Angelique's blog

A Great Mystery

I have "parasthesia".  That is the technical term for neurological issues that cause numbness, pain and tingling in the limbs.  They gave it a word because telling a patient, "I have no clue why your body is doing this" isn't very reassuring.

I've been dealing with this for a couple years now.  I was referred to a neurologist who requested a slew of blood tests and an MRI.  I have no insurance and no insurer in Oregon will cover me unless I'm on an employer plan, and I'm not able to work in a traditional capacity so that's not an option.  I was able to finagle financial assistance for the MRI, and had that done.  However, the MRI showed no lesions indicative of MS.  That bloodwork that the doctor wanted done, well even without insurance there are copays and I just wasn't (and am still not) in a position to afford all of that.  When I met with that Dr. to discuss the results, my concerns and my attempts at finding out what is going on, I was told, while he was doing paperwork, that the nice thing about medicine is that I was to leave it to him and I didn't need to try to practice it.  Basically a pat on the head, sent me on my way with a reminder to get the bloodwork results to him before I came back.  I was shocked!  Had that just happened?  Had a doctor actually completely ignored my fears and concerns and sent me away to do something I already told him was financially a hardship?  What year was it again?  Did I sound stupid, uninformed, ignorant?  Did I look like a two-bit bimbo with an IQ of 75? 

By the time I got to my car I was fuming.  I called Gus and vented.  At first he didn't understand what I was upset about, but as I explained more he got frustrated, too.  So, he took it upon himself to help me find a second opinion, and a chance meeting in the line at the bank allowed him to give me that opportunity for a second opinion.  That neurologist was delightful, concerned, listened to me, and admitted she didn't know what was going on.  She thought that, perhaps, it could be fibromyalgia, and gave me the name of a pain specialist.  I left her office without much more than I had when I went in, but what I did have was a sense of confirmation that something is going on, and comfort because someone actually listened and cared.

I spent the rest of the summer and autumn just dealing with irritating symptoms; numbness, tingling, weakness, infrequent exhaustion, and the stress of everyday life.  On the bad days, when I was in pain, I contemplated calling the specialist, however I had a lingering concern as the specialist worked in the same office as the initial neurologist who had the bedside manner of a mildewed bottle brush.  One day I was in such pain that I gave in and called the pain specialist.  When I spoke to the receptionist I let her know my very real concern about trying to see him due to Dr. Mildew's potential skewing of my worthiness.  Sure enough when she called back she said they wanted to refer me to the "experts" at OHSU, and to contact my primary care physician to get a referral.

My emotions were all over the place.  Frustration, anger, fulfilled expectation of denial, hopefulness, and a fear that no one who could help me would ever believe me.  Then I heard on the news about a new discovery that could potentially change the way neurological diseases are diagnosed and treated, being researched at OHSU.  Yet still I hesitated.  I called my Dr.'s office only to be placed on hold for 20 minutes before hanging up.  Again I let more time pass, dismissing the symptoms and pain and niggling thoughts in the back of my mind.  And then...

We were at the mall, Saturday, December 1st, to pick up Secret Santa gifts for two young boys and to visit Santa Claus himself.  We entered through one of the big stores and as I walked I began to stumble.  First my right foot, then a few steps later my left, and again my right.  Gus let me hold his arm as we entered the main mall.  As we walked to one of our destinations, I continued to stumble and I began to experience something truly odd; my legs began to feel like they weren't really mine, like I couldn't control them, these once loyal appendages just weren't cooperating.  I could feel them with my hands and the muscles felt tight when I tried to rub them.  At our destination I asked Gus to take the boys in while I rested on a bench.  I tried to not focus on them, the stranger's legs attached where mine should be.  I looked at Facebook, checked the news, re-read some texts, checked email, and then began to look up these confounding symptoms.  *sigh*  I knew exactly what I would read, but the sadist in me just had to check.

Gus and the boys came to collect me and I continued to try to walk.  Eventually I broke down, crying and trying to hide my fear and pain and embarrassment from the boys.  I could not walk any further.  Gus helped me to another bench, the boys enjoyed a kiosk of ridiculously overpriced hats a couple feet away from my bench, and Gus went to get a wheelchair for me.  A wheelchair.  I'm 37.  I've only recently resigned myself to my mental/emotional issues, I never agreed to physical, too!

Once my chariot arrived it was surprisingly easy to navigate as a family.  Except for Matthew.  I think we ran over his foot three or four times.  Well, he's gotta learn to learn to be observant somehow.  The boys were still able to visit Santa and we all enjoyed a Jamba Juice before leaving.  When we went to Target I got one of those little scooter things.  Not too bad, I must say, except when you need to reverse.  The beeper on those scooter things is LOUD, and every time I had to back up I was sure than every shopper within a 10 isle radius was resenting that horrid beep and wondering what moron couldn't even maneuver through the store (I'd go forward and then down the next isle to avoid backing up at every opportunity).

Sunday morning arrived and I was determined to be able to go to church.  I did go, and enjoyed lunch afterward at Wendy's and then more Christmas shopping.  My legs weren't entirely reliable, and I was grateful for the shopping cart for stability.  But I did it.  And today I've been walking all around the house as I've cared for 5 individual kids and the house as well. 

But I did call my regular doctor's office today, for that referral to OHSU.  I can't brush that kind of "attack" aside anymore.  I've had a couple now, and I've got to get to the bottom of this. 

If you could please say a prayer for me  for strength and for the doctors for wisdom, I'd appreciate it.  I don't know what tomorrow holds, or if my legs or arms will let me do what I want when tomorrow gets here, but I have to find out what this is and how to treat it.   Thanks.

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A complicated conversation

In our family, we love animals.  There are also a lot of allergies in our little family so our pets have to be as hypoallergenic as possible. Over the years, I have had 6 rabbits, a mouse, 6 guinea pigs, several Betta splendens, a gerbil and two Siamese.  Andrew had a rabbit briefly, however a new home was found for him because we developed allergies.  :-(  We didn't have a pet for a few years because we didn't want to get one and have to give it away again.  Then we got our dog, a Scottish Terrier/Poodle mix named Bailey.  He is wonderful and has brought us so much joy!  Well, when Andrew wanted a pet we had to look at what kind of little critter we could get that I'm not allergic to.  That didn't leave much.  We settled on a Mali Uromastyx, and she is just the neatest lizard!!  Matthew is now campaigning for a small Russian Tortoise, and I think it will work out.  He'll have to earn everything, just like Andrew did, of course.

