Thursday, October 13, 2011

I didn't re-read this post before publishing.....on purpose.

You probably already know this about me, but I suppose I must be lacking in the self-awareness department lately, because I just realized it:

I don't like to post on my blog when I'm not feeling positive.

It's not that I don't want to admit that I don't feel happy/joyful/positive/peaceful all the time. Not at all. It's that I hate the feeling that all I have to share is griping and complaining, and I really do want to put good things out there.....

And yes, a little part of me--okay, a big part of me--hates the fact that I have times like this, whatever you want to call it. Human-ness (yes, I have a hard time being human; I can't help but want to be perfect), depression, adjusting, whatever. I'm not uncomfortable with sharing my faults. But I AM uncomfortable admitting that I sometimes lose hope, I sometimes really want to give up, and sometimes, well....sometimes I do give up, in certain ways. And what I'm saying is, I don't think it really serves anyone well for me to hold back about that aspect of myself. I don't see any of you as less when you're feeling these why do I judge myself so harshly?

So I'm making an effort to talk about my life, to post about it, and to write--be it fiction or autobiographical things--no matter how my days go. Because I want to prove to myself that I am not giving up. Not anymore. I'm growing tired of my self-pity, and I know I'll feel much better if I can uplift anyone, especially those who read this. Furthermore, if I have to complain or cry or anything of that nature, I'm going to take it one step further and end on a good note. As further evidence of believing in hope, and believing that hope can lead to faith, I will always try to end my less-positive posts with something a little less saddening.

Because that's what we're supposed to do, right?

Things are difficult, maybe we don't handle it well, but then we dust ourselves off and move forward. Because backwards is no place to go.

So here goes!

I still feel like a fish out of water. I'm still not feeling like I have any sort of regular routine going, though I often do the same things each day--they're just not the most productive or necessary things that my soul really hungers for.

I'm struggling to allow myself to love it here, mostly because Phill and I are thinking about possibly incorporating a huge lifestyle change into our summer next year. And I am fighting giving over any more attachment until we know more. (Which hopefully we will by the end of November; I'll make sure to apprise everyone of the change if it comes, and I'll still explain if it doesn't.) I know it's not helping me, or anyone else, to hold back like this. I know that. I know I should accept the wonderful things that are being given me. I know that. And still, I'm stuck. But working laboriously to get un-stuck, and forcing myself through the motions in the meantime.

I'm feeling ashamed for being ungrateful for the good things we have.

I'm feeling stressed about all I have yet to get done--unpacking the nitty-gritty stuff, finding a place for everything, editing, and so on.

I feel selfish, using the letter "I" this much.

I am emotionally eating, and frustrated at my lack of self-control, and embarrassed by the fact that it shows in my very un-toned, heavier-than-ever frame. I'm annoyed that I care so much, and annoyed that I haven't done anything about it.

(That last revelation was really hard. I want to erase it so badly that my hands are shaking.)

*sigh* Those are the uglinesses that have kept me from posting, for fear they will flow from my fingertips, unchecked, and that my detested human-ness will be laid bare for all.

But in writing them, I realize this: I am so normal. So, so normal. I am feeling nothing that no one else hasn't felt.

I am not alone.

You are not alone.

After all of that, after the heaviness of the last several weeks, I finally feel a glimmer of hope, a glimpse of what I might become if I just allow God to do His work, and let go. In sharing with you, I feel allowed, now, to move forward. Rocky as my terrain may be, wobbly as my legs might be, I have hope. More hope than I've had for a while. Enough that the tears are flowing now, and I'm ready to list all the good that I was keeping quiet.

Our house has dark wooden floors downstairs. I always dreamed of floors like these.

Our backyard is big and fenced in, and has a patio and a gazebo. It does my soul good every time I look out the back doors.

We've had a few thunderstorms since we moved here, and for the first time, I understand what is meant by the phrase "rolling thunder".....I guess that in Utah, there are so many mountains and rock formations that the thunder sort of stays contained in one place, making one big bombastic boom....but here, it truly rolls across the sky, free of obstacles and running itself out completely. I need these storms; I love them so much, but Reed hates them, and it gives me repeated chances to teach him how to replace his fear with fascination.

The boys have adjusted so well to school. Jaxon actually loves kindergarten now, which is nothing short of a miraculous answer to prayer. Reed is getting stronger, I see it every day, both academically and emotionally. I am so proud of my boys.

I get hours of alone time with Savanna every weekday, and I'm so glad I do, because she's growing up so much faster than I'd prefer. I don't want to miss it. She's taller. Her sentences are more complex. Her face is longer. Her hair is longer. She's a little mysterious, which I both love and grieve.

We have several neighborhood kids who come in and out of our house with comfort. I always wanted to be the house where everyone played....I took notes from my Sarah in Saint George. Savanna plays with little twin girls, whom she simply calls, "The grils", as in, "Mom, do you think the grils are home?" Reed plays with a boy who's here for weekends; this boy loves Legos as much as Reed does. All three of the kids play out in the front or in the back for a long time after homework is done, long enough that we have to call them in for dinner and bedtime.

