see a glimpse of how he was seeing the world.  I read articles where people called him selfish for committing suicide.  (I want to come back to that last sentence). He battled addiction.  It was first cocaine, and at a later time he battled with alcohol addiction. In the years before his death, reports say he was different.  The autopsy reported that he suffered from Lewy body dementia.  He was said to have been misdiagnosed with early signs of Parkinson's (while still alive).  I read up on Lewy Body dementia. It's quite scary.  Paranoia, insomnia, delusions, etc.  There is absolutely no way of knowing what he was feeling, thinking, or seeing.  People often associate depression and suicide to sadness.  It's not always like that.  Each of us is different, right?  We are all built different, wired differently. 

I want to go back to the reference sentence in the last paragraph and then I want to talk about depression and suicide...not as one.  Separately.  Because they are not necessarily related in every case as some people may think.  Ok, so the sentence that I want to go back to was in some of the things I read on Williams that regarded his suicide as selfish.  This is going to be a touchy subject.  I may get some hate mail out of this.  So, I want to step away from Robin Williams for a second and just focus on suicide being referred to as a selfish act (this is where the hate mail will stream from).  people who are suicidal are not necessarily selfish.  I'm just asking you to look at this from a slightly different perspective.  Let's use a name for a personal connection to this perspective.  We shall call him James.  Let's say James lives what society calls a "normal" life.  He works 8-5.  He's middle class, married, has children, and close friends.  He mows his yard twice a month, hates weed eating, and loves steak.  He the "typical" American man.  What people don't know about James is that his retirement took a dive.  He has a problem child who he can't relate to.  His wife works, but they rarely have time to enjoy each other as they once did.  James worries about his future, his children, his future grandchildren, his property, his mortgage, his relationship with his wife, his relationship with God, the threshold in the basement that needs to be replaced, where he left the battery to his power drill, and why his wife insists on making spaghetti once a week.  He has "normal" worries, right?  Well, here's where it gets sticky.  James worries about those things at work.  He's losing focus at work, and has for months.  He's losing focus on his relationship with God because of it too.  He is balling all of those worries together and can't separate them anymore.  They are one.  One day he goes home and the dog has chewed through the back door.  Great, another concern which requires immediate attention, therefore; leaving the other worries in his mind.  Pushing them back.  Next day, his daughter gets a 20 on a school project.  His wife wants to sit down with her when James gets home.  James is tired, and has all of these other worries, so he seems far away, disconnected, which appears to his wife as uncaring, which further pushes her away.  They both lay awake at night pondering the past.  Where did everything go wrong?  Then one of the kids is throwing up, everything again get pushed back.  These things pile up without the realization that they are even happening.  His wife and kids have left for a soccer game and to visit her mother when James decides to fix that threshold in the basement.  He goes down to get his power drill and remembers again, about the missing battery.  That's it.  It was that simple.  All of his worries come rushing in.  He sits down to collect his thoughts when all of his "what ifs" come rushing in.  He's looking around the basement which suddenly causing an overwhelming concern of how did they accumulate all of this stuff?  Why?  How?  He notices a box from when his father passed away last spring.  He opens it to find his dad's cherished pistol.  He holds the cold metal in his hand and suddenly realizes that it could all be over that fast.  Simple.  He puts the gun to his head feeling the cold barrel against his temple.  For a moment his focus is on just the feel of the trigger and how he would have no stress, no worries in just a quick second.  He has been sitting there for hours when he hears the door upstairs.  He quickly puts the gun away, but not out of his mind.  Over the next few months, James becomes obsessed with the thought of everything being done, over.  There is no other escape to him.  James sometimes closes his eyes and can still feel the icy barrel against his temple.  James still goes to work, he still has his daily worries, he still wonders why his wife is being distant, why was his son disrespectful at dinner, why was spaghetti served again, why did the dog poo on the carpet...this things continue to overwhelm him.  He becomes distant, empty, emotionless.  These feelings lead him to paranoia, anxiety, he flies off the handle, self destruction.  He starts drinking to keep himself from thinking about it.  He slips whiskey in his coke.  He thinks he's the only one that notices.  He feels alone in keeping that secret.  He feels alone even when surrounded by people.  He can't keep the worries from overtaking his mind.  He watches TV sipping his soda and whiskey, but he can't hear the television.  He can't follow the script of the television show.  His wife does see him, but hasn't been able to connect with him for some time, which has a boomerang effect because he thinks she doesn't care about any of HIS worries, even though he has not shared them with her.   He can only keep returning his mind to the gun.  Until one day his obsession with the glimpse of peace that the gun could offer overtakes him.  James is alone one day in the basement again.  Reader, you can finish that story yourself.  Now let's take this back to the opening of this paragraph.  Was James' suicide selfish?   His thoughts and worries were his family, other people.  He was in a dark hole that he couldn't escape.  James became depressed (which I will touch on in a moment).  He was overtaken by it.  Some think that James is selfish because...what?  He left his family? No.  James could have quit his job, left his wife, and moved to Montana at anytime.  The dark pit took him.  His own thoughts turned to anxious paranoia.  His thoughts turned him against himself.  His obsession with the peace the gun could provide overtook him.  To him, it was peace.  An offer of peace from the darkness within himself.  Suicide is an escape to some people.  I probably shouldn't have added depression to my story, but I am not going back to alter it now.  James was suicidal.  He was consumed by worries, depression, work, (insert whatever you want) which led to his obsession with a way out, out of his own dark hole.  Suicide for each person is different.  Every single suicide is a choice to a way out.  It's a way away from whatever is going on in that person's mind.  We can't relate to that because each of our worries is different, as is our reaction to those worries. I knew someone once that was close to me that was suicidal.  I asked her, "why would you do this to us?".  She looked at me completely baffled and said, "I'm not doing this to any one, but myself.  You don't understand what I see".  I didn't.  Not one of us completely knows or understands ANY one else completely. I personally do not think that suicide is a purposeful act of selfishness.  It took me many years to decide that.  It's a last resort for escape.  It's my opinion, and you don't have to agree.

Moving on.  Ok, so it's not as simple as one might think.  Sadness isn't always depression, depression isn't always suicidal, and suicidal isn't always related to sadness.   These three things can be very different.  My dog died a few years back...I cried.  I wasn't depressed, and I was not suicidal.  I have not yet been able to let myself replace her, so what?  I've said before, my life has not been butterflies and rainbows.  I've had ups.  I've had downs.  I've had ups that were later decidedly downs. I've had downs that have had wonderful outcomes.  Being a Christian, I know that is God.  I know that when I let go, God's hand are under mine and He takes what I've been trying to carry alone.  Now, do NOT misunderstand me.  Just because someone is a Christian does not mean they are exempt.  Christians get sad.  Christians commit suicide.  Christians battle with depression. No one is exempt. I want to focus on depression for this last paragraph.  I'd like to tell you what it looks like.  Thoughts of your life will overwhelm you.  It's worse for others, depends on how you are wired.  Agreed?  We have all had battles of our own.  Maybe your wife left you.  Maybe you got fired and didn't know how you were going to put gas in your car.  Maybe you've taken a shower to cry so that it would cover the sounds of you crying.  Maybe you have sat in your car in an empty parking lot to just sit in silence.  You have your own battles, past, present and future.  They aren't the same as your neighbors.  They aren't the same as your spouse's.  You are unique in every aspect of life.  That includes depression.  It can be brought on by a multitude of things, such as, financial stress, work load, emotions, worries, deaths, silence, loneliness, etc. Depression is hard to understand from the outside, and even more so from the inside.  It's not a feeling.  It's not an emotion.  It's a place.  It's a dark place inside of you.  A room, perhaps.  It's a place your mind goes to.  Depression is best described by me as a lonely room that your heart and mind go to.  An empty room filled with only darkness.  I once heard someone say that darkness was the basement of your mind.  You crawl down the ladder and you don't know when you will ever climb the ladder again.  It's a place.  Depression can be covered by genuine laughter.  You can have a happy day, or an hour in which you are enjoying company, but once alone again, you are back in the hole.  You can have a house filled with children's laughter only to go take that warm shower and be in the hole of depression again.  Depression doesn't mean you aren't a happy person.  It means there is a door to a dark place that is open, and you don't know how to close it.  People battling depression are really in a fight, a battle.  They don't chose it.  No one wants to be depressed and some people do not even know what it is that may have caused their bout with depression.  It can happen for long periods of time, or short periods.  You don't get to chose. It's not a person, it doesn't chose you.  It's a place that you go mentally that can be scary, sad, or even cause fits of anger.  You may wake up one day and realize that you haven't been in that dark place in a while.  It's a daily battle for those who are going through depression.  It's real.  You can't just "get happy".  I have a friend who battled with depression.  Hers was brought on my illnesses and the fear of never becoming well.  She would isolate herself, but play "happy" when around people.  She's doing much better now.  She battled for years.  When you are depressed, you can feel like you can't let people in.  They can't come in to your hole.  You have to just be there by yourself. 

