Tag Archives: memories

Are you okay?

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I have to admit, when someone asks me if I’m fine or okay, I start to get a bit defensive.  I immediately begin to wonder if I’m starting to look weak or somehow flawed.  I’ll come up with any number of excuses to convince the person that I am completely okay and that they need not worry about me.  But 9 times out of 10, when somebody asks me this, I only go on the defensive because they are completely right.  I’m not always fine and somehow it seems they’ve noticed it.  I’m terrible at being able to hide my emotions and I’m drawn to people who are really good at reading them.  So with that combination, I am always sure to be found out.

Today, I was thinking all of this over and began to wonder why I am so set on having people believe that I’m okay, when in fact I’m actually not.  I think part of it stems from my upbringing.  I grew up in a home where I was taught to “suck it up and drive on.”  If I ever had a problem, I was told that it was inconsiderate to speak of it and burdensome for others to hear it.   I was told that there were plenty of other people who had worse problems, so my problems were not important enough to speak of.  I’m almost thinking this was a generational thing because I see a lot of people my age who were told the same thing.  We weren’t allowed to complain or voice our opinions like people are nowadays.  Everything was a certain way, and whether we liked it or not, that’s just the way it was.  We didn’t have many choices or options, we were just told to do what we were supposed to do, and not ask questions or complain.

I had my first and only panic attack when I was 18, and I still remember it like it was yesterday.  I had just started a new job, in a new state, and was living with my biological father for the first time.  I didn’t know anybody and barely even knew my dad.  I had no idea I was feeling anxious at the time because I had grown accustomed to the feeling of anxiety and usually just tried to brush it off as if nothing were wrong.  But for some reason, that day, my body wouldn’t cooperate with me just brushing off the anxious emotions which were welling up inside of me.  I was completely alone, facing the world for the first time on my own, and uncertainty and fear began to overwhelm me.

Well, that first day on the job only lasted about 20 minutes, before the anxiety attack started.  Everything began to turn different shades of gray and I could barely stand due to the sudden dizziness I felt.  All sound became muffled and it seemed like I had gone into a dark tunnel where sounds just echoed off the walls around me.  I could hear my breathing, which was raspy and strained, and the pounding of my heart, a sound I had never heard audibly, was now the only other sound I could hear.  I could no longer speak because I could no longer hear my own voice.  It was probably the scariest moment of my life, and I had no idea what was happening.

I remember somebody leading me to a storage room and making me sit down on some boxes.  I remember sitting there thinking that I might possibly be dying, but I had no idea what to do about it.  After being left there for what seemed like ages, finally, somebody came back for me and tried to ask me what was wrong.  I remember not being able to explain to them what was wrong and so eventually they seemed to give up and just drove me home and left me at my apartment.

I don’t remember how long I was back at my apartment before I was coherent enough to call my dad, but after he got home, I remember trying to explain to him what had happened.  Since I had never experienced something like that before, I couldn’t really explain what had happened to me.  Looking back, I think everyone at that store must have thought I was on drugs or something.  I never did end up going back to that place and I don’t think I ever contacted anyone to tell them that I wasn’t coming back.  It was years before I ever fully understood what had happened to me that day.  I haven’t had another panic attack since then and I really hope I never do.

I’ve since become a master at hiding my anxiety and rarely admit to anyone that I am often depressed.  The only time I really confide in anyone is after my feelings of anxiety have subsided.  I feel like it’s safer for me to talk about it then after the suicidal thoughts have left me, and when I can control my emotions better.  I always have this fear that if I actually tell someone how I’m really feeling that they will lock me away somewhere, for fear that I may otherwise harm myself.

I’ve seen my own daughter end up in a mental hospital and so I know what they are like.  The place she stayed at did her absolutely no good and actually made her mental state worse.  She became like a prisoner while she was there and we had no say in anything that happened to her.  The psychiatrist there told my husband and me that he had complete control of our underage daughter and that he wouldn’t release her until he wanted to.  I wouldn’t wish a place like that on my worst enemy and it breaks my heart every time I think of my daughter having to have been there.

