Home

Home is where the heart is.  Home is where the Mom is.  Home is where you go when you are sick and tired of being nice.

While reading tonight's post, please click on the video and let it play.  Read the post.  Then listen to the song again and really listen to the lyrics.

As I've blogged about before and those of you who know me, there was a period of time in 2008 (90 days was the period of time--90 days exactly) in which I was homeless.  The term is homeless, but the truth is--I was also houseless. 

There are many sayings about what home is, as the first line of this post indicates.  The last one is a quote that my parents have had on their fridge since I was in high school.  Unfortunately, it is a sad truth.  We behave worse at home than anywhere else.  Anyone with children can attest to the fact that their children do just that.  But even as adults, we do the same.  We treat people at home worse than we would ever treat any others.  Not because we dislike those people--but for some reason, we decide to take liberties and treat them less than others--even though they mean more to us than any others.

Back to 2008--the devastating floods came through--my house was nailed--and I lived in the spare bedroom of my good friends Mike and Amy.  At the time, I really wasn't that bothered by it--we made out okay when our house got hit--we didn't lose too much, and we were renters so we weren't dealing with the responsibility of fixing a house.  When we finally got settled into the VERY upscale "Waverly Mobile Home Park" after those 90 days and some drama from a stupid wench at work, the reality hit:  I WAS HOMELESS.  I had spent 90 days in a borrowed location.  I had lived out of a laundry basket with 5 outfits.  And I just witnessed and lived through the 2nd largest natural disaster in recorded US history (Katrina was 1st, of course).

But there is a difference between a house and a home. 

A house is 4 walls and a roof.  I had lost one of those--though I was in a temporary one now. 

And for me--a home is an internal place of contentedness.  Feeling rooted.  Feeling strong.  Feeling loved and a sense of belonging.

Being houseless sucks--don't get me wrong--sofa surfing and hoping people will take you in (Thanks Michael George & Amy---and Amy "Red") is an exhausting plight to endure. 

Being homeless is devastating.  Looking inside you and feeling empty, even though you are surrounded by a plethora of people and "stuff."  Being asked simple questions and all you can answer is "I don't know" because you feel incapable of making a decision.  Feeling absolutely no sense of control as your world is whirling around you in an emotional tornado. 

I've been called controlling a million times--and more so recently.  The irony is--I have been feeling absolutely no control.  And in hindsight, I haven't felt it in a while.  Or "in a minute," as they say in the hood.

Listen to the song again--the lyrics are amazing.  A good friend of mine introduced me to it in college and it became a regular theme song for me.  When I'm down, as I have been lately, I play it to remind me that when my home is empty--or messy--

Take me-make me what you want me to be, that's all I'm asking, all I'm asking.

Welcome to this heart of mine, buried under prideful vines. 
Grown to hide the mess I've made inside of me, come decorate, Lord.
And walk open up the creaking door and walk upon the dusty floor.
Scrape away the guilty stains until no sin or shame remain.
Spread your love upon the walls and occupy the empty halls until the man I am has faded, no more doors are barricaded.

Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome home. 

Take a seat, pull up a chair.  Forgive me for the disrepair.
Souvenirs from floor to ceiling, gathered all my search for meaning. 
Every closet's filled with clutter, messes yet to be discovered.
I'm overwhelmed, I understand I can't make this place all that you can.

Come  inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome....

I took this space that you placed in me.  Redecorated in shades of green.
And I made sure every door stayed locked, every window blocked--and still you knocked.

Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own...

Come inside this heart of mine--its not my own--make it home.
Come and take this heart and make it all your own.
Welcome home....

I am working on finding my way back home again.

XO, La

Color confusion

The difference between setting a boundary in a healthy way and manipulating is: when we set a boundary we let go of the outcome. ~Robert Burney

In attempting to embrace gray, there are so many confusing forks in the road. 

