That Was Weird.

This is Brandy and I in High School. We are 16, it's Spring Break. We're at her new house in Charlotte.

Today I went into a high school. With high school students milling about. I had to check in with a security guard. I had a yellow visitors tag with my picture printed. I proceeded to walk to the main office. I was having an out of body experience. I haven't been around that many high schoolers since I was in high school. Since I was that girl in the picture. It was surreal. I felt small, like a freshman next to a senior on the first day of school. The girls all seemed so put together, their hair straighten or perfectly curled. Their makeup, flawless. Their outfits out the pictures in magazines. We DID NOT look like that in high school. To be honest, this picture above is a very very nice one. Mostly, I think I looked a mess. I don't remember taking much time before school to get ready. I certainly didn't look like I stepped out of Glamour magazine. Then there were the boys, all shaggy haired and rough housing. I had to jump to the side to avoid them. They seemed the same as when I was in school.

I accidentally walked into the counselors office instead of the main office. When I say office, I mean giant room with lots of little rooms. At least four counselors doors shut  "in session" the one open door hosted a young girl in tears "I'm not a whore, I've never done anything, yet they always call me a whore." I heard this as I walked past. My heart broke for her. For most of those girls actually. Their school starts at 7:40am, they are up, ready to go, and that glammed by 7:40am!

Somewhere in this ramble of a blog is meaning. I know it's there. Girls have way to much pressure put on them. They look like runway models while the teenage boys, look like teenage boys. There's girls crying for being called a whore. Somewhere, somehow, some time soon, we've got to reclaim our girls. The meanness starts so young, and the damage lasts too long. There's nothing wrong with wanting to look your best, but the odd thing was, they all looked the same. Same clothes, same straight hair, same eyeliner, similar clothing, similar purses, all huddled in similar looking groups.

The pressure these girls have on them, where is it coming from? From TV? From each other? Will they, in 13 years, visit a high school and think the same thing? Will they remember crying in an office after being called a whore? Will they remember breaking the heart of a girl by calling her a whore? Will they remember the early mornings to get themselves just so? Or will the hurt disappear and becoming meaningless? Will they only remember the good times and the ones that mattered? Will they be lucky enough to have that one best friend "since 10th grade"? What will the remember? What will stay with them? What will be forgotten and what will be ingrained?

Currently.

Listening: A variety of Mandisa and Jason Mraz!

Eating:  Yummy delicious homemade Wonton Soup

Drinking:  Water.  Lots and lots of water.

Wearing:  Jammies!

Feeling:  Better. I really am hopeful that this new medicine is going to put me back in charge of my life.

 

Weather:  Super sunny and super cold.

Wanting:  Carlee's adoption to proceed quickly so we'll be in charge of her medical care. And a trip to Target.

Needing:  Not much.

Thinking:  That I need to clean really really well before my nieces invade my house this weekend!

Enjoying:  Hearing Johnny and Shane playing Nascar and the semi-clean house :)

These Days.

These days are unique. I am overwhelmed. The pure joy of knowing that Matthew is ours, always and forever and I never have to fear losing him again. The anticipation that Carlee will soon be our daughter. The unknown of what her life will bring. The hope, the happy hope of seeing her sign "more". She will be able to communicate with us! My nieces are finally safe and away from external forces that did not keep them safe or happy. My brother is doing well. There are so many emotions flying through my brain. So I was smart and decided now would be the best time to switch anxiety medicines. Not the best decision I've ever made. Some days are great, and I feel like I am getting used to the new meds and doing well. The next I'm down and out and crying for no reason all day long and freaking out my family.

I'm starting to try to listen to my body more. I've stopped watching shows I love because I know they make me have crazy dreams and I think on them all day. I'm more honest with people about what is happening so I don't always have to fake it with a smile. I'm praying this medicine will adjust soon and I can go back to feeling like myself. I wish this anxiety would  go away as quickly as it came on. I never had any anxiety before and then BOOM one week of craziness that led me to the ER and three different doctors, because I knew something had to be wrong. Sometimes it's hard to remember that it really is all in my head. I mean, I know I'm not crazy. But the symptoms are just symptoms. My brain is making the hot flashes, the cold chills, the intense nausea, and the rapid thought process. My brain is making physical responses, and it's really annoying to be betrayed by my own brain.

