Tuesday, October 20, 2009

The First Six Months. . .

It didn't seem life could get much harder or complicated after what we experienced in the month of May, but in some ways, it did, for about the next six months, or so.


We came back from our honeymoon and immediately had to pack and move Gary's home belongings over to our new house. You'd think after five days in Maui, we'd be more than rested, but we weren't. The emotional toll that Norm and Bill's death took on us, plus the wedding, plus Bree and Britton graduating was all a bit much for one month and two people. Not only did we need to blend our decor, and family, but also our dogs! This was something I really worried about. Silly, huh? Shorty was an "only (spoiled) dog" and didn't know how to socialize with other dogs because she'd never been around other dogs. Well, now she was going to have a new sister, Lovey and new brother, Schnitzel! Lovey and Schnitzel have always been considered "dogs"...so they were crate trained. Shorty, on the other hand, had never slept in anything but a queen or king size bed--all of her life! (I know, that's ridiculous...but, she's like a daughter to me.)


In marriage, there must be compromises. We all know that. Gary asked if Shorty could possibly sleep in a crate, instead of with us. In theory, I was all for it. But in reality, I didn't think it would fly...but I was willing to try. Nope! The first night, within minutes of us retiring to bed, we could hear her squealing, barking and crying. Not only was it hurting my heart, it was hurting my ears. There was no way we were going to sleep with all that going on. So we moved her to our bed, but only on the outside of me...not between us.


Next night. We're still exhausted. Shorty: crying, squealing, barking. Moved her to our bed, on the outside...the alternative? Gary mentioned going over to Jimmy and Jerre's and sleeping there...that was not an option. Over time, we both gave in and she and Lovey now sleep in their own sweet beds on the floor at the foot of our bed. At first, Shorty would sleep beside me (on the outside), but in the middle of the night, she moved to her bed on the floor. Now, three and one half years later, she starts in her own bed and wakes up in her own bed. Ha ha! You can teach an old dog new tricks!


So, you may be wondering about Schnitzel? Where does he sleep? Well, Schnitzel had to move to Dumas to live with Jatawn's parents after biting Jimmy's thumb (really badly) and marking his territory-IN THE HOUSE! Three dogs is a lot. Especially if you're used to only one dog. It was a tough decision. It was learning about Schnitzel when I immediately knew Gary would be my husband! But I must say, he is the only dog with Judy and Archie and he is fat and happy--no doubt! They installed a dog door for him; he has two large backyards to play in and two people who dote over him day and night. Judy lost her mother and Schnitzel has been such a blessing for her and Archie. I don't think they could part with him now.


Blending people is not an easy task to take for granted either. I think I had to adjust the most. I'd been single most of my life, divorced for three + years, never had children, lived alone most of my adult life, etc. etc. Bree stayed in Canyon most of the summer while she was in the play "TEXAS" and Britton was here for the summer. It seemed hard on him, from my view point. Within a year, he'd lost his mom, graduated from high school, Dad remarries and he moves from his hometown to Amarillo and a new house. Not ideal circumstances for your summer out of high school. It was tough, no doubt.


I felt helpless. I didn't know Britton well enough and he didn't know me well enough to share our thoughts and emotions about the events happening in his life. There seemed to be a big, white, elephant in our lives, but no one could really talk about it.


He left for Texas A&M in August and again, I felt helpless. I know what it feels like to need a mother's love, especially when embarking on new adventures and chapters in life. But I couldn't meet that need for him at all. It hurt my heart to think he was hurting.

Those feelings fed into my insecurities and fears of not meeting Bree's and Britton's expectations. (Assuming they had expectations?) Fear is such a powerful emotion, but this kind of fear was not good at all! I was consumed to the point that I doubted everything. During the first six months of our marriage, I started to doubt I'd made the right decision in marrying Gary! That was the result of consuming fear. Where does fear come from ? The enemy. At least that kind of fear.


My Aunt Sandra got sicker with lung cancer and passed away in July and my sorrow and grief crept up so high, I thought I would drown in it. Not long after, numbness set in. I know that was my survival technique, because I thought many times, I was drowning. I was so tired of feeling sad. I wanted my joy back. I begged God to send me His joy, His strength. I was sad for Sandra's son's, for Karen and her family, for Britton, for Gary, for Bree...and for me. Yes, I was sad for me. I've never been a healthy griever. I either kept it bottled up inside and didn't deal with it, or it came out in other ways...not so healthy ways.


Still, underneath the surface, I fought off the devil's endless attacks regarding Norm's death. Because he rejected the kidney I gave him, I couldn't help but think it was my fault. That may sound crazy, but when you're weak and weary, you're a sitting duck for the enemy. I fought him tooth and nail. Some days were better than others. It seemed I might battle this for the rest of my life. I wondered if I had the strength. . .?


When Dad died. I drank. A lot. It kept me numb. Numb was good. I no longer drank. I no longer had a "medicine" to make me numb. Not even tobacco, which could at least take the edge off. Nothing. For the first time in my life, I was dealing with grief stone sober. It hurt. It hurt bad. I hadn't developed healthy coping skills for life while growing up in my dysfunctional, alcoholic, broken home. Nope. Didn't pick up any good coping skills there.


It was me and God. Alone. To deal with the pain of the past few months, and the past 40 years. I wasn't sure God would be enough. I'd never completely depended on Him to heal my pain, my hurts, my disappointments. I'd allowed alcohol to do most of the dirty work. I simply didn't trust God 100%, but here I was. No wine, no shots, no Copenhagen.


God sent his Son to me in human form, by the way of Gary Wells. I'm not being over dramatic, either. It's true. I learned how to deal with life, sober, from a man who fears the Lord. You can learn a lot from any person who fears the Lord. It's inevitable. Plus, unfortunately or fortunately, Gary knew grief. He comforted me along the way while I dealt with my grief. One of the many things about Gary that I love is his gentle nature. There is nothing harsh about him. His softness gently rubbed away so many of my rough edges. I needed him more than he could ever need me...at least in my head.


It was in the confines of our marriage that I truly began to heal. Pain from my past, hurts from my parents, mistakes I'd made along the way. . .Gary has been there through it all. I will forever be grateful to have him as my husband. My joy slowly reappeared.

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