it's all about being okay

Yesterday was my first day back.  First day back in the real world.  I sat in class, took notes and tried not to zone out the entire time. 

A girl I know from previous classes came up to me and said, "How's it going?!  How was your Christmas break?!"  Ummm...how do I even begin to answer that question? 

By the time I left school I had a meltdown in my car.  I then proceeded to pat myself on the back as I realized I only cried twice that day. 

And then it hit me.  I. Have. Changed. So. SO. Much.

Between all my closest friends in high school, they would be able to count on one hand how many times they saw me cry...during all 4 years.  So, here I am, super happy to only cry twice in a school day.  I take a deep breath.  And decide again to be "okay" with where & and who I am.

I read this quote the other day:

Life is all about being okay with plan "B" 

I guess this is plan "B."  Letting go of all the expectations I had for myself.  Being okay with being way more emotional than I used to be.  Being okay with the fact that I have zero motivation.  Being okay that I am not super happy and bubbly like I used to be.  Being okay that I'm not back to "normal" and it's been over a month.  Being okay with not being okay. 

Let's be honest, who wants to be the basket case in the room?  No one.  I for sure don't.  I loved having my junk together and knowing that I was fine.  But all that has changed.  I have changed.  And that has been one of the hardest things for me to come to terms with.  To accept the fact that I am not okay and that I need help.  What is it about us that wants to act like everything is just peachy...even when it isn't?  Why can't we be open, say we are a mess and that we need help?  What's the big deal?  We are all super messed up in our own ways.  So why don't we just be honest, ask for help, and support each other?  

I've learned a lot - more than I probably wanted to - and I am continuing to learn.  Accepting Plan "B" and the way it is shaping my life, figuring out how to navigate life again, humbling myself + asking for help, and relying on God to figure it all out for me.

God + His grace.

God + His embrace.

God + His love.

God + His son.

God + His mercy.

God + His patience.

God + His understanding.

= makes everything seem "okay."

one month

Sitting here watching the tiny snowflakes drift to the ground.  It's a cold, overcast day and I'm reminded of how we used to argue about this kind of weather.  I love it!  I think it's cozy, romantic and peaceful.  Dad would say it's miserable, cold, depressing and he hates it.

And there he is.  Consuming my thoughts again with what used to be.  I'm reminded of the days we would run together (rain or shine).  The times I would fall asleep with my head on his chest.  The long conversations that have shaped me into the person I am today.

The memories flood my mind and I feel it again.  That stab to my heart that I've become accustomed to in these last three weeks.  That feeling that takes my breath away.  That moment I remember I will never have that again.  That moment I'm reminded again that this is my life.  That this is real.  And he isn't here.

Saturday will mark one month since he died.  To say this past month has been the hardest time of my life would be a vast understatement.  There really are no words to describe it.  I have never felt so entirely consumed with sadness.  The man I loved, more than words can describe, is gone.  He is gone.  He is gone.  He is gone.  Sometimes that can't even sink in.  And, at other times, it sinks in and pulls me down with it.

Making myself get out of bed in the morning.  Forcing myself to eat - even if the thought of food made me feel nauseous.  Wanting nothing more than to wrap up in a blanket, get in the fetal position, and sleep for as long as I could.  The thought of talking to anyone seemed daunting.  The thought of logging into my email, let alone responding to one, was inconceivable.

People say that time will help.  Well, it does.  People say time will heal.  Well, I'm still waiting for that.  People say that gaping hole in my heart will never go away.  Well, crap.

What I've learned is this:
-God is all consuming.
-God can pull me out of my darkest times and give me rest.
-Family means more than most anything.
-I love God now, more than ever.
-I am allowed to feel however I feel - and it's okay when that changes 10,000x a day.

Yesterday I responded to three emails.  THREE!  I've been working out.  I don't have to force myself to eat - it comes naturally most of the time.  I respond to most text messages within the same day of receiving them.  And I even met someone for coffee the other day.

These are huge victories for me.  I am proud of them.  It may seem small and insignificant, but that is what I will hold onto.  I will be proud of the progress I have made.  I'm going to take my time and be patient with myself.  I'm going to be okay with telling people I don't want to hang out - I'm not to that victory yet.  I'm going to let myself stay in my PJs all day if that's what I need.  And it's all okay.  

For now, all I need is:
prayer,
love,
and encouragement (letters always help).

