The Icy Outskirts

We used to keep our bedroom window open at night to hear the rushing water of the creek behind our cabin. Such a relaxing sound. There were no neighbors or traffic to disturb the peace and tranquility of that mountain home. In the winter, the windows were closed and the creek would start to freeze over. The shallow pools along the edges developed a thick slab of ice - enough to walk around on - and the moving water had to fight to get through small channels to keep moving. The closer the water came to the edge, the slower it became, and sometimes swirled around in the same area until it, too, froze in place, postponing its journey until the spring thaw.

Yesterday was our Manna Run at DDIP. The cold air was tough on my lungs and I had a coughing fit when we arrived at Manna on Main Street. Because of this I wasn't able to help pass the food down the chain. Drill noticed me hanging back and shouted "Stoney, why are you on the outskirts?"

We've been having a really good session so far, with challenging workouts and motivated people. Nobody knows exactly what the magic formula is that makes this one stand out so much but others have noticed it as well.

In my case, I feel like I have shaken off a heavy weight. My head is clearer and I feel more focused. I'm not out to prove anything this time around, just to get stronger. And I think, for me, the change has something to do with influence.

I won't go into detail but I think I can pinpoint where I took a wrong turn and let the influence of others draw me to the icy sidelines and slow me down. It was a gradual process, the swirling in circles until I dropped out mid-session to get my head on straight.

I had drifted to the outskirts and got caught up in a cycle of people-pleasing that distracted me from my focus. When will I ever learn? Even at my best, I do not have what it takes to make the whole world happy. 

Since the holidays, I feel like I have more confidence and a firmer grasp on who really plays active roles in my life and who draws me to the cold outskirts.

It feels like this is going to be a good year. A year of being who I am without apology. A year of challenging myself to new heights - such as the cargo net I mentioned in my last post. In case you were wondering, I have climbed all the way to the top several times now. And it's only January.

Hay Loft

It felt like a privilege to be up in the loft, watching Daddy work, so I did my best to stay out of his way. He was tidying up, using the pitchfork to gather and stack loose hay, probably to make room for new bales coming in from the pastures. I took a step back as he changed directions. He sharply said my name and I stepped back again, thinking I was still in the way, but that wasn't it at all. I gasped as my foot went through the opening where the ladder is, and down I went. My leg caught briefly on one of the rungs of the ladder and I saw Daddy reaching down for me, fear in his eyes, before gravity compelled me the rest of the way down. Nothing was broken, but there were bruises - lots of them. That may have been the day my fear of heights was born. I was eight years old.

A lot of people have a fear of heights, so I've been okay with mine. Until now.

In college, I was in ROTC. We learned rappelling - bounding off a building with a rope. The first time we were to try it, off the mezzanine in the gym, I was kind of excited. The guys made it look so fun. But what looks fun from the ground looks quite different from the top. I was all snug in my Swiss seat, and the instructor was handing me the rope. Everyone was doing their thing, high on adrenaline, having fun, but I was too busy watching my life flash before my eyes.

All I had to do (all I had to do!) was stand on the ledge with my heels over the edge, lean back into an L shape with my feet against the building. (I have stopped typing to wipe the sweat off my hands twice already, just telling the story), then bound down. I knew the steps. I knew I was safe. But knowledge is no match for raw terror. So I got off that wall my own way. I cried, blubbered, begged, and made a fool of myself until the let me walk back down the stairs.

We went away for a weekend of training at Fort Indiantown Gap, where this challenge presented itself again. There were two towers. One was 60 feet high. My husband took it in two bounds. (He was also able to rappel forward, spread-eagle, like a skydiver, which I watched him do off the school building as part of an ROTC demo for incoming students. I don't think he has the slightest fear of heights.)

The other tower was 30 feet high. I was determined to do it this time, and the instructor was able to coax me backwards off the ledge. I cannot explain how much fun it was to bound down the wall. Once I cleared the edge, it was exhilarating! Still high on that experience, I did it once again before the fear came back.

It is hard to understand why I still have a paralyzing fear of heights after such a victory, but remembering how that victory felt is motivating me to take action.

In the gym where we have boot camp, there is a vertical cargo net hanging next to the foam pits. It looks pretty high but I won't try to guess how high. I want to climb to the top. Today I tried it for the first time and got halfway up before giving up. Next time I'll try to wait longer before I look down.

I can do this!

Rainbows and Resolutions

We discovered that our tent was in the lowest part of the campground after the first night. We moved everything out of our tent and attempted to dry it off with our beach towels in the bright morning sun. This set the stage for the remainder of our honeymoon, in which each day followed suit with a night-time rainstorm and beautiful days spent drying everything out again. We had an air mattress to sleep on, so at least we could keep ourselves dry. It was not the honeymoon we would have signed up for.  Many people might have considered it ruined, or bickered about who's idea this was. Many would probably have even cut it short. But we made fun memories that week. We made the most of the sunshine with deep sea fishing and sunning on the beach. When we talk about that little vacation, even memories of those rainy nights make us smile, because it was all part of a grand adventure.