A few weeks ago our little Uromastyx, Sweetie (full name to be revealed soon), wasn't doing well and needed to see a vet.  Reptile vets are not particularly easy to come by, but we found a great one not far from us.  I made the appointment and Andrew and I took the lizard, in her traveling bag, off to the vet.  Upon arrival and filling out the paperwork, I learned that the lizard's full name is: Sweetie-pie Elizabeth Borgmeyer.  It turns out, poor Sweetie wasn't getting warm enough in her enclosure even though we had everything set up like we were supposed to.  And, we weren't feeding her correctly either.  We learned a lot that day about exotic animals; just 'cause the breeder told you one thing, doesn't mean that's actually the best thing to do.  And, Pet Smart doesn't have a freaking clue about proper care for a Uromastyx, which makes me wonder about their advice for other critters...but that's another blog altogether!  We were sent home with a course of antibiotics, hypodermic syringes, a lesson in how to administer the antibiotics, and new feeding guidelines, as well as the type of heat emitter she needed to have.  Wow!

Today was our follow up exam for Sweetie.  We met with a different vet today and had yet another fantastic experience and learned even more!!  I noticed that the vet kept picking Sweetie up and examining her cloaca carefully, and he explained that although her coloration was clearly female, her "parts" were rather ambiguous and could be indicative that she is actually a he.   The vet showed me what he was seeing and why he was questioning Sweetie's gender...  Andrew was then wondering if we needed to change her (his?) name, even suggesting "Stan" instead of Sweetie... but the vet and I explained that the actual gender didn't really matter because the name was already established, so why change it.

During this whole conversation I was suppressing the giggles.  Only we would have a gender-bending lizard.  On the way home I called Gus and let him know how Sweetie was doing, and then we got the giggles over her (his?) "gender identity crisis".  Andrew, who is quite sensitive, was not particularly happy about Gus and I giggling over it all.  I explained that when we got home he and I would have a conversation about why Daddy and I were sharing a laugh, and that we were not laughing at Sweetie or her gender, whatever it may be.

When we got home Matthew played on his DS while Andrew and I had a conversation that I certainly never thought would be sparked over a lizard!  I asked if he was familiar with the term "homosexual" or "gay" and what did he think that meant.  He gave me a great answer, that it meant someone wanted to be with someone else of the same gender.  I told him that was correct, and we talked about some of the struggles people in those positions deal with, and how as Christians we need to live as Jesus taught us, to show people who we are by our love, to not judge others, and to be kind to those in our lives and in our world regardless of who they love.  To my dear, compassionate Andrew this was only a logical way to do things, and when I explained that many wave the banner of religion and say and do horrible things to people who are homosexual he was truly appalled.  He looked at me with shock and asked, "Why would people do that?"  All I could say was, "honey, I don't know." 

I can tell you that honestly I'm not particularly fond of seeing two men or two women kiss.  It's just not my bag.  I am not saying that they shouldn't be allowed to kiss, I just don't wanna watch.  But if I do see two people of the same gender kiss I'm not going to get all crazy and tell them to stop.  I'll just turn my head.  Why should someone not be able to express their love for their partner based on my preference?  I can just turn my head.  I don't stare and gawk at hetero's kissing, so really it's not a big deal.  Hand holding, the intimate conversations, what have you, to me I see it as something nice, it's two people who want to be together and are enjoying each others company.  And, if they do kiss and I don't want to see it, well my neck does this neat thing, hey everyone's does, and it turns so I can actively choose what I do and don't look at...  Maybe we should start reminding people that just because they don't want to look at it doesn't make it wrong, and that their necks turn, too!

When Matthew gets his tortoise it'll be interesting to see what conversations that inspires!!

So, it's my fault I'm crazy?

I've wanted to write so many things, and I've just not had time.  Today I have something I neeeed to express and fortunately I have a little bit of "free" time.

Last night Andrew reacted out of anger in a way that was so hard for me to swallow...I was in disbelief.  He took his fury out on his brother, whom Andrew was certain was the perpetrator of an act that he didn't actually witness, and held his conviction even after his brother said he didn't do it.  Andrew has a vicious temper, and we've been working with him for years to learn how to reign it in and keep a lid on it.  It's one thing to feel frustration and anger, it's another to loose control completely and go berserk!!  There are times when he is able to control his actions and step away from the situation and I make sure that whenever I learn of those times or see them myself I praise him for how he handled the situation and let him know that I'm proud of his effort and his use of those positive methods.

So last night Andrew went crazy on Matthew, and Gus was with a client far, far away.  I texted him and asked him to call me.  We talked, and I took Andrew to his group and talked to one of the leaders about the situation and asked him to just keep an extra eye on Andrew and also be available if he's having a hard time.  And I went to choir.  In choir we met with our small group prayer teams and I asked for prayer for Andrew's anger management issue and for wisdom in how to help him.  A friend of mine suggested a Bible study that could help, and after the meeting was done she showed me how to get a 14 day study on my cell phone for free.  Wahoo!  I love free!!  But then... she said it was a wonderful study and that after doing it and really getting into it I wouldn't need any medication any more...  Ummm, what?  That's like telling a diabetic they can read a book and never have to take insulin again.  She told me, as so many others have, that "it's God's will to heal me".  Yeahhhh....  I agree that in one way or another, whether in this life or upon the arrival to heaven I will be relieved of bipolar, anxiety and all the other medical "accessories" I have.  But I know that it's not meant to happen now, and that I need to just trust God and His timing.  This is not something that I can tell God what and how to do what He already has planned.

What really puts me on edge, however, was her insistance that she was absolutely correct and that I am mistaken and how God wants to deliver me from these burdens and restore me, today!  This line of preaching to peers of God's plans "for everyone" is so dangerous, and the people preaching it don't realize it.  For so many, many years, as I struggled with depression, with hypo-mania, mixed episodes, anxiety attacks, emotional pain, flashbacks, nightmares, I would hear these ladies (and some men) pontificate on God's glorious healing plan; if only I would read my Bible, if only I would believe fully, then He would reach down from His throne and remove it all and allow me to be whole.  And year after year I stuggled, year after year I read my Bible, went to church, sang in choir, did Bible study groups, I was even "delivered" from an as-yet-unnamed negative spirit.  But year after year my life inside my mind was a downward spiral.  You cannot understand the pain unless you yourself have been there.  You can read about someone else's accounts, you can watch someone suffer, but what you see, the words you read, are only part of it.  The pain of depression is agonizng, crippling, it hurts your sould so badly.  I can tell you that suicide is not the cowards way out and anyone who says it is is an insensitive jerk.  If you aren't in that persons's heart, head, or life for every waking and sleeping moment then you have no room whatsoever to judge their pain.

If someone is diabetic they can appear healthy, until you see the insulin needle, or the medicine with a laundry list of side effects.  If someone is blind then they often have dark glasses and a cane or a dog.  If someone is deaf they speak with their hands.  But if someone has a mental illness you have no way of knowing by looking at them.  Scyzophrenia is quite obvious, so is a psychotic break alone or triggered by bipolar mania.  But what about the more subtle yet insidious illnesses like bipolar II or unipolar depression?  What about those?  Sometimes you can recognize the symptoms, but if you are just watching from a far, even in you're casual friends...how would you know?  And yet so many want to tell me how I can fix it, how I won't need medicine any more, if only I would blah, blah, blah.