I feel guilty about it. That I'm taking away from my family. The days were I don't want to leave the house for fear of getting sick somewhere else. The nights where I want my husband to stay home with me instead of hanging out with his friends because I'm afraid to be alone. Having to run upstairs while my best friend is here because I just couldn't deal anymore. I try to hang on. I know. I know. If I had a disease I wouldn't feel guilty about asking for help. But because this is "all in my head" I feel guilty. I think about women in third world countries. Women who might be killed or raped just collecting fire wood or finding clean water. Women who waste away from Aids and know they are leaving their children as orphans. Women who are just young girls caring for their families. Women who put their babies to bed hungry, thirsty, and cold. And I wonder, what right in the world I have to complain about some nausea and hot flashes. These women don't have access to Zoloft or Xanax. They know nothing about paying a therapist to listen to you. What do they do?  I think about the foster moms I know who are having to turn over their babies to family members that they know aren't right. My friends who have seen horrors of Eastern Europe's orphanages and brought home 15 pound 15 year old girls. Children in conditions that we wouldn't put our worst criminals in. Who am I to complain?

I have a warm safe home that I can afford. I have a full pantry and fridge. I can turn my heat on and up to keep my family warm and turn on A/C to keep up cool in the winter. I can buy clothes and shoes for the comfort. I have a house overflowing with nicknacks and gizmos. I have a husband who has never laid a hand on me, and I know would die to keep me and our children safe. I have both my parents, married after 31 years, and in fairly good health. I have friends who run over Saltines and babysit my kids. Friends who listen to my ramblings during an attack. I am so blessed.  I look at my life through third world eyes and wonder what right I have to complain.

There are my thought processes right now. I can't wait until I can get back into my counselors office. I fear for her, at my last appointment I was doing amazing. She's in for a doozey of an appointment.

My Son---gotcha day.

So after being told "any day now" I was jumping every. single. time. the phone would ring, for three days. My husband was calling just to fake me out. So when I hung up with him and the phone rang right away, I thought it was him being silly. Then I glanced at the caller ID. It was our lawyer. My heart stopped and then broke into a rapid sprint. 'Helllooo' and she said "I'm speaking to Matthew's mommy" and I screamed. I scared the kids. I thanked her a hundred times. I hung up and called Johnny. I screamed "Matthew's adopted" and though he didn't understand my shrieking, he knew what I was saying, nothing else could have made me that excited. Then with trembling hands I dialed my mom. She didn't answer. I dialed again, someone was already on the other line. Very loudly I said "Matthew's adoption is done, I have to call my mom" and hung up on my poor friend. Called my mom again. No answer. I was yelling "ANSWER THE PHONE". Finally she answered. She had been out to eat with her friend. So I shouted the same news. She started to cry. I had to much adrealine to cry just then. Next call was to my best friend. She didn't answer. I text "answer the phone" I called her husband, it went to voice mail. Come on people, biggest news ever and no one will answer their *^*I(&y phones. Finally got a hold of her and let her know. THEN, I was able to blast it all over facebook. His name and his pictures. I had 70 notifications within 5 minutes. My sweet boy is all ours, always and forever! From the moment the van door slid open and I heard his pathetic little cry at 1:30am, I knew he was mine. For a moment it didn't seem I was right, but God made it so and God made him our son. Forever. Matthew John-Daniel Anderson. "Gift from God" "God is Gracious" "God is my Judge" Perfect fit for him!

FINAL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 Yesterday afternoon on February 7, 2013 at 3:55pm our foster son became our FOREVER SON! Matthew John-Daniel Anderson is our son always and forever. It was a good day!

Ramblings.

I want to scream. Seriously. There is all this amazing, miraculous, long awaited great news happening. Like over the moon. We've been waiting for 2 years for this, 3.5 years since the start of our foster care journey. Today we signed the last sheets of paper before the judge signs off and makes M ours forever. Really good stuff.

And yet. Anxiety seems to be trying it's best to rob me of my happiness. About two weeks ago my doctor and I decided to switch from Paxil to Zoloft. I was sick of the weight gain with Paxil. Nothing I did was helping the weight come off. So we started this regime of lowering Paxil, and then adding in Zoloft. I've read just horror stories of coming off Paxil. I told my doctor (she's my friend also) that I was doing wonderfully. That night, I had the worst anxiety attack that I've had in nearly six months. The next day it was not as bad, but still yucky. So we decided to add in more Zoloft and less Paxil. I was doing okay. Not great, but okay.

