Suicide

It’s that word that everyone has very mixed feelings about, none of them good.  It’s the word that strikes a crushing and overwhelming sense of fear in every parent, despair in the heart of loved ones and misunderstanding in the minds of most of us.

Today, while I had my kids out at a movie and was complaining about the cold and the snow, another mom was spending her first day without her son or daughter.  Another father was starting the rest of his life without his child.  A husband learning to live alone or a daughter missing her daddy. A brother or sister was trying to imagine life as an only child, a family was learning to live without their loved one and friends are sorting through old memories wondering how.  How could this happen? How could they get to this point in their life, how could they have felt that the only way out was to take their own life? The answer to that question is we won’t and will never know or understand.

What I do know from my time dealing with depression is that it isn’t just a bad day.  It isn’t just feeling low or feeling sad.  It isn’t something you can make better by reading a positive quote, having someone tell you that it “isn’t that bad” or getting a hug.  Those things all help, but depression is so much more than just a bad day or even a bad couple  of days.  Depression makes you feel like you are that horrible of a person, things are never going to get better and everyone would be better off without you.  And even those who do say they need you or love you, you convince yourself they are just saying that because they have to.

Even at my lowest point, and I was pretty low, I knew that I could not commit suicide.  Not that it didn't cross my mind, but then I thought about my two girls and what would happen to them if I was gone and I knew, I knew I couldn't do that to them.  They saved my life and I have promised myself ever since that I would work to make sure that no one I know and love feels like I did and knows that I need them in my life as much as they needed me in theirs.  

While stumbling across resources for this blog, I came upon these 23 messages which are advice for people considering suicide by people who have been there.  I don't think my words even come close to some of the great advice I found in these quickly read snippets of advice.   

Check them out here: Advice for those with suicidal thoughts

This one really hit me.  “Don’t be ashamed of your suicidal thoughts. They don’t make you a bad person or make you weak. They are just a symptom of a mental disease, just like chest pain is a symptom of heart disease. When we experience symptoms, it’s time to seek help, regardless of the disease. Chest pains don’t make a heart patient weak or bad, and neither do any of your thoughts.” — Jennifer Sladden

This is how it was for me.  This is how I felt.  Ashamed.  All the time ashamed.  Ashamed of what I had done with my life, how I had messed up my life, my kids, my future.  My therapist asked me one day what goals I had in life.  Big or little.  Goals for tomorrow or the next week, month, year or even better, 5 years down the road.  I had none.  Because I literally wasn't thinking of getting there.  I was thinking of getting through today.  That really woke me up.  There is something to be said for taking each day, one day at a time.  But when you're living your life without any thoughts beyond the next 24 hours we have a problem. 

I can't thank my girls, my friends and my therapist enough for getting me through those days.  It's true what they say about depressed people doing a great job of faking it.  At least I thought I was.  But the nights were the hardest, or any time I was alone.  It got to where I wouldn't allow myself to be alone.  I went anywhere and did anything I could not to be alone with my thoughts.  But here I am on the other side.  What do I want everyone to know?

Stop judging.  I know I've said it before, but I can't say it enough.  Stop saying how weak people who commit suicide are.  Most people with depression are the strongest people you would ever meet.  They fight a war inside their own damn heads every single minute of every day and put on a fake smile while they are doing it.  Stop saying they just need to stop sleeping and get out and get some fresh air.  They are literally exhausted.  Physically and mentally exhausted.  It's like telling a person with a broken leg to just walk it off.  They are sick, not lazy.  Stop telling them that it isn't that bad.  It is that bad, to them.  Tell them you understand and are there for them.  Tell them they don't have to face it alone, but never diminish their worth by saying what they aren't feeling isn't a big deal.  And lastly, stop telling them how much worse they could have it.  Because believe me, they know.  But when you tell them that, all you do is add to their guilt and shame.  The guilt and shame they feel for being so weak and not being able to pick themselves up.  

Start thinking about how you can help.  How can you help your loved ones, friends and family, know that you are there for them?  How can you get them the help they need?  How can we help everyone feel better about themselves and what they are going through?  Be understanding and be kind.  

Lonely...

Loneliness is such a horrible feeling.  Nothing hurts my heart more than seeing a child without someone to play with or hearing that one of my students feels excluded.  That feeling of being left out only gets worse with age.

Did you know it is possible to feel incredible loneliness even when you are in a relationship?  I recently read that the feeling of being cut off in a relationship, left out, left behind is the leading reason women divorce their husbands.  Even if you talk every day, if all you ever talk about is who is picking up the kids, what is for dinner and did the bills get paid, that overwhelming crushing loneliness becomes too much for a heart to handle.  But the fear of that loneliness getting even worse by being alone keeps thousands of people, probably hundreds of thousands of people, in shitty relationships all around the world.  I guess a little loneliness is better than admitting you are really and truly alone.

This time of year is a terrible time of year to feel alone.  If you have any kind of social media presence you see happy couples together and families cuddling everywhere you turn.  People don’t do it to be cruel, they are sharing their joy which is what social media is for!  But for those who are alone, it can seem that everyone is loved and has a special someone except you.

Nothing drives that point home more than the out of the blue text messages I received last week.  Both were from a couple of nicer guys I met on a dating website nearly two years ago.  Both of them messaged me after so long to ask how I was and if I was still single.  The “I’m married” response was met with radio silence but that isn’t really what got me thinking.  What got me thinking was how sad those two texts made me.  It makes me incredibly sad to think that there are so many people, like these two men, who are wonderful people but are feeling so lonely they message a random person they talked to two years earlier.  One of them had decided two years ago that we lived too far apart to keep chatting. Apparently his loneliness had gotten to the point where a 2 hour drive seemed doable.  And while I had found someone, here was this person that was still feeling so alone that he was going through old contacts hoping to strike up a conversation with someone he had turned down two years earlier. It makes me sad for them. 