I had something happen earlier today that inspired me to write this blog...I saw a video of a woman like me.  She was getting her "Vinnies"  (that was explained in a previous blog).  I often wonder if I made the right choice by having the prophylactic double mastectomy.  It's not the scars so much any more, as they are mostly faded away.  It's that I watched my mom battle and lose to breast cancer.  So,  I became angry, and sad.  Maybe it's the guilt of surviving when she didn't get that chance.  Why did I have to get this gene mutation?  I began to pray and then cry.  I cry in the corner of my kitchen.  I have a place between the stove and dishwasher where the cabinets meet.  I've sat there before in very dark times in my life (this is not one of them - it's just my comfort place)  As I sat there, I realized that I have overcome so many things in life, and God held my hand...sometimes he had to drag me.  I realized how quickly someone can become sad, emotional.  One little trigger could take anyone in to their personal depression hole.  Don't misread this.  I am good, not depressed, not worried, not any of those things...just thinking.  For me blogging or writing letters is therapy.  If it is something that I can't blog, I write a letter to myself, or God, or my mom.  It's a release for me.  I am going to end this here with helplines at the bottom.  If any of you reading this ever need someone to talk to, but don't know where to go, or who would listen, there are people.  There are people that don't have a clue who you are, but chose to work suicide helpline, or crisis line.  May God put that one particular person there on the other end of the line just for you.

Be nice to people.  Be nice to all people.  You have no idea what their battles are.

National Suicide Prevention helpline 1-800-273-8255
Suicide Prevention/ Depression Hotline 1-630-482-9696
National Crisis Helpline 1-800-784-2433
Don't want to talk?  You can text the Crisis text line at 741-741

If you have battled depression and would like to donate to the about hotlines go to www.spsamerica.org and click the donate button.

((hugs))

Topless? Let's do it.

The last few months have been so crazy busy.  Trying to get back into the swing of life.  It's baby steps after a major transition in one's life to get back to the norm. 

Today I feel good.  I'm at the point where I can lay on my tummy to sleep for a little bit.  Since the mastectomy, i have found that it is taking a long time for my body to adjust to me and for me to adjust to my body.  I still have good days and bad days.  The scars are no longer red.  They are a light pink color.  Somedays, I look in the mirror at my breasts and thingk "yes, girl, you did it! Look at those battle scars!"**insert high five**  Then there are days when I stand in front of the mirror seeing mutilation and gnawed skin. 

I think that this is a good time for a life reflection.  So, hear me out.  The things that we do, see, experience, live, touch, each day are just scars in our life.  Each memory is a little piece of who you are, and little scar in your life. Look at your body.  Each marking and scar belong to a memory in your life.  Some of our scars can't be seen. We have all been through something emotional that scars you.  Things that maybe still hurt years after they happened.  My mother died 4 years ago.  It still hurts.  Some scars are visible.  I have a small scar on my knee where I crashed a scooter in 5th grade in front of my friend Rhonda's house.   We do smells in the same manor.  Smells are memories.  To this day, the smell of a new doll takes me back to childhood Christmases and opening a new Barbie.   Everything in your life...everything is a piece of who you are.  That carved into my brain, connected to a memory, a different time in your life.  Scars don't have to be bad.  Scars (emotional or physical) have created our life.  They can be good or bad.  Good smells can trigger bad memories, and bad scars can trigger good memories.  Until we learn to embrace our scars, we can't be proud of them nor are we capable of ever showing them off.  I think that last sentence explains my mastectomy scars.  Perhaps I have not embraced them completely which is why somedays I dread seeing them.  It was a battle, just as each scar in one's life.  It's also hard for other people to understand your scars in life both physical and emotional because it wasn't their scar to carry.  It wasn't a memory for their story, in their life book.  

My employer is a spncer of the Susan G Koman 5K in Austin.  I have never participated.  Last October, I should have, but wasn't sure if I could do that long of a walk.  I wasn't sure of the event.  I had just done a very painful surgery for my breasts. It was just overwhelming.  I have made a final decision for the 5K this year.  I will be there.  I will be topless.  I will show my scars.  It's still hard for me to talk about the mastectomy, thereore I think the scars are a reminder that I'm not yet completely comfortable.  Sooooo, bring it on.  I have one nipple that I will cover with a sticker.  I am thinking a half breast cancer (for my mom) and half BRCA (teal) ribbon to cover it.  The other side is the nastier scar, and missing a nipple, and i really don't think people see mastectomy scars. I think that people go to the runs to support their loved ones, but never really see the physical scars.  I think that maybe people have seen them, but they aren't pretty.  It's not something uplifting and encouraging to see.  People don't google mastectomy sacrs unless they are about to join the mastecomy club.  I've thought that I can put googley craft eyes above the scar, or something silly.  I see those scars everyday.  I think that allowing myself to boldly walk a 5K with my scars, I am showing people that it doesn't have to be hidden.  It's part of my story.  How many people didn't get to carry mastectomy scars?  How many people were diagnosed and died of breast cancer before they got a chance to have a mastectomy?  No visible scars.  Those people would have gladly carried around these scars. I'm doing this.  Topless.  I am doing the 5K in October topless.  It's happening.  I'm scared, I'm nervous, but I am going to be proud of this battle for all of those who didn't get the chance to battle.  They are part of me, my life story, my scars, my memories.   I can't change the scars, so I will embrace them. 

Mastectomy (part 2)

Whew!!! What a ride this year has been!!  I would have to say that this year certainly may be one of the hardest of my life.   2013 tops the list.  That was the year mom died, and the my sister was in the hospital in a drug induced coma while fighting for her life against pneumonia.  This year has also been on for emaotional, physical, and spritual battles.

I am writing this blog as part 2 of the mastectomy blog.  I wrote part one at 39 days post mastectomy.  By the time I wrote that blog, I had already had another surgery.  Documenting this journey is important because later I can look back at how I felt, where I was emotionally.  I know that this gets easier...it's begun to get better, but still have a ways to go. 

Three weeks post mastecomy, I was able to wash my own hair.  It was a much slower process, but I could do it.  I was thrilled to bathe myself, and wash my own hair.  I bought some fancy expensive salon shampoo because I deserved a little treat, right?  After a couple of washes, I noticed that my left breast didn't look so good.  The skin was turning black near the incision.  I texted a picture to my doctor.  She said to come in to the office.  Some of the skin was dying.  I knew this could happen.  There was many girls on the BRCA FB page that this had happened to.  She put me on some high powered antibiotics.  I was unable to take a real bath.  I just sat in waist deep water, as my breast were not to be submerged.  I was sitting there one night, taking my bath and was reading the bottles in the bathtub.  One of the ingredients on the fancy new shampoo was aloe.  I'm not alergic to many things, but aloe is one of them. I messaged the doctor immediately to let her know that I thought this might be an allergic reaction to shampoo and not an infection.  Boom! Just like that I was scheduled for surgery.  March 10th, I went to the hospital.  I can't recall who was there with me, but I want to say it was Granny, Chelsea, Greg and 2 of my close friends, Loris and Anita.  I went to pre-op after a heated argument in the lobby with the insurance company over my name.  Always a pain to explain the reason for all the first names. I just tell people jokingly that I was born in the 70's and that my mom was on a lot of drugs so I have lots of first names. :)  Anyway, I went back for surgery and chit chatted with the nurses before they gave me the sleepytime meds. One of the nurses was the same one from the first surgery.   When I woke up, I felt much clearer than I did after the first surgery...this time I made sure to tell them not give me much in the way of anesthesia.  I don't take any meds, so I'm super sensitive to most of them.  My chest hurt pretty bad, and I felt really cold. It was not a tolerable pain.  The doctor came in.  She told me that they had to take more than they were anticipating.  I had had an allergic reaction and my skin was dying.  The expander was not affected and I was able to keep it in. She had to remove my left nipple and a lot of skin. The skin issue was not really a big deal as I was hoping to be smaller busted after all of this surgery. Before all of this, at my heaviest weight of 190, I was an E cup.  At the time of the mastectomy, I was 147lbs with a bra size of  DD.  During this emergency surgery, they cut both sides again to make sure the same problem was not present on the right side as well.  Each side was going to have to be packed with lubricated gauze, and then wrapped each day.  I wasn't able to wrap myself.  Lots of people came to help, and Greg was able to stay with me quite a bit and help me with tasks.  I was again not able to bathe, reach up, lift, wash my hair, or bend over because my chest muscles were sore all over again.  I was still sleeping in the recliner that I had purchased just before the mastectomy.  I still had two drains.  The drains were probably the worst part of all of it.  They pulled at my skin constantly.  I could always feel them.  I had to pack them as well to give them a little cushion against my skin.  The stiches would poke me if I moved wrong, and they are just gross to carry around with you under your shirt.  I had to end up having two of the drains for 8 weeks.  That's quite a bit longer than was expected, but I kept having fluid build up.  Three weeks after the emergency surgery, I had my first fill in my expanders.  It wasn't terrible.  I was sore for about 3 days and worked from home. She put 50ccs in each side which is a small fill.  Not terrible.  A fill is where the doctor puts a needle through the breast and the port of the expander to strech the muscle out slowly.  I would need to have several more of these.

