The View from Behind

 The view from behind. 

    I love taking pics from my perspective on our trips. This year my view changed. Brad leads us in crowds, through cities and as a family. We have this larger than life man walking up front carving a path.  The safest place to be in behind his massive shoulders. When Turner and Tate grew too big to carry it was natural to put them behind Brad and take the caboose position. He leads, I keep my eyes on his shoulders and guard the two in between us. 

      Getting to know Turner and Tate as adults is one of the biggest pleasures of my life. They are both so intelligent, athletic, caring and each have their own brands of humor that impress and delight  me. 

       Tate is joy personified. She’s light and fun, always moving and dancing. Her sense of humor and ability to captivate with her charm will serve her well.  She’s beautiful with out a stitch of makeup, silly and to many people’s surprise is an academic powerhouse.  Listening to her practice her Spanish, how she’s been an interpreter for me has made my heart flutter.  She is the kind of confident I wish I could be.  Her heart is so big and her eyes don’t see people’s weaknesses. Tate lives up to being my bringer of joy.  Earlier this year when a panic attack hit me so hard that I couldn’t move or speak she reacted as an adult.  My tiny daughter held my hand and talked to me until I could get my breathing and heart rate under control.  It was the first time I had to lean on her as an equal and she was beyond gracious and caring.  She was cool, calm and collected. I saw her in the future that she has planed in that moment.  She embodied all the traits that will make her successful as a medical practitioner one day. 

     This is the trip that my position in line changed. Instead of grouping Turner in the middle, my six foot tall, almost grown man of a son gently placed his hand on my back and moved me to the middle.  I looked up at him and said OK I trust you.  It’s not just walking in a different order, it was him growing into the man he is meant to be. He has moved me to the inside of the sidewalk away from traffic, kept watchful eyes on his sister and I.  Turner works alongside Brad as a powerful sentinel guarding our little family in crowds, emergencies or just daily life.  I placed my hand on the crook of my baby boy’s arm and let him step into the space I usually hold as protector.  Turner is adventurous in a way that few people can be. To truly experience life you have to have an assured nature. I get lost in my own anxiety and worries. My son knows his abilities, works on himself tirelessly to become the most powerful version of himself he can be. His energy is so much like his father’s.  Quiet power, a depth of understanding of his surroundings and ability to read a room that makes everyone around him feel more at ease.  His focus and intensity on his goals makes my heart swell. 

       Being mindful, going to therapy to help me get out of my head and into my life gave me the gift of seeing the moment our positions in line changed.  It wasn’t a simple rearranging, it was allowing my son to step up into being a young man.  I’ve been overwhelmed and awed by how loved I feel by my husband and kids. I didn’t know that many survivors of sexual abuse/assault also struggle with feeling connected.  I internalized that what happened to me was bad, therefore I must be bad.  I’ve always felt like a fraud or fake.  I woke up every day thinking that Brad would figure it out. Surely he would know I was a bad person because I felt bad and empty on the inside.  I’ve worried that I would ruin my kids from the minute I knew I was pregnant with them. I read every parenting book I could, I wanted to do right by them.  I’ve failed all three in many ways over the years. I tried to be a good mom while being in internal chaos. I drank too long and far too much in hopes of quieting the ghosts that walk through my mind daily.  I’ve had an incredibly quick temper,  been a perfectionist and unable to relax even at home.  I went to therapy as a last ditch effort to get some relief from myself.  I didn’t know that I would end up opening up to my family. I thought by pretending I was perfect that I was protecting them, instead I was keeping them at arms length. I didn’t know that by keeping my past and my struggles bottled up I was also keeping myself from being able to take in the love they have always offered me. 

      I cried early this morning in our hotel room. Brad and I were quietly talking about how amazing yesterday was with the kids and all the adventures.  I told him this is the best trip of my life.  I let go of controlling every aspect. I was up front with all of them about the triggers I have in crowds and unfamiliar surroundings.  It wasn’t a weight for them to carry like I always believed it would be.  They acknowledged my worries, assured me that we are all here to keep each other safe and have helped  me enjoy the trip right along side them.  I was IN every moment yesterday, not in my head. I told Brad this morning that I don’t know why sharing with them made it possible to receive their love and finally feel it in my heart.  He said it’s because I no longer have to work so hard to put up a false front of perfection or confidence. My family knows me and loves me anyway.  All of my darkest secrets that I have judged and blamed myself for lost all their power when brought into the light of love. 

