Gripped by Fear

Recently, I identified that I'm living in fear. I didn't really think this was an emotion I struggled with much. Now I realize that fear was never really a part of my life simply because my life was fairly sheltered. Coming to the realization that I need to trust more in God should have prepared me for the moment that gripped my heart with fear I had never felt before.

Every day last year, I met Nikelle at the bus stop. The main reason being that the buses will not drop off a first grader without an adult there to meet them. The other reason was that it just never crossed my mind to do otherwise at her age. One day this year, for some reason (maybe the bus was early or I was late getting out there), when I went to open the garage door to go meet Nikelle, the door was already opening. I looked up with surpsie to see Nikelle letting herself in the house with the garage code. Most days, now, I watch for Nikelle from the window and make sure she gets from the bus to our home safely.

The other day I was watching and realized the bus was running late. My first action when this occurs is to contact my girlfriend whose daughter is the stop before Nikelle's. I picked up the phone and dialed her number. "Hey, Mary. Is Val home yet?" I fully anticipated a conversation while we waited for the girls to arrive home. My heart stopped as she responded, "Yes... and she's been home for quite some time." I closed my eyes and shook my head, "Are you kidding me?" I just thought I should clarify that I wasn't on the other end of some teasing. "I wouldn't kid about something like that, Tristi."

Fear seized my heart. I didn't know what to do. I threw up a prayer for God to get my daughter home safely. I called my husband only to let him know Nikelle was late getting home from school and I was concerned. Then it was time for me to contact the school. Was I distracted and didn't see the bus come? What if I missed her being dropped off and someone grabbed her? Where in the world was my little girl?

While I was on the phone with the school, Mary called me back with information she had gained for her daughter. "Val said that the bus driver was missing a lot of stops today. She was having to back track and drop kids off." That removed a bit of the fear but as the minutes kept ticking away...

I went inside and put the girls in the van. I'm not really certain as to where I planned on driving, but in that moment of putting the little ones in the van and pulling out onto the driveway, the bus dropped my daughter off at the corner. I pulled out of the garage and saw her walking down the street. I left the van on the driveway and ran down to her. Needless to say, my fear and relief poured out from my eyes as I told her I was so happy she was home.

I asked Nikelle a bit later if she was worried. "Well, at least I had Paige (her other friend). We were like, 'We don't want to stay on this bus forever. All we have is a cheese stick and some pears'. Why did she have to go take that kid home first?"

Ah, that's my girl... mind goes straight to the food.

I'm so glad I don't rely on bus drivers alone to get my daugther to and from school safely. Thankfully, ultimately, I rely on our God.

Triggered

I am very aware today that putting my kids to bed (either for naptime or bedtime) is a trigger for me to eat. It was my assumption all morning that I would have to shovel the driveway during their naps but when I looked out the window I noticed that God took care of that for me with the wonderful sunshine melting it away. That left me with a decision as to what I would do during the kids' naps.

I could get on the treadmill. My mind made enough excuses to eliminate that possibility quickly. What if Jaycie coughs so bad she throws up again? My foot and leg really hurt. It would require quite a bit of stretching prior to running. If I need to stretch, I need to clean up toys in the basement so that I can do it comfortably... I'll pass.

I could lay down and take a nap. I can't lay down upstairs because I hear every noise the kids make (and boy is that baby a chatter box). Laying down on the sofa is a trigger to eat. Better not do that.

I remember that laundry is in the washer and dryer. Step one: Take care of that. While doing the laundry I notice the potty chairs I brought in from the garage. Step two: Bleach those so I can have them out for Andelise. (My mom decided to let Andelise use the potty chair while she had the kids overnight the other weekend and now the girls are pestering me to get her potty trained. I certainly do not have plans of making it a priority but if the girls want to take Ande into the bathroom with them when they go and give her the opportunity to use the potty chair... more power to them.) Bleaching the potty chairs reminded me that we have friends coming over tonight. Step three: Bleach the bathroom. Now I'm faced with putting the laundry away... but I want a break.

Why is it that every time I get a moment to myself, I want to eat? Food and relaxation must go hand in hand in my brain. In order to break a bad habit, I need to replace it with something else. That's why I'm blogging right now. Hopefully, if I put my mind into something else, I can change the path I'm taking.

I'm feeling much better about this choice. Maybe I'll remember the way I feel about my choice right now when I'm faced with the moment again in the future.

Someone please inform my children...

Today has not gone at all as planned. No wonder I find myself wanting to calm my emotions by eating. I know I cannot continue to use excuses and eat junk. That will only take me further down a path I do not want to be on.

I was hoping to get up early to exercise but that ended when the first child woke before sun rise. Ande was up from 2-3 in the morning. Jaycie was up asking for water at 4 and Nike needs to be up to get ready for school no later than 6:30.

