Weighty Issues

I've wrote some about my disaster house and "dysfunctional" family, but I haven't yet touched upon my personal health.

I'm still in my twenties and I feel like I should still feel as invincible as I did in my teens. My father said once that he thinks having babies ages you ten years. Maybe not ten years? But having four kids has definitely put some miles on my body. Being overweight has too.

Since my youngest was born about five months ago, I've been having a lot of pain. Just calling it pain, is like calling the Empire State Building a large building. Because the reality is some days I don't get out of bed or I spend most of my time balled up on the couch. My daughter has climbed in my lap before and I've cried because it hurts so bad and I have to ask her to move. My sons have tickled me and my ribs feel like someone is hitting them with a hammer. My shoulders feel like someone is constantly pushing on them.

Now, I've had pain with pregnancy, depression and stress. In my experience, those are all valid, real and very different types of pain. But the pain I'm feeling now is different too. It's more of a burning pain. It's not in my muscles and I can't stretch to get rid of it. If I push myself too hard, I don't feel better, I end up paying for it the next day. There are certain spots on my body that hurt with the slightest touch.

I'm tired all the time too. Absolutely exhausted. I can sleep a regular night and wake up exhausted. I can sleep for 12+ hours and still be exhausted. I've always had a low energy level and very low stamina, but it's gotten worse. Being tired all time means that I'm not as good of a mother or housewife as I'd like to be. All of my many "problems" are interconnected.

For many reasons, I haven't gone to the doctor. I don't really want to be labeled with a diagnosis and I honestly thought for several months that it was related to pregnancy and would go away. I told myself that I'd wait till my baby was six months old to see a doctor. That time is closing in on me and I don't feel better, I think I feel worse. My mother was recently diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. I didn't think much about it till we started comparing notes and she told me that it was genetic.

Wikipedia says that Fibromyalgia is "a disorder classified by the presence of chronic widespread pain and a heightened and painful response to gentle touch. Other core features of the disorder include debilitating fatigue, sleep disturbance, and joint stiffness. In addition, persons affected by the disorder frequently experience a range of other symptoms that involve multiple body systems, including difficulty with swallowing, functional bowel and bladder abnormalities, difficulty breathing, diffuse sensations of numbness and tingling, abnormal motor activity, and cognitive dysfunction. An increased prevalence of affective and anxiety-related symptoms is also well known."

I have several of the "in addition" symptoms. And many of these symptoms can be related to other things but what's important for me, is that it's not normal to be in pain constantly. It's not normal to have to tell my husband and children they can't hug me so tight or to sleep most of the day when I should be able to play with my kids.

In combination with all the fatigue and pain, I'm overweight, no wait...I'm MORBIDLY OBESE. My BMI is currently 41.2. That alone is enough to make you tired and feeling pain. Now, I don't exactly like the BMI thing. I don't think it's accurate because it doesn't take body muscle into consideration. After my daughter was born, I went to one of those weight loss clinics and they weighed me on a scale that weighed your muscle mass. It said my bones and muscle alone weighed 154lbs. Which is interesting because for a healthy woman my age, my body fat should be between 21-32%, on TOP of muscle and bone weight. That's not an excuse to be 240lbs though. I mean I'm only 5'4". I weighed about 170 before I had my first child and I felt comfortable. I got down to that weight after my second child was born and I felt comfortable in a size 12/14.

I'd love to be a size 4. But I'm never going to be a size 4. God did not create me to be so tiny. I don't spend my days crying over it but I would at least like to be healthy to take care of the children I've been blessed with. I'd at least like to lose some weight to see if it helps with the pain *before I get slapped with a lifelong diagnosis.*

I have big "diet" plans and we're currently working towards those goals. My husband is not on board but I am praying that he will see a difference in me and will be more supportive.

And least you think I'm neglecting my health, I'm planning on going to the doctor in July and I called yesterday to get my PCP changed. I was just really hoping I'd feel better all on my own...

Happy 8th Birthday

I was 18 when this child was born. I myself defiant and determined to prove the world wrong. What I know now is that you really are completely unprepared at 18 to have a baby. What I know now is that you lose friends, miss out on opportunities, and even if it goes well, you wish you had waited. For several years I defended "teen" mothers, but now I feel sorry for them. I'm sure there's several of my friends who also had babies young who would disagree. But I honestly think one of the problems I have most with my son is that I was not prepared for him.

