A sad day

 

Loyal, loving and patient-
Three words to describe a best friend- And the perfect words to describe Otis.

If you had asked me a week ago, I would have told you he had a good 2 years left. He went swimming with us, walked around the neighborhood, and even found enough strength to jump into the back of the jeep. But this morning, when he would not get up for even a piece of bacon, I knew that my goodbyes were hours away.

He was just the dog you could not help but love. He followed anyone everywhere, he let kids climb on him without once snarling a tooth. And when he was full of joy he not only waggled his tail, but he waggled his whole body. He was big and lumpy with rotten breath, but his eyes were full of kindness and wisdom.

So, as I lay stretched out with Otis on the floor of the vet's this morning, it was only natural that his eyes were looking at me, giving me the comfort that I needed. He somehow made my goodbye a little easier.

And honestly, I think I am going to miss that rotten breath the most of all.

Go Dog, Go!!!

 

 

 

One of the greatest joys in my life are my dogs. I have 3 of them, all rather large Labrador Retrievers with very different personalities. Their passions include fighting for my attention, marking every nice thing in the house(it is a rather annoying competition they have), chasing birds, and swimming. I try, as often as I can, to take them swimming. About a mile from my house is a small pond, commonly known as "the duck pond". The howling and deep panting begins as we turn the bend. It's like horses at the Kentucky Derby when the gates are open. As soon as I swing open the back of the jeep they charge out with such power and adrenaline! Deacon and Otis look at me longingly in the water with anticipation that I may throw something for them. But Boo, sweet ole Boo, has something completely different in mind . The minute he has charged out he is on a mission- to catch a duck. But nobody flies away. In fact, the geese that are in the grass actually get in the water. You see, I think they like the game. They enjoy taunting Boo. As Boo approaches any of them by about 3 feet or so(close enough to get a little nervous about what to do if he does get one) they dive under the water and appear on the other side of the pond seconds later. Boo is left looking utterly confused, momentarily, until he spots them and begins the chase again . This can on for an hour or more. He is determined that one day he will catch a duck. It doesn't matter that they can fly or dive to their escape every time. Boo's persistence, determination and passion keep him out there.

It is quite a sight to be seen. Unfortunately the policeman drove by the other day and told me that we could not be out there any longer because of the leash law. Leash law, seriously? You expect me to bridle Boo's enthusiasm over your leash law? I suppose I will have to find another pond, with more geese and let them play there until I am stopped again.
It would be awesome if we all had that enthusiasm and persistence for something in life and we went after it, no matter what the outcome. But many times we put the leash on ourselves- because we are scared of failure, or judgement. If we could just GO AFTER IT, whatever IT is, the way Boo goes after those ducks, we would all be happier.

A battle won...

Hi. My name is Cathy and I am an alcoholic. I have been surrounded by alcohol my whole life. It is a relationship I cannot quite kick, though I try, time after time.
The relationship started before I was born. I am quite sure that having a couple drinks did the same thing to my mother that it did for me in the beginning. She and I were a lot alike. She was shy and soft spoken and suffered from self-esteem issues. If she felt anything like I did, those first drinks probably loosened her up a bit and gave her the confidence she had searched her whole life for. Even on her first blind date with my father she had had too much to drink, passed out in Dad's apartment, and got kicked out from Emory the next day for spending the night out of her dormitory(Times have changed since then!). By the time she was a mother of four, she had spiraled out of control. She remained shut off from the rest of the world and managed to have only one significant relationship in her life, Bourbon and Ginger's. She refused to let anyone else remotely close to her. Yet, occasionally, when she was blistering drunk, it would be the time that she would want to tell me how much she loved me, and how sorry she was for being such a bad mom. Alcohol opened her up, allowed her to reveal her feelings, even helped her stretch her arms out to me and give me that rare hug. So, in a sick way, alcohol was my friend before we even met head on.
Oh! But did that first encounter ever come!!! 30 minutes after I took a swig of that warm, brown juice she was my best friend. I was 13. I was painfully shy. Although I appeared to have friends, I felt very alone in the world. You see, with the dysfunction that was going on in my own house, it was nearly impossible to really have friends. You cannot invite them over to your home, you cannot share what is happening, and you are constantly jealous of what "normal" people have. I was isolated. So when that sweet, brown bourbon kicked in, my life, as I knew it, had changed. It comforted me. It took my inhibitions away. I felt confident and secure. As weeks, then months went by, I felt more popular. The high I felt from drinking, the false security it gave me, was enough to get me through the week. My head was held a little higher. My smile a little broader. My friendship circles grew significantly..
Those months turned into years. Drinking was an every weekend event for me from the moment I started. About a year into drinking, the blackouts began. The vomiting was frequent. We laughed about it. We thought we were indestructible( as a parent of an 11 year old, this frightens me to pieces!)But soon, friends began to become concerned. Even my parents began receiving phone calls from friends, worried. (I will add that although I was making poor choices with my behavior, my choice of friendships in High School was a God intervened act!) And by the time I was in college, drinking had LONG past being my friend, and had pushed me on a path that was not simply just poor choices, but it was incredibly dangerous. I will never forget the moment that started my fight against alcohol. I was at a fraternity party, extremely inebriated, when I ran into my older, and very cherished, brother Richard. He looked at me with such disdain, and said, "Cathy, you disgust me. You look and act just like Mom right now." Everything else about that night was a blackout, but running into him ate at me, and continued to for a long time. It did not stop me from drinking that week or month or year, but it remained in the back of my mind and haunted me.
I made the decision to quit drinking at the age of 21, the legal age of drinking. I'd had enough. I had the remarkable support of my father, and such great encouragement from my friends. I have been sober for 20 years on April 28th. I never looked back. Everyday I praise God for sobriety and helping me get off that scary path of danger and self destruction!
And although I had banished her from being my personal demon to fight, the alcohol has found ways of manifesting herself into those that I love, and getting to me that way. She has been involved in the deaths of three family members. She tried REAL hard to come between those I love most dearly in the world, but thankfully failed.
And though I am blessed to have a reprieve from fighting any battles, or having to sit on the sideline and watch, they do say, quite certainly, that Alcoholism is hereditary. She better not mess with my boys! But if she so chooses to, I will do all that I can to equip them.


