Some people wonder how I can share stories that can be considered negative. Or disrespectful to Preston.  Far from it, in my opinion.

My blogs are real.  This is my life.  This is us. We as a society have been conditioned to look the other way. Or maybe sweep 🧹 things under the rug.  If you don’t talk about, it’s not real, right? Or how about those of us that get up every morning and put that mask on and go about our lives like we are living the American dream?

I refuse to be a part of that conspiracy. It will steal my joy and kill me in the end.  I refuse to look the other way. Just because you choose to push your rose colored glasses a little further up your nose doesn’t mean that life is all rosy.  I’m finding out more everyday that it’s ok to not be ok.

But first, let me tell you how blessed I am. I have what I think is the best husband in the world.  His disability does not define our marriage. God does. I can look at him at times and see the love of my Heavenly Father looking back at me.   Remembering the custom vows that Preston spoke to me on our wedding day are what I hold on to many days.  He promised to love me as Christ loves the Church.  Even on his worst day of his worst brain storms…. he fulfills that promise to me.  Over and over again.

This past Sunday was like any other Sunday, except every bone in me was cracking from spending the day before at the Pumpkin 🎃 Patch.  Preston beat me getting ready and cooked us a wonderful breakfast.  Several months ago, we had to limit Preston’s cooking on the stove when no one else is home.  His brain misfires have him convinced that left is right and right is left.  We learned that while that’s funny going down the road…. it’s dangerous on the stove top. My man has become a crockpot master!  If there were doctorate degrees to be given out in breadmaking and crockpots, he’d be Dr. Dennis.

As I went to enjoy my breakfast at the dining room table, I noticed candles burning in the living room.  My heart rate went up and I asked Preston to please put them out immediately for safety reasons. That maple sausage, grits, and eggs was the bomb 💣!

We go to Church and to lunch at Applebee’s afterwards. We had just got our salads when something(God) reminded me about those candles.  Pulling up our security camera system, I about threw up when I saw the candles blazing.  The flames looked huge. I panicked, showed my tail at Preston and the Applebee’s staff, and flew out the door.

It was a relief to fly up that drive way and see our home still standing.  The only damage was melted wax down the coffee table.  But it made me sick and about did me in.  Especially since I had not yet been able to replenish my “patience” supply from just a few days prior when Preston swore up and down that our washing machine had a little leak.   That little leak ended up being a busted hot water heater.   I kid you not when I tell you that I ended up at my daddy’s house crying and having me a full blown pity party.

This is NOT the life I signed up for.

But who has the life they signed up for?

Today, he had a scheduled appointment with his neurologist, whom we haven’t seen in 6 months.  I love this doctor.  He can always read what is NOT said during this evaluations.  I was hesitant to confess that when some things happened in May, we tried CBD oil on Preston and fell in love with the results.  To my shock, the doctor totally agreed and gave me a website to do my own research and to purchase an even more pure form of what is available in our area.  He advised me to double his dosages that he already takes.  He also increased his mood stabilizers.  My future looks a little more calm than it did yesterday.

Although I already suspected it, The doctor confirmed today that Preston has OCD. I’m not talking about the clean house or quirks. I’m talking about the fact that the man came and hunted me down until he found me eating cereal out of the pale pink bowl that he discovered missing out of the cabinet. Ask my coworkers and they will tell you that I invest in styrofoam cups because of  how anal he can be.   I literally mean it when I say that during the day, he has to pace the length of our home during every single commercial.  I had him at the doctor 3 weeks ago because he developed bone spurs from it.  We won’t even talk about what happened to the grill.   No one of us can understand the thing that causes him to HAVE to read his Bible for hours every single day.  He’s going to make sure that he gives God more than 10% of his tithes AND his day!

He’s my hero.   Some days, I don’t know how he gets out of bed fighting those demons every day.  But he does. And it gives me so much hope  to see him holding on to what awaits him one day.

This is my life.

I definitely don’t love every second of it, but I love the man in it.  And will love him through it.   He’s the ying to my yang.  The peanut butter to my jelly.

I sincerely hope that in reading this, if you’re one wearing the rose colored glasses,  take those things off and stomp on them.  You are missing out on being a blessing to someone.  If you’re someone who chooses to look the other way rather than get involved, reconsider.  God has placed a handful of Christian ladies in my life that I would be lost without having them as a source of encouragement.

Someone’s situation might not be your pig, nor your farm.  But hopefully, we are in the same pasture with the same Shepherd. And that does make it your farm.

As always, thanks for letting me have this blog as an outlet.  I appreciate you taking the time out of your day to read it.

 

God Bless

 

The BeanCounter