Other than that, I just need God to hide me away:

December 15

It was Saturday, December 15th.

I woke up with this song in my head.  I laid on my bed as I listened to it over and over:

The day before, dad's hospice nurse said he has taken a major turn for the worst.  She said lots of things but the two sentence I remember her saying was, "....He has maybe a few days at best.....I'm sorry you have to lose your dad at such a young age..."

We cleaned the house that day.  Preparing for my two brothers and their wives to come in town the next morning.  Pips (dad) was sleeping until around 4pm.

When he woke up that afternoon we knew it wasn't good.  Mom called us into the living room where his portable bed was set up.  She said to us, "I know he is trying to say something but I don't know what he's saying."  There he was: eyes wide, mouth moving with silent clues, hands twitching.  He was trying to say something but no words were coming.  All we could hear was the pain and panic etched across his face.

Hospice was called and they said a nurse would be out there soon.  In the meantime we tried to use whatever intuition we had, along with our knowledge of what Pips liked, to make him comfortable.  Looking into those eyes.  Those eyes that so desperately wanted to talk to me.  Those eyes that I have known so well since the day I took my first breath.  Those eyes that could communicate so much.

The following few hours were the worst of my life.  We sat there holding his hand.  Crying.  Telling him everything is going to be okay.  "Don't be scared, Pips, it's gonna be okay."  Waiting for the nurse.  Calling his siblings, putting them on speaker phone, and listening to them say their tearful goodbye.  Crying.  FaceTiming my brothers that would be boarding a flight in a few hours.  Crying, pacing.  Holding his hand.  Trying to give him something...anything that he might need or want.

An eternity.  It truly felt like an eternity.

Finally the nurse came.  She said his pulse was so weak that she couldn't find it.  She shooed us out of the room so she and mom could change him and re-adjust the way he was laying.  When we came back in she went through a list of signs we could possibly see before he passed.  I drifted in and out of listening as I looked between her concerned face and Pips slow, irregular breathing.  "...I would say he has maybe a few hours left, maybe a day...you will see his breathing get irregular....he won't be able to swallow...give him this medicine under his tongue if this happens...you will hear a deep rattle in his throat..."

Upon leaving she told my mom it would be good if we spent time with him individually.  She said her quiet condolences and left.

Mom said we should take her advice.  All of us had already said what we wanted to say.  But we all agreed it wasn't a bad idea.  So Brady started.  He went in, talked, and came out.  Mom was next.  When she came out she said I should go in.

I sat next to him on his bed.  I held his hand the way I always did.  His hand was cold and clammy.  I talked to him the way we always would talk.  I told him how much I love him.  I talked to him about the things we used to do together.  I kissed his hand.  Kissed his forehead.  Then I told him I wanted to take a picture with him, even though I knew he probably wasn't wanting to.  Just a few pictures on my phone.  One smiling, one kissing his cheek.

I noticed his mouth needed to be wiped off, so I did what I usually did.  I grabbed a tissue, wiped it, and said, "There ya go.  All better."  And that was it.  His eyes got huge, he drew his last breath. And he was gone.

My heart started beating out of control.  I held my hand to his chest.  Waiting for a heart beat, waiting for it to raise and fall with each breath.  But there was nothing.  His eyes were no longer lit up.  Death seemed to cover his body.  And I knew it was no longer my dad laying there.

He was gone.  He was in heaven.  
He was in the glorious presence of The God Almighty.

good grief

Alright, so I promised more honesty would be heading your way.
Well, buckle up, here it comes.

This week I finished off my last week of school.  It was my final time taking classes on campus.  The next two semesters will be spent in elementary schools.  So I worked out in the gym for the last time.  Walked through all those familiar hallways for the last time.  Rode the light rail for the last time (well, for the purpose of going and coming to school - I'll be utilizing my free pass in the months to come).  And man it made me happy.  I feel like I am closing the door on an area of my life that wasn't filled with much joy.

Three years ago, after my first semester of college, dad was diagnosed with cancer.  Dang.  Three years!  I can't believe it has been that long.  But at the same time, it feels like a life time ago.

When I think back over my years at that college - the time spent on that campus - it all feels heavy.  Dark and heavy.  I don't really remember many fun times (although I know there were some).  I actually don't remember much from it.  All of it seems like a blur.  A dark, heavy blur.

