Chapter 29. Cancer

“Strange is our situation here upon the earth… 

Each of us comes for a short visit, not knowing why, 

yet sometimes seeming to divine a purpose. 

From the standpoint of daily life, however, there is one thing we do know: 

we are here for the sake of others…” 

–Albert Einstein

August and September of 1998 brings news that our parents have cancer: my dad, melanoma in his lower colon; Gregg's dad Carl, in his kidney; my mom, breast. Marilyn Wikstrom (sister Kaye's husband Daryl’s mom) dies from brain cancer in early Oct. 

I journal prolifically, so will bullet point key events, especially around the cancer updates, in summary below.

First an update of an overall picture during fall into winter: in addition to trips to Iowa in support of hurting family members, we stay engaged in the everyday.

         

 - Seth, now a high-school senior, takes a post-secondary course at Carleton (Comparative Political Regimes);

-          I continue to teach childbirth education classes;

-          we engage in birthday parties and holiday preparation and festivities;

-          repair our vehicles (water pump replaced in the car, breaks in the truck);

-          nurture our kids through their ups and downs and many games and activities;

-          host a German student for two weeks;

-          continue with marriage and family counseling every other week (Becky and Seth come to a session in early Oct, all the kids in mid-Oct);

-          repair and re-shingle the roof, finding carpenter ant nests that necessitate treatment by the Orkin man to the tune of an unexpected and unwelcome $850.

Relationships blossom and die: 

Seth declares he and Hannah are girlfriend and boyfriend on Sept 11, 

Becky breaks up with a boyfriend on Oct 7, 

Allure asks for a separation from Steve on Oct 9.

Betty & Carl at John & Jeree's wedding

Gregg and I continue to spar and hug, hurt and heal. A timeline below, of some of the cancer craziness, illuminates some of the chaos and heartache apart from the relational difficulties.

Carl

Sept 9, 1998 diagnosis: cancerous tumor on his kidney; treatment: surgery to remove involved kidney; Gregg plans on being with his dad when they do surgery in the next week or two

Christmas 1998

Mom
Nov 2, 1998. Diagnosis: cyst in left breast; treatment: surgical removal

Nov 3, 1998. Find out cyst is cancerous

I wept. I ache so for them both - Mom will be going through radiation while Dad is having his treatments

Nov 3, 1998. Lymph nodes NOT involved

I'm so grateful to God for no metastasis in Mom

Dec 4, 1998. Starts radiation for 3 to 5 weeks

Dad

Sep 10, 1998. Diagnosis: unusual case of melanoma-type cancerous cells in his colon with the tumor being near the rectum; X-ray shows some involvement of lymph nodes in the groin area

Sep 30, 1998. Dad has surgery in Sioux City; he gets permanent colostomy; all us kids are with him

Oct 4, 1998. Finds out that the cancerous cells have spread beyond the tumor and are in the lymph nodes

Oct 8, 1998. Has pain from the surgery and is not adjusting to the colostomy so well; Dad makes comment about wishing he could die

Nov 13, 1998. Discovers one enlarged lymph node, to be biopsied on Monday; he’s had lotsa pain - the surgery site (anal) kept hurting lots - he had an anal fissure. I ache for him and Mom

Nov 20, 1998. CAT scan on Nov 19 shows lung involvement and fast-growing cancer; Dad has such continuous and bad rectal pain that persists, that they're thinking that the tumor is growing back there also. We're all aching. Prognosis is 6 months. Maybe the Europe trip will happen in January?