You know something, it doesn't work that way!!

I have a friend who was in a terrible accident years ago and broke his back.  His spinal column was spared and he can walk, but he must wear a brace, he walks with a cane and although he's had surgeries his back is still broken.  He and his family are very involved in their faith, their church and in a wonderful ministry outreach.  But for a long time there was a wedge between his wife and him.  You see, she felt that if he only believed, truly believed, that God would heal him then he would be be able to run and jump and leap.  She felt so strongly that he must not be reading his Bible enough, that he must not be faithful enough that she became mad at him, resentful of him and his lack of faith.  She was so wound around the idea of immediate divine restoration that she couldn't even consider that perhaps God had another plan for her husband and she didn't know everything about God after all.

The continued preaching of immediate divine healing is appealing and has been made popular in movies as a subject for satire and inspiration, both.  My issue is not with whether God can or will heal me or not.  My issue is with someone being so stubborn that their idea must be right, that they know God so well, that I am mistaken and must be corrected and prayed over...and if I'm not healed as they expect me to be it must be my fault.

God has done amazing things in my life.  He's used counselors and therapy techniques to bring me through the trauma of my past and allow me peace.  I haven't had a flashback or nightmare in almost a year!!  Truly, praise God for that!  But the thing is that freedom from my past didn't come because I prayed it away or read scripture to make it go away.  It happened because I saught professional help, and I worked at it, too.  I prayed for years for the nightmares and the hurt in my memories to leave me, but they didn't until I got help designed for my problem. 

When the people told me I just needed to pray and the depression would lift, that I just needed to pray and my mind would clear, that I needed to read scripture, recite verses, listen to praise music and God would restore me, I believed them.  And I did what they said, for so long.  And things didn't get better.  Actually they got worse.  I was beside myself with pain and guilt and an overwhelming knowledge that I wasn't even good enough for God to care about.  I mean, everyone was telling me what I needed to do and I was doing it all and still there was no relief.  How could there be no relief?  I was doing everything, I did believe that God could do it.  But since He wasn't doing anything to help me, to save me from the pit I lived in, I must deserve to be there.  I must be a terible person.  If He can do all things, and he's not doing this for me...I must not deserve it.  And I couldn't fight that fight any longer.  I began to pray to die, I wanted to no longer live because life hurt so much and on top of that I had been rejected by God.

One day as I was slumped on the bedroom floor in misery, beggin to die, a small voice whispered in my head, "What about Andrew?"  My Andrew... so young, so vulnerable and so in need of me in his life.  Ironic, isn't it?  I was convinced God didn't want me to be healed because I wasn't good enough for him to heal, and yet he had just spoken to my heart the only thing that could have ever kept me alive.  And I clung to that, the voice reminding me of how much Andrew would need me, through the darkest hours.  For years after I was diagnosed, after I began medication, my mind slowed and I understood I do have value, it was hard to look at God as one who saw value in me because I was haunted by the people who had told me how I could be healed if I would only...

I would love to wake up and have a clear mind, peace in my heart always, no more surprise anxiety attacks, no mood concerns, no physical pain, no internal pain, no tummy issues, ever again.  But right now, that's not God's plan for me.  I don't know why.  Mostly I'm okay with things the way they are.  But sometimes things are so hard, and I do get mad at God and ask Him why He thinks this is okay to put me through.  I understand that I will never understand His plan, and since I can't change it I have to accept it and make the best of life by seeking out and enjoying all of the blessings and gifts I can find, whether those beautiful gifts are small or big or quirky.  And I focus on those because there's enough crap in life every day that if I didn't make joy a priority I'd be as miserable with a mountain of drugs just as if I didn't have any.

So, take this as a cautionary tale.  No human knows the mind and will of God, and for you to tell someone you do is overstepping your bounds in a big way.  We can always pray for each other, for whatever they need and whatever your heart tells you they need.  But when it comes to mental health issues, watch your step.  Your "supportive comments" of healing and delivery and restoration are almost always so much more harmful than you can imagine.  In telling someone they need to read or believe more/a certain way you've just told them that there is a formula for salvation and deliverence and healing and that they're apparently not smart enough to figure it out, or not really a true enough believe to qualify for those particular benefits.

I would like to suggest we as Christians stop the demon hunt on mental illness and see it for what it is: a medical problem which should be handled by professionals, for which there is no shame in admitting you need!  No one asks for any illness, be it cancer or flesh eating bacteria or psychosis.  Why do we have compassion for the cancer patient, compassion for the victim of the virus, yet try to tell the person living in a hell on earth in their mind that it's essentially their own fault?  This makes no sense.  We as a community of believers need to put this into context and have compassion and for goodness sake get educated on this!  The information is all around you!  Read it!  You may be able to stop a vicious cycle of misinformation and being a new cycle of love, acceptance and help being more available to those who need it.

Family Day

The "busy season" is upon us.  Gus is working 6 days a week, sometimes 12 hours a day.  I've got girls 4 days a week at varying hours, and then there's the boys.  It's hard to balance our obligations, chores, desired activities, play time, and enough time to sleep.  Something Gus and I worked out a while ago was the need for him to have one complete weekend a month just for family.  No clients on that chosen Saturday, no big plans for Sunday afternoon.  Of course it would be wonderful to have time together like that every weekend, but life simply isn't like that.

We started our Saturday off by sleeping in to a ridiculously late hour - for us.  The boys got up sometime before we did, but occupied themselves quietly.  At 9 am they came and asked permission to watch or do something, I don't remember, and Gus was coherent enough to give a reasonable reply.  At 9:20 we got up, and as the coffee brewed I made a breakfast of eggs and ham and toast.  Eventually we were all cleaned up, dressed and ready to head out to the store to get what we would need for our hike up Multnomah Falls.  We got water and cucumbers and chips for the hike, and sandwiches and soda and strawberries for our picnic afterword.

Gus drove us east to the Columbia River Gorge and very soon we were travelling beside the mighty Columbia, with a railway on the other side of us.  The scenery became more lush and the hills grew as they marched into the distance, covered in various shades of green.  The sky was overcast, but we didn't care.  We had the boys turn off their electronics and look out the window.  We saw Osprey soaring above the trees, a pair of Bald Eagles playing around their enormous nest, and miles of beautiful trees in more shades of green that I can name.  The Columbia rolled on beside us, going the opposite direction we were.  As we looked up the side of the hill to our right we could see the guard rail of the Scenic Highway 30. 