I thought I would simply change my plans and exercise during nap time but when I saw the driveway, I knew that shoveling would be my exercise for the day. So, when I thought the kids were down for naps, I went out to clear the driveway (that snow was heavy!).

Upon finishing the driveway, I came in to Jaycie greeting me with tears in her eyes and hearing the baby screaming in her crib. Jaycie has developed a cough again which caused her to throw up in her bed. I have no idea if Ande ever napped or if she just screamed the entire time I was out shoveling. My guess is that she just screamed because she is cutting another tooth (not to mention a bit strong willed).

I held Ande for a bit and put her back in her crib hoping she would nap. I got Jaycie's sheets in the washer and came upstairs only to find the dog had thrown up on the floor! (Thankfully it was the kitchen floor which is so much easier to clean up than the carpet.) Par for the course, Ande did not go back to sleep so I went to see if I could rock her to sleep because the day would only continue to turn into a nightmare if the child goes without a nap. That was very unsuccessful so I gave in and came downstairs. Jaycie was asking for candy and wanted to play on the computer. Due to her incessant whining, she lost both of those privileges earlier in the day for the entire day! (I'm beginning to think punishing the child is more punishment on myself.)

I was hoping to get a shower in after I shoveled the driveway but someone forgot to inform my children of my plans.

The house seems to be a bit more calm at the moment. (I hope it is not the eye of the storm.) I think I will inform my children of tomorrow's plans tonight at bedtime. Too bad information does not always lead to cooperation.

Stuff it

To this day, anger stirs inside of me when I think about my dad's death. I shake my head and do my best not to think about it every time. After two years, one would think I could at least come to grips with the fact that he is gone. For some reason, anger and fear still overwhelm me.

A girlfriend of mine recently brought to my attention a family she knows whose teenage daughter died of cancer. As I shared the information with my husband, we stared at the pictures of our own beautiful little girls that hang prominently on our family room wall (ages 7, 4 and 1). "Could you even imagine...?" I asked him, "...raising our girls..." I paused, "only to lose them once they reach high school?" I've known a few other families who have faced this very tragedy. Just not to cancer. The cancer factor is what surfaced my emotions.

"I'm so afraid," I cried to my friend on the phone the other day, "so afraid that I'm going to lose someone else that I love." So I eat. Rather than face my fear and my anger that cancer has stirred within me, I eat. I eat to calm my mind. I eat more to fill the pain in my heart. I eat until I can't feel anymore. I eat until I can block out the emotions that attempt to surface. I don't know what to do with these emotions. I have no control over cancer or the health of my loved ones. So for two years now, I have been stuffing my emotions every moment I stuff my mouth.

To identify this connection may help me finally overcome this terrible addiction I have to food. If I can simply identify that I am not hungry but rather angry, afraid, or confused... can this allow me the choice to cope in a different fashion? I can choose to write. I can call a friend. I can run and clear my mind. I can cry. I can take my worries and give them to God. All the while recognizing that I have no control over some of these emotions that seize my heart but I do have control over the way I respond. I can choose to change. Not only my nasty habits but my attitude that goes along with them.

I can choose joy. And I find that in my relationship with God alone.

Arguing with Myself

I find myself arguing with myself a lot these days. One of these arguments occurs every time I think of my dad's death. It's just not right that a man who took care of his body the way my dad did should be dead at such a young age.

I recall a conversation with my cousin that repeated itself with other family members as well. She said something to the effect of, "It's just such a surprise. If this was going to happen to anyone in our family, your dad would just be the last person we'd ever have expected. He was so healthy."

My dad ate vegetables daily. He grew his own garden, found the harvest of mulberries from the wild tree in their front yard to be a feast, and turned down most any sugary treat he would encounter. He played basketball for a hobby, did construction for a living and exercised up until the very last days of his life. My dad's picture could have gone in the dictionary next to "good health".

According to the rule of thumb, my dad should have lived a long life. My paternal grandpa died about a year before my dad. I remember my dad referring to this during his own battle with cancer. "I was certain I would at least live to be his age," my dad shared, "seeing as how I took care of myself, I thought I'd live another 10 years at least beyond that." It was just a fore drawn conclusion that someone who paid attention to the food they ate should live longer than someone who did not.

This leads me to the obstacle in overcoming my food addiction. A number of years earlier when I had been convinced to lose weight, one of my reasonings was a longer life. My mind will no longer accept this line of thinking. The argument I have with myself is case and point: my dad. Where did refusing all those yummy foods get him?

Reality is that living a healthy lifestyle, including wise food choices will, more often than not, extend your life. I have to quit using my dad's death as an argument within my own head to excuse myself from healthy eating.