Purge

purge

pərj/

verb

1. 1.

   rid (someone) of an unwanted feeling, memory, or condition, typically giving a sense of cathartic release.

   "Bob had helped purge Martha of the terrible guilt that had haunted her"

   synonyms:

   cleanse, clear, purify, wash, shrive, absolve I'm in this season where God is having me pay super attention to what I am intaking, whether it be emotional, physical, mental, or spiritual. There are some long standing habits that need to be replaced, and I am excited to head into this new area that He is leading me onto. The last two days I have spent time going through my belongings and getting rid of things I haven't used in a long time, or things that I simply don't need. I remember a time when I had an entire storage filled with my Barbie and doll collection, as well as numerous other knick knacks. Eventually I downsized to a smaller storage space, then donated a bunch when I moved into a different place, and another big purge before the move cross country. And now, it feels amazing to fill up bag after bag. There is a juicy freedom in not being tied down to possessions. The thing is, it's not necessarily about the stuff. It's more about the heart response, the memory and refreshment in remembering who God has called me to be, and where He wants to bring me in the spirit. It's definitely not about a list of do's and don'ts, or an attempt to be super spiritual. ;) That's just not how Jesus operates. Grace is free, and nothing I do will ever make Him love me any more or any less. It's almost as if I took a detour on that path to simplicity God was calling me to in 2009. Fibromyalgia took up every bit of my time, and it was all I could think or talk about. Other goals and dreams were immediately put on hold, and that call to live a more minimalist lifestyle fell to the wayside. It wasn't until very recently, when I found myself falling into old habits of buying magazines (sidebar: God told me to give up reading my guilty pleasure rag mag every week... something I enjoy immensely, but felt the stir in my spirit... I wasn't convinced until I heard the still small voice: "it's none of your business." I stopped that very day. Again, not in some super religious display. This is about what God is asking ME to do. MY convictions, not anyone else's. This also goes for my social media diet as well. There are some areas where He is asking me to silence the static and spend more time cultivating the things of heaven rather than the things that entangle me here on earth.) and dvds and whatnot, that I realized that I was looking to be fulfilled with those distractions instead of with God. Binge eating had been conquered, but I was binging in other ways. The call He placed on my life all those years ago- to give up certain television shows, to live simply, to live for HIM, to ask for my spiritual eyes to be opened so wide, etc. all came rushing back, confirmed in daily devotionals, watching Everyday Living on the daily, scripture, and listening to sermons online. This is such a healing season in my soul. I am in no way cured. I am in no way better than anyone else who is struggling through Fibromyalgia. I do not have some miracle potion to make it all better. I very much still go through pain 24/7 and the fatigue is still very rude. But.... I think back to a time when I had to take anti-anxiety medication every single time I went anywhere, or if I interacted with people. When I kept my eyes down, and was afraid to drive anywhere alone. I remember when I could go out maybe once, and it would take me the rest of the month to recover. Those days of bottomless depression as I cycled through the grieving process over and over, when taking a shower was extremely exhausting and the biggest chore of the day. I used to cry every single day. I could barely function. Over time I have been able to eliminate certain medications and supplements, though I still take a lot throughout the day. I am no longer on pain medication and haven't been for the last 5 months. I juice every day and that has been extremely fundamental in the improvement of my symptoms. Many of the side conditions of Fibromyalgia seem to be in some kind of remission. Not the Fibro symptoms, which are just as intense as ever, but the other illnesses that plagued me all at once, in that intense