Real Life Marriage: Acceptance

I’ve had some frustrations with my husband lately, well not just lately, but throughout our marriage. But you know what I’ve realized? I’m not perfect either. As much as I want him to grow and change, maybe I need to grow and change just as much or more. And maybe we both just need to accept the fact that we are radically different in some ways.

There are so many good things about my husband! He is kind. He is generous. He is caring. He is a good problem-solver. Who am I to harp on what I want him to change? And if he was able to change those things, would he still be the man I love? If he valued cleanliness and home and communication and emotions at the levels I did, he probably would have not have the brain space for the things that make him tick. And maybe asking for him to change in these ways is really asking for the impossible. Maybe I just need to buck up and do the things that I keep wanting him to do. They are my priorities, after all.

After six years, perhaps I am coming to a place of more settledness. I love my husband. I really do. Life with him is a gift from God! Sure, things are not perfect, but they won't ever be. We need to change and learn and grow to avoid stagnation, but part of that growing might be in acceptance. It might be in accepting that we really are different, and though we may grow together, we will not grow into each other. We are, after all, different people.

So here's to year seven of our lives together, not a year or perfection, but a year of further acceptance, further growth, and perhaps even some changes. May God be glorified in us, and in our marriage. In Jesus' name, Amen!

Focal Dystonia: A Lesson in Acceptance

Humans are meaning-making creatures. When we make meaning out of things, they seem earlier to accept. It feels like we have more control. We we can't make sense of our situations, when we don't have an A + B = C equation, it's difficult. In those situations, we can try and try and kick against the goads, or we can work on acceptance.

I am on a long journey of acceptance with focal dystonia. I chased diagnoses and solutions for so long. I wanted my situation to be fixable, curable. It it was carpal tunnel syndrome, or cubital tunnel syndrome, I could have surgery. If it was nutritional, I could take supplements. If it was neurological, I could take medication. As it stands, the problem is in fact neurological, and I do take medication, but it does not abate the symptoms. It only eases them, slightly, if it is a good day.

I grasp at straws. I wanted to find out what my condition was. I did. I wanted to heal it. I can't. I wanted to understand this condition. I am learning to, as much as anyone else does, but information is limited. I want to make meaning, but I can't. 

I have asked myself if it is my fault that I got focal dystonia. Did I crochet too much? Type too much? Use my hand wrong? Is this a consequence or punishment for bad habits or ways of living? Is my brain not good enough to heal? Am I not good enough to heal? If this is my fault, maybe my condition will make a little more sense.

No one really knows what causes focal dystonia, though, so the point is mute. I have focal dystonia. Unless God does a miracle, or by common grace, allows doctors and scientists to find a miracle cure, I am stuck with this. My choices are to keep looking for answers, to fight it, or just accept it. 

This focal dystonia is a thorn in the flesh. It causes me pain. It limits my activities. In God's sovereignty, though, he has allowed me to have this condition, and allowed it to persist. I can fight God, and fight my condition, or accept it. It's not a one-time acceptance, either, but a constant one, as the condition morphs and changes with times and conditions. 

Oh, this life. I wish it was easy. I wish I had answers, but I don't. I only know the One who does, and am working to accept what he allows me to receive out of his merciful, gracious, loving hands.

Too Much

I can be a bit of a firecracker sometimes. I'm an oldest child. I have a Type A personality. I'm stubborn and hard-headed. And I have a lot of strong preferences.

Sometimes I worry that my personality is too much. I think I should be more soft and demure. More docile or tame and less opinionated. But then I realize that I really can't be. I have a fiesty nature. That's just who I am, and to change that would be to change the person God made me to be.

There is certainly a time and place for being polite and respectful, for withholding. I never want to purposefully offend people with my personality. And I don't want to camp on my opinions and preferences to the point that I'm ridiculously inflexible. I don't want to be rude or prideful or selfish. But I don't want to be fake, either.

More and more, God is revealing to me who I am and what I am about. That allows me to be more assertive in expressing my preferences, more firm with my boundaries, and more sure with my "Yes" or "No." And in a lot of ways, that is freeing.

So if I've offended you in something I've done, please tell me and let's talk about it. Maybe I need to change, or learn to be more soft in my authenticity. But if my personality offends you because it's too much, maybe we need to have a surface level, respectfully tolerant relationship and let the rest go.

And on the flip side, if I invest in you, know I'm trying, by God's grace, to living an authentic life. I'm quirky and weird and full of it sometimes, but that's me. What you see is what you get, and if I share with you, it's honest, and intentionally real. I mean what I say, and I say what I mean. Too much? Maybe. But this is the too much God has given me. And He's in control.

Don't Judge My Jeans (Or Whatever Pants I'm Wearing)

I didn't wear jeans until around fifth grade. I didn't like the way they fit or felt. I started wearing jeans when I moved to Arizona and was made fun of incessantly for my stretchy pants. I had a love/hate relationship with jeans shopping. I had to wear cowboy Wranglers for awhile to get them long enough. Later, I paid too much for Calvin Klein jeans that fit, but quickly ripped. I found some St. John's Bay jeans that fit for awhile, but then JC Penney stopped selling them. My last pairs of jeans were hand-me-downs from my Arkansas best friend. I outgrew one pair and the other is only good for winter. I told myself to look for new jeans and I occasionally did, but I didn't buy any last year. And I didn't for most of this year.

