Taking Inventory

As the day draws to a close, I'm taking inventory of the week (plus one day) since I've been at Truth North Health Center. I would have done this yesterday, but today is the final day of my three day juice fast and the true test starts tomorrow when I begin my 30 day water fast! So, I wanted to give a general update on how I'm feeling after five days of super clean eating and three days of juice and how I'm feeling about the upcoming water fast.

Truth: I feel mostly fantastic! I have my moments where I miss my family and friends. I had a full-blown melt down last night as I said good bye to my daughter and husband and after having talked to my other three younger children as well. They'd been telling me all about their day: one had lost a tooth; one had an archery tournament; and yet another showed me an art project that had been completed. I began thinking of all that I am missing while I am not physically there with them and it became too much for a moment. My mental health otherwise, outside of the expected homesickness, has been really good. Since I've long been a sufferer of depression, I'm pleased that depression hasn't already overcome me. 

Physically I am feeling pretty well overall, too. I've had some pain in my hips and some minor lower back pain. I anticipated this might well happen as I've been weening off the Cell-Cept and the last of the steroids. However, I'm overwhelming surprised that I'm feeling as little pain as I am and it makes me hopeful. I'm very hopeful that through the course of this, I will feel the little bit of pain that I currently have continue to diminish. That is an unbelievably exciting prospect. The idea that I could potentially wake up pain free AND do so without being on any meds... Well, that's the bulk of the reason I am here. No pain means little/no progression of disease. No progression of disease means a much brighter future for me and my family. If it were just the pain, if that were the only problem with these diseases, I could continue to suck it up as I have for years. It's all of the other things this disease contributes to in my body that I just can't suck up and pretend aren't there. They'll continue to take my quality of life, but ultimately, they'll steal my quantity of life as well. 

Overall, I've done pretty well on the juice. I've felt occasional hunger pangs. While doing juice, they bring you four a day. Despite the tastiness of the juices, I have struggled to consume all four juices each day. I've averaged more like three to three a half a day. I am of course also drinking water with the juice as well. Honestly, I'm looking forward to just drinking the water because I feel less stressed about my ability to consume the water I need to consume than I do about consuming the juice AND the water! Strange, I know. I've never claimed to be normal!

I've been monitored twice daily since I've been here in addition to my two personal appointments with my personally assigned physician. My initial urine showed protein and my blood labs showed high cholesterol and triglycerides although neither was extremely high. I'm very excited to see what my first results show after being on just water. There were no other abnormalities really with my blood. My meds tend to keep most of those things under control. However, it will be cool to see how "normal" everything is after being off meds for a bit. My very first blood pressure reading after arriving here was 196/102. Not exactly great. I admit that likely was elevated from the norm due to the stress of my arrival day. However, my most recent blood pressure reading was about 150/90. So, between the calm of my surroundings, better eating, etc., I'm making great strides on my blood pressure. I should probably mention that my first reading was while I was still on my blood pressure medication. The 150/90 reading is after being here almost a week and being off my BP meds for four days. So, I'm feeling pretty good about that, too. Oh, I've also lost about ten pounds. That's a nice bonus. I won't lie. 

There's a lot to do here even though it wouldn't seem like there would be. There are lectures twice daily you can attend. I went to both lectures today and really enjoyed them. I've only been to a couple of other lectures simply because I had some migraine and sinus issues when I first arrived that prevented me from getting out much the first few days. I've taken numerous walks around the area. That's been a lot of fun. I've enjoyed the exploring aspect.  I imagine as my water fast goes on, my energy will come down some and I may not attend as many lectures until re-feeding starts. Once fasting begins, you're no longer allowed to leave the property. I've been reading as well and that's nice. It's not something I have a lot of time to do at home. I'm going to have to carve out a way to make that happen once I get back. 

That's the more boring "numbers" end of things in regards to my experience thus far. I'm hoping tomorrow I will have something a little more exciting to talk about. I might even talk some about my awesome Canadian roomie! I really just love her. I confess my immaturity takes hold every time she says "ay" or "aboot" and I struggle not to giggle. She's really nice though, and I imagine she might not smack me, but I'm trying to play it cool. Haha.

Finding my way north

I am all things southern. There is no doubt about that. Some might go so far as to call me country as a turnip green. I'm proud of being southern. I love my twang; sweet tea; my Grandmother; front porch swings; crickets chirping; church on Sundays; my silly southern sayings; and so on. For as much as I love my home state, my twang, and everything else my life encompasses in the Bible belt, turns out to get closer to my goal of true health, I had to find my way north.

True North isn't just the name of the facility where I am staying, it's a frame of mind; a state of being. My journey the last two years hasn't just been about yoga and eating right and even DDP will tell you there is more to it than that. It's also been about finding myself again amidst the struggles of my every day life: learning to react and adapt. But waking up daily in a body that has no desire to do for you what it was designed to do is a real struggle. And this journey of finding my true path to health has been an arduous one at best. Despite the every day struggles though, I have continued to crawl my way forward one millimeter at a time. Even when it appeared I was going backward, I was still moving forward because over the last two years, I have still never thrown in the towel no matter what life has thrown at me. Dallas taught me that for sure. I still haven't given up.

It should come as no surprise to anyone who knows me I'm not known as the person with the best track record of Lady Luck being on her side. So, when middle Tennessee was hit last week with a freak ice storm, meh, that was par for the course. Why wouldn't we be hit with the first ice storm in around a decade the week I'm supposed to hop a plane and fly 2000 miles further into my journey? Why wouldn't my infusion appointment get canceled because Vanderbilt clinics were closing down for the first time in, I don't know, ever. Then my flight was canceled anyway, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah... Of course there were people all over who I am sure were much more inconvenienced than I was, but in my moments of "of course the universe centers around me and my needs," it just felt like twelve more ridiculous road blocks I should not have to be dealing with. There were issues in getting flights rescheduled; issues making connecting flights when my new flight was delayed days later due to de-icing on the runway; and so on. After rising at 2:30am my time, my 22 half hour quest to make it across the country, finally came to a close last Saturday night when I arrived at 1551 Pacific Avenue Santa Rosa, CA.

My first week at True North comes to a close in just over 24 hours. It's been strange. I spent the first few days fighting off migraines and sinus congestion and jet lag. I slept a lot. I mean a lot. I've enjoyed the cleanest eating I've ever had in my life and I've enjoyed quiet. There's been a lot of quiet. Today was my first day on juice. I'll have two more days on juice and then I'll begin my fast. I'm shooting for 30 days of fasting. In my research into fasting, 30 days seems to be a fairly magical point at which the auto-immune system can potentially reset. That's what this whole leg of the journey is about: resetting that thing inside me that works so hard to keep me from moving forward.

