Can I have some?

welcome to my blog.

a place to post. a place to eat oreos. a place to vent. a place to heal.

i started this blog so i could use a different outlet besides munching on fattening oreos. as if that has done any good... *mind wanders to oreo package in the house...*

then i realized that oreos can be semi symbolic. if you are are that crazy about oreos that is. which... i am.

eating oreos is therapeutic for me. when i am struggling or when i need a pick me up. they have chocolate. and sugar. both of which help lift my mood. not to mention that i eat them soaked with milk, which is my miracle drink.

i post my posts to not only get stuff out. there may be people who read my blog who have been in the same kind of situations as i have. i hope reading them and knowing that others have gone through things like i have, will be to you what eating oreos does to me.

and yes. i didn't capitalize anything in here. i just felt like it. deal with it.

munch up.

Friday, January 28, 2011

The scoop

Most of my readers know that I had been sexually abused as a child. If you don't, well, you can look back in the archives and find me talking about it if you want. I can't remember what post it is though, so sorry about that.

Having something so traumatic like that happen is damaging in many different ways. Many times it gets to the point where the survivor can't trust anyone, even themselves. I was certainly like that (once again, look back in the archives if you want to read about it), I couldn't trust my husband, I couldn't trust my parents, I couldn't trust God, I couldn't trust myself... no one. Anyone could be just wanting to hurt me. I think I still very likely have a huge issue with trust, particularly of strangers, but I think it has slacked off a bit.

It has been said that the healing time for people who have been abused is a 15 year-life sentence.

A few weeks ago I knelt down and prayed. I had done so many times in my life before, begging to be healed. I almost hated the phrase, "ask and ye shall receive." How many freaking times do I have to ask to be healed?! I longed to hear the phrase, "be thou healed." But it never seemed to fit God's schedule I suppose. I don't know.

There have been times in my life where I thought I had been healed only to find that there was still something hidden, still something that pained me to the point where I knew for a fact that I really wasn't. Which is mainly the reason why I didn't want to share and blab about this experience. Who knows... maybe I still have part of the onion to uncover. Very likely. Abuse is always more than the original act, it is abuse heaped upon abuse, over and over. It makes sense that to heal, you have to peal those layers away.

This morning though (not this morning, as in today... but the day referenced above... weeks ago), I knelt down, sobbing. I laid my hands out as if presenting my pain and sorrow as an offering and pleaded. "Please," I sobbed, "take this away! I can't live like this anymore!" I hated pushing my husband away because I was uncomfortable. I hated hurting him like that. I couldn't live with that sort of pain anymore. Pro Boxer is infinitely better for me than I deserve. So patient. He never complained about my issues. He always put himself second in this regard. I won't ever be able to repay him. And I hated hurting him (or at least imagining that I was hurting him).

*wipes away tears...

It probably wasn't sudden. But soon after I begged and pleaded harder than I ever remember doing so before, I almost felt empty inside. Not the hollow/numb kind of empty. More like the pain and sorrow that I had been harboring inside of me was instantly gone and instead peace replaced it. The tears didn't stop, but the reason for those bitter tears was gone. I looked up, my heart feeling like it was a hot air balloon. The feeling was amazing. I doubt I could ever describe it with enough justice. Slowly, I stood up, and though I had been kneeling for sometime, my legs didn't feel prickly. Instead, I almost felt light headed, as if I was about to faint. Yet, it wasn't a physical lightheadedness. This may or may not make any sense, but it was more as if my spirit was lightheaded. There was nothing wrong with me physically, but instead, I felt free. Free doesn't begin to describe it. I literally felt as if I was going to collapse, but not because my body needed to, but because my spirit needed to. I started to wonder if this is how "normal" people feel all the time, with no burden of abuse to weigh them down. It was like I was no longer walking, but rather floating.

Since then, I have not had any problem with being physically intimate with my husband. My anger doesn't flare up as easily nor as quickly. I talk quieter instead of louder when my kids are being trying. And even now, as I recollect and think back on it, I feel the same way as I did then. I feel better about myself and my looks. I can look in the mirror and think, "hmm... maybe people are right and I really am quite good looking," more often than I did before. Even times when I am having a "hat day," I can do that. Instead of purposefully prettying myself up.

