Yesterday I work up at 3:30 to vomit. Later that morning, after dropping Small at school, I threw up again. All my pills. All my stability literally went down the toilet.
Today I feel shaking and was afraid to go down stairs. I was also scared to take my medicine, as I might throw it all up. I went to MOPS, I took them there with a cookie that I don’t believe I should eat. I figured, I felt off kilter anyway, why not?
I know that’s irresponsilble and I need to get back on track. I will. I figure an hour on the bike and going to bed an hour or two early might help. I hate this. My arms and feet are shaking. This whole thing sucks. Now that I know what it is to be stable, I crave it. I felt so centered and happy. I don’t know why that was taken from me.
In good news, though, I asked God to show me how generous he was. We talk about a generous God, but I wasn’t seeing it. He responded with new clothes, new paper, and today, the insulated coffee container that I wanted for a long time. It was wonderful. I am very happy, now. And, without even knowing what to expect now, I will keep praying for him to show me his generosity. I would like some new boots, but other than that, I can’ think of one thing that I want right now.
I have to admit something. Mr. M said it first, and it’s correct. Our lives are better here than they were in the Bay Area. We have a more comfortable house that doesn’t feel like it’s going to fall over in the strong wind. We don’t live on a street frequented by motorcycle gangs. Mr. M has a better job. We can walk to school easily. Our church is different than the one back home. The messages are not as challenging, but they are heartfelt. We have great friends there. In fact, we have a lot of great friends and a lot of people have reached out to us. The bad news is that my mom lives with us, but she mostly stays out of the way. It’s nice, though, to have her here. I am suprised to hear myself say that. Only once, in the 1+ year we’ve lived with her, did she take the opportunity to tell me everything that was wrong with me. I just prayed that God would put a hedge of protection around me, and he pretty much did. Some of the things she said still stinged. I just reminded myself that, even if the things she said were true, that didn’t make me less of a woman. So, that went well.
Things have not really improved in Small’s school situation. The teacher name-calls and shames the students. She doesn not appear to respect them and does things like publically call out a five year old, delicate little girl, for having gas. I wish I could warn every parent to be careful not to get her. Maybe I should hand out fliers at the local pre-school. (I’m kidding)
Small is not being a good friend. She is hurting their feelings and poking them with pencils. It’s horrible. She had the neighborboy in tears. I made her call and apologize. She did, but once a little one’s heart is broken, it’s difficult to mend. She’ll hurt these kids and then be suprised that they don’t want to play with her. I wish I could train her/teach her to do otherwise, but I’m not 100% sure (or even 80% sure) that I know how to do that. I was a desperately lonely child, grew in to a very mean pre-teen and then went crazy with mood swings in high school. I don’t want that for her. I’m hoping she does better. I believe Mr. M’s father was mentally ill and we all know I am. Would she inherit this?
If she does, I’m totally cool with it. It will be hard, but I know better how to manage it than most people. (Arrogant, huh?) We could work together to moderate things. If she is open to it. Mostly I want her to be gentle, kind, smart and ambitious. That’s not too much to ask, is it? But I honestly, would be happy if she was just to be gentle. I would prefer God has more for her, but it’s my desire that she loves and cares for others. I’ve seen some of this, like the time she gently wiped away her classmate’s tears. Other times I see none of it at all – like the time she came down stairs to report her friend was crying because Small socked her in the eye. Still to pray. I don’t pray enough for my daughter.