After the last few months, this Christmas season was very much like the rainbow after a heavy rainstorm. I would say this has been the most enjoyable Christmas ever. It was very relaxing and drama-free. We isolated ourselves, just our immediate family, and did not succumb to the pressures of the expectations of others. It felt like we were on vacation. Instead of getting all stressed out trying to please people we only see at holidays, we focused on spending quality time with those who love us all year long. It may be controversial, but I think this is how it should be.

I'm not much for New Year's Resolutions. In the past I have enjoyed telling people that my resolution was to quit smoking. The idea was that someone would say "but you don't smoke", so I could reply, "exactly, so this resolution is sure to be a success!" Nobody really caught on, though, and that conversation never actually happened the way I imagined it would.

This year I have a good one. I'm not calling it a resolution, though - more of an objective. My objective for this year is to stop looking for validation and approval from others. I think this is where I went wrong over the last year. I have given people too much power over me in that way, and now I'm taking it back.

My hubby said it best, without saying a word, when he gave me one of my Christmas gifts - a 13.1 magnet for my car. With that gesture, he gave me all the validation and approval I needed. He told me he was proud of me, and made me feel proud of myself. I don't need validation from anyone else. I already have it from those who love me all year long. I love my family. They are where my heart is. <3

Peace

We walked outside and looked up at the giant expanse of stars. Their abundance and clarity took my breath away. It is amazing what you can see without light. In town where we live now (the "city" as I call it, though it really isn't), we would never see so many stars with the intrusion of street lights and other light pollution. But when we lived in the cabin in the mountains, set apart from the rat race, we could see this on any clear night. On this occasion, my husband was pointing out things he had been learning in his "Observing the Summer Sky" class. He really enjoys sharing what he has learned, especially if it's science or nature. Sometimes, today I long for a place to go where I can have such a clear view of that vast, peaceful, breathtaking, sparkling, night sky. It's still there, I just need to step away from the distractions to find it.

When I had the panic attack, I felt like I was pinned down to my chair. We were in a prayer meeting (we have those where I work). Everyone had just bowed their heads to pray and it hit me hard. I had an overwhelming urge to flee. I felt like I couldn't breathe. I kept opening my eyes to try to push away the images that were flooding my mind. Images of a crime I never witnessed, but heard too much about. I don't know what was said in the prayer meeting because I was too busy fighting - really fighting. Tears were rolling down my cheeks even though my eyes were squeezed shut as tightly as I could squeeze them. It was terrifying.

Almost a week ago I had a similar, yet opposite experience. I was visiting a church that one of my boot camp friends goes to and they were singing songs. (Fun fact: all music is a capella at that church. No instruments.) I didn't know the songs but something in the words hit me. Something about God's Son dying. It was the realization that, through all my anger and grief over that little girl being killed in our neighborhood, God not only knew how I felt, but how her mother felt. He knew exactly what it felt like to lose a child. I couldn't say to God, "but You don't understand!" And I wasn't alone.

I felt like all that weight was lifted off of me and I felt like I could just melt into a heap in my chair. I didn't want to run, but I was fighting tears. I really didn't want anyone to see me and think I was crying because I didn't like their singing. It was a healing moment for me. I felt like I was able to let it go and move forward.

Christmas is just over a week away and my prayer is that Skylar's mother is surrounded by love and peace and all the happy memories she has of her little girl, who's spending this Christmas in heaven.

Grasshopper

I walked out to the end of the dock with the "battleship" I had made by hammering nails into scrap pieces of wood. In my other hand was a poor, unsuspecting grasshopper, struggling to free himself from my grasp. I knelt on the dock and reached down to place the battleship on the water, then set the grasshopper on top to captain his new ship. It took a few tries to convince my little friend to stay on board - it could have been exhaustion that finally won him over. After all, an insect is no match for an eleven-year-old tomboy on a mission. I laid on my stomach on the dock and gave the ship a gentle push, then rested my chin on my hands while I watched it drift away. I would have supplied the captain with oars had I thought he'd appreciate the gift, but I knew better. His path was now up to the wind and chance.

This year has been full of very high highs and very low lows. I've experienced the exhilaration of setting and reaching big goals. I've faced, though not necessarily conquered fears. I've been horrified by a neighborhood tragedy that introduced me to my first bout of real depression, and my first real panic attack. I've had friends who endured, friends who only passed through, and friends who were never real to begin with. The best times always had to do with my family and my friends - the real ones.

The worst times always came down to my search for control in an out-of-control world. People say it all the time. Life is messy. For some reason, when I hear that, the version of "messy" that comes to my mind is more like a kitchen after a baking spree. A mess that is obviously going to result in something wonderful that is already starting to smell delicious. A mess that a little time and elbow grease will clean up good as new. In reality, life's messiness is not nearly as fun. There may be disappointment, heartache, pain, and devastating loss. It does not smell delicious. It usually stinks.