physical assault between 2009-2013. The constant, back to back infections and new diagnosis'. Just the other day I went to a city an hour away- which is 2 one hour car rides, braved a big mall- walking from one end to the other, which is no easy feat! I most definitely had stabbing pain in my heels and legs, abdomen and back midway, but I did it! And emotionally I feel so centered and so... well, me. I still have moods, but like a normal person. The deep well of anger and resentment is gone, and I no longer feel like I'm waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I write all this knowing that at any moment I may have a bad mood, or a bad Fibro/fatigue day, but that it no longer dictates WHO I am. It does not consume me. I have begun to live again. Doing basic chores is a precious gift every day. I still ask for help when I need it, but my independence is coming back more and more as each day passes. My spirit of adventure, my ability to roll with the punches... all of it is being deposited back into my soul and I can't believe that I am the same woman who once felt so hopeless and could barely function. A huge thing is that I limit my time with other people. I rest a lot. I don't put myself in situations where I know I am going to be stressed, unless I absolutely have to. I don't let people guilt trip me into socializing anymore. I stopped forcing myself to be who everyone else wants me to be. I stopped worrying so much about pleasing other people, and focus more on what I need to do in order to get through life. It sounds so terribly trite, but I assure you, dear reader, it is a constant concentration on self-discipline and it took forever and 5 days to reach this stage! Yesterday in the purging/cleaning process I got out this small blue suitcase that held all of the medical paperwork from the last 5 years. I have one slim file folder with the most important papers, but this suitcase was stuffed full. Suddenly I started tearing those pages up! It felt GREAT! It was sticking my finger up at all the doctors who treated me like I was crazy, it was letting go of all the lies and bondage that people had spoken over me in my season of weakness, it was acknowledging that I am not bound to my illness, or to the darkness of the past 5 years. Every outpatient surgery, every procedure, physical therapy, psych evaluations, prescriptions, gads of appointments... all of it- I let it go. Because life is about right now. Today. Yes, those things happened to me. Yes, it broke me. Yes, I went through depression. Yes, I wanted to not exist. Yes, I am still sick. Yes, it's still hard to not be able to do certain things... but the difference is that I feel like I am heading towards a lifestyle where those things might be possible again! HOPE. That was missing those bleak years. Grief is necessary when illness comes. I had to lose myself in order to be loved back to emotional health by my Jesus. In that brokenness so much of my ugliness rose to the surface, and had to be dealt with. There is no easy process, no quick way to accept the chronically ill lifestyle. It takes time, and coming apart to be put back together. It is different for everyone, but the reality that being ill SUCKS is true all across the board. I don't feel like I have mastered Fibromyalgia. I have not. But I have come out on the other side, and it's pretty wonderful after the years of circling the same wilderness. Life is possible again after getting sick. It's a moderate, boundary filled life, but it is LIFE. For God has not given us a spirit of fear and timidity, but of power, love, and self-discipline. 2 Timothy 1:7 There is so much freedom in accepting my condition, and loving myself, and asking God to let me see myself the way He sees me, and immediately dismissing anyone who speaks death over me. This season is about ridding of toxins. The pollution in my thought life, emotional life, physical life and spiritual life. Purging has been cleansing and healing. I am so thankful for everything I have gone through. It has led me here, and as horrible as it all was, it taught me so much about what really matters in this life. Fibromyalgia has been a blessing... throughout the unbearable pain, and the relentless fatigue, I have been reborn and remade. I am a new creation! How fantastic is that? God is so good.

