It Was a GREAT Week!

To say that this has been a week, is an understatement.  Up, down, up and down again.  And then up.  'Cause I just got a shower and time to think about it all.

I am a thinker.  That is what I do.  Obsess, examine and ponder all angles. I worry, but I wouldn't say I panic.  It (panic) happens and when the panic is exposed, know that I have been chewing on it for a while. 

I am also a project girl.  Many a wall has been painted with me in deep thought...you really wish my walls could talk!  It was not unusual for my husband to come home to a new color somewhere or a piece of furniture converted for another use.  The only thing better than my being able to create something wonderful and new, is love from my children.  Being able to work on something and think has an unbelievable calming effect on me.

And this is where I realize what has been happening to me.  It was a rough week.  I was really disappointed how I let it get to me.  Granted, there were some pretty scary moments, but I really let it get to me.  I was an impatient, anxious ball of nerves.  I couldn't project.  I don't have the energy or strength to pull off painting a room or refinish a piece of furniture.  It seriously isn't an option.  I need to work with my hands.  Reading doesn't help...can't concentrate and I get frustrated having to reread the same sentence over and over again.  My hands are achy and aren't working.  I'm stuck.  I hate to sit and that seems to be what I have to do lately.  SO THERE IT IS!  I miss my projects, my therapy!  I'll never forget ,once,when a friend was visiting earlier in the day and later returned to find I had painted the living room.  "What's going on?"  She knew before I did.  This is how I handle stress. In my own way, I was able to create and (almost) finish another project this week.  It mostly happened sitting at the computer and with the hubby making runs for me.  Not the norm here.  But it was a distraction. 

SO what was so stressful?  The week started with anticipation of a doctor's appointment with good news, followed the next day with scary news, followed by a day of waiting.  The next was news of denial of the help I was hoping for, then the awesome news that my brain was AOK. The dog ran off, then was hit by a car while I watched and by some freaking miracle, she escaped without a scratch or speck of dirt!! I struggled with some uneasy feelings from the past and decided to speak out.  I got the news that I was gonna get that help...those meds that promise to make me start feeling better.  Saturday morning ended with a comment made by someone that just made me crumble later.  I had disappointed someone.  In the huge scope of things, it really is a tiny thing (I, in my recent absent mindedness forgot to RSVP and was rudely reprimanded, in front of others), but it was too much for me in that moment.

Then, just before my shower tonight, I received an email from a friend that got me thinking about this week and I suddenly saw it all differently.  I am not failing, I can handle things.  It is just different for me now.  I have to learn to navigate around it better and find a different outlet when I am not able to ponder life as I normally would.  I am in an adjustment period.  This will be temporary.  It has to be.

I unexpectedly revealed one of my most heartbreaking secrets to someone and was comforted in ways I would have never imagined I could be.  It was a leap of faith on my part speaking up about something so important to me and so unbearably raw, at times.  There were words of acceptance, understanding and love that touched me so deeply.  I am so grateful.  And so proud to know someone such as this.

I watched in complete horror as our family pet was struck by a vehicle with my children right on my heels.  It is this crazy slow-motion blur in my mind.  They run past me on the front porch to Daisy and then they turn just before they get to her and look back at me.  The dog is laying in the road (I thought) and I thought to myself, "How am I going to get them through this?  How can I ever fix this?".  And then I hear Ethan shout, "Mommy!  Look!"  Daisy was up and running!  And she appeared perfectly fine.  After all the chaos, I now look back and can see how perfectly orchestrated  everything was.  Neighbors falling in where they needed to be, family answering the call for help.  My sister, where she needed to be when I needed her to be there.  The Damn Beagle (TDB) is perfect!  I remind the kids, "pray and be thankful when you are in church today."  They say they don't think they should pray for the person(s) who hit Daisy and drove off.  I tell them, "No, you pray especially for them."

It was a GREAT week!  It was a week to put things in perspective.  It was a week to flourish and be thankful.  For health.  For happiness.  For friends and family.  For lessons learned.  For a start to really heal in body, mind and soul.  It was a great week.

If just ONE of these stressful events had turned out differently, it could have been a terrible week.  Blessed is a complete understatement.

Daisy

Yeah...did I mention I lost 7 pounds?!?  Gone.  FANSTINKINTASTIC week!

