New Study

                                     

I am considering doing a study. A study into my psyche. Scary, I know.

Here I am, over fifty, and I have a LOT of baggage. I have to keep reminding myself of that fact on occasion. You see, I have a tendency to "forget" the dirty stuff that has been so conveniently hidden in those bags for years. Every once in a while, I bring out an item that smells foul, just to show people what a stinky past I have. Why? Good question! I am starting to ask myself that question more thoughtfully.

Here's the problem. I have baggage, yes. But EVERYONE does! The difference is that most people take items out and deal with them, maybe figuring out how they can be "bettered" by the item. Then they either clean it up or toss it out. Me? I tend to savor the pungent odors. Maybe because they are so familiar? Maybe in hopes that one day they will smell pretty again? I don't know. But no matter the reason I give, it isn't healthy. I have a new life and a future. I cannot move forward if I can continually pulling out crap from my bags!

A few years ago, I found a study co-written by a counselor who deals with just this topic. I picked it up and bought if for someone else. But I never gave it to that person. Now it sits, collecting dust on my shelf. Well, I think it is high time that I stop being such a hypocrite and "take the log out of my own eye." My goal, or one of them, anyway, is going to be figuring out how to treat my baggage properly. I am sure there are PLENTY of blogs to read and studies to do in order to get that accomplished.

I am sure that my sweet husband will appreciate my efforts since my stinky stuff tends to interfere with the blossoming and sweet-smelling relationship I could have with him. 

Until next time,

Petra

Remembrances

                                      

It's the day after Christmas and I am doing a little introspection as I gaze at my Christmas tree and listen to the sound of the rain on my roof. This week between holidays is perfect for that, isn't it?

Recently I have been really buckling down and writing, frantically trying to finish up two chapters of my larger writing project to send to family and friends for Christmas. It was a labor of love. And I do not exaggerate the word "labor." I spent time mourning sentences that I eliminated. I got angry when my loving husband pointed out inconsistencies or confusions in my story. So there I was at the computer furiously editing words, trying desperately to improve what I had written.

But here's the thing, I see NOW why I was getting so upset. I had invested so much of myself in my work - my hopes, my dreams, my heart and soul - that I could only see those things on the screen. I couldn't see what HE saw - what I intrinsically knew. I had been tapping out words that came from the memories of my past. Some of it hurt. Some of it made me grin. Some of it took me to another place. But my memories are are not other's memories, so my sweet, considerate man didn't see he was asking me to "fix" my heart and soul. Of course he wasn't asking me to do THAT, but it is how I interpreted it, and THAT is why I was so upset.

I posted my short story and I feel good about it. I feel good about myself. I feel good about what my end product delivered. I lost nothing of myself. In fact, I gained something. I learned that sometimes I don't take criticism very well. Who am I kidding? I NEVER take criticism well. But I need to remember that when the words of advice come from a heart of love, one that just wants to help better me and my writing, it must be heeded. I was able to take two chapters that were so-so and turn them into something of which I could be proud!

Now, I need to get to work on the OTHER twenty-eight chapters!

Writing lesson for Myself

This morning I was doing a little Pinterest browsing and I ran across a  blog that I really found helpful. It was all about how this one person would advise another writer what he or she might need to be a more productive writer. I wanted to weigh in on this subject on my own, if I could.

I have been a writer since I was a child, according to my mom. I may have already shared that on a previous post. But I wanted to do a little reflection about the "how" I normally wrote - the tools that I would use. "Back in the day" there were no computers, just paper and a typewriter, if you wanted to get really fancy. But when I was creating poems as an eight-year-old, I wanted a notebook and a pencil. I wasn't very particular. As a teenager, I became a snob for college-ruled paper. And I wanted pens now. And I became a snob for the "right" pen as well. I was always in search of the one I liked best. It made me feel like I was a true writer.

Now? Well I have all of the latest tech stuff at my disposal. I have used much of it. I have tried using the typical software programs. They worked fine except for the occasional jump of a mouse and erasing large portions of the writing. (Fat fingers?) And then I got a few of the apps - OneNote, Writer, Binder, etc. What I found was that the "idea" of it interested me more than actually using them. Okay, so I needed to remember something while I was writing. What was I going to do, get my phone and try to find the app? By the time I got to a place where I could stop and actually record the thought I had, I had already forgotten what it was!  That just doesn't work for me.

Then I walked through the aisles of Barnes and Noble and larger department stores and find interesting notebooks. I would hoard them - seriously! I at one point had seven small notebooks/journals that were completely blank, waiting for some inspiration to use them. Then I would realize, after I had already spent the money to purchase them, that they were not, in fact, college ruled. UGH. So I would then go to Walmart and find regular old notebooks - spiral, composition, whatever - and buy them. They were perfect. I brought them home and didn't feel guilty about writing in them, as I did when I cracked open the more expensive notebooks.

OK, enough about that. 

Then I found Scrivener. Yes, it cost me a pretty penny, but I actually use it. It is a wonderful software program designed specifically for writers. But I did get, as still do, a little frustrated because I am not as techie as I wish I was. I just don't seem to have the time, or brains, to truly understand how to fully utilize that wonderful program. Well, I have used it and I do LOVE it tremendously. I have many projects on it and and can put MANY more on it. But I cannot use it while I am out and about. Also, the creativity....I will address that in a minute.

I now sit with my plain composition notebook that is graphed and am going to town on my current story. Let me explain why.

I can type pretty darn fast, for me anyway, and my word count for any writing project goes so quickly. There is a word count on Scrivener and it is so helpful when I am trying to complete a project. I can sit down and within about an hour I can have over 1000 words knocked out. For me that is a huge accomplishment. HOWEVER, I cannot count the number of times when I sit in front of that screen and just stare because the words just won't come. Writer's block. I close the laptop and quit.