Those texts also reminded me how incredibly blessed I am.  I have Tim, my soulmate and someone I can turn to for anything.  I don’t have to do it alone anymore and I don’t have to worry about that lonely feeling.  Which also made me realize how having felt that alone makes a person that much more careful to make sure that those you love never know that empty feeling.  Maybe that’s why we go through that hurt, so that we know how it feels and do our best to make sure our loved ones never feel that way. I would never want any of my friends or family to feel the way I felt so I will do my best to remind them constantly that I need them, appreciate them and love them. 

So.. with that thought, let's reach out to our friends and family.  Let's tell them how much we love them.  Remind them that they aren't alone. Get them out and about, invite them over, ask them for help.  Never let anyone feel alone that isn't.  And while you're at it, maybe let them know you've been there before and there is another side to that loneliness; a learning side and hope for a better after. 

And you know I can't let this topic go without sharing with you another reminder.  Please never forget that you are never alone.  God is always with you.  Sprinkle of Jesus app - download it.  (It was recommended to me by my oldest daughter, which will be shocking to some of you who know how hard Libby fought against me when it comes to organized religion.) The other day this was shared: "If you saw the size of the blessing coming, you would understand the magnitude of the battle you are fighting."  This has been true during so many times of my life.  Be strong, the blessing is just around the corner.

Christmas Reflections

It never ceases to amaze me how quickly Christmas comes and is gone.  I cannot believe that tomorrow when I get in the car, our favorite Christmas station will be back to just playing random music again.  No more Rocking Around the Christmas Tree, no more Carol of the Bells, just Don't Stop Believing for the next 11 months.  While our Christmas trees and village will stay up until after New Years, it is the time to reflect on the whirlwind of the last couple of days and carry those memories with us for the days, months and years to come.

This was our second year together as a family and I couldn't be more thankful.  As we celebrated with Tim's family and all the chaos that 7 brothers and sisters and 20 grandchildren in one household brings, I kept getting overwhelmed with how much love that family shares.  There was so much joy, so many laughs and so many hugs and happiness in one household.  I feel so blessed that my girls and I get to be a part of it.

Speaking of laughs, there is nothing like a game of Game of Things to get the laughter rolling around the table.  We play a lot of fun games with the Andrings (Ticket to Ride is another popular one), but Game of Things is a favorite.  Even when we make a concentrated effort to keep it clean, it is still a whole lot of fun.  If you haven't tried it yet - give it a go.

The girls got to spend an afternoon and evening with their dad's parents and siblings while we went the other direction to more of Tim's extended family.  The girls came home with so many stories and videos and laughs that I felt like I had been there too.  More little cousins around to bring loads of smiles and more uncles with a strong appreciation for sarcasm and teasing.  I'm so glad that they get to spend time with them too.  They always come home feeling so loved and with big smiles.

There was a beautiful midnight mass in St Charles.  What a gorgeous church, with a beautiful homily surrounded by family.  Of course the music, I can't sing enough beautiful hymns with a church filled with beautiful singers.  Father Tim moved us all to laugh and the true meaning and spirit of Christmas filled us all. 

We enjoyed a slightly quieter Christmas evening at my parents house.  Well, it was quiet, until we got out Sophie's new game.  If you haven't played Quelf, you need to.  When Sophie got it for Christmas from her cousin I had no idea what it was, I had never heard of it.  So we broke it out last night and I have not laughed so hard in a long time.  God bless Sharon and her willingness to play along with us.  Even if it meant she had to tap dance and tell us an embarrassing childhood memory.  HA!  Sharon also gifted us with the most amazing wedding scrapbook.  It is beautiful and holds all my favorite wedding moments.  Thank you to my friends who secretly helped her with pictures that I have never even seen.  I love it!

Of course we had our Christmas morning together as a family with all kinds of wonderful gifts, but the most amazing part was all of us together as a family.  Family, we are so blessed to have each other and our health and be able to spend the holiday together.   I wouldn't have needed to open even one box as long as I could watch my kids and Tim be surprised and happy as they opened their gifts. But they always spoil me.

As we move into the coming year, I hope we can all take the happiness and kindness that we have shown each other over the holidays and continue to spread Christmas cheer all year long.  I hope we don't forget how blessed we are, how many family and friends we have that love us and love each other as fiercely all year long.  Merry Christmas everyone - hope your holidays were happy and bright!

Stressing about the Christmas card

I can't be the only one who puts way too much thought into the annual Christmas card.  It's debilitating.  Hence why there are years that my cards don't arrive before Christmas.  Just be glad you get them at all!

First there is the overwhelming task of choosing which card design to use.  So you have to choose a website and there are so many different ones to choose from.  Which has the best deals?  The best designs?  The best envelopes - maybe one glue tastes better than the others?  So you look through Snapfish, and Shutterfly, Vistaprint, Mpix, you name it and finally you settle.  Years ago I went with Walmart and I've stuck with them because I don't want to have to look through other sites. I'm afraid of getting sucked into that black void of clicking through the options for days on end.  I'm probably missing out - don't be like me.

Now that you've chosen a site, now you have to scroll through literally HUNDREDS of different designs.  And everyone's sample pictures look so much cuter than anything you know you have waiting in your photo library.   So you start to get photo envy and wonder if maybe, just maybe you should have scheduled the Christmas photo shoot with the professional that you saw advertised on your Facebook.  Everyone all cute in their matching denim and plaid with the snowflakes all a flutter.  Sigh.  But pick a design you will, even with your "crappy" pictures.