Goodbye Heavy Burden

I look at photos of myself and realize how very overweight I actually was. I didn't grasp just how much until I compared a photo from last August to now.

Nine months. 

35lbs. lighter and still working to get to my ultimate goal weight range. 

It's pretty incredulous. 

I think about my secret binge eating nights, the times I ate so much that I threw up (not on purpose), the depression that weighed on my soul, and pun intended- on my physical body. I did not like my reflection. I did not like myself. 

I blamed myself for being sick. I didn't care about most things. All I felt was misery and grief and the worry of carrying the burden of illness for the rest of my life. Joy was stifled, but would escape sometimes, small reminders of who I am in Christ and who I am meant to be. Definitely not the broken, sad, scared, angry girl I regressed to in my pain.

I could not conquer the sugar addiction. Everyday I told myself I would stop. That I would starve the candida and not give in. And everyday I failed. I could not do it alone. I cried out to the Lord who hears my every prayer- spoken or unspoken. I asked the Holy Spirit to take over. I invited Him into that misery, the addictions and the heartbreak. I released my control... Or lack thereof. 

And He has responded. Immediately, completely, lovingly. 

I no longer binge. I no longer hate myself. 

I walk in freedom, and somehow this freedom is even grander then the freedom I had when I first came to accept His grace years ago. 

It is MORE. 

His generosity, His mercy, His tenderness, His forgiveness... It has been so vast. The last 4-5 years were horrible, and while there were moments of gleaned hope and happiness, I truly did want to die. Not to kill myself, but just not exist. Not this way. Not sick, dependent on everyone, constantly miserable in body and in spirit.

And that is why the freedom is so sweet. 

When the spirit is clogged and polluted with negativity, self hate, judgment... There is no freedom. Everyday is comparison and feeling like a failure, and not wanting to even try to keep up. The spiritual toxins are real and very damaging. 

I lost myself more then I ever have in my life. 

I went through the motions and smiled sometimes, and desperately looked for ways to keep on going... But my oh my, I was so lost. 

And knowing Jesus, but feeling so lost is confusing. Because knowing Him usually means that I never feel lost, except I did. My center was gone. In it's place was anxiety and apathy and hatred. I felt like the joy I once walked in must have left forever, must have been a fluke. I had memories of being that girl, but I no longer felt like her. 

I compared myself to the celebrities on tv. I put down others because I felt so insecure in my skin. I was THE worst version of myself that I have ever been.

And I hated it so much. But now I am so grateful... Truly in my brokenness, truly in my weakness, in losing myself completely... I was once again found. 

Not only was everything physically stripped away, but emotionally too. Everything I believed about myself. Every achievement knocked away. Every good thing in my soul disappeared.

For 4 long years.

And it was so necessary. 

Because now I know how swiftly life can change. I know loss in a more profound, gritty way. I know that God IS and always will be a restorer of broken dreams, my healer, my friend, my everything. I know that depression is deep and black and very unkind. I know that shall the tides change again, He is truly my rock. 

All things I knew to some extent before. I wasn't without loss or hardship. I thought I had that lesson down on lock and would never have to learn it again. 

Wrong!

Jesus has healed my depression, my secret eating disorder, my weight problem, my anxiety. I no longer feel overwhelmed and dismayed making my monthly lists of meds and needs. I no longer feel obligated to people. He has restored my soul. He has given me yet another life. My joy is so much! My pleasure in life revitalized and natural and flowing. More than I ever dreamed! More than even before Fibro! He has revealed the depths of His love. It is limitless. In my anger I sure did sin. I was so mad at myself and at the world and sometimes even at God. No spiritual airs here and I hope to never have them again, because spiritual airs are ugly. They say to the world that we don't need grace because we have it all together. Lies. And the enemy gets in and sets up camp in that arrogance. 

It makes me shudder to think of how I used to bounce around in ministry and feel so pleased with MY church, and my accomplishments, all the while thinking I was humble. 

It all goes away. ALL of it. 

What matters is grace. Love. Mercy. Kindness. Forgiveness. Gentleness. Self-control. JESUS. 

It's all about Jesus. 

In the sweet, sweet times of life, but also in the ugly. When we want to rip out our hair, stomp our feet, beat our fists to the ground. In the pain and suffering, in our unholy moments... 

Jesus. 

Not our church attendance, our ministry, our missions trip, our good deeds, our daily time in scripture, our jobs and motherhood and relationships, not our cars or awards... All swell things, but all utterly temporary. 

It's got to get in bone deep, into the very secret place that only Abba can reach. 

The whispered roar of the Savior of the world. 

JESUS.

Sometimes healing is just a trickle at a time, until He bursts forth and pours like a flood: happy rain falls like unicorns and rainbows, from the forehead to the inside of every organ, and down to the toes! How marvelous is that?! 

This weight loss is a victory and it is so important to me. Physically, of course. It's nice to fit in clothes I haven't worn in years. I like being able to move easier and having my joints ache less. But mostly it is a victory because the shedding of pounds symbolizes the shedding of that heavy brokenness. A heavy body for a heavy heart. And when I look in the mirror now, I am reminded of how far God has brought me on this Fibro journey. I understand that the worst of it is over, and I can live now. Really live again! Live with Fibro even. I think about His love. I think about His sense of humor and the special ways He loves each of us. 