One of my favorite populations to work with is adolescent sex offenders.  Many find this very confusing, but to me it is obvious:  this is an easy group to work with because it is obvious that their behaviors are NEVER acceptable.  Take another type of child on my caseload--an angry one who gets aggressive.  We can teach him that hitting people is wrong.  But let's be honest, there are situations we have all faced that we would hit someone.  If someone hits our loved ones, we are going to step in and defend them.  Most of us would defend ourselves if hit.  So we reinforce a message to this angry boy that we know ourselves--there is gray.  But sexual boundaries are black and white--and as you well know, black and white is my comfort zone.  Thus, this population, in my opinion, is the easiest to work with because there is no gray.

I set boundaries for a living.  I work with parents on recognizing the cycles in their homes that they do not like and help them recognize their role of setting boundaries to interrupt these cycles.  Boundaries are black and white.

How do I embrace gray while realizing that I have let boundaries go? 

Why is it when I recognize what I need, I feel selfish because others may not like my boundaries?

When faced with it already today, I had the internal battle.  Do I forgo what I need to care for myself because I want to be with someone today?  Or do I set the boundary and realize that in return, I will lose out on that person today--potentially forever because she thinks I'm being hateful?

Today is my time to care for myself.  I can only do what I can do.  I can only be what I can be.  And have to have hope that in the end, something will turn out.  I have to reclaim myself.  I have to find myself.  I have to let go of the outcome of the boundary I'm setting because the outcome I'm creating for myself--not for others--is that I am doing what I know I need to care for myself.

I want to find myself.  And I want to be back in my home as it once was.  Can both concepts exist?

I don't know if what I'm doing is right, but I have to be real with myself and know what I can handle.

A little bit

If faced in the right direction, all we have to do is keep on walking.  -Buddhist saying

I love walking through Hallmark.  I am certain that if given a gift card, I would walk out with a HUGE LOAD of greeting cards.  I may forget to send you a birthday card on your birthday--but I may send you a birthday card on a completely different day because I find a card that just fits you.  Unfortunately, I can't keep up with the costs of the Hallmark Card.  And while I love them--some are so funny, some are so kind--nothing beats giving someone your own words, rather than someone else's.  With that in mind, consider this outlet something to substitute for my Hallmark addiction.

I spent most of the last 26 days in tears and worrying.  Today, I knew I would do it different.  I got some assignments done and I got a little misty eyed at a couple points--but they were good ones.  And in the end, I recalled my commitment to caring for myself.  This included a pedicure, allowing dinner to be made for me, and preparing for a night of peaceful rest with the rain falling outside.

Probably one of the best things I did for myself today was allowing myself to be humbled.  I was asked to apologize to somebody--when I had not done wrong.  So let me play for you 2 scenarios:
1)  how I wanted to respond:  "are you freaking kidding me?  Me, apologize?!  Wait--you remember how this all went down right--that this is what she did and I am not putting up with that.  Apologize?  Yeah--I'll tell her I'm sorry she got busted!"
2)  my outward response: I don't know if I can do that.

On the upside, I display a tremendous amount of self-restraint at most times.

I reminded myself that on this road to rediscovery--I am going to be challenged to do things differently.  In order to not fall into patterns again, I'm going to have to change it up.

I gathered my thoughts. 

Took a deep breath.  And another.  And a 3rd.  12th.  27th. 

And I decided I could do it.

It was not a simple apology.  It was a 20 minute discussion.  And throughout it, I apologized.  Several times. And so did she.  I explained my intentions.  She explained hers.  And we moved along.

I can't say it was easy--but nothing worth fighting for ever is, right? 

The destinations that are the hardest have the journeys that are the most memorable.

Time to fall asleep.  And rest as long as I can--without an alarm.

This Hallmark card would simply say: 

I'm sorry.  I promise to screw up again in the future and make it up to you.  And I hope you'll do the same.  Let's screw up together so we can learn to do it less.

Love always,
La

I won't give up....

When I look into your eyes, it is like watching the night sky or a beautiful sunrise--there's so much they hold.
And just like them old stars, I see that you've come so far to be right where you are--how old is your soul?

I won't give up on us even if the skies get rough.  I'm giving you all my love and still looking up.

And when you're needing your space to do some navigating, I'll be here patiently waiting to see what you find.

