Author: MenayO

On Bathing suits and being 45

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So…we leave for vacation soon. We’re going to a beach town and renting a beach house. We’re going with a couple of other families and we’re all friends and get along so it should be all good.

I’m going through my clothes and bathing suits deciding what to bring; what not to bring. Trying things on and being ultra critical. I know every woman goes through this. What to wear on the beach? Do I dare wear a bikini??  A two piece bathing suit that isn’t a tankini? I know I wrote recently about medication side effects and weight gain, but lately I’m starting not to care about the weight gain. I’m 45 years old and my days of wearing a bikini are definitely numbered. Plus I’ll only know the people who I’m sharing the house with, I won’t know anyone else so that is definitely a plus. Anonymity is absolutely an advantage.  I have a very nice, acceptable one piece bathing suit that I am very comfortable wearing, probably too comfortable. It’s blue and very nice. It’s done the job extremely well the past 2 years. So I’ll bring the safe blue one of course along with the tankini and bikini and cover up. There will be no photographic evidence of which bathing suit was chosen. I’ll most likely blog about it so you’ll have to stay tuned.

In the meantime I’ll keep trying things on and looking in the mirror.

My son and the Beach

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Thomas has been in the residential school now for just over 3 years. I was thinking back to when he was living at home. He was only able to live at home for about 3 and a half years between the first residential school (from ages 8-12) and the second (ages 12-16). It was nice having him home for that time. His meds were stable, Thomas himself was stable. We were able to do things like a “normal’ family. Even go on vacation and/or to the beach.

At the beach Thomas loved to look for shells, he did not like the water at all. In fact at one outing to a beach in NJ with my best friend and her daughters I actually lost Thomas. He took off without me looking for sea shells and when I looked around for him he was no where to be found. I felt the panic rising up. My best friend helped me look but all we saw was a sea of beach goers and not a sign of Thomas. I knew he didn’t go in the water but where the hell was he?  Every story I ever heard of people hurting those with special needs ran through my head. And I felt sick. I wanted to throw up. I couldn’t imagine how I was going to tell my husband that I lost our son. I figured I couldn’t go home and I would camp out at the beach until I found him. Eventually I grabbed hold of a life guard and explained the situation. They radioed down the beach and it just so happened another lifeguard had happened upon Thomas thinking he was lost. The lifeguards radioed to each other I was told to walk down the beach to a certain station and they had Thomas. As I was walking/running down the beach I saw Thomas walking with a very attractive and fit female lifeguard. His face lit up when he saw me, it was all I could do not to cry. I took custody of him and as we started waking back to where our things were, I teased him saying he wanted to hang out with the “pretty lifeguard” he smiled and then said, “Mooooom! You left me!” I laughed and told him I didn’t leave him; he left us by looking for shells. It really didn’t matter at that point, I was just glad to have him back.

With Thomas the way he is now I don’t see us going to the beach without extra help meaning one person just for him to watch him and keep him occupied. That is if we could even get him to the beach. Towards the end of Thomas living at home vacations with him were not fun. After changing meds because of a sharp decrease in his white blood cells, Thomas was not as stable as he was in the past. His behavior had changed and he became very stubborn. Even refusing to get out of the car when we arrived at the beach. When we did manage to get him out of the car he refused to even look for sea shells and he refused to leave the beach chair with umbrella bought especially for him.

I miss walking on the beach with Thomas. Trying to bribe him with a dollar or two or five to get his feet wet. The answer was always, “No” but with a smile. He has a great smile.

My Thoughts

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I’ve been thinking about my blog “traffic”. I get significantly more readers when I post about what’s on my mind or about my battle with depression/anxiety compared to the posts about our Lord and Savior. It’s interesting. I wonder if I offend people when I talk about God and worship and prayer. Or is it that people don’t care? It won’t make me stop and I’m not threatening to post more about God. I wonder if people think I’m up on a soapbox or a “Jesus freak”. I know a few of my friends on facebook are atheists or at least agnostic and that’s okay. I’m not trying to convert anyone I’m simply writing about what’s on my heart that day and my relationship with the living God. That relationship is the most important relationship I have. I would only hope that my written words will touch the heart of someone else reading. Perhaps open the eyes of someone who’s eyes are currently closed. If not, that’s okay as well it’s not in God’s timing to have their eyes opened.

