Fibro FROGS

The weather in Oklahoma is making my hair curl (literally and figuratively). Anyone with any kind of chronic pain issues can attest to the effects of weather on their condition. There is a direct correlation between the barometer and my pain level. Also it's the weekend and my body tends to rebel from my week activity, though I tried to take it easier this week.

Anyway this will be a short post (yes, I hear the snickering because I can't make a short post, can I?). I've been cooking this up for a while and since I didn't feel like anything else this morning, I thought I would make it real.

Meet Lilly, she's my mascot. She's several shades of purple which relates to the varying pain levels of the syndrome (as described by the Fibromyalgia Crusade) Lilac = low pain, Mulberry = tolerable, Amethyst = high pain, @ all together = Really bad! LMA (Leave Me Alone). Anyway she's supposed to be lilac. And of course she's all dolled up and pretty because why shouldn't she be? Most important is the acronym F.R.O.G. I've managed to apply this concept in most areas, but fail to when it comes to my illness. So, she's a reminder to me: be beautiful, wear your colors, fully rely on God. We won't talk about how long I spent drawing her on my iPad! It was a labor of love. <3

So that's all. On this mulberry Saturday, with storms on the horizon, I'm trying to at least have a productive brain if not a productive body.

I've been blessed this week by a fellow Fibro blogger who owns The Fibromyalgia Crusade website. Her trials and experience help me remeasure my "normal". I appreciate her openness and candidness. Links to her BLOG are here, stop by and read a bit.

I'm also thankful for my Prince of a husband who doesn't expect too much. He kissed a princess that turned into a FROG, but he still loves her.

I'm trying some diet changes. Frogs eat flies. I've have noticed a change in how I feel overall, but not in my pain and fatigue levels. I've been told it takes a while. If only I could go to a medical spa for 3 months to have someone prepare organic, non-processed, possibly gluten free meals for me and see if there was an improvement. Nothing is easy, is it?

Oh well, enjoy Lilly. Feel free to use her as your own reminder. We're not in this battle alone. In fact, this battle isn't even ours. That's hard to remember when the laundry pile (and toy pile, and trash pile) is growing. God = grace. Give yourself some too.

A Birthday Celebrated with Snapshots

Those frozen mental pictures we carry can be good or bad, depending on what you've seen. I have some I could do with out, but some also that I treasure. One of my favorites that I like to pull out and "look" at is of the first time I met my Father-in-law, Earl.

It was the first time Erich brought me home to meet his family. I will never forget what their house looked like the first time I saw it: hidden by a hill, surrounded by a little lake, complete with a cave, and spring, as we rounded the corner, like a fairy tale cottage. And I will never forget the first time I met Earl. He was on top of the house cleaning out the guttering. It was a few days before Christmas and the weather was quite chilly. He was wearing a "snoopy hat" like this one, with the flaps down.

Because he was doing something manly he and Erich both did the "Tim-The-Toolman-Taylor" manly gorilla grunt. I laughed and instantly fell in love with him. I have that had saved in my closet, now.

I wish I would explain what it was like for me to know Earl. I had a weird dysfunctional relationship with my own Dad, and my grandfather had been gone for several years. He was gone before I understood how much I needed a grandpa. So there is Earl, gray, handsome, funny, fatherly. I guess if I had ever pictured what a "Father" was supposed to be and look like it was Earl. He could have been a lot of things: me being not the daughter he raised, or how he probably would have raised me; judgmental. He could have thought me not good enough for his son. Compared me against his own daughter. But he didn't. I could be wrong but I think he liked me right from the first as well.

That first night as I sat in the living room with what would be my husband's family (with a sprained ankle soaking in a bowl of hot water and Epsom salt) and knew I had found home. It was so perfectly ordinary and comfortable. Of course, Erich and I had only been dating about 2 weeks and it could have gone either way. Lucky for me, it would turn out to be fated.

So I spent the next 15 years getting to know Earl. I know that fond memories make people immortally perfect. I know he wasn't perfect. What makes people perfectly immortal, however, is when those perfect happy snapshots are all that we have recorded in our mind. If I tried I could probably dredge up a not-perfect one as well, but the happy ones far outweigh the imperfect ones.

