Tatum wanted a bite of my odd conglomeration for breakfast yesterday, so she begged to have the same thing the next day. This vs. the protein pancakes, watermelon and egg. It’s really good and she wants it everyday. What have I done? Yes, I know. It’s rice, avo, blueberries, chicken and olive oil all over it. It’s actually very tasty. REALLY.
While we did Math, the birds napped. Simultaneously.
And there was peace before Latin.
Then: Sum Nauta; Nauta Sum. Agricola Sum. Es Agricola. Et Agricola et Nauta.
We started to argue over who was a sailor or farmer. Multiple personality issues here. You had to be there. LOL.
It really couldn’t get better.
But then it did.
You see, we went to Target and all heck broke loose. We laughed so much we almost got kicked out of the store. I felt like I was back in time with my friends at the mall circa 1981.
Tatum insisted we buy the SAME shirts too. It doesn’t get better than this. It was a photo sesh.
Pose darn it. Stop making me laugh you.
We accidentally went up to a guy in a red shirt and realized he didn’t work there. I told him you are not allowed to wear red if you shop at Target. It’s TOO CONFUSING!
Well we had side aches so it def was time to head home and eat lunch. Coopy was glued to the set.
Yes, he is a bit addicted to the screen.
Anyhoo, it was just another day in paradise at the Hay home. More to come. I can’t take it!
Learning to stay grounded when answers are still unclear
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There is a strange tension in healing. Sometimes we need to pay close attention. We need to notice patterns, listen to symptoms, and make wise changes. But sometimes paying too much attention sends us down a rabbit hole of self-focus, overanalysis, and research mode. I am trying to learn the difference between listening to my body and obsessing over it.
Food is one of the places where this gets complicated.
When symptoms are mysterious, even familiar meals can start to feel complicated. I am not questioning food itself. Food is still nourishment. What I start questioning are the ingredients: the dairy, the whey, the cream, the fiber, the fat source, the things I have added back because they helped me survive one season but may not be helping me heal in this one.
And that is the part I am trying not to let take over. I do not want to ignore my body. But I also do not want every meal to become another piece of the puzzle.
Anyone who has lived with lingering, confusing symptoms may understand this. Digestive distress. Stool changes. Inexplicable fatigue. Pain that moves around. A nervous system that seems to overreact to ordinary things. At some point, even a familiar meal can start to get picked apart. Not because food is the enemy, but because you are trying to understand whether something in it might be contributing to the bigger picture. It is exhausting. Trying to figure that out can become a full-time job all by itself.
Is there dairy in that? What about gluten? Was it too much fat? Too little fat? Too much fiber? Not enough fiber? Is this histamine? Is it the timing? Is it the food at all?
Healing can become myopic. It is not wrong to ask questions. Sometimes questions help us find patterns we genuinely need to see. But when every meal becomes difficult, and every symptom leads to more questions, it can create a vicious cycle. You start wondering what you missed, what you should change, what you should remove, or what you should try next. Before long, eating becomes tangled up with the exhausting work of trying to figure it all out.
I do not want to solve a puzzle by creating more puzzle pieces.
There comes a point when you are not sick enough to be in crisis, but not well enough to stop wondering. You feel like you are doing all the right things: Eating, sleeping, showing up, trying to live normally, and then your body does something confusing and life-stealing again. And suddenly, a normal meal becomes something you start trying to decode.
There was a long stretch….and I mean a long stretch…when I would have gone searching for the next answer. A new doctor. A new test. A new supplement protocol. A new theory. I have done all of that. I have spent the money, taken the labs, followed the plans, bought the bottles, tracked the symptoms, and hoped the next answer would finally explain everything.
I wish it were that simple.
I wish someone could say, “It was the dairy. Stop that, and you’ll feel better.” Or, “It was the cream. Remove that, and the itching will disappear.” Sometimes there are pieces of truth in those discoveries. Sometimes a change really does help. But for me, it has rarely been one clean answer with one clean solution.
