Where to start?
I haven't felt much like blogging lately, and wrote several posts only to delete them shortly afterwards. I also made this blog private for awhile and then realized that wasn't very fair. Had Holli deleted her blog I never would have stumbled upon it in those dark, dark nights of 2010. If Leah had deleted her blog, I would not have so much information
and a whole community of Fibro sisters. If I had deleted mine I never would have met Alex. Sometimes I feel like what I am sharing on here is insignificant. I wonder if people even read this and I feel overexposed and nervous about sharing so many vulnerable things, but now I understand that all of that doesn't really matter. What matters is sharing what God is doing through my sickness, what He is teaching me, showing me, purging off and out of me. I should never be ashamed of that. How else can I claim this verse?
But he said to me, "My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness." Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ's power may rest on me.
2 Corinthians 12:9
It is only when I face my own limitations, my own fears, my own flesh that I can fully know the full extent of His love and mercy spilled into my life.
So much of sickness is self-condemnation. Guilt runs on replay as my limitations take over. I have been asked if I have ever tried to push through it? Yes, everyday. But here's the thing friends, you cannot push through a defunct central nervous system and a compromised immune system. You can't. I do not have the luxury of deciding what is going to affect my brain and my wiring. ALL of it contributes, overwhelms, takes from me. To live in a body that has no filter for what it takes in, to hear every single sound, see every single movement with no sensor to remove what is unnecessary, to live 24;7 in fight or flight... it's not a pretty world folks.
And here is what I realized yesterday as I drove and talked to God. It's big, are you ready for it?
I am not the selfish one.
Can I say that?
Yes, yes I can. After two and a half years of feeling like I am failing everyone around me, letting so many people down, being criticized for my disabilities, having people feed lies into my spirit.... "you've changed," or "you're no fun anymore...." all of it... I felt like the blinders were ripped off in an instant.
This may sting.
I am not the selfish one. They are.
*
self·ish adj \ˈsel-fish\
Definition of SELFISH
1
: concerned excessively or exclusively with oneself : seeking or concentrating on one's own advantage, pleasure, or well-being without regard for others
2
: arising from concern with one's own welfare or advantage in disregard of others
*
Do I live that way? The definition of selfish? I had to ask myself that. I definitely have selfish behaviors, selfish moments. I am human after all. I fail daily. I sin without thought, can be stubborn, have fallen into pity many a time.... but selfish? I don't think so. Instead I kill myself oh so slowly by trying to be who I once was. By trying to be the pleasing daughter, sister, auntie, friend. I deny my physical needs more often then I respect them, because I am so busy trying to make everyone else happy.
Isn't that selfish to expect, need, demand from me what I do not have to give away? Isn't it selfish to mock me or roll their eyes because I can't be around a lot of noise or activity? Isn't that rude to me when they literally ignore what I say, or when they step on my fragile boundaries with their heavy boots?
I have to be responsible. I have to be verbal. I have to not give in because I feel oh so bad.
It takes so much more strength to be honest about our own weaknesses.
What is happening now, inside of me, is transformation. More of it. Always. Ever. I have to look at people pleasing tendencies I may have carried my whole life, I have to examine the guilt that rages throughout my being.... only secondary to the guilt I carried for YEARS after I lost my baby all those years ago. I have to face humiliation EVERY single time I need to use a motorized cart at Food Lion, every time I have to mute the television in order to listen to someone talking, every time the clock chimes loud and Aaron mutes the TV. I have to listen to continual criticism and advice about MY sicknesses, my lifestyle.
Here's my glorious realization from yesterday....
I am not the selfish one, the healthies who push me are selfish. They want me to fit a mold I no longer fit into, they want me to be better, they want me to be okay for them. And I can understand that they want what's best for me, they want me to have functional lifestyle, they want me to feel better, they love me and want me to get out of this. But here's the thing: I DIDN'T CHOOSE THIS.
This isn't something that delights me, or something that I seek out. This is something that is happening TO me. I have tried to pretend this isn't going on, I still have huge moments of denial, especially lately where I try to "rise above it" and think that I am not sick, but for the most part, I was an active person....
I mean, I went walking and did pilates, and worked with children and had friends and worked in ministry... this isn't to boast of the things I did, this is to say that lifestyle was far more comparable then staying at home twiddling my thumbs and reading books. I can glean things by staying at home, but the point is that it sucks to be ill. It's not something that's fun, it's not about attention. Who in the world wants attention for being sick?! It's negative attention. Who wants attention for not feeling well and ruining everybody's good time and having limitations? I don't want that. It's disheartening and disgusting to me. I feel like I have to cultivate this strict standard of living for myself so I don't freak out have a flare and all kinds of serious repercussions. And that is why I finally realized that they are the selfish ones. This is not pleasurable by any means. Literally every day I wake up expecting to be my old self, and not even emotionally, just in the physical sense. Let's just concentrate on the physical sense. I am waiting to wake up and have the strength that I did. To be able to manage a staff, to be able to work long, grueling hours, to lift boxes, give children piggy back rides, and go to church and jump up and down and sing and delight in worship, to make friends wherever I go, and go to amusement parks and bungee jumping and sky dive. I am expecting to do those things. To go to the Philippines again and go to Europe. I am expecting all of these things, and that's not bad, but it's quite unrealistic because I am not that same able-bodied person, and I think I have a stigma against my own self being disabled. This is supposed to be the prime of my life. Where I'm past the wandering about that is the 20's, the time where I am established and I'm supposed to be doing things I enjoy... and when people ask me insensitive questions like, "do you want a nanny job?" or "do you want to work?" or "have you tried this or that?" it's like, really people? I am the one dealing with it. I am so pro-active. I am so against being a stigma, being a sickie... and it's to my own detriment. That is reality, because I will forever and a day advise fellow sickies to take care of themselves, but I hold myself to this incredibly high standard. I think a lot of us with Fibro do that. We're the type A's and we give and don't stop, and it becomes this catch 22 because you have this strong willed, emotional, effective person who is completely unable to do the most basic of things sometimes, like lift a plate or have energy to take a shower or go on a walk, and then there's all this funkiness that comes with that, because you want to have the same lifestyle you once had. The scenery is moot. It doesn't matter where you are, it's about health. It's about the fact that we are sick people, and not in the way of "oh pity me, oh feel so bad that Janet is sick and can't do things" and blah, blah, blah... That is not what I mean. That is far from what I want.
It makes me sad that people who know me would look at my life and think that I, in any capacity, am loving this journey. I'm not. I love gleaning new insights that the Lord deposits in my spirit, I love meeting other people going through the same thing, but the physical part of it? There is nothing pleasant to me about staying home every single day, about being the kill joy when someone wants to watch as a movie as a family or have dinner together or conversations, or even to go to Target. I want to be able to just, on my accord, without having to pay homage to my body and the physical ramifications, be able to pick up on a whim and just go and do things.