It all started out with our family physician insisting that we take her there, and once we did, we lost all parental rights and were only allowed to visit her for about an hour each day.  We drove the two hours there and back every day, all in order to be able to at least see her and tell her how much we loved her.  But I would never allow it again for any of my family members, no matter what the situation, and I certainly never want to end up in a place like that myself.  So even though I struggle with anxiety and depression, I do so without medication, without therapy, and without any sort of outside help.  I “suck it up and drive on.”  It’s the way I was taught and the way I’ll forever remain.


Photo credit: pixabay.com

#MidnightMadness – 9/28/2017

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At the dinner table, the question of the day was…

If you happened along a creepy tunnel, and you saw a light at the end of it, would you venture in further to investigate where the light was coming from?

Both of my girls said, that they would investigate the light, and I said I’d turn around and go back the way in which I came.  Brianna thought that was unwise, and said the place I came from was probably worse.  I said, “Well, I came from that place and survived, so it must not have been that bad.”  And yet she insisted that going towards the light in the creepy tunnel was still the better option.  Then at the last minute she added this… “Well mom, you’re forgetting… we all initially came from a creepy tunnel.”  I couldn’t help but bust out laughing.  The joke was totally lost on little Auti.  Thank goodness for that!


Photo credit: pixabay.com

Picking up the pieces

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Today as I was preparing lunch for my 7 yr. old daughter, we had a bit of a disaster.  My daughter Autumn loves to be in the kitchen with me and I very much appreciate her help.  Unfortunately, today as she was reaching into the cupboard to grab a plate, the outcome didn’t end so well.  All of a sudden, I heard the sound of glass shattering and turned around to see what had happened.  Pieces of glass were everywhere, even at the far ends of the kitchen.  I immediately ran over to my daughter to make sure that she was okay.  I looked her over carefully, making sure that there weren’t any remnants of glass left on her.  Then, because she was barefoot, I carried her into the other room and checked her over for any scratches that she may have gotten.  Thankfully she was okay, and so with a huge sigh of relief, I then began the tedious process of cleaning up all of the glass.

It didn’t take long for me to notice just how tiny the pieces were.  Little slivers littered the countertop and dusted the floor.  I tried sweeping, vacuuming, and even mopping; anything to try and get rid of the tiny little shards, which seemed to be embedded into the hardwood floor.  The more pieces I picked up, the more pieces I seemed to find.  I thought I might never see the end of the mess.  Eventually, though, everything was cleaned up.  I put all of the cleaning supplies away and decided to finish making lunch.  Yet even then… after scouring, dusting, mopping, sweeping, and vacuuming, I still continued to find more remnants of glass.

This little incident reminded me of life, and how so often we face brokenness ourselves.  We pick up the pieces and go on, but we never quite seem to be able to find all of the pieces at once.  Then, once in a while, we’ll find a piece later on and sometimes it isn’t a very pleasant experience when we do.  We often find ourselves wounded when a piece is unexpectedly found.  Then we think to ourselves… I thought I had found all of those pieces, I wonder if there are still more left to find?  It makes us question whether or not we are really safe from the shards that seem to mar our past.  Will we keep finding more?  Or is it finally safe to walk around barefoot and freely once again?


Originally posted: April 14, 2016

Photo credit: pixabay.com

#MidnightMadness – 08/29/2017

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An early morning conversation with my 8 year old daughter…

 

Autumn – “Hey mom, guess what!?”

Me – “What?”

Autumn – “I just made fresh eggs for breakfast!”

Me – “Oh?”

Autumn – “Yeah… wanna know how I know the eggs were fresh?”

Me – “Okay, tell me…”

Autumn – “Well, the carton says so!  See… right here.  It says Farm Fresh Eggs!”

Me – “Oh, is that so…”

Autumn – “Yeah, isn’t it great!”

 

I didn’t have the heart to tell her that those eggs had been in the fridge for at least two weeks… After all, the box said they were fresh!  Lol….

 

A lesson learned

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“Let go of those who would easily give you up, and stand by those who would do anything to keep you.” ~M


Photo credit: pixabay.com

#MidnightMadness – 6/19/2017

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My husband called down into the basement to wish our 8 year old daughter a good morning.  Her response…

 

“I’m not down here!  Please call again…”  😉

#MidnightMadness – 5/20/2017

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Certain discoveries were made today at the lunch table…

“Look mom!  A head with a hat!”

