failing.

its 2019.  and i, always a resolutionist, have scoured and wracked my brain for what i want.  what i want to do, to accomplish, to be this year.  and to be honest, i haven't come up with much yet.

1. run our local towns race in June
2. a night away with Christian (havent done this yet in our two years of being together)
3. slow down


and maybe that's why i haven't tacked things on, maybe i don't want to look at a long list of things i didn't accomplish or didn't get to, things i failed at again.





i'm on a break from instagram.  i am terrible with instagram, for some reason i can see past so many social media platforms- i don't use snapchat anymore, facebook is a rarity, but man that instagram gets me. 

the beauty, the hilarity, the poignant.  it's all there.  inspiration and life tips, cardi b, it's all so accessible.  and i spent a lot of time on it. 

then christmas season started.  and my feed was suddenly 50 trees all lit with garlands, families posing and smiling, and so in a moment of "if i see one more freaking gingerbread house before christmas comes, i will lose it!  NO ONE EVEN LIKES MAKING GINGERBREAD HOUSES AND THEY TASTE LIKE TRASH" i deleted the app and it's not reinstalled yet. although in all honesty, i hopped on after christmas via safari and scrolled, caught up on kulture, you know the important things.

but my break from instagram went deeper than just a break from other peoples highlight reels.  because something embarrassing happened when we moved into this house and i have just realized it in the past month or so. 

when we moved, i paid for our bedroom walls to be painted white, because everyone i follow on instagram had white walls and they are the BEST, right boo?  the best, so clean and pristine.

guys - i hate my white walls.  hate them.  i can't rest, they feel sterile, like my eyes are constantly bouncing because it's so reflective.  and because i have lofted ceilings, it's not really like a paint it yourself kind of deal.  so here i am 31 years old and painting my house to be like someone else, to emulate someone else.  and that's embarrassing, and messed up. 

and i need a break, i need to know who i am, at my core.  without the distraction of looking at everyone else's capsule wardrobe, toddler meals, wall colors (LOL), book list to read. 

what does bria weigle barber want?  because somewhere along the way in this journey, i started censoring myself again.  i came out of my pain a little bit and honestly, just desperately wanted to return to normal.  i wanted to be normal.  i let what i think other people think about me LIMIT my own actions.

are you getting that?  i let what i think other people think limit me.  i spend more time thinking about what other people will think about what i post, like, follow, or write than i do actually posting, liking, following, or writing. 

i didn't want to be the girl whose first husband passed away from suicide.  i didn't want to be the girl whose ex-father in law writes her emails about how her children suffer under her care.  i didn't want to live all these uncomfortable and painful truths that somehow i found myself living.  i didn't want to be the prodigal girl that returned to the church.  i didn't want to be the girl that still drinks to much even though she always regrets it.  i didn't want to be the girl who hasn't seen half her family for most of her life, whose mom passed away, the girl who felt unlovable, who still feels that way, the girl who wished not to be here, the girl who sometimes feels like she can't move because of depression.

who i don't want to be can go on and on.  but i have to own my truth.  and for whatever reason (i like to think it's because God works through suffering and he is going to work through me) this is my story. 

pain is still pain, and sometimes when it becomes manageable pain.  when you aren't drowning in pain, it becomes easier to stifle, to ignore, to pretend.  in the beginning, i had no choice but to be raw, to be vulnerable, to be real.  and sometimes when you have been in really deep pain, going back into it seems scary, like there is anything else i would rather do than sit in my pain and be okay with it and then come tell you about sitting in it via blog and public platform where people can pick it apart and ask me questions about it. 

and so this is my resolution.  in 2019, i'm not going to be afraid of pain.  i'm not going to limit myself by what i think others will think (that phrase gets me every time), i'm going to hit publish on my raw and on my real, and i am going to stay the fuck off instagram. 

here's to 2019!

six.

six years ago you were placed in my arms.  all 4lbs15oz of you, tiny and perfect.  a culmination of love. 