I was prepared for a 100% normal child. And instead I got a child with special needs and then three of his siblings. Don't get me wrong, three out of four of my children were planned (not well planned just planned) and I love them all. But I think if I had waited until my oldest was three? I wouldn't have had my second child so soon. Because most of his issues didn't start to show till after 17 months and I was already pregnant at that point.

He may not be 100% normal. I may not be the best YOUNG MOTHER but I do love him. Some days I wish loving him were enough. I wish loving him could make up for my lack of patience and my personal temper. I wish I could be one of those moms who only has one child, seems full of patience, is organized, offers a structured environment and can afford all of the treatments he needs. But I'm really trying not to focus on the mom I'm not. Instead, I'd like to focus on the mom I am and work from there.

I am a mom who loves her son. I am a mom who wants her child to become all he can be. I am a mom who is trying instead of giving up. I am struggling to give him the environment he needs. I am trying to get him more treatments. I am trying to find patience and give the rest to God. And maybe, I am growing up as he grows?

We had his birthday party on Saturday at the park. Outside is always best for him, he really is all boy, plenty of room to roam and run. We had hamburgers, hot dogs, chips, s'mores, and cake at his request. We colored transformer coloring pages and played with sidewalk chalk. We sang happy birthday and thanked God that he gave us the opportunity to love such an extraordinary boy. And then, it rained. The wind picked up and brought us a fast, sporatic, and drenching rain. It was so spontanious that the bugs were scared into running under the shelter house where my children decided a mass murder was nessasary...

All birthdays should be this good.

The Aftermath of a Bad Day

It's almost 1pm and I've done nothing with the day so far. The hospital called me at 8:50am wanting to know how they could help. They want me to take him to the therapist they suggested a few weeks ago and get him on the antidepressant. I don't know why but every fiber of my being says "NO" to the antidepressant. I told the doctor who prescribed it about ONE incidence and she slapped another diagnosis on him and a med.

I just don't think that from one incident you can claim someone has clinical depression. Maybe I'm wrong and making a poor decision for my son. But I have never liked this doctor's attitude. All she really does is handle his medicine and every two months we sit and talk about how it's working and then she sends me home with a prescription.

He needs a second opinion because I need someone to listen better. I need someone who cares instead of sitting there with a bored look on her face. I need someone who sees us as a family in crisis instead of "just another kid with Autism and ADHD." I hesitate to take her referral too because I doubt her judgment and motivation at this point.

Today, I'm tired. Mentally I'm exhausted. My body hurts. My shoulders feel like someone is pushed down on me (I like to think it's the weight of my world...). I am supposed to be working on getting this birthday party together for tomorrow. A party I don't want to have, for a kid who doesn't seem to care about anything and doesn't behave well enough to make it seem worthwhile.

Today is a different day. Mr. Autism is not as agitated. But he is intent on driving his siblings crazy. I have not yelled but I seriously feel like I'm losing or have already lost the battle for control with him.

How do you control your other children when they can clearly see that you have one who is "wild" in every sense of the word?

Why can't one thing work for all kids? And where did the user manual for this model of boy go?

*UPDATE*

The hospital just called again. They want me to put him on the Celexa. She thinks his behavior is related to his anxiety. We'll see I guess.

I thought I hit post before nap time but I didn't...

Lack of Discipline

I am not doing very well today. I feel like I'm kind of falling apart at the seams. See, I've been working extremely hard on my house and been very dedicated to treating my family better. And it's about the second week and it just seems like I have no control over anything.

My kids? Let's be honest here okay? They're beautiful, smart, and really have the ability to be great kids to want to be around. But they also can be manipulative, bratty, whiny, lazy and completely energy sucking. Some of it's "normal" kid stuff, some of it's because I haven't established a good parent/child relationship with respect and some of it's because my oldest son has Autism and ADHD.

My son, has given my new found (created, forced) patience a run for the money, today. Recently, I have resolved to be very careful with the words and tone I use with him. It's hard for me to control my anger, I grew up in a household where yelling and berating was commonplace. I'm not saying I think it's okay to belittle your child and yell constantly, just that I grew up with that. It's a hard cycle to break. With God's help, I know I can.

The thing is, I don't know how to earn my son's respect. I don't know that I ever had it, but I'm even more lost about how to create it. Obviously, he deserves my respect and I've really been trying to give it to him. But He tried my patience today. He pushed, pushed and pushed all my buttons today.