~Autumn Cook (Age 8)

I never knew blueberries and raspberries could look like people.  Lol…  😉

#MidnightMadness – 5/18/2017

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Well… have you?  Lol… If so, what did you try and what have you discovered?  😉


Photo credit: funny-quotes.picphotos.net

#MidnightMadness – 5/5/2017

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One night, my youngest daughter Autumn (who was about 5 yrs. old at the time) was visited by the tooth fairy.  The next morning I asked her if the tooth fairy had come.  She nodded yes and had a very glum look on her face.  I asked her what was wrong and she told me to come see for myself.  After following her into her bedroom, she pulled out a one dollar bill from under her pillow and said, “See… this is what she gave me!”  I said, “Oh, a dollar!  That’s exciting!  She shook her head in disagreement and said, “Well, the last time I got a whole quarter!”


Photo credit: pixabay.com

#MidnightMadness – 4/8/2017

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I am the oldest of three and grew up with a sister who is seven years younger than me.  I can still remember the very first time our mother served my sister a chicken leg for dinner.  She was probably about four years old, and she looked up at our mother, with her innocent baby blue eyes, and in her teeny tiny voice she said,

“Mommy, do I hold it by the handle?” 

Everyone promptly burst out laughing and it’s been something which none of us have ever forgotten.  I really wish I would have written down more of the things my own girls have said over the years.  There were a ton of funny things, but sadly I can’t remember the majority of them anymore.


Photo credit: pinterest.com

#MidnightMadness – 3/28/2017

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“Every life in this world has been painted by God’s own hand.  That’s why I am thankful to God because when he painted my life, he included a lovely color that is YOU.”  ~CBC

*My husband wrote this note and gave it to me several months ago.  I consider it to be, one of the sweetest things anyone has ever said to me. 


Photo credit: pixabay.com

#MidnightMadness – 3/17/2017

This just popped up on my Facebook page a few days ago.  It’s a memory from three years ago.  I still remember this like it was yesterday.  Still makes me laugh!

March 9, 2014 –

Well, my day was full of a few laughs… Hubby thought he was bleeding to death from a giant hole on the bottom of his foot, when he realized in actuality, that it was only a smashed chocolate chip which he had somehow stepped on.

Then, our daughter Autumn came home from church with a smiley faced toy they had given her.  She took one look at it and said… “This thing doesn’t even have a nose on its face…  idiots!”  I guess the manufacturer of that particular toy, just cannot impress this 5 yr old one bit!  Now I’m off to bed, goodnight all!  ~M

 

 

Tales of the Dark Side – (Part 2, The Broom Incident)

Continued from:  Tales of the Dark Side – (Part 1, The Broom Incident)

It was actually quite comforting to be back home.  Five months of military training had worn me out, and I was excited to have a few weeks off, before having to report to my first permanent duty station.

As I readied the kitchen to steam the spice broom, I began to daydream about a guy I had recently met during AIT.  He had the bluest eyes of anyone I had ever met, and I loved the way they lit up whenever I caught him smiling at me.

Mom didn’t know it yet, but I had actually gotten a tattoo while I was in AIT, and this guy I liked, (Kyle) had actually forked over the money to pay for my tattoo.  He had even told me that he wanted to marry me and had begun working an extra job, in order to save for our future together.  And yet I was still surprised to see twenty-four long stemmed roses delivered to the house earlier that day.  I wondered… could he really be the one?

After becoming lost in my thoughts of Kyle, I soon realized the pot of water had begun to boil.  Grabbing the spice broom, I carefully held it over the steaming pot of water.  The rich spicy scent of cinnamon soon enveloped the tiny kitchen, and I stood there patiently steaming the broom, entranced by thoughts of Kyle and reveling in the euphoric smell which now engulfed me.

All of a sudden, my day-dreamy eyes caught sight of a wisp of smoke, which seemed to be curling up from underneath the broom.  Then, not even a second later, the entire broom burst into flames.  I couldn’t believe my eyes, and for a split second, I had no idea what to do.  I began to panic, shaking the broom violently, hoping this would somehow put the fire out.