It's a fair assessment to say I've been called crazy a time or two in my life.  A fairer assessment might be that I've been called crazy more than a few times. And I'm okay with that. There was a period in my life when I wouldn't have been okay with that; when I would have been bothered by someone's disapproval of me. I'm beyond those kinds of worries for the most part these days. I knew when I began sharing with people I was seriously considering an extended water fast the word crazy might get bandied about. And it did. And I'm okay with that, too. Now that I'm doing it, I'm sure crazy is being tossed around a bit more. What chance wouldn't you take though to get control of your body back? What place wouldn't you take yourself if you knew there was a chance you could cast out a demon that had plagued your existence for almost half of your life? What wouldn't you do? Would you take that chance or would just spend the rest of your life wondering what might have been. I've made some mistakes in my day to be sure, but there's little wondering what might have been going on between my ears. I'm pretty sure every day that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be in life. Today's one of those days.

We've all heard the often trite message regarding walking a mile in someone's shoes before judging, blah, blah, blah. The truth of the matter is that we will never be able to walk a mile in another person's shoes. The similiarity of our struggles can be of some measure in our understanding of what others have gone through, but no two people will ever go through an identical situation and have an identical understanding  or intepretation of that situation once it's come and gone. Both of their understandings will be shaded, shaped and colored by a million factors that began occurring in each of their respective lives from the moment they were born forward. For me, this leg of my journey I'm on is about two things only: discovering my true north and bringing along anyone else that I can to do the same. Welcome aboard the crazy train!

Steph's Way To Well

After much research and discussion, my husband and I have come to a decision. In mid-February, I will be going for in-patient treatment. I am excited. I am nervous. I am terrified. I am thrilled. The range of emotions I feel can't really be articulated although I'm trying. I'll be away from my children and husband and out of work for a minimum of four to six weeks. The only feeling I don't have in regards to our decision is uncertainty.

I've spent the better part of a decade chasing my tail and trying to get well. I have made forward progress; I have given up; I have started and stopped; I've made more gains; and then I've felt loss again and again. Despite the fact I am still not where I want to be a year and a half after beginning my latest journey, I am still miles ahead of where I've ever been before! I actually feel pretty good about that!

Despite the lack of forward progress I would like to have seen to this point regarding weight loss, general health, etc. since I began this, my final journey toward good health inspired by a couple of guys named Arthur and Dallas, there is one very real thing that hasn't happened that has always happened before. I still have refused to give up. Even in every moment that I appear to be failing, I am consciously aware of every aspect of my health and how everything I am doing is affecting my health. While that sometimes leads to some guilt, it also keeps me ever cognizant of new and different choices and, most importantly, the ability to be open to new ideas that could lead to my ultimate goal of good health.

I'm going to work on getting back into the blog every now and then before I go to treatment in February. I also plan to blog the journey through my residential treatment program. 

In preparation for my trip, I have begun a t-shirt campaign through Teespring! I am hoping to help raise funds to help defray my medical expenses since insurance will not pay for a 30 day residential stay that will cost about the same or less than one of my infusions that I have to have every five weeks. For the foreseeable future. Maybe even the rest of my life. I'm unclear on how it makes sense to continue paying for infusions but not residential that could negate the future need thereof. But, I digress. So, just in case you are interested, I'll share the link. Get yourself a cool shirt. Or not. But feel free to share the link! 

http://teespring.com/stephswaytowell

Have a good night. I'll see you soon!

Full Circle



It's been nine and a half months since I began a new chapter in my life.  I'd be lying if I said it's been easy and I've been able to breeze right through it.  It just ain't so.  It's been a lot of hard work and frustration in the process.  What I can so though is this: Even though I'm not where I want to be yet, it's so worth it!  I am making my way full circle on this journey and happily learning I'm not as broken as I thought I was.

 

 

Cracking 4K

It’s not some weird alternative to a Color Run or your average 5K! I cracked 4000 views on my blog night before last! The word excited immediately comes to mind, but doesn’t quite seem to capture it. I’m literally on a strange high right now. Maybe it’s all of the exercise the last few days, I don’t know, but I like it! I feel like I did back in January when I started this whole gig with DDPYOGA! In case you were wondering: It’s awesome to feel this way!

As I reflect back on the last eight and a half months, I feel truly blessed, humbled, and so lucky. I have learned a lot about myself over the course of the last several months, but I think I’m really just now starting to grasp what I’m truly capable of once I set my mind to something. I don’t think I’ve ever truly understood how strong I could be until now.

My hiatus the last couple of months was brought on not of my own devices. I wouldn’t have chosen it, but, in a way, I am glad it happened. Such happiness might seem unwarranted given my meager state the last few months. However, there is logic behind the seeming madness of being happy about what I’ve recently been tangling with. It follows if you will follow with me.

When I have had significant flares in the past with my Psoriatic Arthritis, it has sometimes taken me six months or better to recuperate. ANY effort I had put into getting healthy prior would be all but lost by the time I would come out of the “flare fog“ as I like to call it. I would give up every forward step I had taken in exchange for three giant leaps backward into the bowels of unhealthy eating and the Lazy Boy of sedentary life. And I would stagnate there until I just rolled further and further back downhill to the point I no longer reaped a single benefit from all the hard work I had put in previously. It was a ridiculously vicious cycle, almost heinous really. More than anything though, it was a little sad. Every time it would happen, I was further convinced I would always fail at getting healthier and feeling better. That, my friends, is a cold, stark place to be.

To go through the flare I went through this summer with my Psoriatic Arthritis and to still be on steroids after a year and to still be working full-time and to still be a mother to five wonderful but rambunctious children AND still be moving forward: That for me is a miracle. That for me is the place I want to be. That. That. That. Moving forward. Not giving up. Not losing all progress because of a short term set back. That didn’t use to be me.

Cracking 4,000 on my blog has been pretty awesome for another reason. Aside from the 928 views that belong to my husband (haha), there are a lot of people looking at this blog. Many of them I know. Many of them I don’t. I have had enough people comment on my Facebook, comment on teamddpyoga.com, comment directly on the blog, send me private messages, call me, etc. to know I am doing something else entirely as important as getting myself healthy. I’m helping other people get healthy. I’m no “health guru”. I’m no DDP. I’m no Stacey Morris. I’m no Arthur Boorman or Terri Lange or any number of other awesome and inspiring people. I’m just me. But I’m still helping people. And as good as getting healthier feels, helping others is one of my weaknesses in life. Some might even say I’m a sucker to a fault at times although I would never call out my husband, my mother, my mini Italian New Yorker friend or my Dicky Barrett loving STL connection like that publicly or anyone else for that matter... ;-)

I’m glad I’ve caught my second wind. I hope you are, too. It’s going to be a wild and an awesome ride!