I've struggled with my faith a lot over the last year. I've been angry at God, angry at people, and often angry at myself. While I'm told - and I know deep down - that God is in control and that He knows where all of this is going, I have been constantly battling the nagging question, can He really be trusted?

He is consistently holding on to me while I've been struggling and fighting against Him every step of the way. I'm sure that, in His own way, he's whispering to me, "be still little Grasshopper, I've got you."

Branches in the Path

I followed Pikachu and Ash Ketchum around the neighborhood, marveling at the havoc that had been created by the unseasonal snowstorm. Never before had the little costumed kiddos been able to hold their trick or treat bag in one hand and a snowball in the other. Neighbors had gathered the fallen branches into piles along the curb so the children would have clear paths for walking, but there were still puddles of melted snow to contend with. It was not the path we were used to and we had to slow down a bit and take our time. Some paths are like that. You might know the way but for a brief time, you need to slow down and protect yourself.

I was not at all excited about taking the kids out for Halloween this year. All I could think about what how little we know our neighbors. My mind kept returning to the tragedy of the little girl who was murdered just two blocks from our house a few months ago. The killer was her neighbor. But, for the sake of my children's happiness, I took them out and watched them very carefully, just as I always have.

After a while I started to feel a little better about our neighborhood. The kids were seeing lots of friends from school. Very kind grown-ups were handing out candy and looking very amused by the various costumes. Some adults even answered the door in costume themselves. That evening was an exercise in facing my fears, which is something I need to work on. I have many of them.

Other than that night, I've been pretty quiet lately. I have not been myself and quite a few people have noticed. I have little interest in the things that usually interest me. I read through a list of symptoms of depression and many of the symptoms fit. I can't pinpoint a reason, or a trigger, or a cure. If it were someone else, I would give them sound wisdom to "find your happy" or "cheer up" or "count your blessings" or "snap out of it."

I suppose this is where I learn why I would be wrong.

I made a snide little joke to myself the other day - I found a way to get peace and quiet, just be depressed and your friends will scatter.  I think when someone is going through a tough time, people are going to have one of three possible reactions. Say nothing. Say the wrong thing. Say just enough and be patient.

I can tell you without hesitation that my response would be one of the first two. I avoid uncomfortable situations like the plague. I don't trust myself to talk and when I do think I have something wise to say, it's usually wrong.

In my case, I have found that it hurts to hear how I'm disappointing someone - they won't use those words but in an effort to help me snap out of it they will chastise me on how my situation is affecting others or that they expect more from me.

Oddly I have not felt abandoned by those who have been quiet. And the ones who said "just enough" were the ones who said. "I'm here if you need to talk," but asked nothing of me. I wish I could just jot all this down for future reference and let this life lesson be over, but I suspect it will take a little more time until I'm feeling like myself again.

I also suspect that the tragedy of Skylar Kaufmann has affected me more than I ever realized. It shook my sense of security and brought all my worst fears to the surface. And maybe the approaching Halloween season - thinking of children out mingling with neighbors - was the storm that littered Stoney's Path with debris.

Before Dawn

The flashlight I held did very little to guide me. I only used it to see my husband's feet so I would know where to step as I followed him through the darkness. He had a better light, and a better idea of where we were going. I trust him completely and felt no need to look around to get my bearings. I wouldn't be able to see anything anyway. We reached the designated tree and he cleared a nice comfortable spot for me in the most chivalrous fashion. I sat and leaned on the tree to wait. In the distance I saw a small light. Another hunter had set up and it made me nervous, but we knew he saw our lights as we approached. It was far enough away and we had our blaze orange on so we would be safe. As shapes of trees and rocks emerged from the darkness into a hazy dawn, a startling blast of shots rang out. Shooting hours had begun. We heard pellets rain down all around us and realized that the other hunters were less safety conscious than we were.

Last week one of my friends came up to me and told me a little story. She told me that she had seen her doctor about a year ago for depression. She told me what medication he prescribed and how it had really helped her. Other people who know me have been showing a little extra concern for my well-being. Friends and coworkers asking if I'm ok, telling me I don't look well. (Gee thanks).

I wouldn't call myself depressed. It's not me, it's my circumstances. It's not me, it's other people.

Right?

I dodge the questions. I try to turn it around and get them talking about themselves, or somehow distance myself from them. The last thing I want is to be that person who brings everyone down with her. Nobody needs to follow me into this dark place where my fears and insecurities live.

There are sources from where all this self-doubt comes. There are sources of the hailstorm of negative thoughts raining down around me. Those who do not have my best interest at heart, but their own. Those who want their own trophies at all costs, no matter who runs away crying and injured. And I'm not the only target.

I should be feeling pretty good about myself. I accomplished something big a few days ago. But it does little to repair my fractured self-worth. I don't even feel worthy of telling anyone about the accomplishment. I'm avoiding people. I'm closing in. I just need a little time to navigate this darkness on my own. It's only temporary.