Right now, I should be packing for TN. Right now, I should be sweeping and mopping my upper level floors, possibly the main level too. Right now, I should be making Kid Battle's lunch for tomorrow. Right now, I should be throwing miscellaneous items in to the washing machine, taking out the trash, and throwing some vinegar in my jetted tub to swirl around for a while. But right now, at 10:01PM, I am writing a blog because...I feel like it. To be perfectly honest, I may finish up here (or save this for later) and go take a nice, hot, comforting and relaxing bath before I go throw some vinegar in there. And I am perfectly okay with that.
We had a pretty darn good weekend, all things considered. Our kinda sorta sis-in-law moved all of her things on Saturday with the help of her step dad and his friend. They kicked some serious butt! There wasn't any drama, foul words, or disdain being thrown around, so that's a win! I even was told by her bestie and her step dad that they are sorry it came to this, but they know what it's like to live with her, and she will have to figure it out. Side note: Said bestie might be asking her to move out of her place already too. I have compassion for her situation and I hope her the best in life as I would like to see her and my nephew succeed. As a very dear friend of mine said, there is a season for everything. There was a season for her to stay with you, and now the season has changed and it is the season for her to move on. I agree with her.
Mr. Battle had a much better weekend as well. We spent some time at Build-A-Bear in the mall. He made a Toothless and an Olaf to attach to his backpack. Yes, he has over-sized backpack buddies. Whatever he needs to do to get through each day (preferably with a smile) is fine by me. I might even be a tad bit jealous...
Kid Battle made a Twilight Sparkle. It was a very good day.
Mr. Battle is back at the VA in the PTSD Unit. He is struggling again today with thoughts and beliefs that I would be better off without him. Happier, even. No matter the obstacles and struggles we have had together, I love the stuffing out of that man and I can't, nor do I want to, imagine my life or a world without him in it. Yes, things are hard a lot of the time. Yes, there are times where I would love to go to the bathroom by myself. Yes, certain tasks or goals are more difficult to do now, but that doesn't mean that his place in my home, my heart, or our family unit has shrunk or become less imperative because of the changes. He IS important and he plays a vital role in my life and in Kid Battle's life. Do I think that there is only ONE person out there for each of us? I honestly don't know. I mean, I believe that the ONE is the person who you chose and who chose you (with God's guidance) and every time you choose him/her rather than throwing in the towel it solidifies their role as THE ONE for you. I choose Mr. Battle. He chooses me. And I believe that GOD brought us together in the beginning for a reason.
One thing that I have learned in being a part of a church family is that everyone has struggles. Everyone feels pain. Everyone has a choice what to do in those situations, and it is not my place nor anyone else's place to judge. Blessed are the Cracked.
If you don't hear from me for a while, I am on VACATION! with two of my girls from when we were stationed at FT Wainwright in Fairbanks, AK. It has been 4 years since we have all gotten together so it should be fun! Also, fun fact! The friend we are traveling to--doesn't know that our friend who lives in WA is coming. SURPRISE!
Happy January, and Hello February!
Sunday, January 25, 2015
Thursday, January 22, 2015
Rub-a-Dub-Dub
Welp, my trusty readers...the countdown is on for another weekend. I am happy to announce that I honestly do not feel dread, fear, stressed at all! The amazing bath that I just took may have contributed to this. Have I mentioned that I've started bathing more? I shower regularly, usually...but this new bath time/tub time/jetted-bubbly-unwind time complete with Norah Jones, has put me back into a non raging demon wife. Thank you God for jetted tubs and Ms. Jones!