And at some point, the search for the culprit became a job of its own.
That is the part I am trying to step away from.
Of course, I will still make wise adjustments. I may try a short elimination. I may remove something that seems worth testing. I may add something gentle if it makes sense. But I am no longer willing to live as if the next magic bullet is always one new doctor, lab result, supplement, or protocol away.
There is a kind of hope that comes with anything new. A new plan can feel like a fresh start, and a new doctor can feel like the person who will finally see what everyone else missed. A new protocol can feel like a way out, and sometimes new help really does help.
But the newness of something is not the same as healing. This year, I want to heal in the quieter way God keeps bringing me back to: the basics of eating, sleeping, resting, moving gently, praying, and participating in life.
And yet, I still have to listen, and that is the real tension. I am learning that I can be curious and peaceful at the same time.
Maybe this is not really about food or the mysterious symptoms after all. Maybe it is about the way we live with anything unresolved.
Most of us have places in our lives where we are tempted to keep searching, keep fixing, keep analyzing, keep trying to find the one missing piece that will finally make everything make sense. Especially now, with so much information coming at us all the time. Health can become that place. So can parenting. Marriage. Work. Faith. Grief. Identity. The future.
Yes, many times, we do need to pay attention and make changes. We do need to listen closely enough to notice what is no longer working. But we also need to be careful not to let the search become our new home.
For anyone else living with something unresolved, maybe the goal is not to stop asking questions. Maybe the goal is to ask them from a more grounded place. To stay curious without becoming consumed. To make wise changes without making your whole life about fixing yourself. To keep showing up to your actual life even while you are still waiting for answers. That means having faith in the process and letting God take the wheel of results.
I still want healing. Of course I want a breakthrough. Some days, it’s all I can do to hold on to God for that hope. But I will not lose who I am while I’m looking for more answers.
So for now, I am practicing this: listen without spiraling. Make the wise change slowly and deliberately, not out of panic. I’m not perfect at this. It’s a work in progress. God has a way of gently grounding me when I get off on an extreme path.
My body is not my enemy. And this puzzle, however frustrating, does not get to become the place where my soul abides.
Truly, it ended up being one of those beautifully ordinary days that somehow feels sacred when you’re in it.
School got out Wednesday, and we all slept a bit longer. Hallelujah!
My aunt came over, and it was just so good to sit together and talk. She brought up memories I hadn’t thought about in a long time, and, she helped me see my life with fresh eyes.
You see: Tot saved my life. (Jesus saved it the first time).
Before her, I was on the road to becoming a full-blown Type A mess. Overworking. Overdoing. Over-planning. Over-everything. I thought achievement was the goal. I thought control was safety. I thought staying busy meant I was doing life right.
And then, three months before she was born, Tatum dropped into my lap. Literally!
Everything changed: She interrupted the life I thought I was building and became the life I actually needed. Then Doug came into our lives when she was two, and somehow, piece by piece, God started building something I could have never planned for myself.
A family….A REAL home (not a condo or apartment). A REAL kind of love. Not conditional. ..not performance based.
Doug had the day off today and went on a bike ride, which made me happy for him. We had originally planned coffee together, but honestly, our whole day became this ongoing connection anyway…little conversations, checking in throughout the day.
And Tot and I? We had the best little day.
First she made a protein’y breakfast (I have taught her well) with protein pancakes. (and whipped cream because we put that on everything.
We went to Michaels and wandered around looking at crafts, laughing, taking ridiculous pictures, and being completely unserious. She wanted us to wear matching Crocs because apparently being “twinsies” is still cool at 13. Honestly, I’ll take it while I can.
In Michaels, she’s posing dramatically in the squishy aisle. This was “restock” day, and we had to be there because these sell out immediately. Go figure.
Meanwhile, Coopy lived his absolute best life today playing monkey-in-the-middle with TWO identical tennis balls because apparently one is emotionally insufficient.
