Sneak Attack Feelings

Every Sunday I will attempt to share an excerpt from my work in progress which will hopefully be a book someday…”You Can Hope”. 

September 2009

I have been on a totally awesome emotional roller coaster this week. And by super awesome, I mean the complete opposite. Word Play. One minute I am WEEPING watching the NIKE courage ad on TV and the next I am dry-eyed at a funeral .

Feelings are sneaky. They remind me a lot of my childhood dog Jamie. Basset hounds are my signature breed. I cannot wait for the day that I have my first dog as an adult and it will be a beautiful, sweet, sappy Basset Hound.

My 1^st childhood basset was sort of an anomaly. She was not a sleepy, sweet, goofy, droopy basset hound. She was CRAZY.

Surprise, Surprise I have always had a bleeding heart. Both of the dogs that I picked out as a child were runts and the dogs no one else wanted. My family was the 4^th owner of crazy basset Jamie. She had many fears in her little brain of hers. Typical fears like thunderstorms, vacuum cleaners, being alone…and then the atypical fears like screen windows or doors and cars driving down the street.

As the 4^th owners we were given many tips on how to love Jamie well…including don’t ever leave her alone and whenever any weather change is approaching drug her with doggy xanax.

Little Jamie was always in the moment. When she felt something, she felt it and made sure everyone around her knew. She was demanding, insisting that whoever was in her world at that moment would cater to the current need she had. Ignoring her would not help because she would just make her needs louder, and louder, and louder—-insert hound dog howl.

Now, why do sneak attack feelings remind me of Jamie?  Because currently feelings are running my life. I never have a clue of the feelings that consume my being. I can’t even go to the fricken grocery store without some sort of trigger that will remind me of what is different in my life.

I’ve always been a cheap cry. Even as a child, I saw brokenness in the world and I would quickly be in tears. I will cry with my friends when they are hurting. But, me, crying about my pain.  My hurt. Sharing MY vulnerabilities…that just doesn’t happen.

Until your sneak attacked with emotions.

Its not all bad emotions that are sneak attacking me. I’m in a new place (thank God) where joy is overruling sadness. But its sneaky because joy and sadness have this trait lately of happening simultaneously.  I can’t not smile when I think of my dad. He brings me such joy just  remembering him and recalling some of my favorite memories. But then those same feelings are full of pain and sadness because he’s gone. I won’t make more memories- but the memories I have are so sweet. It’s the chocolate syrup and milk complex. Both in the same glass, getting shook up, so even my joyful moments have a tinge of sadness.

Here’s my point. Jamie felt what she needed to feel. If she was sad, she found someone to look at with her sad eyes. If she was nervous she paced til someone gave her xanax. If she was lonely, she jumped out screen doors and would get outside—-even if it meant going on the roof of our 3 story home. Her family knew what she was feeling. She didn’t hide it.

I could take a cue from Jamie. I could share my story with others. I could reach out for support when I need it. I can cry in front of my friends.

I can make what I’m feeling louder, instead of being ashamed of what I’m feeling inside of me. I can tell someone I can’t be social today and be ok with that. And it will still be me. Just figuring out who this me is after a great loss.

I’ll be being honest with where I am at right now. In this month, at this hour.

But, If I start jumping through screen doors someone call the doctor.

2012…piss

Recently I was asked the basic question of “In a relationship, how much personal space do you need?” And my roommate, Ashley, quickly answered for me “5-10 minutes per week”.

This brought up lots of laughter and more jokes directed towards me because, the honest reality is….its funny…cause its true.

Now, of course I am going to steer clear of describing to any male suitors my LACK of a need for personal space because I don’t need them running miles from me… but I do know that I have a strong need and love for spending time with others.

When I look back on my life’s timeline….I don’t just see moments and experiences, but I see the people around me.

When I think about my early childhood, what stands out is living a ½ block from my Grandma.

Grade school brings up faces of the friends I explored small town America on my bike with.