Of course that is not the correct answer for a writer. A writer is supposed to write. The creativity is just supposed to flow freely. A writer's thoughts should always overflow from the brain to some kind of page. So I grab my paper and a fun, fancy pen, and the thoughts just flow! WHAT?

I have come to the conclusion. I am the kind of person who is going to need to write things out longhand and take breaks if I need to avoid my carpal tunnel pain.  The thoughts just flow freely and I LOVE the process of writing. It is therapeutic for me.

Of course, I eventually transfer everything to Scrivener, and that, for me, is my first editing process. This takes longer, of course, but if it works for me, then I would rather have notebooks full of of words that I have taken time to pour my soul in to than sit and write words that will eventually get all cut because I didn't enjoy the process.

Christmases past

                                         

So, here is a continuation of my Christmas musings...

Growing up in my military, Christian home, Mom was German and we celebrated a few Christmases in Germany. I have a very vivid memory, a very strong memory, when I was in primary school. I remember getting all wrapped up in my warmest clothes, traveled by school bus to downtown Wurzburg, and, with money that my parents had given me (it felt like hundreds of dollars even though it was probably only about fifteen marks) walked with my class and looked with awe and wonder at the beautiful kiosks that were set up in the German town I lived in. This was Christkindlemarkt! I get the shivers just closing my eyes and recalling that special time.

Kids, no matter from what country, usually believe in Santa Claus. The name of the man might change, but the conjured images are similar. I was no exception, There was a specific time when I lived in Washington state where I had a very close encounter with Santa. I KNOW I heard him stomping his boots down the hallway to the living room. We didn't have a chimney so he HAD to come through the door. I guess he knew that we were German and celebrated Christmas Eve. It probably saved him time to get to all the non-Germans overnight.

When I got to be an adult I was bombarded, by someone close to me, that I should NOT introduce my children to a fictitious character. That I shouldn't lie to my children. Well, I must say that I regret listening to that person. Had I known then what I know now, I would want my children to have the wonderment of listening for Santa's reindeer on the roof, and wondering, as I did, how Santa knew where I lived and how he was going to get to my tree without a fireplace. I think that I robbed my children and myself of a sense of fun and magic.

I like reading about different cultures and their beliefs and traditions about Santa. Most European countries have their own version of a jolly man or a kind and gentle man who came to houses delivering gifts of some kind to the children, and sometimes the adults. The legend has a wonderfully generous beginning and it amazes me that it has survived for so long.

To this day I love watching movies about Santa Claus. He brings hope to young children, who might otherwise not have it. I think about "Miracle on 34th Street" and to this day I cry inside for a little girl who refuses to see the magic because her mother trained her NOT to believe. 

Can I just throw in a little Christianity here? I KNOW that God is not a genie in a bottle, I would NEVER condone such beliefs. However, if an parent brings their child up never giving them the idea that God can and does answer prayer, that He does hear us when we pray, then what is that parent really teaching his child? A child must see his/her parent praying and they must be aware of answers to prayers.

Let's go back to Santa, shall we? Is it harmful for a parent to allow their child to believe in Santa? Do I REALLY think that a child, at the age of eighteen, will still believe in a jolly man who squeezes down chimney? Seriously? Of course not. So what is the harm in allowing a child to experience the joy and 'magic' of the holidays? Let the kids believe in Santa. I wish that more adults held to the idea of joy and 'magic' during the holidays. This world would be a nicer place.

So, for now......

I will continue to watch "the Santa Clause", "Elf", "Miracle on 34th Street," and the like, because I want the magic and fun of Christmas. BUT it doesn't replace or come before the adoration I have for my Lord who came to earth as a baby, grew to be Christ, died, rose, and now reigns in Heaven FOR ME! 

I just want to keep in mind that Jesus is present all year around and Santa is my hero for a few weeks in December.

Petra

                                            

I recently read a blog by one of my favorite hosts on QVC - Don't judge me. It got me to thinking about the season of Christmas and all of the traditions and customs that we have, not only here in the states but all over the world.

I am a Christian, first and foremost. I love Christmas. Yes, I understand that the whole "reason for the season" is Christ and His birth. But honestly, we were never instructed in scripture to commemorate His birth, were we? If I am mistaken, please tell me.

I love putting up a Christmas tree and decorating it. I love thinking back and recalling wonderful moments, as I hang the ornaments on my tree. I call it my tree because for some reason I am the one who ends up actually putting it up and putting on it the items that bring me joy.

I love watching the same Christmas movies over and over again, quoting certain lines from the movie as I sit in my pajamas eating cookies and drinking my hot chocolate. And I love watching the new Christmas movies that appear on the Hallmark channel.

I love the brisk air outside. I love watching the stars twinkle on a cold night and I am in awe as I watch the first snow fall. Who am I kidding, I love the snow EVERY time it falls.  I love walking in that fresh-fallen snow and trying to keep my nose from getting cold. I love re-tracing my steps as I turn around so as to not disturb any more of the snow.

I don't enjoy the hustle and bustle of the stores and the frantic nature of people for the month leading up to Christmas, but I do love the joyous attitudes. I understand that many people don't have the love of Christ and for them it is all about presents and such, but it is at this time of year that I think every person, Christian or not, cannot help but get a glimpse of the love of God when they walk around, seeing everyone smiling.

I love the lights. (That's where my QVC friend got me to thinking.) I love driving around neighborhoods and seeing the lights displayed, anywhere from simple candles in the windows to grand displays of light - depending on the budget. I love finding ideas that will fit into my home and budget. I like finding ways to make my Christmas tree and the inside of my home be bright, and in turn inspire me to shine my light on the inside.