And maybe my favorite part?
I felt good today.
Not survival mode. Not forcing it. Just…present. Light. Happy. Grateful.
At level 57, I feel like my life is just beginning; not as the old me trying to do everything, prove everything, hold everything together. But as the new me: softer, freer, and the me God was patiently leading here all along.
These are the moments I used to think were too small to matter. But now I relish these little things.
Happy half birthday, Tot. Thanks for making life fun. And thank you for saving me in ways you’ll probably never fully understand. Thank you HHH for being there steadfast.
Before the day even really began, hubby handed me the smartest, sweetest card: “We’ve been through a lot, but I’m still here.” Honestly, after all these years and all the seasons, that means everything to me.
Then came the last day of finals for Tot. So the ride to school was filled with “Happy Birthday to you” cheers. Math and History. Her hardest ones. She was NOT in the mood to celebrate anything this morning. We drove to school with that finals-week energy hanging in the air. But when I picked her up later, she jumped into the car relieved and proudly announced:
“I’M AN 8TH GRADER!”
Then immediately jumped into the pool in her school uniform.
That pretty much sums up her spirit perfectly.
My mom came over later and spent time with me, which meant so much. Tot and Grandma stood back-to-back comparing heights because somehow Tot is suddenly growing up overnight.
Mom also gave me an incredibly generous gift that left me overwhelmed with gratitude. New clothes are officially coming, and apparently Level 57 is leveling up in the wardrobe department too. (If I can find something that fits!) HA!
Throughout the day, my phone just kept lighting up. Friends. Family. Long-lost friends. Messages from people I haven’t talked to in forever. It felt like little reminders all day long that connection still matters. That people remember you, and that friends are forever even if you don’t talk in years.
I even got to talk to my BROTHER!!
Then hubby surprised me AGAIN with my favorite flowers and another beautiful card.
Coopy adores him too.
He and Tot also got me a Target gift card because apparently everyone agrees it’s time for mom to have some fun clothes
WOW. His cards are better than a new diamond ring. (Wait..what did I just say?) The best part was this:
I didn’t feel good, but I had my family, friends, and this little guy. I just love to stare at him.
Level 57 is looking really, really good. (Well, I have to put on my glasses to see that most of the time. Maybe I should just go glassesless because what you don’t see doesn’t hurt you!) HA!
And I’m deeply grateful for every person who helped make it feel so special.
Summer is almost here. Three more half-days of school, and two of those are finals.
Tatum is ready…ready to be done! She’s ready for summer. Ready for a reset. Ready for what is next.
Next year, she starts at Veritas. It’s a fresh start since she has basically been with the same kids at the same school since she was 5.
We have a busy summer ahead: Algebra. Latin. Reading….and just GETTING READY!
Last night, she told me she feels stuck between two versions of herself.
One version is the “crazy, fun, weird girl” who wears baggy clothes, doesn’t care too much about school or what she wears. The other version is the “smart, pretty, put-together girl.”
OH, wow! That is what they call: Thirteen. That awkward middle. She is now old enough to wonder who she is.
So I told her what I hope she remembers. She can be BOTH! I told her about when I had my first job with Eli Lilly as a pharmaceutical rep. I would get dressed in my cute little suit and heels. (What was I thinking!?) I was polished, prepared, professional, and put together.
I said, “You do not have to shrink yourself into one category just so other people know what to do with you.”
BECAUSE, the second I got home? Hair on top of my head…Face washed, jammies!
And neither version was fake.
We don’t have to choose one! Just so we are still the same person on the INSIDE. .
So I asked Tatum, “What qualities do you want to for sure have? Who do you want to be?”
She said:
Smart.
Pretty.
Kind.
A good friend….(?)
Explain…
Loyal.
A good listener.
Someone who cares about people. (and birdies!) heehee
Okay then, let’s stick to those.