So what did I buy? Yoga pants and legging. They're not for everybody or every job, but they work for me. I spend a lot of my work days playing with kids. My body is constantly changing and fluctuating in size and yoga pants will fit most of the time. Yoga pants are cheaper and easier to clean than jeans anyway. And I can buy multiple pairs for the price of one pair of jeans. It seems like a win to me. And it feels more authentic.

Clothes are so much of a status symbol. And I'm not saying I'm immune. But what I am advocating for is more acceptance. Please don't judge me or the person next to me based on our pants (or our pant sizes!). You never know why a person wears what the clothes they wear. Those clothes might be all they have. Those clothes might be medically or job necessitated. Those clothes might be a marker of that person trying to accept their body. Those clothes might be just for comfort in a stormy season of life. Whatever the case, don't judge.

Side note: I did finally buy one pair of jeans. They're the same brand as my best friend hand-me downs, but decidedly shortly. They work with boots, so for this season, they'll do....

"This is All Good News"

"This is all good news." That is what the doctor said after conducting yet another nerve study of my arms and hands. I had hoped that this study would reveal the cause of the incoordination and dropsy and clenching and pain of my right hand. I even got excited when the EMG tech said my nerve responses were slow (but then he used a blow dryer to warm up my hand and that fixed the "problem").

(My marked-up, poked-up, post-EMG-test-hand)

I've been struggling with this hand issue for years now. I thought it was carpal tunnel, but then it wasn't. I went to the chiropractor. I visited the neurologist. I underwent MRIs of my neck and spine. I tried a Parkinson's medicine. I got botox. I went to physical therapy. Nothing really changed.

So when the doctor told me the test showed no cause for my problems, I felt disappointed, and angry, and discouraged. I am thankful that I do not have muscular dystrophy or multiple sclerosis or some incurable disease, but I wanted the doctor to find something wrong so he could fix me. The lack of results from my test wasn't good news in my world. 

My mom and I have a weekly tradition of walking and talking on Saturday mornings and on our walk today, she brought up Romans 11:33. This verse says, "Oh, the depth of the riches of the wisdom and knowledge of God!  How unsearchable his judgments, and his paths beyond tracing out!" As we talked about God and his inscrutable ways, I thought about my hand and how God says he works all things together for good for those who love him (Rom 8:28). My hand issues do not feel good. The lack of diagnostic results from my test do not feel good. But I'm not on the other side of the table. I'm not the one with the medical degree and the background knowledge needed to interpret the tests. I don't know what it would really be like to get the test and have results that pointed to a terrible diagnosis.

I think it's like that with God. We pray for healing and hope and help and other good things and we don't see God come through. Life doesn't go well and we don't feel good. But we don't have infinite knowledge. We don't see our lives as the tiny specks they are in the grand scheme of God's cosmos. We don't know how our pain and sorrow and grief and other "not good" things might fit into God's eternal plan.

The "not good" of life is hard! I am not at a place where I can fully accept a diagnosis of dystonia as the only reason for my hand issues. I get angry when I can't type well or when all the tendons and muscles in my forearm hurt from trying to use my hand. I still plan to go to Phoenix to see another doctor in order to get a second opinion. I am not happy with the "good news" of my tests.

But in the midst of it all, I still have to claim and believe in God's goodness. I have to recognize God's goodness in spite of my worldly suffering. I live in light of God's goodness, and that exists in an entirely different cosmos. That otherworldly universe is about God's glory, not just about what seems and feels good to me right now.

Bingeing?

(A "normal" nighttime snack of avocado pudding, almonds, leftover pancakes, and an apple)

I've been a night-eater since, I don't know, seventh or eight grade. And my mom always eats a bowl of cereal before she goes to bed. I've been reading a lot about bingeing at night, though. (See ImmaEatThat and In It For the Long Run.) And I started to get concerned. I even freaked myself out that I had Night Eating Syndrome. But that's not in the DSM, and I don't have all the symptoms, so I decided to give that idea a rest.

But I still eat a LOT at night. And lately, it's been even more. Not eating enough at lunch probably has something to do with it, but I always seem busy and preoccupied, so satisfying lunches don't really seem to happen. I don't feel super hungry during the day (even though I definitely eat three meals), and then I'm SUPER hungry at snack time. I've been fighting the hunger, trying to portion out my food, limiting myself, etc., but it never seems to work.

So you know what? I'm giving in. A few nights back, for example, I had quite a few tortilla chips with crunchy peanut butter after my initial snack of toast, apples, peanut butter, and a bowl cake (aka mug cake). I tried to hold back, but I was hungry, and if I'm hungry, I don't sleep. I wanted to sleep. And guess what? I woke up hungry after eating all that, so I guess my body needed the fuel.

I struggle mega-big-time with self acceptance, and for me, this night-eating seems to be part of life's journey. It's about accepting my body, honoring its needs, and being okay if I sometimes eat more than I probably "should." Maybe eventually my hunger and eating will even out, but for now, this is what it is (no labels), and I accept it.

Also, a big shout out to My Uncommon Everyday for her Day in the Life post about her nighttime snack. She's honoring her hunger and her body, too.