There are probably more sections of the onion that I need to peel off. But I highly doubt that they will be as painful nor as liberating as this was. I still have bad habits, my body still becomes numb when it thinks it is dealing with too much pain. But for once in my life, I feel like maybe I am important enough for people to care about. Though I still have some self esteem issues, it is easier for me to see the good in me (as the list above indicates).

For any of my readers who have been abused... there is hope. Peace can be in store for you, if you turn to the only one who can fully heal you. Our Lord, our God.

Monday, January 24, 2011


I have a post in mind. I'm still not sure how I want to explain/organize the thoughts swirling in my head. That is one of the hardest things I have sometimes with writing, is getting started. Once I start, things just flow out.

I will keep thinking about it. I will post it when my thoughts stop swirling so confusingly. Honest. This is something that I want to tell people about, but I haven't really known how. And I also have been hesitant to share it with people because... well I have been doubting myself and believing that it actually happened.

And that is all I shall say for now.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Dr. Lion

My music professor who conducts the elite band's name is Dr. Lion (well... not really. But it fits.) He is short. He can intimidate anyone. And does. When he gives complements, you know they are sincere because he wouldn't say something he doesn't mean. Have I captured his essence enough for you?

In the band room, during practice, we read music and rehearsed, and fixed things... and all that good stuff. Me and another trumpet playing girl (I guess we can call her Jeweler) play the trumpet parts. (side note... sometimes music doesn't only have trumpet parts, but cornet parts. Usually when that happens, there are only two trumpet parts and the rest of the section plays the cornet parts. Personally, I can't tell the difference between trumpets and cornets, the sound at least, and well, everyone plays on trumpets anyway. In any case, I play second trumpet when there are trumpet parts, and Jeweler plays first trumpet.) During one song where Jeweler and I were sight reading the music (because we didn't have the parts the last time we went through the music) there was one part about 3-4 measures long or so where both Jeweler and I played perfectly, and it was a section where we both kinda stood out in the music. Dr. Lion turned to us (he had been cuing us the whole time - hence paying attention to our playing), stuck his thumb up and said, "Great job, ladies!"

I was so shocked and astonished, I became flustered and almost missed my next entrance (which of course I needed to get my mute for). There have been a few times when Dr. Lion would compliment my playing, and I know that he thinks I am really quite good. But this was, if not the first, one of the first times when he did so so publicly, and in a way that brought attention to our/my playing. Even when I was driving home, and remembering the semi-crappy day that I had, thinking about that just lifted my spirits and made me smile.

After class, I had to ask Dr. Lion about a different song, but I brought both of them up with me, and before I was able to ask my question he said, "Isn't that a great piece?" (he must have seen I brought both of them with me) Then he grabbed my music, turned to the other piece that we played well in that one part, he found it and asked something like, "Had you been able to practice this yet?" I replied, "No." And he went on pointing out other parts and saying, "And this part!" You could tell that he loves the piece... but yeah. Not only was I complimented during the playing of it, but afterwards as well.

I am not taking over 18 credits. I decided after thinking it through that it would be unwise of me to still try to get into that class that I was on the waiting list for (it is possible that I may not have even been able to anyway) so I just took myself off the list and settled for what I do have. Which is good... I suppose. Life is crazy enough without that extra class to read and write for.

So... with that said, eventually I'll get this house in good enough order to take pictures and post them. Until then, just be patient and some day (maybe) I'll get around to it.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011


School is almost in full swing. Usually by Wednesday you have been to all your classes, but that is not true for me as I have a night class on Thursday (I also have one on Tuesday but obviously I had been to that one already) that meets once a week. I'm still on one waiting list, and I am wondering if I should just not worry if I can't get in the class. If I do get into it, I will be over 18 credits, and I'm not sure I can handle the load. Probably wiser to just drop it, despite the fact that I really need to get into it. I just don't know what to do. If I can't get into it, then that is that I guess and I won't have to make the decision. Sadly, I am kinda banking on that outcome. When it comes down to it, I'm not sure if it would be smart or stupid to join the class.

I guess I'll just have to wait around (as the name 'wait list' implies...) and see what happens.

Monday, January 10, 2011


Today is the beginning of school again. I'm a little nervous about the load that I have laid on myself. I just hope and pray that I can survive.