Ready to Live Life at 90

Well, I lied. The old Dell was revived! I assumed the worst and figured she was just gone, but turns out it was just a bad power cord. So, for the low price of $34, my computer is back up and running! Yippee! You know what that means? That’s right! Fresh installments on the blog served up just for you! I get it. It’s what you’ve been dreaming of the last several days. Well, here you go…

I love listening to DDPRadio on Wednesday nights. It’s always informative, refreshing, and motivational. As I listened last week and again tonight, I think it really began to hit me why this whole thing has made such an impact on me. By this whole thing, I mean the “DDPYOGA Lifestyle Change”! I’ve been a social worker for over a decade. I’ve been a birth mother, stepmother, “foster mother”, and now an adoptive mother. The roles of social worker and mother are wholly about giving to others; helping them grow; instilling the desire to improve one’s life; and teaching others that anything they can dream is possible with the right amount of inspiration and perspiration. More importantly probably than any of that though, and I really pull this from my years as a juvenile probation officer and motherhood: reminding people they are human and that we are all fallible. We will fall and we will make mistakes. That’s a given in life. The trick is teaching yourself how to not hold it against yourself, but rather to just learn from it and pick up and go on. That’s always been the tricky part for me. When I screw up, I have a tendency to really let that screw up linger in my mind, and drag me down. I’ve been trying more and more since I began this in January to do that less and less.

I work a full-time job. I am a wife and a mother to five children. I am also a patient diagnosed with a very active autoimmune disorder. While I chose three of those four roles in my life, I certainly didn’t choose the last. The first three roles: social worker, wife and mother can be stressful. However, those roles bring me so much joy on so many levels, it all has a tendency to work itself out. However, I didn’t choose to have an auto-immune disorder. I didn’t decide one day that being really sick, in pain and tired all of the time would be an awesome way to live life. It’s not as though I chose to do drugs or become an alcoholic. I was just unfortunate enough to be born with a genetic pre-disposition to this disorder and a little over a decade ago, it decided to rear it’s ugly head. So, there it is.

The way I see it is that I have two choices. The first is to wallow in self-pity, be a Debbie Downer, and stay generally miserable. The second choice is to take the bull by the horns and lead my life where I want it to go instead. I think I’m choosing the latter and I feel there’s something important along the way stemming from all of this. When I think about living my life at 90% as Dallas would say, I realize it’s definitely my choice to react in a positive way to the things that have happened to me. I realize I can let one of the four roles in my life define my every moment or I can choose to have the other three roles I love define my life. It’s all about life being 10% what happens to you and 90% how you react. So, I choose the latter, and I’m going to take as many people with me as I can while I’m on the way!

Falling Forward

Well, the ole Dell has gone on to be with Computer Jesus.  I'm unsure if we are going to ever be able to revive her.  So, as it stands now, I'm updating my blog from my iPhone.  If you have never tried working on a blog from your iPhone, I don't recommend it.  As awesome as my iPhone is, it's pretty limited in its blogging capabilities.  I may just be less technically advanced than the average Joe, but I can't even figure out how to edit any of my current pages outside of editing just the blogs themselves.  I've also yet to figure out how to add a pre-recorded video.  Should have reconsidered that Criminal Justice degree.  What can you do?

So, my now poor computer is broken down and it matches my broken down body!  Ha!  Not going to let that get me down though!  I'll do what I can to keep the blog up from my beloved iPhone until I figure something else out!

In the meantime, I'm pressing onward.  I think I have officially reclassified my recent failures from the category of failures to simply falling forward!  DDP said that while we were talking on DDPRadio last night and he couldn't be more right.  Although I have had an extremely challenging few months, I still haven't given up, and I won't!  No matter how many road blocks are set in my path, I'm not throwing in the towel!  Although I'm only down 30 pounds right now, I had gained back 15 of the 40 I lost.  That's been primarily due to a lack of working out because of my current arthritic flare and fatigue issues.  Unlike before when I would have such issues and just say screw all of it, I haven't done that this time.  Although I'm not eating perfectly, I'm still eating gluten-free save a piece of cake at my cousin's wedding last weekend...

My dog can die, my computer can fizzle, my body can revolt, whatever else can happen: it  doesn't matter.  Life's been throwing all it's got at me for a hot minute.  I'm gonna keep on trucking and when I fall, I'm gonna fall forward.  Then I'm going to get up, dust myself off, and do it again.

Suicidal Tendencies and the Auto-Immune Disorder

Years ago, I worked with a lady who has Lupus.  Although she lived with chronic pain, she didn’t miss a lot of work which really impressed me.  I remember having a discussion with another co-worker one day about how awful it must be to live with chronic pain.  While I often had issues with my back at the time, it was transient at that point.  I would have “spells” where it was just horrific, but they would only last a few days.  Then it would slowly get better over time, and then eventually it would almost completely go away.  Despite the fact I was in chronic pain, I was at least appreciative of the fact that it was “livable” pain.  It wasn’t until January of 2011 that I got my first mega-dose of chronic pain when I had the worst “spell” I’d ever had.  That one lasted over a month.  It was horrific.  It was grueling.  It brought me to the lowest point I’d ever had in my life - mentally and physically.

As my co-worker and I talked back then, I lamented the mental state of folks with chronic pain.  Because I had a reference of understanding, I could understand fully why someone with chronic pain would contemplate suicide.  It’s a bitch living day-in and day-out constantly hurting.  You get to a point where you can’t even fake it anymore when someone says, “How are you?”  You either just come right out and say, “Man, it really sucks to be me today.”  Or you might tell the truth and try to liven it up a little  with a smile on your face and say something like, “Well, totally awful but what’s the point in talking about that!  How are you?”  Although fairly rare, I’ve done both I’ll admit.  Although lately, the former rather than the latter is what tries to escape my lips more often. 

As my disease has progressed, I have had to learn to live with chronic pain.  The first of this year for about three or four months, I was waking up practically every day almost completely pain free.  It was enough that I could get by without having to take ibuprofen, but this, this was wonderful.  Slowly though, the brick wall has thrown itself back up, and I’ve found myself sliding rapidly back into the pit of chronic pain despair.  Believe me, it’s not been for lack of trying to stay out.  Although my work out record lately has been less than stellar, I’ve been sticking almost 100% to eating gluten free.  My intake of dairy is extremely low to generally none.  My intake of carbs comes entirely from non-bread, non-pasta, non-wheat sources.  I confess my sugar intake could use some work.  I’ve had a bit more lately than I should.  I’m working on it.

Despite the fact I had been doing EVERYTHING right for several months, and a lot still right for the last few months, my disease has taken back complete control of my body.  I’m not sure why.  I haven’t thrown in the towel.  I’m not giving up on at least minimally eating right, and I’m hoping and praying that soon enough, I’ll be back to working out again daily.  For now, the pain is keeping me at bay.  Between the low back pain, the pain in my upper back, hips, and the return of my beloved Costchondritis (painful inflammation of the chest wall), working out is just not even an option.  Additionally, my feet continue to break out, and now my hands are breaking out again.  My  hands generally only break out when I’m in a pretty significant flare.  This one fits that bill.