I haven't felt like me in so long and at first I was hesitant to trust it. I thought it was just a good emotional day, then two... 

But I have stopped being weary of it because I know that I am me again. 

A different version. An upgraded, Jesus 2014 version. And it feels amazing. So much so. 

I pray to always be upgraded. To stay stagnant is death. To not seek Him is death. To think I have it all figured out is death. 

I still have Fibro, but I now have my center. 

I am free. 

All praise to the One who made me. And all thanks to those who have loved me at my worst. You know who you are. I can never repay the grace you have each given me. No judgment as I walked in the darkness, just continued love and prayer and support. I just want to kiss every one of you! Thank you so much. 

I will always be so grateful for the mercies you have bestowed on me during the hardest trial of my life this far. 

Love,

Janet 💛

Happy Soul

O Lord, my God, I called to you for help and you healed me.

                                        Psalm 30:2

As I read these words today, a fresh revelation shouts in my spirit. Truth be told, when I think of healing, I mainly think of the physical. I'm not sure why, considering that Abba has healed me so much emotionally in the past. But today, I read those words. I speak them out loud, I realize that this whole time, I have wondered why oh why Abba has allowed me to to still endure Fibromyalgia when He doesn't desire me to be sick, and when He has the power to make me well at any moment. There was a particularly harrowing season when I wondered in prayer if He had forgotten me. I knew deep down that He had not, and yet my emotions were all over the place and it seemed as though His favor was everywhere but on me. The shame and guilt at being sick only deepened that sense of being far away from Him. Still I clung, desperate and just barely. 

Today, I read those words and I understand. I understand! My body is sick, but so was my soul. In fact, it was very sick. Perhaps even more so then the myriad of ailments that course through my body. All of the insecurity, doubt, anger, fear- ALL of the ugliness inside of me was shaken loose and rose to the surface. All of those toxic emotions that have revealed themselves over the last 4 years have resulted in this serene peace that has only recently swaddled me. He has, once again, healed my soul. My heart sings with abandon, and the shame that tinged my every moment, has been broken off like chains being ripped from my entire body, only because the Healer has healed the emotional sickness that pervaded my very heart. 

I am not the woman I was before Fibromyalgia, and I am not the woman I was the last 4-5 years. I am NOW. I carry peace and joy, light and life. My heart very literally feels at rest. I am secure in my vessel. I love myself again. I honestly wondered if I ever would. 

The knowledge fills me with a gratitude that also feels like surprise. 

What perfect, beautiful timing our Savior has! It's almost my birthday, and what better gift then to carry this treasure into this next year of life. 

God, surely you are good ALL of the time. Through every storm of the soul you have carried me. You are so merciful. I love you so much and I praise you! Had you not healed me, you would still be good, and yet, you CHOSE to heal me. You didn't let the depression overtake me- though it very nearly did. You didn't let me saturate in the grief and anger, though many moments felt like I would never escape it. Your affection is the sweetest thing I've ever known. I am in awe and feel so loved by you.

Life is not always peaches and cream, and still you rise in the muddiest of places, and reveal the light of your mercy time and time again. 

May I never waste this gift you've given me- the sweetness of being found in you once again. I pray that you never stop healing my heart when it breaks, when it is burdened, when life overwhelms and circumstances scream loud. Your grace IS sufficient, and you are so gracious with those you love. Though my body is still in sickness, you have unfettered my spirit. I cannot thank you enough.

I love you. I really, really love you. 

This chapter means more to me then it ever has before. Thank you that your Word is always fresh. 

Psalm 30

I will exalt you, O Lord, for you have lifted me out of the depths and did not let my enemies gloat over me. O Lord my God, I called to you for help and you healed me. O Lord, you brought me up from the grave, you spared me from going down into the pit. 

Sing to the Lord, you saints of his; praise his holy name. For his anger lasts only a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime; weeping may remain for a night, but rejoicing comes in the morning. 

