Rusty

Rusty: having lost agility or alertness; out of practice.

I am rusty.  Somewhere in the midst of crazy life happenings, I let myself go.

I remember when I was in college and I was writing on a consistent basis; I had dreams of becoming an author and teaching on the side. I loved creating a masterpiece of words splattered onto my paper in perfect combination and form.

I remember when I could run a 5 mile race without difficulty.

I remember going to friend’s houses and bringing them cookie dough because they had a rough day, or bringing them ice cream, just because. I remember making plans and keeping them.

Now, I’m rusty.  I miss writing, but it doesn’t come easily any more. I’m afraid I have nothing to say, and I have everything to say.

I’m rusty.  Running a mile is difficult. My body jiggles and wiggles and can’t carry me as far as it once did.

I’m rusty. Reading became so laborious and taxing in college and in my “career” that reading for “fun” became a thing of the past.  I rarely read for pleasure anymore, though, in the last few months I have tried to make myself read at least one (1) non-work-related literature source a month, and I have, and I’ve enjoyed it; I’ve missed it; but it’s not as easy as it once was.

I’m rusty. My relationships and friendships I’ve created and made over the years have fizzled out.  I mean I follow you on Facebook and Instagram and check to see what you’re up to, but if you really think about it, we’re not really friends.  I don’t make an effort to call or to email or to really check up on you and see how you’re doing.

I’m rusty. I used to have clear cut goals for my life.  I knew what I wanted out of life; I knew where I was going and what I was doing.  Now, every morning I look in the mirror, give myself a pep-talk and walk race out the door. I don’t know what I want out of life anymore.  Ever since I was a little girl, literally 6 years old, I can remember telling everyone I was going to be a teacher. I have always wanted to be a teacher, and I worked hard at achieving that goal, and I am. I am a teacher, and I hate it. Don’t get me wrong, I love literature and I love my students and I love the relationships and bonds I make with students, but the profession of teaching? Hate it, and I hate that I hate it. There are so many things outside of the classroom that make it very difficult to enjoy.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Fort Morgan High School; I have the best administration and some really great kids; the support system is wonderful; and there is some really good teaching happening in the classrooms. But I guess it’s more of a… I don’t know… disappointment?  I worked towards my goal of going to college and getting my teaching degree for so long that it was the only thing I focused on, that I lost sight of who I am and what I need. So I’ve become rusty.

How to clean rust?

When I typed in the above question, how fitting that one of the answers was time to get tough. It is time to get tough. 

I’m starting to write again.  Yes, it’s on here, this poor neglected blog of mine, that’s lucky to reach 30 people, but I’m writing.

I’m starting to run again. Yes, it’s a struggle to even go a mile. Yes, I’m huffing and puffing and jiggly-wiggly, but I’m going out and trying. I’m sore as can be the next day, but the next day I do it again. Soon my rusty body will not feel the pain it currently feels from so many years of neglect.

I’m exploring my options. It’s a tough decision, but after many conversations with Christopher and my hour and a half a day in the car alone to think, I am 90% sure that this year will be my last year teaching.  It’s bittersweet.  I have a lot of emotions about it.  I’m not entirely sure what will become of me or what I will do, but I can’t keep doing what I’m doing.  It’s not fair to me, to my students or to my family (aka Chris).

I’m getting tough.  I know it’s not going to be perfect overnight, but I’m getting tough.

Happy Go Lucky

Happy.  This has never been a word that I would choose to describe me, my personality or anything to do with who I am.  I know that sounds bad, but you know when you are in a new group setting and having to introduce yourself and choose just three words to describe yourself, happy has never been anywhere near to a word I would choose.  I can think of people in my life that I would label as happy and I can remember thinking how strange it must be to be happy all the time. 

Cynical and creative are always words that would be used to describe the person who Tiffany is.  She has always been and always will be.  In the last four or five years, cranky might actually be added to that description list, and I’m okay with that.  I’m okay with who I am and I’ve come to terms with who and what I am and what I’m not.

