Counting My Blessings

My best friend is sick.  Not a little sick.  Really, really sick.

It started about six weeks ago.  She'd been sick for about two weeks before I even knew she was struggling.  Part of that was because she is a private person and didn't really let anyone know.  Part of it was because I was pretty sick at the time.  And part of it is because I take her health for granted.

Two months ago she was the healthiest person I knew.  She's a little older than me, but much healthier.  She had more energy.  She was a doer.  She was always on the go, ate well, never got sick.  I just assumed I hadn't heard from her because she was busy.  And I was too miserable to worry about anyone else.

Then I found out she was sick.  That kind of rocked my world.  She doesn't get sick; how is this possible?

I was on my way out of an illness.  I tried to check on her every day, calling or visiting.  Little by little she got worse.  She lives alone so there was no one there to monitor every day at first.  As we realized this was for the long haul, her friends started stepping in.  Weeding her garden.  Doing her shopping.  Washing her dishes.  Cleaning her house.  Preparing her meals.  It was a beautiful chorus of service.  All of us doing what we could to help.

I did a little.  I wanted to do more.  I wanted to move in and take care of her.  But that wasn't possible.  I wasn't well enough and it wasn't what she wanted.

Another friend did step up and take over the lion's share of the load.  I will be forever grateful to her for that.  She gave with her whole heart and soul to a woman I love as dearly as if she were my own sister.  Every act of service she performed felt like it was for me, because she was doing for my friend what I couldn't.

My best friend continued to decline.  She doesn't believe in traditional western medicine and was taking a more natural approach.  It was difficult to watch her not heal faster and respect her feelings on her care.  She was hurting a lot.  Swollen.  Sleeping 20 hours a day.  Losing her appetite.  Losing weight.  Severely fatigued.  It broke my heart to see her because she was so altered.

Then she started to improve.  For a couple of weeks she seemed to be getting better.  The pain and swelling went away.  She was able to move easier.  As gradual as it was, it seemed to be getting better.  And we continued to respect her desires for her care.  (There were some who tried to convince her to see a doctor, but those of us closest to her supported her.  Out of love and the belief that she has the right to choose for herself.)

But last week she took a turn for the worse.  An obvious downturn.  And it was scary.  And when it got to a certain point, the person she sees for her healing told her it was time to consult a doctor.  The doctor told her she needed IV fluids and lots of tests, but she could choose to do them on an outpatient basis or be admitted to the hospital.  The decision was hers.  She chose to be admitted.

So I have spent the last two days in and out of the hospital.  Helping her get admitted and settled.  Speaking on her behalf because it's just so hard for her.  And trying to comfort her, if only with my presence in the room.

And the feeling I am overwhelmed with is gratitude.  I am so grateful that I am not that sick.  I am so grateful that her caretaker was humble enough to ask for help.  I am so grateful she was willing to take a new direction, one that was so hard for her, and that the decision was hers.  I am so grateful for all the people who have helped her every step of the way.  I am grateful that all the medical personnel now involved have been respectful of her choices up to this point, never chastising her for waiting to involve traditional medicine.

But the thing I am the most grateful for is that I am well now.  I couldn't be there in the beginning and not much in the middle, but I can be there now.  When it's the darkest.  My health and life are allowing me to spend hours and hours by her bedside or running her errands.  My family supports me and hasn't complained of my absence once.  I get to be with my friend.  The way I want to be.

And she is improving.  I am so, so grateful for that.  I will never take her for granted again.

Lost My Footing

When I was a kid summertime meant freedom. Roaming. Exploring. And one place my friends and I spent time was the creek.

Early summer would find it still deep enough to come up to my thighs. And, man, was it cold.

We would walk up the creek, marveling at the wonders around us. Finding cool rocks. Talking about life.

But when I wasn't careful I would lose my footing. I'd step on a wobbly rock or a slippery one and down I'd go. Sometimes I got caught in the current and was carried a ways downstream before I could get my feet under me again.

Well, I've lost my footing. I was going along okay, but I guess I wasn't watching where I was going. Suddenly I was down and going the wrong direction. I was cold and floundering. I think I've stopped losing ground and I'm very carefully trying to get back on my feet.

This happens. Over and over this happens. It's so frustrating. And sometimes it's very scary. What if I can't catch myself this time? What if I float so far away no one can find me? What if I drown?

I have always found my footing in the past. I believe I will this time as well. The sun will come out and begin to warm me as it dries my clothes. I will find my way back to my friends.

But right now I'm just stepping oh so carefully. One wrong move and I'll be down again. And I don't want to be down again; the fight to get back up can be so hard.

Paralyzed

Please excuse my absence. 

I have wanted to write.  I have needed to write.  But I just couldn't do it.

No, wait!  Don't run off thinking this is another writer writing about writer's block.  It isn't; I promise.