When I write about my battle with depression and anxiety I truly hope I am helping someone who is in those shoes. At the very least help someone to understand what it’s like to walk in those shoes. I won’t be silent or embarrassed about anything I write whether the topic be God or depression. I don’t hide the fact that I take medication and I don’t hide the fact that I love the Lord. How to mesh those two topics is something I work on. I used to think I was depressed because I wasn’t praying hard enough, maybe I wasn’t “Christian” enough. I know now that I was wrong and God placed people in my life to help me. There are no coincidences. It was not a coincidence that my now therapist used to work with a former psychiatrist of my son. She called me out of the blue about 3 months before I needed her, looking for information for special needs adults where I live.  I called her later when I needed her advice in dealing with the school district when we decided that Thomas needed a residential school to meet his needs. I never expected her to become my therapist. She said to me after asking if I wanted to meet for coffee one morning, “You sound like you need a therapist”, I almost yelled, “I do!” It was no accident that she was put back in my life after not speaking to her for over 6 years.

I guess I’m back talking about not wanted to convert anyone. Actually I do hope my written words about God touches the heart of someone in need of a Savior. Honestly don’t we all need a Savior?

So these are my thoughts on this sunny beautiful Friday morning.

Oh Praise Him

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I woke up with this song running through my head. The lyrics are quite simple, telling us to praise Him…” all this for our King… He is Christ our King…” I think of how easy it is to praise Him when things are going good or “smooth” as I like to think. It’s when trials come that we are faced with the anger, sometimes feeling as though we’ve been betrayed by our Lord. I keep in mind our Lords Prayer and how we pray, “Thy will be done”.  We are actually praying for His will, His plan to be displayed not ours.  When I think of the lyrics to this song, “How constant, how divine, this song of ours will rise…” I am reminded of how constant His love is for us. How divine and beautiful that love is. It never fails. His love is infinite. He is holy.

I often think of people who question why do bad things happen if there is such a loving God? Why does God allow such evil things. I was asking those same questions when I had my first miscarriage. Why did God even allow me to become pregnant when He was only going to take it away? I had no answers then and I have no answers now. I do know that when I was finally pregnant and I didn’t miscarry I was blessed with a doctor who treated me like glass. I wouldn’t have had that kind of treatment from my care provider with my first 2 pregnancies that ended is miscarriages. This new to me doctor was truly sent from above. And if I never had the miscarriages I never would have met him and I certainly wouldn’t have my Samantha. Don’t get me wrong I was very angry with God at that time in my life. However His will was done and even though I thought I could never get through that painful time I did, but not without His help. I did eventually praise Him again and asked in prayer for Him to protect the growing child within me.

I’m sure we all go through a season where we aren’t praising Him. And we’re even angry with him for the “No” answers to prayer. Where we feel abandoned by our God. We need to hold on to His promise that He will never leave or forsake us. And even sing a song here and there that reminds us that He is holy.

Side effects and other thoughts.

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I haven’t made it a secret that I take medication to manage my depression and anxiety. Honestly I wouldn’t be doing as well as I am without the meds. However it comes with a price and for me that price is weight gain. I’m not happy about it at all. The one medication that is known for weight gain is the one medication that pulled it all together for me. It’s an SSRI (selective seratonin reuptake inhibitor) classification. And weight gain among others is a common side effect. I can live with the other side effects it’s the weight gain that’s bugging me the most.

I’ve taken to actually using our treadmill on a regular basis instead of vacuuming the dog hair off of it. My next step is to go to the gym instead of just talking about it and give the new sneakers I had to have a true workout. I remember reading about this medication when I first started taking it back in March of this year. I read the complaints about weight gain but I blew them off thinking, “that won’t be me”. I know I shouldn’t be complaining, I am feeling better and the world is a nicer place as a result of this new med.

I need to stop googling.

In other news I’m still waiting for the new job opportunity to contact me about starting their flu shot clinics. I’m eager to get started. I’m hoping the nose ring doesn’t conflict with their “business casual” dress code. I figure I can get to just about any part of Manhattan by 10 am during the school year after bringing Samantha to school. So now I wait not so patiently.

Adding To The New Ink.

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Tonight I’m going back to the tattoo parlor to have the tattoo artist add on to my newest tattoo. There’s a part near to my inner thigh that I’m not thrilled with. I’ve already discussed this with the artist and he knows what I want. I’m not looking forward to this visit as this last tattoo hurt like hell to have done. None of my other tattoos hurt like this one. I’ve also not received as many compliments on a tattoo as I’ve gotten on this one. Strangers stop me to comment.