A quick thought of middle school brings Sam and Tara into my mind listening to Jars of Clay….

This trend continues as I think of moments in my life and what stands out aren’t the things I’ve done or the places I’ve been…but the people who surrounded me. The friends that I shared countless hours of joy with and the friends that stood next to me when all I had were tears.

March 26^th, 2009 marks a day in my life that created a whole new trajectory that I never thought I would ever be on. I never expected to live my life at 25 years old without a father on this earth.

I think back on the last 2 ½ years and I don’t think about all the shitty-ness that eroded into who I was. But I think about the people who helped me stand when I couldn’t anymore. The people who provided me with normalcy, joy, and strength when I didn’t have any.

I specifically think of one person who helped create a new normal with me. A person who never left my side and put up with me when I couldn’t even put up with myself. A person who redefined what was important to her, so that she could support her friend. And finally, a person who became a constant beauty to a family who was searching for God to redeem this tragedy.

I could not imagine going through the last 2 ½ years without my roommate and best friend standing by me throughout.

Jan 6^th, 2012 marks a day in my friend’s life that I wish she never had to experience.

We now have 2 dates in our friendship that describes a loss that will never be replaced.

And now we are at a crossroads where I am the one attempting to be the friend that can stand when the other one can’t.

I look at the last two weeks, and I get angry at the pain in our lives. I absolutely hate that my friend that I love so dearly is going through so much pain that no one should have to bear.  I do not believe that God causes tragedy, but I have to declare that God is not thwarted by it.

I have tangibly seen something beautiful come out of pain and I am trying to believe that even the very thing that scars me so deep can be turned around, not of my own doing, and strengthen someone else.  

So many times I let my circumstance cloud what I saw and could only see myself and my pain. But thank God, I was divinely living with a girl who could help me find hope when I started losing it. I now pray I can be the friend that she needs.

I resolve to fail

Happy 2012!

I love new starts and I’m a big fan of new beginning so I’m pretty excited about this new year.

2011 feels a little like a blur to me. I learned a lot. There were many triumphs and many tears.

I coined the year awhile back ‘the year of desire’ and found out much more than I expected in what my desires look like and how I am searching to have them fulfilled.

And now it’s a new year. I sat down this morning to pen what I am hoping for in 2012, where my desires now are and what I hope to accomplish. And I found out I do have one big overall resolution.

My resolution for 2012 is this: I want to fail more.

As I was reflecting on 2011, I was pleased with many things. My career is heading into a new exciting direction. My family’s foundation is growing and continues to leaves us speechless. I’ve encountered friendship in big ways. I’ve gained a sister. It’s been a beautiful year.

Big things have happened and are percolating right now.

But I also reflected on things I didn’t want to think about. I saw the ugliness of my heart. The areas where I fell that I didn’t want to admit. I was faced with the crushing reality that God still loves even me and my ugliness. And even with this ugliness, beauty was still created this year. Transformation began. Not by my own efforts, but by his empowering presence and love.

This realization was a roast in a ½.

So, what are the hopes for 2012.

I want to see the world with wise eyes.

Step beyond surface problems.

I want to follow through in what I know is right.

I want to do what I’m called to do with all my heart.

I want to affect change in people.

I want to feel brokenness and grow though it.

I want my family to be renewed.

I want to translate love to every person I meet.

And I am going to FAIL miserably at this. In my own strength this is not possible. And there are SO many times when I forget that reality and step out my own. I’m going to screw up these goals left and right.

But I’m not going to surrender to the doubts that I at least can’t try.

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Sneak Peek Sunday

Every Sunday I will attempt to share an excerpt from my work in progress which will hopefully be a book someday…”You Can Hope”. 

March 2010

I drove down the familiar roads seeing all of my favorite pure Michigan sights.

Big barns set up in front of the sunset with a pond reflecting the light that is pounding against it. Rows and Rows and Rows of corn set the scene that I am back in the heart of the Midwest and I wonder why I’ve been gone for so long.

