Let it Snow!

It's been a bear of a time (every time I use that phrase I think of Dan Sierra) lately with Fibro. Then again, when is it ever not a bear?
I've felt particularly grumpy about it. More itchy, more sleepy, more achy, more headache-y, more agitated to be in this vessel that is literally never without pain. Stabbing or aching or spasming or bruise-y or invisible sunburn-y. All the variations, each day a surprise of what hurts and how is my body going to attack itself today (they-whoever they are- need to realize and declare that Fibro IS autoimmune already!), and how exhausted am I going to be. Fibro doesn't care if I want to catch a movie, or ride my bike. It's not like the normals- they get sick, rest, pop back the NyQuil, put life on pause right quick until its back to the regular. Nope, with the Fibro life you've got to do the laundry, ride the bike, feed yourself, shower, get the groceries, and basically do what ya gotta do anyway. Of course rest is essential, and we learn to say no, and the guilt eases after a good long while, but we still have to function in society even though we wish we could just live in a sound proof bubble already!
It would definitely be easier that way. Personally I have been having an increasingly more difficult time being around other humans. More than ever. It's always been hard, but now it is downright miserable. My lifestyle is already extremely modified since I moved to NC, but as the months race by, Fibro intensifies. Sometimes I have no idea how I can keep living this way. We all make adjustments with this crazy sickness, and a lot of times it feels downright impossible & possibly like we are going a bit mad. Even watching television is becoming a major deal. The commercials have been muted for the last few years, but now sometimes I cannot even handle it at all.
It's a strange way to live. Lately my eyes have been super irritated. Itchy, aggravated. I can wear my contacts for brief snippets before the eyeballs beg for relief, even wearing glasses is uncomfortable. The migraines have been making their cameos.
Like I said, it's been more brutal. I've been thinking about how my body is directly affected by everything that goes into it. Not merely food, but the pollution and toxins that get in by way of conversation, reading material, social media, movies, television. It all matters. So in that, I am trying to be more intentional about what is feeding my spirit. It's challenging. There sure are a lot of distractions, but with this Fibro life I don't have much of a choice. My body is in constant distress, and I want to do what I can to make sure my emotions are not in the same state of alarm. Of course, to be fair to myself, I must also hold firm to the knowledge that Fibro IS legitimate & sometimes I can make many efforts to stay "in the clear" and still not be feeling emotionally okay. It's incredibly difficult to stay optimistic and good natured with this kind of beast on your back all the time. We fight like the dickens to smile and think positively and look UP. Most people I encounter get a mad case of the grumpies when they are ill, so I think those of us with chronic illnesses do a darn fine job of enduring and thriving despite the tight grip of unceasing sickness hot on
our heels every minute of every single day.
I might sound crazy, but I am proud to be amongst this group of soldiers. These strong warriors who look sickness in the face, feel the hot, stinky hell fire breath of doom and torture (Chinese water torture has to be a sister to Fibro!) and still find time to laugh and read good books and share meal time with their families.
I'm not talking about those who pretend they are fine. Not talking about those who are unwilling to admit how hard this sickness is. I'm talking about my precious sister friends who KNOW how monstrous this lifestyle is, but who fight hard every day to live, despite how much it wants to tear us down, knees scrapping the pavement, palms bloody from the fall.
These are the people I jump to my feet for, hands slapping together in enthusiastic applause. You give me courage! You give me hope! You make me remember, when in the din of my own despair, that we can do this! We ARE doing this!
So I thank you, again.
During this time, when my body is the worst enemy it's ever been, when the cold air wreaks havoc every, EVERYwhere (truly we must be human barometers), when I feel I could literally slumber for whole days on end... I think of you, my spiffy, STRONG friends, and I gather strength from your stories, from your agonies texted and whispered and shared in slivers.
I remember, I am not alone, and I can do this, because YOU are, and we ARE, and we will.
No one understands our pain, even the darling ones who honestly, sincerely try. But they don't have to.
Because I understand, you understand, we understand, and one of these days, oh dear God please, one of these days, maybe there will be more answers, and perhaps even a cure, or at least a pill instead of dozens that don't really work anyway.
Here's to hope.
Love,
Janet