In my head I also have "voice recordings". He called me by my first and middle name together. The only other person ever to do that is my Granny :) He asked me one time if it bothered me. He also called me "little girl" every time I was doing something he thought I should not do: like carry something heavy, climb on something, etc. I have recorded his Santa Clause like laugh, and his singing voice, which makes my heart hurt if I listen too long. I could write forever about how he was the father I  wished I had, how he took me into his heart and was also available for the phone call when I didn't know what to do. Most often times those phone calls involved advice for when I was dealing with issues with my own father.  I've never missed Earl so acutely as when my Dad passed away last September. I needed so badly to hear his voice telling me I wasn't a bad daughter, and that how I handled everything was reasonable considering the circumstances. To abate my guilt, to give me that fatherly advice I so desperately craved.  Sitting on my living room floor in that moment, I don't know when things have ever seemed so quiet. Knowing, that now, there were no Dads left, good or dysfunctional, happy or disquieted. I was on my own.

All of this is stored in my "Earl box". We said goodbye to Earl in a time a turmoil in our family. I was working full time and the loss was so great to my husband that I did my best to carry out the functioning of he family while he grieved. This left me little time to grieve, myself as I had to still full function, at work, at home, without falling apart, without giving in to what was breaking my heart. And so I did.

The truth about grief is that you will grieve, one way or another. You will go through all of those stages they tell you about whether you want to do not. It will be in any order, in any timing but it's a process that can't be circumvented. I couldn't do it all at once and so my process has taken it's time, and longer than what it might have been, in bits and pieces. I open the "Earl box" on special occasions, like today, his birthday, and look at those snapshots and listen to the voice recordings, and today, I write about them. I share them with you because if you knew him, you will remember these things too. If you didn't, I hope you can know what a truly good and wonderfully fun man he was to know.  I take the opportunity to grieve a little this morning. Sometimes it sneaks up on me and squeezes my heart like a vice and some days, I abandon myself  to it willingly.  I know it's indulgence. However, it's an indulgence I have not had the time for and every moment of it, I heal a little more.

So February 2nd, Ground Hog's Day. I used to call Earl and ask him if he had seen his shadow.  Happy Birthday, Earl.  You are greatly missed.

Earl in one of his funny "chemo" hats, with my son.  Best Grandpa, ever!

To Whom it may concern: Who are you?

This is the first time I have actually kept up with my BLOG. It's enjoyable, though my personal journaling has fallen to the wayside. Blogging is interesting because the website gives you stats that tell you general information about your audience: which country, which browser, even which website referred them to my blog. When I look at it, I'm so curious about how someone in Russia found my BLOG and what they thought about it. If it gave them any insight, what is their life like? Are they a person with Fibromyalgia? or a Mom? or a Christian?

Having a personal BLOG is also interesting because you really kind of put yourself out there. Sometimes you get some feedback but mostly not. I don't suppose I write because solely because I am trying to impress my audience, whoever that may be. I write because I have something on my mind. But I wonder if I could be more effective in sharing what's on my mind if I knew who was reading it.

More importantly, though, I am truly interested in my audience. Who are you? Where are you in this life journey? Are you happy? Struggling? Sick? Are you seeking something? That's the reason feedback is so important to me. Blogging, for me, isn't only about putting my thoughts out there, it's also about connecting.

In any event, wherever you are and whoever you are, I sincerely hope this post finds you well, and interested, and that you always come away from reading with a new insight, however small.

You can't go in there like THAT!

I read a BLOG post today on one of my favorite sites, Rest Ministries  The devotional post was focused on I Peter 1:3-7.  You can find the link to that devotional here. I loved the focus of this devotional. I have never thought about it quite this way.  The idea being that we are refined by fire so that, like clay, we can be made into firm pottery, so that we can withstand this world and pass on our faith to others: a gift to withstand that ages.

But in reading this I also was reminded of the game I am playing with my boys (WARNING: GEEK REFERENCE: The Legend of Zelda Skyward Sword.  We love these games and have played almost every one.  Our brave hero, Link, starts out as a boy with a quest to save his beloved friend, Zelda.

 His life is simple until one day everything is turned on its head.  He confronts physical challenges and demons and with each passing trial he gains more "hearts" and becomes stronger, more skilled, until he is ready to face the final "boss" and rescue Zelda.  In the game we are playing the hero faces literally what are called "trials".  With each that he overcomes his spirit becomes stronger and more ready. At the end he will be able to pass through to the final stage, ready to enter.

