How cute are they?

I just couldn't stand it....I had to put them on here. They are the cutest! This was the first time the twins had ever had their picture done and so it was a crazy day. But, well worth it. Lu-Lu kept thinking she had to protect Manny from the woman taking the picture! And poor Tess....being the oldest....she had to show the litte kids how to behave. Such a burden to be the oldest! These are most of my children.....my "kids that aren't really my kids" anyway!

Ever just get tired?

Tired. The word can mean so many different things. And yet...most people use it without explaining themselves. And when you tell people you're tired...it's a great vague statement. It can explain almost anything...without having to tell anyone particulars. This is probably why I use it so much. But, when I tell people I'm tired...I mean it on many levels. And sometimes those levels are more complex than I want to think about.

Of course, that can probably mean I am not getting enough sleep at night. Which who does? I'm a night owl...so midnight is relatively early for me. Which sucks at 6:30 the following morning! You'd think I'd learn...but I haven't so far.

Or, maybe it could mean that I'm tired of my job. Since the place I tend to use this excuse the most...is at work. And that's true. My job is nothing special, and I'm reminded everyday that I am not special for doing it. So, yes....I guess this version of tired is true for me also!

But, another meaning could be that I am tired of certain family arguments. Or of feeling out of touch with my friends. Or of trying to figure out what a guy wants from me. Or of trying to make myself enjoy my own company. Or of trying to squeeze more money out of money that wasn't there to begin with. Or of feeling like a failure every time I reach for a cigarette. Or of worrying that I'm not someone who deserves to do mission work and represent God. The list could go on and on.

I guess overall....I'm tired. There isn't even one explanation for what I'm tired of....it's everything.

How do I put it in words?

Friends. Everyone has them. Lucky people have some close ones. And some people have a few friends who have blurred the line between friendship and family. These are the people who have a bond with you that has surpassed what a normal friendship is, but has gone to the level of loving them as you do your family. You can think of nothing they could do that would make you not love them. They will make you angry - but you would never walk away. They will challenge you - and you will always rise (or stoop) to their level. They will hold you up when you fall apart - just so you can do the same for them - no matter the reason. This is truly a gift in life - to have friendships in which the unconditional love will always be there.

I've been extremely lucky in my life. I have friends like this. Not a lot of them - but enough to get me through. I've had them for so long - that I can't think of a memory that doesn't have at least one of them in it. Some have been there since I started elementary school. Tangled in almost every childhood memory I have. And even through many years and miles - to still be able to give me the strength and love I need. Some have made it through the horrible teenage years with me. Sharing every single experience in our lives with each other - sometimes with a brutal honesty. And still - knowing all of my mistakes and shortcomings - being able to see the good in me and show me when I forget. Some have come along later - through the many years since school. Forcing me to remember to grow up - dragging me along most of the way. Yet - watching me fall time and time again - they are always there to pick me back up (or kick the ass of whoever knocked me down). And still others have fought their way in. They've been pillars for me to lean on - when I didn't know I needed them. And no matter how hard I've tried to fight them - they've been there to fight for me - when I wasn't sure I deserved it.

These friends - who in number only come to about 5 - are my family. Even with the already large and oddly close family I have - these people have become my extended family. They are the ones I run to with problems - the ones who listen to me - the people on earth that I would risk my life for. I can't imagine my life without them. Because there is no other people on earth who would let me in their lives this much. We've been through graduations, weddings & marriages, pregnancies, children, and I can't wait for whatever will be next. These people have let me in their lives and given me a place to belong in their hearts. It's more than I could have ever asked for. They've let me play a part in the biggest experiences of their lives. I've been in the weddings. I've watched the pregancies. I've held the babies the day they were born. I've listened and given any advice I could. And they've let me do those things.

Because of them my life is full. I love them like brothers and sisters. Love their children (present & future) like my own. I only hope that they know this. That they understand what they bring into my life. Because without them - I wouldn't be me. They keep me young - force me to be an adult - and prove me wrong about myself everyday. They've shown me that people will choose to love me - because they did. And they didn't have to. I just pray that I have been half the friend to them. I just had to send this out into the world. So that maybe somehow it would reach some of them. And they would know exactly how much they mean to me.