"I know, more surely than I know anything, that any pang of healing or forgiveness or goodness I have ever felt comes solely from the grace of God."
-Philip Yancey

Choice

I've decided not to go to that worship night in Wilmington. I've known in my gut that it would be a bad choice to go but rebellion made me think it was an option. I COULD go but it's not in the best interest with Fibro.
I convinced myself it was going to be some polite little affair, but the reality is that it would be hundreds of people in one building, bright lights like a concert, and loud music. In this case choosing not to go takes more effort and strength (A reminded me). To drive 2 hours, go to a concert (cause lets not mince words, that's what it would be), stay overnight, and drive 2 hours home is not a smart choice.
I feel sad at realizing yet again another "loss" and thing that Fibro makes unenjoyable, but I feel kinda proud too.
It makes me feel like I'm taking care of myself better.
Most people without Fibro (and even some that do) would tell me it would be good to go. I agree. It really would. However, it is even better NOT to go. This shows that all of my self work and hard nights have transformed into my ability to recognize my very real sickness and limitations. It means I have reached a point where, yes, a part of me still rebels against the reality of having a Neuro-Immune illness, but I now grasp how vital it is to pay attention to what having Fibromyalgia really means in my life.
I CAN go to a concert, but since my nervous system is already overloaded, I will not be taking care of myself in doing so.I can barely stand the noise of the television and am NEVER around others without ear plugs, and cannot tolerate even going to church regularly, so a concert would just be asking for the ramifications. Perhaps there are some of you that can do these things with no problem. And while I applaud you, I'm not you. I DO get exhausted easily. Most of the time for no reason. I do stay home 95% of the time. I require tons of quiet and extremely limited activity.
This is not defeatist. I don't feel bad for myself. Sure, I'm disappointed and angry that I have this beastly condition, however, I am aware that this is a HUGE accomplishment! A year ago I probably would have went anyway, at the pressure from both fibro and non-fibro friends. I would have went against my gut and tried to fit myself neatly into the world that I honestly don't belong in anymore.
This is a milestone and I'm too grateful not to share.
:)

My Soul Sings

Sometimes the presence of Jesus is so sweet that it feels as though one earthly body cannot hold it all in. I suppose that is the point. It's not meant to be held in, but rather to pour so richly in us that we cannot help but spill out. Not us, but Him.
It makes me so ecstatically overwhelmed.
Grace. Kindness. Joy.
Not Janet, but JESUS.
Doesn't that sound beautiful rolling off the tongue?
Jesus.

Today I got up after these last few days of that kind of pain in my hip/back/leg that begs to be ripped from my body, with the purpose of going somewhere. Nowhere fancy, just the library or to look for Snapple at a gas station. Sometimes with Fibro (okay, honestly, ALL the time) these simple outings are extravaganzas. Like having an off campus day from a hospital of let out of the cage of a prison cell. Except my prison comes with me wherever I go, the boundary line just moves around. I took a shower
(I am so in love with hot showers lately. It's my crush. It soothes this pain filled body so good.) and decided to get out into the sunshine.

In the car I put on my current favorite worship album and felt the deliciousness of the day come over me. I sang to Jesus and smiled goofy to myself, thinking deeply about how truly wonderful He is. How generous and marvelous and sweet. He is REALLY the sweetest. No one knows how to woo like Jesus does.