N O R M A L

My heart is pounding and if I let myself, I could cry.  Two days of complete anxiety and worry.  I didn't work myself up to this.  It was a series of calls and apologies made from the neurologists office telling me the doctor needed to see more.  NOW.  It was the call to reschedule the follow-up appointment (which was supposed to be the day following the CTA) that sent me over the edge.  It was the confession that they were looking for a possible aneurysm.  In whole, I think it was the proverbial "straw" from more than a year of testing and waiting and feeling like crap.  But today, I got the call....N O R M A L!!!

There will be more tests, more to rule out.  I am not now, nor have I ever been afraid of those outcomes. Bring it!  Two down, two to go!

Normal.  Best word ever.

Things are Looking Up...Really!

After my last post this morning, I realized that it sounds completely depressing.  Surprisingly, I am not depressed and I thought I should also tell about some encouraging news I got earlier this week.

I have finally been given a diagnosis of  Rheumatoid arthritis (they are keeping the diagnosis of Fibromyalgia too) and that is GREAT!  It means that there is now a course of action with proper treatment.  It means that I can finally start feeling better.  I was told that in as little as two weeks (once treatment has started) I will start to feel some relief and eventually, will be back to about 95% of my old self!!!  I can't even begin to imagine!  What shall I ever do with my old self???

• YOGA!!!  I was at a meeting this month and as a treat, someone was brought in to practise some yoga with us ladies.  I refused the offer and stayed in another room because I was not feeling too great.  I think that may have been a mistake.  I walked back into the room before they were finished and felt like a love-sick puppy.  I wanted to get down there with them.  The dim lighting, the calming music, slow movement was calling to me.  I remembered my first yoga experience and tried to remember why I ever stopped.  I need to make yoga a part of my life again.  My body and soul need it too.  If you have never tried...I encourage you to go for it.  

• Walks with the family.  We have beautiful property.  Not once this year, actually it has been longer because I broke my foot prior to this mess, did I walk our property.

• Dance...with my friends.  I can't tell you how much I miss that kind of fun.

• Plan more family outings.

• Take better care of myself.  Because I will have the energy too.  And because I owe it to myself and my family to do so.

I know that as I get stronger and start to feel better this list will grow.  Right now these are the things I am anxious to get to.

I always try to look for the positive in any situation to make the best of it.  This situation has sucked.  It hasn't been easy.  There have been many good things that have come of it. Enough that I may just forget about the bad.  When I am on the other side of this I hope to remember how far I have come and not all that I lost.  What I do know, what I have always known, is that you need to learn from and move on to better things.  Remember, but do not dwell on. 

TWO WEEKS BABY!!!

Important Enough

I woke this morning with some uneasy feelings and, for once, was able to quickly recognize where they were coming from.  I could feel myself starting to unravel and knew I had to pull it together.  It was 7:00 am and the house would soon be awake and our door would soon start opening for me to welcome our usual morning guests. Don't start [crying].  I called my husband at work to admit to him this morning, what I refused to admit yesterday, because it was his birthday.  I am scared.  I needed to admit it out loud then regroup.

Here is where I will continue to pull myself together.  Though I am not sure this will be posted, it is incredibly therapeutic for me to write it out.  I have said this before, writing is a wonderful release.  It is the best I know how to effectively sort out my mind, my heart, my emotions.  There is little to no (as you can tell) editing.   What flows from my (very tired and achy) fingertips to the keyboard is what you see.  All Rachel.

I have never thought that I was important enough.  I always thought it would be selfish to think so.  Who am I?  The word certainly won't crumble if I were unable to grace it with my presence. Right?  I've seen people who think they are the end-all.  Not a fan of those types.  Not at all.  Until I opened my eyes this morning and all my worries came flooding back.  I listened to the tiny little breaths being taken by my sleeping baby boy laying beside me.  I am important!  I am.  Your world may not crumble, but I understood in that moment, that my children's would.  That can't happen.  Not as long as I have anything to do with it.

Tests, tests, tests.  Wait, wait, wait.  Actually, this has been going on for a looooonnngggg time now.  We are getting close to the two year mark.  Mistakes, misunderstandings, overlooks, band-aids, more tests, more waiting.  For the most part, I have been mostly patient.  Don't overreact, don't panic, don't worry.  There are others who are in worse shape.  If there is something, they'll find it.  Relax.  These are the things I tell myself everyday.  Until yesterday, this all worked.