That brings me back to my original thought. I love Christmas and I love Christ most of all. Yes, He is the reason for the season, but I think we, as believers should be celebrating His life in us all year around. We can have joy and extra measure of charity and good will on December 25th, but it's the rest of the year that matters. Kind of like we make New years' resolutions on the 1st of the year but don't do anything the rest of the 364 days of the year. What's the point?

Anyway, I choose to celebrate Christmas with joy in my heart and a smile on my face, not because it's a day on the calendar, but because of who reigns in me all year long. And those of you who see me throughout the year know this to be a fact.

Stay tuned to more musings of Christmas in a few days.

Petra

Update

I wanted to give you all an update to my last post. Here it is, past the middle mark of the goal I have set for myself to write 50,000 words. It started off like gangbusters and I was told to expect as much. I have the end goal in sight, I KNOW how my story is going to go. I have NEVER gotten this far with a story and I am loving it.

But then something happened....

I got another idea. It was a good idea, but my mind is now confused, for the "other idea" has a timeline. And the two timelines interfere with each other. I'M SO CONFUSED! I want to write for both but I have not the time, alas.  But I do have a plan. It's a good plan I think because I have been told "Just write" by all of my writer-ly friends. So I am starting a third writing project.

My free time has already been promised. Thanksgiving is around the corner and I want to make this year special. Well, the truth is, I need to make it special. You see, yesterday I had a deep thought. That as much as I remember this time of the year being my favorite (November through December, actually) it has become, in the last many years, something of a chore. Because, you see, so many painful memories are wrapped up in this time of year. I have had my heart broken too many times, and they have happened at this time of year. I have broken a heart around this time of year. I am painfully reminded that my children do not want to spend this time of year with me and it breaks my heart.

So here I am, inadvertently breaking the heart of my husband because I am hurting so badly. It isn't that I do not want to be with my new family and my parents, it is just that the pain of the past so overshadows the present that I rob everyone around me the joy that I KNOW the Lord wants to shine THROUGH me.

We try 'new' traditions. I like the old. The new seems foreign. The old is familiar. I must be getting old, for the stability of the past is a greater draw to my spirit. There can be compromise, however. I just need to resign myself to living in the present and making it as special for those around me as others have, in the past, made it special for me.

So, here's the plan. The key to this year's Thanksgiving celebration - simplicity. Buy as much stuff as we can pre-made. No sense overdoing it with preparations. But we still make a few dishes that conjure  the "good" about the past. The gathering might just be a small handful of people, but they mean the world to me, so I want to show them that I am fully committed to THEM and NOT the past. "Lord, give me wisdom."

The Christmas tree is still going up the day after Thanksgiving, but the decorations are going to reflect the present and the future. I am determined to eliminate the pain of the past. I do not want reminders of the past, other than the assurance that the pain is not part of me anymore.

Hopefully my "muse" will return to me (although I do not fully believe in muses.) I want to finish my writing projects and complete the work the Lord has called me to do. I just want to make sure I do it right the first time.

LET THE FESTIVITIES BEGIN!


Until next time.....

New Adventure

I am going to begin a new adventure in the next few months. I am fairly excited, but I have some trepidation going on as well. I was hoping you might help me in this new journey.

The month of October will be very busy preparing my house, my family, my friends, and my mind for the month of November because, you see, I have decided to participate, albeit without the huge group, in NaNoWriMo. (National Novel Writing Month). What does that mean? Well, basically that I will be consumed, the whole month of November. with writing my first novel. This is going to take a lot of effort and discipline, which I lack. And I will need to continue working my full-time job. 

So, in my home I need to make sure I am "set" with food, cleaning, and laundry needs, for a month, since I am not going to be able to do NEAR what I usually get done. There will be times I will have to wear my scrubs more than one day. Paper plates  and plasticware will become the norm. Freezer meals will take the place of slow-simmered crockpot meals. Dusting and vacuuming will have to be put off. And Thanksgiving dinner will have to be at mom's house. (Hope she is OK with that, wink, wink)

My family and friends will have to understand that I will not be "in the loop" for the month. Any free minute I have will be spent getting a few extra words either on paper or in the computer. I will not be able to get on Facebook and check what is going on in my family's and friends' lives - please understand that I love you very dearly and will miss that connection time. I will not be able to sit and visit with my family for hours at a time. I will not be able to come home from a taxing day at work and sit all evening binge watching my favorite shows in order to relax. Please know that all of this is temporary.

My brain and discipline are going to be the hardest to deal with. I have a tendency to be lazy - YES....it IS true! My husband would not agree with me, but I know me....I would MUCH rather sit and veg than sit at a desk and wrack my brain for words that just don't want to come! And as far as the up-coming month goes, I have to do all of the research and take all of the notes I need for my story. I am REALLY in hopes that this will be the best thing I have ever done in my writing - and THAT is a HUGE goal! (no pressure) Look, I am a writer and have been as long as I can remember (mom told me I was writing even at the age of four) and I know this will NOT be an easy feat. But there is one thing that is driving me forward.....THE LORD!!! He is the One Who has commissioned me to do this project. And if He has given me the task, He will provide me with all of the tools needed to complete the task.

So, all of that said.....I am asking that in the next few months, if you would please pray for this journey on which I will embark (notice no dangling participles) and the preparations I will need to make. And if you would like to private message me or email me, I will set aside a day once in a while to read your encouraging words and affirming notations.  I count myself blessed to know that each of you reading my blog and keeping me in your thoughts and prayers cares so very much.