One morning in early April, I woke up at 4am for work.  My hand was against my right breast and was wet and sticy.  It was dark and my immediate thought was that I was bleeding.  I got up and went to the bathroom to find that it was a clear fluid.  It looked as though it had been happening for a few hours based on the amount that was coming out of a tiny hole in the incision.  I packed the insision and went to work.  I sent a message on the web portal to my doctor. She responded fairly quickly, and wanted me to come in that afternoon.  She stiched my where the small hole was.  She put a waterproof wrap on it, so that I'd be able to shower.  A week later, I had what would end up being my last fill.  I was in a lot of pain.  I was having a hard time controling the pain.  Later that month, an emergency came up and I was probably not really taking care of myself the way I should have.  I was pushing my limits.  I was not at home for a few months after that. I was still doing photography sessions...which may have been what put me over the edge.  My chest seemed to never stop cramping.  I was contantly in mild pain.  I was not taking pain meds so that I could drive.  I was doing a ton of driving which I also probably shouldn't have been doing.  The doctor decided to let me settle down with the amount of fluid that was in the expanders.  Weeks later, I was sitll in pain.  It was just not managable.  Expanders are heavy and very hard.  The material is thick, the port magnet is heavy.  They poke you on the inside, they ripple, and they are just absolutely uncomfortable.  Bending over would hurt tremendously because of the weight of the expanders being behind my muscle.  My muscles had never had weight underneath them.  It was similar to getting charlie horses in your leg...only these were on my chest.  Simple tasks would cause these horrific muscle cramps. 

On May 31st, I went in for my appointment thinking I was doing another fill.  After examining me, the doctor decided that my body was just not doing well with the expanders and my muscles were trying to push them.  We were going to go back in to surgery.  I had 3 days to prep.  That was on a Tuesday, and I was on the operating table Friday June 3rd for exchange surgery.  At this point, I was ready to be done.  There had been so many complications.  The exchange surgery was removal of the expanders and placement of the permanant implants.  The implants would much bigger than the expanders because we did not finish the fills of the expanders to stretch the chest muscles. I knew I'd be in severe discomfort.  She was going to have to stretch the muscle when putting in the implants.  The left pectoral muscle was not cooperating and needed to be cut (not sure who told me that) to fit the implant underneath.  The muscle was just over worked and very thick.  I had been doing photo shoots, back to work full time, driving, and household tasks.  I think these things led to that muscle being overworked.  After surgery, she did tell me that she could tell I was overdoing it.  Maybe she didn't know what "regular life" was for me when she told me that I could get back to it. 

Here I am, eight months post mastectomy and four months post exchange surgery.  I still have a little bit of discomfort.  The implants have settled, and aren't as stiff as they were.  The muscles are relaxing and getting used to having weight behind them.  Chest cramps are less often.  I think it's been 2 weeks since the last one. I only have one nipple.  It bothered me at first.  There was a time when I couldnt' bear to see myself and I covered the bathroom mirror with wrappng paper.  This wasn't just a physical challange.  This was an emotional beat down.  I remember the words of someone I used to care about.  They said, "You're making a big deal out of this.  It doesn't matter what you look like anyway, you wear clothes that will cover it.  You'll be fine".  Yeah?  Hahaha! I have winking boobies!! I've come to think that's ok.  It's kind of funny.  Before I knew that I was having a nipple sparing mastectomy, I told my best friend, Nat, that we were going to go to Schlitterbahn and I was going to lose my top and start yelling "Who has my nipples?? Have you seen my nipples??" *shrugs* It's still funny. 

I will eventually have both nipples.  I'm not in a hurry for the left one.  I have the right one.  I have some feeling in both breasts.  It's minimal, and kind of tingly, but it's there.  The nerves are still rebuilding.  I am still recovering.  Monday I will go in for the reconstruction part.  This is the part where she will make them look and feel more real. I want them to be more jiggly like natural breasts. I want them to look like natural breasts.  I have always been blessed in the fact that I don't scar poorly.  I'm only 4 months post exchange and the scars on the left are already white and thin.  The right side has a little redness in the middle of the scar, but it has already begun to fade on the left side of the right breast.  You have to look closely to see it.   I'm so close to the end.  I'm so close to being done.  I have also decided that the oopherectomy is just not right for me right now.  I will do ovarian scans for now once a year.  There is no way to detect ovarian cancer.  My OB/GYN said that the scans are better than nothing, but not a method of early detection.  I'm just not ready right now.  Next year may be the year, and I may wait ten years. Putting it out of my mind for right now has brought great relief. Huge.

I am thinking next year I will have her rebuild the left nipple and then I will go get my Vinnies!  I blogged about that previously.  If you didn't read that one then here is a link to see Vinnie's work. http://www.today.com/video/tattoos-for-breast-cancer-survivors-finding-vinnie-myers-feeling-whole-545692227516 I will just use some vacation time next year, go see some sights, and get my tattoos while I'm there.

I don't really have bad days anymore.  I have moments that I am overwhelmed by all of this, but not like before.  I couldn't have known that it would take so long.  I couldn't have prepared for all the complications.  I'm confident that God knows what He's doing and that the timing of all of this is perfect. I didn't blog much during this process just due to a lot of craziness that life brought.  I'm thinking the next 6 months (ish)...life will start becoming more of what I'll be able to call normal. :)

Broken

Life isn't always what you picture.*Sniffle*

No one looks the way they picture. As a photographer, I feel that I edit people to look the way that I see them. The way that they see themselves. As a photographer, I have edited tens of thousands of pictures. I've seen every body type. I've seen double chins, pooches, flabby arms, chubby thighs, freckles, lazy eyes, and non-symmetrical faces.

In February of this year I had a double mastectomy. I posted an earlier blog that was titled part one. I am not sure that I will do a part two. Right now I am trying my best to hold on. I am trying to hold onto life, hope, love, Faith, and myself.

I look at myself in the mirror. I see myself every day. Naked. There is only one person that sees me naked other than myself. He loves me for my heart, not for my body. I can't help but think that that's a good thing. I think that my body looks horrific. I hate to look at myself. My breasts are scarred. I had to have reconstructive surgery two weeks ago. I don't love the outcome. I know that I am not finished with plastic surgery. I do know that I stand in front of the mirror every single day after my shower, And the woman I see is not who I feel that I am. My life has always been scarred. I had a rough childhood. My teenage years were  nothing less than disastrous, embarrassing to say the least. Maybe this is the way my life is supposed to be, scarred. I can't help but think that if you do not go through things in your life that you can't help others later that are going through the same thing. Right now I look at myself, naked, and I hate my body. I have my breasts. They are scarred. They are the correct shape. I have one nipple. I hate the way I look. I want to say that I should have pride knowing that I won't die of breast cancer the way that my mother did. I should have pride knowing that my children won't have to see me the way that I saw my mother. I should have pride knowing that I will not die from breast cancer. I should have pride knowing that I made the right choice. I should have pride and no way that I am not identified by breasts.