      I have to write it all down to fully understand and process it. I share my healing journey because others who shared theirs gave me hope until I was ready to start the work for myself.  I’m learning that sharing your struggles doesn’t mean that you are going to cause the same hurt you are feeling to the ones you love.  For me, it’s let me be a much more honest and vulnerable person.  The love I now take in and deeply feel was always there.  I was unable to access it while I was lost in shame and guilt.   Therapy helped me let go of the shame and know that I wasn’t guilty for what happened.  Now I feel the love I always hoped for. 

    If you or someone you love is suffering from the after effects of sexual abuse or assault please visit The Younique Foundation page to find resources to help start your healing journey.  If you survived, the worst is over now it’s tome to start living.  Life can be so beautiful, I know you can’t imagine it yet. Borrow my belief that you can heal- I know it’s possible because I’m living  proof. 

Making muffins

         If you had ever told me that I would sit in my kitchen on a Monday morning crying and full of gratitude I would never have believed you.   Monday’s were always just the start of the next week. Hopeful but with pressure for perfection. If I only cleaned enough, cooked enough, overworked myself to prove to my family that I deserved their love…….. then it could be a good week.  My happiness depended on total perfection, otherwise I didn’t do enough to be loveable. 

      Today I sit after cooking the weeks’ breakfasts but it’s different.  I enjoyed cooking and and packing up  Brad’s  food because I focused on how much he loves me while preparing it. 

      I loved mixing up muffins to bake for our kids. I smiled and thought of what an amazing cook my mother in law is. She bakes these muffins for my kids when we visit, they like them just like Brad did when he was little. She cares for our kids and that love has flowed all the way across decades and miles.  I enjoyed cooking because a really good mom showed me how to turn breakfast into an expression of care. Thank you Mrs Kathy for all of your examples of loving kindness. 

       I have texted friends to ask for help this week- something that I would have judged myself for before. Reaching out today was still awkward and scary…… but my friends are really amazing people.  They way I’ve been held up and loved even when I feel really  broken has surprised and started to heal me. It’s ok to struggle. It’s not ok to struggle alone. Now I understand that. 

      Healing can look exactly the same as any other day. What is different is how I feel in my daily life. This morning I cooked and cleaned not because I was putting pressure on myself to do enough to be worthy of love.  This morning I enjoyed menial tasks and let my heart focus on who I was wanting to care for by doing them. 

       The muffins get made either way. Now I just feel deep joy and an unexpected happiness on a random Monday. Spontaneous love and joy- not because I earned it- but because I am worthy of love no matter if I bake muffins or not. 💜

Now it’s real

 Trigger Warning- Sexual Assault. 

***This is really personal but I NEEDED to know how other survivors live and cope. So here’s how I stayed alive and came back into my body and right mind this morning. If you are a survivor reading this, you are not alone and with help life can get so much better. If you need help on where to find support message me. I can try to help point you in a safe direction ***

      Today’s work out challenged me more mentally than anything.  I was laying on a bench doing dumbbell pullovers. Nothing fancy. I had 30 pounds over head and two men walked up about 4 feet away from my toes. Talking, loud deep voices- just normal gym stuff. They didn’t disrespect my personal space at all. To any onlooker it was just a normal morning. 

     Laying down on the bench I froze, completely paralyzed. I couldn’t move the weight. I couldn’t set the dumbbell down. The sides of my vision started closing in and going black. I knew I was starting to panic. Shallow breath and my heart sent sparks of terror through my body. I was trapped and unable to help myself sit up. 

