Another "Missing Dad" Post

I find myself going to my dad's facebook page at the end of most days; it's like a gravitational pull.  I'm always disappointed, but I'm not sure what I'm hoping to find there.  There were these months of crying each time I drove in the car by myself, sat at the computer by myself, or talked about him.  There has been disbelief, layer after layer of it, sadness, anger, joy, and bitterness.  I think right now, though, I am just stuck at Frustration.  I don't cry most days now, and the sting of his absence is less, but watching everything crumble around where he should still be standing is unbearable in a new way.  Oh, how much his wisdom is missed.

His gentleness, sincerity, his humor.

The way I believed - truly believed deep down in my bones - that I was safe with him near me.

Now it's just........gone.  The newness of his death has worn off of most people.  The company has gone home.  Long-lost friends who initially started calling to console are now distant again.  All the "first's" have passed: first birthday without him, first Christmas, first wedding anniversary, first Father's Day, first anniversary of his death.  It feels too soon for the "others" in life, i.e. coworkers, neighbors, friends, acquaintances, etc. to move on.  Uhh, hello!  Jeff Woods is still gone.  The world is still not normal and never will be again!  Everything has changed and it sucks.  This man is GONE!  How can you dare to laugh? Doesn't his life mean ANYTHING to you?!  

People now ask how I'm doing so nonchalantly, lacking the caution and sympathetic look they used to give when they asked me that question.  Sometimes I get so offended about that!  How am I doing? You know my dad's still dead, right?  What do you mean, how am I doing?

I miss our life.  I miss the way things made sense and how there was an order to the universe.  Arguing politics and religion was safe with my dad.  Everyone left with their tails a little ruffled but the next conversation was back to silly and comfortable as usual.  We all had our roles, we all knew when it was time to stop being ridiculous, to stop behaving badly, or start listening to our parents.  Now our roles have been thrown to the wind, and we're all trying to grasp at them.  It didn't make sense, it's constantly evolving, and there is nothing sturdy about them.  Security has been lost.  We're each left trying to grapple at how to navigate this life without him, both independently and as a family.  It's like shifting sand now, never stable for a second anymore.  As soon as things start to settle, a wave crashes and everything has changed again.  I sooo long for us to go back to how we used to be, when we knew our direction and didn't need to seek out fleeting and foolish illusions of happiness to sustain us.  I thought we were stronger than that, more solid.  I'm not recognizing our once-strong family anymore.  Part of me hopes that Dad can't see us from heaven because I think he would be so sad at what he sees.

Still Gives Me Chills

Feeling helpless and unworthy

Please please pray for wisdom for Mark and I as we try to figure out what is best for Izaiah.  He has been getting increasingly aggressive and explosive, and we are struggling just to breath.  There are no good options available to us.  There are great resources, such as respite, mentors, therapy, inpatient treatment, residential programs, behavioral school, etc., but each of those things comes with a cost.  For example, if we have Izaiah stay a weekend at a respite home - even a GOOD respite home - he feels abandoned and fearful that we do not really want him, and he acts out aggression for a week afterwards.  Not to mention it takes several therapy sessions to once again make any seemingly small progress at convincing his bruised and battered little heart that his mommy and daddy can be trusted and adore him beyond words.  If he attends behavioral school he has more staff who are trained to deal with his aggression and has therapeutic services going on all day.  BUT his quantity and quality of education severely suffers, and he is re-exposed to violence from other kids on a daily basis.  I become so weighed down with despair that I cannot provide the supports he really needs, that it feels impractical to even get out of bed.  I feel like I'm failing at being a mom, both for him and Dre.  I could cry all day if given the time to.

I'm so grateful for God's grace for me.  I struggle with being depressed and having this high anxiety, but at the end of the day He provides a soft spot for me to land, and He is my comfort when there is no other comfort to be found.  My "church issues" have been creeping back up, and I once again find myself in this place of anxiety, isolation, shame, heavy self-criticism, and feeling unworthy.  Aren't I just a piece of work, geez!  The enemy doesn't have to come up with new tricks to break me, because the same ones work on me over and over and over and over.    Ugh, I want to tell the enemy to "Go to Hell!!!" but I think he likes it there. He's like a prowling lion, looking for someone to devour (1 Peter 5:8).  I'm glad that at the end of the day, God gets the last word, and His word is that I am His beloved.  Some affirmations I am printing out for my office (aka cubicle):

I am chosen and beloved!
I will not be condemned by God.
I have been set free from the law of sin and death.
I have been accepted by Jesus.
In Christ Jesus, I have wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption.
I am a new creature in Christ.
I am no longer a slave!
I have been set free through Jesus!
I am chosen, holy, and blameless before God!
Because of God's mercy and love, I have been made alive with Christ!