Now you have a design.  If you're like me, you start sifting through the THOUSANDS of pictures you have from the year.  Do you use candids, or funny shots, serious accomplishments or just kids making faces?  This one makes me look like I have a double chin, that one I look fat, what was I doing with my hair....  It's a real struggle.  And you put the pictures in and then remove them, swap them or rearrange them before finally clicking "add to cart".  This is where my anxiety kicks in overtime.

Because I've waited until the last minute, I have to have the number of cards right.  Too many and I will have 20 extra collage photos of all of us laying around for years because I put too much time into the damn things just to throw them in the garbage.  Too few and, OMG, someone might not get one.  What to do, what to do?  So I put in a number.  Then I change it.  Then I change it again and finally I press send.

While waiting for the cards to arrive, the next step of the annual Christmas card panic attack begins - what to write in the Christmas letter.  The letter has been a tradition for a long time.  And every year I try to write a letter that won't bore people to death, or worse - get tossed before it is even read.  So I try.  I try to be creative.  Over the years I have had letters that I am proud of, but lately, I've been writing the same old same old paragraph after paragraph "blah blah - this person does this, blah blah - this person did that"  year after year.  Boring!  So off I go to be inspired.  And I came up with...

"blah blah - this person did this, blah blah -this person did that"

So I was frustrated.  And I waited for the Christmas card muse to strike me with a dash of inspiration, but that bitch must have fallen down, collapsed or faded away or something.  Because my next "creative attempt" got shot down by the family.  Apparently I was trying too hard and it was "confusing and hard to follow".  Jerks!  I mean, "thanks for the feedback loving family."

So this is what you all get.  Blah Blah - here you go.  If you haven't gotten your official card yet, it's probably in the mail or on the way.  I still have to mail some.  Oops.  Oh and I did attach the flop letter to those cards mailed out too.  Two Christmas letters!  Oh joy!

A Christmas Letter

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse... That's because we are all so dang tired from running around every night, we are exhausted! Merry Christmas friends and family; it's annual Christmas letter time! I know you all cannot wait to hear what we've been up to this year, so without further ado...

It's Libby's senior year, her mother is not handling this whole idea of Libby graduating and leaving all that well. Everyone asks her what she's going to do at college and Melissa tells her to answer "It's a surprise", maybe not just for those inquiring, but for Libby as well. Truthfully she is looking into English with an emphasis on journalism. We are so incredibly proud of her hard work at school all these years, hard work does pay off. She has been accepted into Winona State with an academic scholarship for next fall. Go Warriors! Even with all of her schoolwork, Libby still finds time to work at Graham's Arena riding horses and rides her own as well. She had a few training projects over the summer and is going to be back to showing a POA in 2018. This year she accomplished a goal she had set for herself and won her first belt buckle. She had to steal Melissa's new pony to do it, and barely edged out Melissa in a tough open division, but she got her belt buckle! (Hey, I'm writing this letter, I can make sure to include what I want included.) Congrats, Libby!

Carter is already a sophomore. He continues to make us proud, going out for track and basketball and working his tail off at whatever jobs he can find. He spent his summer and fall helping his uncle and grandpa out at the farm and with the electrical business. He's a pretty handy kid to have around and it's tough to find a harder worker. Carter got his license this fall and has become a huge help that way as well. We are so thankful for Carter.

Sophie is in 8th grade already. When people ask "what are your plans", most days this can be answered with "going to one of Sophie's game". Sophie is active in volleyball, JO and school ball, basketball, track and summer softball. The spring was a real challenge with JO, track and softball all practicing, but we wouldn't trade a minute of it. As much as she hates hearing us say it over and over, we love watching her play. When she isn't practicing or competing she is working on her schoolwork and pushing herself to succeed with her schoolwork too. We are so proud of Sophie!

Taylin is enjoying her first year in high school. After competing in the Gladiolus Days Pageant this summer, Tay is also wowing the crowds in volleyball; JO and school ball. First year in high school brings with it all kinds of firsts and new things, but in typical Taylin style, she just rolls with the punches. She is helping Tim ref some tournaments this winter and talks about possibly going out for track come springtime. She keeps busy with babysitting and with her extended families, that can be a full time job! Way to go, Taylin!

Tim continues to milk, coach, and ref, oh and in his spare time he has that full time teaching career too. Melissa is still teaching at FC and serving at the Village Square in Harmony; serving pizza, fish, pie, ice cream and you name it, 3 out of the 4 seasons. This being the off season she's hoping to catch up on Grey's Anatomy and a few good books before the restaurant opens again in April.

We hope this holiday season finds you all happy and healthy and ready for a fabulous 2018!

~ The Andrings

What is going on?

I honestly have to shake myself out of the deepest funk some days after reading my Facebook and wondering what is this world coming to.  I know what some of you will suggest, just unfriend those people, block them, and believe me I have done that.  Just yesterday I unfriended someone who made their status about there not being Christmas songs played at their child's holiday concert and they remembered the good old days when students that weren't Christian just skipped the concerts so they didn't spoil all the other kids' fun.  That's how my day started.  With a quick unfriend and a sick feeling in my stomach.  If you're wondering why that post would make me sick and cause me to unfriend someone, then you need to stop reading and go back to whatever you were going to do for the next few minutes.

Sadly, there have been other equally frightening posts in the past few weeks by various friends.  While I don't expect all my friends to share my political views, is it too much to ask that we all practice kindness and maybe NOT post things we haven't fact checked? I do expect the people that I call "friends" to have common decency and a love for all human beings.