As a woman, it is hard to hate your body. There is one girl in particular that I know... She had weight-loss surgery. She had several surgeries to help her lose weight, or to make her body look better. She is still not happy with her body. She still cries. The loose skin bothers her. Every woman hates her body. I'm thankful for the small things in life but I am a woman... I hate my body. It's hard to live like this.  This is NOT something that you can explain to someone. This is not something that people in your day-to-day life will understand. I can only relate to people like me. I can only relate to people for BRCA+ like me. I know I still have a long way to go on reconstruction. I know that my breast will not look like this forever. I know that I will get used to not having any sensation. And know that I will get used to the way they look.

I'm thankful that God has given me life I am thankful that God loves me. I am thankful that God hears me. And I am thankful God knows the desires of my heart. For those things alone I have thanks.

Double Mastectomy (part 1)

I think it's been two months since I've blogged.  I guess I haven't had much to say.  I have wanted to blog...mostly to record my journey through the surgery.  I was going to just keep it as a draft in diary form i.e.: Day 1, Day 2, etc.  I had no idea what was in store for me...that just wasn't realistic.

January 11th was my date I was scheduled for surgery.  I didn't like the date because it was the date that my niece passed away.  I didn't want to take that date from my sister, but it was the dates that the doctors chose.  My sister didn't mention anything about the date or that she was uncomfortable with it.  January 11th was a Monday.  The week prior, we had been playing "what if" game.  What if Darla wasn't at work.  That didn't go over well at all.  My assistant ended up getting sick Wednesday.  He threw up and was running fever.  I had to send him home.  I could not risk getting sick a few days before surgery. So, my office went into over load with him being out.  No biggie, I've done it before many times.  He was out Thursday and again Friday.  Thursday I had a scratchy throat, nothing major.  I just felt that I needed a drink.  Friday my assistant called to let me know he went to the doctor because he felt he was close to death (he actually said that), and he was diagnosed with strep. Lovely.  It was around 3pm, and my doctor's office was about to close.  I called and spoke to the nurse.  She said that I needed to go to the closest Scott & White clinic and be tested immediately.  I left work right then to be tested.  She kind of frightened me.  They did a swab, and while waiting on the results, the doctor said my throat looked fine, not pink and no pus. Good news. The nurse came in to tell us that I tested positive for strep.  What?!?! I felt fine.  Even the doctor said, "Really?" and proceeded to check my throat again.  I called the surgeon's nurse back to let her know.  She said that surgery would have to be cancelled, and she would let the surgeons know and get back with me on Monday.  Monday morning I get a call from one of the surgeons that they were all waiting for me in surgery.  I told her what happened...she was very mad at that nurse.  The nurse never informed anyone.  I also never got sick from strep.  I only had a scratchy throat for 2 days.  No, fever, no cough, nothing.  I rarely get sick anyway.  Maybe a cold once every year or two.  I've never had pneumonia, bronchitis, strep, the flu, nothing.  I rarely get sick. I've only had food poisoning once...ick...I wont be blogging about that. Anyway, so...cancelled.  The surgeon said she call me in a few days to let me know when we would reschedule.  It was two surgeons, two physicians assistance, an anesthesiologist, and an operating room that had to be rescheduled. 

Rescheduled for February 11th.  The day after the anniversary of my mother's death.  This was going to be hard...I already missed my mom and wished she could be there. I was having a hard time with that prior to surgery.  So, there the wait and the countdown began again. 

The week before (at work) went flawlessly.  I had my list of caretakers on my fridge, phone numbers, emergency contacts, emergency medical contacts in Taylor, food was stocked and meals were premade.  Two weeks of 24 hour care, and I felt as prepared as I could be.  I am a member of a FB page for people that are BRCA+. I had my essentials for the hospital, bath char for the shower, new removable shower head, all laundry done, and I bought a recliner (and do NOT picture some nasty Laz-Y Boy recliner in my house).  I had every thing on the prep list.  My surgery was scheduled for a Thursday so I was able to work the day before and keep my mind busy.  I wasn't scared.  I was nervous.  I've never had surgery, never been under anesthesia before.  I mean, come on...I had my wisdom teeth pulled on my lunch break, and gave birth to Chelsea with no medication. I really had no idea what to expect. I have a high tolerance to pain and I have a great immune system.  Surely, I would be like some of the girls on the BRCA page that were back to work in 2 weeks.  No problem.  Well....that's not exactly how that went.

Surgery day:  I was scheduled for 10am I believe.  I had to get there an hour early to check in, do blood work and pregnancy test.  Ummm...ok. My granny drove me there.  My boyfriend was there, my daughter, and three of my close friends.  I went back to the pre-op room to get naked.  One of my surgeons came in, and drew lines and measurements for the surgeon that was going to actually cut me open.  I was nervous and cold.  That was it. Everyone came in a got to see me before I went back.  The only thing I remember was a lady that was wheeling the bed to the operating room.  I jokingly said, "You know this is my last time with boobs, so I'm going to flash everyone we see."  She quickly responded, "Oh, please don't do that!".  She left her sense of humor at home that day, I guess.  Meh.  Anyway, the surgery took 6 hours. All breast tissue was removed, my muscle was lifted from my chest and expanders were placed underneath.  OH MY GOSH!!! I almost forgot this part:  back in January the Reconstructive surgeon told me that she was going to do a different kind of incision and I would get to keep my nipples! I remember I wrote a blog last year or year before that was title "Will I have nipples".  So I was excited that they were going to look like I've always looked...well, not at first, but eventually, and I'd have my own nipples!  Okay, Okay, back on track.  I told the anesthesiologist that I didn't need a lot.  I told him that I don't take meds so I'm super susceptible to ANY medication.  Uh huh.  He didn't listen.  It took me 2 1/2 hours to wake up after surgery.  I don't remember the recovery room or anything about it really.  When I woke up Chelsea, Brian and Greg were standing there looking at me.  Awkward.  They had actually just walked in at the right time.  Greg couldn't stay long.  He had his kids and they weren't allowed in there.  Brian and Chelsea stayed the night with me.  Throughout the night I was given Norco (never had it before).  It made me sick.  I would dry heave every time I stood up.  The next morning the doctor (Her name is Staci) came in and changed the meds.  No one had notified her that I was dry heaving which hurt my chest muscles tremendously. She changed me over to Tramadol for pain. 

Lets change gears for a second.  Lets talk about the nurse who must hate her job.  I can't remember her name, so we shall call her Shirley. She was the nurse when I first woke up.  She asked me if I wanted a drink. Yes. The cup was full of ice water and the lid is not leak proof.  I was sitting up but not in an upright position. She leaned the cup towards me and poured water on my chest.  I tried to take a deep breath, but hadn't learned to do that yet without the chest muscles.  She calmly looked around and said "hmmm. No towels.  I'll be back."  I am still trying to breath and I'm there alone during this time. Shirley casually comes back in with a towel and PATS my CHEST!! Holy Mary Mother of God!!!  Later that evening my chest was hurting on the left side pretty bad, so Shirley gets an ice pack.  Sounds good to me. Well...she fumbled it and accidently dropped it...on my chest. When I went to the bathroom (to pee) Shirley didn't wipe me and I couldn't reach.  Uhhhh...ok.  I mean, hey I'm not wearing panties, so maybe air dry would work.  Ick. My daughter complained on Shirley.  We didn't see her again.  Praise Jesus!

Back to the story: So the next morning the doctor had changed me over to Tramadol for pain.  Apparently the nursing staff thought this was at my request.  I thought one of the IV bags was pain meds, so I never said a word.  I was just in a lot of pain.  My chest felt tight.  There was a lot of pressure like someone sitting on me.  It was difficult to take deep breaths.  The pain in my chest especially while trying to sit up was excruciating. You have to learn how to use other muscles to assist you. I also had four drains.  the drains are suctioned bulbs on the end of a tube to pull fluid from my chest.  I had two on each side.  They were wired into my skin about 4 inches below the bend of my armpit.  They hurt, but it wasn't too terrible.  I just couldn't reach or twist in any way. When the doctor cam in at 4pm, she looked in the computer and realized they hadn't given my pain meds all day. Nice!! So, she put me on the lowest dose of Tramadol and 1/2 of the lowest dose of Valium (for muscle spasms). She told me that everyone says the 3rd day after surgery is the worst, but for me it was that day.  12 hours out of surgery and no meds.  I was thinking that was awesome because now a low dose of meds would be great.  I hate medication.  I do NOT like putting that junk in my body.  I wanted to get off of those ASAP which would be easy with a low dosage.  Once on the meds, I was extremely uncomfortable, but I could wipe myself and slowly get out of bed. I am short, so the bed was an issue from the get go.  God didn't give me very long legs. The next day at the hospital was just baby steps, getting up, getting a drink, reaching, breathing exercises, and just general movements.  Chelsea and Brian were there the whole time.  They hospital even brought in a roll out bed for Chelsea.  Brian slept on the couch.  I had to stay an extra night to make sure the meds were sufficient. I went home Saturday afternoon. 

to be continued....