But today I am more worried about Pro Boxer. He had to call in sick and has been sick for some time. Usually he doesn't get sick all that easily, but he has been sick for quite some time. I don't even know how long he has been sick. Nothing he does seems to clear it up. It seems to be just a cold, but it refuses to go away. With him home sick while I go to school today, I really worry about him. I wish I could be there to help him with getting better, even if that means sitting on the bed and holding his hand or something.

I still have one class that I am in the waiting list for. I am number 5. I just hope that I will be able to get into it. Though, with the way that my schedule is packed, I wonder if I should be wishing for that. I do still wish for it, because I really need to start taking these classes (they are kind of a series) yet I worry about my work load. I know I cannot get through this semester without the Lord, which is why I also am in an institute class even though my schedule is so packed. With His help, I can do anything, and I hope that I can remember to turn to Him more and more through the semester. I know that it was with His help that I got such good grades last semester.

*deep breath....

I know I can do this. Some how though, it doesn't stop me from worrying about it.

Please pray for Pro Boxer to get better. I hate it when he is sick, especially when I can't do anything to help him but pray.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Glorious tantrums....?

Okay... lately Goof Ball has taken to tantrums. I sometimes wonder if he is getting a jump start on the "terrible twos."

The things I have noticed:
  1. He doesn't communicate about what he wants or what is wrong. To be honest, he doesn't communicate... ever.
  2. The morning is usually tantrum free. He only ever acts like this after his nap after lunch. And usually after he has had enough time to wake up.
  3. Seemingly nothing caused the fit. Sometimes, I take something away that he shouldn't be playing with. Most times it seems like nothing caused it.
To be honest... I am just getting plain tired of it. Sure, Bug had his fair share of tantrums. But I don't ever remember them being like this. Goof Ball rolls around on the floor, hitting and rubbing his teary, and usually snotty face. He kicks the floor, my leg, Bug's leg, furniture, whatever is near. He screams like he is dying.

Yes, he just had one. And possibly is still having one. I had to get away for a bit and vent on here. I sometimes tried to find out what the problem was. I thought that maybe since it is time for dinner, or at least close to our usually delayed dinner, that he might be hungry. I would wait for him to show interest in me picking him up (basically causing him to stand and walk to me and/or pulling on my pants to standing) and then I would ask, "Do you want to eat? Do you need food? Do you want a banana?" All to no avail. I know he can say, "Yeah," when he wants something. All he would do to my questions is hit his face and rub his snotty nose and teary eyes, screaming. In other words having a fit again, and I won't stand for him having a fit in my arms when he won't let me try to comfort him. So I put him down, and the cycle starts anew.


So... I got that all out. Now, to go check on him again and see if I can find out what horrible thing that I did to cause him to have such a screaming fit. (I know it isn't anything that I did on purpose... or maybe isn't even anything I did... but it sure seems like he thinks I did something horrible or something... ^_^)

Oh... on a more positive note... family and friends know that I have had a hard time getting to Goof Ball to walk. Well, whenever I set him down (minus when I set him down while he is having a fit) he insists on being set down on his feet. Sometimes I forget and try to force him to his bum, but he keeps his knees strait, and steps back depending on how I am setting him down. And I remember and keep him on his feet. Good sign. ^_^

Monday, January 3, 2011

Oh! I remembered!

Remember this post?

Okay... here's the deal. I remembered what I wanted to talk about. And I know it is late. And I know I have already posted two posts tonight already. But I want to get this down before I forget again.

Here goes.

December 14th is the 3rd anniversary of Little Angel's death. If you REALLY wanted to, you can go back in the archives and read about how things were for me back then. I may just do that myself, as this is pretty much the only journal I have kept in probably all those years.

I think that a part of me tries to forget the exact date of when we woke up to find his body cold. But another part is constantly reminding me. I love the winter. I truly do. The snow is excessively beautiful. Yet, despite the gloriously wonderful Christmas holiday, and being able to spend time with family, I always find myself somewhat sad around this time. Which is understandable I suppose.

The summer after Little Angel died, I had a pretty hard time. I can only really account for it by saying that even with the Lord's help, I still had to grieve, and maybe it was around that time when my friends and family slowed their prayers on my behalf. Or maybe it was just that it was the time of family reunions, and the newest member of my family had been lost. You can (again) go back in the archives and find out how I was doing... I am pretty sure I posted something about what I will briefly describe here.

