Update on Tucker

On Christmas night, my little brother, Tucker Hoss, attempted to end his life. We were having a Christmas party at Savannah's house, and he went home without much notice, which isn't unusual for Tucker. He was found on the floor with a bullet wound and a gun lying beside him. He was still alert but in pain. 911 was called and he was brought to Goodland. There he was intubated and sedated so he would be calm, and relieved from his pain. After a few hours of waiting, Tucker was flown to Denver where he is currently receiving treatment. He seems to be stable, and the bulk of his treatment is pain management and infection prevention. Mentally, Tucker seems fine. He's been cracking jokes, flirting with his nurses, and talking with his family members. Tucker's biggest challenges now are some bleeding in the brain, heavy swelling of his eyes and face, the possibility of permanent blindness, and anxiety relating to not being able to see where he is.

When Tucker was alert enough to talk, Mom and Dad told him about why he's in the hospital--by the suggestion of his psychiatrist--Tucker told them that he had been thinking of suicide but didn't think he would go through with it. No one noticed any warning signs, or anything strange.

It's hard to see him in so much phsyical pain. It's unbearable to know that prior to the incident that he was in so much mental pain he felt suicide was the only way to make it stop... and so sad that he didn't talk to us so we could let him know how much we love him or so we could get him help.

Even though Tucker has a long way to recovery, we're so glad that he's still with us, so that now we can tell him how much we love him. God worked a miracle by keeping him with us this long, and I can't thank God enough for that miracle.

Please, take the time to pray for him. Pray for his recovery--mentally and physically, pray that he can feel God's overwhelming, restorative love, that he will know how many people care for him, that some of his sight will return, and that he will keep progressing towards living a full, long, healthy life.

Redefining Failure-Suicide Attempts

Suicide attempts.

Success.

Failure.

Over the last few days, all I've been able to think about is my baby brother, life, death, God, heaven, hell, and suicide.

It's strange to me that when someone survives a suicide attempt, it's referred to as a failed attempt.

Failed.

As if the intentions of someone so ill that death seemed the only cure could determine the description of the act.

 Because "failure" the greatest success that could possibly follow a suicide attempt.

"Failure" is another chance at life.

"Failure" is a chance at treatment.

"Failure" is the beginning of a new life.

"Failure" is life-changing.

"Failure" let's us tell him how much we love him.

We prayed for "failure."

We begged God that he would "fail."

We consider "failure" a miracle.

I thank God every second for "failure."

For anyone to ever refer to a suicide attempt as a failed attempt is the height of ignorance. No success comes from a person falling to suicide, and no failure comes from surviving illness.

 Suicide is a symptom of a disease. A person must have suffered so much at the hands of mental illness to consider death a cure to life.

Society fails us when suicide is attached to the person and not to the disease. How ridiculous would it be for someone to say there was a failed attempt at cancer? No one would ever say there was a failed bacterial infection, or a failed pneumonia, or an attempted death of natural causes.

We live inside our minds.

We need to create a culture where mental health isn't stigmatized. I want to live in a world where a coworker or classmate would be just as comfortable telling me about seeing a therapist for depression as telling me about seeing a doctor for a flu.

But, for now, it's not. So here I am, thanking God for "failure."

How to kill, butcher, and process a deer: a short (18 step) guide

1. Buy or apply for a tag. I bought a hunt your own land tag, which meant I could get either a buck or doe whitetail or mule deer. (Make sure to bring a zip tie or some twine… that will come in handy later!)
2. Get your guns!... and your ammo! Make sure to get a caliber large enough to kill the animal. My gun of choice is a 2-70, but that’s not what I used this year.
3. Dress in orange for safety. There are so many hunting accidents that would be avoidable if people took the appropriate safety measures. My brother, Dakota, explained why wearing orange won't hurt your stealthiness: apparently deer don’t see orange very well, so you still can blend in to the background.
4. Fill up the tank with gas. We drove all over our land looking for animals and it took about two tanks of gas before we finally found one.
5. Go hunting. Drive around, walk around, crawl around, until you find a good one. Make sure it’s on land you can hunt (in my case, on my family’s land).

Talking to other hunters on the phone.

My "hunting dog."

6. Take aim. Put the cross hairs over a kill spot; right above the shoulder if the deer’s broadside, in the middle of the white patch in the chest if the deer’s looking at you straight on (that’s how I got mine), or in the deer’s forehead. The forehead shot’s good because it doesn’t ruin any meat, but if you were planning on painting the skull or something there will be a bullet hole there.

My deer from 2011.

7. “Breathe and squeeze” Once you have your scope lined up, get the gun as steady as possible. Take a deep breath and on the exhale, squeeze the trigger.

