Relentless.

I've never been great at making New Year's resolutions. I mean I've had good intentions and thought about making them, but it just didn't make sense for me to make resolutions for specific goals I had in mind. Life in our house isn't necessarily conducive to keeping a list of  individual goals in the forefront of my mind. Too many things/illnesses/surgeries/doctors' appointments/etc. eventually nudge out any thought of resolutions, and things go back to they way they always are before too long. While I do consider what I would like to change the following year, I don't write it down and don't make a commitment that I can't keep. I don't need the extra pressure. I've got enough pressure without adding an extra helping, because it's tradition.

Last week, a friend asked me, if I'd ever chosen a word to represent a year instead of resolutions. I hadn't , but I was intrigued. My thoughts over the last several days have continually drifted to her question. I really like the concept of a single word to represent the whole year to call on for motivation. It's a lot easier to remember a single word than it is a long list of things you want to change. I like that I can have one word represent how I want to tackle things in my life. 

So for 2019, I've chosen the word 'Relentless'. 

I will be relentless in my quest to tackle the hoard and continue to make good decisions to get rid of things. I will be relentless in my pursuit of personal growth. I will be relentlessly loving my family. 

These I can do. They might not look like a specific goal on a piece of paper, but I will accomplish much, and I will be able to motivate myself with a single word. 

I. Will. Be. Relentless.

Self-preservation.

My entire life I've dealt with varying degrees of depression.


In high school, I survived a suicide attempt. 


After Bugster was born, I dealt with postpartum depression. I began feeling suicidal and started having horrible thoughts about hurting our baby. It scared me to death. I got help and worked through things until I was out of trouble, but it's something of which I've always been acutely aware, because I never, ever want to get to that point again.


A few years ago, I found out that I had a severe Vitamin D deficiency. Since I started supplementing with Vitamin D, I've found I don't go as deeply into the depths as I have in the past, and I'm so very grateful for that. The antidepressant I've been on for several years has helped as well, but the Vitamin D definitely had more of a positive affect on me than it did.


I know that depression will always be a part of who I am, and I know that there are certain situations, and unfortunately, certain people I must avoid to keep my head above water. I struggle with having to limit my friendships with certain people, because I do know that everyone needs a friend, but I also know that I can't always be it. It quite literally is for my own self-preservation.


When I was dealing with the postpartum, I had a friend who lived across the street from us. She and her husband were having marital problems, and she constantly harped about how horrible he was. I don't recall her saying more than a handful of positive things about him or their relationship. Granted, neither my husband nor I had a really high opinion of him, but that wasn't the issue. The issue was that the more I was around her the more I found myself finding things wrong with my own husband. Things that I used to just take for normal quirks and differences soon became arguing point.


I was shocked when I realized how contagious negativity was for me and how I had allowed myself to be drawn in. I slowly started to distance myself from her, because I didn't want our friendship to interfere in my marriage. Thankfully, we moved away less than a year later, but before we had a chance to get out of there, my 'friend'  cheated on her husband and ran off with another guy.


I felt like I had betrayed my husband's trust by talking with her, by venting to her about every little thing about my husband that annoyed me, and it devastated me knowing I played an active part in it. I know the postpartum played a role in all of it, but it was still no excuse. I allowed myself to be drawn into her train wreck, and our marriage could have easily become a casualty. 


Don't get me wrong. I know that not all marriages are good marriages. And sometimes, people need to vent. To confide that things aren't going so well, because they're scared, and they need advice, and they want reassurance. I get that. But there's a huge difference between an occasional venting and someone being negative about their spouse with almost every word they speak. 


I knew then that the only way our marriage would work would be for me to stay away from people who were willing to regularly trash their spouses. It makes my heart heavy, and I want to help, but I can't. My husband and our marriage means the world to me, and I just can't go there. And to be blunt, Hubster is much more important to me than their problems and even than the friendship in which I may have an investment. 


I made that mistake once, and I'm never going to allow it to happen again. My husband and our marriage is always going to come first. Because we really are that good together, and because he means the world to me.


Because we are worth it.


It's all a matter of self-preservation.

And now for your reading enjoyment...The Hubster.

Several years ago, I put a humongous dent in the side of our van when I was backing down a narrow alley with a cinderblock wall. This was less than 2 weeks after I'd already caught the edge of the sliding door on a wooden light pole and folded a small part of it back like a sardine can. And even though I knew he wouldn't be mad at me, I was afraid to tell my husband what I'd done.

We had to meet across town, so he could watch the girls when I ran in for an appointment, and I drove straight from the accident site. When I got out of the car, I was on the verge of tears. I felt horrible! I mean, in a time span of 2 weeks, I put a few thousand dollars' worth of damage on our vehicle. I couldn't believe it. All I could think of when I was driving to meet him was that he works so incredibly hard to support us, and I just blew way too much money on a careless mistake.

He was waiting outside his work truck when I pulled up. He had a big smile on his face when he saw me, and I just started crying. He pulled me into his arms and squeezed while I just kept saying how sorry I was. His response? "You know, Jude, as soon as I'm perfect, I'll expect you to be."

I was speechless.

His kind words and love made me totally forget how horrible I was feeling over this huge mistake I'd made.

Our family isn't perfect. We're obviously not perfect people, or we wouldn't have a hoarding situation. We get irritated with one another. We argue at times, but we realize that to get respect from one another we must give it. So we don't run each other down to anyone, ourselves included. We don't tell others about our arguments. We don't shred one another with personal insults even when we are at our angriest. And we certainly don't share one another's short comings in a public forum. Ever.