Like this gem:

Yeah, that showed up in my newsfeed.  Not even true.  Why the hell would the American flag offend other Americans.  What?  What's this you say?  Muslims are Americans?  Oh yes, yes they are.  And they love their country as much as you and I do.  According to Google, there are 3.3 million Muslims living in the United States.  That's a lot of happy, proud American citizens.  Although, with the way they have been slandered, mistreated and vilified, I'm shocked that they still love this country.  Liberals aren't saying that Muslims find the flag offensive.  Radicals are saying that to get you, the ignorant masses, fired up and to fuel hatred towards a minority group.  This is literally the first time that has ever happened in American history.

Oh.


Wait.


There was that time with the Native Americans...
And the German Amercians...
And the Japanese Americans...
And the African Americans...


Yeah, we aren't so good, some of us, at the recognizing and appreciating different cultures, religions and ethnicities - despite being the so called "land of the free and home of the brave".

You think this is the first time people have been judged because of religion?  Did you sleep through world history?  And do you know how history remembers those who judged someone because they had different religious beliefs?  As assholes.  And barbarians.  Cretins.  Imbeciles.  There was a time you Lutherans, Methodists, Baptists, etc... would have been persecuted.  Now you hide behind, "I'm a Christian."  Well then, act like it.  Pretty sure, nope -I'm positive, if you've read your bible, Jesus would be disappointed in you.

Oh and another good one showing up on my newsfeed - people who seem to think that it is so unbelievable that all these women were really sexually harassed by celebrities and are just now coming out.  People posting statuses about how these women must be attention seeking, making it up, just trying to get someone in trouble.  What attention would they be seeking?  Is that your derogatory comments they are looking for maybe?  Oh I know, it's where society judges them and thinks they must have been sluts who went looking for it.  Or maybe, maybe they didn't come forward because they were sure everyone would just think they were attention seeking and trying to get someone in trouble for the thrill of that.  Not ones to disappoint, there we are America - doing just that.

Lastly, I'm going to leave with one more thought.  If I hear one more person say "I remember the good old days when we all got along and there wasn't all this talk about racism and gays and stuff."  If by good old days you mean the days when the white male was superior and could say and get away with virtually anything they wanted, then yeah - I remember those days too.  If you mean when you were a hetero Christian male who conformed to society's rules and could get away with mistreating anyone who didn't fit that profile then yeah, I remember those days. 

Quite frankly, I'm still waiting for the "good old days".  The days when people can be who they want to be and feel in their heart.  When we love our neighbors and are kind to them not because they are just like us, but because of the differences that make us all so beautiful and unique.  I'm waiting for the day when instead of bashing other religions and cultures we say, "teach me".  Teach me about your religion so I can make correlations to mine and have an honest discussion with you about how your beliefs were formed.  I'm waiting for the days that Christians live like Christians and remember that Jesus loved us all, not just those who believed in him but even those that didn't. 

Until then, I'm going to unfollow, unfriend and read/share more good news stories.  Let's focus on the good in our world starting today.   A friend shared this good news website -check it out:  Great Big Story

Horse memories

Today, December 13th, is National Day of the Horse.  Every year I grab 9 random pictures of some of my horse memories from my adult life and put them into a little collage to share.  There is nothing like searching through old pictures to bring back memories of horses and horse showing in the past.  I have so many memories that I've shared over the years with the girls.  Every time we get started I feel bad for those around us that have to hear the same old stories over and over again.  So if you've heard them all, feel free to skip on by.  For those of you that are a glutton for punishment, here are some of my horse memories.  If nothing else I will have them all in one place from here on out.

I'm not even going to try to get years right, but Libby's first show pony was Lieba.  We called her Leave it to Lieba for a show name.  She was a great starter pony in that she wanted to do as little work as possible and was SAFE.  At the end of the season we finally took pity on poor Libby who could not make her trot to save her soul.  At Lieba's last show we all celebrated when they actually trotted one entire lap around the arena.  It was like winning Olympic gold.

She went from Lieba the walk/walk pony to Shadow.  Shadow was a mutt pony, most likely welsh cross and kind of the opposite of Lieba.  She was safe, but she also liked to go.  I remember one show where we tried her in a snaffle.  Libby was warming up with her and Shadow decided to take off to join some other horses on the other end of the arena at the fastest little trot.  Libby was pulling back frantically until my friend and her trainer coached her through pulling little Shadow around in a one rein stop.  No more snaffle for Shadow.  I believe it was that same show that naughty little Shadow went into the halter class, reared and pulled away from Libby and then went on to win the class.  She was a shit, but she was a cute little shit.

I have loads of Giggles stories.  I vividly remember the time we were trail riding and Sophie couldn't get her head up and get her to stop eating so I told her to whack Giggles on the butt.  Giggles gave a half hearted buck and loped up to us.  Scared the heck out of Sophie, but we all laughed.  There was our first regional show and Libby waited for her very last class to bring home that first place neck ribbon.  She banged and clanged her stall so many times, but it was Windom with the metal walls where she woke up the fairgrounds when she wasn't the first one fed.  Or the time someone suggested we put a snaffle in Giggles to jump a course.  Giggles loved to jump and poor Libby was barely more than a passenger as they flew around that course at record breaking speeds.  And then that county fair.  The one where Libby could finally compete on her own pony.  She and Giggles won every single class, even dominating the games except that pole weaving class.  Libby wanted me to go contest it as she was sure she had beaten the second place kid who only trotted the pattern, but I wouldn't.  Thus wrecking her perfect 100.  She got over it.  Giggles also carried Sophie the show she decided that the light up pink cowboy hat with the crown on it and edged in fur was a reasonable show hat to wear for lead line.  Oh and a personal favorite, the time Giggles chose the inspection part of a showmanship pattern to decide to take a poop, at Champ Show nonetheless.  Somehow Libby and Giggles still pulled off a first place finish in that pattern.

