Barely there....

It seems as though every time I log on to do some blogging I find myself wondering how I've missed so many "crucial" posts about Collin. The thing is though, they aren't really "crucial". I mean, sure, its nice to share things about Collin's life, but the posts are a bit superficial, right? I mean, do you, dear reader, feel as though you have any idea whats going on in our lives outside of what you see in the glimpses through Collin's photos?

So just as a warning, this post is rather personal. Its not about Collin. Its about me. I'd even wager to say its intense. If you are looking for Collin, check back next week. Consider yourself warned, dear reader.

These past months have been difficult for me personally, and in some ways for our family as a result of the stresses in our lives. The new year is here, and there are so many things I've resolved to do, but one is to actually do some meaningful blogging. I mean, this blog has turned into something of a poster-board for Collin's photos, and while that is all fine and dandy, its not exactly what I thought it would be. I want the posts to be meaningful. I want to be able to look back and get a sense of quality in the posts, rather than quantity.

So here I am, making my first attempt to reconnect with the world via blogging, in a meaningful, albeit, late, manner.

December was what I refer to as a shitstorm. No joke. Actual shitstorm. That's saying something, I suppose, since Christmas, the happiest holiday of the year, was like the eye of my hurricane. In a two week period I managed to reach bipolar-like heights. Christmas day was actually fantastic, I loved watch Collin's eyes light up at the interactions with wrapping paper. The gifts might as well have been wrapped in hundred dollar bills. His little arms and legs would stretch out and stiffen because he couldn't contain his excitement. I mean really, when was the last time you were so excited your body went rigid? Babies are fantastic like that, they remind us how the simplest things can bring pure joy. I had no idea at the time, but I sure needed that reminder time and again over the next few weeks.

But the lows were extreme too. While we were in Michigan, four days after Christmas, my grandmother passed away after a long struggle against dementia. I say against, because it really was a fight. The kind where you put on your gloves, but find yourself out of your weight-class, nearly blind-sighted. Almost like a boxing match. Continual blows until she was finally down for the count. The disease continually robbed her of her independence, charisma and enthusiasm, which made it tremendously arduous, painful, and at the same time relieving to face her death. Her suffering was over, but I found myself asking why she suffered in such a troublesome way? In retrospect, her passing has been much more difficult for me than I thought it would be. I thought I could accept her death as a peaceful passing, allowing her to make her way to Heaven, but this hasn't been my path. I do imagine her in a peaceful place, but I also find myself conflicted about why such suffering had to preempt her peace. Reconciling who she became at the time of her death, in comparison to who I knew her to be placed me smack dab in front of mortality. Hello Death. How are you? Why are you so awful?

Recently there have been some findings in the science of Alzheimer's that leave a tiny glimmer of light at the end of the tunnel, but at the same time terrorize me. This article: Spotting Dementia 20 years in advance, offers a brief test to determine if you'll(**possibly**) have dementia 20 years in advance. Its sort of like napalm to me. I don't even want to open the link. Honestly. To get the url I quickly copied the link and tried not to read any of it. Do I really want to know if I too will face such a gut-wrenching demise? No way. At least not today. Maybe someday I will, but the knowledge of knowing would likely sink me into a serious funk-- to add to the hot mess that my life is right now.

After her passing we adjusted our lives as best we knew how and kept on. But you can't shed tragedy like clothing. It seeps in. It hangs on to you. So while you keep on trying to adjust, you end up finding yourself lost all over again.

We left Michigan in the face of a tremendous snow storm, arrived in Milwaukee exhausted. Emotionally numb and physically drained. Once we made it back to St Paul more re-arranging of life began. In 24 hours though, we were faced with illness ( cold and flu-ish for both Drew and Collin), our Jeep took a dump, and just as I thought the shitstorm was subsiding (with only a small, but manageable sprinkling of shit), one week later my dad had a stroke, a Transient Ischemic Attack (TIA), which are sometimes referred to as mini strokes. I felt like this was Death once again reminding me of the reality of mortality. Really Death, must you sleep right next to my heart?