The blue water tower with IMLAY CITY is in the distance brings back smells that are all too familiar. Memories flood my mind with every street that I turn down.

I pass the home where I used to babysit three crazy kids. Knowing about the secret stairs that leads to the attic with a giant trunk that I still think must hold treasures that only movies could uncover.

A couple is walking their dog down the street and I wave knowing it is my High School English teacher and her husband. Haven’t seen them for a few years but I have become used to bumping into them every now and again when I come back to visit.

Finally, I pull into the driveway that I can picture in my mind every time I close my eyes. I stay in my jeep for just a few minutes longer knowing that what I’m going to experience is not going to be easy. Knowing that when I walk through that door so many emotions will explode into my heart.

The smell of coffee permeates my nose as I set my bag down and greet my basset hound who can’t tell who I am but is ready to greet anyone that comes through her doors gladly.

I walk through the big oak doors and there he is sleeping on his chair. The one constant I can always count on. My mom quickly greets me as she comes down the stairs which wakes my dad up and I am welcomed with the largest smile I’ve ever seen.

He stands up and pulls me into his arms. I just saw him last week but I sink into the unexpected snuggle and finally, finally, I can feel myself relax.

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

I jump up. The room is dark and my arms are empty. I am suffocated with tears as I reach to shut off my alarm clock. It has been almost a year since my dad has hugged me, except in dreams that never come often enough.

 

Pressing on

I’ve lived in Chicago for 4 years now and there is one thing that happens to you when you become a city dweller in the big windy. You become a runner.

Its the weirdest phenomena. It seems as if most everyone between the 25-35 age bracket that lives in the city is a runner. A typical conversation that takes place around your weekend plans seems to regularly include when your going to get your run in. This was very new to me when I moved to the city. I’ve never been what you would call a ‘runner’.

Do I enjoy a good workout? Yes

Am I on the constant quest of Project Pretty working on making my body a wonderland? Yes

Do I get overwhelmed when people run past me on the lake shore path? Yes

Am I coordinated enough to run and change the song on my ipod? NO

Clearly running has not been my forte. So, I avoid the talk about running until a certain season takes place in May and that season is MARATHON SEASON. I’ve literally never experienced anything like this. During the time of May-October I cannot go a whole day without hearing about someones long runs. Whether I hear about it through a live conversation/text/or facebook post running talk is EVERYWHERE.

I’m not going to lie. Its pretty easy to peer pressure me into trends. Especially if it will help project pretty. So I have jumped on the running train many times in the past 4 years. I have also fallen off the train, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have a ticket. Running and I are in constant battle. Sometimes running wins, sometimes I do.

The train I have NEVER jumped off of is the Marathon Running Spectator Train. My roommate, Ash, and I are seriously pro’s at this game. We have even taken a whole vacation to Boston just to cheer on friends that are running. We both realize that running a marathon is a huge deal. Something probably neither her or I will ever undertake, but we love to support our friends that do.

So the race is on and it becomes a hunt to track all of our runner friends!  Then,  in the 2.2 seconds that we get to see them while they are running we cheer them on like they are the only people there. You may be wondering what do we do in the 4 other hours where we are not seeing anyone run,well,  we cheer on the strangers. Many runners are wearing their names on their shirts so we can yell their names and make them feel like they can finish this race and FINISH well!!

The topic of finishing a race has been a big piece of conversation at the Prendergast home this past week. My Grandma went to heaven last weekend and this weekend my Great Uncle Bill joined her.

These were both deaths that were somewhat anticipated and there was time to say goodbye for each of them but… a loss is a loss. Saying goodbye to someone forever still brings about a sense of sadness and mystery of what happens next.

Many time this past week quotes have been said about how Uncle Bill lived life well. He finished his life well and he is leaving this earth with no remorse, no debt that needs to be cleaned, no unforgiveness, no bitterness. He is proud of the life he has lived and ready to welcome the next one.