Even the stars they burn.  Some even fall to the earth.  We've got a lot to learn--and God knows we're worth it. 
No I won't give up.

I don't want to be someone who walks away so easily.
I'm here to stay and make the difference I can make. 
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts we got here.
We got a lot at stake.
And in the end at least you're still my friend.
At least we did intend for us to work.
We didn't break, we didn't burn. 
We had to learn how to bend without the world caving in. 
I had to learn what I've got, what I'm not and who I am.

I won't give up on us even if the skies get rough.  I'm giving you all my love.  I'm still looking up.
I won't give up on us.  God knows I'm tough enough. 
We got a lot to learn.  God knows we're worth it.
I won't give up on us even if the skies get rough.  I'm giving you all my love.  I'm still looking up. 

Hope

Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul and sings the tune without the words and never stops at all.  -Emily Dickinson

Waking up after a 4 hour sleep is far short of refreshing.  My mind constantly turns and cannot rest.  My body aches--it has ached for weeks.  I know I need sleep. Tonight, I hope to find it.  "Rest" and "Take care of yourself" everyone says.  "I'm doing the best I can," I respond.  I know it is not good enough because my arms twitch, and I've had a muscle spasm in my left eye for about a week, I think.  People may think I'm winking at them.  I'll let them go on thinking it still. 

For weeks, I have lived without sleep.  I have lived with eating next to nothing, and what I do eat is garbage food (but nothing beats a good helping of Velveeta Shells & Cheese or a Tombstone Cheese Pizza!)--and anything but Gluten-Free, a lifestyle I acquired 10 months ago.  I have stopped noticing the constant anxiety pit that I feel in my stomach.  I have to ask myself every day to double check the status of showering, teeth brushing, and deodorant-wearing.  Most days I do all three--let's hope you're not standing downwind on the other days.  Exercise is non-existent because my body is too weak to even fathom lifting a dumbbell or running a block.  When I feel angry, adrenaline fuels me for a short time, but quickly dies.  And my adrenal glands have been the only gas that I had in a reserve tank and at this point--they are empty. 

It is time for a fresh start.  Time to make sure, that if nothing else takes place, that at the end of the day I have eaten, showered & practiced basic personal hygiene, and I lay down to sleep. 

The worrying is useless.  It hasn't helped anyone.  Hasn't made anything better.  So today, I will release it and instead listen for the wordless, endless tune in my soul and cling to the hope I need to get me back on my own 2 feet.  I've already eaten breakfast.  Next will come a shower, some tooth brushing and even a little deodorant.  I hope to have conversations and to interface with loved ones that will help to nourish my soul, water my dying tree and help me to grow strong again.  And if that does not happen, I will have to find the strength to remove myself from any weather that threatens my tree's well-being.

This spring, I decided I wanted to grow a garden and I wanted to have yard of the year.  I spent hours and lots of dollars on planters, pots, dirt, seeds, flowers and vegetables.  The front had purple and the side was blue.  And in the back--I decided to do some container vegetable gardens.  Hanging plants hung on every hook and the porch had pots with various succulents.  My favorite was a decorative wash bin that I filled with black river rocks and put in a host of carnivorous plants.  Everyday, I took the time to water, to weed, and to care for these.  I may be biased, but I'm certain that if Martha Stewart had come by, she would've wanted to shake my hand. 

In recent weeks, it has gone to the back burner.  The grass grew tall in only a week with rains that dumped out endless water.  The weeds grew even more.  And then the blazing heat scorched my little plants.  When I finally stopped to look, all of my garden endeavors were a mess.  Yard of the year trophy had been revoked. 

A friend loaned an electric hedge trimmer.  I fired up the lawnmower.  And now everything has been cut.  The bushes are trimmed, the grass is cut (with diagonal cuts--I do like to show off, you know).  And the salvageable flowers are visible as the weeds have been scaled back.  I didn't do that on my own.  Even when we were feeling disconnected, we all worked together and got it done.