        The thing about “dealing with” your trauma is that you fully know and understand what you’ve lived through. This feeling has happened in almost every gym I’ve gone to. Any time I’m laying down and feel vulnerable. If I hear or see a strange male in my periphery, if they  walk too close,  I am sent into internal chaos.  My mind shapes present day into the scene I floated above, detached from my body while two men assaulted me. 

        Before getting help to recognize the signs of a flashback I would start to feel all of this and launch into fight or flight. I’ve walked out of gyms mid workout, doubled the weight I was lifting in hopes of feeling stronger or bitten someone’s head off for literally nothing.  Never understanding why I had a sudden wash of panic. Blamed myself for just being weak and crazy, then had to fight through the confusion the rest of the day. The gym is supposed to be my happy place but I’ve spent a fair amount of time running away from shadows of things that happened a long time ago all while trying to workout. 

    Now with a LOT of help I’m learning to slow my mind down and notice when these pictures and anxiety take over. I looked for Papa and mouthed the words “I’m not ok.”  I wish I could have just set the weight down and acted normal.  He didn’t embarrass me. Didn’t make me feel stupid, which is what I fear when I reach out for help. He simply took the weight from my hand so I didn’t drop it on my face. Helped me sit up and asked if we needed to leave. He stayed calm for me when I couldn’t. 

    Instead of completely freezing and going mute I was able talk to him and get grounded. 

I have to talk out loud and tell myself:

“I’m safe now. The room/people around me made me have a sudden memory of the men that raped me.  I lived through that already and it’s over.  It is NOT happening again even though inside my chest and abdomen feel like it is.  This is just stored up fear. It’s not from today. This fear is not from right now. It’s from a long time ago and from horrible people. I didn’t deserve that and I am stronger now. This is a feeling- all feelings have a beginning, middle and end.  I can just take deep breaths and know that I’m here, safe and this will pass. I am ok now. No one is allowed to touch me with out my permission. “

      I may have to walk myself through that speech a couple times but the jolt of adrenaline that makes my heart race and my Apple Watch ask if I’m on a treadmill workout- all that will pass if I allow it. 

     Not dealing with all of this has about killed me.  None of this is easy to share about.  I’ve been told by family that it’s all in the past and I should just forget about it, move on because it was so long ago.  Survivors pretend for years that it didn’t happen. I pretended it didn’t happen for years and I almost lost my life while trying to live in denial. It’s embarrassing, makes me feel so gross and covered in shame. What if someone knows that happened to me? But I own it now. It happened to me, I was raped.  

       I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t go anywhere alone, I wasn’t around strangers, I didn’t break the safety rules, I wasn’t dressed provocative. Even following all the rules we are taught I was still a victim. Not my fault, no longer my shame. 

    I’m effing tough as nails for not dying during a long, violent assault. I’m thankful now that I was able to carry this anxiety and panic for so many years without taking my own life. 

      When I say it has been a struggle, it has been greater than any obstacle I could imagine to just keep living while trying to “look happy” on the outside. I can’t force the happy facade anymore. Now I simply deal with what each day brings.  Some are wonderful and calm, some are frustrating, some days are just days and that’s OK too. 

    Now I see the panic for what it is, allow it and know there can be peace and safety on the other side. I have reactions in other places that are more tied to my childhood events and those are harder to control for right now.  But it’s the same process- notice the fear, ask what sparked it, talk myself through the panic and know that I’m grown and able to protect myself and my children. 

Healing is messy. It’s painful. It’s so hard...... but there is a comfort and peace that washes over me after the panic drains out. If I stand in the fear and allow it, then powerful gratitude washes over me.  Now I can see all my blessings  as the cloud of fear evaporates. I can take a deep breath and feel Brad’s  hand on my back. I know that he loves me now. Fear kept me from being able to feel any emotion for a long time. Healing means dealing with all the bad emotions so love can finally get into my hardened heart. 

      Still navigating what is and is not ok to share. I won’t carry this shame anymore. I will speak up as a survivor. If it’s offensive, scroll on.  If this is something you are dealing with I’m sharing so it becomes easier for all of us. - 1 out of every 4 women in the United States will be sexually assaulted by the age of 18. Many, like me, will survive childhood sexual abuse and assaults as an adult. I speak up to bring awareness. I speak up to throw hope out there- healing does actually happen. If life is really, really hard right now it’s time to look for help. 