Dad's Playlist

I can't do much else than sit and listen to the playlist I made of my dad's favorite songs.  It's pretty old-school...and AWESOME.

On the dreaded one year anniversary of his ascent to heaven (doesn't that sound so much happier than another word I could use?) I stayed home and this is what I did.  It was a ROUGH. DAY.  And then I found out that my favorite band, the most awesome, amazing band, Needtobreathe, is coming to STL for a FREE concert!!!!  It was like a present from above, especially since one of the reasons I love them so much is that they sing about experiences I've had and remind me of my dad.  So thanks to whichever Dad up there orchestrated that! :)

David

I fully intend on posting my "Eric, Part 2" post, just not today.  I have to be in the right mood to write, especially when it is emotional content.  I don't want anyone to think I am writing to badmouth anyone or take out revenge on Eric by slamming his character on my blog.  The story has a good ending, an ending God orchestrated beautifully and hopefully you will be blessed by hearing about it when I finally post the ending.  Such suspense.  Fun fact: Sometimes I watch the end of movies first because I can't stand the suspense and anxiety I feel throughout the movie if I don't know whether or not it has a happy ending.

My baby brother graduated high school over the weekend and I am one proud big sister!  Not because he graduated...I would be proud of him regardless.  He's such a great kid, I mean, man!  It's hard to believe he is 19 years old!  Fun story I just thought of.  After Hannah and Jonathan were born, I guess I really still wanted another sibling.  When I was 8 and 9 I would BEG my mother to please have another baby.  I wanted another baby brother so badly.  I begged and begged and prayed and prayed and prayed.  When I would blow out my birthday candles I would wish for a baby brother.  When I would blow dandelions I would wish for a baby brother.  Finally one day my mom brought me into her bedroom and sat me down for a very solemn talk.  She told me that my dad had a vasectomy that week, and it would not be possible for me to have another baby brother.  Oh, how devastated I was!  Mom, did I cry?  I'm sure I cried.  Fast forward a few weeks.  My mom brought me into her bedroom for another talk.  She sat me on the bed and told me that she was pregnant!  I was elated!  God listened to that little 9 year old and gave me the desire of my heart!  Once he was born you could not pry me away from him!  I was his "Sissy Mama" and have been in love ever since.

Congratulations David!  Remember...wear sunscreen.

http://youtu.be/sTJ7AzBIJoI

Jesus > Religion

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1IAhDGYlpqY

Betrayal, Part 1

I was 11 when we moved to St. Louis.  My dad took a position as Youth Minister at a church in Ladue.  We were closer to my grandparents and dad's side of the family, to my dad's lifelong best friend, Steve, and back in his hometown.  Moving to St. Louis felt so glamorous and mature to me.  I made fast friends in the youth group, and being the daughter of one of the ministers, quickly inherited 400 people who loved me and my family and were for us.  It was instant acceptance and instant family.  I was excited to be a part of that church.  I felt alive and like I had another chance at reinventing the "cool" me that I desperately wanted to be.  Everything was exciting.  My friends in the youth group were all older and just so cool.  I got to spend tons of time with my dad since we were always doing youth group and church activities together.  Since my dad was my favorite and most beloved person, this was heaven.  He was my best friend, the one I confided everything in, although I would not have admitted that at the time.  He was just so COOL.  What daughter wouldn't be so proud of a dad that teenagers wanted to hang out with, ones who were fine with being seen with him at the movies on a Friday night.  This was a charmed life, at least when I was with him.

Every Sunday morning we went to church, stayed for lunch in the Fellowship Hall, drove the 25 miles home to relax for about an hour, and then my dad and I would head back to the church for youth group that evening.  If we didn't have youth group, a bunch of us were usually hanging out anyways.  Wednesday nights were devoted to youth group, and at least that Friday or Saturday was spent doing activities like video scavenger hunts, service projects, and lock-ins.  At least every other month we took a weekend trip, whether it was to Pinecrest, youth rallies, Cardboard Castles, or Spring Sing.  There were church ladies retreats at Camp Lakewood, family retreats at Neotez, the most wonderful place on earth.  During the summer, we spent at least one week at Neotez and we would drive the five+ hours to Arkansas for a week of Uplift on Harding's campus.  There was always a week-long mission trip or camping trip to Colorado.  Tuesdays were service project days that usually ended at the pool or getting ice cream.  Bible class, church picnics, Small groups, singing group, girly sleepovers.  Aside from school, my world was church.  I loved knowing every single person at church, feeling like every mom there's daughter; even the constant hugs from the old ladies and lectures from the grown-ups.  This, to me, was family.