I can't promise that my trophy will be returned, nor that I can maintain the level of care for that garden anymore that I once did.  The container plants were a flop, but we have had a few good tomatoes off of a few plants.  Mostly the flop was that I over planted in them and didn't create drain holes (that's a hint to anybody who wants to copy me next year).  The carnivorous plants are still alive and are still my favorite.  But right now, I need as much low-maintenance responsibility for anything else as possible because my maintenance time, energy and cash flow have to be for myself.  The yard will not embarrass the neighbors--I can assure you of that--but it will be a small hobby for me and nothing else.

I hope today is a good day for us all.  We all need it.  And if ugliness interferes with my hopes, I ask for the strength to step aside and let ugliness pass me by, and not absorb me. 

I know I can do it.  I know we can do it.  I know our garden can flourish again if first we take care of ourselves and take care of each other.  The season of fall is upon us.  Let it be a season of changing leaves, a season of change--and not a season of loss.

Love always & forever, little rabbit,
La

Back for round 2

If you are going through hell, keep going. ~Winston Churchill.



I remember a song we used to sing with the kids at Vacation Bible School and Sunday School when I was a kid.

"On a day like this (clap, clap), on a day like this (clap, clap), on a day like this (clap), oh and I need the Lord to help me." 

Each round, you would come back adding another action to the clap.  Clapping, stomping, cow-milking--I think by the end there were probably about 8 different actions.  It was always funny and silly and the kids found the funniest part to be when the "grown ups" would forget the action or get it out of order. 

In recent weeks (clap, clap) I have needed the Lord.  Those who  know me well know I would consider myself spiritual, at best.  But in the last several weeks, I have dealt with emotional lows, fears, sadnesses and realities that have left me empty--void--and powerless.  Being in the Bible belt requires that anybody you know--friend or stranger--will tell you any chance that they can that "they are praying for you" or "just to pray on it."

I'm a proof girl.  I want to see evidence.  I want it in black and white.  Yet--over a year ago--I decided to embrace gray. 

I'm also a doer.  A fixer.  Leaky toilet?  I'm on it.  Grass too long?  Consider it cut.  I may not always have the best solution (though I would argue that most times I do--ha!), but I always have one.

However, the last few weeks (clap, clap) have left me at a loss of solutions.  I don't know the answer. I can't see the end result and I can't tell anyone how to get there. 

My Southern friends assure me, "there is a light at the end of the tunnel."  And while I worry that the light is a train coming to hit me  head on, I realize that if even that is the case, I won't be able to find a solution for that--if it is coming, it is coming.

So when I have no answers and I have no proof--I find myself singing the song.

Oh I need the Lord to help me.

Please keep me and my loved ones in your thoughts & prayers.  There are large mountains ahead for all of us and doing anything less than climbing and conquering them will leave us right where we are--lost. 

Some write poetry about losing faith when they want to believe so bad.  Some go for days without talking when all they want to hear is "it is not your fault."  Some cry and want to "kick someone's balls off" when they don't understand.  Some check out emotionally. 

But me--I'm a doer.  And I don't know what else to do.

So I will go to sleep, knowing everyone is safe--everyone is loved--and that whatever that light at the end of the tunnel is--I will be here walking that tunnel and not turning around, giving up, or anything of that nature.  I was convinced earlier today that I had lost myself.  I knew I had to take a breather.  I'd forgotten that while on a plane, you are instructed to first place on your own oxygen mask before helping those around you.  I haven't done that.  I don't know if I even remember how to.  But I will learn it.  Re-learn, I suppose.  And I didn't lose myself.  I'm here.  I'm not going anywhere.  And I may grow weak--but I can't do it all and I can't do it on my own. 

I'm here.  For the long haul.  I hope you are too.  And I won't give up.  The strongest trees have the deepest roots.

10 months and counting (clap, clap), oh we need the Lord to help us...
Love always, La

The final taper

Every new beginning comes from some other beginning's end.  -Semisonic

I'm sure that several of you have checked here recently for the post-marathon report.  Since it was a marathon, you will get a marathon-length report about the marathon!!