My first stop was to the local thrift shop. I love to peruse the collection of books and usually find some treasures for my own library. There wasn't really anything I wanted until I got to the last row. That was when I spotted it... Could it be? The very same book I had heard about a month ago? The one I desperately wanted to order but could not afford? The one the library here does not carry so I had to put it on hold in CA for my Auntie to pick up and ship to me?
Yes, yes it was!
This is not a common book. The chances of the thrift store carrying it was slim to none, and yet there it was!
I carried my new treasure to the check out and paid $1.
I smile now as I type this. Once more I am reminded of how much God is in the details. He didn't have to put that book there, but He did. His romance for me today was in the brilliant blue sunshine of the big, big sky and a beautiful book I was aching to read. It was in the basket of library books and the magazines I got to leaf through, in the random guy who told me I am pretty, and in the strawberry lemonade I guzzled cold.
Some days the hurting is far more then physical. Endless pain and fatigue starts to cloud the soul, until it clogs. It gets dark and nothing seems enjoyable. It's all one can do to keep going. So when the beauty starts to tug hard at my heels, begging "see me!" I am hungry for more. Instantly amazed at what I am missing when my eyes are downcast. Those bleak days make these shiny ones so much more cherished. It restores HOPE. And that hope fuels me through the cloudy days when they slam into me again, leaving me breathless and overwhelmed.
His love, it IS extravagant. Wildly so.
The pain is still here. Surely my heating pad will be pressed against my hip and thigh in a matter of minutes, but my soul... My soul it soars and sings and rests all at once. I am loved by God. I am dazzled by God. I am lost in love and wanting more still.
Thank you for today, my Jesus.
Thank you for every day.

The theme today seems completely about the soul.

From the devotionals this morning affirming what God was already brewing up in my heart about self-condemnation and bitterness and fear, to this online sermon I just listened to... It's all exactly, perfectly relevant to what God is doing in my life at this very minute. I am in awe once again at how much He is involved in the complete transformation of our lives. I pray I never stop learning that. That I will never feel as though I have arrived and sit on some Christian pedestal.

I am not able to go to church every week, and I find great joy that most churches offer online services. Thank you on behalf of all of us who are physically unable to attend. There are a couple of good churches I have visited here, but I still consider TFH my home church.

Jason Upton - Faith

This is an old favorite and very much needed today.

The last couple of days I reached out to two old friends of mine and asked for prayer. I am so grateful for these two (Theresa and Melinda, that's you!). For always being prayerful, for loving me and pushing me to Jesus no matter what. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you for being my soul sisters through and through. I also shared with my closest friends in my support group online and feel relief once again for the realization that I am certainly not alone in my Fibro journey. To know there are others going through the same up and down coaster makes a world of difference.

I've also been writing in my journal much, much more than usual (it usually takes about 2 months to fill one journal, but I shot through a brand new one I got for Christmas that I just started this month), and my psyche is getting a major workout, as the dreams have returned, as well as the night sweats. I don't mind so much, because I know my mind is working things out. Dreams about huge bugs or being lost or having too much stuff, or church things. All very detailed, mostly involving anxiety, all very much a part of the process.

I've felt very angry and sad as of late, and a large chunk of that is because I was not walking in grace. Because of that I was not showing grace in my life to the people near to me. I was a walking wound, poisoning the atmosphere around me as I oozed bitterness, discontent, and depression. I am not ashamed of that. This too is part of the process. A part of being a Christian is being able to be transparent with my weaknesses and struggles. I am a very imperfect person, who makes mistake after mistake. To pretend as Christians, that we have it all together is very wrong and very unbiblical. The reason we need a Savior is because we are full of sin. I think we forget that sometimes, especially when we've been walking with Jesus for a long time.

In this pitfall I have carried feelings of intense helplessness. Honestly, I wanted to give up. As in, not even try at all anymore. Try to live like this, try to make the best of this sickness filled life. I just wanted out.

So of course (my eyes fill with tears galore here) my Jesus, who absolutely, 100% loves me, came immediately to meet with me as soon as I cried out. There were reminders of His faithfulness, His love, His presence in my life. Little things, but declarations of our love relationship, and it was like a raft out at sea.

I started to tread water again, instead of sinking. I took hold of that raft.