Does everyone see what I see?

Everyone has insecurities. Anyone who says that they don't - well - they are lying. There is something that every person on earth doesn't like about themselves or their life. The problem is when these insecurities overwhelm a person. When the mental list of things you don't like overtakes the list of things you like. Or sometimes it's just one thing. But that one insecurity - which was so small at first - has snowballed into something that leaks out of every pore in your body.

I've had a lot of insecurities throughout my life. Most of them justified. There are things that I don't like about myself. I don't stand up for myself - that's a big one. I let people walk all over me - and can't seem to find a voice to tell them to stop. But - I've come to terms with that - and have found some small ways to get around it. Still wish I could change it - but I can't. So I live with it.

Because that's what you learn to do - live with your insecurities. But - what about when you can't. What happens when the one thing that you don't like (more than any other) - is pointed out and shown to the world - time and time again. It festers. It changes. And it becomes something else. It's no longer just a part of you - it becomes who you are. At least in your mind it does. You can't take a breath without thinking about it - without wondering if everyone else sees it everytime they look at you. Because it's all you can see.

I've never been one of those people who thought I was particularly attractive. I mean - I never thought I was butt-ugly or anything. But - I also wasn't beautiful. But - I made it work. And it worked really well. But - somehow it's changed. That small part of me - that thought I wasn't as pretty or skinny as the other girls - well - it's been getting bigger over time. And suddenly it has come out full force. I can't even see why anyone would be interested in me. Ever. Which is posing a problem as of late - because I think that someone might be interested. We've only known each other a week or so - so it's too early to tell most things. But - he calls a lot - and we've seen each other a lot. So - why am I telling myself that he doesn't like me? Why am I about to make myself walk away - before the chance of anything happening?

What I don't understand is why I feel this way. When did I suddenly start believing all those things that I was afraid were true about myself? Is it life experience that does it? Does being dissapointed over and over again - just wear someone down so much - that believing in a happy ending is impossible? Or is it having someone inadvertantly point things out - things that you don't even dare say to yourself - which suddenly seems to make them true? Whatever the reason - how do you change it?

Because I don't want to believe these things. These few small insecurities that I've had - that have somehow grouped together into this huge wound that I can't seem to fix. I want to believe that I will be happy - that someone is out there. To believe that I am beautiful to someone. To believe that I am not so easy to throw away and forget. But - how?

Why can't I do this?

I've been sitting in front of this one blog for over a week now. I keep starting and then deleting. I can't get it right. I have so many ideas and feelings that I want to express, to put out there...but I can't. I can't find the right words to explain my thoughts...I can't hold onto a thought long enough to know how I feel about it. And the entire time I'm thinking, "Get a grip. People deal with this everyday!". But, I've never had this feeling before.

I've never been stretched so thin - and tangled into so many knots - all at once. I've never felt this out of control. If one would look at me within the last week - they would not have any idea of all of this. I've got my pocker face on. My aunt told me the other night - that I have amazed her. That I've been stronger than she ever thought I would be. And I have. To everyone else. On the outside right now - I'm calm, collected, and serving a purpose. I do what I need to do - what anyone else needs me to do. And I don't complain or cry - I just do it. And I've held their hand or head when they break down. The only outward appearance that betrays the face I'm showing to the world - is my eyes. I am so tired inside - and it's starting to show through.

