Contentment

I have written before about my past anxieties. Basically, I wrote about how "nuts" I was. Like, when I was scared about letting my little brother out of my sight, and when he was out of my sight, I would have to write a certain number of X's, then, and only then, after I completed the number of X's, would my brother be saved (I can't believe I don't remember the number of X's I needed to write in order to save my own brother). That fear (my brother disappearing) developed around the time I was eight or nine-years-old. Although, I don't remember the specifics of the event that led to my OCD, I do remember that it took place at my grandmother's house. My brother and I were staying with my grandma for a week and my brother and I were playing hide-and-seek. He would have been four or five. Jacob, found a great hiding spot. I mean so great, I couldn't find him for an hour. At first, I was not scared, that was before my grandmother caught wind of my brother's disappearance (my grandmother is known for her dramatization). After I had given up looking for Jake, I went into the living room where my grandmother was sitting, and I said something like, " I don't know where Jacob is." She then, not so calmly asked me (yelled) "What do you mean you don't know WHERE your brother is?!?!" My grandma ran down the stairs and all around her house screaming,"Jake? Jacob?" Then she yelled to my grandfather, "Jake is MISSING!!" Witnessing this, I instantly became frightened. I started crying. I don't remember finding him, I don't remember anything, but the panic attack I suffered (mimicking the panic attack my grandmother suffered). From that moment on, I was not going to let my brother disappear again. I wouldn't leave the house and I wouldn't let my brother leave the house; unless I was with him. My mom even took me to a shrink. I over came this fear after a long time of suffering. My family suffered. My mother thought I was crazy, my poor brother thought I was nuts (who could blame him), I have no idea what my father thought. Soooo glad I overcame that fear. It was OCD. Now I can finally see this.

Now, my anxiety for some unknown reason has shifted to this intense thought of losing loved ones. I have never experienced an actual loss of someone really close to me--at least through death--although, I have came (too) close to losing two of my children. I don't know that heart ache---yet thankfully. I have lost people close to me in other ways. As humans, it is inevitable that we are going to have different relationships throughout our lives. I love hard. It's the one thing that I love and hate about myself. I am passionate. I am compassionate. I do everything for everyone else ( which, is why I became a nurse). I wear my heart on my sleeve. I don't mean too, but I do. So, where does this intense fear of losing someone stem from? This is my question. I am spiritual. I think God talks to me. I think I can hear him saying things that are meant to calm my nerves. I know I am wasting time worrying about things that are beyond my control--but it is not as easy for me as it seems to be for everyone else. I have one great friend (and cousin) who I admire deeply. When I am with her and even when I am on the phone with her, I can sense her contentment. I am on a journey, I will be content.

Remembering

Owen is talking now. Well, sort of. He is starting to say more and more words everyday. Most people would think, well sure, he is two and a half after all. I think everything Owen does is an amazing accomplishment. I think about that night, the night the doctor told Jess and I that Owen may not make it through the night. I remember watching in horror when Owen would stop breathing, I remember watching as Owen's skin turned this pale ugly grey color, I remember the sound of the alarms, the the voices and the movements of the nurses working to stimulate him so that he would begin to breath on his own. Now,Owen sits beside me playing with a truck. He loves trucks. I watch him everyday grow and thrive. I am in awe over this child, who only a two and half years ago, lay struggling to breath in an incubator. I remember, finding places where I could sit and sob quietly so no one could see nor hear me. I don't do this anymore, holding in my pain so that others can't see. It hurts to keep such fear and pain tucked in. I let it out.

Changes

Life has defiantly changed since the last time I posted. Hal and Keyton are getting ready to start school tomorrow. Hal will be a first grader and Keyton will be a third grader. Owen is getting ready to start daycare. I am getting ready to start working and Jess is getting ready to help his father with Harvest. I guess we are all getting ready--for something. I got a job at the hospital, and I will be working as a labor and delivery nurse. I will do training on the medical surgical unit first.

I am tired---both emotionally and physically. I don't know if it is all the up coming changes or if it just everyday life. Thankfully, the class I am currently taking has been easy thus far (hope I didn't just jinx myself).

Some times I just need to sit down and evaluate what it is that I have, what is that I want, and what is that I need. I have plenty, I have more than enough. I want to be successful. I need my family and friends. Changes are rough. I am scared. Am I really ready to drop Owen off at a daycare? I don't know, because I have not thought about it. How challenging is it going to be to work, take care of three children, and go to school? I don't now. Jess is gone all of the time with work and now with harvest approaching. I am and have been extremely independent as a mother this far, and I will continue to try and do my best--at being an independent mother. I think there are some people who live in some sort of bubble, where their world is the only world that matters. I don't want to be that person. I want to be aware of what is going on in the world. I want to help with what I can and hope for things I have no control over. America, besides some of America, has came a long way. I recently read a book called The Help. It is a great book--and I recommend it. I will teach my children the value of self worth, I will teach my children the value of EVERYONE'S self worth. I don't want my children to ever be persuaded by the hatred of others. I want my children to be able to know the difference between hatred and truth.