There were some questions about some scans I had done and additional scans were ordered.  Not unusual.  It was the way they were reordered that had me slightly concerned.  I just kept reminding myself that if it was serious, they wouldn't wait.  When I pushed, they revealed that they suspected an aneurysm (brain).  Honestly, I think everything will be alright.  I am hopeful that yesterday's scan proves this.  Again, I know that if it were at all too serious, they would be on it.  I also know that if their suspicions are confirmed, it's not the end of the world.

When I returned home from the test, I was talking on the phone to a girlfriend and across the TV screen (on a channel I normally do no watch at this time, was left on from the previous watcher) flashed the words ANEURYSM.  It was the Doctor Oz show (oddly enough, I am sitting here writing this and I kid you not, there is a repeat on of this exact same show on an entirely different channel that I don't have on at this time either!!!).  I got off the phone to watch.  I am very careful about information that I collect.  I want to understand, not panic.  In fact, I need to understand it.  I need information.  I was happy to watch even though it seemed scary.  It confirmed to me what the options are after discovery.  I was calmed by this.  Thought it was a little strange that this was the topic and the channel that was left on.  I thought I was fine with it all.  After all, they let me go home, right?

So, this morning, for whatever reason, every fear hit me.  What if?  I mean, this wasn't some random test.  I was sent because I complained of ringing in the ears and the doc only discovered my severe headaches because he asked me if I ever had any.  I was focused on the other reasons I was sent to see a neurologist (trembling, etc.).  And then, he wanted to see more.  Crap.

That's the moment I heard Alec sleeping soundly beside me.  I thought about Emily and Ethan.  I thought about how life would be for them.  And then, I realized that I mattered.  I am important in their lives.  It all hit me at once.  What an amazing and terrifying feeling.

There is no fantastic conclusion to this post.  I am still waiting for an answer which I was told could come today.  When that call comes, I will have my list of questions.  Previously, I would have taken as little as time possible with them knowing that they were very busy and not wanting to be a pain and take up too much of their time.  I deserve those few extra moments.  I am important too.

True Understanding

"I was thinking..." I had called my husband at work and revealed my newest thoughts on our latest project.  "So, what do you think?"  He replies, "I think that maybe we (he means me) should just slow down and think about this some more.  I've been hearing a lot of, 'I think we should paint this...and move that...' and I am concerned that this is a result of you having to "rest" all this time."  Ooooh!  He's good!  He's also right.  Not that it is unnatural for me to want to change a room or refinish or reupholster a piece of furniture. I love, love, love that stuff.  I'm pretty darn good at it too (HUGE step right there, if you know me!  I am no good at the self-praise thing!). The difference is that, in the past, these changes and projects usually take place and are completed while he is at work and the children are away at school.  I can't help it.  I get an idea and it becomes all consuming.  Then I have to start it...and Lord knows, I have to finish it!  I will not rest if something is left unfinished!  And now, I need help.  I have to depend on others to help me.  There are several issues there.

Asking for help is not one of my strong suits.  I am sure someone can and will read further into this, but here are the basics I am aware of and willing to admit.  If I ask, I have failed.  Done.  If I ask, there is a chance I will have to accept work that is less than I demand of myself (NO!  That doesn't mean I am better than you, just that I feel I may be more careful!).  And...there is a good chance that I may be somewhat of a...Control Freak. I am also way too aware of how busy everyone else is and I want to be respectful of their time. Let's not forget the fear of rejection, which turns into a failure issue.  Add to all that a healthy case of OCD (because if the "help" doesn't exactly do something as I would and calls it, 'good enough', I won't be able to sleep or concentrate on anything but until it gets fixed...not funny at all) and you may understand why asking for help is an incredibly hard thing for me to do.  But I am getting better, really.

So now, I am this girl who is fidgety beyond belief, but truly unable to complete all of what she desires on her own (this WILL be a temporary issue...you should have seen me muscle that Christmas Tree out of the house last week in frustration of not being able to accomplish something else!) and coming to terms with the idea of having to relay on others more.  This is gonna be fun.