I confess I contemplated suicide in January of 2011.  There were moments when I considered the pain to be more than I could bear.  There were moments when I really, genuinely thought my family would be better off without me.  There were moments when the life insurance money seemed to me to be a better deal for my family than keeping my broken down self around.  Then I would think about things like my husband trying to get my four year old dressed in the mornings and it just didn’t seem to be as viable an option as I had thought.  In all seriousness though, I really did feel that low.  And it was hard.  It was hard to dig my way out of that.  But I did.  It left me with the realization that if I didn’t have faith, a wonderful husband who is supportive, and five beautiful children, what would have stopped me?  The answer is simple: I don’t know.  I don’t know what would have stopped me then if I didn’t have them, and friends I love, and extended family who mean a lot to me.  I realized the selfish choice of that momentary desire even if I thought I would be doing them a favor.  I realized the truth of words I recently heard my teen quote, “Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.”

Am I contemplating suicide now?  No.  Is this blog some veiled threat or foreshadowing to what I am thinking about doing?  No.  Understand what this blog is.  This blog is a reminder that even when you look at someone who looks like they need to drop a few pounds but looks perfectly healthy otherwise, you don’t know what battles they are struggling with internally.  You don’t know how they are feeling at the moment.  I can easily hide or distract from the couple of “visible” symptoms of my disorder, but I’ve really mastered hiding the ones you can’t see particularly if you don‘t know me very well.  Most people would never know on the day to day over the past decade that I’ve battled physical pain and fatigue almost daily.  But I have.  And it’s been hard.  I’ve overcome it this far though, and I intend to keep going.  If nothing else, I’m going to be the poster girl for working women and mothers with auto-immune disorders.

Despite the despair I am feeling today, I am still hopeful.  I go for my next infusion on Wednesday, earlier if there’s a cancellation.  I’ve contacted my Rheumatologist to let him know about the elevated symptoms so that my infusion can be adjusted accordingly.  I’m feeling low.  I’m feeling down and out.  I know this is just yet another storm I have to weather.  I will overcome it.  At the same time, I am cognizant of the fact there are people out there who lack faith, the support I have from family and friends, or who just haven’t yet mastered the skills I’ve been lucky enough to master to deal with my disorder and everything else that comes with being me.  I still get depressed; I still get down.  I always come up swinging though.  I’m saddened for my brothers and sisters out there who eventually go down and can’t make it back up.  I’ll never judge.  I’ve never been in their shoes regardless of what I think my experience has taught me.

If you are reading this and you are struggling with any of the following:

• Chronic Fatigue
• Chronic Pain
• Depression
• Any auto-immune disorder
• Obesity
• Whatever other sorry demon you’ve got in your life

… Remember these problems and/or flares are only temporary.  I have found my golden ticket between DDPYoga and eating gluten-free.  I know this is the combination that will get me where I need to go.  I’ve just got to remember to hang on just a little longer.  I may not ever be “100%” in the world of physical health, but I can give life 100% of what I’ve got.  Faith, patience, and a whole lotta hard work will pay off for me in the end.  As my old pal DDP says, “Life is 10% what happens to you, and 90% how you react.” Add those two numbers together and you get 100%.  So, I’m gonna heed DDP’s advice even on my lowest days.  I’m no math whiz, but I’m thinking 90 is a much larger number than 10.  In other words, maybe not today or even tomorrow, but I’m thinking my 90 is going to kick life’s ten in the ass.  

Beauty Is In The Eye Of The Beholder... Unless You're Me Looking At Me

 The picture on the far left is the picture I took of Libby that Saturday. Do you see what I see? She will always be beautiful - no matter what.

 

 

On the afternoon of Saturday October 13th, 2012 me and my gal Libby had a rare couple of hours of just the two of us in the house. She was all kinds of giggly and excited as she prepared to go to a slumber party and cookout at one of her friend’s houses. She was flitting about all morning on cloud nine. Then I suddenly noticed her gleeful smile was replaced with a sullen face. I looked at her with the question on my face, and... she said to me, “Mama, do you remember last year when someone at school called me fat?”

I did remember. I remembered it quite clearly because she was devastated and it broke my heart for her that someone could say such a thing to her. Her sensitive soul can barely take constructive criticism much less an outright hateful thing. I remember the sting of the same words being said to me when I was not much older than she. I can, to this day, remember the little boy who said it to me. I remember wanting the ground to open up and swallow me. I remember feeling so worthless. And, as quickly as I was taken back to that moment, I had to take Libby out of hers.

I grabbed my phone. I told her to smile for me and I took a picture of her. I flipped my phone around and asked her if she saw what I saw. She shrugged. I told her that what I saw was a girl who was beautiful – not because she wasn’t fat, not because of her gorgeous brown eyes, not because of her chestnut hair, not because of the adorable spray of freckles across the bridge of her nose and dusting her cute little cheeks – not for just those reasons, but because she’s kind. Because she rarely says anything out of anger. Because she wouldn’t just come out and say anything just to be mean to someone (well, except maybe the occasional dig at a little brother…). She didn’t seem totally convinced, so I had no choice but to grab her and commence to counting ribs. That brought on the raucous laughter and, for a moment at least, those stinging words were forgotten.

I know she’ll remember them again. She will have a lull. Her mind will wander. She’ll go back to that place. I wish I could snap my fingers and make it never happen again. I can’t. Almost 30 years later, I still go back to that same place. I hate it. I wish I could erase it. I wish I could never think of it again. The power of words is sometimes too great. Sometimes no amount of time or space can erase their bite. I have struggled with self-image issues for most of my life although my weight has only been a problem for the last decade or so. I know I am what my daughter was called. But, she is not. She is beautiful inside and out. She is kind. She is loving. She is warm. She is sensitive. She is smart. She is funny. She is silly. She is my baby.

When I think about everything that goes on in this world, and how hurt people are by the words of others, I wish there was any way I could make young people, in particular, understand the power of their words. As I reflect on the recent news of another teen suicide spurred in large part by the cruel taunts of others, I am saddened to know there will be more tears from my sensitive daughter. There will be more hurtful words in the future. I can only hope as a parent that the words I choose for her will be powerful enough to overshadow the misguided and misdirected thoughtless and angry words of others.  Think before you speak. Words really do hurt. Sometimes the wounds run so deep they never heal. Sometimes they overtake people before they find the strength to get past them. That’s the greatest tragedy of all.