I’ve also decided I want another tattoo on my right wrist it will either say “Blessed” or ” Believe”, I haven’t decided yet. I am blessed and I do believe, so there is my lack of decisiveness. I want to be able to cover the tattoo with my watch band or shirt sleeve if need be. The new job opportunity I’m pursuing has a dress code of “business casual” so I’m sure tattoos aren’t a part of that.

I’m leaving now, I’ll probably pick this up after the added on tattoo.

I’m back. The artist suggested another feather to cover the part that was bothering me.  I appreciate his opinion and artistry. Right now my leg is stinging and covered with a bandage. I’ll post a picture soon. A before and after sounds right.

When I quit smoking

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I recently celebrated 4 years of being a non smoker. I quit on June 27th, 2011. Cold turkey; no patch, no gum, no hypnosis, no electronic cigarettes. I’m glad I did it that way, it worked for me. Plus my husband challenged me holding an expensive, much wanted handbag over my head as a reward for quitting. I was a woman possessed and stalked the designer’s website. Every.Single.Night. Debating which bag I was getting.

I remember the kids were all home for the summer. I had read somewhere that it takes 3 days for nicotine to leave your system. Needless to say I was an anxious, irritable mess and my husband was questioning whether this was the best time for me to quit. He called me from work and heard in my voice the anxiety and irritability. He said, “You know…maybe this wasn’t the best time for you to quit what with the kids home all the time…”  I quickly answered, “Oh no…I’m not going back now, I’m 3 days in, I’m not going through these 3 days again!”

My only consolation was cleaning, or rather cleaning out closets and tossing things we no longer needed or thought we no longer needed. Thomas was my ever present helper. After I got done with the closets I felt at a loss, what to clean now?  Ah ha! The attic was perfect :). Armed with my trusty garbage bags, Thomas and I tackled the attic. It became comical after a week or two. Literally right after the trash was collected and our trash pails empty there I was ready to fill them again, and fill them I did. Tommy asked me to slow down. Nope. I couldn’t, I was a woman on a mission.

After a week had passed, it was July 4th. I announced to my husband that it was time to get my handbag I had called the boutique and they were indeed open! However I put a self imposed “catch” to this coveted handbag. I wouldn’t use the bag until I earned it. I would wait until the money I would have spent on smoking equaled the cost of the bag. It took three months believe it or not. I was a pack a day smoker so the cost of one pack of cigarettes times 90 days give or take equaled my beloved purse. I would take it out of the box and dust bag to stare at but I would not use her.

It’s been 4 years and I’d be lying if I said I don’t miss smoking. I do. I don’t miss all the risks and damage to my health. I don’t miss the smell. It’s funny I feel like I can smell a smoker a mile away these days. And part of me feels bad for them especially the young ones. I hope I never go back Tommy already said he’d take my bags away, I can’t have that!

Guidance and Trust

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I’m in a position right now where I have no choice but to trust in the Lord. Trust that I won’t fall flat on my face. Trust Him that the path he is leading me on is right. I won’t lie and say I’m not nervous; I am, but I keep telling myself that He won’t let me down, He is leading my way and all I have to do is have faith and follow.

I think back to when I was younger, before I was saved or born again. I still knew God was with me and no one else could lead me down the roads I traveled. He did go before me and that’s what I have to tell myself now. That He’s already been where I’m going. I think back to the first time we had to have Thomas live at a residential school. Thomas was 8 and Tommy and I took this decision very seriously and we were diligent when we visited schools I don’t know how we could not be as diligent as we were.This was a very difficult time in our lives. I remember visiting, I think it was the third school on our list. The first two were not places we wanted Thomas to be at, one was dirty and the other was 3 hours away. . Anyway we met with the admissions director and she reviewed Thomas’ “packet”  which is composed of every evaluation you could think of, including IQ scores. I remember touring the school and both Tommy and I loved it. I remember excusing myself to use the ladies room and while in there I prayed harder than I ever prayed in my life for Thomas to be able to attend this school. Before that day I’d always prayed for guidance and direction when it came to Thomas, That day however I was desperate and I know the Lord heard me. Thomas was accepted to that school. This difficult decision was made less difficult thanks to a loving God who heard my prayer and answered yes.

Today I still pray for guidance and ask for forgiveness when I doubt in Him. I ask the Lord to be with me when situations arise and I don’t feel confidant. I know He will never leave or forsake me.