It's gonna be alright.  Perhaps this (illness) has happened for a reason.  I think I may have touched on that before.  I am married to a wonderful man.  He is completely willing to take on most things.  We are two entirely different people.  I am the hands-on, pull it apart to figure out why it's not working, tackle just about anything kind of gal.  He is the book-smart, would rather pay someone else because I think I may break it more kind of guy.  He amazes me with his knowledge and I often feel stupid.  That feeling of stupidity is brief.  Mostly because in the next moment he is praising me for having the courage to dismantle the lawn mower and figure out what is wrong. This past summer when I was unable to handle the tools to fix the mower (again!), I sat beside him and talked him through it.  Now this was not something I had ever attempted to repair prior to this, so it was new to both of us.  It got fixed.  He was so proud and I was beaming just watching him realize that he actually fixed it!  I think that was the same day I walked him through repairing the electrical cord to the pool filter that our puppy had chewed through.  That was a great day.  We make a great team.

We are both perfectionists in our own different ways.  That used to drive me mad, now I understand that it actually balances us out.  I have come to understand that greatly over the past year.  It's not clear whether it is out of exhaustion or desperation to get as much done as possible, but I am learning to accept less than perfect. The other day, I was hanging up our calendar.  I noticed that there was still some drywall dust on the wall from a ceiling repair I had made in the fall.  I left it there.  *Gasp*  Yep.  I left it there.  I find myself doing things like that all the time, lately.  My mother would have a field day (actually, she has been quite supportive in this area)!  Have at it.  The truth is we are doing a pretty good job, all things considered.  I used not to ask anything of my children.  I was afraid of asking too much.  Now, they have chores and contribute.  Do not misunderstand, it's not perfect, but we are working at it. All of us as a team.  I think that I am the one who has had to make the most adjustments.  Learning to accept that it won't all get done and understand that everyone is doing the best they can.  Family.

It's those days when I sit here and think of all that I want to accomplish that I am thankful for all the times I pushed through the next project.  Imagine how hard it would be if I hadn't gotten all that done?  Seriously, I would be going out of my mind!

I love that my husband knows me well enough to see that I am going stir crazy...and is smart enough to break it to me gently.  That he is so invested in my interests to the point that they have become common interests.  He is supportive in ways that are greatly important.  His frustration is not with me, it is for me in knowing how hard some things are for me at times.  As mad as he can make me, he makes me laugh harder in the next moment.  We aren't perfect all the time.  That would be completely unnatural! But it's good a majority of the time.  We have struggles and breakthroughs just like anyone.  He doesn't always know when I need more (he is a guy, after all) but is completely willing to give more when I finally break down and admit it.  He knows me...enough to say, "maybe we should just slow down and think about this some more." when he knows I have had enough...

Better

I have amazing children.  I know that most mom's believe this about their children, as they should.  But, I do have amazing children.  They make me laugh, smile, burst at the seams with pride and impatient with the desire to kiss their cheeks and feel their tiny arms wrap around me.  They make me better.  Feel better, be better, love better, try better.  I am a better person because of my children.

I was once told that I didn't know how to love.  That only having a child would give me that ability.  That statement made me angry.  It hurt.  Until I understood it to be true.  I think the messenger greatly misunderstood that statement and was all to eager to find satisfaction in delivering it to me.  As if my "inability to love" was by some fault of my own. Some things in life are meant to be learned through experience.  What you don't experience, you don't learn.  I know how to love and I now know what it is to be loved.  Because of my children.  It is the most glorious feeling in the world.

Seriously, at that point in my life, if I was confident enough, I would have very respectfully told that person how wrong she was.  I had experienced love.  For family, first love, friends and eventually, my husband.  I love deeply and honestly and hope for my children to do the same.

 Is it possible to love so hard that it is impossible to see what really is?  My boy has some issues.  We don't make a huge deal of them, but we don't hide them either.  I have heard him called the "Golden Child" because we do handle him differently (OK, so it was one person, but still...).  We do not excuse his behavior when it is in appropriate, but we do deal with it differently than we would our other two.  But he is not like our other two.  It's not favoritism.  He is high energy, high anxiety and highly adorable!  Because of his anxiety issues, he can be very sensitive.  To touch, to voice.  And if not handled properly, he can quickly get out of control.  Not violently, just emotionally.  And then you know you've lost him.  For me,the internal panic starts.  I begin to question how I handled the situation, am I even helping and ultimately, I start to pray that I get him through with the least amount of damage and as much confidence as I can.  And then, it's over.  His blue eyes, bloodshot, his face and ears, crimson.  The rough moment is over, but his face tells all.  God!  Then, he smiles!  I smile.  He has a smile that warms your heart and makes you feel as though there's nothing but good stuff ahead.  Oh my heart!  I love that kid.