People are selfish. They have complained about how I am moody or tired, and it's like DUH! Wouldn't you be moody? Are you moody when you have the flu, when you miss work? What about these Facebook statuses I read about your runny nose and your strep throat... you're sitting here bitching (really) and complaining after a day or a couple of days, but you're not in a body that is sick for years with no end in sight. You're not in a body that is always fatigued no matter what you do, that is not replenished by sleep, you are not in a body that works against you every second of every single day. Is there bitterness there?
Yes. There is sometimes. I believe in telling the truth, and a part of that is admitting there is jealousy there. Especially people who take their health for granted. It's annoying, but I also understand because I did too. I took my health for granted, even when I had vertigo and tendinitis or migraines... you just can't comprehend it until you are going through it every day like this. This is hellish in it's own way for anybody who is sick. Anything that is chronic. Anybody who has something so severe, that never leaves you, that is always a barometer for how your life is going to go, its annoying and suffocating and feels like a prison and you have to really, really, really be able to be self-aware. You have to look at your flaws. You have to look at everything basically and you have to weigh your life against whether or not it's worth it to have the pain. And it's not that you don't care about people, it's not that you don't want to be an active part of the community or church or anything, it's the fact that you are sick.
I am sick.
I have to tell myself that because I don't always believe that. I downplay what I'm going through.
I do have to be a little selfish sometimes. I have to protect myself. I have a compromised immune system and a compromised nervous system. I realize that sounds incredibly vast. I wouldn't even know what that means either, but I'm going through it, so I had to do research. The truth is I don't even fully know, there isn't a whole lot of information about Fibro and what causes it and what it is actually doing and I've got these viruses and stuff, so you have to put a lot of time into yourself, into learning, into accommodating the illness. Think about when you have a visitor you aren't all that peachy about it, you clean the bathrooms and get everything ready but it's to accommodate a visitor that you have no desire to even hang out with. That's how it feels to have Fibro. I have no desire to hang out with this thing, no desire to deal with it, no desire to endure it, but I don't have a choice. I have to because it's happening. I've tried denial and mind over matter. You can't ignore your nervous system, that's what makes you you, that's what makes you up. That's your brain and body function, that's Fibromyalgia.
A patient has to do what they need to do, individually, to take care of themselves. And this is my best. I go on walks when I can, I make little tasks for myself. That is how I am being strong and I'll tell you, the spirit is hard to break. With sickness it's easy to break down, and easy to want to give up. I have completely wanted to give up at times, but the thing is, that's a fleeting emotion that comes on the worst of days. The reality is that my spirit IS strong, and the Lord is in me, and I am full of His strength. I get up everyday, and for me, that is a huge thing. I'm not there yet- I haven't fully accepted this, but I'm on my way. I can feel it. Sometimes I cycle through anger and denial and bargaining and depression, and I have to give all of those things, all of the time back to God. Over and over. I have to because that's where my faith lies, where inspiration comes, where my strength comes from... relying completely, wholly, 100% on on the promises of God in my life. And I'm not talking about promises about marriage or worldly issues, I'm talking about the promise that I am paid for, that I am ransomed because of His blood, that I am totally reliant on the one who saved me! It's not about a worldly or temporal vision, it's about an everlasting vision, that this pain, whether I live on this earth for 50 more years or 2 days, I have got to learn how to live like this. Without any self- pity or depression, accepting that this is my reality. And I'm not there yet, but I believe that everyday God shapes me and shows how to keep walking the path to it.
Life.
There are so many lessons everyday and God is so faithful to remind me that I am not in this fight alone. 90% of the time I do feel alone, just me and God but the reality is that He sends so many people to help me through this. To challenge my fleshy heart, my entitlement, my agenda. There is such a beauty in being sick, and these aren't just trite words, if I were to die tomorrow, I would consider that I had a very great and blessed life even with Fibromyalgia. Being sick has opened up my heart and mind so much, in a way I just wasn't capable of before. And I'm not saying sickness is the only way to this, but for me, my life.... for my selfishness, my worldliness, my old viewpoint... it is what is stripping me, refining me. I thought I was beyond this because I am a believer, because I went to church but I still relied on my accomplishments, my status, being a leader, a spiritual mama, a nanny, being a type A. I wore my achievements as a crown, and my only crown can be Jesus and that is what Fibromyalgia is teaching me. I want to say I have this mastered, but I don't and the reality is that I probably won't for as long as I am on earth, but I see my life as significant. Maybe not to anyone on this earthly plain, but significant to the God of the universe, the God who chose me, and He knew I would get Fibromyalgia, He knew I would be sick and that I wouldn't be able to work, and He still picked me anyway, to be a part of His kingdom and to be a part of His family. There is work He still wants to do through me, and so I have to continually give this back to Him or else the bitterness does get too big, or the depression does get too big, and I do push myself. Sometimes that's good, and sometimes it's not so good. It's not healthy to push past your limitations. I have to be able to say to myself "you are sick. Janet, you are sick. You have a problem with your immune system, you have a problem with your nervous system. You are not crazy, you did not do anything wrong." And that's the thing, just like when I lost my baby, I feel like this is my fault. That I asked to be sick or made a choice or did something wrong, like I have to atone for it. But that's wrong, because Jesus already atoned for me on the cross.
So I'm not the selfish one here. I am learning how to be more like Christ in my sufferings, I am learning how to yield my flesh and desires and my life to Him, and they can't just be words or songs that we sing: "Lord I give my life to you, Lord I love you, Jesus lover of my soul, take my life...." We can't sing those things and then not expect to not really give our lives away, because that's what being in a relationship with Jesus is. It's giving away everything He has given us. And I want to be that person on my best day, and on my worst one. In a happy season, and in a brittle one like now. I want to be a woman that is after God's heart and if that makes people not like me, makes people talk about me, makes people judge my life, then so be it. I have to gain strength from that, from remembering that even Jesus was not accepted in his own hometown. He was mocked, and people belittled Him and He died this bloody, violent death so that I wouldn't have to sit here in condemnation. I carry this condemnation, this hellish guilt at being in a sick vessel and I want it to be broken off. So I have to yield and it has to be everyday, and I have to remember that I am not selfish. This is self-preservation and everything that I have to do in order to live is what I have to do. At the same time I have to also give away of my time and my talents and my love, and I think more then anything, I am understanding that we can do for people... I'm a doer, a giver, even with Fibro, but what I am slowly learning is that loving people is so much more imperative then the doing. You can't do for people unless you actually love them.
I don't feel sorry for myself. I don't. I may cry and I may sulk about Fibro and sickness and loneliness, but I don't feel sorry for myself because I have the One in me who is above all of this, and so my moods and my little fleshy meltdowns are nothing in comparison to what He does to a heart that is ransomed for Him. I pray that I will be open no matter where I am in life. Honestly I believe, God did not make me sick, but the choices I was making, running myself ragged and trying to be everyone's everything, that's not the life He had for me. Slowly am learning to accept that. Each day is a process and I am just learning.
