What do YOU do to help you cope with stress? Some people turn to addictions (drugs, alcohol, food, sex), some people turn to games (WoW, anyone?). Yesterday was one of the toughest days I’ve ever experienced. It was tough because so many things seemed to happen at once. You know, those times when you look up and say, “Seriously?” My hubby went downstairs and started writing e-mail. He told me that when he’s stressing, he needs to write. He’s such a good writer, so that can be a good thing, for sure. It only becomes a problem when what he’s writing is an e-mail, a not-so-nice e-mail, and he hits send. Luckily, this was not one of those times.

So what about me? I’ve always known that when I feel particularly stressed or upset, I need to get into the shower. I’ve done that for years. I may be cold or feel dirty, but it’s mostly whatever emotional need that is filled when I’m showering. Also, like most women, one of the things I end up doing, especially when I’m angry, is clean the house. If only that was a more effective tool: I could have a clean house 24/7! Alas, I’m on to that one, so it’s not so good anymore. Last night, though, I felt completely helpless. Where do you go and what do you do when there is nowhere to go and nothing that can be done?

I spent a little bit of time in our bedroom, after the shower, pondering and wondering if there was anything we could try (it’s the next day, and mostly nothing has been addressed). Before long, I realized that I was staring at the dresser next to my side of the bed, thinking of ways to write different words in steno. I was making up briefs! It brought me a small amount of comfort. THAT I could control. It was freeing, just for a few minutes, and that’s what I needed.

As for the stressors, here they are: First, Aaron texted me to say he had “had it” with his school. That was worrisome, and I tried to talk to him via text. Next thing I know, he’s telling me that they said he has to leave for a few days. Meanwhile, Darryl is also texting me to tell me the same thing. Later I learned that the school had had a conference call with Darryl and Aaron, Aaron’s counselor and teacher, and they described an incident that had occurred with another student. The decision was that the board needs to meet Thursday and decide what’s to be done with Aaron. In the meantime, he can’t be there.

Next, though, was the fact that we are down to our very last $18, and that’s if we “borrow” from Scott and Kristina’s practice jars (long story), we have very little gas in the car, and I have to drive to Northern Virginia for a job on Tuesday, and we don’t know how we can afford that. Compound that with the fact that a new, awful-looking “leak” has appeared on the driveway under our car. Something has gushed out, but we’re not certain what it is. When Darryl came to the train station to get me yesterday, the car was making a loud rattling noise when he would turn, and the car didn’t smell good. That meant, of course, that we had no way to go get Aaron. Later Aaron called to say someone was bringing him home.

We learned more from him and from the gentleman who brought him home about what was going on at school, and that’s going to require some phone calls and fact gathering on Monday. It’s one of those stories that really upset those who care about people who are handicapped and the care given to them by those who are supposedly put in place with specialized skills but fall short. Blessedly for me and for Aaron (especially for Aaron), while Darryl was trying to be a good father and give Aaron the kind of tough love he needs, Darryl was also sensitive to the Spirit, and he heard what he needed to hear and said what he needed to say. Tell me, how can you not be madly in love with a man who loves your children?

Darryl mentioned something that has troubled both of us for a while. Here we are, two talented people (I am a one-trick pony, but he's got so many things he can do and do better than many others), and both of us want to work. We want to support our family. We don't want to be given a handout. Yet here we are, unable to get work, unable to wear ourselves out in the effort to bring our family the monetary blessings we all need. So what else can we do? We have the ability, we have the willingness. Please let us have the opportunity and, more importantly, let us recognize and gratefully grab hold!

Today, Saturday, Aaron is temporarily in our basement (again, poor kid), Darryl and Scott limped over to band practice to give Darryl a little bit of “time off.” Kristina is trying to find someone who can come over. I’m all caught up with my work, my Sunday School lesson is prepared (but will we have a way to church?) I’m glad to have an opportunity to write and to think. I have beautiful music playing and a heater keeping me warm. Aaron and Kristi are entertaining themselves.

As I mentioned, I just spent half an hour or so putting together the finishing touches to my Sunday School lesson. Does the Lord love us or what? Tomorrow’s lesson is about Nephi, a young man who suffered through all kinds of affliction with and sometimes at the hands of his family, but he never stopped believing in his father or, more importantly, in the Lord, who he knew would give him what he needed to do all things the Lord required of him.