I've reached the point of tired inside - where I physically hurt. And I know it's not only from a lack of sleep. I'm trying so hard - and part of me feels like keeping up my outward face is going to do me in. Because I'm the complete opposite on the inside. All day long I constantly worry. I get nervous when a phone call comes in for me. My cell phone ring stops by heart. I sit at work wishing I could not be here. Trying to hide everything for 8 hours a day - around one of the only people in the world who makes you crack - just by giving you a look. It's exhausting. And then I go home. Not to my home - but straight to my Mother's. I spend my evening doing anything I can to help out. Dinner. Cleaning. Phone Calls. Hugs. Or sitting and getting to talk to my Grandma is short bursts - between her falling asleep in mid-sentance. And then there's the "talks". Everyone crowded in the kitchen - trying to decide what would be best, what we'll do when..., what will happen with...? It's emotionally draining. Not that I would say that - or even show it.

Then, I get to go to my home. I usually try to go to sleep - but I can't seem to stay asleep for more than an hour or hour and a half. My mind is racing with all the realities I've been facing for a week. With all the new issues brought up by the day. By the horrifying fear of what another day might bring. And not the fear of her leaving me, I know that has to happen. But, the fear or her hanging on like this - of it getting worse. I don't know how much worse I can handle. I need to be one of the strong ones. Because some of the ones who are usually strong - they are falling.

I guess I finally put it into some sort of words. I had hoped it would help the tornado inside me - but alas, I'm not sure that it has. At least this way part of it is out. Maybe if I just let a little out at a time - I won't feel the need to explode. Which is what is coming. And that's okay - I'll explode in my own priviate place. And then I'll put my face back on and head back out. Because not everyone can fall apart at once. And right now - it's not my turn.

What can make a day great?

When you think about what people say were the greatest days of their lives, they are usually days where something big happened. A day where their lives were changed, or their perspectives were changed. When I ask the people in my life what they considered a great day, I get the standard answers. Wedding day, day of a child's birth, the day a dream job was achieved, the day that perfect person was met, and others. But - why do great days always have to be big days? As I looked back, some of my most perfect days were ones where nothing important happened - but I felt better about life because of that day.

Some of my great days are days I have spent at home, alone - just being in my own place. Getting to do what I wanted, whether it be reading, watching a favorite movie, or just getting the chance to think my own thoughts. These days seem very rare - because I have usually scheduled myself to be out and about to the point where I sometimes only come home to sleep! But - every so often I'll have a day where I can sit in my PJ's all day if I want - and sometimes that can make a day great in my book!

Others were days where I have had impulsive get together's with friends. Getting together to have a BBQ or watch a football game. On those days, we are always glad to be with each other - because we had the impulsive need for one another. Sometimes we decide to go out for an evening - sing some kareoke - blow off some steam. And other times - we decide to get the kids together and swim for the afternoon - something about watching a child play can be soothing. One such day - included an impromptu trip to the Omaha Zoo - we loaded up all the kids, some food, and took a caravan trip up there and had the most amazing day!

And sometimes, my family can surprise me. We are a family who has always been big on family dinners. And they are usually okay - but just normal family time. But - once in a while, we will have one of those great dinners. The type where everyone gets along. Sometimes it will be because we are playing with the kids in the yard - sometimes it's because the older generations start to reminiscing - and sometimes it's because my generation gets to acting like we did when we were younger, before life came in between us. Sometimes it just all comes together - like the day of my 6 year old cousin's birthday. We had a big dinner - opened presents - and then set off fireworks for hours. All of us sat on the porch - joking around, chasing kids, trying not to start fires! It was perfect.

I love times like that. And they don't have to center around a big change in life - or a big event. Sometimes they just happen. And days like that are what makes me want to keep going. Keep trying. Keep living. Because I hope to have those great big days too - I hope to meet that person, get that perfect job, have a wedding day, give birth to a child. But - until then - I am so thankful to have those great little days in between. Days like those are what makes me remember to be thankful for what I have in life - not just long for what I want. To all those in my life who have given me one of these times to look back on - I thank you with all I have!

When do you say that enough is enough?