      You don’t have to carry this kind of shit alone. It’s shit, literal shit that you can deal with and then quit carrying.  Walking, talking, living with out that heavy burden is possible.

Tate is joy.

     Cried this morning watching Tate. This is her very last time on the floor. She did it big- won gold on the

floor and second all around gold and silver in all events. Covid changed all of our lives, Tate’s the most.  She practiced and did online workouts every day for 3 months. These aren’t the kind of skills you can keep up from home. 

       She lost her favorite coach, her best friends and the sport she was made for. She sat and thought long and hard when the world began to open back up. Not a single girl from her group went back. Gymnast don’t take off, they can’t. One missed week of practice on bars took at least a month to overcome and work back to. 

    The thought of starting from scratch with out Coach Tami and all of the young women from her team was just not possible. 

     I know this is small in the grand scheme of things. We are so fortunate, but that doesn’t take away the fact that she was SO GOOD. 

    I laugh when I say I want to be Tate when I grow up, but I am very serious. She’s the hardest worker I know. She’s braver than any person I’ve ever met. I can’t imagine leaping blindly backwards on a balance beam and trusting my own abilities to know I’ll land. 

     The amount of sheer determination to walk into a tryout to a new sport you don’t know and do your best in spite of being scared of looking stupid is huge. She’s made it on the B or C team for volleyball and basketball. Walked on and picked up a tennis racket for the first time the day before tryouts and came in 4th out of 27 girls. She is just badass.  It’s has to be humbling to be one of the top in the nation in your sport. To not only make it to regionals but medal at the top competition in your sport, then have it all pulled out from under you. 

      Tate shows up. She showed up 6 days a week for hours long practices. She trained every day, homework in the car, two hour daily commute and still pulled a 4.0 in school. Worked through injuries and smiled the whole time. I was so worried for her when the world shut down. I worried this would crush her to lose the sport that she lived for. I’ve learned never to doubt her.  The same dedication she had for gymnastics is still hers. She has just put it into learning new sports, building a new network of friends, trying every single sport she can. 

     I’ll say this over and over : Tate means bringer of joy. I was scared to be pregnant after losing a baby before her. I had no idea the little 8lb baby we brought home would grow into such a determined, powerful, silly, smart, witty young lady. I thought she would bring us joy, I didn’t know she would also bring joy to herself in any situation.  You ARE  joy sweet Tater and I love you more than you know. 

Worth the risk

 Blessings in the germs. 

I hate that my boy has the flu. Hate that he’s uncomfortable, feverish and aching. In the middle of his sickness I am thankful for the bright silver lining. 

     My son is now a teenager. Every day he wakes up a little farther from me. More independent, more worldly, and tearfully- less mine. The flu at 13 is no different than the flu at 2. Everything in me wants to comfort him. Shockingly he also needs me still. 

    I’ll take every hug. If he wants me to sit next to him- that’s exactly where I’ll be. The same way that my busy toddler would get sick and, for a moment, let me hold him..... my man child is sick and will let me hold him. I’d risk flu and a lot worse just to be able to wrap my arms around him and smell his hair. 

     Papa is headed to Pennsylvania, leaving an empty place. Of course I told my boy to grab his pillow and sleep in my bed. The day is coming when he won’t need to be near me when he’s sick. Watching him grow up and apart from me has been the most beautiful pain I’ve ever known. 

    Tonight I lay here listening to Turner  breathing and coughing- so very thankful. Thank You God for a husband who will drive a thousand miles in a day for the job that supports us. Thank You Father for giving me a son who looks grown but will still let me hold him. Thank You Savior for seeing us through 2015 and letting us come through it together as a family.   

      Good night moon..... and all the creatures great and small. I drift off to sleep next to a sick boy, but I have a very full and grateful heart.