Dec 4, 1998. Starts radiation – to last 3 weeks; church lines up people to help with rides to Sioux City; constant pain from one of the tumors he has on and into the sacrum and surrounding soft tissue

Europe trip: Dad with his kids, late 1998 into early 1999

Dec 25, 1998. Much pain, but a good sport; sits with the family a couple of hours before retiring to bed; when Dad was asked what he was looking forward to with this trip, he said, "Making my kids happy"

Feb 8, 1999. Dad decides to NOT pursue any additional treatment; has been mostly bedridden for a few weeks

Feb 12, 1999. Mom falls and breaks her right wrist; us siblings take turns staying with Dad and helping Mom

Feb 15, 1999. Hospice care begins; dad is bedridden;

oncologist said he has between 2 weeks to 2 months

Sat, Feb 27, 1999. Many of us kids are ‘home; Dad has vision; last goodbye for my kids

Sun, Mar 7, 1999. 9:45 pm. Dad dies; Gregg drives me to Storm Lake; though Dad dies before I arrive back home I say my final goodbye to his lifeless body as “Arms of the Angel” plays in the bedroom

Somewhere, out at the edges, the night

Is turning and the waves of darkness

Begin to brighten the shore of dawn

The heavy dark falls back to earth

and the freed air goes wild with light,

The heart fills with fresh, bright breath

And thoughts stir to give birth to color.

–John O’Donohue, Matins, To Bless the Space Between Us: A Book of Blessing

Allow me to back up to fall of 1998. Through the illnesses, Gregg and I continue our own heartbreak. There’s lots of tears. My processing continues, ad nauseum, with a portion of it below.

Oct 12, 1998. I've had a tough day today emotionally. I was tearful most of the morning (really, I haven't felt this bad in awhile!); thinking more about the affair stuff...sometimes I still feel so heartbroken... and hurt and sad that both Gregg and my 'good' girlfriend choose other than me...

A week later, while cleaning a file cabinet I happen upon my “Encouragements” folder and start reading some of the notes Gregg had written before the Allure stuff where he called me his “one and only.” There are notes of affection during the previous couple of years too. I feel grieved over what we’ve lost and amazed he could say those words to me while he was involved with her. 

When Gregg comes home from work, upon seeing that I am sad and upset, he asks me what is going on. When I tell him, I want to hear him say sorry (again!) and that he can hardly understand why he did what he did, that he wishes it never would have happened, and then pray with me. Instead he is quiet – doesn’t say anything.

Oct 19, 1998.

I went to bed early (I was hurt/mad). In the morning, it was on my mind and I started weeping. We talked a bit - he said that the reason he was quiet was because his first thoughts when we talked that night before was "well, you did the same thing, wrote me notes or told me that you still loved me when you were 'involved' with Paul." I said that I can see where he thinks of that, and that there are some similarities, but that the Paul stuff feels so much different to me than his Allure stuff.

I said, “I've never loved Paul like you loved Allure” - there was a sexual attraction for a time, but I was mostly attracted to the sweet words and affirmation....he was more of a friend than a lover. 

Gregg asked me why it is that I can't give Paul up. I said that I don't feel it necessary, that I was willing to let him have a friendship with Allure before I knew how intense they were, so why can't I have a friendship with Paul? 
But I am willing to give it up if it seems best to do so.

Feelings of loss are my constant companion. 

   My own loss of purity. 

   The loss of Gregg not being crazy about me, only me. 

   To not be his one and only. 

   To not be his love.

DREAM. Oct 19, 1998. Paul shows up to drive Allure to some other place (and was about 5'5" - just a tad shorter than me). Allure is at our house and we are all being calm and nonchalant about being together. It seems like Allure is in some sort of trouble.

I am anything but calm and nonchalant in waking life. I have an individual counseling session with Maureen on November 3 and she identifies self-pity in me. She reminds me that self-pity is of the darkness and she encourages me to fight and not succumb to it.

I react with an internal “you’re right,” and also lots of shame-related despairing, thinking to myself “here’s one more thing I’ve done wrong." 

Hard to put words to my internal angst over this label of self-pity --- - maybe crushing devastation? I recall sitting in the parking lot after the appointment, tears flowing, wondering if I can make it home.

Overall feeling: I am just one big WRONG!” 

I know in my head that idea – of me as only wrong – is a lie, but battle fiercely internally. About this time, to add to the struggle, I have a bit of a run-in with Gregg’s mom over the breach in relationship from the John and Becky stuff and my needing some space. She speaks abruptly and rather angrily out of her upset and then feels badly. I too feel awful.

