November 24

 America,

Our wedding was nothing at all like I envisioned my wedding day would be. I was terrified to get married. Terrified. So I asked him to stay with me (calm down folks...) the night before. He woke up early and snuck out on the day of our wedding. I still remember him kissing my forehead before he grabbed his dress uniform and walked out. 

Our wedding day was probably how I would define awful. We were married in a mess of a building, by a guy we didn't know, on a day where it not only rained, but also dropped a tornado. We had no real wedding cake (a quick Walmart sheet cake), a dress I hated, no photographer, and on and on. With all of the awful components to the day, there are beautiful things that stand out to me. 

He stayed because I asked him to. There wasn't a debate about it, or an argument, or me begging him to do what I needed him to, he just did it. In that subtle, small moment, he showed me that he would always choose me if he was capable of doing so. He kissed my forehead goodbye in the morning, something he has done every single morning that he has been here to do so. 

I have written, and spoken, many times about the moment with my Dad in the foyer before walking in, but I will do so again. I was having an awful day. I was disappointed and overwhelmed and afraid. All of my sisters had walked in and it was just me and my dad. I was sitting on a bench and he looked me square in the eye and said If you don't want to do this we will walk out of here right now and NO ONE will say anything to you about it. In that single phrase, my 21 year old, scared self, had the safety of her Dad saying that no matter what, he would protect me. He and I had the bond of a lifetime, and I did not have any clue, at the time, what it must have been like for him. In that moment, he must have been recognizing that I was never going to come back. In that foyer, my Daddy was letting me go, and double checking that I was ready to do it. He knew that we would never be close by again, and every close moment would be short lived through vacations or trips or phone calls. I remember saying I want to marry him Dad. I'm just scared. He responded Well then you hold on to me darlin', and I'll get you there. I linked my shaky arm through his strength and down we went. What a gift that I get to hold that memory of my sweet father so close to my heart.

That day, we had no clue what our marriage would walk us through. We had no idea of the enormous heartaches and challenges we would face. We were just two scared young adults who knew without a shadow of a doubt, that we had to face the world together. What a treasure this marriage is to me.

Mess

 America,

Every attempt to write about him, or to talk about him, falls short. It's like trying to write a piece of music that expresses how the ocean moves against the shore. Nothing quite sums it up. 

If you come to me to support the dissolution of your marriage, you're not going to get it. I believe that marriages are made to be hard, heavy, challenging, exhausting. I believe that marriages are like trying to win a race to the top of Mount Everest. They take an astronomical amount of blood, sweat, tears, endurance, and perseverance. They take a multitude of cursing escapades, an abundance of begging God, and words of praise. Marriage is messy and hard and ugly. But it's also more beautiful than the most beautiful sunrise you've ever seen. It's more breathtaking than a full moon as it's low against planet Earth. It's more outstanding than the sight of your favorite person after a long time apart.

My marriage has been as ugly and messy as they can get. There have been more nightmares and hardships than anyone other than him understands. There have been so many screaming matches, silent treatments, and moments where all hope was lost. There were years of darkness that I didn't believe we could crawl out of. He's an asshole and a gentleman and the funniest person I've ever known. He's stubborn beyond what anyone can possibly imagine. He's also the safest place I've ever been. He's the most supportive person on the planet. He is willing to dive in, head first, with me in all of the darkest places I've been. He holds my hand and sits next to me waiting for me to be ready to climb out of the holes I sometimes find myself in. He supports the grief I feel about the struggles we navigate, and he somehow thinks I'm fantastic when most days I'm a centimeter away from being a complete and utter basket case.

There have been so many periods where we didn't like each other at all, where we felt like the Grand Canyon was between us and connection was impossible. We have walked through hell and back and there again. 

Marriage is amazing. I'm forever only his. By God's grace we're still messing it up, and building it back together again. By God's strength we're still fighting to be holding each other's hands, and wrapped around each other at night. There's no one on earth that compares to him. I'm thankful for every war we've fought, every battle we've lost, every moment we've laughed, and every second we've been together and apart. This mess is magical.

Today

 America,

He went to rush out of the minivan. I had driven home with Christmas music blaring in an attempt to feel joy but all I felt was numb to pretty much everything. His leg got caught in the door of the van and he started screaming. I started screaming too as I tried to force the door to move so I could unstick his leg. I screamed as I tried to get him free when the door would not move. I screamed as I picked up his hundred pound body to move it so that he could pull his paw out. That was the trick that worked, and he pulled his leg free. A thorough investigation of his paw (he's fine) had me on the garage floor sobbing. I couldn't stop.

I am tired, America. Tired in a way where you are numb because you just.can't.sleep. Tired like you don't want to talk because it's all so exhausting. Tired, but you have to keep moving forward, handling everything that needs handling, and getting by. Tired when he gets too quiet and you don't know what his brain is doing. Tired when you see him run into something because he sees less and less. Tired when her legs are swollen to twice their size because of a virus. Tired when one more person suggests snake oil treatments, or that the vaccine did this (it didn't) or that we're somehow delusional about what Covid has done. As if we haven't been living it every single day for almost ten months... Tired with every single test my husband is going through, because he just.can't.breathe whether awake or still or moving or anything. Tired, because Covid did this stupid shit to him and I'm over it. Tired, because I don't want to think about organic items, organic menus, broken hearts, broken lungs, broken eyes, broken brains, broken flesh, broken dogs... Tired because my piece of shit sperm donor died and I get to sit in the flesh of his torture, his evil choices, the image of his face that pops in to my head every time I think of the word loser. Tired that when things get hard, people jump ship, or they get quiet. Tired of having to fill some role of strength that I just don't feel.

Today I sat on my couch almost this entire day. I didn't do any errands, any chores, anything productive. I sat still and I allowed myself the space to feel like shit, because some times that's just what one needs to do. 

November

 America,

It's the day after Halloween. Welcome to November. I hope it brings you a heart full of gratitude and thanksgiving. 

I for one, am feeling pretty thankful today. One of my children has been navigating the effects of Covid for over six months. She has something called Covid induced Arthritis. Before Covid, she was driving herself full force towards being a prima ballerina. She had her eyes on New York and she was rapidly advancing in that direction. Her Covid illness was relatively mild. She had no energy, was very weak, but overall it wasn't as intense as it was for some of us. 

Her body did not rebound. Her joints would randomly swell to twice their size. She lost all endurance. She was in an enormous amount of physical pain every time she danced or exerted energy. Overnight, a virus took ballet away from her. 

Doctor's appointments, tests, and physical therapy ensued. The team was honest with her about what they knew: We've seen this in a few kids. We have very little data about the future. The only two patients we have treated have thus far and they have not recovered or made any progress. We drove onward with a positive outlook, and clarity about the type of personality that dances for five hours a day... she was going to work. That's what she thrives on.

Today she got the clearance to begin ballet again. Today we called her instructor and set up private lessons. One day a week, no more than 20 minutes, isn't much for someone who was previously so driven, but it's something! Seeing my daughter's face light up at the prospect of doing what she loves is priceless. 

We honestly believe that Covid showed her that He has better plans for her than what she imagined. We don't know if she'll ever get back to where she was before she got sick, but we do know that this week she gets to begin again. That's pretty darn exciting.

What's something that you're looking forward to beginning again this week?

Happy Monday!