I won't lie and pretend wearing smaller size clothes and "looking better" aren't awesome motivations for me when it comes to doing my DDPYOGA and eating clean.  I do want to look better and wear smaller clothes.  What I want more than that now though is to FEEL better and to BE healthy; to feel good about myself not because I'm runway ready but because I could run up a flight of stairs without being winded; to have the energy to ALWAYS keep up with my kids; etc.  I want to be able to feel better not because of what others think about me but because I am learning just how strong an impact my own personal thoughts of myself affect my physical health.  The mind is a terrible thing to waste.  Don't waste it on self-loathing and tearing yourself down.  Use to bring yourself up and others with you!

 

What My Dog Taught Me About Life

My last Christmas with my sweet baby girl, Justice.

December 2012

She was meant to be a champion. I think that’s why she was born on Super Bowl Sunday. And she really was. Not a show champion, but a champion in spirit. It was Easter Sunday, April 23, 2000 when I brought her home with me. I had no idea how much she would change my life or how much she would come to mean to me. She was 12 weeks old the day I brought her home. To that point, she was the most adorable thing I had ever seen in my life. For the moment, it was just me and her against the world. I was going through the worst time of my life at that point. I was only a couple of months out from kicking Mr. Wrong to the curb, and our divorce wasn’t even final yet. I was lost and lonely and had no idea how much she would fill the void.

As a newly living single woman, I thought long and hard about a good name for her. It seems to me there was only one name that ever seemed right and it was the name I gave her. I joked about how I needed to give her the name I chose, because who in their right mind upon trying to enter my home uninvited would continue in after hearing her frenzied barking and me calling “Justice” down? Those were my thoughts anyway. So, it was me and Justice.

As a pup, she would curl up on the pillow right next to me and sleep. She was always by my side. I learned early on she was terrified of thunderstorms. No matter how big she got though, she never realized she was too big to sit in my lap when the thunder started rolling (or any other time for that matter). That was easier when she weighed 20 pounds than it was once she hit 90! She was with me always and for as much as I comforted her through the storms in life, she comforted me far more than I ever did her.

When the time came that our little family of two would expand, Justice welcomed every new member heartily. She became our protector. She looked after and loved my husband and children more than I thought was possible for an animal. The more they loved her; the more it seemed she loved them back. My children delighted in using her as a pillow, an object to pull up to standing, a trash compactor, a friend, a comforter and so much more. Each new role she was presented with was met with patience and grace. Those were her babies, too.

I never imagined when I brought her home over 13 years ago that our relationship would develop into such a strong bond. I had no idea how just her mere presence would comfort and calm me through my own storms in life. The most poignant for me being the days following my miscarriage. She instinctively knew something was very wrong. As faithful as ever, she stayed with me every moment. She was there for me and comforted me right down to licking my tears. Losing her two days ago, well, it’s left a hole in my heart I don’t think I’ll ever really be able to fill.

I have long heard the adage, “I want to be as good a person as my dog thinks I am.” There’s so much truth to that. Honestly though, I think it’s almost a little backward. I wonder sometimes if it shouldn’t read, “I want to be as good a person as my dog is.” I know this may sound trite to a person who isn’t a big animal lover, and I recognize we can’t all be. I also know some people don’t understand the love a human can have for a dog or vice versa. That’s cool, too. Some people are animal people and some are not. Regardless of what your personal feelings are in regards to animals, it doesn’t change the fact that my dog taught many things.

Here are a few of those things:

- There’s no such thing as giving too much love.
- You should let people know you will miss them even if you know you’ll see them tonight.
- Forgiveness is divine.
- Thunderstorms are really scary, but less scary with someone you love.
- Exercise can be a lot of fun especially when it’s a thrown tennis ball.
- Comforting someone you love doesn’t require knowing the “right” words to say. Sometimes it requires no words at all.
- It’s as important to accept praise as it is to give it.
- Patience is a virtue.
- You should let people know you are happy to see them even if you just saw them this morning.
- The desire to help and love can transcend almost any barrier.

I could probably create an endless list if I really tried. These are a few of the bigger points. I guess what all of this boils down to is simply this: It’s easy in life to get caught up in the negative. It’s easy to get stressed out. It’s easy to feel sad. It’s easy to feel lonely. It’s easy to wonder, “Why me?” If you really want it to be though, it could be just as easy to find the positive. It could be easy to let go of worry. It could be easy to be happy. It could be easy to not feel alone. It could be easy to think, “I am blessed.”

I always knew my dog was great, but I never really knew just how much my dog had taught me about “living life at 90%”. I’m really hoping as I continue through this process of self-discovery and self-improvement that I can teach others and help and inspire people. I also hope some day I’ll be as wonderful as my dog.

 

A Little Coat of Paint

This abandoned farm house looks better than one I saw!

Yeah, this one is in much better shape.  LOL.

One of my mother's favorite stories to tell about me is one that occurred when I was around four years of age. At the time, she was a single mother and there wasn't a whole lot of extra money to go around. We use to sometimes take weekend drives out in the country for entertainment. Sometimes we would take a picnic. Sometimes we'd take old bread and go feed the fish at Ledford Mill. On one such sunny Saturday afternoon, we took the fairly usual tour.

There was only one difference in this trip. There was an old abandoned farm house not too far from the mill. On this particular day, there was a for sale sign nailed into a tree in the front "yard". I hesitate to use the term yard without quotes because it was less like a yard and more like an overgrown field in front of a house. For whatever reason, my mother decided playing a prank on the sweet, young, innocent four year old gazing contently out the window was in order for the day. She slowed the car to a stop in front of the old abandoned house. Excitedly she exclaimed, "Look, Stephanie, it's for sale! Let's go look at it." I'm not even sure it initially registered with me what she was up to, so I dutifully followed unaware of the impending hijinks.

To say the house was rundown would be a pretty kind understatement of it's condition. It had likely been sitting there abandoned for at least a decade or two and was likely to have been in that spot since the very early 1900's. Walking up to that house seemed a bit daunting. It had all the classic symptoms of a structure in decay: peeling paint, broken windows, floorboards missing on the porch, steps up to the porch crumbling, etc. In my four year old little mind, this house would be the perfect home for some decrepit old witch. Looking back, squatters should have been my biggest concern!

I was a bit hesitant about approaching that house. However, my mother seemed so excited. She went up the steps of the porch and pushed open the front door. The door opened to one large room. The entire downstairs was a living area, dining area, and kitchen. I’m fairly certain there was no bathroom. I think there may have been a loft area upstairs but certainly not a full second floor. It was tiny. And the inside, well, it looked just as bad as the outside! There were cobwebs everywhere and decades of dust. It was truly a sad state of affairs for the little house.

My mother suddenly spins around and looks at me and says, “What do you think? Do you like it?” I didn’t know what to say. My four year old mind couldn’t process a single nice thing to say about that dump. I just stared at her, utterly confused. She smiled broadly, “It’s for sale. I think we should buy it.” Well, that was it, I knew she was crazy. How on earth could we possibly live here!? So, I tried to point out the obvious. “But, mom, there’s a big hole in the floor.” I pointed to the hole as if she might somehow not see it right there in the middle of the living room area. She just looked at me and said, “Oh, don’t worry about it! We can put a rug over that.” She was so confident this place was great and I just didn’t know what to make of it.