His anxiety has made school tough.  He repeated kindergarten because he spent so much of the year with anxiety/separation issues that he just couldn't focus on school.  I thought I failed him because I sent him as a very fresh 5 year old.  I thought that he needed a push. I would have loved to have him home with me, but I thought I was just encouraging the separation issues that he had even at 9 months old.  In First grade, there was talk of classifying him as Special Ed.  We consulted several people and decided it really wasn't necessary at this point.  The issue is being brought up again, in second grade.  Now we are seeking an outside opinion.  There are lengthly explanations as for why.  We have once again consulted with others who don't seem to think we are off base and agree that we should seek an outside opinion.  In the end, if it is deemed he needs additional resources, then fine.

This is why I question if my love and my desires for him to be successful are clouding the truth.  I want him to be a fighter.  But I don't want to make his life so hard that he feels as though he is constantly fighting an uphill battle.  That can be daunting.  Especially for a little guy.  I should mention that he had made GREAT improvements.  That is what we look at. How far he has come.  Progress.  Others commented on it too.  We have actually noticed that his sister suffers from shyness at a lever far greater than he does.  He is just a different boy.  SO much so.  I want to give him more time to grow.  When there was the question of ADHD, we said, no drugs...and we will deal with it.  He doesn't have ADHD.  They don't even talk about it any more.  Is it possible to love him through this?  I will.  I will fight with him and love him so hard that when he doubts himself, he'll know I'm there and how much I believe in him.  This is so hard.  I actually had to walk out of a conference because I couldn't choke back the tears any longer.  I sat there wondering if I had failed him, was I failing him, will I fail him?  I still don't know all the answers.

And then there is my daughter who floats through school almost effortlessly.  Her biggest struggle is her lack of organization followed by her perfectionism (slows her down and she could care less if she misses out on something) and shyness.  With her, I worry that she isn't putting herself out there enough.  Is she lonely? Happy?  I always ask her teachers, "does she talk?"  Usually, at that point, they have been in school for a couple of weeks and understand why I ask.  She is quiet.  I recently found out that she is often alone in gym and that when they have to find a partner, she is left without one.  She has friends, but is to shy or afraid to be rejected to ask.  How did this happen?  Could I have prevented this?  And then every awful, sad, heartbreaking scenario goes through my mind.  This is so hard.  My solution was for her to invite her "usual" friends as well as all others (girls) in the class to her birthday party.  Hoping that a different environment, her environment, would help her feel more confident and that the other girls would get to see Emily as we do.  I think it went well.  One of the girls didn't want to leave.

My weakness for Emily, is her vunerability.  Her inability to express her feelings freely.  She holds everything in. I have to seek her out in a quiet moment.  It is then that I am reminded what an amazingly compassionate (she often appears as though she could give a rip) little girl she is.  And she loves to snuggle.  With me.  In the dark, I can still see those incredible big blue eyes staring back at me.  Just like in those first months, as a newborn as I nursed her in the wee hours in the night.  Those first moments before her eyes would close with contentment shortly after latching on.  She would look up at me.  With those Big. Blue. Eyes.

Alec.  What can I say?  He is four.  Right now I am struggling with the idea that he could go to kindergarten next year.  He could leave me.  He, just like his brother, will be a very fresh 5.  There is nothing in me that thinks he will have any of the issues that Ethan did.  Alec is an entirely different kid.  He is most like me.  Not too shy.  He is ready.  I am not.  My feeling is that, once they get on that bus, life starts.  There is no going back.  I want that one more year. I also feel that I could start to feel better and that we could do so much more.  Is this selfish or practical?  Emily really is pushing for him to start because it would be the only year she could ride the bus with him.  He also has this adorable little friend.  They are like two peas in a pod.  He will be starting next year.  I am not ready....This is so hard.


So with Alec, his cuteness at this age runith over!  He is the baby. And I have come to terms with the fact that he may very well be our last.  We had to make that choice when I was put on a certain medication.  This makes letting go so much harder.  Though,I suppose it would have had to happen at some point, at some child.  There is more time for him.  Emily and Ethan were 18 months apart.  Not much one-on-one time there.  He is expressive. loving, funny and pleasantly independent.  He very much possesses the combined endearing qualities of his siblings.