That's my big revelation and it's pretty freeing...
I'm not the selfish one and this isn't my fault.
I'm not the selfish one.
People wanting me to be a certain way, people refusing to acknowledge my reality, people putting me down....
I can't be responsible for that.
I am sick. I am sick. I am sick. I am sick. I am sick.
My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.
Psalm 73:26
"You will not have to fight this battle. Take up your positions; stand firm and see the deliverance the Lord will give you, Judah and Jerusalem. Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged. Go out to face them tomorrow, and the Lord will be with you.’”
2 Chronicles 20:17
I was able to carry my own library books yesterday. :) It's the little things.
P.S. I have this lump on the left side of my neck... poor left side. Everything breaks down on that side, from ear infections to hip bursitis to osteoarthrotis/tendinitis. It has been there for months, and it gets bigger and then small again. Lately the neck pain has been off the charts and the lump is bigger. Please pray it's nothing.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
Wednesday, April 25, 2012
Humbled
Had some sweet, sweet revelations today and to cap it off I got this amazing message of encouragement from an old friend. It has me a little stunned in the best way possible. Because it's God again, showing me His promise, showing His love and faithfulness in so many millions of ways. My heart is so tender tonight.
I don't know how or why God loves me this much. I don't even know what to say to her yet. I have to wrap my mind around the fact that I have been so selfish. I have even been selfish to delete my Facebook accounts and delete friends. I am a child of God. He is the reason why I am alive... not only by flesh and blood, with a heart beating in my chest, but also really alive, in Him. He is the reason I smell the flowers dancing in blades of grass, hear the songs sweetly sung in two ears previously half-listening as I went about 3 other to-do's at the same time. He is my reason. His love, meant to shine in the life of a believer. Not my life alone, but His.
I have been so greedy to hoard away all of this love. This vast, immeasurable love. It is so thick it comes in buckets, sheets. I write freely now. Unashamed. Aware that I possess it- THIS!-everything! It is loud and soft and tender and violently lovely. I can't escape the riches of His love.
I feel reckless and full of divine light and love.
Jesus.
Uncover me. Let me stand with a pure heart before you.
I don't know how or why God loves me this much. I don't even know what to say to her yet. I have to wrap my mind around the fact that I have been so selfish. I have even been selfish to delete my Facebook accounts and delete friends. I am a child of God. He is the reason why I am alive... not only by flesh and blood, with a heart beating in my chest, but also really alive, in Him. He is the reason I smell the flowers dancing in blades of grass, hear the songs sweetly sung in two ears previously half-listening as I went about 3 other to-do's at the same time. He is my reason. His love, meant to shine in the life of a believer. Not my life alone, but His.
I have been so greedy to hoard away all of this love. This vast, immeasurable love. It is so thick it comes in buckets, sheets. I write freely now. Unashamed. Aware that I possess it- THIS!-everything! It is loud and soft and tender and violently lovely. I can't escape the riches of His love.
I feel reckless and full of divine light and love.
Jesus.
Uncover me. Let me stand with a pure heart before you.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Mothers
From March 17, 2012
Today my mom wanted to take a video of me on her cell phone. I was slightly flattered and a little bit awkward. I am used to being the one who wants to record people. Scarcely does anyone record me. That happens when you grow up. Or maybe I spent so long taking a backseat that I just grew accustomed to not being the one recorded or photographed.... not being the one to shine.
It was just a regular day. Nothing special or out of the ordinary. Except I was wearing a headband. A headband with a burnt orange flower hanging off of it. I looked like a hippie girl.
I saw a look in my mother's eyes as she stared at that headband and her daughter, smiling, having just sat outside reading a book in the sunshine. Her daughter, who is sick everyday and only recently, her daughter who has started laughing again.
I knew inside why she wanted to take a video of me.
It's the way I feel about recording Little. The way I feel when I watch her color or count or speak grown-up words from little pink lips. Watching her discover life for the first time. I am in love, fascinated by those little eyes, captivated by that small human who taught me how to love just by existing.
It's how my own mother must feel.
How she has felt.
It's a love that is strong and almost too delicate to explain. I, for absolute certain, never once understood the desperate, rooted in, forever feeling of pure devotion to anyone or anything until I fell in love with that tiny child. She is not born of my flesh. Sperm did not meet my egg to create her essence, but God surely did knit her in my heart even before she came into being.
She is mine in any way she could be, except by flesh. I did not bleed and bear her from my womb, grunting and sweating with the pains of labor nor do I carry physical scars of flesh cut open to reveal her to the world.
But oh, how I have wept for her.
How I have protected her, cradled her in arms near my heart swollen with love.
A love so blinding, so severe
that it crushed as much as it filled up.
Never once did I need to record....
with fingertips, with eyes, with heart
until I knew how it felt to be a mother.
I now know that a mother's heart is wide and strong,
stronger then anyone else's.
I now know that birthing a child truly does not make one a mother.
A mother is...
time and love and teaching and raising and singing soft songs in the night, rubbing soft baby skin and soothing and adoring and everything worth it because you want that child to know love and be love and give love
and that ache in the heart....
the one that never leaves. The one that calls and demands an answer,
"child of mine, where are you?"
I feel so fortunate to know this love.
As the giver, but
as a receiver too.
Could I have loved Little so?
If I had not been rocked and comforted and laughed with and adored?
If my own mother did not stop
that pause of love
just that headband and that sunshine pouring in through the glass,
nothing extraordinary
highlighting that smile
to record me
with eyes lit up
as I discover life for the first time?
Today my mom wanted to take a video of me on her cell phone. I was slightly flattered and a little bit awkward. I am used to being the one who wants to record people. Scarcely does anyone record me. That happens when you grow up. Or maybe I spent so long taking a backseat that I just grew accustomed to not being the one recorded or photographed.... not being the one to shine.
It was just a regular day. Nothing special or out of the ordinary. Except I was wearing a headband. A headband with a burnt orange flower hanging off of it. I looked like a hippie girl.
I saw a look in my mother's eyes as she stared at that headband and her daughter, smiling, having just sat outside reading a book in the sunshine. Her daughter, who is sick everyday and only recently, her daughter who has started laughing again.
I knew inside why she wanted to take a video of me.
It's the way I feel about recording Little. The way I feel when I watch her color or count or speak grown-up words from little pink lips. Watching her discover life for the first time. I am in love, fascinated by those little eyes, captivated by that small human who taught me how to love just by existing.
It's how my own mother must feel.
How she has felt.
It's a love that is strong and almost too delicate to explain. I, for absolute certain, never once understood the desperate, rooted in, forever feeling of pure devotion to anyone or anything until I fell in love with that tiny child. She is not born of my flesh. Sperm did not meet my egg to create her essence, but God surely did knit her in my heart even before she came into being.
