A tunnel with a light at the end

I felt compelled to give a little update after my previous, rather dreary post. But I think I should back up a little first.

When I was fifteen, I had my first bout of depression, brought on by a relatively small loss that I didn't know how to process. The experience sent me into a spiral of depression that would rear its ugly head off and on all the way through college. While this depression was partial hereditary, it was made worse by unresolved emotional losses, stress, and a refusal to seek help because I was too afraid of the stigma of going to counseling or getting on medication. Sadly, it was the Christians in my life that I most feared judgement from. This was mainly due to the fact that when my depression first started, I was told by a well-meaning, but misinformed, friend that if I just "had a little more faith", I would "snap out of it."

So my perception was that if my Christian circle knew about my depression, and the resulting doubts about God, they would think me faithless, crazy, or both. So I avoided getting help until I was so deep into my depression, and so miserable, that I didn't care anymore what others thought of me. I only knew that I wouldn't be able to keep my suicidal thoughts from turning into action unless I got help.

So the summer of my senior year of college, I met with a wonderful Christian counselor and she was able to help me learn how to manage my depression, work through my doubts about God, and process the severe grief I was experiencing at the time (in the course of a few months, three of my loved ones had died - my two grandpas and a dear family friend). I learned some of the things that triggered my depression and how to guard against them. I got on medication for a while in order to get the chemicals in my brain under control enough to process my struggle more clearly. And I learned that counseling is a helpful, healing, and heathy tool for dealing with the emotional trauma that is sometimes part of life. 

So why do I bring all this up? Because another thing I learned is that there is light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how bleak and hopeless and painful things seem, there is hope. Getting there takes work and the process itself can be really painful, but there is hope. Which is how I feel about this move. It hurts now, but I know it won't hurt this bad forever. The thing is though, I haven't been sure how to get through the tunnel to the light at the end of it.

When you're dealing with something like loss and depression, it's not just a matter of giving it time, or about finding something positive to focus on. It's not even just about trusting God. I believe my faith has played a huge part in helping me manage my struggle with depression and I believe it will help me through this most recent loss, but I've also learned that having a healthy understanding of how my mind and heart are designed is incredibly important to healing completely. 

Which is why I contacted my counselor, Bobbie, after writing my last post. She directed me to a book called The Grief Recovery Handbook. It has been very helpful as I learn more about how our minds and hearts process loss, how our culture is full of misinformation about handling grief, and how I can work through loss in an intentional, healthy way. It has been really, really good for me and I would recommend it to anyone dealing with a loss - whether a "big" one like death or divorce, or other types of loss like the end of a relationship or friendship, moving, a career change, broken trust, or anything else that is causing you to experience the pain of loss.

For me, loss is a big trigger to my depression and I'm fighting it by working through my grief in a healthy way. I have no wish to travel down that dismal road again.  And I always want to be honest about my struggle because I don't want anyone to avoid getting help because they fear the stigma, or feel alone, as I did. Counseling is a blessing, not a reason for judgement. While the circumstances surrounding depression and grief are different for each person, no one is alone in their struggle. Pain is a part of life, but if we're afraid to process that pain in a healthy way, it will taint the joy that is also a part of life.

"There is a time for every event under heaven... A time to weep and a time to laugh; A time to mourn and a time to dance." - Ecclesiastes 3

There is a time for grieving. Which is good, because it sometimes takes a while to work through it. But on the other side of it, there is a time to dance. Maybe I won't be pulling out my dancing shoes every day, and maybe the tears will come more often than I'd like, but there is hope at the end of this tunnel. For me, and for anyone reading this who can relate. 

The Good and The Grief

A friend recently commented that she hadn't heard much from me lately. And she's right. With the exception of a few photos posted on facebook, I have been pretty quiet since the move. My facebook page, my blog, and even my own private journal lays quiet and empty. Because the truth is, I don't know how to process this move and I don't know what to say. 

I can't pretend I'm thrilled to be here, but there are things about being in Colorado that I have enjoyed. While there have been challenges to navigate around, I have enjoyed temporarily sharing a home with my brother-and-sister-in-law and their two awesome boys (my three-year-old nephew is a hoot and keeps us laughing every day with the crazy things that come out of his mouth). It's been good for Devin and I to have to lean on each other and figure out this new life as a team. We've gone on some fun outings as a family of four and I can't deny that Colorado Springs is a gorgeous place to live in and explore. 