Nursing Wounds

This may be the most difficult posting I have written since my humble beginning a little over five years ago. Not so much because of the content but because of what it reveals about me and my character. But, as usual, if someone is helped, then it will all be worth it.

I have a tendency to nurse old wounds. You know what I mean....It's when you take things from the past and dig at them a little, thinking you are helping yourself to the healing process when all you are doing is re-living the hurt,

I find myself ruminating more and reminiscing less. I have had to face some pretty darn challenging times in the last 5 years. Most of them I have put behind me and left them there. Others I put behind me and every now and again, I open that chapter and try to figure them out, waxing philosophical, and attempting to learn and grow. At other times, if I am completely honest with myself, I tell people I have put certain things in the past, when in fact they are still right there in front of me all the time because I keep "nursing" them.

Some people would say "you are doing great to even recognize that fact about yourself." Yeah, well, that may be true, but at the same time they don't have to live in my head and feel the pain I continue to cause myself. Self-inflicted pain is sometimes the worst, isn't it? So Why do I continue on this path? Perhaps it is the only way I know how? Well, that isn't completely true, is it? Maybe it is because there is something that I need to learn and then just let it go? True. I should always be learning from mistakes and heartaches.. But then where is the "let it go" part? 

When is the right time to let the things in the past be things in the past and REMAIN there?

Phantom

I have been curious about something as of late...the thought of phantom pains. The reason being is that I think I am feeling some kind of phantom pain where organs were a few weeks ago and are no longer there, So I did a little research and found out that it's not that uncommon. This terminology of "phantom" became known when people would have, for one reason or another, a limb amputated. They would tell the doctors that they were still experiencing sensations in a limb that was no longer there. Doctors referred to it as a phantom limb. The brain has a funny way of playing tricks on us, doesn't it?

This caused me to take a deep dive into the human psyche - or at least my psyche - and try to find some hidden gem of a correlation to the memory. And I discovered something rather interesting. We do the same thing in our lives, not just in a physical sense but in a psychological sense. Allow me to explain.

We all have experiences that cause us somehow to rely upon our memory to bring those experiences to the surface of our mind. Painful experiences are the most relevant here. We go through something traumatic, hurtful, painful, sad. Whether it be a death of a loved one, divorce, love lost, betrayal, and it still hurts long after the situation is over. Why? I do not intend to sound trivial here, but the fact is that we somehow experience "phantom" pain. The incident happened in the past, but we still experience the emotion as if it still continues to be there. 

In the case of something like a death of a beloved pet, that phantom pain helps us come to terms, in a slow way, with the fact that our furry family member will no longer be around. Our brain gradually brings to our conscience those pains less frequently. It eventually gets to the point where we mentally know it happened, but we do not live with the same pain.

In the case of a divorce, that phantom pain will oftentimes cause us feeling of remorse or guilt. The more we allow the pain to be in the present the more difficult it is to get past the pain. In circumstances such as that it helps that we have someone who will lovingly remind us that the relationship is no longer present-tense, but something that needs to be placed in the past in order for us to live in the present.

Does this make sense? I am no psychologist, but I do know the power of my own mind. I know that many times I feel the sting of something that is no longer there - that should no longer be causing me pain.

So when I feel a stab of pain, or a tingling sensation where I know for a fact nothing remains in my physical body, I will remember that my mind is still trying to catch up with my body. And in the same way, when I feel phantom pains of a past relationship, I will be more aware that it sometimes takes a while for the mind to process the memories and place them in the past, where they need to stay in order for me to be emotionally sound once more.

Recovery - Part Two

Before I get too carried away, I want to address a few things I forgot in yesterday's blog. And maybe you want to skip over some of the gory details, but I wanted to share, just for the sake of being thorough.

After I explained everything to the doctor, I asked him what his recommendation was. And his answer, "I wouldn't do it. I think it would be okay for the next year or so." But he added that he would leave it up to me. I had been weighing this for so long and now the DOCTOR was giving me pause. I just wasn't sure what to think. After a brief time I finally asked if there was any guarantees, that he could tell, that this "season" of my life would end in the next year. No. Could it be more than a year? Yes. That sealed it. I refused to live with the pain and poor quality of life, not knowing when "this was it". Let's do this!

When I was first told that I would be getting a hysterectomy, the doctor said that he wanted to use the robot. Since I had already had two c-sections, the scar tissue would be an issue, and he felt most at ease using the robot since he was able to see everything much better that doing it any other way. I was excited about that since I had actually seen the procedure being done. If you care to watch, here is the link: 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5T5DQI12mU

So....where was I? Ah, yes...."schooching" my behind on to the table in the OR....

That was the last thing I remember - Sad because I REALLY wanted to see the machine! No matter, I wouldn't have wanted to be awake for having the tube shoved in my throat. 

The worst part, for me, was the "waking up." I hate that feeling of being partially awake but being paralyzed. I recall being in my room and my hubby standing next to me - vaguely. I don't recall being in much pain at all, which is a good thing since I was still pretty drugged. I was slow in regaining full consciousness, but when I was fully awake, nurses were still swarming in and out of the room trying to get me to breathe. I thought I was! Apparently something wasn't quite right, so they brought in oxygen to have me breathe in through my nose.

I was awake now and my dear hubby said I must have still been a little loopy because I asked him the same questions more than once. He did tell me that things went well but that the doctor found some "issues" while performing the operation. Apparently one of the tubes that had been tied twenty-four years ago had some problems. Blood had backed up and formed clotting at the knot, which had caused me severe pain. I had even been in the emergency room twice in the last ten years because of it but it was never found. Also, my uterus was very swollen and enlarged, having caused cramping and heavier than normal bleeding. And the last surprise was that there was a growth on one of the ovaries. So, despite the fact that the doctor had wanted me to keep both ovaries, I was left with just one. And it was at that point that I realized that had I decided NOT to go through with this procedure, I would have just continued to be in excruciating pain until menopause. I said a silent prayer that it was all over. 