Until…

About a month ago (after my miscarriage/d&c if you recall) I was sitting in Exam Room 2, waiting for Dr. A to come back from a surgery for my post op appointment.  They weren’t sure how much longer he was going to be, so I was fully dressed and texting Chris when I heard his voice outside the room and him barge into the room.  He began making small talk about what I don’t recall the details at this point, but something he said that day has stuck in my brain ever since: Tiffany, you’re always so happy!  Me: is that a bad thing? Dr. A: no, it’s a great trait to have.  You have such a positive outlook on life and are always cheery and happy. 

When I got home, I told Chris what Dr. A said, he laughed and said he must not know you very well. This upset me, but was true.

This happened almost a month ago, but it was such a profound moment for me.  Like I said, and like anyone who has ever known me will probably say, happy and cheery are not words that describe who I am.  But why can’t they?  This is the big eye opener for me: Why can’t these words describe me? 

I am not a happy person, but I can be.  I look at my life and I have a pretty wonderful life.  I think of my marriage and I almost always tear up because it is beyond any relationship family I ever could have dreamed up for myself and it makes me happy.

So I resolved, and I have to resolve every day that I get out of bed and deal with other people, to be happy.  I want to be known for being that person who always had a smile, who always was genuinely happy. There are days where I am not happy and days where I am cranky and snap at Chris or my students, but I’m getting so much better at being happy and I can feel it.  And those days where I am cranky or snappy or just downright unhappy I just have to try better the next day and the day after that.

I think about my life, which is a pretty great life, might I add, and I have no reason to be unhappy.  I have trials just like everyone else, and there have been some really crummy things that have happened to me and Chris in the last year, but I have to remember what I want to be and accomplish in life.  Yes, it would be very easy to be angry and upset especially considering our circumstances of what happened, but then I remember what I want more.  I want to be happy, and being upset/cynical/angry doesn’t hurt anyone but me and my relationships with my husband, my family and my Heavenly Father.

So this is my resolve: To be happy; To smile through the tears; To be that person that is cheery and happy and makes you want to be too (you know those people who are like this, and this isn't going to happen overnight for dear ol' Tiffany though, so be patient.) To remember that my trials aren't the end of the world, and I always, always, always have something to be grateful for and happy about.

 

Third Time's NOT a charm...

I feel like I’ve let my poor little neglected blog die, it’s been so long since I’ve written anything for myself, and I have a million reasons why I haven’t, but the truth is it doesn’t matter, because I haven’t, and nothing I do today is going to change that.

I feel like I have so many thoughts in my mind that I am trying to sort out, which I am not good at doing in my head, so I need to write.  I need to bleed out my heart and soul so maybe; just maybe, I can have some peace again.

In late October, Chris and I experienced our second miscarriage.  I knew it wasn’t going to be a successful pregnancy, because I just had a feeling.  We didn’t go to the doctor, and we had a miscarriage at home, dealing with all that comes with that.

After this miscarriage, I knew I couldn’t keep teaching in Brush.  I am not going to go into detail about Brush here on my adventure blog, but there was so much happening in our school and district that were against my moral compass, and I really struggled with how much stress I was under, so having that second miscarriage I realized I couldn’t do it anymore.  I resigned. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but it wasn’t going to be working there.  Leaving Brush was not pretty.  Administration retaliated and made life pretty miserable for me and Chris and I have never felt so betrayed in my life.

But as awful as administration was to me in Brush, I had never felt better.  I was relieved to be done with that school and district.  I wasn’t sure what was going to happen in our lives, but I hadn’t felt surer of a decision in my life.  In fact, a week after I was no longer working in Brush, I was offered another job, and I got pregnant again.  We were so excited when we found out in December that I was pregnant, and I was feeling “normal” pregnancy symptoms which was such a relief after everything we have been through in the last year or so with my first miscarriage.  What an exciting time for us and what an amazing year 2015 was going to be. 