At the same time though, I am incredibly homesick. But I'm trying not to think about it too much because I can't function under the onslaught of tears that missing home brings. I've got laundry to do and food to cook and babies to look after and a husband to love and a new life to figure out. Not being able to see or breath because I'm crying so hard isn't conducive to making life here work. 

I know I have to eventually sift through these emotions. I'm in a process of grief and I need to mourn. I know this. The grief is just really thick and has a lot of layers and it's hard to allow it in. Because I'm not just mourning the life I left behind, but also the life that I thought I would have. Experiences and memories that I planned on sharing with my Arizona family and friends as I raised my own little family close by. Those dreamed about expectations are gone. Or have, in the very best light, changed drastically. I suppose it's not healthy to dwell on the "what would have beens", but it seems almost impossible not to do so. So I just don't think about it because it hurts too much. 

I'm in a state of numbness right now- not fully happy, not fully sad, just moving through life day-by-day. Not a healthy place to be forever, but where I am at the moment. It's a survival mechanism I suppose, to hold me together until we can get into a place of our own that just might start feeling like home. Until I can unpack the last box and find a new routine and build a social life again. Until I have the strength to unlock the swell of emotions surrounding this move. Until then, I've got to just hold it together for one more day, and one more day after that... and find little moments of joy here and there to help fortify my hurting heart.

* * * 

So as to not end this post on a complete downer, I wanted to share some photos of a recent hike we took as a family that I really enjoyed. No doubt it is beautiful here in Colorado and a great city for outdoor, endorphin-producing activities. There are far, far worse places to have to move to. 

When Making New Friends Stinks

Imagine if you will, arriving at the home of a new acquaintance, whom you have never met face-to-face before, but to whom you were introduced through a friend-of-a-friend by way of an online blog comment. You've emailed each other and talked briefly on the phone, but this is your first time seeing each other.

Imagine driving to this new friend's house and, after cautiously navigating your way through the new city to which you have just moved, getting lost in her neighborhood. You've flipped so many u-turns and pulled into so many different driveways in search of the correct house, that your motion-sickness prone fifteen-month-old begins to throw up in the back seat. You pull over and rush to the other side of the car just in time to catch three handfuls (and I do mean full) of projectile mac-and-cheese-with-tuna vomit. Said child has however, already covered himself in mounds of the stuff, so you remove him from the carseat and stand him on the snow covered side road, strip him of his foul clothing, wipe down the carseat as best you can with baby wipes, and fasten him back into the smelly seat.

Oh, and while you're imagining this ridiculous scenario, add to it that the friend you are meeting up with has a broken cell phone that can receive text messages, but doesn't have the ability to accept calls. Texting back-and-forth at stop signs trying to tell her where you are and trying to understand her texted directions is proving to be a colossal failure, so your friend steps out onto her patio were she gets one bar of service and attempts through the crackle of her phone to direct your way.

Finally, you arrive, flustered and smelling of vomit. Your new friend meets you out front and without hesitation, you nearly toss your clean child (for you have twins) into her arms and carefully remove the other child, puke-covered, half-naked, from the car. Your first words of introduction are not, "It's so lovely to meet you," but rather a desperate, "Can I use your washing machine?" And this, this, is the first impression that will be forever seared into the mind of your new friend.

But, after she helps you clean up your child, she offers you coffee and chocolate and good conversation and all is right in the world again. You may be remembered evermore as the "smelly mom-of-twins", but you hope that it will be with a touch of fondness.

And if you are me, then these imaginings are actually the stuff of reality. And my new friend Erin, bless her heart, was as sweet as can be (having five boys of her own, including a set of twins, she was empathetic to my plight). And so completes my day of two big firsts: navigating (semi-successfully) my way alone through my new city, and making my first new friend in Colorado Springs. Here's to less vomit in my future introductions. I'm not sure everyone I meet here will be as understanding as Erin.   