I received two devotional emails this morning that spoke DIRECTLY to my heart:

http://www.aholyexperience.com/2013/01/life-plan-day-planner-sanity-manifesto-printable/

http://www.wisdomhunters.com/2013/01/come-to-me/

I went back to sleep, and when I woke up I got down on the floor in front of the heater and started to journal again. God told me to put on a specific song (http://youtu.be/ZkMKzXshThc) and to just lay out before him. During this time He gave me the image of laying at his feet and just letting my hair wrap all over them. I was clinging to His leg and just letting Him love on me. He showed me to write all of my recent sins and struggles on a piece of paper, and then afterward to simply worship Him in song. Then I took communion and burned up the paper.

That's it. Just like that.

Grace.
Love.
The reminder that I am loved, that I am covered, that He is still present.

My heart is beyond grateful and even though this doesn't make my mood instantly sunshine and rainbows, it does bring me back into alignment with the God of the universe.

The God who loves me, even in my failures.

There are some personal things that He is asking me to surrender and change, and I look forward to seeing how this barren place is made into something beautiful.

To Him be the glory, forever and ever.

Please do keep me in your prayers, as this is a constant struggle with Fibromyalgia. Thank you so much.

The Really Real

*Disclaimer: This is not a Peppy Patty post. This is from my journal and it's not going to lift you up.I'm not wanting advice or comfort or someone's super inspiring story. I'm sharing for those of you are also battling sickness and for those who want to know what I feel.*

Facts:

I AM EXHAUSTED.

I am tired of being sick.

I cannot handle this anymore.

All of my joy is being sapped.

Seriously, the knowledge of many more days like this is too, too much. I am not happy. I am so angry and easily moody. ALL relationships take too much effort. I am so drained of life. I wasn’t this way before Fibro, but after all this time, I have hit a limit. I cannot handle this.

God, are you listening?

I am so miserable. I can’t stand just sitting here waiting for the next, brief version of a good day. I am losing hope. Losing perspective. I do not want to live like this. ANY request from anyone floods me with rage.

I can barely function. I have to wake up every single day, endure a shower, wash clothes, lift a fork to feed myself, try to distract with books or blogs or television, and make it through… only to go to bed at the end of it all, to realize the next day is just going to be a varying shade of today.

This is no way to live. Not at all.

I don’t feel like being a poster child for Fibro wellness today. I’m not some motivational speaker. I have clung to optimism for the last 4 years. When I was kind of sick, then when I was really sick… bleeding, aching, infection after infection sick… and later when I was sick but finally diagnosed… I tried to stay hopeful when I moved cross country, when I had to leave Mylie… I have stayed hopeful through all of the mindless paperwork, all of the rude doctors, all of the crap put in my body.

And now…

Now I just feel hopeless. There were goals, I suppose. Goal one was getting diagnosed. Goal two was finding a doctor to treat me. Goal three was starting treatment. Goal 4 was recovering after the move. Goal 5 was facing my diseases and letting go of my old life. That season was rough, bleak, and absolutely dark. Goal six was finding a doctor here. Goal seven was learning to “manage” my particular sicknesses and work with it. I started another new medication and began to exercise. Life started to have more color during the 5th and 7th goals. I went out more. I laughed more. I found my center again. I felt like life was full of promise. And then I crashed around Christmas. So much stress, but wrapped up as Christmas shopping, a spa day (meant to be relaxing), Christmas and New Years in itself… and everything else that was an activity or a hindrance to my fragile “managed” state.

I muse that perhaps it was getting slightly “managed,” and realizing that was about a good as it was going to get,then being knocked on my behind soon after that, led to realizing that being “managed” means nothing.

ABSOLUTELY NOTHING.

To get “managed” meant a few good months, but still having to endure pain and fatigue every damn day. It meant that “managed” was just a way to pass the time, because this disease is vicious and rude and will rob us whenever it feels like it. Rape of the mind, body, and soul. We do what we can- diet, exercise, meds, rest… but it doesn’t matter really. It’s just passing the time. There is NOTHING that gives us our health back. No amount of exercise allows us to be normal again. Hours of sleep does not replenish. The body is literally under assault all day long.