six years ago, it seems like we have lived a lifetime together in those six years.  four houses, two states, three schools, three siblings, two dads.  it's been a ride. 

but i want to tell you about what i am thankful for addy, because most of all- i am thankful for you.  you, who being the spitting image of me is constantly causing me to grow.

you whose heart is sensitive and caring.
you whose aptitude for language and reading is beyond her years.
you whose joy and infectious laugh brings a light to every day.
you whose generous spirit does its best to make everyone feel included.
you whose unique sense of identity shines through in her ever changing hairstyles.
you whose developing determination is proving how well you can stick with something.


i love you.
i promise to do my best.

happy happy birthday sweet girl!!!
i love you,
mommy

Praise Him for He is good, His love endures forever

there were so many sundays that i sat in church and heard about how God will bring us through the darkest of times.

there were so many moments that i was out figuratively in the wilderness, wondering if and when i would break through to the other side.

i would sit and believe in my heart that the dead would raise and that life would come back but never in a million years did i think it would be quite like this.




that i would know the joy of sitting in a church service and listening to a sermon "life conquers death" and hear "all suffering is temporary" and know in my heart that i had been delivered successfully out of my suffering.

two years ago i typed: never in my life has the gospel made so much and so little sense to me 

and now two years later i am a living manifestation of the gospel of the love of God.  a God who saw me in a very, very dark place and chose to let me continue to a place with no hope to display His hope to me.  a God who in His MERCY allowed me to suffer that I might know the full and deep joy that comes after when one chooses to follow Him.


I can't explain it logically to you all, I can't give an algorithm as to why it's true.  I know only the eternal hope that lives in my heart.  I know the beating heart that transplanted the heart of stone that existed before.  I know the grace and mercy that follow me in each and every interaction with my children. 

and ya'll, for the first time in my life, I get the joy.  I understand and feel the true JOY that comes from Him. 

May this day stand as a testament to future days when I don't feel it.  May this stone never cease to worship the consistency and faithfulness of our Father in Heaven.  and may my Hope in Him be ever on display.  For I have been delivered out of a pit of despair and now sit in a valley of peace.

pregnancy

current morning routine 

making breakfast for addy and lane, getting them to school.  i usually try to drink a glass of water in this time period and may or may not eat.  once they are at school, i usually enjoy the silence for a while, sometimes i journal and fall back asleep, sometimes i use my "computer time" at this point to catch up.  my morning are definitely about easing into my day.

how does this pregnancy differ

this has been my hardest pregnancy physically.  energy wise i was completely depleted at around 30 weeks and have now stopped working and am still enjoying the benefits of full time childcare until the summer.  i never went through pregnancy not working/watching my own children before so that is a lot different.  i've completely taken pressure off myself and am resting so much.  it's been hard to connect with Christian when all i want to do is crash at 9pm and sleep till the morning.  i've definitely had to be gentler with myself so i have energy for kids/man.

cravings

typical, pickles, vinegar, spicy, carbs, ice cream has been a huge one.  it's a constant cycle of i'm hungry/i ate too much and have heartburn.

current state of mind

excitement and exhaustion.  when the end is in sight it's a very weird threshold to be anticipating.  in a couple weeks, i'll be holding a baby again.  we'll see the face and how much it looks like or doesn't look like addy/lane.  

looking forward to

holding my baby, a beer, walking without waddling, the burst of energy that comes after the initial healing period, not getting heartburn, holding my baby, breweries, fitting into clothes

on being a blended family 

this is one of the more unique situations that i think you can experience as a family.  obviously with their father being gone i have addy and lane all the time and so we focus a lot of all of us together.  it makes it a lot easier in a lot of ways and adds a layer of complexity that most people don't encounter in typical blended situations.  so far everyone is super supportive and loving which is great.

2 years

hi baby,

when I got home from dropping your siblings off at school today, I went through all the pictures I had of you.  From the video of your birth to the fire station, it took me about an hour.  There's no one I can look at and say, remember when she was born and we held her?  Remember what it was like to look at our daughter for the first time?  It feels empty still, not as bad as last year, but empty nonetheless. 