It kind of went like this...My 6 year old boy and 2 year old girl spent Wednesday night with my mom and my oldest and I had some much needed time together. Once my baby was sleeping, we made brownies and had some good heart to heart talking. I explained to him that I wanted to try a Gluten and Casein free diet and see if that helped him and I feel better, act better and live better. He really seemed to understand and be open to the idea of eating new foods, which is a huge step for him. We passed out in my bed together and got up early this morning. We worked on the house a bit, went and picked up free apples and potatoes, and then went to Walmart. He normally has a hard time in stores. He can't stand still, he twirls, he stands too close to people, he asks for everything, he runs in the store, he does not stay with me and he does not listen to me at all.

So it was awesome that he did well. I thought "Wow, we're really making progress on the house and with these discipline issues with this kiddo." And I felt good about what God has been doing in our lives. We went to lunch with my mom and all of my kids. It was going pretty well till my oldest started moving the table around. We kept asking "Who is doing that!??" And he'd say "I don't know, it was not me." In this voice that made us question if it really was him or not. Finally we figured out it was him moving the table. But his defiance was really annoying. After lunch I took all the kids to the thrift store where the older boys (almost 8 and 6) started pushing, taunting, running, back talking and touching everything in sight. Looking back? I probably should have just backed them all up and left right then. I probably should have made them all take naps. Instead? I drug them through the thrift store and then we went to the hobby store. After they had "promised" to behave in the hobby store, we stopped there to look for a few things. We wandered around for a bit and they started acting the same way in the hobby store as they did at the thrift store. I told them they'd lost their computer and TV time. Then I told my oldest he'd lost his toys. Every threat I said, he'd reply with "I don't care" or "Whatever."

Once while I was looking at something, he helped my 2 year old get out of the cart. Then the three of them were running in the fabric. I didn't scream, but I wanted to. I finally got my daughter back into the cart and we kept walking. My oldest started talking my 6 year old into misbehaving worse. "Hey if you don't do what mom says I'll let you play with my transformer..."

And the next thing I knew the 6 year old was acting as bad as the 8 year old. I mean really cruel things like knocking things out of the cart, running up and down the aisles and in general running amuck. Finally, I told my oldest that I was going to cancel his birthday on Saturday.

Maybe it was because I don't really want to have a birthday party for him. Maybe it was because I was hot and overwhelmed with misbehaving children. Maybe it was because nothing I was saying seemed to get through to him.

I'm not yelling
I'm not cussing
I'm not belittling or berating
I'm not spanking

And yet? Nothing seems to work. I've read probably twenty parenting books and a ton of books on Autism and ADHD and I still don't know how to discipline this child. Nothing seems to work. He does not seem to understand right and wrong. He doesn't care that he disappoints me and honestly, I think he gets a rise out of making me want to pull my hair out.

The differences in today from other days when he's been hard to deal with is that today he tried to get my other kids to work against me. And he ran around the house frantically when I tried to explain to him how upset I was. He ended up saying "I'm leaving!" And walked to the front door where he curled up into the fetal position (he says he thought I was going to hit him) and I sat down and wrapped my arms around him. I am trying to love him. I am trying to understand where he's coming from. I don't want our home to be full of angry and defiance. I'd like it to function peacefully. I'd like for us to be able to put more energy into serving the Lord and less energy into trying not to kill each other.

I held him for almost forty minutes, during which he kicked me and pushed at me. I talked to him and explained over and over what he did wrong. I tried to ask him why he acts the way he does and he couldn't answer me. He does things without any remorse or reason. He acts like he thinks he can get away with whatever he wants and there should be no consequence. While we sat there at the door he was unresponsive, he refused to speak. I ended up telling him to go sit on the couch while I cooked dinner.

I called a center here who deals with Autism and neurological disorders. I called the hospital that handles his case and left a message for his doctor. And I called a place that offers programs to prevent child abuse.

I want him. I want to know how you make a child care when he doesn't want to. I want to know how you can parent a child who doesn't understand consequences and I want to know why his doctors have no answers for me.

We prayed before the kids went to sleep and I know tomorrow will be different.

Maybe he's acting up because school is out, I'm changing things in our house and I'm trying not to yell. Maybe all these changes are making his behavior worse? I don't know but I'd sure like someone to have an answer for us because I'm all taped out.

Wordless Wednesday-Progress

What here looks like...