But, there are a few things that will be in my memory forever:
Finding out the tumor was cancerous.  Getting told it spread to his lungs.  Trying to decipher the doctor language of the fax that came in, then sitting there on the floor with the words "mass" and "cranium" repeating over and over in my head.  Crying on the roof late at night.  Sleeping in the ICU waiting room.  Speeding to the hospital when his lung collapsed (followed by getting pulled over...).  Holding him as he seizures and thinking, "God, are you gonna let him die in my arms?"

Goodness, so much has happened.  SO much has changed.  I mean, how did it go from having my dad - with everything completely normal - to this?  How did we get to this point?  From walking to barely able to stand.  From having deep conversations about life's problems to barely able to answer a yes or no question.  From being the big, strong, comforting dad to being weak, small, and needing comfort.  From him being consumed with my life to me being consumed with his.

Alright, so I don't tell you all this to make you sad and to feel bad for me.  Truly, that is not the reason I'm writing this.  Mostly, I just need to say this - for my own benefit.  I need to get it all out, think through it, process it, and just....get through it.

I was thinking about what has really encouraged me over the years and I realized this: it's your stories.  There have been a few people who have shared their stories of similar hurt in their lives.  Let me tell you, that made all the difference to me.  All I wanted to know is that someone else was or is feeling the same way I was.  I wanted to know I wasn't insane for feeling the ways I was feeling.  So really, this is just me putting it all out there for people who need to hear this.  I don't know what that really means or what that looks like.  But, my hope is that it will help someone....anyone.  I really believe God gave us each other to "share our burdens" with and I am finally realizing that is exactly what I need.

"Grieving is good.  You've gotta get it out.  It's normal.  It's expected.  And it's no wrong."

Has anyone ever said that?!  I don't know.  If they have, I've never heard it.  But there you have it.  I said it and I hope that helps.

Things are really rough right now with dad and we could all (my whole family) use lots 'o prayers.  So, many thanks and love to you all, and to all a good night.

let's be honest

I have not been good about writing on my blog.
It's true. 
But let's be honest: life has been insane lately.

I've been challenged (by a few different people) to not only write on my blog more, but to really tell my story.  To give the unedited version of my life.  My initial response was to laugh.  I thought, "Umm...no.  That would be no fun to write nor read about."

But really what I was thinking was, "That is scary.  Be completely honest with what has been going on in my life?  No.  That's too close to my heart.  An area that is still too raw to talk about.  Maybe down the road I can share what has been going on.  Maybe I'll heal from this and then I can talk about it."

What I realized is this:

telling your story is part of healing.
When I think I am protecting myself by not confronting what is going on, I am doing myself a disservice.  I have to talk.  I have to work through things.  I have to let people in so that I can let all this out.

I love it when people are completely honest with me.  I encourage it.  I in fact ask people to be 100% straight forward with me.  However, I realized I don't always return the favor.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not going around lying to you all.  Haha, that's not what I mean at all.  What I'm saying is that I realized I have become very good at giving generalized answers.  I'm basically pro at giving a vague answer that does not require me sharing my feelings about what's going on.  I stick with the facts and move along.

But that really doesn't help at all.  Granted, I'm not going to pour out my soul to every person who asks about my day.  That would just be awkward.  But, in the end, we all have emotions.  We all have feelings.  We all have our junk, our hurts, our joys, our fears, and our loves.  And they need to be shared.  That's why we have each other- why we have community, family, and friends. 

Alright, so let's all join hands and talk about our feelings, okay?  Haha just kidding.  That sounds awful.  But in all honesty, this is where I'm at.  This is where I'm going: being honest.  Opening up.  Healing up.  And maybe, in a way, giving up.  Giving up my weird ideas that being open and close with people is scary. 

Sheesh, okay.  That's all the honesty I've got for the night.  More to come, folks, more to come :)

the boundary line

I've been thinking about how God orchestrates our lives.
He opens doors and closes them.
He speaks and he is silent.

God places us in situations we don't want to be in.
He calls us to stay.  He calls us to go.

And ya know what, sometimes it's not what I want.
Nope.
Sometimes, it's exactly what I don't want. 
I found myself wanting to change so much in my life that I have zero control over.

This seems a little silly,
but it all came to a head when I went running the other day:

I was pumped.  I was going to "My View".