Water crossings on trail rides bring back memories.  Like the time Quincy launched himself into the river, almost landing in my lap astride Giggles and landing Libby in front of the saddle on his neck.  Somehow she managed to hoist herself back into the saddle and never even got wet.  Ace was a special kind of stupid on his first water crossing, throwing himself down on the bank and causing both Libby and I to be soaked and Libby to end up with a swollen foot.  Others on the other hand were total gems, like Coupe who just walked in like he'd done it a thousand times.  Or Oscar, the steadiest trail horse in the world, who did all he could to drag Ace into the water and then stood ground tied for several minutes in the river, while I took over for him.

There were a lot of emotional wins over the years;  Libby's second place with Rye at Congress in western horsemanship.  Libby's first place in English equitation at state fair and then a week later, a repeat performance at Champ Show also with Rye.  But probably the most emotional was Central Classic 2013.  Early in the day my nephew was flown via Mayo One for a complication related to his cancer treatment.  In hysterics I left the girls with friends and drove to check in with family.  I arrived back in time for Sophie's western horsemanship pattern on Cotton.  As she was going in she announced that she was going to ride that pattern for Alex.  They had a nearly perfect pattern and won that class.  My heart overflowed that day.

Simon brought memories too like the hysterical time Libby and I rode him together in tandem bareback.  I'm pretty sure she ended up in my lap by the time the class was over.  I'm still bummed his injury prevented us from ever getting to do that class at Champ Show.  There was also that flawless English pattern, just beautiful, except I botched a diagonal.  Flying lead changes are so much fun to ride.

I can still picture Buddy bucking off Libby and Sophie in the front yard because they thought they could kneel on him bareback.  Or the time he wouldn't trot in a showmanship pattern so Sophie unashamedly just reached back and whacked him to get him going - even the judge got a giggle out of that one.  I will never forget Libby thinking she could get in front of two racing weanlings, throw her hands up and they would run around her.  Her chipped tooth won't let her forget that life lesson.  Weanlings don't alter course.  I remember little Thunder stealing gloves, hammers and the key out of the four wheeler when we would try to fix fence, but my favorite memories of Thunder were our cart rides around the countryside and the time we drove him to town.

I have loads of memories of China; first rides, first shows, first wins.  Our very special MEC weekend will always be one of the highlight weekends of my horse show memories.  But one of my favorite memories of China is the day we went to get her.  I still wasn't sure we should even be picking up this yearling, I just couldn't afford her with the breakup and chaos that ensued.  And the roads were terrible and this guy, this new guy, was going to be riding along for the nearly 3 hour round trip.  On top of all that, I had asked how big she was and the breeder told me she was a big filly at 14.1 -14.2.  As almost everyone always exaggerates how big their horses I expected her to be a normal size yearling.  Then that trailer door opened and this big old filly stepped out and I was like "whoa".  She was exactly as he described.  And when she unloaded in a Perkins parking lot and then loaded again into our trailer for her first time unloading and loading again, I could see she was as quiet and calm as he had said she was too.  The start of something amazing.

Births of foals are all permanently etched in my memories.  I remember little Vegas coming out one foot at a time and scaring us, only to come out completely unassisted when no one was looking for a second.  I can still hear Libby's excited voice when she called to tell me that she had discovered Bibble out in the pasture with Gretchen, or walking over the hill and finding Fancy with Chic.  I think it was a call or a text from my dad when Luna was born and I remember asking, "Does she have spots?"  and his reply not being much help to a color breeder, "yep, one little one on her forehead."  Baby Cher, Baby Cash and Baby Chevy all arrived in the middle of the night without much excitement, but I'll never forget tiny Baby Triton and how unbelievably little he seemed to all of us at only a foot tall.

Not every memory is a happy one.  There was the English equitation pattern on Chic where she was a complete idiot, even popping up at the cone and basically acting like a 2 year old who was barely broke.  I left the arena in tears and called my friend.  She cheered me up by joking that English was dumb because "who even did fox hunt anymore".  Her sense of sarcasm made me giggle and we had a much better day in western. 

There was that memorable rearing over backwards moment, the smashing into the trailer, the bucking off on the trail ride oh and the epic dismount followed by collarbone surgery.  Those memories I literally have the scars to remind me. 

I'll never forget how hard it was to hug Levi goodbye and know that he wasn't going to be coming back from the next set of drugs in his system.  There was the traumatic putting down of Little Star, the sweetest little shetland on the planet.  There was the day we sent Rye, Giggles, Chic and so many others off to their new homes and new adventures.  That terrible day that Buddy cracked his jaw and scared us all so much and the day we took him home to retire forever. 

Through it all, the new arrivals and the goodbyes, the births and the impossible farewells, the championships, trophies and first places and the crushing and devastating defeats, I wouldn't trade one moment of this crazy horse life.  I wouldn't trade the friends I've made, the lessons I've learned or the dollars I've spent.  In my heart and in my soul there are horses.  And only you other horse crazy folks will be able to relate. 

When you reread old journals...

Going through things to start the moving process and trying to downsize has led to stumbling across things that I packed away a year ago.   One of the things I discovered where old journals.  You're probably not surprised to know that I journal personally and I also keep this blog.  Those old journals sure have a variety of everything, but they are unfiltered and a chronicle of not only the events in my life, but how each event shaped who I have become today.