I've made a lot of comments here about my life that looks a lot like chaos. About my house that's out of control, my disobedient children, the disconnect with my husband and my halfhearted attempt at relationship with God. But do you get it?

I'm going to start with the details of my house.

My house is a disaster. It's trashed. It's cluttered and messy. It's unorganized. It's slowly getting better. I am not making excuses, I've explained how I came to this place. But I am constantly overwhelmed with the task of picking up the pieces of my life. Of dealing with the emotions related to living in such a condition. I realized this evening that I've not had company over since my daughter was born. I remember quite clearly, my in-laws visiting after the home birth. The house was a bit messy then and I was so embarrassed. Since then I have actually turned people who have knocked on my door away.

Some of the work being done here is painful. Some of the boxes I've been forced to deal with lately are full of my past. Of memories that cut me like a knife to the bone. I am trying to focus on the bigger picture. I know that a clean, orderly and decorated house will bring joy to my heart. Not because of the "things" in it but because it will no longer just be a house, it will someday be a "home." Yes, I've been married 8 years and I've never created a home. We lived in an apartment once and I hung pictures on the wall. That's about as close as I've ever come to having a home.

I want a home. I want a place that feels good to come home to. That shows my personality and inspires me. I want to wake up and smile instead of wishing I could lay in bed all day.

I'm a long ways from my goal but everyday, every load of laundry, box I go through, trash I take out and decorating decision I make? Is a little closer to my goal.

I was going to post my before pictures but I've decided that it will be better to post my befores with my afters. (Yes, the picture above is from my real dining room table)

"How Did You Get Here?" Round Two...

I think it's important to note that I've spent a fair amount of time thinking about how I got here. Because I know that I don't ever want to be here again. I don't want to repeat my mistakes. This horrible "patch" in my life has been over two and half years long now. Given my age? That's a huge chunk of my life, in my opinion. What's worse? It's a huge chunk in the lives of my children. It's my daughter's whole life. I don't want her to remember life like this. This unorganized, unhappy, angry all the time chaos that effects every aspect of our lives.

So I found out I was pregnant when my daughter was 17 months old. My first three children were planned and I here I was with an unexpected pregnancy. I had wanted a fourth baby but not right at that moment, see I already knew I did not have control of my house and my kids. I already knew I was not the parent, wife and house keeper I wanted and needed to be.

I was scared to death to be pregnant. Financially, having another baby was disastrous and the idea of trying to take care of four children was completely overwhelming. My family was very upset with us for being uncareful about preventing pregnancy, but in general they were more supportive than my husband. He actually wanted me to have an abortion and was furious that I wouldn't even consider it. I didn't want to be pregnant or to have another baby but I was not about to kill a child that God had created for us. I ended up quitting my job at the hotel because I was so tired I was falling asleep at work and when my children needed me. I quickly started becoming depressed from the stress of being pregnant and my husband's opinion of the pregnancy.

After looking at my options, I found a new midwife and by the time I saw her, I was definitely depressed. I told her during the first appointment about how I did not plan this baby and that I was scared. I did not want to take medicine and I did not want to be depressed. She prescribed Lexapro and told me it was safe for my baby. I was disparate for something to help me but at the same time, my baby's health was the most important thing to me. After some internet searching and talking to some people who had taken Lexapro during pregnancy, I found out that there were studies that said if the pregnant mother took Lexapro after 20 weeks there was an increased risk of heart problems in the baby. It's the kind of drug that you must weigh out the benefits and risks to take. It's dangerous to a baby for it's mother to be severely depressed.

I took Lexapro till my 18th week of pregnancy. I felt better and I felt like I'd gotten over the "hump" of unhappiness. I knew it could be temporary and I knew it wouldn't be easy to try and deal with my emotions without medicine, but I could not take the medicine without worrying about my baby. Things were okay. They were as good as could be expected given the situation. My life had not gotten better during that time but it had not gotten worse.

My pregnancy progressed pretty normally and our little boy was born January 2009 in the hospital. His birth was uneventful and quick. I lay there in shock that it happened so fast. That I had gone from "unwanted pregnancy" to "mother of four" in less than two hours. He was and is a beautiful baby and I fell in love with him immediately (unlike the feelings I had with my daughter). He's five months old now and I do not have Postpartum depression. Actually, I have something else entirely.

Angry. I've been angry with myself since my son was born. Angry that my house is in the condition it's in. Angry that my children do not behave as nicely as I would like. Angry that my husband and I enjoy each other's company but do not know what each other's likes and dislikes. Angry that I'd shut God out of my life for so long.