I am writing this blog at 39 days post op from Double Mastectomy.  I am only 11 days post op from emergency surgery which I will explain in the next blog. 

Our memories go with us

Sometimes I think too much. I'm alone a lot, so I have plenty of time to think. We've all done it. We've all sat too long, dwelled on everything, anything too long. 

I plan to put my house on the market in the next few months. I am hoping to do so by this summer. I should be all healed up by then. Some people don't think so, but I refuse to be down that long. I'll shock everyone with how fast God heals me after the surgeries. Watch and see. Anyway...I need to clean stuff out. I really wanted to get it all done before the first surgery but that's next week.  Procrastination is a hobby of mine. *wink* I was going through some boxes in the guest room. I saw an album on top that I had never seen before. It was blue. My name was written at the top. The curiosity in me was overwhelming. I took off the rubber band that bound the album. The first group of pictures was a place I didn't recognize. I continued through the album recognizing people from my childhood. One person I recognized but have never met. He passed away before I was born. I continued to turn the pages only to see so many people that are gone. These are people who were my family. People who cared about me, loved me. I have no idea where this album came from. I was flooded with memories of these people, my family. There were only five people in the entire album that are still alive today. Five. Who will remember all of these people when I'm gone? Our memories go with us. I thought of my granny. My heart aches for her. These were her siblings, her aunt, her parents, her daughter. She wouldn't like me to spread any of her business...or to blog about it. I love her so much and I can't imagine what she has had to endure. Just looking at this one album has really tugged at my heart. I'll cherish this album forever. I still have no idea where it came from. I think my name written on the front is Granny's handwriting. I can't remember her ever giving this to me. Isn't it cool when God gives you things, or let's you see them? At just he perfect time. His time is always perfect. 

I'm the baby in the picture attached. My mother is holding me. Granny is behind mom. Grandma and grandpa (granny's parents) are to the left. And to the right of my mom is my uncle Rick. He was granny's brother. Only me and Granny left from this picture. I'm so thankful for my Granny. I have no idea where I'd be if it weren't for her. The greatest person I've ever known. 

Dec11 Dwight Yoakam

It's been a while since I've blogged.  I'm not 100% sure why.  Maybe I don't have anything to talk about.  Maybe I have so much that I've just needed to sort it out in my head.  Maybe I've just been busy.  This is a season filled with holidays, family, friends, thankfulness, and cheer. 

Facebook: I haven't been on FB much in the last few months.  Life is much nicer without everyone else's drama. We each have enough going on in our own lives not to worry about some one else's.  I used to like FB and tell people that it was a good opportunity to pray for people you know, and to spread good memes and positive thoughts.  There's a lot of garbage on there.  It's nice to step away from all of that for a while.  I have missed everyone's daily things they are thankful for in November.  I've missed not seeing the pictures of people's decorated Christmas trees. I don't think I've missed much else.  There's always someone fighting on there.  Somebody blocked so and so.  Drama. Drama. 

Thanksgiving: For Thanksgiving I went to my Granny's house.  I'm glad that we decided last minute to do that.  I love going out to my Granny's.  We had laughs, chats, and more food than we could eat.  I missed not seeing Chelsea and Danielle on Thanksgiving. This is the first year I've not had either of them.  Desi and I decided that we needed to find Mom's Thanksgiving table runner.  The Thanksgiving runner...that makes me smile.  Mom loved Thanksgiving and Christmas.  She over decorated each year.  It was her "thing". :)  One year she made a table runner for thanksgiving.  Every person that came to Thanksgiving at Mom's had to wrote on the runner.  We had to write what we were thankful for, our name, and the year.  I looked for the runner in the boxes with Mom's place mats and chargers, nothing.  I looked in the box with the Thanksgiving China.  I found the silverware we used to use, but not the runner.  I saw a box that said "Darla, Desi, Danielle - open at Christmas together".  It was my handwriting.  I didn't remember this box or writing that on there.  I had to peek.  I cut through all the tape.  When I opened the box, I was on the phone with Desi.  Mom's gold Christmas chargers were stacked neatly in the center of the box.  Beside them there was a zip-lock bag with a light brown material in it.  On the bag was written "Thanksgiving table runner".  I wept softly.  I wasn't in the mood to be thankful.  Mom would have been disappointed because there is always SOMETHING to be thankful for. All of that, and who forgot to take the runner to Thanksgiving? *sigh* Meh.  Maybe wasn't supposed to be there this year.  It has been in that box almost 3 years now.  It'll go back in there until next year.

I did my last (for a while) photography shoot Saturday.  I'm thankful for the break, but also sad.  I really love capturing people. I really love it.  I haven't had a break from it in almost 5 years.  It's probably going to be weird to not have any shoots scheduled and no editing to do. Free time in the evening is not something I've had in a very long time.

My mom would have been disappointed that I waited until the week of Christmas to put up my tree...again this year.  I'm so very thankful that Granny bought me a little tree last year.  It made it not seem to be as big of a task. Without kids, it's seems a bit ridiculous to put up a big ole tree.  I'm not like my mom.  I don't have the time or the desire to put up 4-5 Christmas trees like she did. That was ridiculous in my opinion anyway.  She was so good at Christmas.  She would work with all the grandkids for a month preparing a Christmas play.  Those were so much fun.  Every year the tree in the sitting room was filled with memories.  Each of us had several ornaments that we had to put on the tree ourselves...yes even as adults.  That tree was the biggest one in the house. That tree was put up on The Saturday after Thanksgiving every year. Mom did all the other trees herself.  The other ones were like specialty trees, I guess. My favorite one was the one in the upstairs hallway.  It was a small tree, may be 3 foot. It was decorated in light pink, white and silver. The ornaments consisted of angels, balls, ribbons and bows.  My mother would hand make all of the bows on all of the trees.  I am not sure why that one was my favorite.  I think maybe it looked soft and sweet, maybe that was because of the colors she used.  I've never told anyone that I loved that tree. I sat the other day looking at my decorated tree and thought of two things: 1) I did it wrong all these years, and 2) I wish I had one of those angels from Mom's upstairs tree to hang on it.  My tree is different this year.  I picked out all of the memorable stuff.  I hung memories on the tree. I'm missing some because I didn't get down the boxes from the attic.  Mom's big tree in the sitting room had some amazing memories on it.  I wish I knew where those ornaments were.  I hope that box didn't go in the donation pile when we cleaned out her house.  There were wedding ornaments, birth ornaments, first Christmas ornaments, kindergarten ones, hand made grandkid ones, ugly ones, crocheted ones, and so many more.  We each had to hang the ornaments the represented our lives.  I had to hang my 1977 one.  I had one that was a one eyed reindeer that I made in kindergarten.  Those are the two I can remember most.  I have a few things on my tree that used to be on that tree.  The Christmas before Mom died, she sat down and went through important Christmas stuff that she wanted us to take right then.  I didn't feel like we should because Mom wasn't gone.  She was very sick, but not gone yet.  She insisted.  I remember that she gave me Little Granny's hand crocheted ornaments.  They are on my tree this year.  Little Granny was my Gramp's grandmother.  She was my great-great-grandmother.  Many people don't get the opportunity to meet their great-great-grandparents.  I think next year I will do it much differently.  Next year My tree will be only memory ornaments.  Mine of course wont be as extravagant as my mother's was.  I think that comes with age.  The older we get the more memories we collect. That's the way life works, right? :)