I flew into WI and met my 2 lovely WI ladies for lunch.  I finally got to meet Baby Brooklyn, who was everything I'd dreamed and more.  If I die and there is a heaven, I'm pretty certain that it is sitting with LLR & ADBK/Brooklyn for an eternity!!  We had a nice dinner & I enjoyed day #1 of carb-loading out of state, complete with a pizza.  Then I headed back to Casa de Wulff for a little Parenthood episode with the folks, and then headed to bed--because the 2 naps I took while flying were clearly not enough sleep for this girl!

The next morning, I had to run some errands and stopped by my Dad's school to visit.  His 5th and 6th grade girls were on the edge of their seats with excitement about playing Hot Cross Buns and Mary Had a Little Lamb.  You may sense sarcasm, but there is none.  They were truly thrilled about it.  I then drove to visit another good friend at school and got to have a 30 minute catch-up session.  It was about 6 days, 23 hours and 30 minutes too short, but we did the best with what we had. :)   From there, it was time to head out to get the eyebrows waxed and then time to hit the road to go to see Gram.  Because going to see Gramp and Gram with fuzzy eyebrows would be wrong!

The week before the marathon, we had  a small scare with Gram when she went into the ER because she wasn't feeling well.  My sister and I talked and decided it would be best for us to go visit her together.  Riah agreed to cook (for the simple fact that if I did, we would all be dead now) and we both agreed to help Gram out, in addition to just keeping her company.  Along the way, I made a small detour in the city of Baraboo (the Circus World Museum is there--for anybody who read "Water for Elephants," much of the information obtained to write the book was provided by Baraboo's Museum) to stop and see Steph and kids--including her tiny newborn, Benji!!  I did attempt to kidnap him, but JC (Steph's Mom) manhandled me and Benji was safely returned.  Riah and I spent the night at Gram's BEAUTIFUL house and I headed out the next morning for Des Moines. 

The whole purpose in me choosing the 515 for the marathon was because I hadn't seen most of my Midwest friends in FAR TOO LONG, in addition to the fact that I wanted to return to Iowa as a new person and showcase my new self to the state in the form of a marathon.  Completely logical right?  When I arrived on Friday, Sarah and I kicked it for  bit, then headed to Target for some last-minute marathon-weekend needs (peanut butter, since it was confiscated at the airport, and water bottles for the race).  After that, I was reunited with my closest college friends in the form of Panchero's (YUM) and a pedi (hey, if my feet are supposed to pound the pavement for 26.2 miles, I think I've earned it, right?!).  I saw Sarah for all of 7.3 minutes at Christmas at the Albert Lea truck stop, and Nicole sometime over a year ago when she came to Winston for work for a few days.  I hadn't seen Fisher since before I moved to NC, June of 2009.  It was good to have our hearts in one location.  And isn't that Serbian boy, so handsome?!  That's Vlad, Colie's boy!  For those who are not familiar with Panchero's, it is similar to Moe's or Chipolte or Qdoba.  Only 100 times better.  Blair and Marlon, don't you dare try to say otherwise.  

Sarah and I then headed back to her house in order to wake up at the buttcrack of dawn on Saturday for an 8:00 AM chiropractor appointment in Iowa with Dr. Ole Oleson.  If that's not a good Midwestern name, I'm not sure what is.  All you Midwesterners are trying to picture him--and you're coming up with an old white-haired man who may or may not be wearing a Viking hat.  In order to assist you with your visualization process, please see the picture to the left--he is a rather handsome fellar if I do say so, myself! 

From there, we headed out to the downtown Des Moines Farmer's Market--one of my favorite things about the city (besides my people, of course!).  Food, organic fruits & veggies, cheese, salsas, baked goods, live music, and tree-hugging, granola-eating people everywhere!  My Misfits would fit it quite well at this Farmer's Market!  I bought myself an Iowa T-shirt and some puppy chow (an delectable treat unknown in the South!) to commemorate the occassion.  Sarah snapped some photos of some beautiful flowers that were on sale, as well. 