Keep on Keeping On

      I went in to to talk with Turner tonight. He was mid Zoom meeting with his football coach and team.  This isn’t what football practice is supposed to look like.
    As the numbers of cases rise in our area, I am a little scared. This prolonged surreal spilt of am I worrying enough/am I worrying too much is wearing all of us down.
     We are choosing to keep Tate home for now. The risk of going back to gymnastics just doesn’t make sense right now.  How long does this virus live in a chalk bucket?  A porous gym floor can’t really be disinfected,  as much as we would like to wish it could.  It has been so hard to tell her no. It doesn’t matter that the gym is opening today, you can’t go. We love you. We know you miss your friends and your coaches, we miss them too.
     Mentally preparing next year’s Varsity players is good, but what are we preparing them for?  Can you see social distancing happening in a dog pile on the football field? Ok boys, hold your breath through each play, no more huddles, spread out.
      I applaud the coaches trying to keep teams who haven’t seen each other in months together. Gyms who hold online conditioning sessions have my heart. It’s amazing for my kids to see their people. To try to keep some of the “normal” in their day.
     For now I will keep praying for the researchers, doctors, nurses and front line. Also praying for the other Mamas who walk the fine line between trying to comfort with “next school year with be so much better” and “I don’t want you to be surprised if there isn’t a football/gymnastics season this year”.
      Washing my hands, trying to be considerate of everyone’s space when we do go out and about. Missing a lot of the things that we all used to take for granted. Until we get to sit on hard bleachers, drive too far for meets, cheer til we lose our voices, sit with the Village, get after game Big Man Squad pics and hug the girls as they leave practice we will just keep on keeping on.

     

Goodbye to the Girls

Ok kind of weird to share about, but I’m weird so here goes 🤷🏻‍♀️

     My breast implants that I got back in 2000 have been recalled. Some personal health issues, the recall, avoiding a higher cancer risk and sparing my lower back helped me make the decision to explant.

       I am an anxious person, so worrying about the surgery is to be expected. What I didn’t expect is to feel like I’m mourning the loss of my breasts. Yes, I know it’s shallow. I chose to get these implants twenty years ago for cosmetic reasons. I was assured I’d always be able to get mammograms and no one ever mentioned them causing a rare cancer.

      I never felt particularly “womanly”.  I was a tomboy with a fairly athletic build and felt like a dude. Call me captain of the itty bitty titty committee. I was picked on, comments about  my figure, or lack there of, were made all the time.  Men, other women, even my grandmothers, all felt fine with letting me know I was not well endowed. Some were meant to hurt me, most weren’t meant maliciously but stung none the less. My flat chest was something I hated, hid and camouflaged. Victoria’s Secret was that I was always wrapped in several inches of wonder foam (I doubt it was really a secret).

      I decided to get “boob job”.  I did my due diligence, researched doctors. I wrote up a long list of questions to be answered. Made sure I could nurse babies if I got implants inserted under the muscle. I made sure my doctor was an accredited member of all the right boards. I researched his malpractice records and the reputation of the surgical center.

       After my surgery I was pleased with the results. I recovered quickly and loved  my new womanly shape. It was intoxicating to fill out a tank top. I felt so confident in a bikini finally.  I was a little shocked that life in general really didn’t change all that much. My internal feeling of happiness didn’t go up, and I really thought it would. I just knew if I could fix this one thing that I had fixated on for so long that everything would be different, except it wasn’t. The only thing that changed was my bra size and getting a little more attention from men that I could care less about. I felt like the 360cc’s of saline had insulated me from hurtful comments.

       Brad and I had been dating for over a year when I had my surgery. He was opposed to it at first, not a boob guy 🤣. He was worried I would change and leave him. I didn’t want to change my appearance for him or for anyone. I wanted to feel happy and confident. I was chasing the idea that a perfect body would make me happy.

      I’m extremely lucky that my surgery was an easy one. I went from a 34AA to a 34D in just a matter of hours. After college and marriage I really didn’t think of my chest as much. Life was busy, we were moving, learning to be married.