And then I asked, “And a Jesus follower?”
“Yes,” she said. Of course. (That one matters most).
SO THIS SUMMER…is really about….
I think…. preparing her heart.
She does not have to become less fun to be smart, or less weird to be pretty, or less herself to be accepted.
SHE CAN BE: Fully Tatum.
She is just at the beginning of another becoming. I love being on the front seat. I LOVE YOU!
Mother’s Day did not start off picture perfect. (well, does any day!? HA)
I wanted to go to church….I wanted the light, easy day. However, Tatum didn’t feel well, so we stayed home. Doug and I had not the best morning either, and honestly, it all just felt heavy from the beginning.
I blame myself.
I never want to be a burden. I never want to feel like the problem. I want our home to be light and warm and jovial. I try so hard to make it feel that way. I keep it clean. I put out flowers. I make it cozy. I want it to feel like a place people (well, lately, just us) want to be.
But sometimes, with how I’ve felt for so long, I feel anything but light. In fact, many days, I feel dark. Non-functional. Sad. Heavy. (forgive me, Jesus)
And I try so hard not to bring that onto my family, but some days I just can’t hide it. Some days the tears come anyway. Mother’s Day morning was one of those days. It became a bit of a cry fest.
And then… Austin. Whoda thunk!?
Out of the blue, he sent me a text thanking me for making his pops so happy.
What?
That completely undid me because that very morning I had been telling Doug that I felt like I had ruined his life. That I had ruined his chance at happiness with everything I’ve put him through. And then, almost like God let someone else speak into the exact place I was hurting, Austin sent that..those words.
Doug then brought. me a whole bushel of sunflowers. He knows me sooooo well.
They truly do something to my heart. They brighten the room, but they also brighten me. God still knows exactly how to reach me.
And then there was Tatum. Oh, Tatum.
She had been working on an “edit” for me. She loves making videos, and this one was for Mother’s Day. She could not wait to show me. She showed me in the morning when she saw me crying in my bedroom, then added more to it later and told me she was going to show me again that night, so I needed to be surprised.
The video had all these little definitions: Mom. Funny. Best friend. Attractive. Pretty. Beautiful.
It was funny and sweet and dramatic and adorable and perfect.
and there was more!
She ended it with me basically awe-inspired.
Tatum never writes much in cards. Usually I’m lucky if I get a name and a quick note. But this time she wrote. Really wrote…and it was truly from her heart.
She thanked me for always listening to her nonsense, for doing the things that can be overwhelming, and for loving her. She told me she loves me. She called me her everything..JUST wow.
And then came the gifts. Now, I love gifts like the next gal, but these MEANT something.
A whole basket of treasures. A grateful sign (from my HHH), A little crocheted sunflower with a smiley face (HE knows what makes me smile as well as a heart that said, “Always remembered, forever loved.”). From Tot: A puppy stuffed animal. A Woodstock cup. A floral cup. Little glass birds. A pink tree. A mother-and-child figurine that said, “A mother holds her child’s hand for a while but their heart forever.”
And Doug’s card.. He ALWAYS delivers the most precious words.
It was all of the thought. The noticing. The way they knew what would make me smile. The way they chose things that felt like me. The way they kept choosing me on a day when I felt like too much. This was the perfect Mother’s Day.
It started with tears, disappointment, and that awful feeling that maybe I bring more weight than joy.
But by the end of the day, surrounded by sunflowers and my family, this Mother’s Day was not ruined.
It was redeemed.
Epilogue
The next morning (Monday), the ride to school was ANYTHING but peaceful. We were running very late, and Tatum takes the anger she has for herself out on me, and then she admits it..but always after the fact. We sat in the parking lot. (mind you she was now 5 minutes late). I wouldn’t let her go in yet. I held her in my arms as she sobbed. Then I prayed over her and had her wipe her tears. We walked in the office then, head held high. She’s got this. Then…11:25.