Just feeling bad all around.

"Only when we are brave enough to explore the darkness will we discover the infinite power of our light." 

- Brene Brown

Chapter 28. Therapy

Another August 1998 assignment from Maureen is to personify the alcohol - if that drink could talk to me and tell me what it will do for me, what would it say?   

It’d say:

·          “If you quickly drink me down, I’ll give you a tingle, a sweet warm sensation that quickly relaxes you and cheers you.

·          I will decrease your internal discomforts, and give a feeling of pleasure by a fast outpouring of feel-good neurotransmitters.

·          I’ll help you release the day’s tensions; I’ll be reward for the hard work you’ve done all day or week or month. I’ll make ordinary, even tiresome chores more fun since you’ll feel looser and not so pressured or irritable.

·          I will make you more daring and make you feel sexier; give you a liquid makeover from the inside out, a fluidity that you don’t usually have because you’re so uptight, give you a “psychic flight.”

·          I’ll give you relief....sober is dry and uptight, drunk is fluid and liquid and loose - a freedom, giddy and light.

·          I will make you happier with yourself, sending the ‘old self’ away. I will help you forget that you have to do it ‘right’; I’ll give you escape - permission (by taking away some of your inhibitions) to express your anger more readily, to be more seductive or ‘naughty.’

·          I will erase (for a short time) your fears of not doing it right or not being perfect; your fears of being a defective daughter, wife, mother, person; of being rejected or not loved and then abandoned and lonely.

But since I know you want the whole truth, I (alcohol) will also tell you that

·          I’ll also cause you to forget much of what was said or done after you take in some ounces of me. You may have great sex, but you won’t remember. You may say something hurtful in your looseness, but you won’t know that it’s even affected Gregg.

·          I’ll make you ‘messy’ - with foggy eyes, slurred speech, impaired movement, careless words. 

·          I will eventually alienate you from Gregg, causing a lack of respect, causing him to pull away.

·          I’ll cause a built up of toxins in your body, that kill some brain cells, that make you feel muddle-headed in the morning, that tax your liver, that cause depletion of serotonin and other neurotransmitters contributing to a greater depression.

·          I will prevent you from being alive with emotion and from finding resolve, letting you dull pain, fear, and rage.

·          I’ll cause you to postpone squarely facing your pain. I’ll give you a way to self-medicate and put off going to God for your deep yearnings. I will get between you and God, make you feel guilty for going to ‘wine’ instead of Spirit for filling; in fact, I’ll be the substitute so that it hardly occurs to you that there’s any other way, and you won’t have reason or need to learn what the filling of the Holy Spirit is about.

 

And in late August, while hurting and feeling alone, and after thinking and praying long, I appreciate this vision: a picture of largess.

Friday, August 21, 1998

Picture: My large place with you....a plateau of low-growing, wonderfully scented herbs, that release their sweet scents when stepped on (or danced on :)), no muck anywhere in sight, severe clear with dazzling sun, babbling brook of clear, refreshing water tumbling in small falls (one side of this plateau has a rising cliff-like edge) so that quiet pervades with background of moving water sounds. 

We dance, slow at first; you hold me Jesus and pull me in close.  You desire me, I’m your bride. You delight in me, you enjoy me. We swing sometimes, and the movement is so fun and rhythmic, the music from within (You or me, I can’t tell, we’re as one) and uninterrupted. I simply follow your lead, and am so happy to have that lead…

Only in You is my soul at rest; there is no Rock, or fortress; no other entity that will love me always, be my refuge and strength, my tender companion, my faithful lover, my rest, quiet, trust, comfort and confidence.

Therapy sessions happen every other week or so, most often with some time talking as a couple, and also some individual time for us each with Maureen. 

During a September individual session, I explore feelings

·         of inferiority (compared to Allure especially: still there’s an irrational envy of her thighs),

·         of unimportance (with Gregg especially, in that he would pursue another woman), and

·         of being a non-person, or person dismissed.

A first memory comes to mind: the picture of mom shushing me during nap time and me crying myself back to sleep because I couldn’t get up from my nap.