I can do this. We can do this. If nothing else, it is making us stronger people and maybe giving someone else the opportunity to take stock of his/her own life and say, “Wow! At least I’m not as bad off as the Barksdales! Their life seems much more difficult than mine!” You’re welcome :D

Turning the Hearts of the Children

Today is January 7, 2012. It’s going to be 65 degrees today. We live in Virginia. Seriously. Of course, despite the warmth and sunshine, it is freezing inside our house, and I can’t believe that I keep wanting to go outside to warm up. In January. Really. Thank you, Al Gore.

There’s been no work since December 22nd. Well, that was the date of the last job I reported. I finished transcribing that job by January 1st. I was supposed to work again this past Thursday, same job as the 22nd, but the case settled (Darn it! I hate it when people settle their disagreements!) I was also scheduled to work the 10th, 11th, and 12th on a hearing in Richmond. Good money and for a firm that pays quickly. Alas, for whatever reason, the hearing was canceled or postponed. Happy new year to me! I’m looking ahead in my calendar and seeing only one job in my near future: I have an all-day deposition in Stafford on Tuesday. Or do I?

The period between Thanksgiving and Christmas was not only ridiculously busy for that time period but for ANY period I’ve worked in my entire career! Great jobs, tons of pages, about 2/3 of which have paid. I didn’t receive any Christmas presents, but we were able to get some nice things for the kids, and that’s what really makes me happy. Okay, I *did* receive a gift of “smelly stuff” from Kristina, along with some fuzzy warm socks. That smelly stuff will last a long time, and the aforementioned cold house makes me sad that my socks can’t be clean EVERY day.

Tomorrow I teach Sunday School, and my lesson is prepared. House is relatively clean. No laundry to do. I know what I’m making for dinner, and it takes about 15 minutes to prepare to put in the oven, and it’s only 12:15 now.

My husband hates it when I’m in a position like this. If he knew what was on my mind, he’d hate it even more! It’s not good for Tracy to have time for reflection. It’s best for me to have so much to do that I can only long for days like today. Now that I’m having one, I sure wonder why I would want to! Usually I write when I feel compelled, whether by inspiration or frustration or heartache, it’s always the same. The words just seem to flow from my brain to my fingers, and I have a hunch that I am breaking my normal 115+ wpm. Other times I have the time to write, I want to write, but I don’t know what I need to write.

Some days I look at myself in the mirror and find it so puzzling to realize that the face I see is 50 years old. It’s not just that I actually don’t look like a 50-year-old woman, but I still feel like I still haven’t started. The bad days are when I look at the face and think I feel 100 years old, and I have nothing to show for it! Right now I’m six months older than my ex was when he died, nine and a half years younger than my dad was when he died. Who knows when it’s over?

Whenever I find myself with some time, I venture over to ancestry.com and dabble in genealogy. Part of it is like a fascinating puzzle. It’s so cool to find individuals and plug them into families. I crave the opportunity to take some of these people with me to the temple and eternally plug them into those same families. Elijah is definitely with me those days because my heart aches, both with joy over my successes and sorrow over the dead ends. And then there’s the things I learn about these people from just their names and dates. Like all the young mothers who lived just long enough to bear my ancestors so that eventually I would be born to bear the ancestors of my future descendants. One of my closer ancestors (mid 1800s to early 1900s) was married four times. He had so many children that I’ll bet he just wore his wives out! In that exercise I not only developed a sense of awe that his second wife, my great-great-great grandmother, who died at the age of 28, was able to bear five living children, but I felt a love and kinship for the two wives who followed her and actually raised those children, including my own great-great grandfather.

Someone posted something on Facebook that made me smile. It was a list of most-often mispronounced English words. One of them was irregardless, which isn’t a word, but it sure gets used a lot. That made me think of an argument my (subsequently) ex-husband was having with my father when we lived with my parents for two months back in 1982. The ex loved to use the word irregardless. In fact, he said a LOT of things wrong, either using wrong words or pronouncing them incorrectly (like Michele and Erica’s friend Allie…pronounced like alley….whose name he ALWAYS pronounced like Ali as in the prizefighter’s last name). We eventually called him Rheto-Rick (behind his back, of course). At any rate, my dad used to pronounce Italian “Eye-talian,” and yet even he knew that irregardless wasn’t a word. So after Rick used the word…again…to dismiss the solid arguments my dad was making, my dad looked at him in disgust and said, “That’s not even a word!” I miss my dad :D

Because I seem to have a case of ADD, my brain started traveling down the “things I miss” road. So here are a few things:
I miss the days of my early childhood where we spent a lot of time getting together with family, mostly my dad’s, but that’s because they lived closer. We also drove down a couple times a year to get together with my mom’s family. I regularly saw most of my cousins till I was about 14, then less and less until we all grew up. That makes me sad. And it makes me sad for my kids, who very rarely see their cousins. Of course, when they DO, it’s a party!