When I felt secure, I said, "I will never be shaken." O Lord, when you favored me, you made my mountain stand firm; but when you hid your face, I was dismayed. 

To you, O Lord, I called; to the Lord I cried for mercy: "What gain is there in my destruction, in my going down into the pit? Will the dust praise you? Will it proclaim your faithfulness? Hear, O Lord, and be merciful to me; O Lord, be my help."

You turned my wailing into dancing; you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy, that my heart may sing to you and not be silent. O Lord, my God, I will give thanks forever. 

Amen. 

Sleep

Today, I can finally fit into a tee shirt I ordered in 2011. Because of the candida gut, it was way too tight, and now that the inches have been peeling off with feverish intensity, many clothes I haven't worn in years are now becoming available to wear! It sounds superficial, but it is a huge accomplishment! It means that the candida is becoming managed and hopefully eradicated, and that means one less health issue compromising my immune system. Plus, let's just get real: it feels awesome to lose weight. ;)

When I got to the worst point of this illness, my quality of living was about 10%. I barely struggled though each day, taking care of Mylie and trying to do basic things for myself. That went to about 20% after I moved to NC and started to really face the stages of grief, and learn how to rest without guilt and say no to most activities. I had seasons where I could ride my bike regularly, or walk around the block, but mostly I was still majorly just trying to endure every day. Now, after a mere 4 months of juicing, my quality of living has gone to about 50%! This gives me GREAT hope. I very obviously cannot control my illness. There are some days where the pain and fatigue are at screeching monkey levels, and I must pay heed to that, however, I am quite excited that so much has progressed when it comes to going out and doing simple errands, recovering faster after engaging in activities, and the weight loss. 

Lately I have been struggling with insomnia and migraines, but last night I actually slept for hours, only waking up once versus every hour, and having NO night sweats! Getting adequate sleep is so marvelous and doesn't always happen, so I feel incredibly grateful today. 

God has been so gracious to me. There is one severe stress trigger that I have identified in recent weeks, and I am doing my very best to limit my exposure to it. It's not always easy, but I am so determined to protect my mind and body, and keep on working towards my wellness. 

I always say this, and it's because I feel it is necessary: If you are reading this blog for the first time, or if you have for awhile now, I want to state emphatically: there is NO cure. There is no quick fix. There is no special thing that I am doing that puts me above everyone else suffering from Fibromyalgia. There is only the desire to have a functional lifestyle, the urgent prayers whispered to Jesus, the drive to manage MY body the best that I can. I advocate juicing, but I don't claim that it has made me 100% better. I advocate exercise, but it's not always possible. I advocate eliminating stress. I advocate allowing ourselves to feel- really feel. The good stuff, but the bad stuff too. There's a lot of gold in the bad stuff. I advocate researching Fibromyalgia for ourselves and not trusting every single thing we read. This is a very personal illness, and as we have all read before, there is no one size fits all tactic to start living well again. Many times it feels like banging our heads against a wall, and discouragement can swallow us like a whale. 

So, today, I am thankful for sleep. I am happy that it's my birth month, and I am pleased as punch that life only gets more beautiful as each day passes. 

I wish this for you- whoever you are. May your journey be beautiful, even when it feels dry and hopeless. 

I'm living proof that there is always another good day around the corner. 

<3

SO accurate. 

"Acquiring a disability is a bit like getting home to find there’s a gorilla in your house. You contact the approved and official channels to get rid of infestations of wild animals (in this case, the NHS) and they umm and aah and suck air in through their teeth before saying something roughly equivalent to “what you’ve got ‘ere, mate, is a gorilla, and there ain’t really a lot what we can do about them, see…” before sending you back home to the gorilla’s waiting arms.

The gorilla in your house will cause problems in every part of your life. Your spouse may decide that (s)he can’t deal with the gorilla, and leave. Your boss may get upset that you’ve brought the gorilla to work with you and it’s disrupting your colleagues, who don’t know how to deal with gorillas. You’re arriving for work wearing a suit the gorilla has slept on. Some days you don’t turn up at all because at the last minute, the gorilla has decided to barricade you into the bathroom or sit on you so you can’t get out of bed. Your friends will get cheesed off because when you see them - which isn’t often, because they don’t want to come to your house for fear of the gorilla and the gorilla won’t always let you out - your only topic of conversation is this darn gorilla and the devastation it is causing.

