Who Am I?

There is a song by Margaret Becker that goes something like this:

'Who am I, Jesus, that you call me by name? What could I ever do to be loved this way? Who am I, Jesus? In Your eyes, tell me, who am I?'

There is another Margaret Becker song that goes like this:

'You see, I'm looking for the You that used to speak so clear. I'm looking for the me that had a heart to hear and I'm looking for the passion that held me here on the edge. Find me, find me. I'll wait for You.'

I am in a snarky mood this morning. My headache has been a little stronger for the past few days and it is taking its' toll on me. I am physically and emotionally tired. A couple of months ago, I felt weighed down by depression and struggled to fight my way through it. Then there was sunshine, and I felt lighter than I had in months. Not so today.

Sometimes I wonder who I am, where I am going and what the heck I am doing. Most of the time, it feels like I don't have a clue as I go through the motions of life. If I peeled away all the layers what would remain?

I am a wife and mother and sometimes there seems to be little distinction between the two. My husband is not perfect, but he is a great guy and I am blessed. My kids are not perfect, but I love them intensely and again I am blessed. I am not always a great wife or mother. It is far too easy to look at someone else and see "perfection" and then look at my imperfections with disgust. Casey is quite adept at throwing poisoned arrows into my heart, little lies that tell me how terrible I really am.

I am a friend to some, I think and hope, but this is where my insecurities grow and bloom. I have never been the social butterfly type of person. My close friendships have always been small in number. I'm okay with that most of the time. The older I get though the more I want friends that know me, the real me that tends to hide away behind the mask of the day. I treasure my handful of good friends. And yet, here I am grieving the loss of a friend. Still.

I am an employee who works hard and does all that is required of me to the best of my abilities. I go to work and do my job and try not to get swallowed up in workplace gossip and conflicts. There are co-workers that I thoroughly enjoy working with and some that I have learned to get along with. I enjoy the work and the pace. I do not enjoy the customers who think I am retarded because of where I work, and I am not eager to climb the ladder even though they try to put it right in front of me.

There are so many little labels that I can stick on my back: chef, housekeeper, chauffeur, bookkeeper, personal organizer, slave driver, and so on.

If you strip all those things away what is left?

Where am I going with this? I don't even know that anymore! When my head hurts I find it a little difficult to focus, which means I've been out of focus for nearly six months! No wonder everything is blurry! ;o)

Seriously though, my head does hurt and whatever train of thought I was on has derailed. I just want to cry and I can't articulate why, and maybe I don't really want to, even if I could. There's always hope though.

And another Margaret Becker song, taken from scripture...

'Once I was far away but now my life is found in You. Once I was without hope but now I have a vision of heaven. Fallen from grace, by faith lifted up. Now I believe no height, no depth can keep us from the love of Christ. No life, no death, no trial can tear us from the love of God in Christ. How wonderful the love our Father God has given us that we could still be called children of God.'

Shameful

I did find the article on the end of friendships; turns out I hadn't tossed that magazine yet! I wish I could post a link to the article online, but I was unable to find the exact same article on the Chatelaine website.


Reading the article and reflecting on my own situation once again, I have been able to put a finger on some of the feelings that have rolled through me: insecurity, sadness, shame, loneliness, anger. Some feelings were quite obvious (sadness, pain and anger), while other feelings were more elusive and difficult to figure out. Shame was one that I didn't recognize until reading this article, but it was there all along.


My mom and I went to a Pampered Chef party last Monday night. As much as I was looking forward to the party, I knew that there would be a measure of discomfort for me as my estranged friend would also be in attendance. Such a situation would have eaten me up with anxiety in the days leading up to such a meeting, but I'm past the worst of it now. I knew it wouldn't be the most comfortable situation, but I did not dwell on it. I've given up on any expectations in terms of this relationship. There was no hello, no smile, not even a nod of the head. No acknowledgement of my presence in any way, and in a way I was glad.


The biggest problem for me was realizing that I would have to explain to my mom what has transpired over the past few years. My mom lives with me, and I have never said a word about anything in this situation. I realize now that my silence was a product of my sense of shame and insecurity, misguided as that may be. So on the drive home, I finally told my mom the Reader's Digest condensed version of everything. My control broke and tears clouded my vision. The pain was instantly fresh and deep; the shame was in full bloom.


My mom is a wise woman, and she told me truths that I know in my head but struggle to believe in my broken heart. It was so good to hear those truths again, to be reminded once again that I am loved and that being rejected was based on my friend's insecurities and shame rather than on my character. I know this, I know it, I do! But, sometimes I forget, because I can hear and see, inside my head, the words and actions that seek to destroy.

Catching Up, Moving Forward

I have two kids home sick from school today. Casey and Abby have both been giving us various complaints of coughs, sore throats, aches and pains for the past week, but until this morning they seemed relatively fine. Being sick is never convenient; however, this is one weekend where sick kids can only create huge wrinkles in our plans.