Discombobulated

Well, we made it to Colorado Springs on Monday. I've been in a discombobulated haze ever since arriving. Processing that we are actually here for the long haul hasn't even begun to sink in yet. Mainly because the basement apartment we are renting didn't end up getting finished in time so we are in this weird limbo of not being able to settle in or unpack, and sleeping wherever we can all find space in my brother-and-sister-in-law's house while all our stuff sits piled to the ceiling in their entry way. Bless her heart, my sis-in-law has been great about all this. I would be losing my mind if I were in her shoes. Maybe she has lost her mind and that is why she is staying relatively calm. 

Being that I didn't pack for, "sooo... the basement isn't finished yet", we've been living out of a weekend bag for over a week now while the rest of our worldly belongings precariously teeter in the entry way. Trying to unearth anything is a bit treacherous unless it's needed badly enough to risk being crushed by boxes to retrieve. Thus, repeatedly wearing "cleanish" outfits from the weekend bag is our new way of life. It's been cause for some interesting creativity. Also, my standard of acceptable attire and cleanliness has been temporality lowered. Fortunately, my underwear drawer was accessible, so that's good news.

Someday we'll all laugh about the chaos that moving into my brother-and-sister-in-law's house has caused, but today is not quite that day. 

Beyond the madhouse of daily rearranging everyone, the Leaning Tower of Death-by-Stuff, and the normal strain of moving to another state (magnified by about ten), we've had a lot of fun with my brother-in-law and family. All the cousins (my two boys and my two nephews) are getting along great, and my sister-in-law, Shannon, and I have enjoyed keeping each other company during the long days of stay-at-home-momdom. Once the stress of finishing the basement (the carpet is being laid as I type this) is behind us, I think we'll have a really good time with this whole "communal living" experiment.  Until then, we're all learning some good lessons on flexibility and patience. 

Blessed, Bewildered, Brokenhearted

Have you ever been so blown away by something God has done, so in awe at the way He has worked in your life, but also really, really hurt by it at the same time? I don't mean hurt as in, "God's out to vindictively cause me pain," but more of a, "God has moved in my life, but the results have caused life to hurt a little more than it did before" kind of way.

Well, I am completely living that emotional oxymoron right now in regards our upcoming move. If you read part one and two of the story behind why we are moving to Colorado, then you know that God answered a lot of specific prayers for us. I am stunned by how God has worked out detail after detail. Details that were completely out of our control and that we prayed about, and for some reason, God chose to answer in unbelievably precise ways. 

For example, we found out in October that there would be a possible opening in Colorado Springs for Devin's job transfer. But the timing was such that he might have to start the job before Thanksgiving and not be able to come back for the twins and I until after Christmas. Obviously, this would have been really difficult - I'd be caring for the twins on my own while trying to pack up our apartment by myself, plus having to spend Christmas away from my husband. Really not what we wanted. But the alternative - Devin not getting this transfer and hoping another job would open up again in a few months - was bad too because we were entering into a month-by-month lease in our apartment and it was really, really expensive. 

So we prayed about it. We prayed that Devin would get the job, but that somehow God would work it out that he didn't have to start until after Christmas (even though the start date for the job posting said November 25th). And oh yeah God, one more little thing - that we won't have to pay more that one month's rent on our exorbitant month-by-month agreement. 

Friends, that is exactly what happened. 

Devin found out on November 27th that he got the position at FedEx in Colorado Spring and that he didn't have to start until January 8th (giving us a perfect window to move right when our first month-by-month lease was up). It was a huge deal to us and I just felt so overwhelmed that God worked out these details. 

But at the same time, the move is real now. We have a date that we are leaving and the reality of it makes me so sad. Someone asked me the other day how I was doing and my answer was, "I've got good moments and bad days." I get these swells of excitement about this new chapter in our lives but it's the kind of excitement that comes when anticipating a fun vacation. Then I remember that it isn't a vacation. This is long-term, possibly forever. And even in light of the great things we will have in Colorado, it hurts to think of leaving my amazing group of girl friends and our incredible families. 

And to be honest, there are many days that I have not handled this change well. Fighting against bitter, negative thoughts is a daily struggle for me. I'm grateful and grumbling at the same time - which as you might imagine is very counter-productive. I don't want to leave, but I know God has shown us we are to go. I'm like the Israelites in the desert - complaining about the manna that God has provided because it's not exactly what I wanted. But God has provided and I have to reminded myself of this even though the results are painful.