    When I got pregnant the only thing I worried about was being able to attempt to nurse. I didn’t have strong feelings one way or another about breast feeding, but I am lazy and didn’t want to be up at night fixing bottles. When we had Turner I am so glad I gave nursing a try. I breast fed both of our babies for 18 months. It was one of the best experiences of my life. Neither Turner or Tate has ever had an ounce of formula.  I think doing what works for you and your family is the most important thing. Nursing just worked for us.  I loved that bond I had with my babies. I loved our time together, quiet nights holding them. I cherished the early morning snuggles that belonged to just the two of us, but that much nursing definitely took a toll on my body. Having implants and adding nursing made me have comical proportions. Loose skin and stretch marks were such a small price to pay for so many happy moments. That connection made me happier than I had ever felt.

      Now 15 years later it’s not the perky breasts of the summer of 2000 I’m mourning. It’s the thought of having a lot of what I held my babies against taken away. My “girls” put in a lot of work. They fed two healthy babies for 3 solid years. They’ve held babies, teased my husband, they’ve been squeezed into party dresses, been pushed back up for the occasional date night, they’ve been cussed for making swimsuit shopping so difficult and been smack dab in the middle of every single hug that I have given for over half my life. It’s scary thinking of being left with nothing.

       I know it’s vain. I know I am not my bra size. I know happiness is not dependent on my figure. My happiness didn’t change when I got them, I suspect the same will be true when I loose them.  This surgery isn’t one I am looking forward to the physical results after. This time going under I’m hoping to have a healthier future. Lessen my chances of cancer and auto immune issues while saving my lower back as a bonus. Even though my head knows it’s silly, my ego is still fretting loudly.

      Having the first surgeon I met with tell me I won’t look like a woman anymore with out replacing the implants was hard. Fearing the scaring, worrying if my husband will still want me. It is all a lot of emotion to sit in. Brad has proven his love for me over and over. We have been through so much together, I doubt this will even make the top ten of our trials, but still I worry.

     I’m still a tomboy, my shape will just match my vibe soon. I will always love working out and I pray to keep my muscular arms as long as I can. I also pray I feel confident rocking dude arms when I don’t have the Jessica Rabbit ta-tas to offset them.

      It’s important how I go through this. I have a very athletic, beautiful daughter watching me. I want her to see me embrace my natural figure. I don’t want her to think her body is lacking in any way, because it’s not. She is so much more confident than I ever was, but I know she notices everything. I want Tate to see me love a body that will soon be a much more realistic example of her physical future. It is so important that I love myself, so I can model self acceptance for her.

        Having my son saved me. When I had a child I truly understood God’s love and sacrifice for me. Having a daughter forced me to love myself in many ways I never had. Tate watches what I eat. I had to get help and learn to cope with my disordered eating. Having Tate forced me to deal with my eating disorders. I couldn’t model those horrible behaviors to her. I had to learn to enjoy cookies, learn moderation. I had to become able to eat out, off plan and not weigh and measure every ounce of food I consumed. I had to make myself eat for enjoyment, not starve for punishment. Having Tate saved my life in the same way having Turner helped to save my soul.

      This is all the rambling of an over thinking mom who is worried about what I’ll see when I wake up from surgery. Can I love my new shape? How hard of an adjustment will it be to go from a 34DDD to a 34A?  Why does it matter? God don’t make junk. He does make paths for me to show me what I need to do. He helps me learn the lessons I need to be ready for the next season.

     I’m sharing this so I feel less alone. I’m sharing for the other women who go through this kind of self doubt and self criticism. I get lost in my worry and have always felt better once I let it out. So if you a little less of me, this is why. The plan is to go in during the first week of May. Prayers and good vibes are so appreciated. I found a great surgeon who specializes in safe removal of the implants and all affected tissues. I’ve prayed about it, I felt safe and comfortable with this surgeon. We’ve talked about it as a family and all agree it’s the right time. My Mom and Dad agree too and are the biggest support. After talking with Mama today I felt a  peace wash over me and knew this was the next right thing.

    Here’s to 2020 and all the small things it brings. Smaller me, smaller worry, less in between me and my family when I hug them, and smaller fears. 💜