Channeling your child's pain

(May 2012) Originally entitled, "How I Clinched the Worst Mother of the Year award for 2012". Today was my 8 yr old daughter's dance recital. It was a big deal. For the uninitiated, as I was prior to this evening, this is an event for which children miss school and parents pay prime parking fees to park downtown for an 11 hour day of rehearsing, costume changes, make-up, hair curling...and if you're lucky enough to have the recital at Pantages Playhouse, roughly the equivalent of 1 hour on the stairmaster trekking from the dressing rooms in the basement up 2 flights to the stage, back down to the basement, up 6 flights to the balcony (thoughtfully reserved for dancers and their lucky chaperones), and on and on (or, rather, up and down). Leading up to this exhausting day was 9 months of lessons, 2 local dance festivals, $120 worth of recital tix, several communications from the dance studio - in writing - regarding the schedule of events, the rules, and the responsibilities of the chaperones. Every dancer there had a chaperone. We had one job - get our child to the stage in time for their dance(s). I may not be able to prove this, but I have a strong suspicion I am the only parent who failed in this task tonight. We made it through Act 1, and the first dance went smoothly. By the end of the first act, my 8 pm bedtime daughter was falling asleep against my shoulder. Intermission came, we descended to the basement to change costumes, plied the child with snacks and juice, remembered to take alternative dance shoes for the big finale, and climbed back to the balcony. Once there we were subjected to thank yous and introductions of sponsors and plaques and generally stuff I find difficult to appreciate, especially with a sleepy child who still has to dance a tap routine and a big finale (and technically go to school the next morning - well that was scrapped). The dance numbers started, it was hot, my daughter snuggled against me, and it was nice until we heard the opening notes of her tap routine music. My first thought? They were playing the wrong music. Not so - there on the stage, 4 flights of stairs below us was Jenea's tap class, without her. I cannot believe or describe the feeling of horror and devastation in my gut. She was missing her dance. Right then. We had forgotten to go backstage and it was too late. My mind tells me this is not the worst thing in the world that can happen, and really I've done far worse things as a parent, so why worry... but that feeling of shock and horror does not go away. I would liken it to a bride preparing for her wedding day, only to find she has missed the ceremony. Except, the ceremony wouldn't just go on without her. Of course, Jenea was devastated. Add that to the tiredness and there was no way to comfort her. I am very proud of her that she did pull it together and perform the finale. I know she will forget about this so much faster than I ever will. So, here's the part of my brain that thinks it should be able to understand every emotion before the emotion may exist saying, "what's the big deal? It's not the end of the world. No permanent damage done and you can't go back and change it so why cry over it?" But it honestly feels like the worst day of my life as a parent. I keep telling myself not to question but just let myself feel the feelings, whatever they are. So much pain! Why so much pain? Which eventually led me to question if this is how God feels (somewhat) when we are in deep pain. Whether that pain is justified, or results from immaturity or lack of understanding - whatever - He feels our pain. I wondered if I was feeling Jenea's pain. Because to her, it didn't matter why it happened. And she didn't blame me at all. It just happened, and it hurt so much. And she just had to feel that pain. And there was nothing I could do to take it away.

Groanings

And possible weeping and gnashing of teeth. The black hole of my ADD brain is reaching its inky fingers into my heart and soul, chanting hopeless, hopeless, hopeless. Everywhere I turn there is some area of my life that needs work; that needs planning and execution of a plan. Everywhere I look there is something I want to improve about myself or my surroundings. I know I've read that it's important to focus on my strengths, but that is not easy to do when said strengths are not readily visible. And it's been this way so long, I'm not certain I remember what they were (are?).

Today's sermon was on the parable of the ten talents. I am beginning to hate that story. I don't know what I'm supposed to take from that. And since there is nothing I can point to and say, "here, God, is your return on your investment in me", I am left to conclude that I am the wicked and lazy servant who buried their talent. Just to state the obvious - how the heck does that help me live the life God wants me to live?

This ADD feels like a large vehicle parked on top of me. I can't see, at this moment, how I will ever accomplish anything beyond keeping my family from starving or freezing to death. I always thought I had so much to offer, could accomplish fantastic things. Now, it seems, I have to lower my expectations waaaaaaay down, look around me and say, "this is all I'm capable of." It doesn't feel right. My brain is yelling at me, "There's no reason you can't rock this life." But it seems I can't.

Feelings

I have them! It's amazing!

A little context: Diagnosed a couple years ago with Bipolar Disorder. Had a variety of medications to manage this. Have recently reduced a couple of these medications and am now finding myself feeling all kinds of things - like joy and inspiration, and mischievousness, and adventurousness, and hope! I am a little worried about the possibility of this being a prolonged manic state. And I am ticked that I can't just be happy without worrying that me being happy equals crazy. But I've decided to enjoy feeling things again and hope that the feelings are a good sign for me and the future. I have read that the drugs I was on can be very numbing, so I hope I am simply shedding this mantle of numbness and reconnecting with the emotional side of myself.

Love

"What if my greatest disappointments,
and the aching of this life,
are a revealing of a greater thirst this world can't satisfy?"
Laura Story, Blessings

I want to be loved in that place where I feel unlovable. In that place where people in my life have failed to see past my sin and weakness and ugliness to the beauty God created uniquely within me.

Lord, let Your Love sink down and saturate every depth of my heart, so that I can say with all my intellect, will, and passion that You are what people need; You are the One we need to follow, to seek after with every piece of our broken hearts until we know we are created and loved, redeemable and redeemed.

Sunset

I now know what has been missing from my life - sunsets!! I stand on the deck every evening and look out over our property and the horizon and I think - that is the most beautiful part of the day. And Iève been missing it all these years!

Today the sun is breaking through the day-long cloud cover just in time to nestle behind the trees across the way. The neighbourès barn glows red through the Russian willows and the grass is an enticing springtime green.

Living in the Country

Watched a perfect Manitoba sunset as my children played beneath the branches of a huge old tree and my husband shimmied up said tree with a ladder carefully balanced in the bucket of a mini skid steer (like a miniature loader).

Emotional attachments

I am addicted to Starbucks blueberry scones. This isn't news to me, I am well aware. However, for the past 2 weeks I haven't been eating them, or much of anything else, due to a lot of gall bladder inflammation (read PAIN). But today I had one anyway, even though surgery is only a few days away. Surely I could say no to a scone for a few more days. But I could not say no, which led to the realization that I am emotionally attached to these scones. How does that even happen?

I think I've probably been forming these attachments most of my life. But as I think about it at this moment, when the simple fact is eating this thing could cause great pain, I am really confused as to how we get attached, emotionally, to food. I don't get attached to rocks or household objects. Why do I form these attachments to foods? How do I break them? What need are they meeting that I'm not aware of?