Facebook is a handy tool on occasion. I found out that a friend of mine's daughter is being bullied regularly by a group of boys for a while now. When I say "bullied" I do mean more of assault. They have been assaulting this sweet 12 year old girl who doesn't have a mean or nasty bone in her body. Her mom has gone to the teacher, principal, administrators for the district, and the MP's. The situation was "investigated" and the findings were that three of the four boys said they didn't do it, the fourth boy said they did and he named the other three. The outcome? Little girl gets detention for reporting it, and honest boy is the only one held accountable. Unfortunately this is a discrimination case, yet it is doubtful that with all the uproar in the media that anything will be done to fix it. Why? Because the little girl is white, the four boys are black. They go after her because she is white and the name they call her by as they are busy throwing her to the ground and kicking her is "little white girl." When will this nation, leaders, etc come to realize that racial discrimination can go many directions? I don't care what color, race, religion, or voting status is--if you are being targeted because of it, THAT IS DISCRIMINATION! It is heartbreaking that the school and district are not only refusing to help her, but are also punishing her and her family every time it is reported. Her mom and I have found out that since it is a discrimination case, there are federal laws that may protect her, however, it may be better to just move her to a district a little further out to ensure her safety.
Mr. Battle is still working hard for better tomorrows. He still struggles with feelings of being a burden, a bad person, and memories. I do my best to explain to him how brave and strong he is and I hope he hears me. A friend of mine is a Vietnam Vet wife and she tells me all the time that I have a tough road ahead and that she commends me for continuing to support Mr. Battle as he works on himself. From a lot of people, this may not fully come across as supportive, but from her--it is an incredible compliment. I have to admit something though, I am not an "angel" or a "life saver" or any other name given to those who care for other selflessly. I have extremely selfish reasons for being here and supporting Mr. Battle. I love him to the moon and back. And he looks good naked.
Kid Battle is trekkin' on. She's a tough little cookie with a good head on her shoulders, a forgiving and gracious heart, and strength and humor that goes on for days. Mr. Battle worries that his illnesses and struggles will impact her negatively, yet she shows compassion, bravery, strength, and kindness more than anyone I have met. She's one in a million!
I'm gonna head to bed for now. Mr. Battle comes home tomorrow, and then we will go as a family to see "Night at the Museum 3" at Kid Battle's school. Rock on!
Facebook is a handy tool on occasion. I found out that a friend of mine's daughter is being bullied regularly by a group of boys for a while now. When I say "bullied" I do mean more of assault. They have been assaulting this sweet 12 year old girl who doesn't have a mean or nasty bone in her body. Her mom has gone to the teacher, principal, administrators for the district, and the MP's. The situation was "investigated" and the findings were that three of the four boys said they didn't do it, the fourth boy said they did and he named the other three. The outcome? Little girl gets detention for reporting it, and honest boy is the only one held accountable. Unfortunately this is a discrimination case, yet it is doubtful that with all the uproar in the media that anything will be done to fix it. Why? Because the little girl is white, the four boys are black. They go after her because she is white and the name they call her by as they are busy throwing her to the ground and kicking her is "little white girl." When will this nation, leaders, etc come to realize that racial discrimination can go many directions? I don't care what color, race, religion, or voting status is--if you are being targeted because of it, THAT IS DISCRIMINATION! It is heartbreaking that the school and district are not only refusing to help her, but are also punishing her and her family every time it is reported. Her mom and I have found out that since it is a discrimination case, there are federal laws that may protect her, however, it may be better to just move her to a district a little further out to ensure her safety.
Mr. Battle is still working hard for better tomorrows. He still struggles with feelings of being a burden, a bad person, and memories. I do my best to explain to him how brave and strong he is and I hope he hears me. A friend of mine is a Vietnam Vet wife and she tells me all the time that I have a tough road ahead and that she commends me for continuing to support Mr. Battle as he works on himself. From a lot of people, this may not fully come across as supportive, but from her--it is an incredible compliment. I have to admit something though, I am not an "angel" or a "life saver" or any other name given to those who care for other selflessly. I have extremely selfish reasons for being here and supporting Mr. Battle. I love him to the moon and back. And he looks good naked.
Kid Battle is trekkin' on. She's a tough little cookie with a good head on her shoulders, a forgiving and gracious heart, and strength and humor that goes on for days. Mr. Battle worries that his illnesses and struggles will impact her negatively, yet she shows compassion, bravery, strength, and kindness more than anyone I have met. She's one in a million!