There are three major approaches to the gorilla in your house.

One is to ignore it and hope it goes away. This is unlikely to work. A 300-lb gorilla will sleep where he likes, and if that’s on top of you, it will have an effect on you.

Another is to try and force the gorilla out, wrestling constantly with it, spending all your time fighting it. This is often a losing battle. Some choose to give all their money to people who will come and wave crystals at the gorilla, from a safe distance of course. This also tends to be a losing battle. However, every so often, one in a hundred gorillas will get bored and wander off. The crystal-wavers and gorilla-wrestlers will claim victory, and tell the media that it’s a massive breakthrough in gorilla-control, and that the 99 other gorilla-wrestlers just aren’t doing it right due to sloppy thinking or lack of committment. The 99 other gorilla-wrestlers won’t have the time or energy to argue.

I have known people spend the best years of their life and tens of thousands of pounds trying to force their gorillas to go away. The tragedy is that even if it does wander off for a while, they won’t get their pre-gorilla lives back. They’ll be older, skint, exhausted, and constantly afraid that the gorilla may well come back.

The third way to deal with the gorilla in your house is to accept it, tame it, and make it part of your life. Figure out a way to calm your gorilla down. Teach it how to sit still until you are able to take it places with you without it making a scene. Find out how to equip your home with gorilla-friendly furnishings and appliances. Negotiate with your boss about ways to accomodate, or even make use of, your gorilla. Meet other people who live with gorillas and enjoy having something in common, and share gorilla-taming tips.

People get really upset about this and throw around accusations of “giving up” and “not even trying”. They even suggest that you enjoy having a gorilla around because of the attention it gets you (while ignoring the massive pile of steaming gorilla-turds in your bedroom every morning and night, not to mention your weekly bill for bananas). The best way to deal with these people is to smile and remind yourself that one day, they too will have a gorilla in their house.”

-Unknown

My Body

Today, in a fit of extreme gratitude, I impulsively kissed my arms like I would a child, and cradled myself. All I could do was speak thanks to this vessel that is burdened everyday, but treks on regardless. Over these last 5 years I have spent more time being angry at my body then I ever have in my life. I have hated it, wished for a different one, felt resentful at the sickness that changed everything. But along the way, I stopped hating it. I started to realize how strong it really is, and how courageous. How it allows me eyes to see, ears to hear, legs to walk and dance and play (albeit with repercussions, but I still have the ability), a voice to speak, arms to open books and hug people, and all of the mysterious inner workings that are not visible to the eye.

I started to really love it. 

During the really dark seasons of this journey, when the depression engulfed me and anger was my best friend, I gained a lot of weight and grew to be the heaviest I'd ever been. The secret life I had of binge eating- sometimes 2-3 bags of candy a night, hiding food, and hating myself, was a cycle I could not escape. No one knew about my self-loathing, or if they did, they did not know how deep that self-hatred went. How could they when I didn't even know? Like most things, I did not realize what I had until it was gone, and what I had was a thick wall of sadness and self blame for being ill. I felt like I was a failure, that I would never be functional in any capacity again. I took all of the judgment cast on me from those who refused to accept the new me-  the me in transition, as I struggled through the stages of grief on an endless loop- and the judgment I placed on myself, and I just sank. I sank so far down into the depths of endless blue of the mind. I could not, for the life of me, get out.

There was no one moment that brought me clarity and acceptance, and I've learned that acceptance is actually quite fickle. It would be dishonest to say that I never have moments of anger or sadness anymore. My moods are sometimes contingent with how much pain I am in, or how severe the exhaustion is, just like a healthy person. When we are sick with a cold, or tired from a long day at work, sometimes we may be grumpy. A healthy person has moments of feeling blue, even if they are regularly a joyful person. And that is where I am at. All of the moments over the last few years, each tearful prayer, each time I sat in silence before God- stubborn and resentful or heartbroken, each friend who spoke encouragement and life, each book or movie or quote that lifted my soul, each new victory (moving away, rediscovering who I am aside from daughter, friend, sister, aunt, niece, cousin, mentor, nanny, conquering the sugar addiction, losing weight, traveling, riding the bike, juicing, and everything else), each gentle moment... they all strung together and gave me my life back.