(I have since found out that the growth was nothing but a benign growth - nothing to be concerned about at all.)

But approximately an hour after I had gotten settled in my bed, I realized that there was something wrong with my chest. It hurt to breathe and I felt as if something heavy was compressing it. I told the nurse immediately and she started asking me all kinds of questions about a history of issues. All negative. She called the doctor who came in and asked the same questions. I began to get very nervous because as deep as I could breathe it hurt. They did not like the fact that my oxygen level was reading so low. The doctor ordered chest x-rays to be done immediately. I rested the rest of the afternoon and evening, trying to stay comfortable with oxygen in my nose, IV in my hand and nurses coming in every few hours to get my vitals. My oxygen levels remained low - too low for the comfort of the doctor.

Saturday morning, a new doctor came in. He ordered another battery of tests to be done to find out what was wrong. They had already begun treating me for pneumonia and now wanted to rule out blood clots and heart issues. I was transferred to another unit (one step below intensive care) to be monitored continually. Still no change. After a second round of antibiotics and a CT scan it was determined that one of my lungs had partially collapsed and I just needed to exercise it to get it "blown up." Once I was able to prove that I could breathe on my own and get the oxygen I needed (Sunday afternoon), they transferred me back to the floor I was on originally. All of the nurses were the same and were so glad that I was out of danger. They pampered me and made sure I was in want of nothing. The best part was the drugs of course. But I can honestly say that the worst of the pain had nothing to do with the surgery, or even the lungs. It was my neck where they had hyper-extended it to make sure the tube went down my throat and my arm bear the marks of blood oxygen testing and blown veins. 

So now I am home and resting. The doctor said days four and five would feel like a mack truck had hit me and I am starting to feel that way. It is day five of post-op and I just want to stay in bed. It honestly has NOTHING to do with the fact that over-did things and really hurt yesterday.....well....maybe it does a little. 

I am so thankful for all the prayers that have been lifted up for me. I honestly felt them. I know it will be a few weeks before I am allowed to do much of anything around the house - which is killing me, by the way. But I know that I don't want a repeat of this experience and I want to make sure that I stick around a long time, living my life to it's fullest, in a way I had never truly been able to do before.

I hope that you have found my experience to be encouraging to you. I know that I was not suffering from cancer or endometriosis or large fibroids, but each woman is different and no one is more important than another. It is unique to each of us. We must each weigh what is best for us and what we are willing/able to endure. Speak with your doctor, and if he/she doesn't "get" you, find someone who will listen and offer the guidance you need. We each deserve a full and "fulfilled" life. And only we can decide what that looks like. 

If you have any questions about my experience, please feel free to ask. Thank you for sharing in this journey with me.

Recovery - Part One

I am in recovery. Yes, and I am not doing as well I was hoping I would. For those of you that I have not talked to about this, let me backtrack a little and fill you in on what has been going on in my life for the last month or so.

A little over 3 months ago I had gone in to the free clinic and discussed some "female issues" with the RN. She talked to me and gave me some prescriptions ordered by the over-seeing doctor. Nothing more was said or done. I still experienced problems and called the receptionist back. I just unloaded on her that I really wanted to speak with a doctor about the feasibility of having a hysterectomy. Well, she was sympathetic but told me that the likelihood of my speaking to their resident GYN in the next three or four months was not good. My balloon was deflated and I was determined that the Lord just didn't want this for me. About a month ago I received a call from that same receptionist who told me that the GYN was going to be in the office the following week and wanted to consult with me. I was elated and nervous all at the same time. This was happening very quickly. I made arrangements to meet with the doctor and by the end of the consultation I had my surgery scheduled for the following month. The next few days was filled with excitement as I began preparing for the time I was going to be home and the recovery period. Then, while I was at work, I received yet another call saying that the surgery had been moved up and it would actually be the following week. I now began to panic. There was much to do and little time in which they were to be done. 

There was another aspect of this whole process that really stressed me. And that was the emotional side. Up until the very morning of the surgery I was still questioning whether or not I was making the right decision. I mean, this "season" in life was going to end in a few years anyway, right? There are so many women out there with terrible issues, and I felt inadequate to be having this done and they were being so brave and battling through the same issues I was complaining about. Was I being a big baby about the actual symptoms I was experiencing? At every turn I was getting encouragement from husband, family and close friends. 

So, with a little apprehension left, I pressed forward. I made arrangements at home and at work to be out of commission for a little over two weeks. I was receiving words of blessing and prayers for a quick recovery. The preparation for the surgery the day before was THE WORST! I was in such agony, but I made it through. (I would share details, but that is TMI) After too little sleep and a growling stomach, we were on our way to the hospital. 

While laying in a warming paper gown on an uncomfortable gurney, a too-tired husband at my side, I was prepped by a nurse. The anesthesiologist came to consult with me. The doctor stepped in to give me a  few words about the procedure, reminding me that I wouldn't remember what he would tell me after the surgery. After making sure I had no further questions, I was administered anesthesia and quickly taken to the ER. (I think they wanted to get me there before I fell completely asleep so that they could get me to scoot my big behind on to the table for the procedure.)

More to come.......


