On & on you will go...

The most inspiring blog I follow (Enjoying the Small Things) often leaves me contemplating life, God, motherhood and all things human.  This mostly leads nowhere as I am often too exhausted at the end of the day to put any of those thoughts together into a coherent post that may (in some small way) inspire any of you readers.  But today I am off work, and although I awoke at 4:45am with my boys, I am not too tired (at 1:37 in the afternoon) to put my thoughts into a meaningful post about the road I'm on, and how I am changing.

In May Josh and I had the future spread before us like a road map. We knew which exit we were going to get off at, which hotel we were planning on staying in and which exciting attractions we would visit.  Then around August we realized that all we had planned was not going to work out. We were going to have to hit the road without a map. No GPS to guide us, no locals to stop and ask for directions. I would be heading back to work, and Josh would not be in a classroom all his own.


Oh, the heartbreak. How badly we had wanted to visit those attractions, and stay in our planned hotel. We had worked so long and so hard for this part of our lives.  A grand total of eight years of college education between us, and nothing, really, to show for it.

 So I drove back to Lincoln in September, tears in my eyes, ready for this journey to begin, just so it could end.  If that makes any sense.  Leaving the boys after being home with them all summer felt like severing my arm.  I had an actual ache in my chest as I drove off, waving & honking like mad to make them smile.

"But on you will go, though the weather be foul;
On you will go though the Hakken-kraks howl;
Onward up many a frightening creek,
though your arms may get sore, and your sneakers may leak.

On and on you will hike, and I know you'll hike far,
and face up to your problems, whatever they are."

(Dr. Suess, "Oh The Places You'll Go")

So we hiked.  
I grabbed Josh's hand, and we started this new adventure that we were not prepared for and had no intentions of completing.  Eventually, despite initial "No's", Josh was hired on at not one, but two districts as a substitute teacher, and my job, though I lost my sidekick shortly after school started, was doable.  We could do this. We could work, we could make ends meet, and Josh would continue to hunt for work.

In October we hit a detour on our already surprising trek, as I found out I was carrying our third son.  Stress levels hit an all time high as I became sick, nauseous and overwhelmed by health problems occurring in our duplex. 

Then in November Josh found a batch of jobs up in Alaska that looked promising.  We held our breath as he had a handful of initial interviews and he started working on paperwork for becoming endorsed to teach in Alaska.  But, alas, it was not meant to be.  As he was waiting for fingerprinting tabs to be mailed, the jobs filled up and we were back where we started- barely making it and losing faith fast.

By December I was feeling pretty desperate. I was ready to cash out my retirement (what little there was) and stay home at any cost.  Mentally, I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't leave the kids everyday just to barely cover the bills and groceries. It didn't seem worth it.  But without any promise of a permanent job for Josh, I knew I couldn't responsibly make that decision for our family.  So in January, (after being so blessed & uplifted by those around us for the holidays) I went back, yet again, with a lump in my throat.  And I started slipping into a depression, with severe panic attacks and anxiety, an inability to sleep, super disturbing dreams and a complete lack of happiness, joy or hope for the future.  
I had, in this journey, lost myself.

 Realizing that with a baby on board I couldn't jump ship (pun intended) I knew some changes needed to take place. Step One: Make a Plan.

I decided to seek out a counselor who could help me sort through my feelings about this pregnancy, the relationships in my life, my anxiety & depression, and everything else that was bubbling just below the surface.  This was a great first step.  Dr. R gave me some worksheets on depression about what to watch out for (like negative self talk) and some ways to force myself out of the social coma I had induced. I signed on to do Bunco (a dice game) once a month with a group my parents play with; I scheduled a girls night; I scrapbooked (which I hadn't done in so long because it was so much effort); and I started trying to accept what life had handed me. That was step two.  Acceptance, for me, was a toughie.

I have always (always!) hated the saying, "If life hands you lemons, make lemonade."  First, because what you really want to hear is "Oh, that sucks!" And second, because it's a cop out.  When you are in some really tough situations, it doesn't matter what you do to make the best of it, it can still feel pretty awful.  Especially if you are struggling with depression.  I felt like the main character in Office Space when he tells his hypnotist that each day that he wakes up is the worst day of his life, and the hypnotist says, "Oh, that's messed up."  

Everyday I would vacillate between being angry about our situation (after all that hard work, $20,000 in student loans, two years of me having to leave the boys, and at least fifty job applications-NOTHING!?!) and bawling my eyes out because I wasn't the only one upset here (Josh's dreams of teaching had yet to be realized, and he so badly wants to be a provider for us and allow me to stay home) and then I finally, about two weeks ago, reached a decision.

 I must take my life, this journey, this hike, this adventure, one day at a time.  
And for me, that means being truly present when I am at home, and being truly present when I am at work.  Some days are easier than others.  Some days the kids at work keep me laughing, I feel productive & needed and I love my coworkers so much I couldn't imagine not seeing them each week.  Other days the kids at work make me crazier than my own kids, my coworkers seem grouchy and I feel completely useless.  Same with at home- some days I feel an amazing connection with my boys, we laugh & giggle, make amazing memories and enjoy each other to the fullest, and some days they do nothing but tantrum no matter what I do, we have no fun, and I cry myself to sleep at night for having been short with them.  

But I fall asleep on my tear dampened pillow knowing I get to try both again tomorrow.

 Kelle (from Enjoying the Small Things) had this to say: 

"I think that tiny uncomfortable feeling of guilt that arises when we feel we could have done better is good too. Because what follows it is the best of the best, Baby--the full-dose, the first fruits. If we've already arrived, we have no place to go. But if we, for just a moment, feel like we might have slipped, how amazing are those next efforts, eh?"


I just love her. She makes even my mistakes meaningful. She asked recently what word you would use to describe yourself in 2010.  She gave examples like "capable", "purposeful", "triumphant" and "settled".  This got me thinking (as her posts often do) about what word I would use to describe myself in 2010.  There's such a list to choose from...

Surprised
Learning
Creative
Underestimated
Growing
Inventing
Strong

The changes that have happened-- our canceled road trip... the unexpected trek we took instead... baby Wyatt on the way (Did I mention we picked a name for Babyham?) --have all changed me. They have made me a better wife, better mother and stronger woman.  They are not what I would have asked for, or predicted, but they are what life has handed me.  And so I will stop being surprised and underestimating myself.  I will be strong. I will grow & learn from all of this.  I will find myself & be creative. Where there seems to be no answers, I will invent the right answers.  I will find my way.

We will find our way.