Last year I went and had my taxes done on your birthday, something I had been putting off, overwhelmed by, and to be honest, frightened of.  This year, my taxes are done already.  Who knows, maybe next year I'll do my taxes myself.  It has been this weird journey, trying to put myself back together, knowing how fragile I am.  Finding pieces of myself that I had forgotten about or didn't know where there.

I don't know if I am quite to celebration yet.  It is hard to remember the beautiful moments we had together without looking at the countdown clock in the background.  Five weeks is not enough time for moments to slip by or memories be forgotten and then recalled.  I remember every moment we had together in visceral detail.  Since then I have lived the 5 weeks, 20 times over, apart from you in every second.  Since then I have lived details and forgotten them, had beautiful, sweet moments with the kids that have already slipped from my memory because I have the privilege of "more." 

I don't try to live our moments together a lot, it hurts too badly, I slip too easily into only remembering that day.  Instead I do my best to stay firmly grounded in the present, but it doesn't mean you weren't important to me and it doesn't mean I don't love you.  I carry my love for you like the roots in the soil, there are so many beautiful things that remain unseen.  That is my love for you.  I carry my love for your like the currents deep in the ocean, like the clouds above our vision.  That is my love for you. 

And so today, Elly, I will make some small goals and accomplish them.  I will pick up fresh flowers and put some on my nightstand.  I will think of you more often than not and I will look forward to when I get to see you again.  Can you believe, we already have two years down?  I am counting down the days till I see you baby.  It is a long time, longer than most have to wait, but I am excited because I know it will happen.  I know you will give me a hug and say you were okay.  That you were safe while we were apart.  That you knew you had my love when I wasn't there to show it.  Ellery, I so badly wish I could celebrate with you today, I so badly wish we were together in person and not just in our hearts.  I wish my love for you was shown every day like it is for Addy and Lane. 

You are loved sweet girl.  Please give your dad and grandma and great grandma a hug and kiss from me and Addy and Lane.  We all miss you all so much.  I know you will have fun celebrating today. 

Till we are together again,
Love,
your mom

my experience with anxiety, PTSD, and managing symptoms

i have struggled with anxiety for a long time.  in high school and college, it manifested itself through an eating disorder.  i remember my senior year of college, i would literally spend hours and hours filling out every online application available.  not even taking the time to fill them properly, or check if the job was a good fit, but rather just throw my name out into the universe as if a blanketed approach of my name would guarantee safety and security.

i was in therapy my senior year, i got a roommate to help manage my availability of purging, and eventually i found a job.  anxiety continued to be beneath the surface for me.  many times while we were married, jim would comment on how miserable i could make an entire weekend just by having an issue and not being willing to confront it due to my fear.

throughout the three years of being a stay at home mom, i started learning about alternative methods to handle it, meditation, running, essential oils.  my life seemed to be going pretty well, and i finally let go of the fear of waiting for the other shoe to fall. 

after they died, i most definitely slipped into a state of PTSD.  the sounds of sirens or people screaming would undo me.  i remember Addy would have these screaming fits and i would just be unable to cope.  several times, we would be in the car, she'd be screaming, and i would just count down the minutes till we made it home.  i would run inside the house and start screaming and punching pillows until exhausted and i felt i could safely and effectively parent them again. 

i would regularly have anxiety attacks, crying to the point of hyperventilation, feelings of absolute hopelessness.  but eventually, they subsided... it took probably close to a year for regular ones to stop popping up.  a lot of it, i credit to the stability and calming presence Christian brought to my life, i also stopped drinking for thirty days last may which seemed to help and i continued with self-discovery, internal healing (chiropractic and supplements) and braintap (which i can't recommend enough). 