She is mine in any way she could be, except by flesh. I did not bleed and bear her from my womb, grunting and sweating with the pains of labor nor do I carry physical scars of flesh cut open to reveal her to the world.
But oh, how I have wept for her.
How I have protected her, cradled her in arms near my heart swollen with love.
A love so blinding, so severe
that it crushed as much as it filled up.
Never once did I need to record....
with fingertips, with eyes, with heart
until I knew how it felt to be a mother.
I now know that a mother's heart is wide and strong,
stronger then anyone else's.
I now know that birthing a child truly does not make one a mother.
A mother is...
time and love and teaching and raising and singing soft songs in the night, rubbing soft baby skin and soothing and adoring and everything worth it because you want that child to know love and be love and give love
and that ache in the heart....
the one that never leaves. The one that calls and demands an answer,
"child of mine, where are you?"
I feel so fortunate to know this love.
As the giver, but
as a receiver too.
Could I have loved Little so?
If I had not been rocked and comforted and laughed with and adored?
If my own mother did not stop
that pause of love
just that headband and that sunshine pouring in through the glass,
nothing extraordinary
highlighting that smile
to record me
with eyes lit up
as I discover life for the first time?
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
Recovery Flare
My body one big charley horse, limbs aching, head spinning, eyes begging to close. There is NO energy. None. Not even the baby energy that springs up on the rare days.
This is "recovery." That is a nice way to say "payback." This is my payback for thinking I could act like a normal yesterday.
It was worth it... at the time. I had 6+ hours of alone time. I went to the library and picked up 16 library holds, stopped and took photos of so many delightful trees and flowers, went to the bookstore and read magazines, went to the movies by myself, went to do a few errands. I listened to music and worshiped Jesus in the car, and interacted with numerous people. I walked, not using the handicap space like usual, electing to walk the extra distance instead because it was a "good" day.
I felt so triumphant last night when I got home. The fatigue was already seeping in. The bleary moody that comes after doing... well, just about anything. I did it! I went out, on my own, and I had fun. I felt like a normal, like a real person.
I know I am a real person. I know I am sick. It just gets to feeling sometimes like I'm not really living in the way that most people live. I'm not. That's just the honest truth. And I don't mind it most of the time. I am used to it now after a few years like this. But days like today it breaks me for a moment. Days like yesterday are rare. I maybe go out 7x a month, if that and usually the outings are brief and then it's home to "recover." Yesterday was my personal Disneyland.
I lay on the bed absolutely still. Muscles so tense, feet cramping, hurts to comb my hair, and the tears leaked out. Quiet moans of anguish as I feel fresh how much Fibro demands.
I am determined to find a silver lining in this... and so I choose to be grateful that I was able to go out yesterday. I choose to remember that this hellish day WILL pass and I WILL have another random "good" day.
This is hard, folks. It was hard at the beginning, stumbling blind in sickness and not knowing what was happening. It was hard each day in-between. It is hard now. The difference is now I know...
I know people will doubt me, doubt my sickness. It still hurts. I cannot lie about that. But I know now that what people think does not matter. It feels like it matters. I get discouraged. I feel defensive. I cry. I ponder if I am strong enough, if I am doing all I can within my means, if I am failing...
Failing at what?
At life?
At pleasing others?
I'm not sure. Both. All. More.
But I am the one who has cried, bled, hurt, ached, sweat, been prodded, been in public restrooms vomiting my guts out. I am the one who has not been believed, who has sat in room after room after room at some clinic or some hospital being told it was in my head, that I'm too young, being misdiagnosed, being told I have the back of a 60 year old woman.
I. Me.
My experience. My heartache. My tale.
I know what I have to do to live. I am the one who lives it.
I have researched, I have gotten treatment, I am the one taking a billion pills a day.
The most pleasing and glorious thing anyone can do for me... for anyone who is sick... is allowing the sick person to be sick.
I do not want pity. I do not want to be coddled. I do not want the world to revolve around me. What I would like is to be given the respect to be left alone when I need to be. The respect that I have an illness (a few in fact)and that my life is adjusted just so, in the way that I need it to be, so I can function on a daily basis.
It's not that I want to say no.
It's not that I don't care about you or you or you.
It's not that I want to stay in bed.
It's not that I don't care what you are saying.
I just have a limited reserve and I am asking you to respect that.
Today is a flare day from hell.
But it's still another day....
to breathe
to smile
to eat a hamburger for dinner
to be alive
Let me have my day.
Sunday, March 18, 2012
Day 9 sugar free.
Super flare.
Weakness,
upset stomach,
eyeball headache,
night sweats,
aching limbs,
dull throb in legs and arms,
dropping things,
noises are mean,
neck pinched,
pain everywhere- even my elbows,
exhaustion all over.
Once Upon A Time & the
Walking Dead season finale is tonight.
Ooh, and Frozen Planet starts!
I could stay in a hot shower forever. Heat really is Fibromyalgia's best friend.
Super flare.
Weakness,
upset stomach,
eyeball headache,
night sweats,
aching limbs,
dull throb in legs and arms,
dropping things,
noises are mean,
neck pinched,
pain everywhere- even my elbows,
exhaustion all over.
Once Upon A Time & the
Walking Dead season finale is tonight.
Ooh, and Frozen Planet starts!
I could stay in a hot shower forever. Heat really is Fibromyalgia's best friend.
Saturday, March 3, 2012
Thursday, March 1, 2012
Sunny Days
I usually feel like I must look a mess because I constantly feel exhausted and sick. I'm always in pain. The levels vary, some days are tolerable, some days are absolutely miserable, and others are actually darn good. It's a lottery everyday. I don't know what is going to be going on with my body until I wake up.
Lately I have been having migraines again, night sweats (waking up soaked through my nightgown), and radiating pain everywhere. Last night back spasms came to play and the migraine became a jaw, neck, back of the head, temple, and everywhere on the left side of the head pain. My eyes began to water and I felt oh so miserable. I took a couple of Benadryls and called it a night.
Enter today: I woke up super exhausted. That's usually the case, but some days are more severe then others. It was such a lovely day out. The sun was shining and the breeze was soft. I decided to go on a walk.
The picture above (has been removed) displays none of the pain in my body. Not at all. It surprises me. I can see why people are confused when I say how I feel. It really is invisible. This picture doesn't show how slow I walked and how it felt like climbing Mt. Everest (or what I imagine it to feel like), it doesn't show how I shooed Aaron on ahead because he has a normal pace and I have a slow one and how he was already around the block before I got to halfway. ;)And it most certainly does not display how every muscle in my body is on fire now just from taking a short walk. A walk I took for granted years ago.
The picture above makes me realize how strong I really am. How strong ALL of us fighting sickness are. No one can see our pain, but we sure as heck feel it.