California:  I recently went to California for the first time.  I've always been neutral about California, not desire to go, but no reason not to.  A couple months ago my boyfriend had asked if I had any shoots on the weekend December 11-13th.  I did not.  He told me to mark off those days and that he was taking me somewhere.  Told me that I would need to be ready to leave work at 11am on the 11th which was a Friday. He said it was a surprise and never told me one detail or hint.  I assumed we were going to Wimberly for the weekend since we had talked about that before.  I never questioned him.  Friday the 11th was kind of a tough day.  It marked one month until surgery.  I didn't tell anyone that it was on my mind.  At 11am, he drove us to the airport.  That kind of ruled out my Wimberly assumption.  He handed me the boarding pass and told me that we were going to Dallas but that it was not our destination. We had a beer and some hot dogs at the airport at Earl Campbell's Sports Bar.  I had eaten there before.  The flight was short and uneventful.  When we landed in Dallas, he handed me my boarding pass and asked where we were going.  It said Los Angeles.  That's odd. He told me that was not our final destination, and that we would be renting a car a driving to where we were going.  Friday when we left he did tell me that the activity we would be doing on Friday night was something I've always wanted to do. *shrugs* We played a word game together on our flight there. Anyway, so we get to LA, and go to the rental car place.  I stood back a little.  He was very adamant with the rental guy about a car he had reserved.  The guy fixed the problem, and we went out to a brand new Lincoln MKX.  I super love these cars.  I'm too cheap to ever own one, but they are really nice.  I was impressed with the heated steering wheel. Uh yeah. Seriously. Anyway, we drove about 45 minutes.  It was already dark, so didn't get to see any of the scenery.  (Side note: We both really enjoy old buildings and their history)  He pointed and said, "That's where we are going" as we pulled up at this super old building with a long line of people out side. The building was beautiful.  Early 1900's.  The architecture was incredible. I told him this.  I don't always catch on immediately.  He actually had to say, "I wonder who's playing".  We were driving slowing and I read the marque "Dec11 Dwight Yoakam".  This is my absolute all time favorite male vocalist, and I think he is super sexy.  I think it's more of how mysterious he is, that's probably because he keeps his hat low and his head down.  I enjoy watching him dance a lot, and his voice is absolutely awesome!!  I was so excited reading that marque that I may have squealed. We parked a few blocks down and head to the line to get in.  The building was so detailed and gorgeous.  It was the Ventura Theater.  Stunning architecture. We were in the balcony.  We were at the rail, so we were able to see quite well.  The show was incredible! He played new stuff, old stuff, and two songs from other artists.  His voice is just awesome. I could listen to him all day.  He danced, he played several guitars, and sang his little hiney off. He is a fantastic performer. I was wowed to say the least.  After the show we drove about 15 minutes to a town called Santa Paula.  The hotel was beyond anything I can describe.  It was perfect.  Built in the early 1900's, huge fireplace in the sitting area, enormous windows, warm deep colors every where.  There aren't enough words to describe it.  We stayed at Glen Tavern Inn. Google it.
Saturday morning we went to have breakfast at a local Mexican restaurant.  I don't remember the name. Then we went to all of the little antique shops downtown.  Then we drove around and saw a lot of orchards around that town.  I had never seen an orchard before.  I experienced lots of firsts during this trip.  I think he prides himself on introducing me to new things.  Early afternoon we headed to Ventura to see the beach and to drive on the coastal highway.  I think it was Highway 1.  We went to Ventura Beach and walked out on these huge rocks.  We walked all the way to the end.  We watched the waves crash over the rocks for a while, looked at the mountains, and just enjoyed the weather.  It was so beautiful.  We went back and walked the beach to the next long set of rocks.  There were a lot of rocks on the beach.  They looked out of place.  They were like randomly placed river rocks of all colors.  They were all flat rocks.  We took one. We walked back to the car and drove to a nearby restaurant to have an early dinner and a couple of beers.  They didn't have the beer he likes anywhere we went, so he tried lots of different beers.  He ordered a buffalo burger.  It was my first time to try one.  I didn't really care for it. I had a shrimp taco. It was a cute little place.  The waitress asked where we were from after hearing me talk (she was able to guess). We chatted with her for a while about Texas.  She had been once...to Amarillo for a baseball game.  We stayed there for a few hours and headed back to Santa Paula.  We found a little bar near the hotel that was built in the early 1900s.  We went there for a short while and then headed to our hotel. 
Sunday we went and had breakfast because he likes to drink coffee.  I don't like coffee at all. We ate and headed south.  We drove through Ventura again.  It is such a beautiful town with really cool beach houses, shops, and old buildings.  We stopped to have some lunch in Malibu because, come on...we were there, so might as well.  I sometimes like to do things just to say I did them.  Now I can say that I've had lunch in Malibu. We went to V's Restaurant and Bar.  The waitress asked if we'd like a Bloody Mary.  Well, sure! I've never had one before.  It was not my favorite.  It had a lot of stuff floating in it...spices and such.  We shared a salmon burger and fries.  After that we went for a walk on the beach in Malibu.  There were more of those flat rocks.  We took one from Malibu Beach as well.  We hung out there for a while just taking it all in.  Then we headed to LA to the airport.  We found a little sports bar where he could watch football while we waited for the plane.  We didn't land in Austin until Sunday at 10 or 11pm.  At all the little places we went to, we would look up the history on the building/business.  We learned so many cool things while we were there.  It was such a fabulous trip.  I still can't believe that it happened. 

I only have a few more weeks until surgery.  We just changed insurances at work.  Really inconvenient right now since I was already pre-approved for the surgery with the Human Insurance.  I am going to have to rush to get all the info to the doctors and such.  I already have one pre-prescription that has to picked up before the end of the year just in case the new insurance cant get the prescription part done in time. I was worried about having to pay two deductibles, but looks like it will only be one. Whew *wipes brow* I'm still not scared.  Nervous, but not scared.  I already have two nurses that will come by to change bandages.  The hospital will show me and my family how to empty the drains before I leave the hospital.  I already had all of my pre-operation appointments.  I have my schedule of the people that will be staying with me for the first two weeks.  I feel as prepared as I can be.  Now, I just breathe and do this one day at a time.  I have a lot of prepping to do at work, and a lot of things to teach other people to do while I'm gone.  Just breathing. I have so many people that are willing to step up and help.  I'm lucky to know each of them.  I'm not sure how I will heal or how I will feel afterwards, but I'm beyond thankful for the support team that I have.  People that don't give up.  People that are willing to change bandages or whatever I need during the down time. People that have stopped their lives to help me function with some sort of dignity during this healing period. What an awesome gift that God has given me.  I am blessed beyond measure.

That's all I've got for now.  I hope any one reading this has a very Merry Christmas.  Remember to be kind to people.  The holidays are very hard for some people. 
~Darla

Do not be afraid

These last few weeks have been a little tough.  It's October now.  October is breast cancer awareness month.  My son changes his baseball cleat laces to pink ones for October.  He wears a sweat band with my mothers name written on the inside. I know he's just a kid, and this is his only way he can single handedly support awareness. I love him.  He's obnoxious and beyond silly, but he makes my heart smile. 

I miss my mom and wish she could be here with me through this.  I had an appointment with the surgeon that will remove the breast tissue in my upcoming surgery. That was almost two weeks ago.  I also got a call last Thursday that did not put my mind at ease.  When I met with the surgeon, we discussed the other appointments that had to done before the surgery can be scheduled.  There are four appointments. I get anxious and nervous when I have so many doctor's appointments, and I don't like missing work. So, I asked the scheduler to make all of the appointments for the same day.  I am really starting to get nervous or maybe anxious about these appointments.  I'm trying to bury myself in work and keep busy so that I don't think about it. 

When I woke up this morning, I felt very alone.  I felt nervous.  I wished I had mom to talk to.  I wept.  I miss her.  That doesn't go away.  You can't explain it to anyone.  You would think that with time, you would quit having the cry fits from missing someone who passes away.  I guess I'm not there yet.  There is jealousy too.  I get jealous of my friends, coworkers, and acquaintances that still have their moms.  I know it's silly to want to mom to go with me to these appointments, but she would have been there. I would have never gone to an appointment alone.  I'm jealous of the girls of the BRCA group who's moms will be there with them when they have surgery.  I know that I have people that will be there with me. I have some close friends that refuse to not be there, my kids, my grandma, some friends from church, etc.  I don't really need anyone there since I'll be sleeping, but oh what I would give to wake up from surgery and see my mom's face.  I would love to wake up from surgery to hear her voice, saying "I was right here with you, Baby.  You did just fine". That's what I was thinking about when I woke up this morning.  It's really hard emotionally...all of this.  It's my decision alone.  I just hope having this BPM and oophorectomy is the best choice.  I keep thinking if someone handed my a lottery ticket and said that it had an 87% change of being a winner that I'd be pretty confident it was a winner.  Breast cancer is not the kind of thing you want to have an 87% chance of winning.