And we were all there in his hospital room cheering him on as he left this life and entered a new one. We were there supporting him and telling him how great he had done and how much he meant to us. We were his marathon cheerleaders because his life has definitely been a 26.2 miler of pain and victory.

And it got me thinking, I wonder what mile of life I am on. Right now with all this death, the griever in me has hit a wall! I feel like I am going uphill. And thank goodness I have people surrounding me and cheering me on that I can face this and move past it well. I have faith that I live this life in anticipation of what is next and  I have people fueling me along this journey.

Thank God for those spectators that are cheering me on.

My Uncle Bill has been one of my biggest supporters. And I was one of many who have been encouraged by Uncle Bill through the years.

He lived his life always encouraging the people around him. And he finished well.

Who in my life is needing someone to cheer them on? Who in my life is struggling at mile 16 and is waiting for someone to read their shirt and tell them ‘press on, you can do this well.’

I’m going to try to avoid stranger danger and jump in to cheer on those on the course set in front of us. Its my turn to be like Uncle Bill and take front and center and encourage someone else.

 2 Timothy 4:7  I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. 

A letter to my 18 year old self…

A few months back I wrote a sneak peek sunday with the thought of what I wish I could have told myself 10 years ago.

Funny, I’m not the only person who has ever done this.

There happens to be a website all about letters to your 18 year old self. So, I submitted that blog with a few tweaks here and there to make their word count…and they accepted it.

Go over and check it out! http://www.dear18me.com/2011/11/16/life-is-not-what-you-thought-it-would-be/

What Dementia Has Taught Me

I had the privilege of growing up with two wonderful grandmothers that have been a very big part of my life. I feel so blessed that my childhood and adult life share so many memories with these two wonderful ladies. They are both so unique and their personalities could not be farther from each other.

My mom’s mom would be described as loud, goofy, opinionated, driven, and independent. I share many many character traits that I picked right up from my Grandma!

My dads mom would be described as sweet, caring, quiet, and sincere. I probably need a few more of these character traits!

Both very different from each other, but both having one similar thread within themselves…they both love the cuss out of their family. There is absolutely nothing that these two ladies would not do for the people that they love.

And they have taught that to their kids, which for that I’m forever thankful. I’ve got to be on the receiving end of a lot of love through the Prendergast & Robertson Family and I can’t picture my life without that.

My dad’s mom was diagnosed with dementia around four years ago. That diagnosis carries a lot of weight, knowing that someday Grandma may not be in a place that she is herself, and not quite knowing when that day will come. But my family, per usual, tackled the diagnosis and took everything that came with it in stride.

Each holiday or visit with Grandma some changes would be noticed. Whether it was hesitation with her conversations because she would become confused, wandering somewhere, or hiding deli meat in her purse ( to save for later, of course!), little pieces of who she was slowly began slipping away.

One of the worst parts about dementia is how used to that process you become. You know she’s not going to be getting better. You have to keep watching that person fade, watching the synapses in her brain die, bit by slow bit.

I hate dementia. I hate it that it steals people away.

But what dementia has taught me is that it cannot steal the soul of a person away.

Even though my Grandma was becoming less and less herself what continued to shine through every time was her happiness. She may not have always been the loud and expressive Grandma while I was growing up, but she was always sweet,  always smiling and always praying to God through dark times and light. When this disease began stripping away parts of her the core of who she is never left.  This disease shaped her into the sweetest and happiest person I know.

Its been hard to watch her fade. As I’ve watched I’ve become mad at God because why would he let this disease take so much of her away. And then I realized she is still the same person. Its hard to see with the pieces of her that is left, but she’s still my Grandma. She still wants to hold my hand when I set it in hers. She still wants to look at me and smile back. Its just up to me to love her the same way. Love her like she is, the beautiful core of her soul that is still holding my hand.

