Why I blog…

Since it’s been over a year that  started this blog, I’ve been thinking about the reasons that I blog. Here they are, in no particular order:

• Accountability. It’s another way to be honest with myself and try and stay on top of this journey that I am on. Some days it’s easy, some days it’s impossibly hard.
• It’s a constant in my crazy life. It’s always there when I need to vent or even go back and read a post that was maybe a defining moment.
• I love to write. I wish I had more time to do it.
• To share a side of me that people may not know.
• To share things that I love, such as foods, books, products, and more.
• To document my life and the events in it.
• Motivation. When I write a post about a struggle I’m having and go back and read it days, weeks, or months later, I find it motivational to see how I overcame it.
• To vent. There are some days I just need to get something out and what better way to get it out than writing it.
• To remember. There is always something going on and we are such a big family. I like to remember special events and other things that we do or go through. Happy, sad, defining, and more. All moments are important and each one adds up to my life.
• To {hopefully} inspire others. I follow several blogs and they inspire me. I would love to know that I inspire others in the same way.

When I first started my blog, I imagined it being mostly weight-loss related, although my very first post pretty much said it could be about anything. It was also just two months after losing my dad and I knew it would be another outlet in dealing with that and it has helped. It’s touched lightly on our infertily issues and is as light as posting about our crazy dogs. You can read my very first blog post here http://thiscrazylifeofmine2012.wordpress.com/2011/02/13/my-very-first-blog/

I enjoy my blog and hope that my readers enjoy it as much I do. I love it when a post inspires readers to comment and let me know their thoughts. But ultimately my blog is for ME.

Sensory Overload

For the last 15 months, I have avoided the hospital where my dad passed away. I’ve had to drive past it many times, although I would even try to avoid that. One time I intentionally drove through the parking lot because I was compelled to do so. I had hoped that I would not ever have to go back inside anytime soon.

Today was the day. My mom is having surgery next week and had to go in for pre-op. I went with her so she wouldn’t have to go alone. My need for her to not be alone outweighed the trepidation that I felt. In fact, I am writing this as I sit in the waiting room and wait for her.

When you spend 12 hours a day or more over a month’s time in a place, there are things you get used to. You learn your way around, you recognize and get to know people, you get used to the sterile smell of the halls and the rooms, the sounds, seeing patients on gurneys, and more.

Neither one of us wanted to walk in there to begin with, and I wasn’t sure what I dreaded most. We had to enter near the emergency room which we knew all too well. Passing the row of parked ambulances brought back a flood of memories. But it wasn’t until we walked in that I realized what would hit me the most. And it was the smell. That sterile smell that I had become accustomed to, and the smell of the soap in the bathroom. To me, sense of smell is very powerful and can be overwhelming, especially in situations like this. These might seem like trivial thoughts to have but when you relate them to the last time you saw someone, it is HUGE.

The last time we were here, we said goodbye to Daddy – and physically left him here. It is one of many thoughts I had that day. I knew it was just his body in that room when we left, and his spirit and all that we loved about him left with us and still remains with us. But at that moment, it felt like we were leaving him, and I hated that.

So to walk back into the same building today that we last saw him in 15 months ago was hard.

Next week we will ALL, I hope, be here as a family as my mom has surgery. No one is alone in this family despite fear, trepidation, and more. The hospital is a great one and everyone here is very kind and patient-oriented. All of this outweighs the bad parts of the walls, rooms, floors, and more that make up the hospital that holds the many memories of pain, loss, and grief we all felt.

I am glad I came with her today, not only to support her, but to get beyond the apprehension of going. The next time we are here, I can focus more on my mom, her surgery, and her recovery. All will be fine.

Running through the tears…

I had a good walk/run today despite the unbelievable humidity. But in typical fashion, the run part of my efforts turned into me into a blubbering, teary-eyed mess. I am not sure why, but it’s more common than not for me to cry when I run. I am not a pretty runner or even a good runner, but it’s certainly not physical pain prompting my tears.

Between the endorphins that are kicking and just the release I feel in being outside and taking time for myself, I start really thinking about my dad, and on come the tears.

I miss my dad and wish so much that I could talk to him and see him and hug him. I think of him many times, every day, but I am so busy that those thoughts and memories, sadly, tend to get pushed aside in the craziness of my day. But when I am running and I have the miracle of an off-switch for the work stress and more that floods my mind daily, the thoughts of my dad fill my heart and mind.

I am okay with the tears and the thoughts I have of him durning my run. But it sure makes it tricky to see some times. By the time I am done, I am totally d-o-n-e. Worn out and exhausted. I have always said that walking is my therapy and good for my mental health, and for the depression tendencies I naturally have. I believe that even more after I’ve had a good cry, running through the park. I need that time that I take for myself, tears, thoughts of my dad, and all.

Chapter 1…

I’m going to write a book. It will be a labor of love. It will be about my dad.

He told me he wanted to write a book about his life, that someone out there might be interested in it. I excitedly offered to help him as I have always wanted to write a book and he was so happy, he wanted me to help.

Two days after he asked me to help him write a book, he ended up in ICU. I kept telling him he needed to get better, we had a book to write. The day we said goodbye to him, I told him I was going to write his book. And I will.

His life story is an amazing one. In a wheelchair for almost 56 years, married for 43 years, father of 4, grandfather to 3. He was an inspiration to anyone who met him and I have almost 39 years of memories made with him. I will write about how hard he worked to support his family, how he never gave up, and would never take no for an answer. I will write about the many places he lived, and the stories he passed on to me. I will also write about how my mom dedicated her life to him and was a huge part of him living so long and getting so far in life. I will write it with a heart full of love and it will be dedicated to my dad.