Maybe that was this baby's purpose? Maybe experiencing the miracle of his birth, knowing that I had not been the one to decide we needed an extra family member, that God had felt we needed a fourth child? I don't know honestly, but I do know that I felt angry with myself that I had not only denied my children a relationship with God, but I had turned my back on the Lord when I needed him most.

We went to church on Easter. At this point, I'd been reading my little studen Bible for several weeks. And I really felt like God was telling me I needed to find a church where my husband (the non-believer), my children and I would be welcomed and feel comfortable. The church we attended on Easter sunday was not the church for us. It seemed through several signs that God had pointed us to a 2nd nondenominational church which we attended for several weeks after wards.

The church family there is awesome and my husband even likes the Pastor. Everything is perfect about that church except for one thing, they speak in tongues. Now, the Bible talks about speaking tongues and I believe fully in the Holy Spirit and spirtual gifts. However, I went to a Baptist church as a teenager and I have had no experience with tongues. Their practice of this gift makes me feel uncomfortable and confused. I have prayed for many weeks to find an answer to my questions about it and I really feel like God may be telling me that I should look at other churchs. I still don't know honestly, but this coming Sunday we're going to visit a Baptist church and see how that works for us.

And that is basically the story of how we got here...
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"How Did You Get Here?"

Well, where is here? Here is where I am and honestly, it's a sad state to be in. Mentally, emotionally, spiritually, physically, and financially. It has taken me over two years to get into this state of complete despair. In this place where nothing seems to work properly and everyday is a struggle.

It started with Postpartum depression. I gave birth to my daughter in December 2006. It was a long pregnancy that ended in a uneventful home birth. I worked my whole pregnancy at a credit card company, handling collections calls. I loved my job, my baby was planned, and in general things in my life were pretty "Good."

During the last trimester of my pregnancy, I developed a "separated pubic bone." Essentially, the hormones that loosen up your pelvic outlet were too high and released "early." I had a hard time sitting 8 hours a day and I could not walk far. So I was in pain if I sat too much, in pain if I walked too much, could not roll over in bed without screaming and could barely get in a car. It was, at that time, the most painful thing I had ever experienced. My midwife put me on bed rest and I left work on disability.

Then my daughter was born. My daughter was prayed for from the time I was a small child. I had always wanted a daughter so that I could have the kind of relationship with her that I have with my own mother. I love my boys but I wanted a daughter who could grow to be my friend. I certainly hope she and I can be friends when she is grown. But this little girl was planned by God in every sense of the word.

I was supposed to love her from the moment she was born. She was supposed to be my princess. All the pink clothes I spent months hunting down, the matching bows, the bracelets, the shoes and all the pictures I had plans on taking. It was supposed to be pure blessed bliss.

But it was not. I did not feel love. I did not understand why I was not head over heels in love with her. I still don't. But from the very beginning, something was wrong. I thought maybe it was because it had been a while since I had a newborn? Maybe I just had to get to know her? Maybe she would "grow" on me? And it's devastating to think you may not love your child. You begin to wonder what's wrong with you? And because Postpartum depression is so horrible, you begin to lose control of your own thoughts. I started having panic attacks, thinking about hurting myself, and I was not sleeping properly.

When she was about eight weeks old, I was chatting with a friend online about my feelings. I told her I thought I had Postpartum Depression. She refused to get offline until I called my midwife. So I called my midwife and barely mumbled "I think I have...." Before I started bawling. She did not come and see me. She did not suggest I see a therapist or a doctor. She sent out a prescription for Zoloft. Here's a band aid to make it all better...

I felt relieved. Finally, this miracle drug would help me feel better and love my child. Get back into the swing of being a full time mommy. Because during this time, I began to neglect my duties as a housewife. My husband was thankful I had finally asked for help.

I started taking the Zoloft and the first night I remember laying awake in bed feeling like my brain had ants crawling all over it. It was tingling. If you've never had your brain tingle before? It's a very interesting feeling. It's strange, scary and totally unexpected. Then the dreams came. Crazy, irrational dreams that I would wake up from exhausted. But I began sleeping better as a whole.