"Finally, be strong in the Lord and in his strength of His might. Put on the full armor of God, so that you will be able to stand firm against the schemes of the devil."
Ephesians 6:10-11

Series of Cooper's buzz cut

 

 

 

You see his joy in the first picture, and that the hair was not THAT bad.
Brock's mistake really began to sink in when we were in the growing out phase of the hair cut. I know that he is a beautiful boy, and has the spirit like none other, but don't try to tell me how cute he is in the other two-(with the exception of the excitement he had holding the goose)

Even your child's hair can teach you a life lesson

 

When I had Fletcher, sadly, I was in a rush for him to grow up. I couldn't wait for him to say his first words and take his first steps. I was ready for him to be my friend at the age of 18 months. Then,there was Hugh, 19 months younger than Fletch, and suddenly, I was not in much of a hurry. Not for sentimental reasons, but more for sanity reasons- I could not imagine having two toddlers at the same time. Soon enough, two little boys were running in two different directions. That is the way I planned it but I still think to myself, WHAT WAS I THINKING??? And before long, I was pregnant again. I was wiser this time, I waited until Hugh, who was and still is, the demolition man, was 22 months. I was much wiser, hmmph... Which leads me to the point of my entry. Charles Cooper Himan. Look, just look at how cute he is. From birth he was the sweetest, snuggliest, calmest one of them all. He slept the obscene hours that most moms would kill for. He woke up and went to bed happy. I WAS NOT, let me repeat, I WAS NOT ready for him to grown up.
Now look again at Cooper's hair in the skunk picture. Cutie. He was 2 1/2. November 1st, the day after this picture was taken, I was heading to Clemson for a football game against Wake. It was just me and the older two heading out for a Mom's day. Brock assured me that he and Cooper would have a day of adventure themselves and NOT TO WORRY. Now that I think about it, he did have a smirk on his face. I should never have left him alone with the child. On the way back from the game my phone rings and sweet Coop's is on the other line. All he has to say to me is "Mamma, buzz cut" I was not sure I understood him so I said, "sweetie, what did you say?" And again he repeated "mamma, buzz cut". So I giggled and thought, Oh good, Brock must have taken Cooper to get his hair cut. Poor thing thinks he got a buzz, because the OLDER MORE MATURE, NOT BABIES ANYMORE, have them! He wants to be just like them.

Before our renovation there was a huge window in the kitchen and the boys would sit there and wait for one of us to pull up, waving enthusiastically when we finally did. Boy I miss that enthusiasm. Come to think of it, I miss the window too! Sure enough, there was a boy there, waving his arms high in the air, with sheer joy in his heart. He looked 2 1/2 to me, he had Cooper's beautiful eyes and sweet smile, but he had no hair to speak of. In sync, both the older boys screamed "COOL MOM, COOPER GOT A BUZZ CUT". And at the same time Cooper is running to me so proud "MOMMY!! BUZZ CUT!! MOMMY BUZZ CUT!!" I swooped him up in my arms, kissed him all over and told him "Honey, I love it". Don't worry, my fingers were crossed. Over his shoulders I am looking for Brock, who usually greets me at the door as well. Interesting that he chose not to today. He has, in a flash, taken the baby out of my boy. I am surprised that Cooper could not feel the steam coming out of my ears. After all the hoopla is over and the big brothers stopped doting on him, I made my journey inside the house, ready to pounce. I was ready for an argument. Arguments are rare around the house but they do happen. Brock must have been the captain of the national winning debate team in high school, normally getting his point across so quickly and affectively that I am left wondering why I chose to argue anyhow. As he made his way down the stairs I could not believe what I saw. There was Brock, in total defeat. It was impossible to be mad. He looked down at me with sorrowful eyes and asked, "it's not that bad is it?". And again, with my fingers crossed, I hugged him and said, "no honey, it's not that bad."