Another memory comes of my mom saying to someone (a sister, or a friend of hers? Not sure who but somehow it got back to me), “What was she thinking?” after she was called by Seth to come to our Storm Lake house to address a question of his. I was away from my three older children at a friend’s house receiving shower gifts for baby Dan. I realize later that my choice to leave the kids with a 7-year old was not wise, but at the time I felt I had no other choice. (Seth really was amazingly capable and responsible; also I think I had asked Mom if she could watch the kids during the baby shower, but she said she had a conflict.)

“What’s the matter with her?” rather summarizes the sense I have of how Mom felt about me, probably/maybe both my mom and dad? Like there is something wrong with me.  Which easily contributes toward my sense of feeling that I really am inadequate, a stupid daughter, a bad wife, a flawed friend, a defective person. 

SHAME.

Maureen urges me to fight hard against numbing out. After a session, Gregg and I talk on the way home.

Gregg said, “So, for you, it’s either pain or numb.”

I half-jokingly, rather more seriously said, 

“You mean, there’s another choice?!”

Either ‘numb’ or ‘pain; is certainly the lesson that I learned growing up.

“The only real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” 

-Marcel Proust

I record our work in therapy – a healing of memory.

September 19, 1998

As Maureen leads me to think about Jesus coming into the situation of the little girl napping, I picture Him coming alongside of me, touching me, drying my tears and talking softly to me, saying something like “what’s the matter...you want to get up?... I can understand that, little people are full of energy! But your momma is tired and needs to sleep some more, so I’ll lay here beside you and we’ll talk....what have you been doing these days?  Riding your trike in the basement, that sounds fun....yep, I’ve been going around the world checking up on all my little girls... do you know that I love you? I do - you are so precious to me, there is no one just like you... I made you, do you know that? I wanted you from the beginning, and I know you and want you to know Me and how much I love you.”

A little bit later Maureen encourages me to envision Jesus leading me out of bed; upon imagining approaching my mom, consider what I’d do. I speculate I’d just plead with my mom for some recognition of my desire to get up, hoping for some words of comfort and empathy. 

Maureen has a couple of different pictures: maybe I’d throw water at my mom to wake her, or pllling my tongue at her to say “look at me, I’m out of bed!” Those would not be my usual gotta-be-nice responses, but I sense such a freedom in actions such as those. At the end of the therapy session, Maureen reminds me of the possibility of “getting out of bed.” I respond with obvious excitement in my voice and body, 

“Really? I get to get out of bed!!??!!” 

I feel excited about not being shushed, about being able to grow up and act adult, about not comparing myself with anyone else or living by anyone else’s rules or desires.

Chapter 27. Rebuilding

~~

Love is our true destiny. 

We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - 

we find it with another. 

- Thomas Merton

Gregg and I continue to grunt and groan in our attempts to communicate.

August 17, 1998

Gregg and I keep plowing forward. We had another confrontational talk Friday and Saturday....but we talked through it. I was telling him how so many things remind me of them (of he and Allure together), even whenever I kiss him (because early on I asked some pointed questions and found out that Allure was a teasing kind of kisser, no tongue most of the time, and I got the impression that Gregg kinda liked that... even when casually kissing I sometimes touch his lips with my tongue... and so I started paying attention as to whether he ever initiated something similar...it seemed to me that he didn't... I've started kissing him differently at times...thinking that's what he desires).

Gregg asserts that I’ll attribute any change that he’s made in the past two years to the affair. I agree that will be my tendency and that I’ll need him to explain to me otherwise. I tell him that I’m sorry, but I feel I can’t believe everything he says. That I know it really grieves him (but he knows too it’s a consequence of lying so grossly to me). That out of extreme hurt I am likely not hearing everything he says now. I hope he can be patient with me.

He also said that I kiss better and do sex better than Allure. I told him thanks for telling me - and that that was the first I'd heard that, and that of course, I wondered whether sex was better with her (I still can think that at times the passion and illicitness of the sex they had was mind-boggling, sin can be incredibly enticing at times...but I believe him when he says – at least maybe in general - that sex is better with me...when something is right, it has a certain sweet satisfaction).