She could see the disapproving look still residing on my face. She was going to have to kick up the stakes a notch to get me to buy into this whole thing. That’s when the real trickery entered the game.

“Stephanie, if we lived here in the country, you could have a horse!” Well, that did it. Cruel as such an untrue promise is, I bought it hook, line, and sinker. A horse? Dang, are you kidding me? I guess I’d live most anywhere if it meant I could have a horse!!! So, I began to look around that old house with different eyes. I was trying to figure out a way we could make this work. With my finger stroking my chin and wild-eyed wonder in my eyes I said, “Well, with a little paint…”

So, why do I tell such a silly story tonight? What’s the point in all of this? What’s this got to do with DDPYOGA, getting healthy, etc.? Not a whole lot really except to say this: A lot of times we tend to think we can just put a little band aid on something and everything will be alright. We think we should go on a diet, get serious for a minute, eat some Lean Cuisines, exercise for a few days, and that will make up for years and years of abuse our weather worn bodies have taken. We’ll join the gym, we’ll hang out with Jenny, or weigh in with Weight Watchers. What we don’t do is take time for a full over-haul.

That house wasn’t going to make it with a simple coat of paint. My less than world wise naïve four year old mind might have been suckered for the promise of a pony, but that was then and this is now. If we truly want to change our lives, we’ve got to be willing to do a complete re-model. We’ve got to tear ourselves down, and rebuild from the foundation up. We have to retrain our bodies, our minds, and our spirits. You can’t truly achieve a fulfilling and healthy life with only one or even two of these for any great length of time.

I think that’s the reason the whole DDPYOGA program/lifestyle has had such an impact with me thus far while so many other things have failed. Although I have fallen this year, don’t get me wrong, I feel more confident and faithful than ever I am making real, life-long and powerful changes. I’m learning to eat right - I mean REALLY right; I’m learning more than ever how much my attitude/mental/spiritual health can affect my physical health; and I’m learning good exercise can be self-directed, at home, no matter “where” you are physically.

If I’m being totally honest, I guess I like the no BS approach of DDP, too. I believe him to be a compassionate man to a degree that probably no one in the general public could even know, but he’s also not about to just let you off the hook either. He’s gonna play it straight, and tell ya to quit making excuses. And, you know what? He’s right. It’s way past the time for many of us, myself included, to quit making excuses. No more I don’t have time, I don’t feel good, I’m too tired, and on and on ad nauseum. My life needs more than a simple coat of paint. I’m rebuilding my God given temple from the foundation up. Wanna come with me?

Oh, and mom, where's my pony?

Sweating Hard or Hardly Sweating

Last night, I finished a full week of my self-imposed Streak Challenge.  Seven days of working out.  My arthritis and neuropathic pain in my back have been giving me fits, but I gave it the best I had every day.  Some days I sweated like a maniac.  Other days, I hardly sweat a drop.  The dryer days weren't for a lack of trying but a lack of energy to make the workout as impactful as I would have liked.  Doesn't matter.  The point is: I KEPT MOVING.  Every day for the last seven days, I have worked out in some shape, form or fashion.  AND, I am getting ready to work out again...  Today is day eight.  Tomorrow will be day nine.  The next will be day ten, and I will keep going.

I will NOT give up.  Ever.

It's The Small Things

I finally have a video up.  Not incredibly impressive, but at least it's a start!  It's been a ridiculous mess just trying to get this done.  I need to get slightly more computer savvy, but I'm glad I at least have this figured out.  It's the small things.

Today marks day five for the Streak Challenge.  I also continue with my daily plank challenge.  My time was not as good tonight as it was last night.  I only managed to hold the plank 1min 49sec tonight.  I'm also continuing to work on my form.  I know it will get harder to hold the times as I get the form more like it should be.

I start my daily bike rides in the morning.  I should have been training all summer long, but my body had other plans.  Revolt or nay, I have only have eight more weeks until the Jack and Back.  I will not leave my friend Jenny without a pal to ride with.  One way or the other, I'll be on the ride with her... all 110 miles of it.

Back in the Saddle Again

I can't believe I'm going to post my first real video tonight.  I hate being videoed worse than I hate being photographed.  I feel goofy in front of a video camera.  Definitely not my thing.  Now, if you need me to conduct a training on a favored child welfare topic, I can talk all day.  Stick a camera in front of me to introduce a plank challenge and talk about myself for a minute, and I got nothing!

I called into DDPRadio night before last.  The show was primarily about the DDPYoga Challenge, blogs, and who inspires us.  I really wanted to call in and let Stacey and Arthur know how much their hard work is appreciated by me.  I know they hear it all the time, but I figured one more time couldn't hurt.  I've followed the two of them more closely than anyone else and I have just been crazy impressed by the transitions they've made not just in their physicality but in their spirits on the whole.  They may have brand new bodies, but their new leases on life, well, that's where it's at really.

So, in trying to figure out what exactly it's going to take to trip my trigger and get me back on track, I listened and heard a lot about the challenges that have been going on among teamddpyoga members.  I've seen posts about them, but in my retreat the last several weeks, I confess I just hadn't been paying enough attention.  Face meet palm.  Again.

I decided today that I am going to challenge myself on a couple of the challenges that were mentioned.  First, I am going to do the DDPYoga Streak!  Slow down folks!  No, it doesn't involve the removal of clothing!  Ain't nobody got time for that!  Not now anyway, but I digress.  If you don't know, the Streak challenge is to push yourself to see how many days in a row you can go without missing a DDPYoga workout.  So, that's challenge number one.  I just finished up day two.  Woohoo!

The second self-challenge I decided to take on is the plank challenge.  I've really struggled with my upper body strength.  So, what better way to put in a little extra work on that area than doing the plank challenge!  So, without further ado, here's the video from tonight.  Pardon my appearance, I had just finished working out!

Pre-posting edit 8/9/13: My laptop completely DIED last night.  I thought I would just use my work laptop to download the video or maybe not.  For some reason I can't even get in to edit my blog from my work computer much less post a video.  I can post photos from iPhone to blogger, but not videos.  I'm just going to have to hold on to the videos until I can figure out another way to do it or get my laptop fixed.

I didn't want to appear as though i had just dropped off again... Here's where I am since "challenging" myself... AGAIN!

8/7/13: Streak Challenge - RHC

8/8/13: Streak Challenge - Fat Burner

             Plank Challenge: 2 min 13 secs

8/9/13: Streak Challenge: - RHC

             Plank Challenge: 1min 42 secs

             Other: Yard Work - 45 min

And three days entirely gluten-free!  