You see what I realized was that Brock's feelings were so different than mine. He was done having babies. He was ready for his foursome to begin. He was ready to fish as a family. He was wanting Cooper to grow up faster. And in some crazy way, cutting his hair would get him there. Just as leaving his hair the way it was, or snuggling with him more would keep him a baby and keep me young. At six he is a unique child of God's, and I am enjoying him day by day. And yes, he still has a buzz cut.

What a difference a year makes

One year ago today, my life was at the brink of disaster. Noone would have ever guessed I was there, but internally I was near the boiling point. I had become a full time professional at holding my emotions in, putting on a big bright smile and letting everyone know how great I was. Amazing even. From an early age I was trained to do that. I could never expose the secrets of the family, so I had to overcompensate the pains I was feeling with smiles. The secrets kept getting bigger and the smiles kept getting broader. I never stopped.

My oldest brother David died tragically in September of 2008. I do think that is what sent me over the edge. I had dealt with other significant losses and tramautic events, but this little ole body could not take any more. For months I tried to smile my pain away and pretend as if everything was fine and dandy in Cathy's world. Secretly, all I wanted to do is crawl in my bed and wish the time away. I was wishing away the precious time I had with the boys and Brock. It made no sense to me as to why I felt the way I did. I was physically healthy, had 3 terrific boys and an incredibly supportive husband. I live in an amazing town and neighborhood, was kept warm at night and sheltered by a nice home. How dare I complain of discontent! For months I kept my mouth shut and continued going through lifes motions, aimlessly and exhausted. And sore. My efforts at trying to keep up the happy face had manifested into severe neck and back pain. I had reached a point that hiding it was no longer an option. My emotional and physical pain was beginning to seethe out of every pore. I could not breathe.

I had asked God for help before, but only halfheartedly. I am not sure I even wanted to change. I felt too lazy to change. It takes a lot of work to break old habits and live life differently. Exactly a year ago, I got on my kness and prayed to God. I prayed for strength. I prayed for change. I prayed for peace. I cried and I begged. This time I prayed with all my heart, not just half of it. Then I carried on with the next couple days, still carrying the burden of my pain right on top of my shoulders. It was not until, in the midst of an argument the following night, that I was aware God had heard me. Brock stopped short in our "discussion" and very tenderly asked me if I needed to go somewhere to deal with my depression. I replied, very calmly and matter of fact like, "yes". At that point I knew that I needed to separate myself from Brock and the boys for a certain amount of time and just focus on myself. I was unable to do it with the constant demands that the home brought me. And I wanted to heal, not just partially, but all the way.

The next day may be one of the scariest days of my life. Driving to the facility knowing the pain the separation from the family was going to bring me, and NOT knowing what lie ahead in the next 30 days filled me with a gut wrenching fear. I wanted to take back that "yes", and go back to the way it was, because at least I was comfortable there. When the boys and Brock kissed me goodbye at 2:00 in the room of my temporary home, I curled up into a fetal posistion and stayed there, all night long. It was not until the next morning that I had my next conversation with God. It went something like this... "Well, I am here, I cannot turn back, help me give it all I got." So at that moment, I got up, got dressed and opened the door to my new life.

I am so grateful to Brookhaven and the women there who helped me get through some pretty serious stuff. There was so much to work through, so much pain to rehash, but the more I let go, the lighter the load on my shoulders was. My pain started to go away. I could breathe.

So here I am, a year later. I am still breathing, my neck and back are still burden free and most importantly, I am with the family. I mean REALLY with them, and there is no other place I would rather be. There is no doubt that the challenges were great at times and will continue to be. But to be able to look someone in the eye and tell them how great I am, and really mean it, far and away outweighs the challenges.

Lucky me

I am going to begin my blogging experience just by talking little about myself. I am 41 years old, although my mind still thinks I am in my early 20's- My body DEFINITELY knows I am in my 40's. I have 3 great boys, Fletcher,11, Hugh,9, and Cooper,6. They have their own unique qualities but their common ground is their passion for sports, their joy in friends and their love for each other. They bring such joy and amazement to my life.

Brock is my husband of 12 years. He is my best friend. Being so different in personalities we are a perfect mesh. He is the outgoing one, I am the introvert. He is organized and methodical, I am the definition of CHAOS. 5:00 would be his ideal time to start his day, and I have to be pulled out of bed at 6:45 to wake the boys up. We are Yen and yang. I consider it close to perfection( there are flaws of course, and fights, and eye rolls, but we we are close to perfection)

I am so fortunate to have such a wonderful life. But there has been darkness. Long periods of darkness in my years that I could not see my fortunes. I have to work, and pray on a regular basis to obtain my happiness. But for today, I am happy. Really happy.