I sat in the garage a bit ago and felt the absolute contentment of the warm, still air. I can't wait for summer. It is strange to say. I've always been a cold weather girl. I love the rain, the snow, the chilly nights. But Fibro likes the warmth way better, and I'm looking forward to that.
Now it's time to watch X-Men: First Class.
Have a good night, my lovelies.
Lately I have been having migraines again, night sweats (waking up soaked through my nightgown), and radiating pain everywhere. Last night back spasms came to play and the migraine became a jaw, neck, back of the head, temple, and everywhere on the left side of the head pain. My eyes began to water and I felt oh so miserable. I took a couple of Benadryls and called it a night.
Enter today: I woke up super exhausted. That's usually the case, but some days are more severe then others. It was such a lovely day out. The sun was shining and the breeze was soft. I decided to go on a walk.
The picture above (has been removed) displays none of the pain in my body. Not at all. It surprises me. I can see why people are confused when I say how I feel. It really is invisible. This picture doesn't show how slow I walked and how it felt like climbing Mt. Everest (or what I imagine it to feel like), it doesn't show how I shooed Aaron on ahead because he has a normal pace and I have a slow one and how he was already around the block before I got to halfway. ;)And it most certainly does not display how every muscle in my body is on fire now just from taking a short walk. A walk I took for granted years ago.
The picture above makes me realize how strong I really am. How strong ALL of us fighting sickness are. No one can see our pain, but we sure as heck feel it.
I sat in the garage a bit ago and felt the absolute contentment of the warm, still air. I can't wait for summer. It is strange to say. I've always been a cold weather girl. I love the rain, the snow, the chilly nights. But Fibro likes the warmth way better, and I'm looking forward to that.
Now it's time to watch X-Men: First Class.
Have a good night, my lovelies.
Sunday, February 26, 2012
It's All Gonna be Okay
I just got in from a jaunt around the block. The air was crisp and the purple/pink sky beckoned me forward. I have mentioned before how enthralled I am with nature. I adore the tiny yellow flowers hanging out among the weeds, the sprinkle of purple flowers on the field across the way. It can be so easy to not drink it in... this splendor we have everyday as a buffet, and I am not just talking flowers and trees here. I mean everything. The way the moon and the stars hang in the sky just so, designed by a God who is both extremely detailed and wildly spontaneous. The way music can change the atmosphere, like rediscovering a favorite song not heard for years or watching home movies of different seasons of life....
These months since the move have been a blur. Literally, I remember bits and pieces, highlighted by the continual walk forward through the changes. My heart has been broken, bound back together, broken again, and stirred up to a tenderness I can't fully convey. I've always been highly sensitive. As I grew up family members would chastise me and tell me to not be so sensitive, and I became an adult who believed it was wrong to feel so very much. In my short 11 years of walking with the Lord He has revealed to me that this sensitive spirit comes from Him, and that tenderness is what enables me to love and raise children not born of my flesh, it has brought me to a place of intense awareness of the atmosphere around me, and it allows me to really, really feel what others are feeling. Here's the thing: when we ask Papa for something He gives it to us. So, asking Him to break my heart for what breaks His, to sing songs of love and to declare "Lord, I will go to the ends of the earth if you want me to" means that I can live in expectation that He will surely bring me to those things.
If we belong to Him, fully, exclusively, sins and all, then how can we have anything but hearts that are so open and true? Do we ignore the homeless man who rides up on a bicycle asking for $1 for something to eat at a nearby KFC, or do we roll down our window and ask what we can get for him?
Do you notice him? Do you see him the way God does? Do you love him, without knowing anything about him? Can you feel his heartbeat? Does your desire to bless him outweigh your desire to develop those photos on your USB or get your Starbucks fix?
Do you love him?
Because that is important. More important then making it to service on Sunday, more important then that church bake sale, more important then what is on the DVR.
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
Matthew 25:40
Does your heart break for the people around you, especially when they are unlovable? What about when the person asking something of you does not fit the Christian mold of today? What if she is a prostitute? What if he is a drug addict? What if they come to YOUR church building dirty and smelling of booze? Will you honor him or her? Will you give them the best seat in the house, or would you turn your head, whisper to your friends, content in the suburban Christianity that you call yours? This is important. Are you Jesus in your sphere? Do people know they can call you, text you, send a telegram for prayer anytime? Are you a life line for anyone? Are you reading all the hot Christian books and posting quotes on Twitter or Facebook, but not really living out the life you are called to when you surrender to Jesus?
These are questions I must frequently ask myself. I know my flaws well. I know my irritations, my fleshy desires that demand my attention. I know how easy it is to feel apathetic especially being chronically ill. However, that is not how I am called to live.
Lately I have been going through rather extensive reflection process. I've dug out some old VHS tapes and it has been entirely surreal to watch myself...
at 21 years old bungee jumping...
at 20 having alcohol for the first time at a party with schoolmates from junior high and high school...
at 17 during my high school graduation....
at 16 having a birthday party and feeling so insecure about being videotaped... I had forgotten how much I hated having my picture taken back in those days....
and I have not even dived into the childhood footage yet.
But in watching these fragments of time, I can feel the Lord seriously binding up my heart. It's as if these last 2.5 years of crucible have been building up to this accelerated moment of intense love and memory, resulting in a lighter and happier heart.
I watched as my Uncle and Auntie held up my Grandma to dance (she was no longer able to after a stroke and was in a wheelchair) during that birthday party. 7 months after that party she passed away, and God privileged me to be in the room with her when she took her last breath. I still remember her eyes looking heavenward on the days before she passed. She spoke of a chariot, she spoke of "the children." This has absolutely nothing to do with what I am talking about, but it was a sweet moment to discover this footage on tape.
The thing is this: God has all of our days planned.
Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land.
Job 1:10
He knows His children. He knows YOU. He knows me. He knows what makes us tick and what makes us so happy our hearts could burst. As I drove to the store to get some communion cups (so cool, for the first time ever I took communion by myself at home and plan to once a month since I can't always make it to church) I passed by the spot where an Olive Garden is being built in this town, and I smiled and tears sprang to my eyes. Yes, I believe that God loves me so much, that He knows my heart so much, that He allowed for an Olive Garden to be built here because He knew it would make me happy and that it would make it feel more like "home." God is in the details.
We are taken care of. No matter how deep the crucible.
cru·ci·ble/ˈkro͞osəbəl/
Noun:
A ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures.
A place or occasion of severe test or trial: "the crucible of combat".
That is something that we are told on repeat as believers. It is something we struggle to remember on the very worst of days, and the amazing thing is that even when we don't feel taken care of, we are.
Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?
Matthew 6:26
Over and over in my own life I have witnessed and felt the boldness of God's love. It has come in waves, and other times it has felt so quiet. For a long season I felt like God was hiding His face from me. I did not feel His nearness as I used to and I felt like I must have done something wrong. Full disclosure here: struggling to live in spite of being ill, having my entire world turn upside down, and experiencing my whole identity being stripped and rebuilt.... it's been quite the pickle. It's hard to cling to God when you can't feel Him. The amazing, absolutely beautiful thing is that HE DOES NOT EVER LET GO. Not once, not even for one minute. His hands are not like ours, that start to sweat and slip to hold on. No, no, no. His grip is strong, His love unequivocal.