So, more adjusting, more trying to stay afloat. Four days later I had surgery to repair some issues that I've had since having the baby. Surgery is exhausting. I'm glad I'm repaired, but I think the culmination of events finally hit me in head-on collision fashion. If only humans had personal air-bags to protect us.

Along the way I've been forced to reflect on my life-- on who I am within my family, on who I see myself to be, where my aspirations lie, regarding what I'm happy with, and what I hope to change.

Oddly enough, before all of this happened, say November, I really was in a place with limited faith. We hadn't really been going to church at all, and I really wasn't missing it. I felt guilty about challenging faith, about the idea of God, almost as though he was going to come down and say "you don't believe?!? That's it. There's no coming back. See you later."
I spend a lot of time steeped in Science and was troubled time and time again with the merging of faith based beliefs about creation and afterlife and what science might suggest. I like data. I like hard evidence. I wasn't sold on the God or afterlife thing.

But (and this is a BIG But), the problem was, I wanted to. I willed myself to have a better belief system. I tried to convince myself that I should head back to my spiritual roots. But doubt kept sneaking in. Again and again. (Looking back I honestly feel like the rest of this story has a little bit of divine intervention.). So I did what I thought might open the door for me. I prayed. I prayed for help in finding a path back to faith. Lots of praying. And then somehow, I came to this sense of calm about my doubts. I started to believe that it was okay to doubt my faith if I was active in reconciling those doubts. My first time back to church in awhile was Christmas Eve. I felt like the homily was directed right to me. The homily spoke of having beliefs in the influence of Christianity and supporting (my) faith through following the Bible's teachings. From there we went to mass every weekend and every weekend I've found a piece of the homily that speaks directly to me. Indirectly, I think my grandmother's death has helped me find my faith. These interactions give me a lot of hope for my faith as I try to navigate this new phase of my life. I admit I still have lots of questions. I still have lots of doubts, but I'm making progress, which is all I suppose I can ask for right now. One of my resolutions was to read the Bible, because, gasp, I never have. I've never read it cover to cover. I just finished Genesis last night, and let me tell you, right now, the story seems in all meanings of the word unbelievable. But I'm trying, and I hope God appreciates my efforts.

Through all of this, I've also learned a few things about myself. I've noticed that the lens my family sees me through, (which is accurate from their perspective) is unfortunate. They've learned to view me as a myriad of things (including lots of good things), but surprisingly(to me), they see me as fierce, almost harsh, resistant to listen and quick to react. This breaks my heart a little bit, because I feel like they've been left with the defense I built in high-school and don't have a sense of what my personality entails now. I wish they could see that I spend more time listening than reacting. I wish they could see how much my fierceness is about protecting them, I wish they could see how much I worry about their lives, about their health. I'll be spending more time being nicer, approaching topics more gently and trying to show them who I am now is not who I might have been at 18. I hear you. I hear every word of advice you offer. I listen. I may not acknowledge it very well, but I do, I promise.

I've learned a lot about Drew, about how he handles tragedy, how he faces my personal pain. Its been a learning experience for me, with many struggles, as when you are in tremendous pain, its difficult to explain how you particularly need to be loved in those times.

I've thought lots about the future and those thoughts have turned into more resolutions, but I hope that instead of being the kind that are placed and forgotten, that they become pillars of my life.

So, as it turns out, I'm going to be fine. I'm blessed in many ways, and all of the tragedies I've faced have made me a better person. I'm thankful for that.

I've resolved to spend more time with my family who live in Michigan. Because our time on this earth is limited and I truly want them to see me as a better person than they do now.
I've resolved to work, diligently, on my faith.
I've resolved to appreciate my husband more.
and finally, I've resolved to love larger. Because our love for others mirrors the condition of our own heart (John 2:9-11).

So in some ways I feel like I'm barely here, again readjusting. But that seems to be the theme for my life as of late, so I suppose I've got to take the bitter with the sweet and keep on.