The appointments are set for October 6th.  Tuesday. Next Tuesday.  Four days from today. My stomach is in knots.  I will go in early morning to imaging for my very last mammogram. Immediately after that, I report to have an MRI of both breasts. Then I report to the doctor that will be removing my ovaries for the last time.  In the afternoon, I will see the reconstructive surgeon.  There are several things that I'm worried about.  The mammogram doesn't bother me except for the fact that it's terribly uncomfortable and usually leaves my chest muscles and tissue sore/tender.  If the MRI comes back clear, then we can schedule the surgery.  If there is any tissue that looks questionable then we will move on to tissue testing. If there is cancerous tissue, I will have to begin chemo.  That would be worst case scenario. The only reason I feel worried about this is because my mother was so young.  When she was diagnosed at 47 with breast cancer.  At 49 it was stage 4 breast cancer which metastasized.  It had spread.  It was in her bones.  Watching her suffer in pain was beyond the worst thing I ever experienced.  Her slow, painful death was excruciating to watch.  I'm almost I am only 10 years younger than she was when she was diagnosed.  I'm willing to accept that God is in control, even if the results are not clear for the MRI. I would be able to catch this really early, and hopefully survive it.  I would never want my kids to see me the way I had to watch mom suffer. 

I am on the fence about meeting with the reconstructive surgeon again.  See, I've seen several people in the BRCA groups talk about this fairly new, less popular surgery.  It is only one surgery.  I wouldn't have to go back for the exchange 3 months later.  No expanders, minimal drains.  I talked with the doctors that will be removing the breast tissue.  They said to mention it to the reconstructive surgeon because both doctors would have to be on board with this. This will still be difficult and same recovery time, but it's all at once.  I am really hoping that I am a candidate for this option.  It is not as popular because of how long you are under.  It could potentially be a 8-10 hours surgery and that's a long time to be under. The other thing is that there is no time to stretch the muscle to put the implant under the muscle.  I don't like the way they look on top of the muscle, but they can do fat grafting to make them look more natural, and use cadaver skin to create a secure resting place for the implants. People with larger breasts are not typically candidates for this surgery from what I understand.  I will talk to the reconstructive surgeon to see if I am a candidate.  The only thing that really I have to talk to the doctor about that is removing my ovaries is that I want to know if there are alternatives for menopause once he removes my ovaries.  I know that I won't be able to take any hormones especially since my mom's breast cancer was hormone related (according to her medical records as per my doctor's information), so I wonder if there will be other options for me...maybe some natural options, healthier without having to put a bunch of chemicals in my body.  I am thankful to be getting all of the appointments done in one day, but I'm still very nervous.  I'm scared, and I wish my mom was going with me to tell me that it'll all be ok, no matter what the results of the MRI. 

I'm not sure how to feel.  It really stinks to be alone with all of this stuff going through my mind.  Just have to breathe through it, and do it one day at a time.  The phrase "Do not be afraid" is written 365 times in the Bible. Coincidence?  I think not.  One time for every day of the year.  I like that. 

Thrive...we shall see.

It's been a while since I've blogged, about a month.  I think this blog will actually be my Thrive Experience testimony.


My weight:  There was a time I was considered obese. I am 5'1".  I weighed 195lbs at my heaviest. My problem was that I ate crap food all the time, and quit exercising. I have talked about this in a previous blog, so we will skip ahead. I was always a runner. I love running.  I don't care for meat.  I don't like the tearing part.  I think meat feels barbaric on my teeth, and it's just not for me, so diets are really hard for me.  I wouldn't say that I battle with my weight.  I would say that I don't like my body.  Never have.  I think that is how most women feel. We will skip forward and talk about where I am at today.  Right now I stay between 145-150lbs.  I have been since probably September/October of last year. Even though I haven't gained any weight since losing 40 lbs last fall, I feel like I fell off the wagon.

My lifestyle:  Let's go back to almost 3 months ago. For this to make sense, you have to know a little about my day to day life. I would get up around 4:00am.  Sometimes I would lay in bed until 4:30 or 5:00.  I am a morning person, so most of the time 4am just worked for me.  I would get to work between 5-6am.  I could get a lot of work done before the doors opened, customers came in, and the phones start ringing off the hook.  I work in a very busy, high volume service department at a Ford dealership in Austin. I would leave work around 5-7pm.  There are days that I would work until 9pm just to get caught up on particular projects.  I was taking B12 for energy and still drinking a ton of soda.  My day consisted on one B12 first thing in the morning, a monster for breakfast, fast food for lunch, no dinner, and 6-10 sodas per day.  Remember that I also do photography on the side, so I would stay up until midnight some days editing photos. I would drink soda for the awesome pep that the caffeine gave me.  I love Diet Coke. I love the energy that a soda gives me.  I always drink Diet Coke because the sugar in regular soda makes me crash after a while.  So, there I was surviving off of caffeine and B12 most days, and going going going 18-20 hours per day. 

My friend Jana:  Where do I begin with this woman? She is a very active person.  She's a runner.  She has 4 kids and fostered more for years.  She goes to baseball games, works a job, manages a large household and has a fantastic body. Her legs are lean and toned.  Her arms are toned and not flabby at all.  She has a flat tummy, and tons of energy all the time.  Jealous?  Uh, yeah, me too. I've always been so jealous of her body and her energy.   One day, she was telling me about this product that she had been using.  It's called Thrive.  I am skeptical of EVERY thing.  I listened, but dismissed what she was saying because I'm not interested in buying stuff (sorry, Jana).  *wink*  A couple of weeks later she was telling me that this stuff really works, and that her husband had decided to try it.  Her husband and I both work an insane crazy amount of hours.  She said that he was really loving it.  We met a few weeks later for a sit down talk about Thrive.  She gave me a 4 or 5 days sample pack (I can't remember now).  It took me over a week to actually try it.  I didn't feel a difference.  She said that some people don't at first.  I read all over the internet on Thrive trying to find a reason not to try/buy it.  The only negative thing I could find was mostly from people trying the sample pack and not seeing a difference in energy.  I really thought that it was not for me. The more I read, the more I noticed that people who went a head and bought an entire month, and just jumped in were the ones noticing the difference.  After reading tons of blogs, forums, discussion pages, FB pages, Thrive experiences, I found that heavy soda/energy drinkers took longer to feel the effects.  I kept reading about all of these people that had their "wow day". I was having a hard time justifying spending the money on Thrive.  I added up how much I spend on soda and energy drinks.  I would get them out of our vending machine at work.  One monster ($2.50) and on average 7 canned Diet Cokes ($.75 each).  I was spending on average $7.75/day to stay alert all day and have energy.  Wow!  Lets say I was working only 5 days a week (yeah right).  At 5 days per week, I was spending about $155.00 per month on just soda and energy drinks. That was the deciding factor. I decided to go all in and just order an entire month of Thrive.

My Thrive experience:  I got my first order in.  Jana kept calling me.  She would say, "Have you tried it yet?'.  My answer was no for over a week.  She called (or texted) one day to say, "How can you have this awesome product in your mailbox and haven't even tried it?".  She was so excited for me to try this product.  So, game on.  Let's do this.  I took the two vitamins when I woke up, and slapped on my DFT (vitamin patch).  On day three I can remember not being able to sleep at all.  That can't happen because I only get about 4 hours of sleep at night anyway.  Day 4, same thing.  Day 5, I took the DFT off around 10pm.  I slept fine that night.  Maybe this stuff was working?  Hmmmm.  I also noticed on Day 5 that I had not had a soda all day.  If you know me, you know that is NOT normal for me.  I thought this was interesting.  My "wow day" was day 10.  I hadn't had a soda in 5 days, nor had I drank a monster for breakfast.  I just didn't need them. I was driving to work on Day 10, and said out loud, "I feel good.  Actually, I feel really good".  I was excited and ready for the day to begin.  That was when my Thrive Experience began. At some point I began wearing my patch through the night.  I did notice that I woke up easier.  I no longer had days that I would lay in bed for 30min to an hour hitting snooze.  I would describe Thrive as a game changer for sure.  My energy level isn't over the top like with sodas, or energy drinks.  My energy is level ALL day.  I am more alert, less tired.  There is no need for caffeine or energy drinks.  I have had maybe 3 sodas in the last 8 weeks.  I have been using Thrive for 10 weeks now.  I have missed one day of taking my vitamins and putting my patch on.  I will not be doing that again.  I remembered very quickly the tired me.  I love running, walking, and going to the gym but lost the drive to do it.  Three weeks ago I was talking with one of my daughters about walking at night, and we decided to just go. :)  We walk 20 miles per week.  We walk 4 miles per day, 5 days a week.  We love it.  I have the energy to actually do it!  I get home from a 14 hour work day, change my clothes and off we go.  I absolutely love this product and can't say enough about it.  I was very skeptical at first, but now, I'm hooked. I love the level energy that I have all day long.  I love that I pop out of bed at 4am.  I love that I have the energy to walk 4 miles per day.  So, this is my Thrive Experience so far.