I can't imagine how betrayed I'd feel, if I found he was telling others how much he disliked this, that or the other thing I do that bothers him. I'm know he'd feel betrayed, if I did, too, and I would never want to hurt him like that.

He's my best friend.

My lover.

My husband.

I am indeed blessed.

Memories

I don't remember the exact time frame my parents gave me my bedspread, curtains and hangers, but I was still in high school. It would have been for my 15th or 16th birthday, but I just don't remember for sure. I do know, though that they meant the world to me, and I still have them almost 30 years later. It's stuff like this that makes decisions hard for me.

The bedspread they got me was a very pretty floral design with lavenders and roses in it. It wasn't your typical cotton fabric that can be so stiff and hard, but a soft, sort of silky taffeta. I'd fall asleep stroking it. I just loved it.

The curtains had sort of a romantic way of falling on the window - light and airy. They were semi-sheer with a valance sewn on the top, and when they were criss-crossed one behind the other, you couldn't see through them at all, but they let in the light. I felt like I was in a fairy tale in my bedroom with the lavender carpet and my matching bedspread and curtains. My bedroom always made me feel happy.

Mom spent hours sewing on a flat lavender lace to the edge of the bedspread and the 4 curtains to make them match, and to make them more special. She put so much love into dolling them up for me, and I was in heaven!

Years later, after my hubby and I were married, I found more of the curtains at a store in North Carolina. I bought another 2 sets, so I had 8 curtains all together. We had a lot of windows in the house where we lived, and I wanted to still be able to use the curtains my parents had given me. I put the ones without the lace in behind as liners, which allowed me to criss-cross the ones with the lace in the front. It allowed for brightness and privacy at the same time.

We used the curtains and bedspread until 8 years or so ago, when we finally bought our bedroom set and changed color schemes, but I haven't been able to bring myself to get rid of them. I mentioned the other day that our daughter gets married next week. She and her husband will close on a house a week later, and they'll be getting the curtains to use in their bedroom, as they'll match color-wise. It makes me feel good knowing that they'll use them for awhile, too.

I still am not sure what I'll be doing with the bedspread, but I'll be doing something special with it. It's been too big a part of my life to just give it to someone. It was something that has never, ever made me unhappy. Not once. There aren't many things in one's life that can be said about. I have Mom and Dad to thank for all those years of happiness!

At the time that I had the lavender lace-trimmed curtains and bedspread and the lavender carpet, I needed hangers. This was back in the day when plastic hangers first came out, and they were only available in a few select colors. So imagine my delight when my parents surprised me with a new package of lavender hangers for one of my birthday or Christmas gifts! I was thrilled! They lived with me in countless homes and traveled the US with us. They've been a very big part of my life for the last 30 years.

So when I went through the hangers the other day, I made the decision to finally let them go. I put them in the bag with all the other hangers I decided to give to my friend. But it hasn't been easy. I had to request that she send her son to come pick up the bag as soon as possible, so I didn't dig through and retrieve my lifelong companions. I've been okay as long as I haven't thought about them, but even while writing this post, I keep wanting to email her and ask her for the lightest blue hangers with the lavender tint. My heart is racing, I'm feeling quite anxious, and I'm regretting giving them away.

I know that this feeling will pass. I may still have twinges of regret tomorrow or even the next day, but I'll make it through.

I have the memories. Memories of love, of Mom and Dad and the sacrifice they made to give me such a happy room. The memories will be enough.

Nobody can take them away.

Boopada ba ba ba ba boo. Boopada ba ba ba ba boo.

I'm punch drunk tonight. Too much caffeine today. Too little rest. Too much coughing. Too little sounding like myself and a little too much resemblance to the great Louis Armstrong. And for whatever reason, with my gravely, raw voice, I find that I cannot stop singing scat. At one point on the phone with my daughter tonight, she asked me to please stop, or she would have to hang up. :::sigh::: I get no respect.

But you know...it's not often that I have a voice that sounds like Mr. Armstrong. And not often that I'm punch drunk enough to not be able to stop. Oh well. I may as well go with the flow and enjoy myself.

I was not able to finish the insurance paperwork today. With the hubby being at work, the middle daughter hounded me. She believed I spent enough time taking my test and I should be done. I did make plenty of progress today. I just didn't finish.

I have to make a couple of phone calls tomorrow for last minute price checks. I only have to figure out the claims for 6 things. Well, sort of. One of those 6 things are adorable things that the kids made in school and brought home. Their masterpieces. And how am I possibly going to assess a value to them? They're irreplaceable.

I did take pictures of each individual one, so I have the memory. Unfortunately, the memory now includes the mildew, mold and water damage on these priceless works of art. I'm hoping I can use some photo editing software and cover the mildew somehow. Eventually, I'd love to put all the pictures in an electronic picture frame, so we can enjoy them whenever we want. Still. It won't be the same, and I have no idea how to calculate what they're worth.

One of my favorite things that was destroyed I had every intention of hanging on the wall for eternity. I just hadn't gotten around to it. When our oldest was about 9, she had to make a family tree with her parents. We spent hours on it, and it turned out beautifully. It was a huge tree, because I come from a very large family, and by the time both mine and hubby's families were combined on the board, it was hard to fit everyone on there.

After cutting out several individual leaves and making the background for the tree, she cut out roughly 60 hearts. They each hung from a small piece of yarn like apples waiting to be plucked. Each heart had a different name on it. From her grandparents on down. All of her aunts and uncles and cousins and sisters were on this big, beautiful family tree. She was so proud of it. We were so proud of her. She worked so hard on it!

I loved the fact that she chose to put hearts on it instead of apples. That she wanted everyone to know that family symbolized love to her.

How do I possibly put a price tag on something that beautiful?