I am
terrified of curtains. And paint. Petrified of them.
Why, you might ask, would you be so scared of such mundane things? Let me tell you why.
Because last April, after we had moved into our house and were finally feeling settled, we had this feeling of contentment. We were living the veritable American dream. We had two kids, two cats, good vehicles, a gorgeous home, good jobs, and were happy in our marriage. We had been through hell and back, and we finally felt like we could breathe a sign of relief.
Until May 23rd hit. Then, all hell DID break loose. A friend of mine had asked me a few weeks earlier, aren't you waiting for the other show to drop? Well, it had already been put into motion. Apparently.
How does this relate to paint and curtains? I am terrified to commit to anything concrete, to commit to anything that is going to tempt fate again. Our house was a foreclosure, and the real estate company/bank had come in and repainted the house all white. No color. Stem to stern, white. I am absolutely petrified to paint the house. Putting my mark on it will no doubt give into the complacency that I fear. And, I want to be anything BUT complacent.
And, curtains? Again, by putting my mark on this house, I am really just asking for everything in my life to come to a screeching halt, and for the worst-case-scenario situation to happen.
Odd, isn't it, that such a positive, optimistic person has these thoughts?
I don't think so. My husband and I are struggling to pay bills. Anyone who regularly reads this blog knows that he was out of work for 6 months. And, then had to go to NY to get a job, and a significantly lesser paying one at that. We haven't seen him in almost 2 1/2 months. He is missing his kids, and I can't do anything about it. I am missing my husband, and raising our kids on my own, and we can't do anything about it.
I am terrified that we are going to lose our house. Like so many other people, we are literally in a situation where I am making the choice between food and mortgage. Car payment or diapers. Which do you think takes precedence? Has been taking precedence for long enough that I dread answering the phone?
Perhaps, if I don't personalize the house any longer, (maybe take down the curtains I put up in the bathroom?), I will stop tempting fate. Maybe, this will help.
Silly, I know. I can't help it. But, it's there. I wonder if we have, for so long, lived in a life of temporariness that getting to a point of solidity, of having roots, of being settled, isn't what we are supposed to have. Are some people just destined to live in apartments, to move hundreds of times in their lifetime? Are some people meant to live the life of nomads?
I hope this isn't us. Not for Levi and I, but for the kids. As I sit here, my kids are playing with the next door neighbors. Julia spent the afternoon at their house, swimming and playing. Now, that little girl is over here. I love that she's making friends, and yet, I am terrified that one day soon, I am going to have to explain to her why we have to move yet again. It breaks my heart.
How does this relate to cancer? Don't we all fear living a life of complacency? Don't we all worry that this ugly cancer will rear it's nasty head once again, and ruin the good life that we have built? Isn't that what it did the first time?
I know that, on top of everything else, I have my tests coming up. They say that you aren't given more than you can handle. Right now, I'm not so sure. It feels like impending doom right now - I worry about losing my house. I worry about losing my car. I worry about how my body is doing. I worry about the cancer - has it come back? Is it sneakily working it's way to other body parts? Is this stress allowing my immune system to be beaten down enough to allow the cancer to rise back up and try to conquer once more?
These aren't good things to be thinking, but there they are. Honestly, this is how I feel. I am an optimistic person by nature, but lately, it's been a struggle. I see the good things in life, but with so many bad things going on, it's really getting harder and harder to find the things to smile about. When I do, they seem that much sweeter.
I know that this reasoning is why I have had such a hard time admitting that I'm a survivor. Again, survivor indicates some sense of ending of the battle. I don't want to ever end this battle. I am a cancer ass-kicker. That, to me, indicates a sense of continued fight, a victory without completion of the fight. And, that's what I want to portray. I don't want to be someone who has ended their fight - I want to continue mine.
Whether it's from here, in my beautiful home, or in an apartment.
*sigh*
Why, you might ask, would you be so scared of such mundane things? Let me tell you why.
Because last April, after we had moved into our house and were finally feeling settled, we had this feeling of contentment. We were living the veritable American dream. We had two kids, two cats, good vehicles, a gorgeous home, good jobs, and were happy in our marriage. We had been through hell and back, and we finally felt like we could breathe a sign of relief.
Until May 23rd hit. Then, all hell DID break loose. A friend of mine had asked me a few weeks earlier, aren't you waiting for the other show to drop? Well, it had already been put into motion. Apparently.
How does this relate to paint and curtains? I am terrified to commit to anything concrete, to commit to anything that is going to tempt fate again. Our house was a foreclosure, and the real estate company/bank had come in and repainted the house all white. No color. Stem to stern, white. I am absolutely petrified to paint the house. Putting my mark on it will no doubt give into the complacency that I fear. And, I want to be anything BUT complacent.
And, curtains? Again, by putting my mark on this house, I am really just asking for everything in my life to come to a screeching halt, and for the worst-case-scenario situation to happen.
Odd, isn't it, that such a positive, optimistic person has these thoughts?