So why should I treat them the same?  As you can see, they are very different from each other.  Why should anyone expect us to ignore their amazing individual qualities?  We are an adaptable family.  Because we have to be. Because it works for us.  Because we want to be.  Maybe we are sometimes blinded by the love and desires we have,  But isn't that better than not having any to be blinded by at all?  I want to believe this.  I want to know that my desire to love them so right is healthy and affords them all the opportunities life offers.  I want to make them better, because that's what they make me.

~ Reflections 2010 ~

Wow.  That is all I can really think to say at this moment.  I decided to go back and read or skim through my posts over the past year.  I know where this (blog) started; what it was intended for.  I had hoped to be so much better off.  Instead, I weigh more now, than when I started.  I can honestly say that it has more to do with the medicine that I have been on and the lack of energy than anything else.  Either way, I started this project back in March.  I am almost a year out from that day and feeling rather...crappy.  I know that the failure is not mine.  There was nothing I could do.

What a year this has been!  Never, ever, would I have thought that this is where I would be. 278 pounds.  Exhausted and hurting.  That's on the exterior.  Mentally, I am holding my own and constantly monitor for any signs of depression (so far, so good!).  I can't say that I am the happiest person right now, but what can one expect in this situation?  Emotionally, again, holding my own.  What I am most proud of is the strength I found when push came to shove.  I shoved.  Hard.  And no, not everyone was happy about it.  Too bad.  See?  Did you see what I just said?  Too BAD!  For as weak as I am physically, right now, I am strong in ways I never thought I could be, needed to be.

I have been surprised by the actions of some.  Pleasantly and disgustingly.  I struggled with the idea of having to admit when I/we needed help.   That the struggle came from a fear that I was admitting failure if I asked for help. What I learned was that I would fail my family if I didn't ask.  That is not an option.  I had to learn that there would be those who would never understand, try to understand or even ask so they could understand what has been going on here.  There has been much respect lost.  But then, there has been some gained for someone whom I thought was a lost cause.  That makes me happy.  There has been genuine concern and quite honestly, I am still struggling to be comfortable in that.  Life is short.  So I try to accept it.  All of it.

Struggle, struggle, struggle.  Maybe I should say balance.  I can't find the balance.  Because I am/was "a do-er" there are expectations.  And rightfully so.  I tried to keep up.  I really did.  Until I couldn't any more.  I found myself, saying more times than I would like, "I'm sorry, but I can't".  I wanted to badly to explain, but struggle with the idea of sounding like a complainer.  Seriously.  I know that you all know that I have not been feeling well, but how long am I supposed to sell that before it gets old?  It's f!*#ing old to me!  So I walk around, a lot, feeling like people (who really matter to me) are angry.  Angry with me.

I'll share a moment from yesterday.

It had been three days of running for me.  A couple of hours usually puts me down for a few hours.  Friday was gathering supplies for my daughter's birthday party the following day with a couple of children in tow.  Saturday was the party with 8 little girls and later that evening was a special party for a very good friend (which I was useless for.  That killed me).  I tried very hard to pace myself.  Even strategically planning when I showered (remember, the heat from the shower can level me in a heartbeat).  I made it through.  I was tired (actually, that doesn't even begin to explain how I felt), but I wouldn't have missed it for the world.  Sunday rolls around.  I wake with the usual aches.  Get up.  Relax and eat with the family.  When it came for me to stand, I realized I wasn't doing to well and announced I had to go lay down.  Four hours later, I woke up.  Honestly, it is very hard for me to tell if I am coming down with the flu or that my body is just done. I thought it was the flu this time.  Nope.  We were invited to dinner at our friends house.  I had about 45 minutes to get ready.  I needed to shower.  I got out of the shower and had to call the hubby in to help me dress.  I broke down..  I just bent over at the waist and flopped onto the bed.  Who the hell can't dress themselves??? WTF!!  I sobbed and sobbed (it was all of ten minutes) and released, ranted and apologized.  I was done. I cried all my fears out loud.  What if they never figure this out?  How much longer?  I am being robbed of so much!  I just want to feel better. I don't want this body!  This fat!  It's not fair! I want to be all the mother I can.  The wife you deserve.  And then, he nuzzled in close to me.  "It is time for me to take care of you.  Let me.  Stop setting the bar so high for yourself."  Funny, 'cause I feel like I am not even setting a bar lately.  We left with me physically and emotionally drained.  That is often an overused expression.  Not here.  Not at all.