Chew on that.

Really chew on that.

This is torture.

It’s excruciating.

“Like being nailed to a cross is excruciating?”

Wow.

I hear you, Jesus.

And no, not nearly as excruciating as dying on that cross.

Not even close.

But Jesus?

I have no more grace or dignity with these viruses and conditions sucking the life out of my bones. I have nothing to give and I’m losing the drive to stick it out. I’m angry. I feel the losses every day. Fibromyalgia mocks me. I don’t recognize myself in my behaviors anymore. I’m sullen and sarcastic, morose and private, believing again that I do not deserve to be loved. I’ve said too many unkind things, exhibited too many harsh tantrums. I’ve become a shadow. I covet, I yearn, I grieve. I even hate sometimes. How can I be lovable? How can YOU, God, love me? I cannot forgive myself. I cannot let your blood wash away my harshness. I don’t deserve it.

“Grace is free.”

I want to have this illuminating moment where I just accept that grace anew… not the grace of 2001, or 2005, or 2009, or even the grace of yesterday… but grace for now. Grace for this moment. It seems so unattainable.

All I feel is the tight cord of misery as my bones ache and the exhaustion sucks me absolutely dry.

How?

Having Fibromyalgia just plumb feels terrible.

Rest, rest, rest. Not so easy to do after a week... three weeks... a month... a year... three...

This is life. On the daily. No pause. Benadryl, Nyquil, Sudafed, etc. does not work for us. EVER.

Someone lamented to me recently about a bout with the flu. How hard it was to walk through the cold, how they bought all these over the counter meds to get better, just how very, very miserable they were. All I could think about was,"at least your flu went away." I didn't say that, of course. I commiserated. I tried to be empathetic. It's hard though. Anyone who says otherwise might be fibbing a little.

See, this "flu" we've got will not go away in a few days... or even in a week or two. These aching, throbbing, weak limbs will not start to feel strong again in due time. This "pull me to the floor, I'm so exhausted" sensation will not be gone soon.

It's here to stay.

We just do what we need to do anyway. We have no choice. We either give in to the misery, get depressed, and feel like the world is out of reach (This happens regularly. The doldrums come with the territory. Take your recent flu story and utter misery and remember how much you moaned and wanted to be left alone.), ignore the very real physical limitations we now live with and end up crashing & burning hard, or find the silver linings wherever we can because it really is THIS hard to be this sick, and we try to maintain some kind of balance between resting and doing what we actually need to do- take care of our children, cleanse ourselves, wash clothes, interact with the people we live with even when our muscles and minds scream, beg, plead, demand bed only please!

It's a nightmare.

I've been in a particularly brutal season, after a few brief months of sunlight of the soul. After all the chaos and denial... the grueling battle between the onslaught of sickness and processing it, I finally felt somewhat managed. But managing Fibro is not an easy feat. Not at all. One tip too far in one direction can cause a severe backlash.

So, I'm still learning. Still getting up, falling down, getting up again. It's times like this that make me want to isolate. I don't feel a part of the world around me. I feel stuck. Rapunzel in her tower. All sadness or displeasure swims to the surface and makes the eyes all grainy. I look for a flower, a cool breeze caressing my skin, the cheerful sound of the child I love and miss, a really good book. I look for hope and try to cling on because it starts to feel very bleak.

Is this real?
Am I crazy?
Is it really possible to feel this much pain?
Surely this is a dream!


Those are some of the thoughts we go through. When the pain is so bad we beg to have the limb chopped off, when the fatigue is so pressing we cannot even think a single coherent thought, when we realize that tomorrow we will have to go through the exact same thing...

Our own private little obstacle course... except ours is made of other peoples voices, televisions in the background, lifting a floofy to wash our skin, getting dressed- and ouch! It really feels like a sunburn! I can't wear anything! My skin is BURNING!-, the hum of the fridge, the water making a wild song as it cleans the dishes, putting on shoes- wait, why did I walk in here?- and it goes on and on and on.