LORD, you are the God who saves me;
day and night I cry out to you.
May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.
I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.
I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like one without strength.
I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care.
You have put me in the lowest pit,
in the darkest depths.
Your wrath lies heavily on me;
you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.[d]
You have taken from me my closest friends
and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;
my eyes are dim with grief.
I call to you, LORD, every day;
I spread out my hands to you.
Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their spirits rise up and praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave,
your faithfulness in Destruction[e]?
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
But I cry to you for help, LORD;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Why, LORD, do you reject me
and hide your face from me?
From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;
I have borne your terrors and am in despair.
Your wrath has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me.
All day long they surround me like a flood;
they have completely engulfed me.
You have taken from me friend and neighbor—
darkness is my closest friend.
Psalm 88
I am still in the crucible, the path is still dim, and yet MY GOD, He is unfailing. He listens to my pleas, He scoops up my teardrops, He consoles, He binds up a heart that aches. He IS.
In 2007 I burned all 84+ journals I kept in the trunk by my bed after Papa whispered to my heart: "I don't keep a record of your sins, why do you?" My record of my life from 12 years to 27. And then when I moved here last year I burned about 15 more. I kept certain entries, and earlier this week I re-read through them, and in that something began to change in my spirit. I read my entries from my 2 weeks in the Philippines and my soul awoke again. I remembered.
I started to know myself again.
These last years have been like Alice falling into the rabbit hole...
and lately it feels like instead of falling through darkness....
there is a little light...
as I cling to Truth:
and one day I know I will no longer be falling and instead be sitting by His stream of peace.
In other news: I have decided to stop taking Xanax. I believe it is an effective medication, and it has helped me so much. One reason is that I don't have a doctor here yet and so I have no pain or anti-anxiety meds (except for what my precious friend has generously shared, bless her heart) but mainly it is because it seems to have the opposite effect now. I find that it calms my anxiety (which is happening less frequently these days! Yay!)but afterwards I either get extremely depressed or fly into a rage. No thank you to both of those.
I have had a left temple/eyeball migraine for the last 4 nights. It plays peek-a-boo and lends itself to insomnia, even after taking Melatonin. I think the culprit was the Pepsi I drank 4 nights ago (caffeine is a huge negative for me).
Walking has become a more frequent event, though I usually walk like a snail. Hey, at least I'm out there again. ;) I've been writing a lot more also. Blogging is fun, but for me, nothing beats good old fashioned journaling.
Life is unfolding as it is supposed to. I am hedged in. I am loved. I love. Music is bliss. Creation is marvelous. I am blessed.
I know that Fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, these viral infections, and all the other conditions are going to take lots of work to manage. I know that I have to take it day by day and that I do have extreme limitations, but I also know this....
God is good and He is love.
That's all I need to know.
xoxo
These months since the move have been a blur. Literally, I remember bits and pieces, highlighted by the continual walk forward through the changes. My heart has been broken, bound back together, broken again, and stirred up to a tenderness I can't fully convey. I've always been highly sensitive. As I grew up family members would chastise me and tell me to not be so sensitive, and I became an adult who believed it was wrong to feel so very much. In my short 11 years of walking with the Lord He has revealed to me that this sensitive spirit comes from Him, and that tenderness is what enables me to love and raise children not born of my flesh, it has brought me to a place of intense awareness of the atmosphere around me, and it allows me to really, really feel what others are feeling. Here's the thing: when we ask Papa for something He gives it to us. So, asking Him to break my heart for what breaks His, to sing songs of love and to declare "Lord, I will go to the ends of the earth if you want me to" means that I can live in expectation that He will surely bring me to those things.
If we belong to Him, fully, exclusively, sins and all, then how can we have anything but hearts that are so open and true? Do we ignore the homeless man who rides up on a bicycle asking for $1 for something to eat at a nearby KFC, or do we roll down our window and ask what we can get for him?
Do you notice him? Do you see him the way God does? Do you love him, without knowing anything about him? Can you feel his heartbeat? Does your desire to bless him outweigh your desire to develop those photos on your USB or get your Starbucks fix?
Do you love him?
Because that is important. More important then making it to service on Sunday, more important then that church bake sale, more important then what is on the DVR.
“The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’
Matthew 25:40
Does your heart break for the people around you, especially when they are unlovable? What about when the person asking something of you does not fit the Christian mold of today? What if she is a prostitute? What if he is a drug addict? What if they come to YOUR church building dirty and smelling of booze? Will you honor him or her? Will you give them the best seat in the house, or would you turn your head, whisper to your friends, content in the suburban Christianity that you call yours? This is important. Are you Jesus in your sphere? Do people know they can call you, text you, send a telegram for prayer anytime? Are you a life line for anyone? Are you reading all the hot Christian books and posting quotes on Twitter or Facebook, but not really living out the life you are called to when you surrender to Jesus?
These are questions I must frequently ask myself. I know my flaws well. I know my irritations, my fleshy desires that demand my attention. I know how easy it is to feel apathetic especially being chronically ill. However, that is not how I am called to live.
Lately I have been going through rather extensive reflection process. I've dug out some old VHS tapes and it has been entirely surreal to watch myself...
at 21 years old bungee jumping...
at 20 having alcohol for the first time at a party with schoolmates from junior high and high school...
at 17 during my high school graduation....
at 16 having a birthday party and feeling so insecure about being videotaped... I had forgotten how much I hated having my picture taken back in those days....
and I have not even dived into the childhood footage yet.
But in watching these fragments of time, I can feel the Lord seriously binding up my heart. It's as if these last 2.5 years of crucible have been building up to this accelerated moment of intense love and memory, resulting in a lighter and happier heart.
I watched as my Uncle and Auntie held up my Grandma to dance (she was no longer able to after a stroke and was in a wheelchair) during that birthday party. 7 months after that party she passed away, and God privileged me to be in the room with her when she took her last breath. I still remember her eyes looking heavenward on the days before she passed. She spoke of a chariot, she spoke of "the children." This has absolutely nothing to do with what I am talking about, but it was a sweet moment to discover this footage on tape.
The thing is this: God has all of our days planned.
Have you not put a hedge around him and his household and everything he has? You have blessed the work of his hands, so that his flocks and herds are spread throughout the land.
Job 1:10
He knows His children. He knows YOU. He knows me. He knows what makes us tick and what makes us so happy our hearts could burst. As I drove to the store to get some communion cups (so cool, for the first time ever I took communion by myself at home and plan to once a month since I can't always make it to church) I passed by the spot where an Olive Garden is being built in this town, and I smiled and tears sprang to my eyes. Yes, I believe that God loves me so much, that He knows my heart so much, that He allowed for an Olive Garden to be built here because He knew it would make me happy and that it would make it feel more like "home." God is in the details.