Our neighbors are genuine, kind, and happy. We've been invited (and have attended) BBQ's and birthday parties. They drop everything to help when they see a need (like, oh, say, Phill's motorcycle comes off the ramp while he's trying to get it down from the truck-bed, and neighbor-guy dashes over to help until the job is done....or the 14-year-old neighbor boy who watched our cats for us while we were out of town last weekend, then emphatically refused payment).

There are trees everywhere, just big open sky and trees, and I've missed seeing so many in one place.

The library is within walking distance.

Our master bedroom and master closet are huge.

The ward is an example of the finest fellowship. The moment we walked in, we were acknowledged. We've been invited to and reminded of various functions, and we learned that the ward has been praying for families to come. (We're a very, very tiny ward.)

Overall, we could drown in blessings. I can tell you firsthand that God is merciful, and does give appropriately-proportioned blessings to balance the weight of trials.

I know I am not alone, and I know that none of us are. He's always standing ready to help.

*end-note: I am seriously considering deleting this post. I feel like a whiner. Swoop in and reassure my needy self, would you, by letting me know if you didn't feel it was too negative? After such a long effort to be quiet about my difficulties, it's hard for me to gauge anymore whether I'm being a Debbie Downer or not.


midRae said...

Rae, you have no idea how much I admire you and your resolve. You shall climb this mountain and overcome it and love the journey in the end. I also wanted to let you know that I strive each day to be like you. Someday I may be close but remember that you are an amazing person and will get it all straightened out when it's the right time. Love and miss you and am sad that the time we didn't have more time to get to know each other.

midRae said...

Let me fix that: Love and miss you and I am sad that we didn't have more time to get to know each other. Fingers and mind were not working together on that one. :)

Rae said...

That's okay, Rae--I understood and appreciated (so much) your comment!! I love you!

Christy said...

You are Amazing AND you are FAR from alone or a whinner or a Debbie Downer. You are just like the rest of us. You are a daughter of God set in a world of turmoil provided to you to help you grow and dig your roots deep and blossom and shine. I could write a post like this almost every day but I don't. It takes bravery to lay your life on the table though I hope that when you look around you realize that your table looks just like everyone's around you and even less cluttered than some. To be able to count such glorious blessings when your heart is not in it is a huge reflection of who you are and it's one of the many many many many many many many many many reasons I love and admire you. Chin up, maybe we're all just little girls but we're little girls with Great Big Plans!!

Abby said...

Nope. Not a Debbie Downer in the slightest. Just very real and, wait for it -- uplifting! You're not groveling in self pity hon, you're just finally sharing those struggles that you've been trying to just push out of the way in the hopes that they'd stay away. Sometimes it's the sharing alone that sends further away. And I love that you mention not WANTING to whine, and you're not. Look at all the wonderful blessings you've shared, even after sharing the hard points. And look at how you WROTE about the hard points. You may not feel as much hope as you want to yet, but it's still there and it comes through in the writing.

Love you!

Rae said...

Christy, Abby, your words are balm to my aching heart!!

Bridget said...

I find myself constantly in the same boat... Pointing out all the negatives I see and forgetting sometimes how truly blessed my life is. I still fret over the body I now have instead of focusing on how beautiful and healthy my daughter is. Mike and I are such best friends and both feel so much deeper in love with one another after the birth of our daughter, but yet we are still roommates, barely making eye contact somedays. It's hard, but this my life and everyone struggles. Don't feel like you're the only one.

Rae said...

Thank you, Bridget. Rory is so beautiful, and I LOVE you and Mike--especially seeing you as parents. I draw strength from you, I hope you know!

Lynnae Jackson said...

Rae, your post today was exactly what I needed. Thank you. Sometimes it's incredibly reassuring to find out that someone I look up to has the same feelings of inadequacy that I do.

And for the record, it didn't sound like whining. Your post was frank and honest about the hard stuff without being whiny.

Love you, Rae! Always, always, always!

Rae said...

Oh Lynnae, I love you! Always, always, always.

Marcy Jackson said...

Rae, Thank you for being the woman in Texas that my daughter wanted to get on a plane for! I am honored that she doesn't only have a mom to run to! Your honesty today was salvation to more than yourself. The powers we have as women, mothers, and sisters always goes far beyond blood relations. I am eternally grateful that the Boatright family flows in the veins of the Jackson family!!

Rae said...

Marcy, I am blessed to have you guys as our family! I love you!

Kelly said...

Do you realize that you wrote this for me? I don't know if it's because we both moved at the same time, but I feel and am going through the exact same stuff. You are spot on. I feel down. I feel guilty because I KNOW I am greatly blessed (and grumpily upturn my nose anyway). It's good to know that others (even friends) are going through similar upheavals too.
Thanks for the boost, Rae.

Rae said...

Kelly, I love you! It's really comforting to know you're going through it, too, although I wouldn't wish it on you. :)

Kristy said...

Love you Rae! :)

Qait said...

Psh. You call that whining? Maybe I should one-up you and plug in a post of my own whining. Then you'd see that this post you've written is BEAUTIFUL and so heartfelt and so necessarily honest.
I love it.