We have another counseling session tomorrow - we're going to start to work more on relational areas (we've mostly worked on individual root problems up to now). I'm so grateful for the input of a discerning, Spirit-filled therapist - it's an answer to prayer! (even though we do have to pay mega-bucks! ;l)

I journal as I think over one of my August assignments from counselor Maureen: to be aware of how Gregg communicated his needs before all this other yuk.

August 20, 1998

How did Gregg communicate any of his need/dissatisfaction before all the Allure stuff? If not with words, then how?

It’s still hard for me to sift through what is just his mannerisms and what is a message for me to pick up on, but here are some guesses at possibilities:

-- retreating to passive activity, i.e., TV because he wouldn’t have to talk, or think?

-- finding some satisfaction/approval with fantasy/porn

-- not initiating much conversation about his personal concerns or fully engaging in conversation, giving me the impression that he’d rather not be talking: by giving short answer, not reciprocating the question, some facial grimacing or sighing?

-- just ‘not doing’ some of the things I’d suggest as ideas, or not discuss them with me; he wouldn’t disagree, just wouldn’t do

-- gaining “space” by letting me or encouraging me to imbibe

-- taking time away from family pressures, by fishing, doing some side job work; maybe looked for affirmation in the side job work

-- really getting into some areas apart from me...designing furniture (occasionally with Allure); pursuing idea of own business (though I think that was after initial involvement with Allure)

-- un-involvement with T-Net (church program) though it seemed he supported my involvement with it

-- criticism toward pastor while I supported the pastor’s work?

-- seemingly not as much interest in spiritual things?

I muse that – even though Gregg still expressed affection, a desire to please, and a willingness to allow me to pursue my interests – it appears Gregg wasn’t feeling fully accepted, that he felt I wanted him to change: maybe especially the way he did spiritual life (devos, or lack thereof, with kids or for himself). I wonder if his struggle with porn stems from finding pleasure in being able to be just the person he wants to be in that fantasy world: fully appreciated and loved. I realize that Allure maybe offered that to him. She thought he was incredible. I can understand the draw of affirmation and attention; being thought of as “one in a million.” While he was feeling defective around me, he felt empowered, appreciated, and magnificent around Allure.

More August 20 journaling:

I am trying to face up to that idea that I didn’t make him feel like a man in some big ways.

o    That my pride and my need for ‘perfection’ from self and those around me - and my expression of ‘just one more thing’ or that there’s always something more to strive for - tired him out, discouraged him, took all the wind out of his sails, conveyed a disrespect and unacceptance of his person.

o    So, that when someone else offered an appreciation of his person and an escape from the ordinary, it was enough of an attraction to take him away.

o    Also, I realize that he tired of feeling like his efforts to be all that he thought I needed him to be were never enough (and I know that despair, just recently feeling it).

o    And that he tired of my depressive tendencies, of trying to cheer me and not being successful (in the long run), and maybe tired of me needing him so (comments like ‘don’t you dare die first, I’ll be so mad,’ or ‘I couldn’t manage without you’).

I can feel like David writes about - like my insides are melted...so distraught and devastated.

The deceit and betrayal, and that he loved another woman so, tears me apart.

How can I not feel rejected? I have been rejected....

But not by You Lord.

Oh, help me to remember that. You will never leave me nor forsake me, you have set my feet in a large place (Ps 18:19, 31:8, 118:5)

Oh God, you have brought me to freedom! Freedom from idolizing my husband, freedom from the chains of sin and trying to please myself or others. Help me remember. Spirit fill ‘to all fullness’.

And when they ask us what we’re doing, you can say, We’re remembering.

That’s where we’ll win out in the long run.” 

- P 164, Farenheit 451

Chapter 26. We work

Ed Appleseth

To do what needs to be done – to work – is likely part of my genetic structure. I come from an upline of business owners and farmers, pioneers and homesteaders. I offer a few of their stories. [There are many more accessible via our ancestry.com trees.]