If it were writer's block then the only thing I would be having trouble with would be writing.  And it's not.  I'm having trouble with everything.  I am paralyzed in my life.  Stuck.

I guess it started a couple of weeks ago when the darkness hit.  From out of nowhere it came over me like a black cloud.  A cloud made out of tar.  And everything in my life became a lot more difficult.

I get like this sometimes.  And I have yet to figure out why.  It is so incredibly frustrating.

I was doing so much better.  I was getting stuff done.  Spending time with people.  Really enjoying my life.

And then it went away.  The joy was gone.

There was no big crisis.  There is no obvious explanation.  My life is in a pretty good place right now.  I should be happy.

But I'm not.

And I am frozen.  I look around and see how much I need to get done.  Cleaning.  Bills.  Contact with friends.  Church obligations.  Food for my family.  Each and every one of these things became a monumental task in and of itself.

It's hard to start eating the elephant when you know there is another one right behind it.

I quit eating well.  I quit sleeping well.  I started hiding from family and friends.

I was back in survival mode.  Doing the bare minimum.  Relying on old coping strategies that I know don't work long term but get me through. 

I have new tools.  Things I have learned in therapy and through my own experience.  Healthy ways to change my focus and find my way back to the light.  But they don't appeal to me.

All I want to do is sit down on the curb and watch the world go by.  Without being seen so no one talks to me or expects anything from me.

But I'm not.  I'm trying to go on.  I may not be up and running, but at least I'm crawling.  And if I keep crawling long enough, eventually I will turn the corner.

The Difficult Things

I have pondered this for a long time.  I have debated writing here about the difficult things in my life.  You may think I have already done so.  You are wrong.  The things I have written about so far were much easier for me to write than what is yet to come.  If things I have written so far are too difficult for you, you might not want to read the other difficult things.  I will certainly understand and will not judge you.

I'm not quite there.  Just thinking about it today, remembering it, brought me to tears.  I need more time.  I need privacy to write.  But soon.

I will try to find a way to identify it in the title so that you can easily recognize it and skip it if you'd like.  I do not want anyone to carry these things that isn't ready.

I do have important things to say.  It's not so much that I want to say them as that I need to.  Writing is a way to cleanse the toxins out of our systems, the emotional toxins that infect us due to traumatic experiences.

I have written about them, but just for myself and a few select friends.  I think my soul would heal without writing about them again.

The reason I feel compelled to write about them is for others.  There are many women (too many) with similar stories who have not found their voices, who have lost themselves.  I want them to know that they are not alone.  I want them to know that they are not crazy.  I want to support them, if only by believing them.  By validating them.

I am strong.  I am supported.  I know my voice.

So I will use my voice to tell my story, and theirs to some extent.  It's amazing how similar these stories are.  I have heard so many of them from incredible women -- women who don't know they are incredible.

But they are.

Who Needs a Sub?

A few weeks ago I was at my daughter's basketball scrimmage.  Even though it was a scrimmage, they were playing hard.  The girls were getting winded, and there were a couple on the bench eager to get in.  The coach asked, "Who needs a sub?"

I was sitting right behind him and answered, "I do."

He didn't hear me.  And he didn't have a sub for me anyway.  But it got me thinking -- wouldn't it be nice if life were a little more like sports?

There would be subs.  That alone makes it worth it.  After being up until 4:30am with sick and crying kids, what mother wouldn't love a substitute mother to take over and get everyone up and off to school in the morning so she could recover?

There would be a clear definition of the goals.  In sports you work to score more points (less in golf) than your opponent.  But sometimes in life we work and work only to find out that we were working toward the wrong goal.  We thought we were headed in the right direction, but somewhere along the line we got lost.

There are also clearly defined rules.  Every sport has its rules and a governing body to set and enforce those rules.  Life can be vague.  Moral dilemmas occur in which we're just not sure what the proper choice is.

You always know who your opponent is.  In football or basketball, you know who not to throw the ball to -- their clothes are a different color than yours.  You know that they are working against your better interests.  Unfortunately, life isn't always so clear about this.  Sometimes you spend a long time relying on and trusting another person only to have them turn on you and stab you in the back when it's to their advantage.

Conversely, you have a team, you know who they are, and you are working toward the same goal.  When you are in heavy coverage, you can pass to someone else.  Sometimes in life we don't have a very strong team.  Or we aren't all playing the same game.

In sports you have a coach.  You have someone who is more experienced who can teach you and guide you.  Someone who can tell you what you're doing wrong and how to fix it.  And who can direct others to help you.

You have fans.  There are people watching who are hoping you do well.  They are cheering for you.  They share your disappointment when things don't go well.

