When I was in elementary school I did a science fair project called, "Are Cats Smarter Than Dogs?" I used a series of tests to discover that my (3/4 year old) cat was smarter than my (7mo-1year old) puppy. It wasn't exactly fair, but the experiments proved that my cat was smarter.
In the last few months, our family adopted a sweet little puppy. Well, they told me she was going to be little, but at seven months and over forty pounds I think they lied. Regardless, I love this silly, pup. She's my shadow and needs to be close to me. But at the same time, she can be pretty dumb. When I became a mother, I thought I understood God more. Being a parent gets you to see how God can love something so useless, disobedient, and, well, not brilliant. Being a parent makes you understand that God sets limits for us so that we don't hurt ourselves or others. And as our children grow up, we really begin to find our gratefulness for God's unfailing love for us. But by golly, having a puppy is tenfold of understanding of God. I literally have to train this dog how to walk with me. And yet every morning, if she gets a scent of cat, squirrel, rabbit, whatever, BAM! she pulls off to the side. There goes my shoulder. I need to pull back and get her on track. I am continually asking her to not eat things she finds on the ground. I mean, come on. She has eaten trash, acorns (her favorite) and the pod that comes off of the magnolia tree (almost choked on that one). And yet, every single time I have to tell her, "No." I have to get her to drop it and spit it out. So many days I'm filled with thoughts about God. How many times does he tell us to spit out something bad? How many times does he let us bolt towards something not for us, only for us to have to be drawn back to what is good. Yet, I know that God is far more patient with me and my stupidity than I am with my puppy. Another lesson of how I fail and God is good. Now, each morning, when I get upset with the dog, I think, "Thank you God for dealing with my stupidness." (not a word)
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Healing is a very difficult thing. When it comes to physical healing there are a few things that need to happen. Usually the main item in healing physically is rest. Depending on the injury or illness involved there might be an icing regiment or heat. There may be pain medication, or physical therapy. Each item is different and each person experiencing the injury/illness will handle it differently.
Last December I had a minor surgery on my back. The doctor dug out some "pre-melanoma" and put eight stitches in me to close it on up. I was limited for two weeks to walking only. That just about killed me mentally and emotionally (endorphines weren't flowing as much without running). So this past July when I needed the surgery again, I wasn't too worried. Sure, I wouldn't be allowed to run, but I figured all would be fine. I was wrong. The second surgery was on my foot. It was smaller and I was given only five stitches this time. However, since it's my right foot, I was worried about driving and some other things. Doctor assured me I was allowed to drive. And she let on that the stitches might pop because it's a highly active spot, and if they did it would be okay. The healing process would still move smoothly, if only delayed by a week or two. She was wrong. The stitches didn't pop on day 4 or 5. It was more like hour 4 or 5. The next morning I had to go back to the office for them to remove the two stitches that decided it was too much. The process was still the same. Keep the wound covered. Try to take it easy. And I was told the wound would take an extra week to heal. Two weeks after the surgery I went back to have the remaining stitches taken out. Of the five, only one had done its job. I was told I needed about two more weeks. Well, this blog will be posted at the 15 week mark. I still have scabbing from the wound. My foot still has numbness from the wound down through my big toe. What was supposed to be a small line of a scar will be a round, dime-sized scar. It took over five weeks for me to begin running, and that was more for my mental health than anything else. In other words, the healing process on my foot was not as simple as the one on my back. It didn't follow the doctors plan. Over the past eight or so weeks, I have had the opportunity to think about this idea of healing. So often we think of our mental and emotional healing as going through the prescribed stages. But the truth is that each one of us will heal differently. And each person will heal from each wound differently. It can bother us sometimes when a person doesn't grieve the same way that we do. Sometimes people dismiss us or our hurt because we didn't take as long to move on as they would have. Maybe we think someone should give up their anger already, but really they skipped being angry before and they are just now finding it. There are so many ways for people to heal. And what's good for one may not be good for another. What's good for one wound, may not work with another. Sometimes we need to step back and look at the process. We must accept ourselves in our healing, even if it doesn't match what someone else thinks it should. And on the flip side, we must accept how others heal (unless of course it is causing harm to others or self). The healing process can be ugly at times, but the outcome will be worth it. I know I've talked about it before with people, but I figured I would touch on it again.
There are two types of people in this world. There are those that live for Halloween and those that could not care any less. If you don't know me well, I'll let you know that I'm in the second group. I don't really care about Halloween. For me, the only thing I grew up caring about was getting some sweet candy. I wanted pounds of sugar to course through my veins. I still do. It's my addiction. It's my coping mechanism. But from childhood until now, the only thing I care about is getting candy. I've spoken with many people about the holiday over the years. One thing I have heard over and over again is that they love to dress up. They love to take a night (or multiple nights) and become someone else. I guess I can see the appeal in that. It can be fun to be someone else for a time being. But there are a lot of people like myself. I understand why many people don't like Halloween - destruction of property, mischief night, demons, devils, gory movies, etc. As much as I don't care for those things, I think it is my disinterest in becoming someone else. For me, most of my life is an act. I spent many years hiding my depression and anxiety. I spend my days pretending I'm not in pain. I have had more times of being somebody else than being me. So if I put on a costume of a doctor, am I me dressing up like a doctor or is the pretend me dressing up like a doctor? That question alone leads me such an anxiety ridden paralysis. And I don't think I'm alone in that. I think there are more and more people struggling with that question. There are quite a few of us that are tired of pretending to be someone else. We wear a mask on Tuesday when we go into our meeting. We put on a mask on Friday to go out with our friends. There's a mask on Saturday when we want to lay in bed but the kids want us up and out doing fun things. For a lot of us, Halloween is just exhausting. |
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May 2023
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