My Grandmother

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I was reading another blog post about the writer’s grandmother and it made me think of my grandmother. She was the only grandmother I knew growing up and she was wonderful. Her name on her baptismal was Emilia but everyone called her Emily.  She wasn’t your typical kissy, huggy, “pinch your cheeks” kind of Grandma, instead we did kiss hello and it was only towards the end of her life did she want to hug you, however she was far from cold. You knew where you stood with her as she was very honest and rarely did you have to guess how she felt. She loved to craft and before arthritis set in she was extremely creative. To this day her family enjoys so much of her handiwork.

Grandma was born in 1910, September 14th. She had an alcoholic, abusive  father and was one of 6 children only 5 of which reached adulthood. One girl named Mary died of influenza I was told by her. Mary was 2 or 3 years old. My grandma was never educated past the 8th grade, she had to leave school and go to work to help support the family. When you spoke to her however you would never have known she had to cut her school years short. She was very sharp and on the ball. It took a lot to put something past her. She was also an excellent judge of character. When we were kids she would play all sorts of card games and Rummy Q with us. She was always there to teach us how to play some sort of game and help us with homework when she could. I remember math being the only subject she couldn’t help us with past the 5th grade.

She and my grandfather took us to church every Sunday. And in the spring and warmer seasons after church we would go to yard sales or flea markets. We loved that.

It wasn’t until I became an adult did I really appreciate her. I used to go to her house and help her clean and also change the curtains/drapes every other season. She wanted things just so and had specific directions almost perfectionist in nature. I didn’t mind though. I figured it’s her house why not do things the way she wants them done. I remember she wore Estee Lauder perfume and this orange/red lipstick whenever she left the house. After she died I looked at the lipstick and couldn’t think of any other person that color would look as good on. It was as if it were made specifically for her.

Growing up, holidays were held at her house, Grandma would bake a ton of pies for Thanksgiving and a ton of cookies for Christmas. The cookies were always served on this 3 tier china cookie server, it was so pretty. Christmas was my favorite holiday at her house. The tree was always decorated beautifully and just so. There was a Santa in his sleigh with 8 reindeer strewn across the top of the sun porch doorway. The rest of the doorways were adorned with the many Christmas cards that were sent to them. You couldn’t help but feel festive in that house.

When my grandfather died suddenly of a heart attack I was 14 years old. My grandmother was very stoic and reserved. I don’t remember seeing her cry but that doesn’t mean she never cried. I know she was devastated.  The holidays stopped being held at her house. My grandma also “stopped” in many ways. She changed her eating habits drastically and easily lost 20 pounds. She rarely cooked anymore. She would come to my mom’s house for dinner every Sunday. My sister and I would take grandma to her doctors appointments since she never learned to drive. She was always ready to give us money for gas which we fully appreciated.

I do miss her. I miss her honesty and directness. She wouldn’t say anything to hurt your feelings she just said it the way she saw it without malice.Every now and then my husband will say I remind him of my grandmother and I am flattered. To me it’s a huge compliment.

Identity

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Recently I was asked how do I identify myself. I started with the usual, “wife and mother”, then after some thought proudly proclaimed, “Nurse!” That one caught me completely by surprise as until recently I didn’t identify myself as a nurse, just someone who pierced ears for a living. I am piercing ears as an RN at a company that performs ear piercing performed by Registered Nurses. Anyway…we went through the other identities such as sister, daughter, and I almost forgot Christian. I wanted to face palm myself. How did I not say that first? I was disappointed with myself. I mean I’ve been a wife and mother for the past 20 years so those were a no brainer. “RN” was said after some thought and I am proud of myself for reinstating my license and actually securing a job after all these years. Being a Christian is a huge part of my identity. The fact that I believe and worship Christ affects every part of my day and my actions. Unfortunately I’ve taken it for granted. Taken for granted the privilege a lot of people in this world do not have.

I didn’t realize how my faith is transparent to people who know me.  My therapist was the one who asked me to identify myself. She was the one who said, “Christian, Menay you’re a Christian” when I became stuck at labeling how I see myself. My therapist is not a Christian and I adore her. She brings up my beliefs and how I pray quite often. She understands how important my faith is to me. I think she appreciates my faith in God more than I do sometimes. When the depression was hitting hard, I still prayed, probably more than I pray today. I prayed for Him to take the depression away. And He did by having the right doctor and therapist in my life. God placed those people here, there was no chance meeting. I don’t believe in coincidences.

I would ask anyone to label their identities, it’s a real eye opener and makes you appreciate what you gloss over or don’t think is important enough to identify.