typing all that to say, when i got pregnant.  i knew that i would eventually have a breakdown.  i didn't know when, i thought maybe it would wait until after i brought the baby home, but i've been waiting, watching the clock tick by on the weeks...  12 weeks and no panic attack, 20 weeks and no panic attack.

this past week, i've been off, i've felt it.  this wave that was building and building.  i've felt like crying most days for no reason, i've been panicky and short.  thursday on my way to work, i drove past a house that was in a crisis.  ambulances, fire trucks, and police cars parked on the lawn - lights blazing, officers in heavy black boots and serious faces stomping in and out of the house.  it almost happened then, but i managed it, texted christian, it took a couple hours but it subsided.

last night i was laying in bed, kids, dogs, and christian all sleeping soundly.  and the reel started playing.  the reel of reality of watching my daughter die, of going to a fire station with her broken body, of never bringing her home, of my husband dying.  and it happened, this overwhelming feeling of "i can't i can't i can't" i can't bring a baby home, what if something happens, what if i make a mistake, what if i can't be a good mom, christian would hate me, our relationship would fall apart.  i can't i can't i can't. 

the fear is very real.  the panic is very real.  a lot of people have wondered, how i'm managing this pregnancy, how i am holding up mentally.  it is no small feat to lose so much and then go through similar motions.  there are so many feelings of not deserving the things i have because i lost so much, an undue feeling of blame and despair. 

but i made it through.  i let the wave crash as terrible as it was.  i eventually slept and eventually woke up today.  i don't know if i will ever not have anxiety as part of my life.  but i manage it now, i see it clearly for what it is when it comes.  it is not a friend, a coping mechanism, or a managing tool.  it is a crippling tool of defeat and slavery. 

it's ok to be honest about having anxiety or PTSD, it's ok to struggle, to wake up in a cold sweat with racing thoughts.  but it's also ok to get better, to seek help when you need it, to be honest about what you need, want or desire in those moments. 

pregnancy after loss and writing when it doesn't hurt

it is so difficult for me to write in the midst of joy, or of normality.  after jim and elly died, i was able to write these compelling and heart-wrenching essays without any thought, or really any effort.  it was more of a compulsion, a need to share. 

what am i in the middle of right now?  freezing temps and a touch of SAD, aligning my actions with what i am deeming to be priority for our family, financial goals and getting financially right after purchasing a house.  re-aligning the structural unit of our family.

it is a pretty common occurrence, that when a parent passes away, the eldest child will normally step into the role, or do their best.  addy did this for me, comforting me in the night when i was sobbing, in the day, i would unconsciously run things past her - not used to no longer having my partner to speak with. she went through the unthinkable with me and out of everyone, bore the brunt of the tragedy with me.

the past six months or so, we have had to re-route her back to childhood as we best know how.  reminding her that she is five, she no longer makes rules, and it is not her job to protect me.  i think that's how everyone in my family feels.  we are all stepping back into or defining new roles.  christian as a step-parent, me as someone's partner, and my children as exactly that- my young children.  when all of my words are used to explain how i feel to my partner, or all my thoughts are used in an untangling of myself and journal entries, i have so little to type out, so little to share.  we are in such a fragile time and as such, are in a protective time, a time of fostering what our family is.





and then there is the babe, the promise of things yet to be.  my pastor asked us to define our 2017 and pick a word for 2018.  2017 was renewal for me, "an instance of resuming an activity or state after an interruption"

i am not sure i have picked 2018 yet.  my emotions flurry around excitement, anxiousness, and just genuine joy.  my goals are small but mighty, 

to rely on internal renewal through the spirit to be more present and more patient for my children.  my own efforts fail in a mighty way but the fruits of the spirit have been renewed and i see so much evidence of that recently.  

to align my actions with my priorities and to stop forcing bricks into the wrong spot, instead allowing things to be presented in their own time.  



2017 held the greatest gifts i have ever received.  for that received after loss, the vulnerability of feeling the cruel, tentative grasp we have on life and allowing love back in is more valuable than the naive, blind understanding that love is ours for the taking.