On my dad’s (George) side:

- George’s father: Edward Appleseth established a produce business in Clarkfield, MN in 1918 – at the ripe age of 25 years old -  that he continued to operate until he died in 1955. Ed homesteaded for a couple of years in northern Minnesota before settling down in the produce plant. 

A 1951 Clarkfield Advocate full-page ad reveals, "In the early days the present produce station housed the egg and poultry business, along with the tire vulcanizing and sales service... Where the present Jean and Walt's cafe is location was in the beginning used for the cream station... James operates the Produce plant and, at present, George does the trucking, but plans to attend college this fall. Roy is in charge of the farm near Boyd." 
Aunt Jean commented, “other people would go to church, talk politics, watch baseball games; not the Appleseths, they were all work, work, work.”

- George’s grandparents: “The Appelseth story: A time of pioneering” is told in a centennial special article of the Clarkfield Advocate. It was written in 1984 by Inga (Mrs. Russell Johnson), the youngest child of Johan (1859-1930) and Johanna (1860-1912), who immigrated from Norway to America in spring of 1884.

Their life adventure involves a three-week steamboat trip, arrival at Ellis Island, travel to Chicago, and then on to Minnesota. Next up was work as a farm hand and carpenter for Johan and as a household laborer for Johanna, with marriage in fall of 1884. Residence at Johan’s brother Ole’s place followed until they could purchase land, first 40 acres and later 80 acres at $9 an acre. There was the building of a sod dug-out and barn next, followed by eventual pay-as-you-go five-bedroom wood house three miles south of Clarkfield. They made their own farming implements; Johan raised chickens and cows and did the field work, walking behind a horse-drawn cultivator or walking plow.

Johanna spun wool fleece into yarn, knitted socks and mittens, cooked for her family and the threshing teams, butchered cows and pigs and chickens. Together they birthed 11 children, 5 of whom grew to adulthood. 
Inga concludes the article with “Our parents were sustained by their faith, and in spite of their hardships, they looked forward to a brighter future for their children.”

On my mom’s (Adeline) side:

George Hubbard house, Wethersfield 1637

 -Adeline’s great, great, great, great, great, great, great, great grandfather: Way, way back in the Puritan days, George Hubbard (1594-1683, my 9^th great grandfather) and wife Mary (Bishop, {1605-1676}, married in 1624 or 1627) immigrated from England with their two children Mary and John (John is my ancestor, born circa 1630 or 1633), to the Massachusetts Bay Colony in 1633. More of their story can be read here. In short, they traveled inland, endured a bitter cold winter and subsisted on acorns and malt and grain. George surveyed the Wethersfield area in 1639 and ultimately purchased land for Wethersfield from the Indian chief Sowheag of the Mattabsestts, Wongunks  or Blackhills Indians in 1639 (signed confirmation of the purchase on 16 June 1665 in Guilford, CT). George settled in Milford, CT in 1639, moving in 1650 to Guilford. CT.

Adolph Hartfiel, 1865-1939

-Adeline’s grandfather: Adoph Hartfiel (1865-1939, my great grandfather) came to America with his parents in May 1873. His family lived on a farm in Faribault County, MN until May 1878, when they moved to Yellow Medicine County. The year before, Adolph's father, Wilhelm. had visited the county and filed homestead claims. Grandma tells the story of Wilhelms’s three sons –

Emil Hartfiel, 1861-1891

Emil, Adolph (both eventually husband to Emma, my great grandmother), and Theodore – while in their early to late teens, lived in separate shanties one winter to be able to keep adjacent homestead claims. The neighbor ladies baked bread for them. Tougher times were just ahead. In the fall of 1880 “one of the famous prairie fires swept over the vicinity and destroyed all the possessions of the Hartfiels except the house. During the “snow winter” the family ran short of provisions and like many of their neighbors were obliged to manufacture their flour from wheat in a coffeemill. Hay and straw supplied the fuel, and Adolph remembers that during that winter he was obliged to carry straw on his back a distance of half a mile that the house might be kept warm.” (History of Yellow Medicine County, published 1914)

“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant: 

if we did not sometimes taste of adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.”