Let me explain that a bit...
"My View" is a 3mile loop that is perfection.
It is the closest area to my house that has the best view of the mountains.
Being in the city, it's not always easy to find a place where you can get a really great view of those gorgeous mountains.
But no, My View is awesome.
I can see the gorgeous sunsets and mountains and get my 3 miles in!

I thought it was PERFECT.

Okay, so you get it.  I love it there.
Well, the other day I went out and I saw this:

WHAT THE POOP!?!
Gosh, I was about to jump over that fence and tell them to STOP!
They are building something exactly where my view is.
My mountain view was replaced with a green fence.
The fresh mountain air was being polluted with diesel. 

I was mad.
I turned around and headed down another street, through a little neighborhood.
Once on that new lil road, yellow trees lined the black pavement.
It was dreamy.
I then found a little trail I'd heard of before.  I was a little timid about trying it out - I didn't want to go down a sketch trail and ruin my run!
But oh baby baby...it was freaking amazing.  Huge old trees, dirt path, open fields, a few ponds, and spectacular views of the mountains!

As I ran along, I realized...
wow.  I thought My View was perfect.  I thought that was the best it could get.  But because that was no longer an option, I was able to go somewhere completely new and it was far better than I thought was possible!

I have seen this over and over in my life.

When I think something is great, the door gets shut, I get upset...yet God somehow always gives me something better.

I keep on coming back to this scripture:

"The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;

surely I have a delightful inheritance."

-Psalm 16:6

There are so many boundary lines that I have come across.

Boundaries that are set without my consent.

I've seen this in relationships:
you think this cute lil crush of yours is the end all, be all...

and he isn't.
You think friends will be by your side for forever and ever, amen...
but for whatever reason, life happens, and they aren't there anymore.

Distance that cannot be breached,
lines that can't be crossed.

Things that can't be mended.

I've seen this in situations I've been in:

can't move off to another country because, well...
I need to get things done, focus on adult things...

just stuff that I would rather do without, but I can't.

Lines that are there that I wish wouldn't be.

However, I've come to this conclusion: 

those lines have fallen in pleasent places.

Instead of wondering why they are there and only seeing the...

"What the heck did they do to My View?!"

I am realizing there is more.

God always has more in store for us.

Yes, there are lines.

There are boundaries.

But they are all set up to bless me, to help me.

To protect me.

Sure, if I'm being honest, most of the time I hate those boundary lines.
But, in the end, I realize that God is so much better than that 3mile loop.
He has a wonderland of huge trees, colorful sunsets, crisp mountain air, and infinitely more than I could ever imagine.

Respect the boundary lines,
and God will bless you with a delightful inheritance. 

two options

"Nehemiah said, 

'Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, 

and send some to those who have nothing prepared. 

This day is holy to our Lord. 

Do not grieve, 

for the joy of the Lord is your strength.'"

-Nehemiah 8:10

Man, it's already the middle of October.

Fall is here:

leaves are yellowing and falling to the ground,

the air has a crisp mountain breeze,

and the sun is deep in color.

I LOVE this time of year.

Things 'round the Martin house have been pretty crazy these past few weeks.

Dad got another PET scan and, well...

the results weren't very good.

The doctors gave him two options:

1. Do chemo again (which was highly unrecommended) 

2. Get help from hospice

Option two was chosen, and thus began the stream of nurses in and out of our house.

It was a rough week or so trying to get pain meds figured out.

Extreme waves of pain, nausea, panic attacks, and drowsiness filled each day.

Kinda felt like a whirlwind. A fog. Something you just try to get past.

Things have settled down a bit, now.

Not as many nurses,

and pain is mostly under control.

Like my dad, I realized I had two options.

I could:

1. Grieve (which is highly unrecommended) 

2. Be joyful 

I felt Satan constantly giving me reasons to grieve.

To be sad.

To feel hopeless.

Thankfully, God reminded me that with His JOY I have strength.

And let me tell you...that joy is much better than giving into grief.

It hasn't been a walk in the park, but man, it sure feels better to rely on His strength and be filled with HIS joy than with anything else.  That is really what gets you through.  It can, will, and does get you through even the darkest of times.

Hope God shows you how to pick option 2 this week.

Been working at a school a lot this semester.  Busy is right!

Found my new favorite spot to run:

Remember that bread I was baking?  Yeah, it turned out AMAZING!