If you have read my past posts, you know that I consider myself to be incredibly blessed with a supportive husband and wonderful friends.  Time and time again over the past year I have been showered with all the good they have to offer.  Flowers dropped off, just because. Calls to check in. E-mails. Cards. Meals. Offers for help. Well wishes. I know that I have been hard to get a hold of.  I know that for the most part, there is understanding for why.  I appreciated that.  We all do.  Every act has touched me so deeply.  And they all make up for those who have not been as supportive or understanding.  From the bottom of my heart, thank you.  I love you all.  So much.  It is often hard for me to express this in person because tears are inevitable!

We are 10 days into the new year and I am anxious to see what is in store for the year ahead.  What I do know is that WHEN the doctors get this all figured out and my strength is back, I WILL show my gratitude by taking great care if this body.  In the meantime there is a plan in the works.  I will post about it as soon as I can get all my ducks in a row.  As much as I cringe when I read some of the past posts, I am glad they are there.  I has been a year!  I have grown (in more ways than one!) and learned so much.  About myself, my husband and my children.  As well as others.  There is much perspective where there used not be.  I have it in writing and I can reflect on it all.

I appreciate all your comments and emails and your following.  I do want to apologize that this has not been the blog it was intended to be.  It will get there.  I think this has been a wonderful experience for me for so many reasons.  For all of you working on those goals to be healthy, keep up the good work.  I am so very inspired by and proud of you.  Thank you for all that you share.  I can't wait to be right there with you!!


Until then (to quote some of you), "One day at a time, one step at a time..."

I Have This Nagging Feeling...

Think about the last injury you had. How, in those first few moments of confusion, shock and then pain, you are truly unable to communicate. If someone is there with you and asking, "are you alright?", you are almost unable to answer. In your mind, you are trying to absorb what has just happened, where the pain is and how bad you are hurt. You can't answer. The extra voices are almost agitating, adding to the chaos in your mind.

That has been what it is like for me. Several times a day, for a very long time now. Except now, all I know is the agitation and the realization of the pain, sometimes all over. And it is hard to concentrate on conversations and other things that are going on all around. I can no longer multi-task. I can watch the children and nothing else, even the television on in the background can be too much. Talking on the phone, not so much. There just doesn't seem to be enough distraction. I start to feel the aches and then I lose concentration. Then there's this mental scramble to recall what has just been said so I can respond appropriately and I just get frustrated. I can't explain how often I find myself becoming agitated and fidgety before I actually tune into my body and understand that I am hurting again. There is that expression, "I have this nagging feeling..." That is exactly what it is. Something is wrong, something hurts and I can no longer ignore it. Damn it!

Like most situations in life, I know I am not the only one. But lately, I just want to scream. I know several others that suffer or have suffered the same or similar symptoms to mine for other various diseases. Thankfully, they have been properly diagnosed and their medicines have had a chance to work and/or level out and they are functioning as "normal" as can be expected. That is all I want. I am not asking for a cure. Just for the pain and fatigue to stop, for a significant period of time. I am completely willing to pay my dues. I just need a break.

I know that the doctors are working hard and I am closer to relief (Please, I hope!) than I was a month ago. I know that I have to be patient. I know. I know. I know. But I also know that I feel inadequate as a mommy and wife. Each of my children have expressed their knowledge that "mommy is sick". What child should EVER have to worry about such things? I am ashamed that I couldn't hide it better. I can tell they are being so careful when they climb up on my lap for hugs. I recently found out that my oldest was worried that I was going to "leave...go to Heaven because the doctors don't know what's wrong" and my littlest one came into our bed the other night, covered me up and gently rubbed my arm. When I was telling my husband how cute it was, the little one overheard and said, "that's because mommy doesn't feel good."

As a general rule, we don't really discuss the situation around the kids. Honestly, there really is very little talk at all, because we had nothing to talk about. It has been a slow process of trying to figure everything out. They know that I am at the doctors, a lot. But they also know that I am much slower and tired. I am not really sure how we could have shielded them better. And my situation is not dire, by any means. In time it will be under control. I am not dying. Maybe we didn't share with them enough. Maybe going to all these doctors appointments should have been briefly discussed. I guess, as an adult, I know that my imagination can get the best of me too. Alright, so I just figured something out in this moment while writing this post. I will talk to the kids. Reassure them. Sigh...

Another month...another pill...another try at patience.