Finally we arrived at the Falls.  We parked and climbed out and began our hike.  We walked to the base of the falls, where there's a gift shop and restaurant and an espresso bar.  Gus carried the backpack, I had Bailey's leash, and the boys walked along with us, looking at everything and gazing in wonder at the height of the falls and the way the water spray disappeared into the air.  Then we began our hike in earnest.  The trail was paved, making it easier to traverse, although where it was wet from the spray it was a little slippery.  We climbed up and up, higher and higher.  There were 11 switchbacks, and each section of trail became steeper.  There were a few times where I thought I was going to have to stop and let the guys go on ahead, but Gus was supportive and encouraging, allowing me to rest until I could continue.  Most of the time it was the need to catch my breath that slowed me down.  My legs were mostly willing, but my lungs weren't.  That's part of having asthma.  But we had so much fun looking at everything around us, old rock slides where the rocks were covered in beautiful green moss, trees hanging precariously onto the hillside, downed trees with roots in the air.  We saw chipmunks and birds and a banana slug.  And we looked at the plantlife, the trees that seemed to stretch right up to heaven, the amazing natural alcoves in the rocks where the boys made up stories of hiding and camping.  As we reached the apex of the trail we could hear the powerful force of the water cascading down the cliff. 

When you reach the top of the trail it actually descends a little bit, and you are brought to the most incredible location.  The stream that feeds the falls runs fast and cold, skimming over rocks and boulders, becoming white and frothy as the water cascades by on it's course to succumb to gravity.  On the banks of the stream (riverlet?) are more boulders and rocks, shiny with mist and spray.  As you go a little ways from the stream you find a truly primeval forest, with earthen trails carved into the landscape.  Many of the trees are old and have died, becoming moss covered crags standing in the midst of the lush and verdant life as reminders of the mortality we all will face.  Andrew and I took pictures of the amazing nature around us.  The pictures on our hike up we nice, and we took pictures of each other and some of the scenery.  But the pictures we took at top were unbelievable.  Even though they were taken with cell phone cameras the pictures look professional because you truly can't take a bad picture there.

We stopped at a spot where two boulders sat side by side creating the perfect spot to rest and had a snack and gave Bailey some water.  We ran into friends and chatted and laughed, then continued to explore this remarkable forest. 

Then it was time to pack everything up and head back down the hill.  I'll tell you right now that down was tremendously easier than up!  When we reached the bottom of the trail, back at the gift shop and such, we headed back to the truck for our dinner of sandwiches and pizza Lunchables while sitting on the tailgate of the truck.  Then we loaded up and headed up the highway to the exit to get on scenic highway 30.  It was so lovely!  There weren't very many cars on the 2 lane highway that afternoon, and we drove along at a carefree speed just enjoying everything around us.  We drove by a huge house I spent some time in one summer years ago and as I watched the trees go by I enjoyed the memories of that time.

We arrived at Crown Point and the Vista House.  There were pay-telescopes along the edge of the pedestrian area, and of course the boys wanted to try them out.  It was a day for adventure and appreciating nature after all.  But, the telescopes were permanently positioned for people much taller than the boys.  So, Gus got on all fours and Matthew climbed up onto his back and knelt so he could see, we put quarters in the device and Matthew got to look down the valley carved by the Columbia, the green hills marching along its banks, fading into the distant mist.  When it was Andrew's turn Gus squatted into a sitting-like position and Andrew stood on his thighs so that he, too, could better see what was before us.  As he was looking he saw a train in the distance, snaking its way along the tracks on the Washington side. 

And then we all piled back into the truck, turned up the heater, and headed back home.  Gus and I talked about what we saw, trying to identify the delicate flowers and the creeping greenery that neither of us had ever seen before.  The boys played their handheld games and looked out the window periodically to see the landscape change from wilderness to urban.  Bailey sat on the front console trying to find a comfortable position to take a nap, he's not used to that much exercise either!!

When we arrived home everybody got baths, including the dog!  And that night we all slept well, thoroughly exhausted from our excursion.

I wonder what we'll do next month?

Pondering

So, after 5 months of talking to people at the medical financial office, faxing various documentation, having letters submitted from my doctor, twice, I was still in limbo as the ever mysterious "They" decided whether I was worthy of financial assistance.  Then the medical office called one morning while Gus was still home and he talked with them.  Gus and I have an interesting system going, kind of an unspoken yet well coordinated ballet of good guy/bad guy with collection agencies, customer service personnel, and general assorted bureaucratic nimrods.  I have been dealing with this particular medical office exclusively, so when Gus took the call this was the first time they had dealt with him.  The result of his conversation?  Everything is now all in order, I've been approved and have now shot forward in the diagnostic process and have my MRI scheduled.  I'm of two minds on this topic at the moment.  On the one hand, I'm thrilled that everything is settled and I can move forward now.  On the other hand, I'm quite pissed that it took my husband talking to these ladies (I never once spoke with a man at their offices) to actually accomplish something.  I was always honest, congenial, forthcoming and direct with them.  So...why couldn't they fix all this 4 months ago?  Ugh.

I've seen many MRI images used in diagnosis and for research, but I've never been the patient inside the tube.  I really didn't think much of the whole procedure...until I called to schedule mine.  The nice lady on the phone was asking me questions and letting me know what I needed to NOT wear, including my nose-piercing.  Seems the surgical steel jewelry in my nostril would cause arc-ing in that area...which would kinda defeat the purpose of the scan of my brain!  Okay...I can accommodate that.  And no earrings.  And no underwire bra.  And no snaps or rivets, or metal grommets on any of my clothing.   Same for Gus if he's going to be in the room with me.  Then she asked if I have claustrophobia.  Um...I don't know.  I've never been in a situation where I've had that feeling, but I've never been in a giant tube for 2 hours either.  So we discussed that I may want to take a Lorazepam (or two) before the scan...in which case Gus absolutely has to come with me as they wouldn't let me drive home while medicated!

The MRI results will be used to confirm the diagnosis of MS, and allow the commencement of a treatment plan.  MS is visible in MRI scans as lesions in the brain and/or on the spinal column.  The whole disease is shrouded in a lot of mystery and confusion.  There is no known cause, there is no cure.  I've dealt with symptoms for a  year and a half now, and they're getting worse.  What started out as numbness in my right arm, both feet and right leg has progressed and migrated.  I now have persistent weakness in my hands, persistent numbness in my right arm, recurring pain in my knees, and terrible tummy junk.  Sucks!  There's so much crap!  And when the pain comes, which thank heaven's isn't often, it hurts so bad!  And there's nothing that I can take to alleviate the pain because it's not muscular, it's nerve pain.  The destruction of the brain and spinal cord cause the messages between the nerves to be confused and jumbled or just plain never received.  And this results in a person's body going haywire.  Lovely, huh?