I journal about everything.  I paste in little notes from my kids, students and real life, memories, little pictures that I find, tickets, you name it.  There are articles that I've printed out, or pages from books that I really loved that I make a copy of and glue in.  It's like a living, breathing reminder of little snippets of moments in time.  When I read these journals they come alive and my past doesn't seem such a distant memory, I can see it through my very own younger and dumber eyes.

Reading through some of these I could start to feel pretty down about myself.  One journal picks up when I started therapy.  It's truly incredible to read through.  Depression, anxiety, guilt, fear, all laid out page after page.  I was working really hard at happiness.  Like REALLY hard.  Every entry details the things I was reading, what I was researching, what I was asking myself, how I struggled to try to find the light every day and be a better mother, teacher, friend, and family member.   There is advice from my therapist, books I was reading, websites, even Dr. Phil made his way between those pages.  It makes me sad to see how long I struggled against myself, how hard I worked to just face what head, heart and mind were trying to tell me.  Not to quote the same Meridith Grey quote again, but that entire journal (and year of my life) revolved around this quote.

So I could get down on myself and be angry with myself over wasted time and how dumb I was.  Why did I work so hard to convince myself that I could be happy with so much less than a person deserves?  I can't answer that, but I can reflect on the good that has come of that time and learn from it, grow from it and try to share it with others.

I often share how I wish I had met Tim sooner so we could have had more of our firsts together, but he always reminds me (to the point where I say it before he says it now) that we wouldn't be the people we are today if it weren't for the life lessons we had along the way.  He is so right, (ssshh don't tell him I said that), especially after reading these journals.

One thing I do know is that I will never judge anyone again who is struggling with depression or anxiety.  Rereading those blogs brought home again just what a constant struggle it was to face each day and even worse, the nights.  Never take for granted the ability to fall asleep and stay asleep.  As much as I joke about how now I wish I could stay awake past 8:30, truthfully I'm so glad that falling asleep is no longer a problem for me.

I also have learned more about the different ways to manage your emotions and be kind to others than I ever thought possible.  Some of it I had forgotten, so it was good to reread.  I've donated most of the books from that time of my life, some to Goodwill and some to our faculty book swap on health, but those books and websites and apps taught me more than I could have ever imagine and I'm thankful that I recorded the highlights in my journal.  And the therapy, the notes from the therapy, the questions he made me work on at home, they are all priceless.  The best piece of advice though came at the very end of that journal which coincidentally I stopped when I broke up with my ex.  It was advice from my therapist that I took and turned into advice for myself.

"Happiness isn't supposed to be this much work.  You're surrounding yourself with mental illness every single day and literally drowning in it.  You need to stop.  Stop trying to figure out why and just live each day.  Figure out what is preventing you from being happy and let that go.  Let it all go, wash your soul and start over if you have to."

And that's exactly what I did.

My latest obsession

See, the problem is I don’t just watch these damn shows, I get absorbed into them.  And I purposely never started Grey’s Anatomy because I knew, I KNEW, I would get hooked on it.  And then Sophie started watching it.  One day she’s watching it and I’m watching over her shoulder, and then I’m sitting down and then... the rest as they say, is history.  I was hooked.

I did what any sane person would do.  I set up my own profile so I could start the show over.  I quickly have caught and then passed Sophie.  (It’s not totally my fault- I can watch while on the treadmill and to fall asleep each night.)  She’s got homework and basketball and did I mention she’s annoyed that I’m now past her?

As I started season 9 I realized I was more than halfway through and it has made me a little sad.  I don’t know what I’ll do when I have to leave Meredith and find something else to watch.  Yes- I know that most of my other favorite characters are no longer on the show.  But you’ll have to just bear with my season 9 and earlier reflections.

The other day Sophie commented that I was basically Meredith Grey in teacher form.  I’m not sure that’s entirely a good thing.  There are some things about Meredith that completely annoy the crap out of me.  But there are other things about her that I can relate to.
She’s madly in love with her husband, Derek- so I can relate to that.  (Yes- I know, I accidentally stumbled onto a spoiler alert looking for something else.  But she IS right now in season 9.)  I love how affectionate they are and how they tease each other.  I mean, obviously I never tease Tim because I'm sweet and kind and innocent.  But he can be a regular little sh*t sometimes. Yes, Tim - you can.   So I do see some similarities between Meredith and I when it comes to her relationship with her husband.

She has a best friend, or as she says “her person”.  I can relate to that too.  I have a best friend who is my person.  She has been my person since we were both 8 years old.  Oh we competed against each other (like Cristina and Meredith), we have gotten mad at each other, but at the end of the day, she’s my person.  She knows everything about me, she knows all my thoughts and sometimes even thinks them before I do.  I’m blessed to have Tim and have him as my best friend, but no one knows my dark side and my deepest secrets and has been there when I’ve fallen apart in the worst way possible like my best friend.  She's my person.  She's the one I can totally be myself with, even the ugly stuff that I'm not proud of.  Not only will she support me, but she will probably even tell me that she feels the same way because, as we joke, we do share a brain.

Meredith loves her kids and being a mother fiercely.  The episodes of her as a mother, right down the frantic panic attack’s are something I remember and relate to.  I kind of can’t wait to see the episodes (if the show is still on) when her kids are teenagers. I have a feeling her version of parenting through sarcasm and mine will be eerily similar.

Her emotions are clearly read on her face and she is an emotional person.  Right down to the disbelief and disgust I try to hide sometimes.  Here’s hoping I do a better job of listening to authority figures than good old Meredith.  She seems to struggle with protecting herself from getting her butt into hot water.
 

There are a lot of crazy amazing Meredith Grey quotes to live by.  I love that.  I love how a show can inspire people and a fictional character can become so real that you can't help but be inspired by how they face life.  I wish I had crazy inspirational quotes like Meredith. "Brush your teeth or they will turn black and fall out and good luck finding a spouse without any teeth" probably isn't one for the memes and memory books. 