Hoping to be a blessing to someone who reads this,

Petra

Blessed Be The Name Of The Lord

There is a verse in the Old Testament that feels like my life verse at this moment. It is one that Job said when the Lord had allowed everything bad happen to Job. "The Lord gives and the Lord takes away; blessed be the name of the Lord."  Now you notice, I said that the Lord "allowed" things to happen? That is due to that fact that I firmly believe that as a child of God there is NOTHING that happens to me that He doesn't first filter through His sovereign hands before coming to me. And ALL of the things that come in to my life are going to somehow draw me closer to Him.

Lately I have been feeling a lot of the "takes away" part of that verse. I mean, he allowed my marriage and my kids to abandon me about four years ago. He has taken away my security in finances. Now I am having this surgery because a part of my body is no longer functioning, or needed, for that matter. It is being taken away as well. I have had friends filtered from my life and cars break down. Yes, there is a lot that has been taken away.

But I, like so many others in this world, seem to concentrate so much on the things that have been taken away that they fail to see what the Lord has given to them. Let me take the aforementioned subjects:  Yes, my marriage partner abandoned me, BUT I had twenty-three years with that man. That is a long marriage in this society. My kids abandoned me, but the Lord allowed me to have been their mother for a short while. The surgery? Well, I was able to bear two children and that is all the Lord had intended for me to "bear". The friends have been replaced with new friends and the car has always gotten fixed somehow to allow me to work. 

In addition, I have gained so much else - all things that the Lord has "given" me. I have a husband who loves me dearly and appreciates this new season in our lives, as we grow old together and learn more about life and each other. I have a step-son who needed me as much as I need him. He is a wonderful young man and I pray that the Lord will give me the wisdom to be what he needs. I am going to experience a new season in life as a fifty-plus woman who is comfortable in her own skin. I have a good boss who values and appreciates me as a friend and as an employee. I am truly blessed!

And if the Lord sees fit to take these away from me, as much as it will hurt me and cause conflict and stress, I will continue to wage the battle in my spirit to say with confidence. "the Lord gives and the Lord takes away, BLESSED be the name of the Lord!"

Random thoughts

Just some random thoughts as the surgery date gets closer:

I have LOTS of meals prepared in the freezer. Took me two days to complete but I am glad it is finished. Hopefully will decrease the stress PO (that's post-op). 

Started cleaning more thoroughly and still need to wash my kitchen floor. That will bother me if I don't get to it SOON! 

Call from Doctor's office came. Insurance called and everything has been approved. Good thing since the surgery is only three days away. 

Granny is going to be keeping son, which is a wonderful blessing. Love him dearly, but I know I will be lazing around for the first few days.

So....there you have it. Some random thoughts. I have some very deep thoughts formulating in my head that haven't "gelled" just yet. Will post them as soon as I can make sense of everything. 

I will tell you that I have a sense of peace about this surgery. Complete strangers have told me that they will be praying for me. New friends online are encouraging me. I am already able to help a few "on the other side" with a bit of humor. DH is planning to pamper me for two whole days! The Lord is giving me such a sense of being useful for His Kingdom. I am thankful and look forward to see how He will use this new season in my life for His glory.

Until the profound thoughts formulate,

Petra

Loss Without Grieving

Many people have experienced some form of loss in their lives. Some may have lost a loved one and they grieve every day. Some may have lost a pet and things will never be quite the same. Others may have lost  a marriage, and some may even have guilt in the midst of their pain. Some may have lost a dream for one reason or another. But, generally speaking, loss brings about some form of grief. Can you relate? I am sure that you are thinking of something right now, aren't you?

So, here I am being transparent and brutally honest. I AM NOT GOING TO MISS MY PERIOD! Whew but that felt so good to say! I even made up a little song last night about it the whole thing since I have my surgery scheduled. I will not miss the pain. I will not miss the cramping. I will not miss the extra bathroom runs during work. I will not miss trying to "hide" the feminine products when I go to the store . I will not miss embarrassing my husband by having him go and get them for me. I will not miss the extra mess in the bathroom every month. I will not miss having to find a female at the check-out register. I will not miss having to leave work because of an "accident." I will not miss not "being in the mood." I will not miss making sure I have a  bottle of Motrin with me at all times. Again, I am not going to miss my period - not one bit!

I am losing something, I do realize that. But I have a life to live and I am looking forward to being able to enjoy those in my life that ARE worth missing when they are not around. I am looking forward to the day when I can have my husband love me at any time. I am looking forward to spending time with my aging parents BEFORE they are gone. I am looking forward to being able to help friends who are suffering and hurting in their REAL losses. I am looking forward to feeling like a 'normal' human being, without the added stresses that I feel in just having been born a woman. I am going to be just as much a woman after my hysterectomy as I am right now, The difference is that after that scheduled date I am going to be able to ENJOY BEING a woman!

Transparency

So I am trying to determine how transparent I need to be in order to be helpful to some of you.  For the last few years I have been blogging about my feelings and many times I have been called to task in the accuracy of the statements that I have made. I assure you that my written expressions have been truthful, a healing balm to my spirit. 

Today I would like to start being quite frank with my sisters on this journey. Lately the abbreviations are my struggle:  DPO, PO, TVLO, DVLO, TVAH, LAVH. Then there are the terms and words that had once been labeled too personal to discuss in public:  drainage, gas, uterus, vagina, period. Can you venture a guess as to what I am referring? If you guessed hysterectomy, you are correct! I want to take you on a brief journey and hopefully I will not bore you.