Most days are okay.  Some days are picture perfect and I revel in them.  On those days I can actually forget that my hands don't usually work quite right or that my arm is temperamental or that my knees feel like they're 30 years older than the rest of me.  You know what's funny about those days?  I usually go about my usual routine and don't realize that my body is fully functioning until about 3 in the afternoon.  And when I do realize it, I say a little thank-you prayer, and do everything I possibly can.  Perhaps it's fatalist, but on those days I know that they are gifts, and they won't last long.  The norm is numbness and discomfort.  I can deal with that.  I can still do pretty much everything I could want to...maybe just a little slower or just with some serious determination and abject decision that I won't let it stop me.  And then there are days where I spend most of my time at least semi-horizontal.

The other day Andrew and I were having some play time with his lizard, Sweetie.  She is so cool!!  As we were on the floor with her my ankle decided to stop working and I winced with pain and had to readjust my leg and my position so the hurt would be eased.  I really do make sure not to say stuff about all this around the kids.  I want their childhood to be as full and normal as possible.  They know that Momma has MS, they know I'm bipolar, they know about the anxiety.  But I don't talk about it.  So when I winced and readjusted Andrew reached out and patted my "good" leg and said, "You know, the good thing about heaven is there's no pain there."  Yeah...I know...and honestly that is something I look forward to; no more pills, no more skin issues, no more allergies and asthma, no more pain and numbness... it will be a place of total restoration.  But I'm in no rush to get there, I'm not done here yet!!  My boys bring me happiness, they bring me smiles, and their voices and laughter and giggles make my world as beautiful as it is.  Andrew is so...I don't even know how to describe him, he's such an original!  Matthew is so precious, so funny, so tender, so loving.  He's going to grow up and be a wonderful husband and father one day.  Some parents try to have their children think that the child owes the parents everything just because the parents brought them into this world.  I want my boys to respect me because I'm their mom, but I know that I wouldn't be the person I am without them, and I treasure them as gifts.  Each night I tell my boys that I love them as well as a few of the things that make them so special.  What a great way to end the day, to be affirmed by your mom.  I figure it's something I wish I could have had, so I'll make sure my boys have it, and they in turn can share with their children why they are wonderful!

Arrrgh...

Why? Why? WHY?  Why are soo many Christians so condemning, judgemental and full of preconceived notions?  Oh, it is so frustrating!!  Didn't Jesus tell us to love our neighbor  Doesn't it say in the New Testament that they'll "know you're Christians by your love?"  What has happened?  You're right, there are things the Bible says are "no-no's", but are we supposed to judge people because they've made mistakes or they have an illness?  I'm not saying let murderers go free.  If you've done something illegal, you need to face the consequences.  But when the person has paid their dues, why are they still treated like they carry the plague?  Or what about homeless people?  Or those suffering addiction?  Or those trying to cope with a mind clouded with illness?  Where is the compassion for them?  Can you, anyone, tell me why we as a people will spend billions of dollars to watch people play sports (key word - play), yet we turn our backs on those who desperately need help.  Why should some guy who can play a sport get millions each year for running around and I go downtown and see people who've lost everything huddling around what few possessions they have left while trying to figure out if they will eat today.  WTF...something is wrong.  And it's not a problem for the Republicans or Democrats or the President or whomever.  It's a problem for all of us.  If enough people spoke out, began a movement and were truthful about the plight of so many, maybe there would be a change.

A friend of mine posted something on his Facebook page about supporting Mental Health Awareness, and one of his friends posted something to which I could completely relate.  He commented on the difficulty of suffering from a mental illness in the Christian church community.  So many, so dang many, keep saying things like, "Just pray", or "God will heal you", or the occasional "You need to have more faith, then you'll be healed".  Argh!  It doesn't work that way!!  I'm not saying there is no divine healing, there is and I have experienced it.  But God isn't just there to take personal direction.  He has a greater plan that we have no way of comprehending, and it's not necessarily part of his plan to ease your suffering or remove your medical malady.  If God healed everyone that was prayed for then I know a lot of people who would still be with us. I think that there is a time to pray for healing and then there's a time to pray for pain to be eased and for the Lord to take them home.  I believe so often we pray for the healing of others because we can't accept that we will lose them so we try to put those thoughts off with this much nicer idea.  But that's another article.

If Jesus himself told us to love our neighbors, do you think he meant it conditionally?  I don't have that version of the Bible if he did.  My copies of the Bible are full of him teaching people how to live in the world but not of it.  He taught them that it wasn't their job to judge (remember how much he liked the Pharisees?) but rather to live as an example to them. 

It is stated in the Bible that God's not a fan of homosexuality.  Does that really mean that now we all have the green light to be rude to, mean to, discriminatory or to persecute homosexuals?  Um, NO.  We have to be responsible for our own lives, and how we raise our children.  And, last time I checked, Jesus was the only perfect human and he told us to love them. 

The concept of homosexual marriage is a loaded one.  If you look at it from a religious perspective, then technically shouldn't anyone who is married by someone who is not a religiously ordained person have that marriage be nullified?  Or what about those who go into marriage with the knowledge they won't be having children?  Do their marriages still count?  And what about marriages performed by those of religions who don't recognize God?  Do they still have legal and binding marriages?  I think first we need to agree on the purpose of marriage before we decide who can and get be married. 

Yet, when all is said and done the root of the problem still remains: there are people out there loudly announcing that they are Christians while spewing hate and condemnation in the same breath.  It's not okay.  If someone is a Christ follower then they need to follow all of his teachings, not just the ones they want to.

Wanting to hope

I think it's safe to say we all know that I've been through a lot in my 36 years of life.  Some of the stuff I've been through makes it hard to trust, especially someone in authority.  Fortunately I've pretty much gotten rid of all "authority" figures in my life.  No...I'm not writing this from prison!  I mean as a grown woman with my own family I really don't have to "answer to" my parents any more, and I'm not employed so I don't have a boss.  I view my husband as my partner, and the moms of my childcare girls are my friends.  So, that just leaves the generic ones like law enforcement, and the Big One...  I am really not good at trusting God with important things.  I suppose it's because I really don't appreciate how He's chosen to handle things thus far, so why would I think He'd handle them or arrange them or whatever them in a way I'd like now or in the future? 

Don't get me wrong, I know that in His wisdom He arranges things the way He knows will work to His glory and for our best (yeah, I do think it's in that order).  I didn't ask to be flat broke the majority of my adult life.  I've gone to school, I've had some good careers, and I'm married to a smart, intelligent, capable and resourceful man.  But here we are.  I certainly never would have asked for or even agreed to have a mental disorder, but I have a doozy of a disease that can incapacitate without proper medication.  And, do you know anyone who would say, "Ya know Lord, I'd like a disease that slowly debilitates my body rendering my limbs and potentially my eyes useless, with lots of discomfort and spasms and pain"?  Ummm, yeah, I didn't think so.  We live in a very nice apartment with a garage in a nice part of town.  It would be a lot nicer if we had a house...but my home is comfortable for me and my needs.  Growing boys do need more room, and my husband is a lover of big open spaces, and it would be nice for guests to sleep in a room with a bed rather than the futon couch in the living room.