It took long enough.

I say that in jest, but there is also a grain of truth in it. The process wasn't pretty. All of the worst parts of myself taunted me on a daily basis. I could access the joy deposited in me by the Holy Spirit, I could find happiness in some incredible moments, I could laugh and smile and talk with people, but I couldn't hold on to the peace. It would slip away and I would fall backwards; down, down, down into the rabbit hole of self loathing and desperation. I said and did things as if I were someone else. I was someone else. 

A transitional version of the self is still the self... except it also isn't. How could one be an anchor when everything has been dismantled and they have no idea who they are, what to do, how to be?

That's how sickness is. It comes in and turns everything upside down, and then it sets up camp. It gets comfortable: a vine twisting through the soul, choking off every sweet and wonderful thing. It terrorizes, both physically and mentally. And in that, we must choose: give in or fight and so I fought- sometimes against my own self.

I felt worthless, hopeless, drained, entirely ill, and unnecessary. I begged to not live this way. I strained to hold on to each pleasant moment, desperate for it to carry me through until the next moment. The darkness suffocated and stole until one day it didn't anymore. And it was simply just the moments. The invisible, dot by dot, choosing life, choosing to try, choosing to trust God moments. The waking up everyday, the taking a shower, the talking it out, the praying, the being honest even in the face of accusations, the determination to live anyway.

When I was younger, I prided myself on being strong. Physically and emotionally. I lost a baby and marched on,  I broke my ankle and went in to work the next day, I had a precancer scare and kept on,  I got tendinitis in my dominant wrist and continued to work anyway. I could make that choice. I was emotionally sound and all of those things were temporary... but Fibromyalgia? This is not temporary. This shook everything loose. There could be no pride, there could be no ignoring it (though I tried for 2 years), there could be no easy fix. No, there had to be the moments.

All of that self hate has become self love.

Fibromyalgia has allowed me to learn real boundaries. It has allowed me to appreciate strength- of the will, the mind, the heart, the soul, the body. It has allowed me to face the monsters in my spirit. It has allowed me a true freedom in learning to love myself- sickness and all. I am still in just as much pain and I am still as exhausted as when this journey began, but my spirit is unfettered and my heart has been unclogged for months now.

I no longer blame myself or judge myself for being sick. Sure, I have moments of discouragement (if you ever meet a Christian who says they never have doubt or pain or weakness- don't trust them. They are lying. Knowing Jesus does not make us immune to emotions, it just means we take those weaknesses and let Him work it out. To claim to never struggle is unbiblical and a great disservice to God) and anxiety is a part of the illness. There are very real physical things that happen of which we have no control over with Fibromyalgia but now that the fog has lifted, I understand the power I have in my choices.

I can choose not to participate. In activities, in stress, in conflict with contrary people, in blaming myself, in speaking death over my life, in judgment because I am not able to do what I used to, in anything and everything. I have that power. I can say no. I can live without guilt. I can have Fibromyalgia and not be defined by it.

For a long time I could not feel very kind when otherwise healthy people told me of their common colds or flu viruses. I resented them, because they were complaining but they would be better in a few days and I wouldn't be. I also felt like I had to explain my illness to everyone. I felt embarrassed and earnestly desired for everyone in my life to understand what I was going through. I felt like I owed everyone an explanation for everything. Such lies, but it was all a part of coming to understand that change is not a bad thing, and being sick is nothing to feel guilty about.

Health is a treasure, and of course I miss it. I think a part of me will always long for it. But sickness has been an unexpected treasure, too. I am much more aware of how much the human body does, All of the simple things: brushing hair, eating food, listening to sounds, how the blood flows, the organs that work together to give us one more step, one more day. I feel so very lucky that my body persists even when my emotions have wanted to let go.