Okay, it's a loose comparison.  And I know you are going to say that some of these things are available in life if we'd only take advantage of them.  A spouse, friend, grandparent = a sub.  The law, police officers, judges, God = rules and a governing body.  A mentor, a parent, a grandparent, God = a coach.  Your interpretation will vary depending on your personal feelings and beliefs. 

So if these things are available, do we take advantage of them?  Would your life be better if you thought of it as a sport and looked for these elements and opportunities?

I imagine it would.  I don't think it would solve everything, but perception is important and every little bit helps.

What I want is my own personal commentator; and every time I accomplish something difficult I want him to shout, "GOOOOOOOOOOOAL!"

The Power of Acceptance

God, grant me the serenity
To accept the things I cannot change;
The courage to change the things that I can;
And the wisdom to know the difference.

The Serenity Prayer is so beautiful and simple.  And yet so difficult.

I grew up believing that my life would be what I would make of it.  I could decide what I wanted to be, do, or have and make it so.  I had the power of self-determination.  I had the strength of will.  I had the courage and intelligence.

And guess what.  So much of my life is not what I chose.

I'm not going to write about the courage to change things; that's a whole topic in itself. 

I've been pondering the idea of accepting things.  How long do I beat my head against the wall trying to change the nature of the wall?  All that happens is that my head hurts.

Which brings me to my ponderings.  While there are many things that are beyond my ability to change in my life, the one I'm struggling with right now is my health.  How long do I fight what is?  And how much do I miss out on because I am fighting?  Is there power in accepting things the way they are and making the proverbial lemonade from lemons?  Where is the line between accepting what I cannot change and giving up?

This July it will be five years that I have had a continuous headache.  In the same spot every minute of every day.  It strengthens and weakens in intensity, but it's always there.

When I first got it, I waited for it to pass.  When I realized it wouldn't, I began to fight it.  I went to doctors of every kind.  I had every test anyone could think of.  I had my eyes checked.  My teeth checked.  I changed my diet.  I tried alternative interventions.  And I spent lots and lots of money.

Each new idea brought hope.  This will be the one.
And each new idea brought disappointment.  That wasn't the one.

It's so hard to keep letting yourself hope and continually have those hopes dashed.  I try a few things, decide I can't take it anymore, and quit trying for a while.  I just live with things as they are and try to function.  Time passes and someone comes up with another idea.  I just heard about this and you have to try it.  And it makes sense, so I do.  No good.

And, as silly as it sounds, each time something doesn't make me feel better I feel a little guilty.  I feel like I'm not trying hard enough or I would feel better.  I feel like I am disappointing the one who suggested it and have let them down.

I am also at about nine years of chronic fatigue.  Yet another situation that has no proof to anyone but me, that can't be shown through medical tests, and that has no real cure.  Great.  (And yes, there are people who don't believe me.)

I would never have chosen either of these things.  But I have grown from them.  I have gained a greater appreciation for the little things.  I have been able to better focus my energies on what matters, since those energies are so limited.

Am I grateful for them?  Occasionally.  I think that "grateful for suffering" thing comes when the suffering ends.

And while I still have times of disappointment, when I get down about where my life is, the best days happen when I accept what it is now and move on.  When I don't dream about what could be, but live the dream that is.

Who Asked You?

I'm cranky today.  A little snarky.  Is it a good time for me to write a blog?  Probably not.  There's a better than average chance that I'm going to offend or hurt someone.  This is your warning.  Proceed with caution.

Don't you just love unsolicited advice?  The way everyone around you knows exactly how to fix your life?  No, me either.

Do I believe their intentions are pure?  Sometimes.  Do I think they are trying to be hurtful?  Not usually.  Do I find what they say to be helpful?  Very, very rarely.  Usually it comes across as self-agrandizing, holier-than-thou preaching.  At least to me it does.  Especially if I am really having a hard time.

I am not going to tell you how to talk to someone who's having a hard time.  That would be exactly the problem I'm talking about.  I am going to tell you how I would like people to interact with me when I am having a hard time.

1.  Don't assume you know what the problem is.  My life is multi-faceted.  What bothers me one day doesn't the next.  If you think that the one problem you know about is the only problem in my life then you are delusional.  One day it's my health.  One day it's my relationship with my husband.  One day it's my past.  One day it's hormonal.  And some days I don't even know what it is, so how could you?

If you want to know what the problem is (because you are concerned, not out of a morbid curiosity or need to know for your own selfish reasons) then ask me.  Talk to me.  Express your concern and your willingness to listen.  And be prepared for a brush off.  If you are not a person that I am comfortable talking to in that moment, respect that.  These are my feelings and I get to choose who to share them with.

2.  Don't you dare tell me that you know how I feel (or how I should feel).  You don't.  Even if you've had a similar experience, your life up to and around that point are not the same as mine.  You do not have the same temperment as me.  You do not live inside my mind and body.  You do NOT know how I feel.  Nothing will alienate me from you faster than that.