Because I started a new job, I didn’t have insurance for the month of January, so while I should have had my first prenatal exam in mid-January, we had to postpone it until February when I would have insurance again.  I tell you what; February 2^nd could not come soon enough!  Chris even had a countdown going… “only ___ more days until baby day!”  

We had an ultrasound appointment first, and I knew as she kept trying to find an ovary that I was having a dejavu of last year.  I could see that there was nothing on the screen, and when she went to go get the doctor I looked at Chris and we both knew: a third miscarriage.  The doctor came in, and made her look at the uterus and sac, looking for signs of a molar pregnancy using simple enough words for me to understand, but now cannot remember what was said (I only remember that Dr. A grabbed/held my foot and I thought it extremely strange and slightly awkward, but how do you say hey dude, I know you’ve been up my junk, but could you please not touch me? That’d be great, thanks. Yea, you just can’t say it.)

After getting into an exam room, Dr. A said it didn’t look like another molar pregnancy and everything looked to be pointing to a “normal” miscarriage and that our best option (after reviewing all the options) would be for “nature to take its course.”  I was surprised at myself when I was able to speak with such conviction, “that’s what we did last time, and I’m not willing to do that again, so I want to schedule a D&C.”  I think I took Dr. A by surprise too, because it took him a minute to respond.  He agreed to schedule the D&C the following Friday but we were going to do a 48 hour blood test and have an appointment the following Monday to go over everything, have another ultra sound to make sure nothing had changed, blah, blah, blah, do you want us to call you with the blood results? {No.} We’ll call you once we schedule the surgery blah, blah, blah, hang on a second and…. I was so excited when I saw you were coming in, this is just so sad, blah, blah, blah.

I looked at Chris, stoic as ever, and grabbed his hand as tears stung the corners of my eyes.  Why are they not letting us leave? I just want to get out of here.  He squeezed my hand and smiled; everything is going to be alright.

We finally got out of the office and got blood drawn.  Two days later, another draw. Thursday, I got a call from a number I didn’t recognize, and I was compelled to answer.  “Hi Tiffany, this is Kathleen, Dr. A would like to speak with you, do you have a minute?” “uh, yeah.” “okay, here he is… Hi Tiffany, it’s Dr. A, so we have a problem with your blood results… blah blah blah,  I don’t feel comfortable waiting to do your d&c, we need to do it now…” My head started spinning. This was not the same Dr. A from Monday who thought everything was fine.  This was the urgent Dr. A from last year when we found out about the molar pregnancy. Tears started streaming down my face and I grabbed my stuff and ran, locking myself in my classroom.  I can’t do this again. I called Chris, unable to get out very many intelligible words.  

Friday was a blur of more appointments and more blood draws and more questions to answer. The only thing I remember was in my appointment with Dr. A on Friday, he looked at me and said “You are such a remarkable woman; I feel privileged to be your doctor.”  I think I remember it, because it is the first time someone has ever called me a woman without young in front of it, and I was slightly offended and felt kind of old. 

I am so overwhelmed.  For some reason this time has been harder than before.  I have spent my entire commute some mornings bawling because of how unfair I feel this situation is.  Why did Heavenly Father let the girl who was visibly about 7-8 months pregnant I saw smoking a joint outside of Taco Johns get to have a baby and I can’t? Why do people who can’t even take care of themselves let alone a baby get to have one?  Why… Why… why!!??!!??  I have so many questions and no answers.  Why were my numbers so high? Why was there such urgency in Dr. A’s voice on that phone call? Emotionally I have been a wreck, and last time, I remember feeling so much better and clearer and happy in every way, but this time I still do not feel like myself. I feel… heavy, I guess is the best way to describe it.

It's Working!

I figure I should update on my summer of love project now that we are already a month in (tear! a month of my summer is already gone!) and all I have to say is: it's working!

I feel so much better than I have all year.  A few highlights: I have lost 10 lbs! Now, understand, with how much weight I gained, which was considerable, it definitely does not look like I have lost 10 lbs, but my scale has definitely come down, and I feel it in my running.

