Drew got these pajamas for LAST Christmas and they are still way too long. He’s been flopping about in them with the grace of a giraffe on skates. Ha! Skates. Perhaps the lack of grace on skates runs in the family.
I’ve rolled the legs up a bit so he can “drive around” without face planting but when I asked him to lay down for a picture he said “watch me pull them up on my tummy and look weird!” And that was helpful because they look normal for once.
“What is the stupidest thing you did this year? What about in your whole life? You can take stupid to mean: embarrassing, dangerous, funny, lame, whatever you consider stupid.” – Kassie
This year: Attempting to go rollerskating with Daniel, Drew, and some friends at a Mardi Gras party.
I’d never been rollerskating before and had fantastic images of swooshing in between people, striped socks, derby girls, and beads flying. We entered the fray with wild abandon. Daniel kept Drew from dancing out onto the rink while I found skates.
I sat down, slid them on, and stood up. WHOAAAAAAAA. Wobble wobble wobble splat. My friends started zooming and I sat on the bench. Okay, okay, I can do this. I’ll try holding onto the wall. OH UGH WOBBLE WOBBLE SPLAT. Why did a tiny five year old just waltz by me and give me that look? How can she do this? WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?
I tried so many times. It was deliciously horrid. I managed a small laugh when I saw another girl having my same problem. We both painfully smiled and shrugged. One of my friends twirled around me with a “oh, you just glide like this…” and she gloriously swirled and swooshed and whirled. I put one foot out and then AUUUHHHGGHH. No. No. Just no.
It didn’t help that my son saw my wobbling and began shrieking “MOMMY IS GOING TO GET HURT!”
So I sat on my little bench the rest of the night. No dreamy derby for me.
My whole life: I’m sure there are some stupid things I’m not remembering but this one is something I think of pretty often: Cashing out my 401(k) to buy children’s clothes that I never sold.
When I quit working, I had a bit of money put away in my 401(k). Not a ton but it was almost $5,000. I had a friend who had quit her job and become an eBay maven so I decided to buy a pallet of children’s clothing from an outlet store. The idea was that I’d sell each outfit on eBay for $7 or more and make up the cost and much more.
A semi pulled up to our apartment that weekend and we moved boxes and boxes and boxes of children’s clothes. And for the next five years, I lugged those clothes around with us every single time we moved. And we’ve moved quite a bit.
I had hundreds and hundreds of outfits. I think I sold about ten on eBay, gave a handful away, and donated the rest to The Salvation Army this past summer.
Beyond stupid, I know.
I’m taking part in a blogging group called Reverb Broads that will be suggesting daily blogging prompts this December. If you want to join in, feel free! Go here or here to learn more. And thank you to Bethany for the idea!
I signed up for the December Photo Project (take one photo each day for the first 25 days of December) and here is my first submission.
After breakfast, we scampered out into the blanket of snow that arrived while we were sleeping. But it was SO cold and windy that we had to go back inside within ten minutes.
I know that the piles of icky snow will drive me crazy by the end of January but right now it feels like winter wonderland and I can’t get enough.
I saw my doctor right before Thanksgiving. It was supposed to be a weight-loss checkup (I lost 2 lbs which probably means I just wore lighter shoes – I’ll weigh barefoot and sleeveless next!) and general how-are-you-feeling visit but it quickly turned into a bigger deal than I expected.
I finally showed her a list of symptoms I’ve been having for a long time and after glancing over my list and asking me a ton of questions, she asked me to put the weight-loss on hold until the holidays are over (as in not STRESS about losing). My doctor thinks not only do I need to go back on anti-depressants but that I’m possibly suffering with Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. The possible PTSD seems to be stemming from leaving Fundamentalism and Christianity in general.
It’s been a few years since I’ve been able to drive without having panic attacks, I have a list of phobias that keeps getting longer, and I keep having horrible, horrible nightmares. As a friend recently said, PTSD is that your mind hasn’t put the event into long-term memory. So it lingers in the present and short-term memory. And without warning, BAM – it’s in front of you. And then you find yourself in the bathtub with a knife carefully balanced on the edge. Just having the choice to do something drastic seems powerful enough to calm the trauma inside. It can get dangerous quickly. With no warning.
This past month has been particularly emotional with the petition to remove Chuck Phelps from the Bob Jones University Board and the Do Right BJU campaign. After reading through the growing number of stories and signatures, my stomach aches for hours. I emailed with one friend who was reliving her sexual abuse trauma at the school (that wasn’t reported!) and my dreams that night were so vivid that I was scared someone was in the apartment with me and woke up begging Daniel to check on Drew.
I have a list of therapists that I’m supposed to call and hopefully I’ll meet with one this month and see what their professional opinion is on all of this. I’ve been avoiding therapy for a long time and I guess I can’t stop running from it any longer. It’s just really hard to stop hearing that person tell me “all the people in mental hospitals are people who stopped believing in God!” It’s hard to admit I may have mental health problems when I feel like most people are just going to say “IT IS A SPIRITUAL PROBLEM. GOD HAS JUST HARDENED YOUR HEART. I PITY YOU.”
I just can’t escape the nouthetic counseling that damaged my brain and heart.
One encouraging bit was that my doctor was just so genuinely sweet about all of it. She listened to everything I had to say, asked really, really interesting questions, and hugged me so tightly.
I’m going to just slowly breathe and enjoy December. And see if some of this mental anguish eases. And then January will bring a new beginning and a Fifty-Two Weeks project of weight loss. Fifty-two weeks. Yikes.