8. Check the results. If you got a kill shot, you can approach it quickly, but if you just wounded it, stay back for a little while so it won’t run away. A wounded animal can still outrun you, and you don’t want it getting away so it can suffer and be coyote food. If it’s wounded enough you can approach it but it won’t get up, slit its throat, or put another round through its head to put it out of its misery.

This is the deer I shot. In the bottom center of the photo

 you can see the red spot where I hit it. 

It dropped on the first shot. When we 

butchered it, we discovered it was a lung shot.

9. Put the tag on it. Once the dear is dead, you have to fill out the tag and put it on the deer. You’ll have to sign the tag, and put the time/date of the kill.

10. Gut it and load it or load it and gut it. There’s some discrepancy about what to do next. You can either gut it right where you killed it and they load it into the pickup, or you can load it into the pickup, take it to where you’ll be processing it, and then gut it. If you gut it on the field it’s lighter and easier to load. If you gut it where you’ll be processing it, it’ll probably be warmer (winter deer season) but you’ll have to haul the guts away. We decided to load it without gutting it because we wanted to save time so we could look for another deer for my dad.

It was worth it, because we both found one.

11. Hang it up. After it’s gutted, you can cut part of the hind legs off so you can hang it up. It needs to hang for at least a day so the meat won’t be really tough. It has to do with how the meat reacts to death.

It's a slow process, but first you have to cut of the ends 

of the legs to be able to hang it from the hocks.

12. Skin it. There’s also some debate here. Some people skin it and then let it hang, and others don’t skin it until they’re ready to get the meat. Here’s the reasoning for skinning it first: it’s a little cleaner. When skinning, hair and dirt from the hide is bound to get on the meat. If you skin it first, then let it hang for a day or so, a hard crust will form on the outer portion of the meat. We skin off this crust, and it provides a clean layer of meat to process. I’m sure professionals can get in there lickety-split and not get a single hair on the meat, but we’re not that good.

13.  Let it hang. Wait a day or so to let it process. Make sure it’s in a clean, cold space so the meat doesn’t spoil.

14.  Set up a processing shop. You’ll need sharp knives, a clean table, a few tubs to store the meat and seasonings. I wanted my deer turned into summer sausage, deer sticks, and deer jerkey because that’s what my husband prefers, but other people cut it into ground venison, can it, or save chunks for roasts and whatnot. For my summer sausage and deer sticks, we used my uncle’s grinder, sausage casings, and seasonings. For the jerky, we used a slicer.

15.  Process the meat. Here’s where you grind, season, pack the sausage casings and slice the meat for strips of jerky. The jerky needs to sit in a marinade to season the meat.

Here's Wyatt working with some of the deer sticks.

16.  Cook the meat. Depending on the amount of meat, look online for what temperature and amount of time you need to cook the meat at. It’s a lengthy process, so be sure that you won’t need to use the oven for at least six hours. For the jerky, lay the strips over a hail screen and cook it in the oven, or cook it in the smoker.

Deer sticks post-cooking. We cut them into 

smaller pieces and vacuum seal them.

Cooked strips of jerky.

17.  Pack and store the meat. My husband and I aren’t about to eat 40+ pounds of meat before it all goes bad, so vacuum seal the meat, put some in the fridge and some in the freezer.

18.  Enjoy the meat!

Here's the man who's going to be eating the 

bulk of the meat... Turns out deer 

products make a great Christmas present!

Some thoughts: Hunting is a great way to come face to face with your food. Since less than 2% of the American population are directly involved in production agriculture, that means about 98% of the population hasn’t had the opportunity raise or process their own food, outside of maybe a garden. It’s hard work to produce food.

Hunting is a little different because the animals are wild. They raise themselves, and we use that meat for sustenance. It’s also different because hunting is fun—it’s fun to go out and drive around God’s country. It’s fun to hang out and talk and look around for some brown spots on the horizon. It’s fun to test yourself and your mastery with a weapon.

For anyone...

who says...

Kansas isn't...

absolutely, beautifully, breathtaking.

But we have to remember that we are stewards over the land. That we should care for it, and try our best not to be wasteful. We’re not out there just to get a pretty pearly white rack to hang in our living room or get a cool picture to put on Facebook. 

Because let's face it... a real country girl 

doesn't need any props in her selfies. :)

Facing fears and chasing dreams

It's kind of funny how often pursing a passion means coming face to face with the things we fear the most. Whether it's the fear of rejection, failure,or heights, it seems like life's greatest pursuits lay on just the other side of great personal perils. Unfortunately, this isn't always inherently obvious.

About a month ago I found out that I was accepted into the agricultural communications graduate program at Oklahoma State University, and that I was expected to start on January 11th. Around the same time Ty was offered an amazing internship from January to April with an accounting firm in Nashville... dreams and fears. We were going to have to choose between career, education, comfort, and passions.