There is a house that is for sale that is amazing, beautiful and I wouldn't have to change the interior much, if at all.  It's an old house, 100 years old, that has been well maintained and loved and cared for.  It's remodeled and amazing.  It's also on a big piece of land that could very easily be rated for a vineyard.  I want to run and jump and hoot and holler and tell you everything that's amazing about it, that makes it perfect, but that's not the point of this time here.  The point is: how do I step out and hope that we could possibly get it??  See, I don't ever hope for anything anymore because it hurts when your hopes and desires and dreams are dashed.  How do you come to terms with that?  Gus asked me a while ago what goals I had.  Goals?  Are you nuts?  So many of the the things I have wanted were taken away, the things I deserved were denied, and now I'm just happy when I can actually hold a pencil.  My dreams of a house, of breeding beautiful dogs, having a house full of kids and music, a kitchen big enough for everyone to be in at once, a bay window seat with big pillows to read books in the sunlight, a grand staircase with a bannister the kids can actually slide down and a beautiful yard, bunny hutches and a big veggie garden...I'm afraid to actually embrace that dream because what if it doesn't happen...again. 

I suppose a big part of it is that I am a passionate person.  When I have a dream I embrace it and cherish it and I can't help but really WANT it.  It is my dream to get to Paris, France, one day.  I don't know how I'll do it, or when, but I figure that even if I'm an old lady and have to be pushed in a wheelchair, as long as I'm there I'll be happy.  But with the house and the yard it's different.  I want that for me, yes, but I also want it for my boys and for Gus.  It's not just what would be nice for me that's on the line, it's my family.  And that makes it so much more important, and so much harder when it doesn't work out.  I become indignant.  I feel like it's one thing if I can't have something, I'll pout and whine and get over it and "oh well".  But it's another thing if you deny my boys what they deserve.  Then I get bitter.  I see no reason at all to deny them the experience of financial stability and a comfortable home and a yard to run around in.  Kids deserve this!!  I am aware I'm not the only mom to have these feelings and desires for her family, nor will I be the only mom who deals with the frustration of not being able to give those things to her kids.  But that doesn't make it any easier to struggle through!

How does one do it?  How does one look to heaven and simply say, "I trust you.  It's in your hands" and then actually let the stress go?  I can say the words and I can want it to be that way...but it doesn't mean it actually is that way, you know?  I want to hope, I want to dream, but... I have fear.  I have a nagging fear that for whatever reason I'll always be denied my beautiful house and my financial security.  :-(  I haven't gotten it yet and SO many of my contemporaries have.  (Please refer to previous blog at this point, even though I'm the one doing what I say we shouldn't.  I'm human...) 

I do struggle with feelings of inadequacy and bitterness and I trudge my weary self through the valley of "why" quite often.  I try not to, I try to stay focused on the good, the blessings, the positive, and I really do try to trust in Him.... but.  There's always a "but", isn't there?  So, do I ask my friends for prayers to be able to get the home and everything it brings?  Or do I ask my friends for emotional numbness when it falls through?  Or do I ask for the strength to hold onto hope in the face of fearing it will never happen? Ugg. 

I think I'll go take a nap.

Blessings

Oh goodness!!  There is and has been so much going on!  Some days I just want to step away, climb back into my bed and take a nap.  But that's not always an option now, is it?  Oh well.

Andrew has become part of a thing at school where the kids have daily goal sheets and progress trackers.  It has been really helpful for him, and for us, as we are better able to identify his triggers and also better able to motivate and reward him.  Andrew and I have also been able to come to a better understanding of each other as we all help him succeed.  He was going through a phase of exaggerating stories and making things up and also beginning to tell lies.  My history with lying is pretty extensive (when I was a kid) so it's almost impossible to pull one over on me.  So I let the little exaggerations go at first, but then I would simply say, "that doesn't sound right, why don't you try that again".  But then it got a little bigger...  Finally one day I took Andrew aside and explained to him that he was at a precipice and he could go one of two ways: either he could be a man of his word, a man of integrity who chose right over wrong and honesty over easy and live his life according to the Bible and as Jesus taught, or he could do what he wanted without regard for anyone around him and lose all trust from his friends and family.  I admitted that I can't make him do anything, but while he's living in our home I do have rules he has to follow.  And I told him it was his choice what direction he wanted to take, and left it at that.  I haven't brought it up again because I haven't needed to.  Matthew on the other hand has decided to try his hand at deceiving me.  Not a good idea.  i've had to resort to doing random pocket and bag checks in the morning.  The other day Matthew pulled a doozey and totally got caught (will they ever learn?) and lost some privileges for 2 days.  Maybe that will have sent in the message.

So, in my life I've dealt with a lot of crap.  And it really is easy to get sucked into the "poor me" way of thinking, or pulled into the emotional valley of "Why?!".  But I've discovered that it doesn't do any good to think like that.  Nothing gets accomplished, there's no healing or forward momentum, and people get sick of hearing it, too!  Oh, don't get me wrong, sometimes you just need to vent and be honest about the sucky situation you may be in, and that's when a good friend or an understanding spouse are invaluable!!  Sometimes at the end of the day when my body has given up and I'm tired of hurting and stress I just need to eject those grumpy feelings to someone who understands what they are.  Then I can push my shoulders back and look at life headlong and know I can keep going.  I've experienced the pit of depression where you feel as if you're at the bottom of a well and all of the joy in the world eludes you.  I know what it's like to have my entire sight misted over with a cloud of blackness that stains my heart.  I know what it's like to beg God to not have to wake up in the morning.  But I'm here because of my kids, specifically because of Andrew.  He was so young and my life was so torn apart, my mind was not my own and I couldn't keep anything together.  My marriage was a shambles and I was unable to reach out to friends because I didn't think anyone would understand.  What kept me breathing was Andrew.  His white blond hair, his amazing sweet voice, his golden eyes.  His strong will was my enemy and my gift.  Whenever I thought of ending my life to relieve myself of the pain of depression that I couldn't escape, I thought of that little boy a few feet away, and how would he soldier through life without me?  I knew that he needed me in a way I couldn't explain, I just knew it in my soul.  I knew that Andrew was a strong little person, but that he also needed his mother to love and protect and guide him.  I knew that without me that strength of character could so easily become a wall of bitterness and anger.  I was chosen to be his momma because God knew I would need Andrew as much as he needs me. 