All told, I'm in love with the show.  Despite Sophie's claims about me being like Meredith (thank you Sophie!), Buzzfeed had me more like Callie Torres.  After reading their description, I'm totally okay with that too.   She is more of my favorite character than Meredith anyway!

Bad call!

My husband is a ref, ah excuse me, "sports official".  Except when people are angry no one says "the sports official cost us the game" or "the sports official is as blind as a bat".  So I'm going to stick with calling him a ref for this blog because you can make yourself sound as official (pun intended) as you want, but everyone is still going to call them refs.

Being a ref's wife means that I have a lot of whistles in my house.  Libby laughs at my jewelry rack in our bedroom.  It is slowly being taken over by whistles.  But if I don't hang them somewhere where I know they are and I can find them, then the next time he asks me where he put his whistle, I won't be able to remember which of the thousand places he stored it. Yes, I am using the term "stored" lightly, more like left, dropped, forgot.  So I find them and hang them on my necklace hooks.  Right next to the necklace I wore at my wedding and my precious lockets, there hangs about a half dozen black, yellow, and maroon whistles.  It's better than the desk, closet floor, closet door knob, nightstand, bathroom, car, etc...

Speaking of whistles, did you know that there are good whistles and bad whistles?  You don't want a pea whistle, the kind with the little rolling ball.  Yeah, those are bad I guess.  Works great for keeping fifth graders in line at lunch duty, but not so good for the refs apparently.  You want a Fox 40 whistle because it is much higher pitched and more freaking annoying.  Ask Pixie the chihuahua, she agrees with me.  Oh and apparently there is a right way and a wrong way to blow a whistle.  It's a skill that good refs possess.  I do have to say, that after observing kids ref and then watching official officials ref, I do appreciate when I can actually hear the whistle, so I'm sure the players do too.

Being in a relationship with a ref also means that sometimes it just makes sense for you to tag along while they get a game in on the way to somewhere else.  I've visited a few gyms in the area as a spectator for two teams I have no clue about just for the promise of a "date night" dinner out on the town.  This also means that sometimes a girl just wants to fit in and look like they are part of the crowd.  You know what that means....

I remember one game in the local gym where Taylin and I were enjoying our soft serve ice cream treat and watching a tim and a friend of mine ref.  There was a questionable moment in the game and the crowd went nuts.  Tay and I quickly realized that we were the only ones in the crowd not screaming at the refs.  Not wanting to stick out as the ref's family, we HAD to join in.  "Awww, c'mon ref!  Can't you see that?  What kind of call is that?!"  Our behavior may have earned us a couple of funny looks from the refs.  We also had to proclaim that the refs lost the game for us.  Not really sure who "us" was, but we wanted to make sure the refs knew it was their fault.  He always threatens to kick me out.  I'd like to see him try.  Maybe I should give him the age old line, "you and what army?"

Being a ref's wife also means I don't get to see as much of my husband as I would always like.  But he's doing something that he loves and I do love to watch hum ref.  Something I had never really paid attention to before, the refs.  I can't tell you the number of games I have been to and I guarantee you I never paid any attention to the refs.  Now I do, but mostly because I'm checking him out.  It's kind of a complicated dance that they do.  I never really noticed and I sure do have a new appreciation for what they can and can't see. It's a lot easier for us to notice things in the stands than it is with 10 players blocking your view.  Doesn't mean I still don't complain about the refs.  Especially when Tim refs Sophie's games.

So here we are, kicking off the basketball season.  He's done reffing volleyball and calling lifts, out and double hits.  Done with football and unnecessary roughness, touchbacks and first downs.  Now it is the mad dash every other night and most weekends around the tri-county area calling fouls, lane violations and pretending not to hear the hecklers (aka his own family) in the stands.  Not that I'm complaining.  What better way to spend a cold winter than than telling your loving husband that he needs to get his eyes check because he's so blind he clearly missed that call.

Not your kids....

Today I was flipping through one of my favorite Facebook groups and I came across my inspiration for the blog today.  It’s something I’ve heard for years and probably have said myself but it is probably one of the most wrong things I have ever read in my life.  It’s like nails on a chalkboard to me and I feel, probably a lot of my fellow parents as well.  

The post was a vent from a horse lover and owner who was frustrated with her family and friends.  She was sick of people thinking she had money because she had horses and this led her to venting about her frustration with people telling her to just sell her horses because then she would have more money.  Her response grated across my admittedly raw nerves when she said, “I tell them to sell one of their kids then, because my horses are like my kids.”  Scccrrreeeeccchhhh.  Hair on the back of my neck rises and I know I have to back away from my keyboard before I type something I will regret.  

Your animals are not your children.  Yes you love them, probably an overwhelming heartbreaking amount even.  But they are not your kids.  Oh yes, I love to tell Pixie (the dog) that I’m her momma.  Especially since it drives Tim nuts.  But she’s not my child and my horses aren’t either.  They are my pets, my physical and emotional therapy, my lifesavers and my joy, but they are not my children.

Every single time I hear someone say that I think to myself, “you don’t have kids, do you.”  And if you don’t, I understand that you don’t get it.  I understand that you have no frame of reference and I try not to judge you for your completely inaccurate and insensitive comment.  You see, you don’t get it.  

You don’t get that your children literally become your world.  Your entire world from the moment that baby is placed in your arms, heck - from the moment you first hear the heartbeat or feel that flutter in your belly, that tiny human being is your entire world.  Their every thought, emotion, worry, desire, need, becomes yours.  Even your kids don’t get it.  They don’t get that every waking moment has your children in the back of your mind.  I can’t think of a single thing I do all day long where I do not have my own kids in the back of my mind.  