We all know that we face trials here to strengthen our faith.  But today I saw a new image.  Like our hero, and like the clay in the Rest Ministries devotional,we can't enter Heaven as a little boy or as a soft lump of clay.  The Spirit that is within us knows us intimately. As intimately as He knows the heavenly kingdom. And he understands what we need to be in order to be ready. He sees our progress through this life and says "you can't go in there like that."

Am I saying that one must endure trials to enter heaven and receive salvation?  No, definitely not. That's not my point at all.  In fact there may be those out there who hearts and souls are made of gold and ready from day one.  But the bible is clear that we will endure trials.  It's a certainty. During our trial, I had only two choices: walk forward, or walk away.  What would it have meant to walk away?  It would take a while to further clarify this point but for now, just know that's not what I mean to say.

It also says that we should count them all joy!  Like a bride who goes through days of beauty treatments (some of them more painful than others) so that she is a beautiful presentation to her groom, we are being made more presentable to our Lord. Refined by fire, made beautiful and polished, perfected, completed, strengthened, all to be ready to do what we are called to do here, and I imagine there will be things to do in heaven as well.  

I can not look back on the last three years and not feel so incredibly grateful!    I can look back and see that, like Link, my soul was being infused with understanding, my faith strengthened.  I am not the girl that entered this walk three years ago.  I have more joy, now, than I ever had before! How is that possible?  How can you go through a season of loss and how can your life utterly change and on the other side be happier that you were before?  Refining doesn't just equal steel, it equals joy.  Because I can sense the changes within me. I am joyful because I am changed.   I feel more presentable, more ready to face the challenges of life that will, without a doubt, still come at us.

I know someone right now that is going through one of the worst trials imaginable.  Their child has brain cancer.  The Dad writes BLOG posts on Caring Bridge (for a real lesson in faith, go visit, you will fall in love with this family).  I am amazed at where this father is spiritually.  He sees so clearly what this is about.  He is a mouthpiece for God in nearly every one of his posts. Such a courageous Christian family.  They are already in a place where it has taken me years (and tears) to get to.  What more can there be for them to learn?  There must be something.  I'm following along with this family. I want to watch their faith grow beyond where it is. It's startling to me to think that is even possible.  I want to learn from them. I want to know what immeasurable spiritual gift is on the other side. I follow them also so that if there is anything I learned, any peace that I was given in my trial, that I can lend to them, I will know it, and be ready to do it. If you are in a high place in your life, don't forget those down in the battle. Lend them your strength through prayer, words, scripture, hugs. That walk is hard while you're in it, don't let any one walk alone.

Whatever image speaks to you: refined as silver, hardened like pottery, made presentable to the groom, made ready to enter, or a hero's spiritual infused trial, grasp on to that and understand that it is to change you into something better. Be forewarned, you will not be the same.  You will be presentable in the finest spiritual garb. I imagine the Holy Spirit standing back, looking at his masterpiece, and saying "And now, you are ready. You may enter."

An Ounce of Perspective

When you can't see what God needs you to see, He will move you to a place where you can see.  Sometimes that is far away where you can look from afar and see clearly what was surrounding you. Sometimes you see it and praise Him that you are no longer there! Sometimes you see it, and beg Him to give it back.  It's like the Ghost of Christmas Past, Present, and Future, showing you things you didn't, couldn't, wouldn't see before.  If you find yourself complaining a lot, my suggestion would be to take a step back and try to gain some perspective yourself.  You can move yourself around the block, God is likely to  move you much farther! And if He brings you back, He might leave you with a permanent little reminder.

I used to think my life was hard. I was a stay at home mom with three little boys ages 8, 6, and 4.  Two were in Cub Scouts. I was a Den Leader.  My husband had a great job but worked a lot of hours so the kids were all my responsibility, 95% of the time. Two were in school, one was in half-day, which required 20 trips to the school a day. (it seemed)  I complained about sitting in a line of cars to drop the off, driving to the school 3 times a day and dealing with school traffic. I complained about how loud they were when they all got in the van after school. I complained about how hard it was to get them up and ready every morning. I was usually totally frazzled by the time I got them to school. I complained about grocery shopping, especially if I had to take them with me. I complained about trying to get dinner ready on time on Wednesday nights and on Cub Scout nights. I complained about having to coordinate who went where in order to get everyone where they needed to be.  I complained about class parties and having to get to three of them, sometimes needing to be two places at one time, and all the craziness and chaos that was present at those class parties.  I envied my husband who got to waltz out the door every morning at 7:30 and leave me to the kids, the dogs, the craziness, who would work all day and crash in the chair when he got home to a clean house, dinner cooked. (most nights)  He had it easy!  I worked so hard and he just got to escape it all every day.