- ANNE BRADSTREET, Meditations Divine and Moral

Though life seems rather crazy in our 1998, we too work. We do what needs to be done (enduring far less hardship than some of our forbearers’ hardship).

We work our jobs.

We work our relationship.

We tend our family.

We relax and recreate.

Thankfully, there is some normalcy, and some play mixed in with the work.

We continue our family tradition of taking a Minnesota state park camping vacation – this trip is to northern Minnesota iron ore country. We enjoy time together in August: for many years our camping time away happens solely in the first couple of weeks of August, after summer soccer ends and before school sports practice begins. But we cut our leisure short by a day or two due to an unhappy eldest son with typical adolescent desires to be with friends rather than family, and who is also kinda depressed about a girl. It brings his sister down, which then affects the younger boys - normal family stuff, I think?

We have a ‘typical’ Sunday: during a late summer 1998 Sunday afternoon Gregg and I watch racing on TV and go to a church softball game at the park, Gregg fishes with Danny (age 10) and friend, Mark (13) watches TV, Becky (15) goes to a friend’s house, Seth (17) sleeps after most likely being up all or most of the night gaming.

We continue learning. I persist with my childbirth education teaching, and educating myself: I go to a small group gathering where childbirth educator author and visionary Suzanne Arms gives a presentation on the future of birthing in America. I relate what she says about birthing and stressors to my ‘problems’ – egoic me can make most anything about me. In greater kindness to self, maybe I’ll say here that I keep trying to understand self.

August 3, 1998

Suzanne says we have done our society a great disservice in separating mom and baby so much after birth and in the first year, and medicating babes with drugs used during labor - it causes the wee ones to pump out stress hormones too many and too soon, and screws up their little mechanism that is able to shut off the stress hormones when it gets to be too much.

Personally, I believe that is some of my problem, as there was much separation between my mom and me when I was a baby, and there was little tenderness through my growing up (along with mom being heavily drugged for my birth, and bottlefeeding me).

I believe that contributed to a messed-up regulatory system of cortisol and adrenaline: which causes some damage to brain cells and neurotransmitters; which also affects emotions; which predisposes me toward depression, anxiety, and lower impulse control.

That doesn't give me license to not work at mastering my impulses; with God's help I will move the direction of self-control and service. But, it does help me understand things a bit better.

I continue to work at fighting the depression within and attempt to piece together what effects my childhood environment had on me. Looking back, I realize that maybe there were similar emotional struggles within my mom, though it seemed to manifest – in her 1960s childrearing years – as anxiety that was primarily treated with tranquilizers (I believe anxiety and depression are close cousins). Seems like the anxiety contributed to some separation from intimate relating with me and all her kids.

I’m pretty sure there was a hefty dose of separation around my birth too. I read, in some of the literature I’ve found among mom’s stuff: that upon admittance to the hospital in 1957, a laboring mom was first given a combination of morphine and scopolamine “twilight sleep” that took away memory of the labor, then she was offered an anesthetic or sleeping pill, and then a “saddle block” spinal anesthesia to relieve any pain of late labor and pushing (that often caused an inability to push and necessitated use of forceps). She was drugged up, indeed.

Grandma & Grandpa's house (P. Just's) during our childhood visits

To complicate matters, when Mom was laboring with me, Dad needed to take firstborn Cindy from Brookings, SD to Clarkfield, MN for Grandma (Ursula) to take care of her. As he traveled, he encountered a snow storm. Mom casually mentions, in a 1995 birthday note to me that Dad barely got back for my birth. “Course I was in the hospital all day before you were born.” Some anxiety from the beginning, I'd say.

At least he got back for the birth.

I don’t really know what effect those specific events had or have on my present emotional struggles. I can merely speculate. 

So I work with what I know or have or am. 