I'm gonna head to bed for now. Mr. Battle comes home tomorrow, and then we will go as a family to see "Night at the Museum 3" at Kid Battle's school. Rock on!
"Do more of what makes you awesome."
--I have no idea who said this
(possibly kid president)
^^Real thing, look it up. So worth it.^^
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Oh you again...
I live for--and dread the weekends. During the 7 week residential PTSD program, the weekends are all we really have to spend as a family. A whole family. While Mr. Battle is working his pattootie off at the VA, I miss him, celebrate him for who he is and how he is working to improve himself for our family, and I live for the weekends. On the other side of the coin, though, I also dread those 2-1/2 days he is home. Two weekends ago, he spent the entire weekend camped out in our closet. His meds were being "tweeked" to see if he would be able to come off of Depakote. The "tweeking" was really a horrible idea, one of which I very strongly and loudly voted against prior to. Exhibit A.
Mr. Battle's doctors do a wonderful job of including me in decisions and asking my opinion based on the roller coaster ride I continue to ride (periodically) with Mr. Battle. However, this time Mr. Battle was so on board with "tweeking" his meds, that they decided to move forward against my requests. It gives me confidence that they value and respect Mr. Battle enough that they take his hopes and desires seriously enough to try and implement them into his care, so no, I am not upset. Two weekends ago was hard, though. Add into the equation that he quite literally was only stabilized on his meds about two months prior to starting the program after three months of trial and error. (Complete with mental health hospitalizations and physical health hospitalizations due to adverse reactions.) I desperately needed some calm.
This last weekend I was hopeful yet cautious as to what we would endure considering the doctors have started moving towards re-adjusting his meds back to where they were before two weekends ago. This last weekend was mostly my fault. My fears, insecurities, and feelings of dread, stress, and being overwhelmed led to my outburst. Typically I am very in control of my emotions, but that just did not happen this weekend. I lost it. We were to notarize some documents for a jeep that had been totaled recently (which was the ONLY reason I agreed for Mr. Battle to come home instead of remaining at the VA where I was sure he was safe) and come to find out Mr. Battle didn't bring his wallet, the notary wouldn't sign it until every field had been filled (even though the SAME company had told me NOT to fill it out), and the POA was signed incorrectly bringing me full circle into a total and complete break down.
I broke down. I came crashing down hard. So what do I do with this break down? I get mad. Rage, even. Anger has served me well in the past as a coping mechanism to drive me through the emotional hard times in order to focus and keep moving forward rather than try to deal and bury my face in my covers. In this situation, I should have just cried. Anger was an unbelievably bad choice at that moment. Mr. Battle utilized his coping skills he has learned. He stayed calm and collected. He stayed calm and collected. He stayed calm and collected. I raged on and on and on and on and on--then finally--Mr. Battle had enough. He should be very proud of himself though. He did not follow suit and start raging as I was, but the rest of the day--even after I apologized and moved on--he was now stuck in the mess I created by choosing anger. After a day of rage followed an evening of communication. We talked about everything. My fears, stress, emotions, his fears, stress, emotions. It was good and productive and honest.
We also had to come to another major decision. My nephew and his mom were living here for free--something we did to try and help her out. Free rent, free food, free maid service, and free babysitter--what more could a new mom ask for?! Our "help" moved more towards "enabling" the longer she was here, to the point where she stopped moving forward in her own life (child support enforcement, college, etc) because living here was just so comfortable. It had gotten so bad that when confronted with a very reasonable list of chores (that she had been told would be expected prior to her moving in) in a very kind and considerate manner set her off into a downward spiral of entitlement and anger. An anger that she eventually tried to take out on my 6 year old daughter because she was mad at me. This is where she exited stage right last night. She is moving out, has already physically vacated the premises and only has a few more things to pick up. I changed the locks for now.