Matthew was a gift of unconditional love and affection, which every girl needs!!  Andrew is very independent and as much as he does love his momma, and wants to hug and snuggle, he's got so much to do and think about that he only snuggles for so long before he's off to experiment and draw.  Matthew, on the other hand, is more than content to snuggle on a lap for a long time, reading books, watching shows or playing video games.  And at night he's happiest when he's had a cup of milk and can wrap his arm around my neck and tuck in next to me.  Oh, I'm sure eventually he'll outgrow that, but as I told him earlier I'm going to suck up each and every snuggle I can, absorbing it into my skin. 

My boys are truly treasures to me.  And when my days are all messed up, when I'm in pain or feeling not quite right, I look forward to being with my boys and enjoying the incredible people they are. 

I'm really fortunate in that I get to stay home with my boys, and enjoy my friend's girls and make a little money, too.  The girls are really neat kids and when all the kids are together it is noisy, but it's also usually fun, too.  And the little one has begun to really talk.  She has her own way of saying almost everyone's names that just make us smile.  It takes me back to when the boys were beginning to talk.  It's so cute how little ones figure out how to pronounce certain words.  For a long lime Charlie called me "Gigi", but has recently begun to refer to me as, "Ahs-a-geek".  I think I preferred "Gigi".  Gus is "Duss", Andrew is "Doo" and Matthew, well, she's not even trying that yet.  How awesome is it that my friend and I have an arrangement like this where I get to enjoy her girls and grocery money and dog grooming, and she knows that her girls are safe and cared for and having fun! 

All this to say, when things seem hard, almost impossible, it's so easy to become tunnel-visioned on our own misfortune.  But what about those around us?  Do you really know anyone who's been able to go through life unscathed?  I have friends who seem to have it "all", but in fact they do struggle with things, you just may not know it.  Do you have friends with a great job and a beautiful house and nice cars?  What you may not know is that their child is struggling medically or socially and they're trying to just live life and not draw attention to it.  Or maybe you have friends who have great professional jobs and big house, but what about the wife's emotional limitations?  What about the husband's relationship hang-ups with his parents?  How about the single friend who doesn't have any relationship attachments and all the freedom you used to?  What you may not know is they would give anything for a stable relationship and a mortgage payment and they're envying you.  What about your friend's mom who was just diagnosed with cancer?  Or your friend who just lost his grandmother?  Or the one with the crappy boss?  Everyone, everywhere has garbage in their lives.  And surprisingly, people who have so much more than we do are not immune to the same things we deal with. 

Whirlwind of a Day

The day started off at 6:50 am.  There was no school, and I turned of the boy's alarm clock the night before so they could sleep in a bit.  But the little buggers didn't sleep in at all...in fact they got up earlier than a regular school day!  Why do they do that?  Seriously, why do they drag their everything on school days when they need to get up and moving, but on weekends they are up at the crack of way-too-early!  Sheesh.  Yet, I have to admit, I remember getting up early on Saturday mornings, very early, and my parents asking the same thing of me.  Oh well.

Today was our first day with baby Faith.  Oh, what a sweet little dumpling she is!!  She's tiny, and when you hold her she smooshes into you, just right, and her head smells like delicate flowers and her eyes are amazing.  And for the most part she's very easy going and content...unless she's hungry or stinky.  Then she really lets you know that she has a need and you have to tend to it, after you figure out what need of hers needs to be met! 

When her daddy brought her this morning with all her various accessories, he was very organized in his way of showing me what everything was and how it worked.  I got the biggest kick out of that!  Such a good, protective daddy, making sure his baby princess will receive the utmost care.  But still, having had two of my own and cared for how many others in various settings... *sigh*, I smiled, nodded, and let him show me because he had to make sure he remembered everything and he wanted to be sure there were no possible questions that arose when it was just baby and me.  The pack-and-play was just like the last one I fought with (Faith's daddy had a better hang of the mechanics than her mommy and I), and the Snugli could have been the very one I used to put Andrew in.  Her car seat was identical to the ones the boys had, but her bouncy seat was the fancy kind with vibrations and music.  When they arrived this morning, Bailey went into his usual chorus, or rather cacophony, of barks to warn us of an interloper and when I opened the door to a strange man carrying very foreign, big things he was fit to be tied.  I put him on the balcony, which is "doggy time out".  The boys descended on Faith with coos and gentle strokes of her cheek.  We got out the big vat of hand sanitizer and I set the rule that before the kids touched her, they needed to wash their hands with soap and water, or use the sanitizer.  They were fanatical about that sanitizer.  After a while the other girls arrived and were immediately in love with the baby too.  But almost as soon as they walked in the door Andrew was there with the sanitizer for them!  It was so cute!  Usually, the big girls are great about where their coats and shoes go when they arrive (coats on hooks, shoes on rack), but with this tiny little person to become acquainted with, coats and shoes were strewn on the floor in the general sorta vicinity of their intended destination.  Coat, shmoat!  There's a BABY! 

I knew that the big kids, Andrew and Kylee, would be phenomenal helpers, and that Matthew and Dilynn would be able to help as well.  I was concerned that Charlie (almost 2 years) would not be happy to share my lap with the infant, but it turned out that she was amazing!!  When I gave the baby her bottle Faith had a hard time at first because I'm not who she wanted me to be.  I thought about doing what that old commercial did and printing out a life-size pic of her mommy's face and putting it over mine as a mask, but I think she would have known I wasn't the real deal when I spoke.  Oh well.

At lunch time everyone was hungry.  So Andrew and I took it in shifts to occupy Faith while I prepared her bottle and lunch for everyone else.  Then Matthew peeled the cucumbers, Andrew sliced them, Kylee and Andrew plated lunch, Dilynn set the table, and Charlie helped me give the baby some of her bottle.  We had popcorn chicken, seasoned French-fries, cucumbers and chocolate milk.  While we were eating, Charlie offered one of here cucumber slices to the baby!  After lunch the kids took their plates and cups to the sink and tucked in their chairs.  These kids were so incredibly helpful and responsible!  Have I been underestimating them all this time?  Or did they just kick it up a notch for the peace and quiet of a contented baby?  Either way, I am grateful for their teamwork today.  Amazing kids!!

Faith cat napped here and there, and she took two good naps, one of which was while in the Snugli.  It took me back to Andrew's infancy and allowed me to enjoy some of those same special, warm, snugly moments.  Charlie, on the other hand, had a much rougher time with naps.  Just when she was sound asleep, both times, she was awakened much too soon.  Andrew and I got Charlie's nap spot all set, and she climbed up her step-stool onto the bed and into her spot (she was really tired!), and we covered her, gave her the bear she loves to sleep with, and turned on her special sleepy-time music.  Then Andrew laid down with her, held her hand and smiled at her, as she fell asleep.  Unfortunately the poor little sweetheart didn't get to enjoy her slumber, and I really am sorry for her.  But, amazingly, incredibly, she wasn't fussy or demanding in spite of it. 