Years ago I started noticing a few little changes. Digestive issues came on me during my cycle. I could feel twinges of paid during ovulation. Once I was admitted to the hospital because they believed something to be wrong with my colon. Overnight the Lord healed me. PTL! Then a few years ago my then-boyfriend (now husband) took me to the ER because of that same pain. The doctor could not determine the cause, stating that all that the tests showed was a fibroid. Since that time I have been struggling with some of the menopausal symptoms and it is driving me and my new family crazy! The irritability is the worst for them, the pain and cramping is the worst for me. Well, not having insurance is a negative for sure, but I found a free clinic and I was finally able to see a GYN. After discussing my case with him, he didn't think it would be necessary, but I insisted on having a hysterectomy. I want this over - and NOW! 

So, forward to today. I am less than a week from my scheduled surgery and I am pretty calm about it. I am going in to this with eyes wide open, having watched the ENTIRE procedure done on YouTube. (Isn't technology great!) I have already surrounded myself with several groups of women who are proving to be great! There is a website that answers so many questions: http://www.hystersisters.com/  There is a group of women on FB where I can find and give encouragement, have questions answered by others who have gone through the same things, and once I get to the other side I can offer my story as a way of encouraging others. It is a closed group, otherwise I would direct you to it. (Let me know in a PM if you would like the information.)

There you go. On Friday I will have my DVPH and I am thankful for the opportunity to share with you. I will be posting regularly about my specific experience. I am going to avoid sharing on FB. Please follow me here on this blog to get details and offer words of encouragement. Please avoid judgments. This decision was very personal for me and my husband and I have decided that it is the best for us. It may not be the best decision for every woman. 

Until my next update,

Petra

All for You, My Lord

This morning while I was getting cleaned up and listening to my Pandora, a song came on that I had heard many times, but a phrase stood out to me like it never had before: "All for you, God." I got to really meditating on that phrase. "Do I say those words?" "What so those words truly mean?" "Are they biblical?" 

Some analytical thinkers cannot comprehend the words I am about to say, but I "felt" the Lord speaking to my heart. He assured me of a few things and reminded me of others. All of which happened in a few seconds, I am sure. Nevertheless, my spirit was at peace with the words that I heard."I have allowed you to go through all you have gone through and all you are going to go through for one reason - to help others." Well, the Lord has definitely given me a heart for hurting women! I cannot count the number of times my heart ached when I was talking with a friend, acquaintance, or even someone on social media, when told of a problem or situation. And combine that love for hurting women with my love for writing, and VIOLA I have a way to reach out!


4 He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.
                                                                2 Corinthians 1:4 (NLT)

So, if I have to go through struggle in order to better understand my sisters and by my suffering am able to offer comfort in any way, then I will gladly avail myself to my Lord.

"All I am for you, oh Lord"

So, look for the next time I will pour out my heart. I will be sharing my struggles openly, in an effort to be transparent to you. I want you to know that, although they may not be the EXACT struggles, I do want to be there for you and offer you understanding, hope, and encouragement. 

Your sister in this journey,

Petra

R-E-S-P-E-C-T

This morning I watched an interesting video, and although I didn't understand the language, the subtitles and topic was made perfectly clear.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7FI2LY4dk-s

It got me to thinking about my own son. When he was very young that boy had a head of hair I loved. It was soft and curly, although it never stayed where I combed it. His big brown eyes were the most expressive ones I had ever seen in my life and I gave in way too many times to the sad look he gave me. In my eyes he was the perfect little boy. He allowed me to coddle him and love on him with hugs and kisses. He gave the biggest bear hugs. Quiet tears come to my eyes when I think of how much he loved me.

He got a little older and while many his age started pulling away from doing those sweet loving acts toward their moms, my son promised he would never get too old to kiss me on the cheek before going to school in the morning, no matter how old he got. He would sit with me, even in his pre-teen years and allow me to read to him. He would nuzzle against my arm and sometimes fall asleep - depending on the content of the book I happened to be reading. I counted myself truly blessed.

Then came the girls. My was he ever girl crazy. And the girls loved him in return. I kept thinking, "what's not to love?" He would talk about one or the other on a daily basis. My little boy was growing up. But he always seemed to have time for his mom. Life wasn't always easy for him. He did some pretty bad stuff, but I always stood by him and saw the best in him. Looking back now, I think I may have been the only one who did. 

Then came the big "D" and something happened to my son that I never expected in a million years. The once loving and caring young man turned against me in a way that can only be defined as demonic. This wasn't a case of a child being hurt or angry, he was plain evil. He turned on me. And now his actions are hateful and mean. 

He, since, has gotten married and is expecting a child of his own. And I shiver to think how he will  treat his own wife. Because most adults know, you can tell a lot about a person by the way they treat their opposite sex parent. I shudder to think the mean things he will say to her behind closed doors.

Going back to the video...I wonder at the amount of respect those young men truly had for their mothers to treat women walking down the street with such disrespect. I think a number of mothers around the world would be shocked to see how their sons treat women, and they, like me, may wonder "does my son truly respect me or is it all an act?" 

The sad part is, my son doesn't remember those times when he was younger. Those memories have somehow disappeared. But a sentimental mom, like me, will always cling to memories of that little wide-eyed boy whose whole world revolved around them. Yes, I want my boy to be a man, to be a good husband and father. But more than that, I want him to respect his mother and his wife and understand that you cannot expect respect without giving it in spades!

Until my next revelation,

Petra

Quotes

I love quotes. I love quips. I love it when they are in different fonts and colors. I love them so much I have an entire Pinterest board dedicated just to quotes and quips. It is very full! In fact it has over 400 pins! (Have I mentioned I am a Pinterest junkie as well?)

This morning as I was scrolling through Facebook, as is my customary habit every morning, I happened upon a quote by Charles Swindoll. It perfectly sums up what I have been saying to myself for a little over a week now and I just have to share it.