Having Fibromyalgia feels like a death sentence 98% of the time, even with acceptance, even with gratitude. But it's NOT. It is so not.

It is a chance to really live. To love ourselves with the same tenderness with which we love others. To choose to be thankful, even when we don't want to be. To say instead to our battered bodies: "hey, thank you for trying today. I know you hurt so bad, I know that fatigue is blinding your senses, but you can do this, you little trooper." It is a chance to know love, and be love, and give love. It is a chance to be so full of wonder for a vessel that wears and tears, but still chooses the YES of living everyday, anyway.

There is power in acceptance, and even more power in choosing gratitude.

I wish this for you, whoever you are, reading this.

We don't have to explain. We don't have to hate ourselves. We don't have to pretend we aren't sick to make others feel better.

WE MATTER. Our feelings matter. Our process matters. Our hope matters.

We have Fibromyalgia, but it does not define everything about us, even when it feels like it does.

Thank you, sickness, for teaching me how to really love myself.

And thank you, Jesus, for loving me even when I am the worst version of myself I can ever be.

New Information for Possible Cause of Fibromyalgia

There is always some new article, tiny bits & pieces given as they try to uncover the roots of our illness. I’ve learned through the years to take it all with a grain of salt. Any information is vital and helpful, but we must still hold tight to not just jumping on any bandwagon regarding Fibromyalgia. 
Hopefully one day there will actually be something 100% accurate and they will find a cure.

http://phoenixrising.me/archives/24936

Thankful

The exhaustion slammed me a few hours ago, which is not entirely surprising considering the insomnia and pain that ransacked me last night.

Chronic fatigue is bitter and ugly. It is a thief, sucking out the weak energy in the reservoir. 

And yet...

I am so thankful. So, so thankful. A year ago I could not do basic things aside from a shower on days of pain and fatigue such as this. But today I fixed the bed, did laundry, made extremely limited small talk, juiced, washed the dishes, plus the other everyday things. And this was after talking on the phone for over an hour last night (this is still VERY exhausting and difficult to do)! It seems so trite, but these little things show progress, and gives me hope that one day I might be able to resume other things, like getting a job maybe. It's a long shot, but I feel hopeful that I can keep eliminating stressors, and figuring out how to manage my version of this illness. 

That's been a major factor: deciding to limit or eradicate one-sided relationships & toxic influences. It's been a struggle my whole life, and learning to let go of that feeling of responsibility for everyone else's emotional crisis' has been so valuable. 

Today, I am thankful for clean water. I am thankful for this bed to lay my tired body in. I am thankful for life. Abundant, beautiful life. I am thankful for family and friends, and an endless amount of grace from my Savior. I am thankful for words and for the amazing privilege of being alive one more day. 

Today is not a very good Fibro day.

I've been doing a lot lately- normal people things, and once again I "forgot" that I'm not without illness. There's a tendency to do that when feeling like tasks or activities are passable. I end up way overdoing it and reaping what I sow.

Tonight, as I sit here with rolling waves of nausea and intense back spasms, just waiting to vomit, I am so grateful that this is no longer the daily norm. Sure, being sick is. But the intensity is not as severe, and it is in these moments that I most understand just how very far I've come over the years.

It's never easy, and it doesn't stop being frustrating, but I know this will pass and I will settle into my daily sick versus this hell.

Please let that be tomorrow.

It occurs to me, only now, after time has passed and the freshness of memory is faded, that before Fibromyalgia, not being strong was never an option for me.

I considered myself to have a high pain tolerance- surely if I endured that monstrous pain of miscarriage, and getting burned on my cervix during that precancer year- then I could handle anything.

I lifted heavy boxes, moved around furniture, and was extremely active.

I never knew how much I took the use of my arms, legs, and back for granted.

I never knew that I shouldn't get irritated at people who walked slow, just because I was always in a hurry.

And that's the thing, there, really.

I was always in a hurry. 

Had I never gotten sick, I may never have known the sweetness of being still.