We are taken care of. No matter how deep the crucible.
cru·ci·ble/ˈkro͞osəbəl/
Noun:
A ceramic or metal container in which metals or other substances may be melted or subjected to very high temperatures.
A place or occasion of severe test or trial: "the crucible of combat".
That is something that we are told on repeat as believers. It is something we struggle to remember on the very worst of days, and the amazing thing is that even when we don't feel taken care of, we are.
Look at the birds of the air; they do not sow or reap or store away in barns, and yet your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not much more valuable than they?
Matthew 6:26
Over and over in my own life I have witnessed and felt the boldness of God's love. It has come in waves, and other times it has felt so quiet. For a long season I felt like God was hiding His face from me. I did not feel His nearness as I used to and I felt like I must have done something wrong. Full disclosure here: struggling to live in spite of being ill, having my entire world turn upside down, and experiencing my whole identity being stripped and rebuilt.... it's been quite the pickle. It's hard to cling to God when you can't feel Him. The amazing, absolutely beautiful thing is that HE DOES NOT EVER LET GO. Not once, not even for one minute. His hands are not like ours, that start to sweat and slip to hold on. No, no, no. His grip is strong, His love unequivocal.
LORD, you are the God who saves me;
day and night I cry out to you.
May my prayer come before you;
turn your ear to my cry.
I am overwhelmed with troubles
and my life draws near to death.
I am counted among those who go down to the pit;
I am like one without strength.
I am set apart with the dead,
like the slain who lie in the grave,
whom you remember no more,
who are cut off from your care.
You have put me in the lowest pit,
in the darkest depths.
Your wrath lies heavily on me;
you have overwhelmed me with all your waves.[d]
You have taken from me my closest friends
and have made me repulsive to them.
I am confined and cannot escape;
my eyes are dim with grief.
I call to you, LORD, every day;
I spread out my hands to you.
Do you show your wonders to the dead?
Do their spirits rise up and praise you?
Is your love declared in the grave,
your faithfulness in Destruction[e]?
Are your wonders known in the place of darkness,
or your righteous deeds in the land of oblivion?
But I cry to you for help, LORD;
in the morning my prayer comes before you.
Why, LORD, do you reject me
and hide your face from me?
From my youth I have suffered and been close to death;
I have borne your terrors and am in despair.
Your wrath has swept over me;
your terrors have destroyed me.
All day long they surround me like a flood;
they have completely engulfed me.
You have taken from me friend and neighbor—
darkness is my closest friend.
Psalm 88
I am still in the crucible, the path is still dim, and yet MY GOD, He is unfailing. He listens to my pleas, He scoops up my teardrops, He consoles, He binds up a heart that aches. He IS.
In 2007 I burned all 84+ journals I kept in the trunk by my bed after Papa whispered to my heart: "I don't keep a record of your sins, why do you?" My record of my life from 12 years to 27. And then when I moved here last year I burned about 15 more. I kept certain entries, and earlier this week I re-read through them, and in that something began to change in my spirit. I read my entries from my 2 weeks in the Philippines and my soul awoke again. I remembered.
I started to know myself again.
These last years have been like Alice falling into the rabbit hole...
and lately it feels like instead of falling through darkness....
there is a little light...
as I cling to Truth:
and one day I know I will no longer be falling and instead be sitting by His stream of peace.
In other news: I have decided to stop taking Xanax. I believe it is an effective medication, and it has helped me so much. One reason is that I don't have a doctor here yet and so I have no pain or anti-anxiety meds (except for what my precious friend has generously shared, bless her heart) but mainly it is because it seems to have the opposite effect now. I find that it calms my anxiety (which is happening less frequently these days! Yay!)but afterwards I either get extremely depressed or fly into a rage. No thank you to both of those.
I have had a left temple/eyeball migraine for the last 4 nights. It plays peek-a-boo and lends itself to insomnia, even after taking Melatonin. I think the culprit was the Pepsi I drank 4 nights ago (caffeine is a huge negative for me).
Walking has become a more frequent event, though I usually walk like a snail. Hey, at least I'm out there again. ;) I've been writing a lot more also. Blogging is fun, but for me, nothing beats good old fashioned journaling.
Life is unfolding as it is supposed to. I am hedged in. I am loved. I love. Music is bliss. Creation is marvelous. I am blessed.
I know that Fibromyalgia, chronic fatigue, these viral infections, and all the other conditions are going to take lots of work to manage. I know that I have to take it day by day and that I do have extreme limitations, but I also know this....
God is good and He is love.
That's all I need to know.
xoxo
Saturday, February 25, 2012
Tuesday, February 21, 2012
Precious
So here’s what I want you to do, God helping you: Take your everyday, ordinary life—your sleeping, eating, going-to-work, and walking-around life—and place it before God as an offering. Embracing what God does for you is the best thing you can do for him. Don’t become so well-adjusted to your culture that you fit into it without even thinking. Instead, fix your attention on God. You’ll be changed from the inside out. Readily recognize what he wants from you, and quickly respond to it. Unlike the culture around you, always dragging you down to its level of immaturity, God brings the best out of you, develops well-formed maturity in you. Romans 12:1-2
Yesterday I had some energy (praise the Lord!)for once and I stood there marveling at the difference. With chronic fatigue it feels like living is done underwater 24;7. Case in point, I showered immediately after taking the first batch of medication when I woke up today. I once did this everyday but now it's quite the task. I feel so drained after a simple shower! My revelation is this: sleep is precious. Energy is precious. When I have it it feels like it's a super special day because I get to feel alert, feel alive, feel a part of this world again. The lure of having energy is that it begs to be used up and I often times find myself depleting almost as soon as my body allows some activity.
It's tricky finding a balance. It's hard to slow down when it feels that the key to freedom has been placed in my lap for an afternoon. However, I have realized that my body's natural alarm clock is what I need to adhere to versus one of those annoying, buzzing alarm clocks that interrupt the flow of my body's needs.
It needs rest. It needs sleep. A dear friend said "sleep is medicine." I want to start looking at it that way, instead of "sleep is a waste of time." Aren't I worth it? Aren't I worth taking care of the way I urge fellow sickies to rest? And I mean "real" rest. With sensory overload at all hours of the day, rest does not occur when I watch television or read books. That's a type of recreational rest, but I mean rest in the sense of closing exhausted eyeballs and leaning weary limbs against the chest of my Savior. Being replenished in His peace and stillness. That is mine for the taking, and unfortunately in this day of social media and technology the draw to sitting at His feet is buried beneath Facebook comments and the pull to be connected all of the time to everyone.
Yesterday I was going through the journals that were spared during the "great bonfire burn" of 2007 ;) and I stumbled upon this:
PHOTO HAS BEEN REMOVED.