I had a sister who was pregnant the same time I was pregnant with Little Angel. Hence her son and mine would be the same age had Little Angel not... well died. I think I try to forget that (meaning how close in age the two would be) as well. But so soon after his death, and we all got together that summer... I remember a time when she got her son to laugh while we were all there in my dad's camper. I don't particularly remember how I felt at that time, but I am pretty sure that my eyes saddened. Wishing that I could have heard Little Angel's laugh. My ever sensitive sister picked up on my mood and hence stopped getting him to laugh. I think I left soon after so that she wouldn't feel pressured to not have others enjoy her son.

This Christmas they came to visit. I don't think they ever came very often for Christmas before, but they lived farther away then. Sad as it may seem, I think I had put her son from my mind. Didn't even really remember him. Sure I only really see him every year or so, but at the time, I think I had just forgotten about him. Or forcibly pushed him from my mind. Whatever the case, I had never remembered that he was the same age as my Little Angel would be. Not until this Christmas. When we were spending time with him, and he was walking, running, playing, and talking with my sons.

Though I wish it weren't true, the pain will always be there. I cannot say how much I can't wait for the second coming of Christ and have the millennium begin for then (I believe... though I don't think many of us on Earth know much about that time) I can see, hold, and hug Little Angel again. I don't think I have spent much time grieving for him on here... It may be because I didn't want anyone to see my weakness. I don't know if that is the reason, or I just pushed the pain away like I do with any other pain I have. Old habits are hard to break. Whatever the case, I wanted to share that with you all. I wish I would have remembered and been able to post it a bit closer to the date.

At least I haven't forgotten.

Wise Sayings

I put more sayings on the side bar. Don't forget to look at them. My kids sure are pretty darn cute, if I do say so myself.

Lungs? among other things...

Well lately things have been going okay. Early December, kinda near the second week or so, we all, in turn, got a cold. Goof Ball got it first, and consequently got over it first. I can't remember the order after that. I just remember that the peak of my cold came during finals. Which really sucked. Also that Pro Boxer and I had the cold at the same time.

During the cold era, neither of the kids were acting sick. Just that they sounded hoarse, and coughed and needed tissues a lot. I had gotten so bad that even with cold pills, it was still really hard for me to focus or concentrate on pretty much anything. Pro Boxer said he was like that too, though I wouldn't know as he doesn't complain about ANYTHING. As I remember, he did have a pretty spaced out look about him though.

In any case, I didn't come on here to report our physical situation weeks ago. Oh no. Be surprised if you wish. :) Mainly I came on to post something... cause I'm bored?


I still have a pretty nasty cough. I always have a cough, but not like this. My nose is still pretty runny. Bug's is too. Well... his cough is worse than his runny nose. In any case, we two are the only ones still showing signs of having a cold. Goof Ball sometimes has a bit of runniness to his nose as well, but he doesn't sound hoarse, and he certainly doesn't have a cough anymore. I don't know why it hit Bug more than it did anyone else, but I am pretty certain why I still have a cough. And why my lungs are aching. (see... I got there... I put it in the title, I'm gonna talk about it.) I think that since my lungs are still quite weak from all my bouts of pneumonia, sicknesses just hit me harder, last longer, and possibly cause more damage than they otherwise would.

I'd like to say that I have a rather healthy body. And in probably many respects that may be true. From all my milk that I love so much, I have only had one broken bone (which is one more than Pro Boxer) and I have healthy pregnancies, and I have always (before the pneumonia plague) been able to recover quite well from things. Sure when I was really young, I used to get ear infections all the time... despite all the things my doctor tried (believe me... there were a great many... my worst favorite was the milk diet. only 3 servings of milk a day), my mom and I found the cure... warmth. As long as I kept my ears warm, I never got an ear infection. I am starting to learn now though, that I am not as strong as I had originally thought.

Sure... if I keep a hat over my ears or ear warmers in the winter time, and play the trumpet all the time to keep my lungs strong, then I am great. But ever since I stopped playing it 4-5 years ago, I have come to the knowledge that I really am not as strong as I had first thought. Yet still, I am better off than other people in the world. I can walk. I can do the necessary things. (hey! I just spelled 'necessary' right the first time through! woo!!) I may struggle at times to get the breath that I need, and always be coughing... but I could be worse. I could be on oxygen or something. I get my air free, thank you very much.

And this... among a great many things, I thank the Lord on high for. For without Him, we are nothing.