The first year of our relationship was long distance, and look at us now... married for almost three years, together for almost five. I know we can handle a few months apart, even if it's going to be difficult.

So here we are, pursing our dreams of a joyful marriage (facing the fears of personal or professional failure), pursing our dreams of education (dealing with hard work, student loans, making the tough decision between different institutions, and distance), and pursuing our dreams of professional success (fearing failure, living apart, long working hours during the busy tax season, moving again, and the bills that come along with caring for two separate households).

After a wonderful thanksgiving together, I left our home in Nashville so I could chase my academic and professional dreams. First stop? Stillwater, Oklahoma, over 600 miles away.

Without stopping, Google Maps estimated the trip at nine hours and 54 minutes... I made it in twelve. I thought it was going to be a lot longer when, an hour into the trip, I had to stop and take a nap. I stopped once more to get some gas, tea, and internet (in that order), and stopped a third time to get some gas and fries. Tired, fried, and having listened to about eleven hours of radio, I was glad when I finally crawled out of the car. Papi was so happy he ran for about an hour straight.

Ty's dad and his girlfriend, Kim, live(d) together in Stillwater, and were kind enough to open their home to me. I was met with a big pan of spicy cheeses spaghetti, a hug, and a comfy couch to sleep on.

In the morning, Ty's Dad left for his first day of work as the manager at a new store, and I left to find somewhere to live in the coming semester. I'd already called about six people from ads I'd found on Zillow or Craigslist, my phone was charged (for the GPS) and I had about half a tank of gas.

The first place I went and looked at was a three bedroom mobile home. It was out in the "country" on 1.25 acres, with a fenced in yard. According the property manager, all it needed was two new doors and it would be "move in ready."...  The road to the place was filled with potholes, and when we pulled up, four neighborhood dogs were quick to "welcome" Papi and me. Anyway, I'm not sure who he thought would be moving in... Maybe the Adams family. So that one was out.

I spent the rest of the day driving around Stillwater to no avail. By the time I'd had enough, Kim and I went on a walk around Boomer Lake--which is basically a big pond. It was right around sunset, and the beautiful pastel colors reflected off of the water. Papi was sufficiently worn out. When we were done walking, we went to supper at Chili's with David (unlimited enchiladas!) and then settled in for the night.

The next day, I met the professor that I'm going to be working with in the coming semester. He introduced me to the other faculty, showed me around the building, and enrolled me in my first class as a grad student. (A communications ethics course... maybe I'll talk about my opinions on ethics classes later...) Anyway, he also offered to show me around Stillwater.

So, he took me out and we drove ALL OVER TOWN. For about three hours I think. I got to see a small two-bedroom house that looked kind of promising, got the number for a spiffy three-bedroom house, and then he got ahold of some of his relation that owned a rental property in Stillwater.

It's a two-bedroom apartment in a house that's been modified to accommodate two apartments. Rent's low, and it's less than a mile away from campus... Obviously it's give and take and no place I'm going to find is going to be perfect, but let's hope it's a good, safe place to live while I'm going to school.

I left Stillwater for Manhattan, to visit my mom and brother, Tucker. Instead of taking the interstate, I took a (toll-free) highway. I wondered how anyone could ever think that Kansas isn't beautiful. It got dark on the way, and after living in Nashville, I forgot how dark it can get! It was almost smothering to have the blackness all around except for my high beams.

When I (finally) made it to Manhattan, I met Mom and Tucker and we went out to eat at a local gem: So Long Saloon. It was delicious, and, of course, we had plenty of leftovers. In the morning, Tucker went to school and Mom had a "take your (22-year-old) daughter to work" day. I saw the Best Western hotel that she manages (way to go, Mom!) and we went to a gym together because Mom did what I should do and signed up for a gym membership.

Each gym membership comes with three free meetings with a personal trainer, and they were nice enough to let me piggy back into her session. The trainer told us that the foundation of any fitness program should be "mobility and stability" and before doing any difficult exercises, a person first needs to correct any weaknesses, imbalances, or mobility issues that they have. (This is why programs like Crossfit and P90X or Insanity should only be used by people who are in GREAT shape and already have a solid foundation of mobility and stability.

The trainer told us that both of us pronate when we squat, but I learned that I have the best shoulders he's ever seen, as in structure and muscle balance.... woot woot! He designed a workout program for Mom and if she sticks with it for one year, he expects her to gain ten pounds of muscle and lose twenty pounds of fat... I'm now wishing I was still in Manhattan so I could work with him and I could change my body that way!

In honor of her gym membership and my obvious commitment to fitness, we went to IHOP for lunch. lawlz. It was delicious, though, and we both got pretty healthy meals. My bacon temptation omelet was the bomb!

We didn't have too much time together as Tucker was in school, Mom still had work stuff to do, and I was still trying to edit my book, keep in touch with my (geographically) distant husband, and edit a novel.