I had just been trained on how to: throw a live grenade, operate a machine gun, set up a land mine, fire a grenade launcher, shoot an M16 rifle, survive in a gas chamber, fight off a person using hand to hand combat, stab someone efficiently with a bayonet, and yet for the life of me, I had no idea in this moment, how to put out the blazing fire which was now right in front of me.

Then suddenly out of nowhere, instinct kicked in and I knew what I had to do.  So without another thought, I held onto the broom as tightly as I could and raced to the back door.  I pushed open the glass sliding door as far as it would go and then threw the broom down onto the concrete patio.  I began stomping out the fire as best I could and then ran quickly back inside to get a bucket of water.

The broom was still smoldering when I returned, and yet the water did the trick.  The broom hissed and steamed at me as I doused it with the entire bucket of water.  Looking down, all that was left, was the tightly woven handle of the broom, the rest of it had completely disintegrated into a pile of ash.

Breathing a huge sigh of relief, I went back into the kitchen, where a thick haze of smoke now lingered near the ceiling.  I knew my parents were sure to kill me when they returned.  My stupidity had almost cost them their entire house, and I felt like a complete idiot.  So much for the courageous soldier, I thought I had become.  It turned out, I was still the same foolish girl I had always been.


The Daily Post prompt – Instinct

In the end…

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Photo credit: pixabay.com

Tales of the Dark Side – (Part 2, Childhood Pranks)

Continuation of:  Tales of the Dark Side – (Part 1, Childhood Pranks)

For the remainder of the day, I sat in my cramped bedroom; starring at the ugly whitewashed walls.  I was still furious because of the coke spitting incident; and my mother always seemed to take my brother’s side, since he was the youngest.  I knew, however, that my brother was not such an innocent darling; regardless of what my mother thought.

Admittedly, I wasn’t the most virtuous child either.  Yet now, as a teenager, I felt I had the right to express myself; and l knew I couldn’t just let my brother get away with ruining my expensive jacket.  I had to take matters into my own hands.  The thing was, I had no idea what I could do to repay my brother for his cruel assault on my jacket.

My mother watched me like a hawk, and she swooped down at every opportunity, to steal away my advantage; which is why I knew I had to be extremely sneaky when planning my retribution.  A few days passed, and my brother continued to repeat his same old shenanigans.  One night, I even caught him drinking an entire bottle of Hershey’s syrup.  Of course, it did no good to tattle on him, mom would never believe her precious son would do such a thing; and even if she suspected such things, she disregarded the idea as nonsense.

I mostly just stayed locked away in my room.  Knowing full-well that anything I said, could quite possibly be used against me.  One afternoon, though, my mother was out once again.  It was just my brother, sister, and me.  As I was making lunch for the three of us, I noticed a brown bag in the refrigerator and wondered what was inside.  After further inspection, I realized it was a urine sample, my mother was supposed to take to her doctor appointment the very next day.  I also noticed that the urine was in an old maraschino cherry jar, and suddenly a very naughty idea came to my mind.

As I was contemplating my next move, my little sister skipped into the kitchen, and I couldn’t help but divulge to her what I was about to do.  Taking the jar of urine out of the bag, I left it on one of the shelves in the refrigerator and then proceeded to call my brother into the kitchen.  He came running in, all smiles, wondering what I wanted.  I said, “Hey David, there’s an empty jar of maraschino cherries in there, but the leftover juice from the cherries is still in the jar, and I give you permission to drink it.”

Happily, my brother went to the fridge and helped himself.  Putting the jar to his mouth, he proceeded to take a big gulp of what he thought was cherry juice.  The reaction was almost instantaneous, as he quickly realized whatever was in that jar, was not cherry juice. My sister and I started laughing uncontrollably, as my brother demanded to know what was in that jar.  I could barely speak I was laughing so hard, and boy was he furious when he found out what I had tricked him into drinking.

The funny thing is, our mother came home later that evening, nobody, not even my brother dared to tell her what had happened.  I think my brother was too embarrassed by what he had done, and my sister and I knew of course what mom would do to us if she ever found out.  Let’s just say, my brother wasn’t so eager to steal food out of the fridge anymore, and he has never forgotten that horrible prank I pulled on him.  But we’re even now, and that’s all that matters.


The Daily Post prompt – Not Lemonade