Then everything changed. He lost his job and it took about year before we decided I would go back to work.  When they time came I was ready for the change. I was ready to waltz out of the door at 7:30 and "leave him to it". It was great! (at first)  And then I started to miss them.  I missed the chattiness in the van on the way home from school. I missed the quiet moments I had sitting in the van reading, waiting for them to get out of school. I missed the excitement of mornings. I missed every single chaotic second of being home with my children.  I was forgetting things: school parties, parent teacher meetings.  They had stopped even mentioning things to me because they knew I wouldn't be able to come, anyway.  Mostly, I missed knowing my kids.  I yearned for my home, my hearth, my family, for all I ever took for granted. Words can't explain it. I know that even my best effort at writing this is not going to convince you, if you are living your dream of being home with you kids, (or whatever your dream may be) that you need to cherish every single second.  Because my perspective, is not your perspective.  I can't give that to you through a BLOG.

The day after I lost my job,the kids were having all of their fall parties at school.  I was so excited that I was going to be able to go! The youngest was the first to ask me. He was so excited that I would not be at work.  My 8 year old, didn't even mention his to me.  I scoured my emails to find the one from his teacher that said what time.  I stood outside my youngest one's class room waiting for them to come back in from recess.  Although he invited me, he wasn't really looking for me to be there.  When he looked up and saw me, the joy that lit his eyes as he ran to hug me, melted my heart.  Through his clothes and mine I could feel his heart pounding with pure excitement.  How could I ever, EVER have wished that away?  My older son's face lit up in total surprise when I walked into his classroom. He said "Mom! I didn't even tell you I was having a party!"   So, see it was on purpose.

So what I am doing  with my brand new perspective?  How about what I'm NOT doing.  I'm NOT complaining about housework, kid noise, class parties, or any such thing.  I'm NOT taking a minute of time with them for granted.  Ironically, it actually is harder now.   I now have a chronic illness that makes every day a little more challenging.  Is that a punishment?  Or is a reminder to remember, still, what I used to have? I praise God for the hours of the day that I have the physical energy to accomplish what few homemaker acts I am able to preform.   It has slowed me way down.  But that's a blessing!  God's miracle of perspective will change the rest of my life.  To seize every single moment of the things surrounding me.

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The good, the bad, the blah.

I'm discouraged today. Though I'm thankful to have low pain (good), I'm fighting high fatigue (bad), and frustrated that nothing is quite easy enough (blah).

I'm wondering if I will ever be well. I feel as though 2 1/2 months ago I was in a car wreck and am still recovering. When in truth I was walking out of a "train wreck" and into something better. My life is better. My dreams of the last year are all coming true. Yet, here I am finding myself too exhausted to enjoy them.
Would it sound silly to say I think there might be depression at work? I only say that because I've had short-term depression before and what I remember most markedly is the utter overwhelmed-ness (is that a word?) that would overtake me. So today, I decide I'm going to try to get some control and start researching what exactly causes fatigue in Fibromyalgia patients. I looked at exactly ONE website, and couldn't continue. The minuscule amount of info on that one site, most surrounding diet change, had me ready to dive into bed and pull the covers over my head. Especially since there was nothing concrete: your body, your diet, find what works for you. Really?

Is it because I'm still looking for the magic answer? Do I hold on to hope that I'm going to find the cure for myself? I don't want to give up and just feel this way for ever. I have THINGS I want to do.

And that leads me all the way back around to depression. Do I know I'm fighting a losing battle and already feel defeated?

I'm famous for not giving up. I am an answer finder, it's what I do. At least that's what I DID. It seems like it is just out of reach.

I'm not giving up, I guess. Only for tonight. Tomorrow, is round two. Small steps to finding a way out.