I don't think so. My husband and I are struggling to pay bills. Anyone who regularly reads this blog knows that he was out of work for 6 months. And, then had to go to NY to get a job, and a significantly lesser paying one at that. We haven't seen him in almost 2 1/2 months. He is missing his kids, and I can't do anything about it. I am missing my husband, and raising our kids on my own, and we can't do anything about it.
I am terrified that we are going to lose our house. Like so many other people, we are literally in a situation where I am making the choice between food and mortgage. Car payment or diapers. Which do you think takes precedence? Has been taking precedence for long enough that I dread answering the phone?
Perhaps, if I don't personalize the house any longer, (maybe take down the curtains I put up in the bathroom?), I will stop tempting fate. Maybe, this will help.
Silly, I know. I can't help it. But, it's there. I wonder if we have, for so long, lived in a life of temporariness that getting to a point of solidity, of having roots, of being settled, isn't what we are supposed to have. Are some people just destined to live in apartments, to move hundreds of times in their lifetime? Are some people meant to live the life of nomads?
I hope this isn't us. Not for Levi and I, but for the kids. As I sit here, my kids are playing with the next door neighbors. Julia spent the afternoon at their house, swimming and playing. Now, that little girl is over here. I love that she's making friends, and yet, I am terrified that one day soon, I am going to have to explain to her why we have to move yet again. It breaks my heart.
How does this relate to cancer? Don't we all fear living a life of complacency? Don't we all worry that this ugly cancer will rear it's nasty head once again, and ruin the good life that we have built? Isn't that what it did the first time?
I know that, on top of everything else, I have my tests coming up. They say that you aren't given more than you can handle. Right now, I'm not so sure. It feels like impending doom right now - I worry about losing my house. I worry about losing my car. I worry about how my body is doing. I worry about the cancer - has it come back? Is it sneakily working it's way to other body parts? Is this stress allowing my immune system to be beaten down enough to allow the cancer to rise back up and try to conquer once more?
These aren't good things to be thinking, but there they are. Honestly, this is how I feel. I am an optimistic person by nature, but lately, it's been a struggle. I see the good things in life, but with so many bad things going on, it's really getting harder and harder to find the things to smile about. When I do, they seem that much sweeter.
I know that this reasoning is why I have had such a hard time admitting that I'm a survivor. Again, survivor indicates some sense of ending of the battle. I don't want to ever end this battle. I am a cancer ass-kicker. That, to me, indicates a sense of continued fight, a victory without completion of the fight. And, that's what I want to portray. I don't want to be someone who has ended their fight - I want to continue mine.
Whether it's from here, in my beautiful home, or in an apartment.
*sigh*
Comments:
oh
hon...
how I wish I was there right now!
If it helps at all, Kevin spent the day painting the nursery. It is the first "real thing" we have done to our home since moving in two years ago. The nursery walls are no longer white, and it is really refreshing to walk ny the room and know it is "ours".
I say that you go and get a can of paint, slap it on the wall. It is your wall. Do what you want, it will make you feel lots better and remember you can only take it a day at a time.
still prraying...
love you!
how I wish I was there right now!
If it helps at all, Kevin spent the day painting the nursery. It is the first "real thing" we have done to our home since moving in two years ago. The nursery walls are no longer white, and it is really refreshing to walk ny the room and know it is "ours".
I say that you go and get a can of paint, slap it on the wall. It is your wall. Do what you want, it will make you feel lots better and remember you can only take it a day at a time.
still prraying...
love you!
June
14, 2009 at 7:02 PM
All
I can do is pray for you, and I am!
In spite of everything you are going thru personally, you still spend so much time and effort helping everyone else! You deserve some blessings!
I say buy some bright paint from the "returned" paint section of the hardware store(its cheap!) and splash some paint on your walls. Have fun with it--its not going to change anything, but it might be fun!
In spite of everything you are going thru personally, you still spend so much time and effort helping everyone else! You deserve some blessings!
I say buy some bright paint from the "returned" paint section of the hardware store(its cheap!) and splash some paint on your walls. Have fun with it--its not going to change anything, but it might be fun!
June
14, 2009 at 7:26 PM
Wow...
You have had a lot on your plate.
so........
DO IT!!! Paint and make it fun!!! Have a little painting party with some friends over. BYOB(bring your own brush)
praying for you :)
ps. you know fate is a bunch of crizap anyway... You know whos in control... and it sure aint fate.
(((hugs)))
so........
DO IT!!! Paint and make it fun!!! Have a little painting party with some friends over. BYOB(bring your own brush)
praying for you :)
ps. you know fate is a bunch of crizap anyway... You know whos in control... and it sure aint fate.
(((hugs)))
June
14, 2009 at 8:05 PM
I
am sorry life has given you such a bowl of lemons in the past year. In the
scheme of things, I would prefer to worry about curtains and paint than to
worry about stupid ass cancer.
June
15, 2009 at 4:02 AM
Been
there, felt that way - it sucks.
Hang in there - and go ahead and paint a wall!
Hang in there - and go ahead and paint a wall!
June
15, 2009 at 6:38 AM
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