Wow! I mean, I know I had symptoms as early as 2007 but it was kind of a trip to see it again. It was also a treat to re-read some goals and dreams I carried even 10 years ago. It's ironic but the other day I suddenly had the urge to buy yellow paint. Now, I am not an artist by any means. My ability goes as far as stick figures and even that is iffy business. But this urge, this desire to just get a canvas and go crazy came alive. Yesterday I saw the breathings of my heart scattered on loose sheets of paper and I found a page from 2002 (I was 22) that mentioned learning to paint. What?! I do not remember this. I also have an entry from 2007, sometime after my baby niece and nephew were born, saying that I would like to live in NC one day. How weird!!!! I remember emphatically stating that I would never live here, that my life was in CA. Ha! It reminds me so much that God knows the desires of our hearts even more then I ever could because He put them there. It makes me smile.
Add to that, my friend found some photos I apparently posted on some website between 2006-2008. For some reason I have no recollection of this at all and there are about 100 or so albums with sweet, sweet memories. I thought it would be painful to see them. Reminders of a past that I often times miss, but instead it felt like more of my hurt was being binded. In those photos I saw joy and life and it reminded me of who I am.
On a bad day I want to hide from the world. I want to become a recluse and stop trying. The exhaustion is too much, the pain is too much, I feel overwhelmed with people, giving counsel and receiving counsel, trying.
But a better day comes again and I remember....
I remember purpose. I remember vision. I remember:
"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden." (Matthew 5:14)
and
"If with heart and soul you're doing good, do you think you can be stopped? Even if you suffer for it, you're still better off. Don't give the opposition a second thought. Through thick and thin, keep your hearts at attention, in adoration before Christ, your Master. Be ready to speak up and tell anyone who asks why you're living the way you are, and always with the utmost courtesy. Keep a clear conscience before God so that when people throw mud at you, none of it will stick. They'll end up realizing that they're the ones who need a bath. It's better to suffer for doing good, if that's what God wants, than to be punished for doing bad. That's what Christ did definitively: suffered because of others' sins, the Righteous One for the unrighteous ones. He went through it all—was put to death and then made alive—to bring us to God." (1 Peter 3:13-18)
I remember my call. The higher call.
I'm not sure how I feel about Facebook. A part of me thinks it's evil and should be avoided at all costs. In my life anyway. Where I am at in life right now anyway. The other part of me knows what a valuable tool it has been these years, and rediscovering a part of myself still "alive" on the internet on that picture website last night was quite pleasing, to tell the truth.
It brought back who I am beneath this trial. It reminded me that the plans and the purposes God has for me are still in motion....
even when I have a bad day or two. ;)
Yesterday I had some energy (praise the Lord!)for once and I stood there marveling at the difference. With chronic fatigue it feels like living is done underwater 24;7. Case in point, I showered immediately after taking the first batch of medication when I woke up today. I once did this everyday but now it's quite the task. I feel so drained after a simple shower! My revelation is this: sleep is precious. Energy is precious. When I have it it feels like it's a super special day because I get to feel alert, feel alive, feel a part of this world again. The lure of having energy is that it begs to be used up and I often times find myself depleting almost as soon as my body allows some activity.
It's tricky finding a balance. It's hard to slow down when it feels that the key to freedom has been placed in my lap for an afternoon. However, I have realized that my body's natural alarm clock is what I need to adhere to versus one of those annoying, buzzing alarm clocks that interrupt the flow of my body's needs.
It needs rest. It needs sleep. A dear friend said "sleep is medicine." I want to start looking at it that way, instead of "sleep is a waste of time." Aren't I worth it? Aren't I worth taking care of the way I urge fellow sickies to rest? And I mean "real" rest. With sensory overload at all hours of the day, rest does not occur when I watch television or read books. That's a type of recreational rest, but I mean rest in the sense of closing exhausted eyeballs and leaning weary limbs against the chest of my Savior. Being replenished in His peace and stillness. That is mine for the taking, and unfortunately in this day of social media and technology the draw to sitting at His feet is buried beneath Facebook comments and the pull to be connected all of the time to everyone.
Yesterday I was going through the journals that were spared during the "great bonfire burn" of 2007 ;) and I stumbled upon this:
PHOTO HAS BEEN REMOVED.
Wow! I mean, I know I had symptoms as early as 2007 but it was kind of a trip to see it again. It was also a treat to re-read some goals and dreams I carried even 10 years ago. It's ironic but the other day I suddenly had the urge to buy yellow paint. Now, I am not an artist by any means. My ability goes as far as stick figures and even that is iffy business. But this urge, this desire to just get a canvas and go crazy came alive. Yesterday I saw the breathings of my heart scattered on loose sheets of paper and I found a page from 2002 (I was 22) that mentioned learning to paint. What?! I do not remember this. I also have an entry from 2007, sometime after my baby niece and nephew were born, saying that I would like to live in NC one day. How weird!!!! I remember emphatically stating that I would never live here, that my life was in CA. Ha! It reminds me so much that God knows the desires of our hearts even more then I ever could because He put them there. It makes me smile.
Add to that, my friend found some photos I apparently posted on some website between 2006-2008. For some reason I have no recollection of this at all and there are about 100 or so albums with sweet, sweet memories. I thought it would be painful to see them. Reminders of a past that I often times miss, but instead it felt like more of my hurt was being binded. In those photos I saw joy and life and it reminded me of who I am.
On a bad day I want to hide from the world. I want to become a recluse and stop trying. The exhaustion is too much, the pain is too much, I feel overwhelmed with people, giving counsel and receiving counsel, trying.
But a better day comes again and I remember....
I remember purpose. I remember vision. I remember:
"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden." (Matthew 5:14)
and
"If with heart and soul you're doing good, do you think you can be stopped? Even if you suffer for it, you're still better off. Don't give the opposition a second thought. Through thick and thin, keep your hearts at attention, in adoration before Christ, your Master. Be ready to speak up and tell anyone who asks why you're living the way you are, and always with the utmost courtesy. Keep a clear conscience before God so that when people throw mud at you, none of it will stick. They'll end up realizing that they're the ones who need a bath. It's better to suffer for doing good, if that's what God wants, than to be punished for doing bad. That's what Christ did definitively: suffered because of others' sins, the Righteous One for the unrighteous ones. He went through it all—was put to death and then made alive—to bring us to God." (1 Peter 3:13-18)
I remember my call. The higher call.
I'm not sure how I feel about Facebook. A part of me thinks it's evil and should be avoided at all costs. In my life anyway. Where I am at in life right now anyway. The other part of me knows what a valuable tool it has been these years, and rediscovering a part of myself still "alive" on the internet on that picture website last night was quite pleasing, to tell the truth.
It brought back who I am beneath this trial. It reminded me that the plans and the purposes God has for me are still in motion....
even when I have a bad day or two. ;)
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