Sam has a hockey tournament in Grand Forks this weekend. In fact, his coach picked him up about half an hour ago. Kane, Casey and I were planning on heading out first thing tomorrow morning, after dropping Abby off at her friend's for the rest of the weekend. I'm not adverse to dragging the kids to Grand Forks (provided that they are feeling somewhat better, of course), but Abby would be most disappointed to miss her sleep-over and so would her friend.

This sleepover has been in the works since the beginning of the year when Abby's friend celebrated her birthday with a sleepover party. Unfortunately, a couple of hours into that party, the friend and her sisters all got sick and Abby had to come home. This weekend's sleepover is supposed to be the continuation of that aborted birthday party. I guess we'll play it by ear and see how things are looking in the morning.

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I took Abby for a haircut yesterday as we were all getting frustrated with the rat's nest growing on the back of her head. As I sat waiting, I flipped through a Chatelaine magazine and came across an article that I had read at home in my own copy of the same magazine. I know that I read the article, but I don't think that I read it as thoroughly as I did yesterday. In all likelihood I have already discarded the magazine (it was a few months old); however, I will have to search for it online as the article was meaningful to me. The exact title eludes me, but the article was about the death of female friendships.

Oh boy! Is that ever relevant to me!

I am kind of cursing my stupid brain though for all the holes that let precious information slip through like water through a sieve. There were several "ah-ha" thoughts in my head as I read the article but, by the time I was back home and able to put pen to journal, the lightbulbs had burned out and I sat with pen in hand staring blankly at the wall. There was a lesson for me in that article. I could almost feel the growth and healing as I read those words, and now I am struggling to remember what I was so excited about.

Frustrating!

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I went to see my doctor again the other day, not because I wanted to but because it was something ICBC wanted of me. Almost all of my personal doctor visits wind up being a colossal waste of time, and this visit was really no different. I could not get an appointment but, because my doctor also does walk-ins, I was told to drop in and be squeezed in to see him. Translation: drop in and wait and wait and wait. I brought a book and waited and waited and waited. He had me move my head and neck. No problems there but he has me do it anyway. I'm healing well and need to remember that it takes time! Yes, everything takes time and I seem to always be short of time.

The headache seems to be fairly stable and consistent, most of the time. I'd be happier without it, of course, but I no longer remember what it feels like to not have a headache. It is incredibly draining!

My lower back is less constant with its' pain. It comes and goes depending on my activity. It still does not like sitting in many kinds of chairs and benches, and activities requiring frequent bending are sure to cause me problems. Even washing dishes or spending a lot of time working at the kitchen counter is too much for my back; there is just enough bending required to make my back uncomfortable and sore.

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Tuesdays have become fright nights for us. Sam has hockey practices that night. Some weeks, he has practice from 5:30pm-6:30pm and some weeks from 6:45pm-7:45pm, but he needs to be at the arena a half-hour early. Abby now has indoor winter baseball training on Tuesday nights from 6:00pm to 7:45pm and needs to be there fifteen minutes early. Casey has recently begun basketball at school and games are on...Tuesdays! The games tend to start around 4:30pm and run until about 6:30pm. Naturally, each of these activities are in different parts of the city.

It has been three weeks since I've seen Sam's hockey practice. I've seen only a small portion of one of Casey's basketball games, and my back has protested every minute of sitting at Abby's practice. I'm not sure how long basketball will run for, but we could very well have this Tuesday night chaos for at least a month. I'd rather have the crazy, busy chaos of all the kids playing baseball on the same night than this current chaos. But, in some sick way I actually find some pleasure in the chaos.

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The boys brought home their report cards for term 2 yesterday. No big surprises. Casey received academic and work ethic recognition. Sam's report card was mostly good for him; his Social Studies mark dropped from a C to a C-, but most subjects stayed the same with a couple showing an improvement.

I snickered over some of the teacher comments though. Sam's TA (homeroom) teacher said, "Sam has had a very good term in Advisory. Sam participates well and he has had a generally positive attitude." Well, of course, he has done well and had a positive attitude...all they do in that class is watch movies! Currently, they are watching The Departed. Last week, it was Live Free or Die Hard. What grade 9 boy is not going to do well in a class like that?!

His metal and wood working teacher said, " Samuel is a capable student and has a very good grasp of the concepts taught this term. Keep up the good work in this area. Samuel, however, must use class time more productively and refrain from distracting others." Okay, this is my Sam we're talking about here! We are forever telling Sam to speak up more and to be less shy around others. When Kane read this comment, he practically gave Sam a high five, which is not to say that we are encouraging our children to be disruptive.

Yesterday was also parent-teacher interviews for Abby's school, and so I met with Abby's teacher. No worries, no concerns there! She is reading and writing very well. She is organized and focused and participates. She does well in math and so on.