My grandma went to be with Jesus last night. She walked through the pearly gates and knew exactly who everyone was. She saw her sister and remembered memories from her childhood and what it was like to grow up 90 years ago. She saw her husband and remembered every vivid detail of her marriage with him and the family they created. She saw her son, and probably told him ‘why the heck did you leave so early, you know I was already going through enough without having to lose you!’

She walked into heaven with her mind. With no pain, no confusion. Just joy and peace.

I miss my Grandma. I’ve been missing her for awhile. I hate that I wont be splitting a whole pie with her at Thanksgiving next week.

But I’m so happy that she is whole. She is complete. And she is rejoicing.

Thank you Grandma for inspiring me to have a core soul like yours. That if all of me gets stripped away, my core soul would emulate yours.

Meaningless Life List

- I had an interesting realization this morning. I believe, last night was the first time I have ever stayed in a hotel solo. I usually am always traveling with a buddy, or, if for a work-event, a co-worker. This weekend is a bit different. I’m attending a conference in DC solo and then hanging with my friend who lives close by. Today has been learning central and has given me a new affinity for traveling alone. When I reached my destination last night and entered my hotel room with the king size bed I felt just a few feet away from heaven!

- As I was driving through DC into Maryland I caught a sweet view of the washington monument at night…I had to pull over and take a reflection moment.

- I’m staying at the Hilton and apparently Hilton is pro Friday, 2pm weddings. Now, so am I. Didnt know I would be attending a wedding this weekend….SCORE!! And if you are wondering if there were tears while I was attending the strangers wedding…the answer is of course, yes.

- My conference is all about development and working with the different biological challenges within a ‘relationship based’ model. Essentially using people and emotions to create change within kids life. I’m in. One of the many video clips that was shown this morning:

- I’m humbled by friendship. 6 years ago I moved across the country to live in Yellowstone National Park for a summer. Very unsure of what this summer would hold. There was this girl that was staying across the hall from me that did the same thing. This weekend, I get to hang out with her. I’ve spent about 15 days with Kelly since Yellowstone, yet she is still one of my absolute best friends. Theres something about keeping in touch with people that really can change your life.

- Lastly, this weekend is pretty special to me. I am anxiously awaiting the call that my pseudo neice has entered the world! Sarah & Bill’s little girl should be here any minute and I can not wait to love on this little girl. I could write a whole blog post on how much I was surprised by the amount of love I have for little will…I have a feeling this little girl is going to do the same thing. I love being an aunt!

Sorry no words of wisdom on this post. Just me, being a girl, traveling solo, and sharing it with the world.

Sneak Peek Sunday

 

Every Sunday I will attempt to share an excerpt from my work in progress which will hopefully be a book someday…”You Can Hope”. 

November 2009

Christmas music is on. Starbucks red cups are out. Layering is over, coats are on.

Its fall. The holiday season has begun.

So far this year I’ve experienced:

 My birthday- which I denounced.

 Easter- Where I went to church for the first time since the accident. And ran out crying.

Fathers day- Where I made the big boys waiter wish he was hiding under a chair.

& 4^th of July- Which was actually awesome. There was a lot of booze and a lot of hanging with Grandma. 

Now we have the big guys. Were coming around the figurative monolopy board of life and park place and boardwalk are slowly approaching. I wish I could just go to sleep and wake up on  Dec 31^st and have a huge party saying screw you  2009.  2010 show us what your made of, you’ve got to be better than this.

This holiday season continues to present the simple fact that I don’t have a dad.

I have a mom. I have a brother. But where is our family? It will never be the same  again. No trees, no lights, no presents.

Covering presents up with blankets because he doesn’t feel like wrapping. Going to Meijer on Christmas eve to get Mom’s gift. Getting the one gift he thought about all fall that he bought on ebay. Looking through all the presents, but waiting for the gift that I know will be a constant. The one gift that is always there.