Mr. Battle's doctors do a wonderful job of including me in decisions and asking my opinion based on the roller coaster ride I continue to ride (periodically) with Mr. Battle. However, this time Mr. Battle was so on board with "tweeking" his meds, that they decided to move forward against my requests. It gives me confidence that they value and respect Mr. Battle enough that they take his hopes and desires seriously enough to try and implement them into his care, so no, I am not upset. Two weekends ago was hard, though. Add into the equation that he quite literally was only stabilized on his meds about two months prior to starting the program after three months of trial and error. (Complete with mental health hospitalizations and physical health hospitalizations due to adverse reactions.) I desperately needed some calm.
This last weekend I was hopeful yet cautious as to what we would endure considering the doctors have started moving towards re-adjusting his meds back to where they were before two weekends ago. This last weekend was mostly my fault. My fears, insecurities, and feelings of dread, stress, and being overwhelmed led to my outburst. Typically I am very in control of my emotions, but that just did not happen this weekend. I lost it. We were to notarize some documents for a jeep that had been totaled recently (which was the ONLY reason I agreed for Mr. Battle to come home instead of remaining at the VA where I was sure he was safe) and come to find out Mr. Battle didn't bring his wallet, the notary wouldn't sign it until every field had been filled (even though the SAME company had told me NOT to fill it out), and the POA was signed incorrectly bringing me full circle into a total and complete break down.
I broke down. I came crashing down hard. So what do I do with this break down? I get mad. Rage, even. Anger has served me well in the past as a coping mechanism to drive me through the emotional hard times in order to focus and keep moving forward rather than try to deal and bury my face in my covers. In this situation, I should have just cried. Anger was an unbelievably bad choice at that moment. Mr. Battle utilized his coping skills he has learned. He stayed calm and collected. He stayed calm and collected. He stayed calm and collected. I raged on and on and on and on and on--then finally--Mr. Battle had enough. He should be very proud of himself though. He did not follow suit and start raging as I was, but the rest of the day--even after I apologized and moved on--he was now stuck in the mess I created by choosing anger. After a day of rage followed an evening of communication. We talked about everything. My fears, stress, emotions, his fears, stress, emotions. It was good and productive and honest.
We also had to come to another major decision. My nephew and his mom were living here for free--something we did to try and help her out. Free rent, free food, free maid service, and free babysitter--what more could a new mom ask for?! Our "help" moved more towards "enabling" the longer she was here, to the point where she stopped moving forward in her own life (child support enforcement, college, etc) because living here was just so comfortable. It had gotten so bad that when confronted with a very reasonable list of chores (that she had been told would be expected prior to her moving in) in a very kind and considerate manner set her off into a downward spiral of entitlement and anger. An anger that she eventually tried to take out on my 6 year old daughter because she was mad at me. This is where she exited stage right last night. She is moving out, has already physically vacated the premises and only has a few more things to pick up. I changed the locks for now.
"Always remember that you are braver than you believe,
stronger than you seem,
and smarter than you think."
---A.A. Milne
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Life Below
On the outside, I am a good mother, a supportive wife and a force to be reckoned with. On the outside, I have gained a few "comfort pounds"--or more, I have an incredible home, a reliable and reasonable pay check that allows for me to be a stay at home caregiver to Mr. Battle. On the outside, I have it all together (even in my Olaf jammies). It has taken years to perfect my ability to shove any and all emotions, hurts, and defenses down to a place where I don't have to pay attention to them. Anger is a very handy tool in covering up what I am actually experiencing.
On the inside? Ahh, yes...On the inside I am a mess. Years of pushing everything down in order to maintain some kind of order, control, and dignity is not exactly healthy or beneficial. In fact, it can be and is, in my situation, quite destructive. Although I would love to tell you that it has only effected me negatively, I can't. That would be a lie. It served me well through the chaos that was our lives a few years ago, but when the family is in a healing phase rather than a "survival" phase, it is in no way constructive. We are that family. We are mostly in a healing phase even though it may feel as though we are still in survival mode.