I continue to experiment with depression medication: taking myself off occasionally and paying attention to emotions and relational dynamics. Off the Zoloft (SSRI-selective serotonin reuptake inhibitor) I feel more irritable, and acknowledge the irritability and abruptness to Gregg, and express my appreciation of his love and tenderness.

August 11, 1998. Note to Gregg:

Thanks for being willing to work at accepting me - a very imperfect woman and wife.....I've totally given up my delusion of being the 'girl of your dreams'....I'm accepting that I'll never be enough for you - ONLY GOD will...and ONLY GOD will be enough for me too. 

Though it can sometimes be difficult to be wholly attentive at my paid work as secretary to the Director of the St. Olaf Bookstore, out-of-the-home work is mostly a good distraction and brings some needed affirmation. I appreciate and record some words from Dan, my boss, at my first-ever performance evaluation.

I am needing to hear these positives.

August 18, 1998

"Your diplomacy in facilitating communication between me and my reps, vendors, staff, college colleagues has been excellent."

"Your communication skills including not only use of language both written and verbal, but sensitivity and tact, are superb."

"Your workplace style and behavior are above reproach, in fact a model for others to emulate. You're all business at the appropriate times and yet 'one of the gang' at others."

"Your ability to maintain a high standard of productivity regardless of where I am, is a testament to your understanding of your position as it relates to mine and others on my staff."

"You think well on your feet and can change direction with no advance warning. You fit in well assisting me as a change agent on both campuses."

"Aside from the specifics already discussed, what I value most highly about your performance is your ability to assimilate information quickly and turn out a quality product with dispatch."

Chapter 25. Retreat again

In early August 1998 I go on a one-night retreat at a bed and breakfast. Gregg generously encourages me to get away like this, and he takes care of the family. Through the years he has always been good about minding the home front when I go on trips with siblings or get away by myself.

It wasn’t just for the occasional trip or retreat that Gregg took care of the family. After fourth baby Dan was born, I relayed that I was

-      under water - my words at the time were "I'm drowning!" -  as I tended to our four little ones plus care for my sister Kathy's newborn Katelyn,

-      feeling trapped as we had NO financial margin, and

-      feeling abandoned when he’d go out fishing until 2am (though he left after the kids were in bed, he was tired during the evening hours when he was with us. But the fish were biting!)

After the questionaire administered by my physician (and dear friend, Dr. Tim Daniels, who was the inspiration for Dan's middle name) suggested I was depressed in early December 1987, we established one night per week away for me. Gregg cooked supper, so I had the night off from meal preparation and kid care, and I would usually go to the library, where it was quiet and no one demanded anything of me. 

The childrens’ constant needing me was most difficult for this introverted mom, so much so that, in addition to one night away per week, to stay sorta sane I needed to reframe often: as the kids pulled at me I would bring to mind the verses in Psalms on waiting on God, where to wait means “to adhere to” like a child clinging to its mother’s legs.

“Our soul waits for the Lord; He is our help and shield.” 

- Psalm 33:20

I occasionally get away for restorative time. Gregg has kindly aided me in making that happen; he has been good to me in numerous and consistent ways over the years.

On this late summer 1998 retreat I do a few self-care activities like take a warm bath, enjoy the visual pretties of a Victorian-decorated space, relish quiet, appreciate the thick feather pillows, delight in great food that someone else cooks. 

I sit in yearning silence with God. I feel devastatingly undesirable. I listen for the messages that might feed my soul. 

Aug 1, 1998.

I told God that most of all, I feel my soul longs to be a person that is desired.

God led me to lots of different Scriptures, with this one being one that I'll really repeat to myself over and over again:

"The Spirit whom He has caused to dwell in us, jealously desires us, and He yearns for the Spirit (to be welcome) with a jealous love." 

–James 4:5 (Amplified version)

In other words, God wants us to want Him as badly as He wants us....but note, He really wants me! I so rejoice in that! Isn't it wonderful?

"You are - we all are - the beloved of the Beloved One and in every moment, in every event of life, the Beloved One is whispering to you exactly what you need to hear and know. 

Who can explain such a mystery?

It simply is."

 -Rumi, Light Upon Light