Forgiveness. It's what's for supper.

Lots has happened since I was last here. Lots. Mostly good. Overwhelmingly good, actually.

Shortly after I last wrote, we had to leave for almost a month to be with my mom. She had open heart surgery that went fantastically well. A hiccup here and there, but she's doing great, and we are very thankful! Without it, she wouldn't be here today. Like I said. We're very, very thankful!

We also found out Hopper has virtually no immune system. This doesn't sound like a good thing, but it really is. She would still have virtually no immune system, if we didn't know, and at least by knowing, we can get her treatment. The treatment is getting infusions of replacement immunoglobulin once a month for the rest of her life. It's harvested from the B cells in the plasma that people donate. Her infusions contain the immunoglobulin from no less than 10,000 donors, and as much as 100,000 donors for each treatment! That amazes me! 

While I know some people give plasma, because it pays well, I also know there are others who donate for no other reason than to save lives. Regardless of the motivation behind the donations, I just want to say that we appreciate each and every person who donates to save our daughter's life! From the bottoms of our hearts, thank you!

Before the 'dear friend', (that tried to derail me), contacted me to see, if we could rebuild our friendship, I had already forgiven her. Instead of feeling sorry for myself and holding anger towards her, I started praying for her. It changed my mindset completely, and I had complete peace about all of it. I'm not saying that I'll let it happen to me again. I won't. I refuse to willingly participate in the destruction of anyone's mental health, including my own. 

I told her I would be willing to try to rebuild our friendship, but I also know that I'm okay with leaving it like it is, which looks nothing like it used to look. It's more of an acquaintance thing for now, and it likely will be for quite some time - perhaps forever. I've moved on. I harbor no ill feelings for her at all, but I don't think we're supposed to be really close friends, and my heart is okay with that, too. 

In spite of everything, I continue to dehoard. There are days that it might not look like much, but with each thing I toss, donate, or sell, my mind clears, and my mood lifts. Earlier this month, we got a couple of little cabinets to store our medical supplies, so we we are using shelves instead of drawers. I cleaned our old one out, purged a lot of things we no longer needed or used, and came across one thing that actually made me feel a bit sad for that person that I used to be. That person who didn't know how to clear the cobwebs from her mind enough to know that it was okay to throw certain things away.

I was finishing up the last little pile of items to sort that came out of the drawers of medical supplies yesterday. In it was a pair of those clip-on sunglasses that were covered in what looked like whitewash paint. I felt sad for the old me, who couldn't seem to throw them away, but I know her. She wasn't hanging onto them, because they were 'so important' to her that she couldn't part with them. She held onto them, because they were a splurge at a time when we couldn't really afford them, and she felt guilty they were messed up. She felt that somehow it was her responsibility to at least try to fix them, so they were usable again, and she stuck them in a tin to fix when she 'got around to it'. She just never got around to it.

And do you know what I did? I gave her a hug, I forgave her, told her to forgive herself, and then I promptly threw them in the trash. And it was freeing for both of us. 

It's amazing how good forgiveness tastes. 

Well, That Escalated Quickly

I hate when this happens. 

I get a thought or idea in my head. Something special. Something that I feel is meaningful, but others don't. And yet I need their help to pull it off, so it falls apart. And then I fall apart. Or explode. Or a bit of both.

Today was one such day.

We watched Baby Bug today, and I was able to finish up a handprint/footprint painting for both sets of great grandparents, and for her other grandmother. Each painting consisted of no less than 3 footprints and no less than 2 handprints. And while that doesn't sound like any big deal, it's no small feat with a 1 year old. And we had so much fun doing it! She was really enjoying herself, and so was I.

We laughed about the fact that I got paint on my clothes, and she got some on her paint clothes, too. We talked about each of the characters in the paintings, and she was very proud of all her hard work! We talked about her giving her painting to her other grandmother. (The great grands live out of state). It really was a lot of fun.

She was getting tired, so I held her while she napped, and I drifted off a bit myself, because once she starts that deep rhythmic breathing once she closes her eyes, my breathing follows suit. It's rare that I can keep my eyes open when I hold her when she's napping. I thoroughly enjoy the snuggles. The time goes so fast. Why is it that babies are little for such a short time?

The plan when she woke up from her nap was to take pictures in front of the Christmas tree, so we could take it down. I want her to be able to see pictures of what she looked like when she painted these masterpieces. I wanted her to see how proud she was years from now when she looked back at her former self holding her paintings. I wanted to give her parents a picture to go with the paintings she did for them, because they are little for such a short amount of time. 

And I wanted a picture of us together. Because years from now when I look at it, I want to be able to feel her little arms around mine. To breathe her in again as I look at the pictures. To remember all the fun we had. 

But nobody would help me.

Bugster got off early, and I asked her, if she could help. She said yes at first, and then she changed her mind. I asked Hubster, but he's having a bad Parkinson's day. He's been cold all day. So he spent most of the day under a blanket in his recliner. And by the time he realized I needed help I'd been talking about for weeks, Bubster showed up to pick up Baby Bug. 

And things just fell apart. I asked Bubster, if he would help. He jokingly said 'no', because he says that a lot. But he also didn't do a thing to help me. And of course, when Baby Bug saw her daddy, it was all over. And she wouldn't sit with me for pictures. So they went home.

And I was left with all sorts of emotions that I wasn't prepared for. Disappointment apparently wasn't enough. I went straight into self-loathing, self-hatred, and every negative memory from every single negative experience in my life flooded in at once. And I exploded. Which made me hate myself even more. 

I'm just done. 

I'm done with having a Christmas tree in my living room for 4 months. I'm done with falling victim to my high expectations, (who knew a snapshot was a high expectation?). I'm done with my husband having Parkinson's and life being so incredibly different than what it was supposed to be. And I'm done with asking for help. 

I'm just done. 

I'll Take "A Side of Frozen Claustrophobia in Limbo Land" for the win, Alex.

Christmas came late this year for us. Or really early. I guess it depends on how you look at it. We were all finally feeling well enough to celebrate Christmas in mid-February. We still have our tree up, because we have to get a couple of pictures of Baby Bug with some cute little paintings we made for her parents with her hand and footprints. It will be good to get the tree down soon. I'm starting to feel claustrophobic. We will have Baby Bug over tomorrow, so we will get it down this weekend.

The bad thing is that I've been feeling a bit more claustrophobic in the house lately. 

The good thing is that I've been feeling a bit more claustrophobic in the house lately.

As much as I hate the discomfort of the feeling, it always leads to a surge of dehoarding, and I'm really beyond wanting to get it done! However, I'm far enough behind again that I'm feeling frozen. I just need to get moving. Once I do, I'll thaw out a bit and will start accomplishing things again. So tonight, I will make a master list of things that need to be done in the near future and another list for the not-so-distant future. Lists always make me feel better, because I feel like I know where to start. It gives me a visual of what I've accomplished when I mark something off the list. And yes. I've been known to add something I've accomplished to the list after I've done it. It's still a record, and it helps.

Hubster's Parkinson's has left him exhausted all the time. It doesn't help that we have been sick more often than not since October and had to cancel Christmas week after week after week. But now that we're all feeling better, I need to kick it into gear. It's so easy to let his exhaustion be contagious, but I can't afford to do that. 

I need to propel myself out of the Land of Limbo.