My dad had replaced the former youth minister, who was one of his closest friends.  Eric was fired from being the youth minister after his wife left him, and there were "concerned parents" that were afraid that Eric, being in his twenties, would take solace in romancing one of their beautiful 16 year old daughters.  I remember sitting at a Dairy Queen, pretending not to listen as Eric told my dad he had asked the elders to replace him with my dad, because if his youth group had to go to anyone else, he wanted it to be him.  I probably would have felt bad for the guy, but his misfortune meant a whole new world for me.  Eric kept going to that church and even kept helping out with the youth group.  My dad was always the most loyal friend.  He knew how hard it must have been for his friend to not only lose his wife and his job, but also to feel like he lost his own kids, because that's how close he was with the youth group.

There was one Sunday night, not too long after my dad moved us to St. Louis, that the youth group decided to hang out after Sunday night service.  This was before cell phones, when you had to make a solid plan in advance in order to hang out with your friends.  The youth group stood around and talked about options of where to go.  Eric spoke up and offered for everyone to come to his place.  I could tell this was a little awkward for my dad, as he was still the new youth minister, trying to earn his place among a youth group who still were so deeply loyal and attached to the former one.  Was it okay to go hang out at the old youth minister's house?  And with the new youth minister?  I watched everyone intently, like the scene from a movie.  I have always been so vigilant and watchful of other people.  My dad made light of the awkwardness I'm sure everyone felt.  People started deciding who would ride with who over to Eric's apartment.  Naturally I was going to ride with my dad.  Eric offered to take a car full.  It seemed like everyone else had driven their own cars or were riding with their friend who had.  Somehow no one ended up riding with me and my dad.  Everyone walked out to the parking lot together.  My dad and I sat in the humming car, windows down, waiting to be part of the caravan while everyone else stood chatting at Eric's car.

"Go on ahead!  We'll be right behind you," yelled Eric to my dad.

My dad and I drove to Eric's apartment and waited.  No one came.  We waited for at least an hour.  We waited at his door, then stood down in the parking lot, but no ones' car pulled in.

My dad always had the kindest and most compassionate eyes.  His whole face smiled, and he was always in a good mood, always wise and statuesque.  But I remember the look on his face that night, as we both realized no one was coming.  He'd been tricked, left out, ditched, and we both knew it.

"Well...that's alright Babe," he said as we walked to the car.  "Probably just a mixup."  He half smiled but I knew that was just to hide the pain he felt.  I could see the pain of betrayal behind his kind eyes. I didn't fully understand it, but I sensed the awkwardness, the way everyone avoided eye contact with my dad that next Wednesday.  I'm sure someone gave an excuse as to why none of them followed us to Eric's house as planned, but I don't remember.  I just remember the tension in Eric's voice as he sat in the room of teenagers when we walked in.

"Hey, Jeff," he said, with a smug look on his face.  "Sorry about the other night," he offered, mentally daring my dad to confront him.  I watched my 6'4", confident, built, seemingly untouchable Daddy lower his head like a puppy with his tail between his legs.  I wanted to kill Eric.

Valentine's Day

This was my Valentine's surprise from my boys when I got home from work!

Leaving the garage......

Entering the back door.....

White chocolate covered strawberries AND a Reese's!!!!!

On the wall.....

Card from Izaiah :)

I was too busy loving on my boys to snap the end result picture of finding them, but you get it.  You know what they look like.  Swoon :)

My Eyes Suck

When I was 10 the eye doctor told my mom I would likely go blind by age 18 if I didn't start immediately wearing hard contacts.  Back then contacts were a big deal.  I was the only kid my age wearing them, and one of the only people I've ever known who wore hard ones.  Without corrective vision, I have almost always been legally blind, but could see fine once I got contacts.  I still had to get new ones every few months or so because my vision continually worsened.

By the time I was 25 I wondered if maybe I had exaggerated that part about being told I would go blind, because A.) that sounds silly, and B.) I never went blind.  Two summers ago I talked to an eye doctor who suggested I try switching to soft contacts.  I never knew how how awful hard contacts were until I tried soft ones.  They felt like satin pillows on my eyes compared to the hard ones, and once I tasted how wonderful my eyes could feel, I couldn't go back.  That was in May.  The doctor would special order trial pairs for me and then I would come back to have them checked a week later.  I literally was at the eye doctor every 1-2 weeks until after New Years, having to order new contacts each time.  My eyes got worse and worse and worse.  He said that was somewhat normal at first, but then it got out of control. At one point he told me I am the only documented case of someone's eyes changing so drastically in such a short amount of time the way mine did.  In two weeks my eyes deteriorated more than the average person's eyesight does in a lifetime.  He had to contact manufacturers and specialists because I was the first documented case of this.  I wish that came with my name in a textbook and subsequently, a hefty check.  He said that when I was 10, doctors thought hard contacts would stop my eyes from getting worse because the hard contact presses against the eye and does not allow it to change very much.  This, they thought, would prevent the otherwise inevitable: my eyes deteriorating until I have no vision left.