Good thing is that one of the ways I deal with stress, anger, and upsetting emotions is to busy myself with a task and I've got plenty of tasks to occupy me as we try to pack up our apartment while still enjoying Christmastime activities with our friends and families. Many a box has been packed while I was sifting though my emotions. So while our apartment is a disaster, there are boxes everywhere, our schedule is jam-packed, and my emotions are topsy-turvy - amidst all this - I remind myself that God is in control. He has provided and He is in control.

My sister-in-law has a quote in her house that I've really loved during this season: "Life is not about waiting for the storm to pass, its about learning how to dance in the rain."

I'm not quite dancing yet, but I am learning to take His hand and let Him lead. Lead on Lord and please forgive me for my grumbling heart. You have provided and for that I am so grateful. 

Deadline: Project 101 in 1001

Welcome December 5th, 2012. You came so much faster than I anticipated when writing out my Project 101 in 1001 goals. Well, that's not exactly true. You arrived just as you always should have - with the normal passing of time. I just did not expect life to throw so much at me during the 1001 days of the project. Things like, a surprise pregnancy with twins, quitting my job to stay home with the twins, and planning a move to another state. You know, little things such as these that slightly hindered my ability to complete all 101 goals in the alloted 1001 days. 

But that is life. I completed 59 of my 101 goals and while that would be a failing grade in school (which makes my summa cum laude self shutter), I do not look at the non-completion of the project as a failure. I made the goals to help give my life some direction and the direction life took on its own did not line up with many of the goals. And that's okay.

Though I failed to complete the project, I look back on the past 1001 days with triumph and a feeling of achievement. Here are some things that were not on my list that I feel were great successes:

1. I have two beautiful, happy, and energetic sons that bring a smile to my face every day. 
2. I have a wonderful marriage to a hard-working man who love me well and appreciates me deeply.
3. I have a that job I love, and while it is exhausting, I get paid in hugs and smiles and adoring looks from the most precious little guys in the world and that makes all the diapers and laundry and tears and weariness and frustration completely worth the work. Motherhood: The hardest job you'll ever love.
4. God has given Devin and I amazing comfort and direction as we embark on this new adventure of moving to Colorado (more on that soon - some really awesome stuff to share).
5. Through all of this, I have learned to trust God so much deeper.

When I compare the list above with the list from Project 101 in 1001, I can't help but feel that, while fun, so many of the goals I gave myself were trivial in comparison to the tasks life handed me. There are still goals from the project that I would like to eventually complete, but I have learned through all of this that while "man plans his course, the Lord directs his steps," (Proverbs 16:9).  

As I move forward with life - planning, but eagerly watching for God's direction - I have been focusing on this passage: "Whatever happens, conduct yourselves in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ." (Phil 1:27). That is a goal worth pursuing wouldn't you agree?

Here's to the "Whatever Happens" of this crazy, unpredictable life... 

Lil Monsters Birthday Party

Being that I'm quickly become the most inconsistent blogger ever, I thought I would post a fun little update. And what is more fun (or more cute) than the first birthday party of twins? I submit - very little. 

The theme "Lil Monsters" seemed appropriate as both boys are walking now and into everything. And Weston's favorite activity is running around the living room with his arms in the air screaming like he just don't care. That kid is a ball of energy and then some. And both boys think it's hilarious to let Weston playfully bite Isaac's fingers and for Weston to grab Isaac's hand and hit himself with it. Lil Monsters indeed. Those two are constant entertainment, I tell you.

All five of the boys' aunts helped out with the party (much to my eternal gratitude). Aunt 'B' helped make the cupcakes and cake pops, Aunt Kristin made the monster cakes, Aunt Julia and Aunt Katie (my little sisters) made all the monster cups, and Aunt Shannon took me shopping to pick out special birthday outfits. And Grama and Papa hosted one amazing backyard bbq (complete with a homemade corn hole toss game) and Grandma (my mom) made the best beans in the entire world. We have an awesome family. 

And this, ladies and gentlemen, is what being parents to twin boys does to you... at least, that is our excuse.

(Oh and a quick little update on the whole "moving to Colorado" thing: there is nothing new to report. We are still planning on going, but don't know exactly when. Good talk.)

This party was awarded "Best Decorations" by partypail.com (which is pretty awesome since I designed all the decorations myself).