At one point I got a call from a friend of mine letting me know that her mother was very ill.  I don't want to say too much, I don't want to give away info that isn't mine to give, but suffice it to say this is a potentially bleak situation.  My friend's mom isn't particularly old, but her life hasn't been very easy on her.  Maybe no one's life is exactly easy...I don't know.  But I'm sad for my friend.  It hasn't really sunk in yet she said.  I can understand that.  I feel bad for my friend's mom, no one deserves what she's facing...ever.  I told Andrew a little of what was going on because he saw my reaction when I got the news and he was very concerned.  He asked what would happen to her.  How do you answer that while still holding onto hope, not scaring the child, and honoring your religion?  I told him that there's nothing we can do, that it's all God's plan.  I explained that if God wants my friend's mom in heaven now then we need to honor His will.  Yeah, it would be hard for us here because we would miss her, but if He needs her, then that's His plan and we'll support each other when we feel her absence the most.  But I also told him that God works in amazing and mysterious ways and if it's His will to heal her, if it's not her time to go be with Jesus yet, then of course we would rejoice and praise God for the miracle, and we would treasure our time with her that much more.  But I told him the most important thing to do is pray for God's will, and be here for our friends.  He understood.  If anything happens,... you know what?  I'm not going to say it.  I'm not going to put it out there.  Just, if you could, please pray for that family...

That's the circle of life, isn't it? Holding a 3 month old baby in y0ur arms and hearing of a grandmother's illness while the house is abuzz with kids and energy.  Our time here is brief.  I know, lots of cliches here, but they're said so often because they're true.  Love your family and friends, be kind to strangers, give from your heart without expectation, and be open to His will.  That's how you lead a full, successful life.  You can't take anything with you when you go, but hopefully you will meet those you loved in a place with golden streets when your time comes.

Perspective

As a family, we really are no different than most others.  Gus and I are parents who love our children, who are working almost every day a week to put food on the table and pay the bills.  Our boys are intelligent and beautiful, and dealing with their own growing pains.  We have "drama" between family members, we have fun with our friends.  We deal with a few "extra" things like my medical crap and how to grow Gus's business with the least capital possible. But I've come to understand that every family, of whatever configuration, deals with stuff that's not much different than all that.  When you're raised in an abusive environment your mind is so focused on self preservation that you often don't see outsiders as people dealing with anything of their own.  I remember a moment at the time when I was going through counseling a few years ago, addressing the PTSD.  I was driving down a busy road, a highway, and I looked over at the car beside mine and saw the driver.  And then I looked behind me and saw that driver, and over a few car-lengths to that driver.  All around me were people going down the same road I was... those people weren't all going to the same destination but they were all going the same direction.  And as I sat there in traffic I began to wonder what their lives were like.  How many of them were married, had children, were going to or from work at that strange hour, what kinds of jobs did they have?  And then I began to wonder about their lives, their personal lives.  How many on that stretch of road were dealing with mental illness, cancer, addiction or abuse?  How many were enjoying their youth and doing the things that only the young can?  How many...  At my next counseling meeting I told my counselor about this epiphany, and how it made me feel oddly connected to everyone else around me.  She was happy for me because that type of revelation indicates real growth.  I've never looked at people the same since.  It's always fun to "people watch" because let's face it, people are really strange creatures!  And some of the outfits people bedeck themselves in can be quite awe-inspiring, and photo worthy.  I've seen people at the fair (why is it always at the fair?) that appear to have climbed out of an 80's music video for Lynnard Skynnard, and it's 2011.  But I no longer look at them with disdain and think insults at them.  I become curious.  I wonder what happened in their life at that time that they can't move forward.  And I wonder why no one has said anything to them.  And I wonder how clothes that are 30 years old can still look that well-preserved while being obviously worn.  Should I ask them about their laundry detergent choice?  And then I move on, because that's what we do.  We look, we ponder for a moment, and then we go on to the next thing.

Whenever I feel pissy about my stuff, the medical crap, and I really try not to but sometimes it creeps up on me and I find myself feeling quite pathetic, I look at my little family.  Andrew is so smart, too smart sometimes, he's handsome, strong, clever, and loves me so much.  And I look at Matthew, so beautiful, so funny, such a character, full of energy and curiosity, my favorite cuddler.  And I think of Gus (he's usually at work so I can't look at him) and I think of how hard he works, his integrity, how much better he's doing now than when he was in an office, and all he does for those around him.  And I realize how blessed I am.  I have a very nice home, I have fantastic friends and food in my fridge.  Yeah, sometimes I hurt, my tummy gets all messed up, and my moods are still an undercurrent, but look at what I DO have!  When I hurt, I can rest.  When I feel like my moods are out of whack I can take a "time out" or a pill (depending on which direction things are going).  When my tummy is not good, well, thank heavens for indoor plumbing!  They're simple things, but they matter. 

I can't stand people sending me sunshine-flower-rose-petal sappy crap.  Ugg.  Life isn't a flower patch.  It's kind of more like an arduous fight with a blackberry thicket; you fight your way through, trying to avoid the scratches, you pull up or chop down wicked canes full of thorns and try not to get snagged.  But sometimes you do and you have to stop forward momentum to fix the snag, then go back to the fight.  But oddly enough the blackberries also provide amazing sweet fruit that doesn't grow anywhere else, that you wouldn't be able to enjoy if you weren't there, in the midst of the thicket.

I also can't stand it when people only post scripture verses on their Facebook walls as their sole form of communication.  I have a bible, I know what it says.  What I don't know is how you are doing.  Tell me that, tell me the rough stuff, the fun stuff, the sad stuff...all of it.  That's what makes Facebook awesome, when we use it to actually connect with our friends.  Don't just show me what you had for dinner.  Tell me the goofy thing on the radio that made you laugh.  Tell me about the commercial that made you tear up because it reminded you of someone who is now gone.  Tell me about your insane cat, or your lazy dog.  Tell me that you're overwhelmed and lonely and I'll write to you or call you and tell you that you aren't really alone.  Tell me that you're having a fantastic day and I'll send you smiles.  But I don't want to see another Proverb or Psalm.  It's not a "ministry", it's not an outreach.  It's a great way to repel people.  It's also a really good crutch to use to not actually get close to people and really help them.  Just sayin'.

I'll be curious to see how many "unfriend" me over this one.  I've been "unfriended" over much more trivial.  I have an opportunity to show a side of reality, honesty, that most people won't take advantage of for fear of offending.  Well, I'm not afraid.  If I offend you, talk to me about it and find out more about the situation, or just walk away.  Your choice.  It's a lot easier to just walk away and enjoy your self-pity and perceived injustice.  It's a lot harder to actually discuss it and learn more about what prompted the comment and the feelings underneath it.  Which will you do?