People have actually seen a difference in my energy.  They have also noticed that I'm not getting a soda every 2 hours.  This was huge for me in particular.  I have 2 friends that have noticed a change in MY energy, and have recently ordered for themselves.  I'm ecstatic that I decided to "just give it a try".  A very special thanks to my friend, Jana for continuing to push me to go get my Thrive out of the mailbox. :) 

Forgive yourself

It's been a month since my last post.

I have so much I'd like to blog about, but sometimes I feel guilty. I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings with my blogs.  I've really been thinking about this. I want to blog everything.  My fears, my loves, my highlights, and my bummed out moments...buuuuut what if someone gets offended?  This blog is public.  So, after thinking about it and praying about it, I decided that I am going to blog whatever I feel like.  :)

This was the entry in my daily devotional of Jesus Calling this morning:
SELF – PITY IS A SLIMY, BOTTOMLESS PIT, Once you fall in, you tend to go deeper and deeper into the mire. As you slide down those slippery walls, you are well on your way to depression, and the darkness is profound.
Your only hope is to look up and see the Light of My Presence shining down on you. Though the Light looks dim from your perspective, deep in the pit, those rays of hope can reach you at any depth. While you focus on Me in trust, you rise ever so slowly out of the abyss of despair. Finally, you can reach up and grasp My hand. I will pull you out into the Light again. I will gently cleanse you, washing off the clinging mire. I will cover you with My righteousness and walk with you down the path of Life.  (reference scripture is: Psalm 40:2-3, Psalm 42:5, and Psalm 147:11)

I enjoy those daily devotionals in that book.  Most of them are applicable to any situation.  I don't have self-pity. I've said before that everything in my life has brought me to the exact place in my life that I am. I fell that this passage can apply to your life in general or a specific trial that you are going through.  I think that sin carries weight.  Most of us pack up a suitcase with our sins, and wrongdoings and carry them around with us. I personally feel that there are three ways to completely release yourself of the guilt/weight of sin. 1. Apologize. Apologies to people that you have wronged are huge.  It allows a release.  It allows open communication to heal from the wound caused by a sin or a wrong doing. James 5:16 says: "Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective".  Wow!! Pretty cool, huh?  Here's the second thing: 2. Talk to God. Do not hid from your sin/wrongdoings.  This is going to be shock, but He already knows.  As filthy as sinners are, He still sent His son to die for those.  Think about that for a minute.  Think of a person that you know that maybe you don't like or that you have judged because of their sin.  My example will be Hitler.  Hitler had a lot of people killed.  He treated the Jews terribly, yet God sent His son to die for Hitler as well.  Come to Him.  Come as you are.  You wouldn't believe what a release it is when you feel in your heart that you are forgiven.  When you know that God has forgiven you.  It will bring a cleansing cry for your heart, mind and soul.  Here is my last step in what I think it takes to unpack those suitcases of guilt: 3. Forgive yourself.

I have asked for forgiveness so many times for breaking the vows of my marriage. A little more than three weeks ago I was driving home from work, and praying.  I like to pray in my car where it's nice and quiet.  I do it on my way to work everyday.  This particular day, I prayed peace over the people at my job.  Seems to be a lot of chaos and stress, and that was weighing heavy on me.  Then I apologized to God.  I apologized for being a stumbling block to others.  I apologized for the fact that I was not a person that people would see Jesus in because I broke the vows of my marriage.  I cried hard.  I want people to see Christ in me.  I want people to say, "That girl has Jesus glowing from her".  I haven't felt that I could be that person since I had the affair.  It's been almost 11 months since that happened. I was bawling and apologizing for it again as I had done so many times before.  This time (3+ weeks ago) was different...it was almost audible.  In my heart and soul, I felt the words "I already forgave you".  How can this be?  How can He have already forgiven me? It's because He already knew my sin.  I had already asked for His forgiveness of my wrongdoing.  The week before I had actually apologized (via blog) to an important person affected by my wrong.  So, 3+ weeks ago, I finally forgave myself.  I finally unpacked that suitcase of guilt that I was carrying around. I can't not begin to tell you what a fantastic release that has been. No set backs, no turning back.  I am forgiven! I am no longer carrying that guilt.  I will no longer feel the need to continually confess to people why I am down or drift off in thought.  I'm not down anymore.  I am looking up.  God has got this. I'm not sad or burdened by my affair. It happened.  I can't change it now.  I have needed to release it for so long.  The only thing I can describe it as (which I have said before) is like a balloon. We carry around this balloon (guilt).  It's tied to our wrist.  It gets in the way and is a constant reminder of our sin/wrongdoing.  The balloon (guilt) is constantly there, over your head, tugging at your wrist. God has asked you for the balloon several times, and you reply, "No, it's mine".  You keep carrying that around with you. One day, you decide to trust God to carry that (just as Jesus carried the weight of all sin when on the cross). You let go.  No more tugging at your wrist, no more constant reminder, no more dragging around that guilt.  That the best way I know to describe it.  It allows you to look at yourself again, refocus.  You can love yourself again.  You can smile again. You can breathe deeply.  You can feel worthy of things.  Everyone deserves that release.  Everyone deserves to love themselves.  Everyone deserves to feel God's sunshine and warmth on their face.  Everyone. I feel so very free!  I feel loved, and worthy of love.

It was hard for me when my ex-husband started dating (immediately after our divorce), but I have released that as well.  I am excited for him.  I really hope he is good.  I hope he is able to love freely.  I hope she is everything he ever needed and wanted in a partner/friend. I hope "the one" is nice to him.  I hope his heart can heal through the love of another.  Here is a letter to the person who dates my ex-husband:
Dear woman (couldn't come up with anything else),
The person you are interested in, and may fall in love with is my ex-husband. He's a gentle man.  He will never harm you and will do anything to protect you.  He has a hard time with emotion, but do not fault him for that.  It's the way he is structured.  It's part of what makes him, him. He's rarely angry.  He will sit with you and listen to every word.  He doesn't talk much, so in conversation his contribution is his listening skills. He's quite handy.  He can fix just about anything. He loves deeply, and shows it by being helpful.  He doesn't have to have a list of "things to do".  He just does them. He drifts off in thought a lot, but it's usually about you.  He's a people pleaser, and will go out of his way to diffuse a situation before it can lead to conflict.  Be nice to him.  He doesn't express himself much, but he thoroughly enjoys people who are not mean.  He gets frustrated, but doesn't show it.  He was the man I once loved with everything in me.  Please don't hurt him. He's strong and masculine, but he can be hurt.  Hold his hand, but don't crowd him.  He is not perfect, but neither are you.  Love his faults.  He will let you dig through his phone.  He closes browsers, but does not clear history. Check it. Be sweet to the kids. All of them.  Keep in mind that the two middle children have two mothers (biological and me).  We are quite protective of them.  Don't be upset if he forgets things.  He will make up for it. Last but not least, love him with everything you have. Help him in his life journey.  Help him to be a better man today than he was yesterday. Be an addition to his life, not a an anchor.
Love, Darla

Where does that put me? Where am I at now? Well, I feel forgiven.  Free. Capable of feeling and showing love.  I now feel worthy of love.  I am dating.  The man I've been dating...well...he's nice. He's really nice.  I'm not brave enough to talk much more about him than that.  He makes me smile. I guess somewhere in the last 10+ months, I had forgotten how to genuinely smile.  I'm smiling for me now. I don't feel the weight of that suitcase or balloon.  I have unpacked everything, given it to God, and stepped out into the sunshine. You can't start your life story over, but you can end a chapter and move on to the next one.  You will never feel freedom of your mind and heart if you keep re-reading and trying to edit the last chapter.