My grandmother. She is a great woman. My early childhood years were spent only knowing her through yearly summer visits for a couple of weeks at a time. In which - she was always spoiling and getting us out of trouble with my mother. I didn't really get to know her - to have actual memories of her - until we moved into the house with her and my grandfather. And since then - I've come to love her more than I can imagine. She is the reason that I will go and stand in a Starbucks - just to smell the coffee - even though I hate the taste of it. She is the reason for my love for chocolate pop tarts (she let us eat them for breakfast after my mother went to work), Vienna finger cookies, ring Bologna, and chicken and dumpling. Living with her is the reason that I still love to hear the clicking of an old round dial phone when calling someone. All my Missouri childhood memories are connected to her. Of her letting us (my brother, my two cousins, and I) have the freedom to wander the entire neighborhood - from her house, to my cousins house, to my house (when we got one). Of her making sure that we were home for lunch with my grandfather once he retired - to watch Andy Griffith reruns. Of her being the buffer blocking all the bad things from my parents divorce - so my brother and I wouldn't have to watch. For all these things - I have love her like another parent.
Within the past couple of years - her health has declined. She was a smoker until I entered high school (she quit when the doctor made my grandpa quit). And she has had COPD for a while now - which made her a little slower moving - but didn't diminish the woman I loved. Within the last year though - the doctors have found a growth. It's in her lungs. And everytime they check it every couple of months - it's grown. The doctors have said it's cancer (although my grandma won't say it) - but she is not strong enough to try any treatments that are out there. Not surgery, not radiation, not chemo. So - now we just wait - and watch. Last night she got pretty bad - couldn't catch her breath, even while sitting. So, she was taken to the hospital.
This has happened before - and I've known for a long time that she is not okay. But - I've never had to be party to seeing how bad she can get. I've never actually been there to witness it. Until last night. And it's breaking me.
I caught myself last night - saying my prayers before I fall asleep - praying that my Grandma would be okay. But - I stopped. The thing is - I can pray for her to get better this time - and for her to go home again. But - she'll never be okay again. I know this - but yet why did I pray for it? I know that if she gets better - she will just continue to have these attacks more and more frequently until she goes. And so that's what I wish upon her? I want her to have months or years of pain and fear - before she can finally give up? Why would I want that for her? Because - she'll never be "fine" again. It's because - I'm not ready for her to leave us. I can't pray to have her gone from me! Isn't that wrong? And I can't make myself do it! How do you know when to say, "it's enough - she can't do anymore"? I don't know. I don't know how to pray for what I want - and what's best for her. Just because I don't want her to leave - doesn't mean she should have to suffer.
How do you decide what to pray? How do you accept that someone is going - and stop fighting it? Because - my family brought me up to fight for things. So - how do I give up fighting for someone who means more to me than I do to myself?

When does questioning life become a life in question?

I am an inquisitive person. I always have been. But as I get older, I've noticed that I am coming up with more and more questions. Is this normal? I thought that as people went through life, they achieved some sort of wisdom. Isn't that always what everyone says? That with the years come wisdom? Well, I must be doing something wrong then, because I don't have any more answers that I did at the age of 16 - just more questions. Which leads me here.

I have decided that maybe my questions have answers that I just can't see. Or that I might just have the wrong perspective on certain issues. Whatever the reason might be, maybe by writing them down and putting them out there, I might gain some insight into these subjects - or at the very least - a different outlook. And who knows, maybe my questions will do the same for someone else.

Back to my original question for this blog. I've always been told that questioning life is a good thing, that without doing so we wouldn't move forward. So, if it's a good thing to question life (everywhere we've been and will go - and everything in between), then why does it sometimes weigh me down to the point of drowning? And when is it too much? When I said "a life in question", what I basically mean is kind of a life out of balance. If you question too much, are you missing out on the things you should be enjoying? Since there are some things in life that cannot be changed and must be accepted - when do you just accept and not question? I don't know if everything that happens must have a meaning behind it - or a reason for happening. Don't some things just happen?

Like I said, I've always been inquisitive. But, does that ever become a bad thing? Is there a point where you just have to stop questioning life and start trusting it? I doubt I'll ever completely stop questioning my life and the lives of those around me - but I do hope that one day I won't be drowning under the weight of the questions I hold.