Research has since taught them that that only prevents the eye from changing while hard contacts are being worn.  Once they are no longer being used, the eye transforms at a rapid rate to the degenerated state it would have otherwise been in if hard contacts had not been used to postpone the loss of vision in the first place.  My eyes finally leveled out after months and months of readjusting to new prescriptions.  Recently they decided to change very quickly again, and they are at a -11.  It's -13 that they stop making contacts in that strength, so I am getting dangerously close to blindness.  My eye doctor tries to reassure me but he acts more nervous each time he looks at my eyes.  They don't carry contacts at the strength mine are now, but they can be custom made, at least for a while longer.  As a result, I have these debilitating headaches several times a week that sometimes 3 Ibuprofen can't even budge.  I'm tired of not being able to read road signs or look at the computer without getting nauseous.   My husband is too handsome for me to go blind!  Dear God, I promise to read more and watch less TV if you keep me from going blind.

This is the closest example that I could find of what my eyes are like before and after I take out my contacts:

BEFORE

AFTER

Loony Bin

Things have been going better with Izaiah.  We are working on all staying home together as much as possible and confined to two rooms of the house.  Izaiah feels safer and has been bonding to me a lot more.  If we leave the house or let others in, Izaiah has a meltdown and we tend to take several steps back.  Mark still won't allow Izaiah and I to be alone together.  He has this enormous feeling of responsibility if something were to happen when he has stepped out.  It's a valid expectation, it really is, based on the things that have happened in the past, but it's also an annoying one.  We are working with a new therapist and it has been going so well.  Izaiah has only gotten aggressive a handful of times since New Years's.  PROGRESS!!!!!!!!

Also progressing (I hope, finally) is the area of school.  We had an IEP meeting and decided Izaiah needs to be in a therapeutic school.  He is still at a beginner's first grade level and seems to learn almost nothing at school.  They try and have been really great, but his needs are more than they can meet.  He was having daily outbursts to the point that it was a normal occurrence for him to assault teachers or the principal, and he would have meltdowns to the point of throwing desks and chairs in the hall while screaming obscenities.  The school would frequently have to go on "lockdown", meaning everyone is confined to their rooms and could not leave until Izaiah had been de-escalated (average de-escalation time = about an hour).  So clearly this was not a good situation for Izaiah, but also not for the other students!

We told Special School District from Day 1 that we would only allow him to attend one of the three therapeutic schools they listed as options.  Working in the Social Work field, I often "know too much" about abuse/neglect that goes on, especially when it comes to schools and residential facilities.  I could tell you (actually I can't) where alleged or substantiated child abuse has occurred and been perpetrated by staff, and which facilities have tried to cover it up or not done enough to protect its students.  So in looking at the three therapeutic school options, that eliminated one for sure, and another after a little investigating.  The school district decided that he could go to either of the two schools we were not willing to allow him at, but would not let him attend the one we wanted.  We had his school principal backing our decision, as well as several Educational Advocates, teachers, therapists, psychiatrist, etc.  It seemed like they were intentionally holding out on us because I was being so insistent about my child not attending the two schools I had concerns about.  I don't know why it mattered so much to them.  They said he would have to receive homebound services - where a teacher would come to the home and work with him on schoolwork for an hour a day - until we could resolve where to place him.  Before the homebound teacher started, they then refused to come out because we declined the first school they offered.

While trying to figure it all out, Izaiah got expelled from his school for hurting another child.  A week and a half and a lot of phone calls later, and a homebound teacher finally started coming out.  In the meantime, lots of emails, lots of phone calls, lots of advocating, and SSD once again seemed to be punishing us for not having him go to the therapeutic school they wanted him at (aka the least expensive and most unsuccessful school), so they took away the homebound teacher.  They said we were not complying with our son's educational needs.  WE weren't complying with his educational needs.  Mark has not been able to work, clean, cook, or run errands and has had to stay home with Izaiah round-the-clock all day every day with no relief and they think this is our idea of ideal?  Poor Mark.  We looked into hiring an attorney and were not getting very far with that.  Finally a director of something at SSD got too many phone calls so allowed Izaiah to be placed at the school of our choice.  Hallelujah!  He was actually super helpful and validated all the decisions we had made.  Where was he a month ago?  We are not sure when Izaiah starts but are hoping it will be this week.  He has been out of school for five weeks now.  

He spent the night with his grandparents last night, and Mark and I did not go on a much-needed date or clean a single thing around the house.  We stared at the TV in a completely exhausted state and we slept.  We were excited to go to the grocery store and get errands run, but we slept too long to do that.  The hugs I have been getting lately from that little boy make it all worth it.  I don't know what we would do without help, though.  We'd probably all be in the loony bin.  Since we have literally frequented the loony bin so many times this year, I think that qualifies me to joke about it....right?