I left for home on Friday to throw a surprise party for my dad and sister whose birthdays were going to be on Saturday and Sunday. It wasn't anything huge or elaborate, but I had a good time and I hope they did too.

Over the next week, I went hunting, continued editing my novel, and tried to build up courage.

We all have it; that one thing that we would eat slugs to avoid. Our greatest fears. For some people, that's heights, or snakes, or tight spaces, or darkness, or even cotton balls. (No judgement.) For me, it's the fear of rejection, the fear of failure, and the fear of other people's perceptions of me.

I developed these fears sometime in high school... right around the time I started being bullied. I'm not going to say this girl spat on me, or called me names, or anything. Actually, she never did anything to my face. What she--and other people who I thought were my friends--did was exclude me. One time she invited everybody to an after school event, and told people not to invite me. I found out later that I was only invited because the foreign exchange students (people I'd known for only months as opposed to years) had stood up for me.

I wondered why people didn't like me. I wondered what I'd done wrong to deserve such treatment. I wondered what people said about me behind my back. I built up a case against myself. I wondered what she had that I didn't, because she'd gotten so many people to agree with her. I nitpicked every single thing I'd done or said and thought about what I could do differently so that wouldn't ever happen again. I thought back to all of the mean things I said or done to others, and I hated myself for it because I knew how much it hurt. I became an observer, because it's easier to avoid mistakes by avoiding risks. 

So here I am, three and a half years, post-high school, married, graduated from college, with all these amazing adventures under my belt, and still struggling with this habit of building a case against myself. I wonder why I don't have a slew of friends. I wonder why only two people from my high school attended my wedding. I wonder when I'll ever get over this.

I'm working on a project, my passion, and I can't bring myself to leave the house because I am terrified. See, for this project, I need to go out and interview ten older women. I want to ask them about their lives, their experiences, and ask for the wisdom they can pass on. I want to take these interviews and turn them into a book so other people can read about their amazing lives. So fifty years from now their grandchildren can pick up the book and say, "So that's what my grandmother was like. She was amazing."

I haven't even interviewed them yet, and I know their lives are amazing, because every life is amazing. 

But I'm sitting here in my dad's house, riddled with an overwhelming amount of anxiety. 

What if the women I ask say no?

What if they think I'm silly?

What if they think I'm being intrusive?

What if they don't like what I write about them?

What if I write the book and no one ever reads it... it would be a dishonor to their legacies.

What if I never finish the project?

This fear is exhausting. For a girl who usually never goes to sleep before midnight, I've been going to sleep at nine PM and waking up at eight. My stomach has been upset. I have dark circles under my eyes. I want to cry and sleep at the same time. I don't know what would be worse: asking them, or not asking them.

Their stories deserve to be told.

I've already met with three women, which brings my total number of interviewees to four. It always seems so scary before I'm doing it, but while I'm interviewing, I'm in love! These women are so amazing and open and honest and I fall in love with their stories. I'm hoping to get ten before I publish, but that's not really a strict goal. I would be satisfied with five or six or seven or eight or nine as well. :) We'll just have to see where this takes me.

A really special moment happened when I was interviewing one of the ladies on my 22nd birthday. A woman randomly walked into this woman's room, who was a good friend of my gram's. She was able to catch up with Gram really shortly before she went to the hospital and soon after passed away, and this woman told me that talking with Gram was one of the best times of her life over the last few years. I can't remember perfectly what she said, which has me thinking that it was probably Gram's way of telling me happy birthday. <3

My birthday was a really hard day. It's always hard to know that you're growing older and that your expectations of yourself at a certain age haven't been met. It was hard to be away from my husband. I didn't get a birthday cake and no one sang to me. It was the first year I didn't get a card from my grandma. I went to the movies in Sharon Springs by myself. What made it better was the people who took time our of their lives to mail me gifts (Thank you Grandma and Grandpa Stelting for my new outfit and scarf! It's perfect!), call or text me, and write me sweet messages on Facebook, and my husband who sent me a bunch of "open when" letters. I'm glad that I'm starting to figure out who really cares and who doesn't. The next step is surrounding myself with the people who care and focusing my energy on showing them how much of love them (a lot!).

I shot a deer the day after my birthday, which just happened to be the last day of season. We were just about ready to give up with an hour of sunlight left, but I finally got one. :) It was a clean kill--a lung shot from about eighty yards. 
He's not super huge--his rack's pretty thin--but he'll still make great jerky and summer sausage!

I got my hair done yesterday, and I have a lunch date today to talk with a woman about maybe possibly getting some grant money to work on my project. Fingers crossed!

I'll just keep praying about my life, and for my husband, and for the right skills to tell these special stories so that these women's memories can live on for many many years to come.