 

My Christmas letter from my dad. Listing all the ways that he loves me and all the wisdom he has for the next year.

This year there will be no blanket covered presents under the tree. No man sitting on his couch waiting for his kids to wake up so we can read his scripture of the moment. And no letter sharing the words that hes been wanting to say all year.

Maybe just the anticipation of what these holidays are going to bring are suffocating me with sadness. I’ve never had a first Thanksgiving with out my dad. I’ve never had a Christmas morning without my dad. What if my mind is making all of this worse then it really is.

How do I face the anticipation of something that I know will suck?  How do I prepare myself for pain?

The famed griever C.S. wrote in his book A Grief Observed, “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear.” That is exactly what I’m facing. I see this fear in every part of my life right now. This seemingly happy holiday is polarizing me with fear. Fear that I will start crying in a department store when ‘Oh holy night’ is playing, fear that I will make someone uncomfortable as they are talking about the joy they are experiencing with this holiday, fear that I won’t be able to support my mom in the way she needs, fear that it’s a reality that my dad really wont be sitting on my couch when I drive home and walk into my house.

How do I face this? What do I do?

Living life near the Brine

I am a product of small town America.

When I was 7 years old my parents relocated to the mecca of Pickles and John Deere. That place could place could only be, Imlay City, Michigan.

Its Stars Hollow meets Pleasantville meets Hicktown, USA. Where there are few local amenities besides simply being a community that knows and cares for each other above all else.

This ‘city’ is actually not a city at all, but a town. Yes I am talking about the town, Imlay City.

Clearly the founders of Imlay ‘City’ had big dreams for this little town. They cast a large vision of growing leaps and bounds…and it has… but this shows how Imlay City is still just beginning to blossom and step into the dream that has been cast for this town.

The first business you see as you get off the interstate is what you would imagine you would see in most small towns across America, TSC…which off course stand for Tractors Supply Company. You can go here to get every small town need met, whether it be a new John Deere or the camouflage gear that hasn’t taken up residence in your closet yet.

Next you will look to your left and catch a glimpse of ‘Pamida’, Imlay City’s version of Macy’s/Target/Meijer/Walmart, all combined into one. This little beauty has community written all over it. It was founded by three men; Paul, Mike, & David. Now, of course they each wanted the other to have the recognition they each deserved so they took the first two letters of their names to create their brand. BRILLIANT! And this legacy is carried on into the isles of Pamida.

Its 9pm on a Friday night in October and a dire need has brought you walking through the front doors of Pamida. As you enter you see a well put together Lawyer in his three piece suit who has been working all day at high powered courtroom job, yet as he pulled into his town he remembered the message from his wife ‘don’t forget to grab milk before you come home’. Behind him are three high school student in their full football gear, re-living the games highlights and checking out with gatoraid and beef jerky in hand, every football players recovery snack. A little behind him you see Uncle Jebb meets Charlie Daniels meets Billy Joes cousin aimlessly pacing down the aisles.

Clearly, Imlay city draws a unique crowd. But the beauty in this crowd is that everyone is accepted. There isn’t a medium economic standard you need to meet. There isn’t a certain look your house has to have. There isn’t a select school that you need your child to be attending.

There’s just people…loving people.

I know if I would have walked into Pamida on that fictional night with my mom and brother, we would have chatted with each of those characters. Not necessarily because we have great friendships with them, but because I would be with two Imlay City locals that regards each person as someone who is known and loved.

If Imlay City had a polar opposite…it would be Chicago. I now am living in the center of that opposite. But I countdown the days until I get to jump in my jeep and make the 5 hour trek to my home.

I relish the moments that I can sit on my porch and chat with every neighbor that walks their dog down Grove Avenue.

I get excited thinking about when I get to walk into the house that smells of coffee and love and just wait for the doorbell to ring knowing that another person is here to say hi, and/or leave a bag of baked goods at our door.

It’s a town where people bless people. And its beautiful.