I get out of bed and think to myself about how many minutes before I need to make sure the kids are up.  I get in the shower and think to myself about how my kids take long showers and maybe Sophie didn’t put her towel away or maybe I wonder if she needs more shampoo.  And then I get out of the shower and think do I have time to do this or that before I share the bathroom.  Then I go to my room to get dressed, but I’m consciously listening to see if either of the girls is up yet and thinking about what I want to make sure to talk to them about before I leave for work.  Then they get up and it’s what are they eating for breakfast, what are they wearing, do they know the roads might be bad, what are the after school plans.  

Finally I leave the house and then I hear a song on the radio that makes me think of them or I think about something I forgot to tell them or what is the plan for the rest of the week?  Then I drive by a house I think they would love, or see a cat they might get a kick out of, or hear a joke I want to remember to tell them or….  I arrive at school and school makes me remember that I haven’t seen their grades lately, or the building is decorated for Christmas and I think they would love to see this.  Then my students say something and it reminds me of a story about something they said or did.  Maybe I even share with my students.  Then it is lunch and I wonder if they are eating lunch, are they wasting their lunch account money, they better not be getting ala carte again.  The afternoon has band and PE and music which reminds me of more memories of the girls and their exploits at school. As the work day winds down I think about what our afternoon plans are.  Will I be meeting Libby at the barn or will I be heading to one of Sophie’s games?  When does Sophie have practice, where do I pick her up, who is picking her up, when will we have dinner, what will I make for dinner?  

On the drive home I’m noticing all those things that make me think about the girls again and then it is off to a game or the barn or home to make dinner.  Then there is homework time, game night, watching TV, you name it.  Before bed it is making sure they brushed their teeth, aren’t staying up too late, have forms filled out, what’s the plan for tomorrow.  And even in the middle of the night, if I wake up it may be the first thing I wonder is how are the kids sleeping? 

Does it sound like I’m obsessed with my kids?  It should, because I am.  And I don’t think I’m alone.  I would venture to guess that there isn’t a parent out there that doesn’t make a decision for themselves without first thinking how it will affect the family.  Because that is being a parent.  

Yes, I think about my dog a lot.  Yes, I think about my horses a lot.  I have lost horses and it was devastating.  Ask anyone how I have coped with losing Levi.  I still haven’t made a memorial out of his tail hair because I’m afraid of ruining it.  I still talk about how fun he was to ride.  Ask anyone about Tuff and how hard it was to lose him all those years ago.  He was my first “child” before I had any idea what having a child really meant.  But it is nothing compared to the crushing grief someone feels when they lose a child.  I cannot even imagine and I never want to.  I honestly don’t know where those people get the strength to get out of bed in the morning.  

It is hard enough for me to contemplate Libby going away to college.  Oh I tease her that she’s getting luggage for her 18th birthday and I’m turning her room into a library.  But that couldn’t be farther from the truth.  I literally get choked up and the tears start to brim when I think about her leaving home for more than a couple of days at a time.  My ex’s used to get pissed at how close my kids and I are and tell me that I’m too easy on my kids and my kids are too much like my friends.  Huh, funny thing is my kids aren’t assholes so I must be doing something right?  And yes, she is my friend but in my very special mother-daughter friendship kind of way. I’ve sold horses and missed them and enjoyed seeing them again with their new families.  But none of those emotions even comes relatively close to the overwhelming sense of fear and sadness, tinged with excitement for her, that comes to mind when I think about Libby leaving for college.

It physically hurts me to have to reprimand my kids.  Like I literally tear myself up about it later.  I have cried more tears over having to yell at or give consequences to my kids than I ever have about anything in my whole life.  When they are angry with me and tell me they hate me or that I’m a horrible mom, it literally strikes fear and sadness into my heart.  (It doesn’t stop me from taking away the phone and making them do their laundry, but it does suck.) I do it because I know it is what they need and is all part of being a good parent, but dang - does it suck.  A lot.  On the flip side, I get after my dogs or my horses and I don’t lose a wink of sleep over it and I don’t recall every shedding a tear because Pixie peed on the carpet and I told her she was a bad dog.  No matter how much she hung her head, slunk along the ground or tucked her tail between her legs.  

Before I had kids I saw movies, read books or heard people say things like “jump in front of a moving train” or “take a bullet” for someone and thought to myself how brave those people are because I could never be that person.  Then I had kids and realized that I am exactly that person.  When your kids are hurt, in danger or even being picked on, this weird and a little overwhelming superhero comes out in all of us.  They say “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”.  Bullshit - hell hasn’t ever seen a momma protecting her babies then.  That’s epic right there.  Again, I love my animals - but if it came down to a bullet or my horse, well - horses can be replaced and my kids need their momma.  I come first.  

I’m not a heartless pet owner.  I love my horses and my dog and my chickens, as much as anyone can love a pet.  But I love my kids tons more.  Bunches.  Heaps. Loads.  I can’t think of a word to even describe the depth of a mother’s love.  There is a TV show quote that just barely skims the surface of what that feeling is like.  

l mean, she's my child.

lt's like the blood running through your veins.

You don't outgrow it.

Never goes away.

The love.

The need to protect them from everything.

From everything.

Even from themselves.

They grow up.

They move out.

They change.

Become people you don't even recognize.

Make decisions and they think you don't love them because you don't understand.

But it's the opposite.

See, it's the opposite.

You fight for them.

Always.

You never surrender.

So no, your pets are not your kids.  They are members of your family, beloved members of your family, but not your kids. Not even close.