But it will ingratiate you to me if you admit right up front that you don't know how I feel.  Maybe you have an idea, maybe not.  Express your own personal sorrow at seeing me in pain.  Or express your frustration that you can't make me feel better.  Or express your willingness to listen.  Again, listening is the key.  Which leads to number three.

3.  Don't try to fix me or my life or my problem.  These are not yours to fix.  It is not your job to make me feel better no matter who you are.  And when you try, when you tell me how to fix it, you are saying that you have no faith in me to overcome it on my own.  You are saying that you know better how to live my life than I do.  I'm sorry, but there is no chance that when I reach final judgment I am going to be asked how well you lived my life.  It's my life to live and I need to do it.  I need to figure it out for myself.

Listen.  Just listen.  Cry with me.  Hug me.  Comfort me.  Whatever.  But don't try to take my problems away from me.  They are mine.  They are how I become who I am meant to be.  They are how I grow stronger.  They are mine and I will not surrender them.  They are a part of me and I am less without them.  I need them.  And when I don't need them anymore it will be because I overcame them.  I chose to give them away.  I got everything I needed out of them and gave them back to God.

A Pebble or a Pea?

Let me take you back to your childhood, the days of fairy tales. 

Remember the story of The Princess and the Pea?  Maybe like me, you remember it as told by "Kermit the Frog" reporting.  While the details change in the retelling, the basic story goes like this.  In an effort to determine if a young girl is a real princess, so that she is suitable for the young prince to marry, a bed is prepared for her as a test.  The bed has many mattresses.  And a secret.  Underneath the mattresses is a single pea.  If the girl is a true princess, she will be sensitive enough to notice the pea despite all the padding.  Morning comes.  The girl hasn't slept because there was something hard in her bed.  She IS a real princess.  Happy ending.  All is well.

Only, let's think about it.  Now that we have lived a little life and had our share of troubles.  How do you see the princess now?  I'm afraid she is now a joke.  Someone who has had such a blissful and pampered life that the smallest difficulty is so troubling that she cannot sleep.

And let us consider another difficulty of similar size.  A pebble.  On the path in front of you it is nothing; inside of your shoe it is everything.  It's about the same size as a pea, but few would argue that you were wrong to be troubled by it.  It would bother most anyone.  Of course it is a problem.

So how often do we confuse the two?  I think that sometimes I'm the princess.  Things have been going well and the smallest thing ruins my perfect picture so it becomes a big deal.  Other times I am so involved with everything else that I try to ignore the pebble in my shoe.  It just doesn't seem like that big of a deal.  But it does take its toll.

Sometimes the pebble is an easy problem.  I take off my shoe, dump it out, put my shoe back on, and am back on my way.

Othertimes the pebble is disaster.  It was the thing that pushed me over the edge.  I sit down, take off my shoe, throw it, curse it, and cry.

I would like to be better at discerning between pebbles and peas in my life.  And since I have difficulty with my own problems it would stand to reason that I would have even more trouble judging someone else's.

I will try to remember this the next time I see someone I think is a princess wallowing over a pea.  Maybe it was really a pebble in her shoe and she has been walking with it a very long time.

My Envy of Video Game Characters

Okay, let's forget the fact that video game characters usually get more than one life.  That's a given for envy right there.

I am not a big gamer, but I've played a few.  And today I decided that I'd like to be a video game character.

I feel miserable.  My head hurts.  I'm exhausted.  And emotionally I've got the blahs.  What do I do now?

First, those things are not immediately visible to others.  That means others keep needing me, bugging me, asking me, telling me, whatever.  However, if I were a video game character I would have nice little bars that follow me around. 

I would have one for pain; it would be black.  When it's high, it means I'm in bad pain so I can't do everything I usually can until that is taken care of.  Either people would ask less of me or they would try to bring my pain down. 

I would have one for energy; it would be green.  And when it's low people would understand why I can't go do things with them without getting their feelings hurt.

I would definitely have one for emotional stability; it would be shades of red.  High (light pink) - let's play.  Low (cranberry) - baby me.  Flashing blood red - better run!

And better than all of that, just imagine how much simpler life would be if you had a "hint" button.  Don't know what to make for dinner?  Hit the hint button.  Don't know whether or not you need to take your child to the doctor for this?  Hit the hint button.  Don't know the right response when someone is yelling at you?  Hit the hint button.  The possibilities are endless.

Plus, others in my life could use the hint button to find out how to help -- and they would score points for it!

And for sure, I would want someone to write a full-blown cheat for me.  Enter this code and all levels immediately reach optimum, including clean house and full bank account.

But, alas, I'm not a video game character.  At least not outside my own head.  But in my head I call myself . . .