A couple of pics will have to do until I can get my video situation worked out!

Owning that plank!  Can't wait until I hit the three minute mark!

Victims? Aren't We All?

On January 4, 2013, I did it. And when I say I did, I mean I really did it! I jumped into DDPYoga head long! I jumped right in the deep end! I figured since I knew how to swim, it was going to be all good. I started working out EVERY day! I began eating gluten-free. Even though the weight started coming off almost immediately, it still just didn’t seem quite fast enough. Before I knew it though, I had lost 37 pounds! 37 pounds! I lost 37 pounds in four months! I couldn’t believe it. Holy crap! That’s a lot of weight in four months. More important than a loss of weight equal to my four year old child was how I felt. For the first time ever after starting some kind of weight loss program, I actually was feeling better. Any idea how much MORE that accounts for than just pounds lost???

And, I felt great actually. It was awesome! I was like a freaking Energizer bunny! I was working out every day, working full time, taking care of my five children, smiling the whole time, and NOT hurting! I was waking up practically every morning pain free. It was phenomenal and the best I had felt in years. I gave up Diet Dr. Peppers about a month or so in to working the program. A few months later, I followed that with giving up cigarettes. My two vices in life were gone. Out the door. Done. And I was still standing.

By the time I met DDP and Jake in Cookeville on May 4 at Slamfest, I was reeling with delight. I couldn’t wait to tell them both about my progress and how much they had inspired me to do everything I had been doing. It was an awesome meeting. It was literally everything I could have dreamed of and more. They were both so absolutely gracious and nice. I picked up brochures from DDP that night after I had told him how I had gotten my mom started, and had a few more people were coming on board. I was just excited. I literally felt high, and I was just high on life. I felt unstoppable.

Shortly after Slamfest, I learned there would be an Ultimate Workshop in Atlanta. I talked to my husband about going. I really wanted to go because I felt I needed the boost. For some unknown reason, I started losing steam after Slamfest. Not excitement, not desire, I was just literally running out of steam. At the risk of sounding melodramatic, I quite simply could feel the energy leaving my body. Like dew evaporating in the morning sun, once again, some unseen force was sucking the life blood right out of me.

Damn. I really thought I had it this time.

I went to the Ultimate Workshop in Atlanta. Again, awesome seeing DDP. Jake wasn’t around, but I got to meet other teamDDPYoga members. It was just an awesome experience and I will do the next one I can. I thought one more hit of DDP live would boost me over the hump. I wanted it to so badly. It’s the nature of the beast though. I have an auto-immune disorder. I have flares and I have dormancy periods. For whatever reason, this flare has hit me with the absolute hardest knock out delivery of fatigue I have ever had to deal with since I started dealing with this over a decade ago. Honestly, I’m still dealing with it RIGHT now. When it began several weeks ago, I tried really hard to deny it. If only I could pretend it away for just a little bit, maybe it would just disappear. Unfortunately, that didn’t happen. Instead, despite my best efforts, it has just stayed on like an unwanted guest and I’m still trying to evict it. The fatigue, neuropathic pain, arthritic pain, headaches, they’ve all been back even with keeping the diet. I gave up on the yoga. It’s been everything I can do to drag myself out of bed in the mornings. And while I’m at it…

Forget those ignorant confession pages, cause here goes mine: I picked up the Diet Dr. Peppers again. I was struggling so hard in the afternoons to stay awake at work, I started drinking them for the caffeine pick up to get me through the rest of my work day. When I went from plateau to gain, I picked the smokes back up, too. All I could think about was the few hundred calories it would burn. Short term trade off worth it? I doubt it. But, here I am. I also withdrew from teamddpyoga as well as my blog in part to a lot of craziness that is my life. Definitely not because I was too ashamed to admit my transgressions, but because I just didn’t want to be a drag. Even before DDPYoga, I preferred to be a positive person. After DDPYoga, I was a positive person ALL THE TIME. Literally. I like being that person and I didn’t want to burden anyone with the person I felt I used to be. I don’t like feeling like a victim. I like acting the part even less. I only share what’s happened to me in the past as a means to communicate with and to relate to people: not to whine, not to look for sympathy; just a way to connect and understand. I try really hard to never pull the “victim card”. It’s not who I am. I do, however, frequently pull the “Hey, this is what I’ve been through just like you so we can BOTH get through it” card. That’s more my style.

Victims? Yeah, aren’t we all “victims” of this life? We’re all familiar with the memes that cover that. Walk a mile in my shoes, don’t judge, DON‘T GIVE UP, etc. Yada, yada, yada. Don’t get me wrong. I love the memes. I post them ALL the time, but I want them to be inspiration for me to stay where I am or keep me moving another step on the road I’m going: Not to drag me up out of the depth of some God-forsaken, self-created, miserable little victim hole I crawled into. Ick. I.am.so.done.with.that.nonsense.

So, effective, oh, right about now, I’m done. The tally for the year thus far:

HOLE: 1

STEPHANIE: 1

Starting today, I’m working on score two. The score won’t change much from here. It’s going to look a lot like a low scoring hockey game score when it’s all said and done. Hole ain’t scoring on me anymore. I’m working on goal two and it’s game over for Hole after that. Victim? I don’t think so. 

We're looking at day one of the rest of my life, and I just killed Red Hot Core.  It's on. 

A Little Bit of Pixie Dust?

I had an appointment with my rheumatologist in December of 2012. Things had been going okay and we talked about trying to taper down my steroids again. He wanted me to try and start tapering them down one milligram per week and see if that would work. Although my symptoms still weren’t fully under control, he was hoping the medication I was on would be sufficient to hold it at bay. He also mentioned something to me for the first time. He asked me if I had ever thought about eating gluten free. When I got done laughing at his question, I politely answered I had thought about it and had pretty well determined that would not be a path I would be taking. He informed me there were some studies that had been done indicating there might be a link between certain auto-immune disorders and gluten. He told me he would really like for me to try a gluten free diet. He felt it could possibly help with some of my symptoms and at worst it would do nothing and certainly do no harm. He suggested I read a book called “Wheat Belly”. I dutifully smiled, and said I would read the book. Honestly, I really didn’t think there was anyway I could make this happen, but I said I’d read the book.

I found myself perusing the shelves of Books-A-Million. I found the book fairly quickly and purchased it. I didn’t begin reading it immediately. It sat for a few days. There was one more catalyst I needed to get my thoughts really churning. Although I had, in a way, blown off what my rheumatologist had said, deep down I really felt there might be something to it. I wasn’t ready to face it though. I just wasn’t really sure I could go down the road of making more sacrifices again for naught.