My running isn't as far along as I would have hoped, but my endurance is so much better. When I started out, I really couldn't go very far, and I can now go triple what I started out at. (Sorry for the ending in double prepositions, but alas, what can I say, I'm on summer break, at least you get my acknowledgement that I know I shouldn't do it.)  I run on the back road behind our house, which is nice, because I can bring the dogs, but it sucks, because the weeds are thick and it's difficult to run in. Especially with the distance I am wanting to accomplish, I am going to have to find another place. I have a cheap elliptical we bought this winter, but I truly prefer running outside, so a solution is definitely being sought out.

My house is coming along. My in-laws were here for a few days, and they helped with some things on the house (they are seriously great that way, even when I say not to worry about any projects, they always find something to help us out with) Chris built some miniature white picket fences (I've always been in love with white picket fences) to go around my flowers in the front of the house, because we found out that I'm not the only one who loves flowers, Ace does too.  So much in fact that he chews on my rose bushes and digs up my plants. So Chris designed and measured and made these cute little fences for me so I could have some flowers.

And now for a photo update:

Chris's (27th!) birthday: celebrating my love

Midnight, in a box, because she's the cutest, seriously, ever.

Love! He is so good with them!

Namara and her egg.

Piglets? I felt like a super cool aunt this day.

We did some updating in the kitchen. I seriously need to do a post just on our house to show the before and afters so far. Seriously drastic differences!

My flowers and white picket fence! Eeep! :)

My sweet (mostly finished) front porch, and my second picket fence. And my Lillys :)

My morning runs with mister and Pandora (sweet song, eh)

And last, but most importantly, my honey:

And just to show you why Christopher was on my list, this:

Every morning, without fail, Chris texts me. I'm not even kidding you. Every. Single. Morning. 

How did I get so lucky?

The Summer of Love 2014

My good friend and colleague told me recently that she is planning on having this summer to be her summer of love.  (That sentence is really horrible grammar, but I can't figure out how to fix it right now, so you will just have to deal with it.) She is a few years older than me and single and fiercely independent.  She and I are kindred spirits, but that's a post for another day.  Her summer of love is one of finding love and a companion who can walk beside her and support her in her adventures and start a family (see! Kindred spirits!)

I have been thinking on this phrase, and I have decided to adopt it and also make 2014 the summer of love for Tiffany.  How is this possible when I'm already married?? Keep reading! That's why we're here!

After I got pregnant I thought my life was perfect, things were finally falling into place and life was beautiful. When I found out I lost the baby I was devastated. If you've read my blog, you know how I felt. You also know how I felt when I found out I couldn't have children.  What you don't know is that I feel like since December-ish, everything else in my life has fallen apart.

Yes, my husband joined the church and has gained an amazing testimony, he loves me unconditionally and is my rock, he keeps me grounded when all I want to do is sink beneath it. But things have been so hard. Work, church, life, home has been so hard.

I look in the mirror and I don't like what I see.  I have gained a tremendous amount of weight (between pregnancy weight that I didn't lose, birth control weight, and stress weight), I look exhausted, and I just feel unhappy.  I hate feeling the way I do, but I feel like my life is spinning out of control, much like the tornado we had here in Akron earlier this week. I am just struggling, (hence my lack of writing lately) but this post is not about my struggles, it's about how I'm going to change all that, and how I'm going to do that this summer of love.

First and foremost I bought a new pair of shoes.  Now what does a pair of shoes have to do with love? Well we all know a woman's true love is an amazing new pair of shoes, but also, this:

                                                                                  

                                                 

Typically I don't think this is referring to a pair of running shoes, but in my case it does. I've always wanted to run a half marathon, ever since I was in cross country in high school. It's a bucket list item so to speak, and I have wanted to get into running again, but I didn't have a good pair of running shoes (despite what Chris says about the amount of shoes in my closet.) I have been wanting a pair of ASICS, but they are a bit pricey. ASICS are what I wore when I was running daily in high school and no other pair of tennis/running shoe can compare. I've heard Brooks are pretty fantastic too, but they're even more pricey, so I'll stick with ASICS for now. Plus I got a killer Kohls deal on this pair:

In addition to just owning a fabulous pair of new shoes, these shoes will lead me down my path of love. I am planning on running a half-marathon on Labor Day, which gives me all summer to prep my body to do an amazing thing, and doing this amazing thing (I mean running 13 miles is pretty amazing) I can start to love myself again. I am pretty sure by forcing my body (which looks as if the only half marathoning it's capable of is eating) to run a half marathon, I can not only be proud of myself for an accomplishment, but also love my body, because just saying, I will probably lose some weight in the process. Win-Win for loving myself. 

Secondly is to love my Heavenly Father and to love my Savior, Jesus Christ. Now don't get me wrong, I do love my Heavenly Father and my Savior, I just feel as if I don't have a strong enough relationship with them. I've made this comment before, but in our desperate times we have a tendency to do one of two things: cling on to the gospel and it's teachings, or we let it go because we are just so overwhelmed. I have a tendency to do the latter. I've done both, but my tendency is to stop doing everything we are asked to do because it gets too hard to "do it all".  So this summer I want to work on my testimony and loving my Savior and my Heavenly Father. I also want to be ready for my endowment by the end of the summer, because Chris and I are planning on next March making a special trip to Logan to be sealed for time and all eternity (more on that later). I want to be ready now instead of getting there and realizing I am not ready, and I don't want to be the reason Chris doesn't go through the temple when he is ready.

Third. Love my job. This year I have been flying by the seat of my pants. I have struggled this year with so many aspects of my career. In fact, it has brought many conversations at home on whether or not I want to stay in education, or if I want to go get a Master's degree pursuing another career entirely. I want to give it one more shot, so this summer I am planning on going into school once a week. On this weekly trip, I am going to clean and organize my classroom. Clean, uncluttered environments are the only way to learn. I am also going to get my whole school year ready (because they're changing what I'm doing for the third year in a row). I want to get my lessons, activities, handouts, etc. ready for the entire school year. If I get all of this ready this summer, it will take off a lot of stress during the school year, and I can focus on other things, like being:

                       

Fourth: love my home. I will be the first to admit I HATED our house when Chris bought it. Many may even know the story of how I started crying when I first stepped foot in our house. So I was a little bitter for a while, until I realized the power of paint. Holy cow! That made a world of difference! Then we put pictures on the wall of one of the happiest days of my life, (my wedding, duh!) and I started to put a little work and sweat into our house and with help from Chris, my in-laws, and Kale, I felt like we had a home. In fact we were talking about moving a couple weeks ago, and it made me sad, because I really love what we have done to our house. It is far from perfect, but we have put so much time and work into the house that it feels like home. It feels like ours. Holy Mack- sidetracked! Love my home. Still much to do. I don't think a house is a home until there are flowers in the front yard. I am planning on putting some love into the outside of our house now: clean up the yard, plant a garden, plant some flowers, paint the exterior, and truly love what an amazing place we have that we OWN, that we can fix and make better. Sometimes the task is daunting, which makes me have my negative attitude, but I am planning on loving my home and putting all kinds of work into it this summer.

(This is a little preview of something we started, but you see?!?! Flowers! Of course it snowed shortly after I planted them, and they died :( so I will have to replace them)

And last, love my honey. I mean this kind of speaks for itself, cause look at that face:

How can anyone not love that face? I mean seriously, he's the cutest! I hate to admit this, but there are times when I am just mean to him. It is a horrible thing to admit, but I am.  I think because I know he will still love me unconditionally, but that's no excuse. He is more than I ever wanted in a husband (you know those silly checklists we make when we're young? Yea, he's more than that). This summer I am going to work on showing and expressing my love to him in simple, pure ways, so that he knows I don't take him for granted, because my life with him really is my happily ever after:

                          

So that is my plan for the 2014 summer of love.  My summer doesn't officially start for 12 1\2 more days (but who's counting?) but I am going to start working now because it's never too early to start loving yourself.