By the end of the first week I felt much better. But during the second week, my face started to swell and break out in huge acne like hives. I was clearly allergic to Zoloft. So I called the midwife to tell her that I definitely was starting to feel better, however, I was having a reaction to the medicine. She told me that wasn't possible. That in her experience, patients do not break out in rashes while on Zoloft. That it must be a detergent, a food, another drug, or something else new in my life. But the drug's website said it was possible and when you're depressed, you don't add new things into your life. The brand of my detergent was the least of my concerns at the time.

I think it's extremely important to note here that my relationship with God was seriously failing at this time. I have always prayed, it is who I am to confess and to ask for guidance. But I have in the past denounced my Lord. I am ashamed to confess to myself, much less here on this blog. But it's important. I have spent the years between age seventeen and twenty-five denying God a place in my life. Letting my ego tell me that I can do things on my own. That having faith is weak and dedicating your life to the service of your God is wasteful.

I've gotten over ego some in the past few years. I know I have been given four beautiful children I can not raise without God's help. That he has blessed me with this family for a reason and I must seek him the way he has me. I've also realized that I need more security in my life. But right after I had my daughter, God was really the last thing on my mind and my life reflected the loss of an active relationship with Him.

My midwife took me off the Zoloft and never called me back to see if I was okay or to suggest another drug. She just completely left me hanging at one of the most vulnerable times in my life. My husband took me to a primary care doctor and I told her about my depression. She prescribed Prozac. I took the Prozac for about six weeks and then I took myself off of it. I don't want to get into the details of why I quit taking it but it was a decision based on priorities. Prozac has some unwelcome side effects and I was not willing at that point to continue living with them.

The problem with antidepressants is they make you feel better for a little while and then when reality shows it's ugly face, they leave you hanging. They only really help you, in my experience, if you're already taking the steps to help yourself. And at that time I was not. I was having a hard time adjusting to having three children and dealing with the Postpartum hormones.

This state of struggle continued for months. Then in December 2007 my daughter turned one and financially we were struggling. I went and got an overnight job at a local hotel. It felt good to be working, it gave me a purpose other than being a full time mom and some adult interaction. My job was not hard and it did not pay well but it did help us out some. My house was not every very organized during those days but it was not a complete disaster. My patience with my oldest son was thin. We home schooled that year and his ADHD and Autism were hard for me to deal with while being depressed. It was during that time that I really started being unable to control my mouth when speaking to him. (I will write more on this later)

I had been working at the hotel for a few months and the crazy schedule was starting to wear on me. I was standing behind the counter one morning, a gentleman came to check in and it was all I could do not to vomit. The alcohol smell on him was strong and stale. My stomach was so sick for hours after he walked out. I knew then. I didn't want to think about it but I knew.

On May 13, 2008 I took a pregnancy test. It was immediately positive. We were being careful, I had been doing natural family planning and I was still nursing, but we'd had ONE careless night. This could not be happening right? Why would God give me another baby when I was already having a hard time with the three I had? When I was already having a hard time financially?

I was so shocked. It was like my worst nightmare and I had a hard time accepting it. But even though it was not my plan? Even though I was lost and scared? God knew. He knew what he was planning for our family.

To Be Continued...

Welcome To My World

I've spent a lot of time thinking about how I was going to write this post. I mean, it's kind of a big step for me. I have had another blog but my feelings about this blog and my idea for it are very different. Not only does this blog have a different topic and a different feel, it's much more soul bearing. I am exposing myself in almost every aspect of my life. My journal exposed, so to speak.

You, as a reader, might find that strange. You may not understand why I would want someone looking over my shoulder as I walk through my life. It's partly about accountability, partly because I need support and partly because I don't think my problems are all that unique.

All I ask is that if you've found yourself here. If someone linked you here and you're just browsing, please be kind. Please know that a real person with real problems is typing these words. I did not get to this point in my life overnight and it won't change overnight. Regardless of how anyone may feel about this situation, one step at a time is all I've got.

This blog is here because my life is failing. No, thankfully I'm not dying but I do spend a lot of my days wracked with unexplained pain or sleeping. Because I neglect my duties as a housewife, mother, wife and friend. Because my whole life is cluttered, unorganized chaos. Because I have not taken good enough care of my body. Because my children do not behave the way I want them to. Because I do not have as close of a relationship with my husband as I'd like. And most importantly, above all, I am not as close to the Lord as I'd like to be.

The fact is, I can't continue living the way we're living. It is not fair to myself or my family and it's not what I want for us. This is not the happy life I imagined. I'm determined to change this situation. I hope you'll stick with me as I try.

So, come on in and stay awhile. "We" have a lot of work to do.