During this week, we had some bad news. Our sweet girl was diagnosed with a rare seizure disorder and all that crud that comes with that news. Yucky news. So now I'm changing medicines which has enough side effects. Then I got this icky news from the doctors.

Then we went to court. I hate hate hate court. I mean, like seriously. Not much good has come from me going to court. In the two hearings I had to take five kids to sitters all of the town. Both of these cases have been continued. OH! All that nervousness for nothing, getting up insanely early, driving kids to sitters, all for nothing. I have a limited pool of sitters, so I hated "wasting" them for no good reason. So we had court, so once again, up too early, kids to my amazing friends who never give up on court, and the pure nervousness walking into the courtroom. This time court happened. I "met" Carlee's parents for the first time in ten months. They didn't look at me, the were very emotionless. It went well for us, but was so sad.

All this is going on. Then on the same day as court we got news that M's paperwork was done. In fact, today we just signed the last bit of paperwork to make his adoption official. We just have to wait for a judge to sign the final order.

Emotion OVERLOAD. There's been crappy cruddy news, overly joyous news, and changing medicines. Anyone want to guess what my brain is doing. Having a bratty two year old fit, that's what. I've more anxiety attacks since I first starting having them. I'm fairly good at controlling my breathing (thanks to tips from friends) and I can mostly control the 'negative self talk' that comes with anxiety. However, the physical crapola isn't so easy to get around. Hot flashes that literally raise my body temperature and make me sweat, when those stop I'm so cold that I need piles of blankets. Then there's the nausea and vomiting. Sometimes it's 20 minutes, sometimes it's hours. Mostly at night, thankfully. I've not had many attacks outside of the house, I've been very lucky in that aspect. However, it does make me not want to leave the house for a lot of things. But only during attacks and the for a bit after that. Right now, it's been nearly two weeks of gunk. Plain and simple: this sucks.

I realize there are so many logical reasons this is happening right now. I really do 'get it' I have a lot of emotions all at once, I'm switching medicines which is actually changing the chemicals in my body. I just don't care anymore. I want it to stop. I want to stop crying like a leaky hose, I want to stop having hot flashes like a woman in menopause, I want to stop throwing up like I have the flu. Most of all I want to be able to look back at this amazing time and remember the happiness and not the anxiety and all the other crud. And I wouldn't mind a good nights sleep!

Well that's that. If you've stuck around, I appreciate it. If you have any advice, I'd take that too. I do have some beautiful friends who give me great encouragement. If you've dealt or are dealing with, please share what works for you.

Thanks for listening to my crazy. It helps to get it all out of my head, and I didn't feel like getting off the couch to find my journal to write in.

Hope.

I have an overwhelming sense of hope today. I don't know why, nothing has changed. I've been having a hard time with my anxiety attacks while switching medicines. I've had dear friends write very encouraging words and Bible verses. I've started a new personal study on Joy. In this study I came across Psalm 27: 13-14 "I am still confident of this: I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord."

I found that particular verse when M first came to us. His life and that of his siblings was so very ugly, scarred, and scary. I found much comfort in that verse. There was so much good that has come out of that ugly home. One of the best, of course, is that M is here with us and will have an open adoption with his family. Any day now. And that there where I am finding strength in that verse once again. I will see the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living. Be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. I'm certain that on this side of heaven, I won't know why it's taken so long, or why the long wait once things seemed so ready to happen. There is a reason and I will take heart and wait on the Lord. For when M joins our family and I can shout it from the rooftops, it will be in the perfect timing of God!

All that, I believe. However, if you wish to pray with me that a few sheets of paper make their way to our lawyer so we can sign, that would be great. Prayer can't hurt after all. :)

As for my Carlee. We have good news waiting around the corner, or more precisely on Thursday. Her nuero doctors are hopeful to get her into a study to help her condition. I am being firm in the fact that she needs to be ours soon, so we'll have control over her medical care instead of having to go through social services and medicaid. We have such hope for our girl. 

I've decided to stop stressing so much about our school work, it gets done. I still have a public school mentality even after 6 years of homeschooling, I feel like a failure if we haven't finished every subject that day. Well, here's to a new way. As I type Shane is doing his reading, on his own, after a long struggle. Jackson has started his first batch of multiplication and seems to have taken to it well. And Sam, is starting a whole new unit of stuff. It will delightful. :)