Mr. Battle is medicated and actively participating in group and individual therapy to learn how to move past Iraq. Med changes are more frequent and far more complicated than anyone would like. Iraq is a living, breathing, dangerous and deadly monster that refuses to let go of Mr. Battle despite being retired since 2012. And this difficult, beautiful, chaotic family is in recovery.
Last weekend, Mr. Battle came home to spend time with Kid Battle and I. Due to yet another med adjustment that went south and the nightmares, flashbacks, and fear that comes with all of this, Mr. Battle spent the weekend sleeping in the closet. The weekend--not just the nights.
Me? I know who I am as a wife, a battle buddy, a mom, aunt etc. Remove all of those labels, and I can't seem to locate myself. I must have left "me" behind somewhere. While Mr. Battle is working toward a better future for himself and our family as a whole, I have continued to see our marriage counselor to work on finding myself free of anger, resentment, loneliness, pain, fear, and loss.
"Don't give so much of yourself to others
that you end up losing yourself."
--Unknown (unless you know who)
On the inside? Ahh, yes...On the inside I am a mess. Years of pushing everything down in order to maintain some kind of order, control, and dignity is not exactly healthy or beneficial. In fact, it can be and is, in my situation, quite destructive. Although I would love to tell you that it has only effected me negatively, I can't. That would be a lie. It served me well through the chaos that was our lives a few years ago, but when the family is in a healing phase rather than a "survival" phase, it is in no way constructive. We are that family. We are mostly in a healing phase even though it may feel as though we are still in survival mode.
Mr. Battle is medicated and actively participating in group and individual therapy to learn how to move past Iraq. Med changes are more frequent and far more complicated than anyone would like. Iraq is a living, breathing, dangerous and deadly monster that refuses to let go of Mr. Battle despite being retired since 2012. And this difficult, beautiful, chaotic family is in recovery.
Last weekend, Mr. Battle came home to spend time with Kid Battle and I. Due to yet another med adjustment that went south and the nightmares, flashbacks, and fear that comes with all of this, Mr. Battle spent the weekend sleeping in the closet. The weekend--not just the nights.
Me? I know who I am as a wife, a battle buddy, a mom, aunt etc. Remove all of those labels, and I can't seem to locate myself. I must have left "me" behind somewhere. While Mr. Battle is working toward a better future for himself and our family as a whole, I have continued to see our marriage counselor to work on finding myself free of anger, resentment, loneliness, pain, fear, and loss.
"Don't give so much of yourself to others
that you end up losing yourself."
--Unknown (unless you know who)
Wednesday, January 14, 2015
Beautifully Broken
My grandfather used to say that God never gives us more than we can handle. I apologize, dear grandfather, but I do believe you may be wrong. If this were true, then why have so many, including the faithful, committed or attempted suicide?
Mr.Battle is back in the hospital again. Fortunately this time is for a residential PTSD program (and is completely voluntary). This makes for the 10th hospital stay since August for his PTSD/meds/bipolar/suicidal ideation etc--and we are not alone. If this sounds true for you--you are not alone.
I see you. I see you! You with the spouse/family member who is struggling with trauma/mental illness. I see you, you with the smile on your face, desperately trying to hide the fact that you are choking back tears. You who are the glue and the foundation for everything and everyone around you. You who can't risk expressing or facing your emotions for fear that if you actually realize what is going on, you just might fall apart. I am you.
I see you, too. You who every day is a struggle-a struggle to wake up, to face yourself, to face your family and friends and the mirror. You who may feel as though you are a burden or a "downer." You who thinks about or may have thought about suicide as a final relief from the pain and the memories and the tomorrows. You are my husband.
You are not alone, and you are so precious! You matter. Your life matters! And you are so loved! Your struggles are real and powerful and painful and beautiful. And you matter!
"Blessed are the cracked, for they shall let in the light."
--Groucho Marx
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)