So I got to thinking about why I love quotes and short sayings so much. And I have made a decision. It is because I have a slight case of ADD. My brain, at times, can only handle a little at a time before it gets derailed and moves on. So, at times, like these wee hours of the morning, I do better with snippets of wisdom instead of deep, meditative portions of literature or non-fiction. 

These short and sweet sayings stick with me throughout the day and I attempt to repeat them to myself and, on occasion, my co-workers just because they are meaningful. Some are light-hearted and fun, while others, like the one above, remind me that I have purpose here on earth. And as long as I draw breath I have the opportunity to facilitate hope for those that hurt. Because, as a child of the Heavenly Father, I am called to share that hope that I have been given.

I just remembered something. As a teenager I had a friend who collected snippets and lines from books that he was reading in notebook that always kept in his shirt pocket. What an interesting idea! Couldn't he just have pinned it? Oh, I forgot. When I was a teenager, computers and internet were still a thing of the future. 

Until next time, may you find a snippet, a quip, a meme, or a quote and let it set with you throughout the day - until another one comes along and derails the first. 

Your friend,
Petra

Hurts and Pains

My heart is hurting for so many women around me right now.

There are women who are struggling with depression, having no one to turn to for consolation. They struggle every day just to get out of bed and get to work. They hide behind a pasted-on smile, hoping nobody asks them if they are okay; because they know at that point they would have to break down and cry. 

There are women who go to work in so much physical pain, but they cannot show it for fear of losing their jobs. They have mouths to feed and bills to pay, and these women know that they cannot give an inch to the agony that dwells inside their muscles and bones. 

There are women who have been betrayed. Friends who claim to be allies and yet turn and slander their characters on social media or in the workplace. These ladies have difficulty sharing so much as a cup of coffee with someone for fear of having their trust broken. 

There are women who cry themselves to sleep every night because their husbands have quit loving them. They struggle through every day facing problems that they never knew existed - death of dreams, not being able to trust another man, weighing out the cost of forgiveness. These women have been abandoned by the one person who had promised never to betray or leave them.

And there are women who hurting because of death - death of a husband, death of a child, death of an unborn child. Yes, death is final in the carnal sense, but the intense agony in living while your loved one is not...this is a pain I can never imagine. 

So, all of this said, I will repeat...My heart aches for these women. I want to help. And if the only way I can help is by letting each one know that you have a friend, a listening ear, encouraging words, I would be honored to help.

And as a friend recently reminded me, If all I can do is pray, then that is the absolute BEST thing I can do!

This blog is going to be one way I can reach out to women. I believe I have been called to write, and write I shall! The Lord impressed upon me recently that if I can only reach one person, that is enough. I hope to be a light in the midst of your darkness. I have had my share of struggles, and I will share some of those with you on this new journey. Hopefully we will all gain a new understanding of what it means to share in each others joys and sorrows.

A Fresh Start

I have been spending an awful lot of time meditating on the deeper things of life lately. I even went back and re-examined my old blogs to see how far I have come. I want to revisit one of my first blogposts. There are few updates I wanted to share. 

Saturday, June 30, 2012

Rainbows are special.  There is a feeling of fanciful-ness when one sees a rainbow.  I realize we should feel hopeful every time we see a rainbow, for that was the intent the Lord had for rainbows.  When do rainbows "appear."  Every time it rains, right?  But what if it rains and we see no rainbow.  Does it mean there is none?  No, it just means we aren't looking.  

I believe this to be true in our lives, too.  The Lord sends the rain in our lives, whether it is in the form of  a gentle rain to water our thirsty souls, or a thunderstorm to clear away all the dirt and grime that has accumulated in the dark recesses of our souls.  But no matter the reason the rain comes, there is always hope in the form of a rainbow.  All we need to do is look for it.  And sometimes, in order to see it, we just need to open our eyes! 

Lately, I have had a few rain showers in my life.  A failed relationship was a storm that came at a "bad" time.  But what came of it was a rainbow in the form of a friendship.  I am thankful for the hope it gave me that all relationships are not negative.  I had a thunderstorm in the form of clinical depression descend on my life, but I sat still in my car one day and saw my rainbow in the form of a trip to Europe.  It gives me hope that the Lord has a wonderful plan for my life and despite the mess I make in the mud puddles after that rain, He will still bless me and give me the desires of my heart if I wait patiently on Him.

There are some people in my life who cannot understand the actions I have been taking lately, but I do not hold it against them.  They just cannot see my rainbow. They cannot understand the fanciful-ness I am experiencing as I dance and sing under my personal rainbow.

Firstly - I know from experience that rainbows are there in the midst of the storm, and I am starting to look more carefully for the rainbows before I give up for lost.

Secondly - Blessings can come in many forms, from the smile of a stranger to a conversation with an unlikely friend to a hug from a co-worker. It can be in the form of music, a novel, or even a scene from a movie. It can come up from behind, from way out in front where someone turns to you, or from right next to you, possibly someone you have taken for granted.

Thirdly - The Lord is always the One to be praised for the rainbow, no matter what the form. 

Today is a new day!  My heart is full. My heart is decisive. My heart is broken. During this new season of blogging I have purposed that this will be about YOU, the reader. I am determined to share with you my heart, tips, advice, and lots of love and hugs. The reason? I am determined to bring hope to the hurting. Encouragement to the discouraged. Loved to those who feel unloved. I want to fulfill what I believe to be God's purpose for my life.

I have been through many storms. Some are known, some are unknown. But I have found a little ray of sunshine in each storm and I want you to be able to see your rainbows as well. My hope and prayer is that you will find Hope for your Journey just as I have.

Prayers and blessings,
Petra