Next stop on the 515 tour:  Nelsen crew.  We popped by Leah's house.  Leah was so excited that I was coming that she decided to be my twin, complete with buyin a phone to match mine and wearing the exact same outfit.  This is what makes us Shoop Sista's, of course.  Leah and Josh just bought a brand new house, so we got to scope it, and because she (like everybody I now know) had an IPAD, I also imposed some Jim Gaffigan upon her.  HOT POCKETS anyone?  For those who don't know him, look him up ASAP on Youtube.  And try not to pee yourself. 

As my carb-loading spree needed to continue, we grabbed a little Zmarick's and headed home to enjoy this, while plotting our next step--t-shirt making fest for all of the cheering crew at the race!!  We spent several hours buying, planning, typing, printing, and ironing the shirts so  my Super Fans could be in matching threads (as all Super Fans should be, right?!).  I also did some packing for the race--which in itself is an artform and a math game, all rolled into one.  Then it was time for some Church and then some final carb-loading before the race!! 

Church was an interesting message--and perfectly timed (don't you love when that happens?).  It was called Confirmation for Grown-Ups or something to that effect--all about helping adult Christians in the ELCA church understand their faith.  They played some clips from The Book of Eli, which I have never seen, but one of the verses they focused on was all about giving your best...see picture of the screen to the right.  I had no idea how meaningful this verse would be in the next 18 hours.

From there, it was dinner time--below are pictures of all my people that joined us at Latin King (which is not a Hispanic Gang, or a Latin restaurant, but it is, in fact, Italian).  Enjoy the pics of my peeps below.



Nicki & Trac



Uncle Tom & Aunt Nancy

The Parents

Grandparents & Sister

My Child

Stunt Mom & Pop

Gina & Jessica



College Roommates and Forever Friends



Shoop Sista

Wulff Pack Cousins

Cousin Spencer on his 6th Birthday



Jennifer & Alexis



Vlad & Colie--
or as Gram said
"What's her name has the nicest husband."
  

After dinner, it was clearly time for bed--I had all my stuff for the next morning packed and ready to go--now the question was--would I sleep? The answer? Yes--for a total of 2 hours.  I would not exactly call that well-rested, but who can sleep before a day like tomorrow, really?!

Then I woke up bright and early with plenty of time to roll out of bed, braid my hair up, and get my head in the game. Several friends had sent me texts and even notes/cards to read before the race started, so I used these all to help me get focused. After some headwork, an email to coach, and some music to get me on track, it was time!!

Amy & the boys sent this picture

.

I was dressed and ready to go--as evidenced by this menacing picture.  I was putting on my biggest tough face--do I look like someone you want to mess with or not?  I'm guessing NOT, especially with that biohazard tape on my knee.

I got to the start line and first things were first:  Bathroom break.  The rules of running ANY race, especially a marathon, are that when you get to the race site, you go to the bathroom--port-a-potty or not--and not just one, but twice or three times.  I hit the port-a-john a couple times and worked on getting my head in the game.  I cranked my ipod and spent some quality time people-watching.  From there, it was time to line up--and wait for the gun to signal the start.  And I was off!!

I had orchestrated in advance that my friends be at various check points throughout the race to help me refill my liquids (Nuun), stock up on my carbs (gels and beans), put the  numbing junk on my knee, and raise my spirits.

As I came to mile 6, I found my first crew of Laura's Lunatics--Team Nelsen!

My knee began to hurt right about this point, but I kept on until mile 12 where I saw Trac & Nicki.

At 15, I was in tears and met up with Vlad & Nic, and then at 6 to Fisher who walked with me until 18 where my parents were, and we caught up with my Aunt/Uncle at the parking lot near 18. 

At 18, I had to recognize that I'd done my best job.  My Coach's words echoed in my head:  You are ready for this race, and if you knee is not, it is no reflection upon your ability to finish a marathon.  Words from church:  I have fought the good fight, I have finished my race, I have kept the faith--and that I did.  Today was not the day to finish the 26, but it was still a day of celebration.

Time for Mexican to do so!!

And then--time to roll out....18 miles of a marathon on a bum knee and 2 hours of sleep, and now a 6 hour drive back--then a few hours of sleep and flying back to the 336.

Thanks to everybody for all of your support along this journey.

This is my final entry in this blog--hope you all enjoyed the ride!!