We live for the "good" days, which are truly only passable days. We find our happy and we try to remember it when the sickness is sucking us dry. Bone dry.

We are survivors. We are lucky. We could give in so easily. It's so excruciating and it never stops. The physical pain, but the emotional pain too. The being judged, dismissed, criticized. The way our self-esteem takes a dive and lifts and dives once more, based on how sick we feel that day. We keep climbing up. We are the lone survivor at the end of the horror movie. We are the ones who will always keep you covered. We will not back down. We will not surrender our lives to sickness, even though it damn near gets us too.

We are messy, imperfect, frail and tough together. We cry, we laugh, we scream, we suffer.

We are dreaming in miracles even when we don't know we are.

Someday the world will know the truth about our sickness. They will discover what causes it, discover new ways to treat us, validate all of this agony. We will be more than a Lyrica commercial, more than a magazine article, more than someone's story of Fibromyalgia.

We are writing the whole book with our lives.

In our opening of the eyeballs each morning, in the comforting words we offer one another, in the lifting of the milk carton, in the doctors' offices, in the prejudice against our rosy cheeked glow- "you don't look sick"- in our whole lives...

we are telling the tale of how Fibromyalgia was discovered and understood.

Let us dream.

Restless arms & legs have come back to keep me awake these last two nights. It leaves me to wonder why Gabapentin is not doing its job.
I've decided to up from two pills a day to three, just to see if there is a difference.
It's been torture, to say the least.
After a frantic bout of continuously being pulled from slumber, and the tight feeling of suffocation in my bones and insides (that's the best way to describe it), I remembered I had this cream (thanks mom!) and eagerly slathered it all over my legs and arms.

I hope it goes away so soon.
Truthfully, it is dreadful.

I'm still supremely exhausted and feeling really ill. Oh winter, how I love you, but Fibromyalgia certainly does not.

On a random note, I've decided to take a break from a couple of social media sites, and from reading particular blogs. I am hesitant to post that information here, but I feel it will help me with accountability. I'm not going to be gone long, and not from every site, but there are a few places in the online world that have been hindering me as of late. This is not a new struggle, but I know that I need some time away to be with God in a deeper way and to stop feeding my mind and spirit with all of the good and bad things available online. Last night I was praying about how much time to fast from these sites and I kept coming back to 7 days. I opened my Bible and what do you know? My eyes fell on to these verses about healing, Leprosy (just the other day I was musing about how Fibro seems like the modern day Leprosy... except instead of the nerves not working, we struggle with overactive nerves), and about 7 days of quarantine.

I hear you, God. I hear you.

I believe I actually gasped out loud in delight. I love, love, love how He never fails to surprise me.

So 7 days, starting today.

I won't publicly announce which sites, because I believe that is between me and God. But it's happening.

;)

Candida

Candida die off is hard core.

Every time I go through this I remember how horrible it is.

The scale is 8lbs. down in the week since I have stopped consuming sugar and snacking much. That is a great relief. My insides no longer feel disgustingly full and I can see & feel the changes in my figure and gut. My clothes are fitting better and I am encouraged to keep going, but man, this is severe.

On top of the usual CFS/Fibro I am experiencing the die off symptoms in spades. My exhaustion is paramount and I can hardly stand ANY flicker of the television or movement. More so than usual. I am feeling much more sluggish and drained, dehydrated, achy, and got a random canker sore the other day, which I had no idea was a symptom of die off. Plus my irritability has been full force.

This is a clanging reminder of how serious systematic candida is and how I must be diligent about not consuming sugar. I used to do so well, until I moved and now it will go well for weeks and I will innocently have a piece of chocolate or something and suddenly my body is craving sweets and starches like there is no tomorrow. When the candida is fed it gets greedy.

I am in a new kind of misery. I mentioned a few symptoms but there are a lot more. It's grueling. Blah. I pray this time I would remember how it feels so I don't have to repeat the process.