I miss going camping with my family. Sleeping in a tent, swimming in the river, being tied to a rock in Fort Bragg, California, so I wouldn’t fall off the cliff while my parents and grandparents were fishing in the Pacific. I miss lying in the bed of my dad’s pickup as we traveled about four or five hours. My brother and I were comfortably snuggled in warm sleeping bags and had a tarp secured over us (like that would keep us safe!) and had a great time. I kind of miss the imagination of childhood.

I miss my dad. Every day. He was funny and irreverent and rude. I don’t miss all those things about him, but it hurts my heart that he hasn’t seen his grandchildren grow. Well, in the case of some of them, maybe it’s better that way. I mean, he would either chew them out royally or simply stop speaking to them altogether. Of course, there is the very real possibility that if he had still been here, he would have somehow been able to prevent the erosion of our family.

My step-grandfather died of throat cancer. It was a miserable way for such a nice man to go. He made my grandmother happy, and he was really generous. He was an alcoholic, so I guess it’s better for us that he was one of the nice ones. When the funeral home was trying to embalm him, they had real trouble with his chin because that part of him was in such bad shape and just seemed to erode, no matter how careful they tried to be. I bring that up because I think about that all the time. Yeah, it’s just like that.

I miss my brother. The old one. The one who was just another person in the family. He was funny and fun. Until our dad died, he was just my little brother. Then he let his own notions of his role in the family go a little nuts, and hurt and harm ensued. It’s too bad because despite the things I know and the things I hear (I know a lot of people who know him, it turns out), I’ll bet he’s still funny and can be fun.
Did I mention that I miss my dad? I miss being someone’s little girl. I miss how, even though he could drive us all crazy with his prejudices and dislikes, when the day was done, he was a fierce father and grandfather who loved his family.

I miss the innocence of my youth. I slogged through high school, already battling the depression that has been my closest companion for as many years as I can recall. If I hadn’t been so depressed and so afraid, I wonder what I would have done? What would I have become? Who knows? What I *don’t* miss about that innocence is the sense of self-righteousness I didn’t even know I possessed. If I view the people who have come into my life in the ensuing years through the filter of I-have-never-had-a-real-trial-or-real-temptation-in-my-life, it is embarrassing to think how I would have treated them. So there is that consolation :D

Another thing I appreciate now is that I have learned a lot in the 35 years since I joined the LDS church. My early testimony came from the Spirit and hope. Much of that testimony has transitioned to knowledge and better understanding, both of which I appreciate so much. I’ve been teaching Sunday School for four years now, and I love how just reading the scriptures, more familiar now than they were before, opens my understanding m ore and more. I just shake my head when some person who barely understands his or her own religion scoffs at us because, well, obviously, we are members of a cult and are all destined for hell. It’s sort of like a citizen of France trashing Americans based on his being an avid viewer of “The Dukes of Hazzard.”
I will never regret the decision to start court reporting school. It was such a perfect choice for me. I won’t say that I’m, by any means, the best out there, but I am passionate about doing the best *I* can and being an advocate for human beings playing such an important role in keeping the record. I curse the aging body and mind that cause me to struggle, but again, I’m so grateful to have tools I can sharpen and improve along the way.

Last year was rough. 2011 is not a year upon which I will look back with fondness. That said, there have been some quiet joys for which I am eternally grateful. There is the quiet joy of an absence of anger and hate. Most of my adult life, those have been constant residents in my home, despite my efforts to be Pollyanna. Now that they’re gone, I am glad to say “good riddance!” There is the quiet joy of knowing my kids love me and need me. Me. Huge. There is the quiet joy of knowing that the goals of the four of us are neatly aligned. We all want the same things in our home. There is the quiet and fulfilling joy of the love I share with my husband. Without the distraction of trying to be the peacemaker in the family (and failing miserably), I have more patience and desire to understand him and who he is. And why he is that person. And he’s good to me. A life of pain has left me with the most valuable gift of all: Gratitude. I am grateful when I wake until the moment I fall asleep for being treated like I deserve.

Now, back to the weather. While I love a nice 65-degree day, especially in January, it’s been like this all winter. After a really hot summer, it’s disappointing that we aren’t getting the usual cold temperatures, and it’s really sad that we aren’t getting any snow. We don’t need Snowmaggedon, but it sure would be nice to wake up to the surprise of a world covered in white. It would be nice to sit before the fire (it’s too hot to start one now!) and watch TV with the family while it snows outside. I guess that means I’m a real convert to this “all four seasons” thing. I may be ruined :D