One of the ways to minimize symptoms is to make sure to rest. Huh. Go figure. THE thing I am supposed to do anyway, per God and per Fibro.

As yucky as this feels I am also quite tickled at the fact that when we ask God to help us obey what He has asked He sure does work all things in and around us to make sure we get there.

Rest. Rest. Rest. Rest. Rest.

Sunday

After weeks of EXTREME exhaustion & pain unrelenting in the slightest, I woke up today with a very precious, tiny canister of energy. I've already made the bed and I can feel the strength sapping fast. This is the blessing and curse moment the person with Fibromyalgia waits for. The little bit of normalcy (and not even!) and the quick draw as the body sucks out with alarming fever.
Already the birds outside that just a moment ago sang so gaily are now piercing my ear drums. The water running in the kitchen loud as a roar. The person in the bathroom, separated by one thin wall, constantly clearing their throat, flushing the toilet, my immediate enemy.
It's such a delicate life to lead.
Already my body is settling back into a state of exhaustion, wherein keeping the eyes open is a chore. I have been awake for less than an hour and already I am drained for the entire day.
Still, I am grateful that for a few brief minutes it was a pleasure to hear the birds sing.

God has been speaking to me about this call to rest. His command for me this year, His desire to have me all to Himself. As I wrote in my journal last night I was brought to the startling discovery that of course (of course!) as God ushers me to choose Him over all things, suddenly things will start competing for my time and energy more than ever! And they won't be half appealing or simply satisfactory. No way. They will be tailored to my desires, because the devil knows what I like. And they will even be good things, like a conference or a trip or new books or new worship CDs or magazines. All of it waiting to steal me away from the rest God is telling me I NEED.
So I have to choose. I have to stop. I have to realign my priorities, my heart. Get back to my first love and settle in for as long as this season shall be. Oh, it is hard!
The truest friends of Fibromyalgia are silence and sleep. All else is a madhouse of sorts.


We pray that you'll have the strength to stick it out over the long haul - not the grim strength of gritting your teeth but the glory-strength God gives. It is strength that endures the unendurable and spills over into joy,
Colossians 1:11

"Hang in there. It is astonishing how short a time it can take for very wonderful things to happen."- Frances Hodgson Burnett


“My face set to a grim and determined expression. I speak in all modesty as I say this, but I discovered at that moment that I have a fierce will to live. It's not something evident, in my experience. Some of us give up on life with only a resigned sigh. Others fight a little, then lose hope. Still others - and I am one of those - never give up. We fight and fight and fight. We fight no matter the cost of battle, the losses we take, the improbability of success. We fight to the every end. It's not a question of courage. It's something constitutional, an inability to let go. It may be nothing more than life-hungry stupidity.”
-Yann Martel


"The worst pair of opposites is boredom and terror. Sometimes your life is a pendulum swing from one to the other. The sea is without a wrinkle. There is not a whisper of wind. The hours last forever. You are so bored you sink into a state of apathy close to a coma. Then the sea becomes rough and your emotions are whipped into a frenzy. Yet even these two opposites do not remain distinct. In your boredom there are elements of terror: you break down into tears; you are filled with dread; you scream; you deliberately hurt yourself. And in the grip of terror – the worst storm – you yet feel boredom, a deep weariness with it all.

Only death consistently excites your emotions, whether contemplating it when life is safe and stale, or fleeing it when life is threatened and precious.

Life on a boat isn’t much of a life. It is like an end game in chess, a game with few pieces. The elements couldn’t be more simple, nor the stakes higher. Physically it is extraordinarily arduous, and morally it is killing. You must make adjustments if you want to survive. Much becomes expendable. You get your happiness when you can. You reach a point where you’re at the bottom of hell, yet you have your arms crossed and a smile on your face, and you feel you’re the luckiest person on earth. Why? Because at your feet you have a tiny dead fish."
-Yann Martel