A few days after the appointment I was browsing Facebook. A friend had posted a link to a video. The “amazing transformation” got my attention, and I decided to take a look. I was pretty sure it was going to be the same as lots of other “transformations” I had seen on the interwebs. Some ridiculous claim by some ridiculous person that if I just took this pill or drank this juice I could lose weight without even changing my lifestyle. The all too familiar promises of liars who are all too happy to swipe my card, take my money, and leave me feeling dejected when I fail once again with a new “miracle cure.”

Almost immediately I knew this video was different. This wasn’t about some miracle pill or awesome pre-packaged foods that cost hundreds of dollars a month. This was something different. I was intrigued by this “every day” guy who worked really hard to lose a lot of weight. I was moved to tears when he proved the doctors wrong and set himself free from a life of bondage to his unhealthy body. I cried as I watched him fall and fall and get back up again. I sobbed when I saw the man who had given up on ever feeling good again sprinted toward the camera. I was struck by his tenacity. I was awed by his courage. I wanted to be just like him. I wanted to make those changes. I wanted to feel good. I wanted to be free of my self created prison.

The unique thing about the way this video moved me is important. My initial thought was, “Man, if this guy can do it at 100 pounds more than I weigh, what the heck is my excuse???” He’s got a back brace, two knee braces, and walks with the assistance of crutches. Yeah, I have moments of pure physical pain and torture. For me, however, I at least get reprieves. I’m not stuck in that hell all day every day. Although my symptoms can persist for long periods of time, it’s not as though I never have days where I am relatively pain free. I had literally never seen anything like it. That video, that man, made me want to change the direction of my health. I also felt for the first time in longer than I could remember that it might actually be possible. I felt like I really could possibly make it happen.

I chewed on that video for a few days and decided it was time. I wanted had to do it. I began reading “Wheat Belly” and talked to my husband about ordering the DDYOGA program. Talking my husband into the DDPYOGA purchase wasn’t incredibly difficult given he’s a long time wrestling fan. As I was, my husband was also intrigued with DDP‘s program. After reading about it, watching videos, checking reviews, etc., I really felt as though I had finally found a program that felt tailor-made for me. On January 4^th of 2013, I began.

So, there I was. I took my before pictures. I got my yoga mat and I was ready to work out. I had already been grocery shopping and was cutting gluten out of my diet. I was pumped. The only thing I needed at that point to turn from couch potato to a woman working out daily and going from carb addict to gluten-free eater was to hop on the unicorn in the back yard and go for a ride while waving my magic wand and sprinkling pixie dust all over my little universe.  Right?  I mean, seriously, how likely was I really to change 38 years of bad habits over night? 

Good question. I was pumped. I mean really, really pumped. But could I make it happen? Arthur did.  Could Stephanie do it?  Was she fooling herself or was this really it?  Would a little bit of pixie dust be required to get her flying? 

Spring of Hope

After a hiatus of several days, I’m back at it hard today.  I took a long weekend off and headed to Baton Rouge last Friday with my STL Connection.  We had an absolute blast visiting with a mutual friend and my family.  It was relaxing, fun, and we have promised we will do it again!  Sometimes it’s just necessary to get away from the pace of your life for a few days, have a little fun, and recharge.  Since I couldn't be in Mexico for the DDPYoga Retreat, I think I managed to drown my sorrows in the most positive of ways! 

Now, on with the blog…

Ten days after the birth of my baby girl Annalee, I began experiencing what has to be the most excruciating migraine of my entire life.  I’ve had a history of migraines for several years, but this one outdid them all.  After about 12 hours with the migraine, I decided to check my blood pressure when absolutely nothing else I was doing was bringing me any relief.  I thought perhaps my blood pressure was elevated more so than normal and was causing my head to pound.  It was about two in the morning when I took my blood pressure.  I was certain when I read the monitor that there must be some kind of error as I had never seen my blood pressure that high outside of a delivery room.  I took my blood pressure a second time and got the same result.  I woke my husband up and took his blood pressure.  His came out normal.  I took mine a third and it was still measuring extremely high.  My theory that the monitor was malfunctioning was now out the window.  I decided to call the on-call doctor for advice on what to do.  Needless to say, I was advised to go to the emergency room.  Immediately.

I arrived at the emergency room sometime after 2:00am.  Although my migraine was still out of control, I was seriously thinking my blood pressure would be normal at that point and I would feel silly for creating all the fuss.  However, it quickly became obvious there was a serious problem with it.  The same measurements were taken in the emergency room I had taken at home:  210/111.  I wound up being taken up to the maternity floor as I was only ten days post-partum.  The next day and a half was literally one large blur.  I was barely conscious and Lord only knows what was done to me try and get my blood pressure back under control.  The only point at which I can even remember being aware of whether it was day or night was when I was taken to have some kind of scan.  I have an extreme sensitivity to light when I have a migraine, and they gave me a towel to cover my eyes on the way.  At one point, my arm slipped off the side of the wheel chair and the comforting dark veil of the towel gave way to the searing pain of sunlight.  In that brief moment until I could coordinate my hands to get the towel back over my eyes, I felt as though needles were stabbing my eyes.  Regardless of the pain though, I couldn’t let myself cry.  Sobbing only made my head ache even worse.  I sucked it up as best I could and tried to breathe out the pain.

The nightmare finally ended after that day and a half although I wound up being in the hospital for a total of four days.  It’s still unclear what exactly happened.  I don’t know if the high blood pressure caused the migraine or if the migraine caused the high blood pressure.  No one else seemed to know either.  Seemed to be the usual case for me.  Nothing ever comes standard for me health wise.  Ever the enigma as I hear from medical professionals on a consistent basis, “Well, I’ve never seen it present this way, but…”  Man, if only I had a nickel…  One thing was for sure, I wasn’t birthing any more babies.

The next year or so would continue on as the last several had.  I would sporadically have migraines, my psoriasis had become an ever present condition on my skin, the acute arthritic back pain and neuropathic pain would come and go, and crippling fatigue would continue to plague me every step of the way.  I continued with work and caring for our two children and would pray for temporary reprieves from my symptoms.  Sometimes they would come and sometimes they did not.

I must have been in a particularly froggy mood when a friend of mine asked me around February of 2010 whether or not my husband and I could temporarily help care for her nephews if needed while her sister underwent treatment for Leukemia.  Without even consulting my husband, I gave her a flat yes.  I somehow instinctively knew my husband would be quite okay with a couple of a little boys in the house to help even out the estrogen to testosterone ratio.  When I spoke with him, he was okay with my response.  And so we waited.  We didn’t know how long it would be before the call would come asking for our help or if it would even come at all.  It did a few months later.


Toward the end of May 2010, the call came asking us if we could take the boys for a couple of months.  We said yes and asked when they would arrive.  It would only be a few days before the number of children in our home was going to double for a period of time.  I knew it would be no easy task, but I had prayed on it and I knew we would be up for it!  We busied ourselves getting a bedroom and ourselves ready for their arrival.  We were very excited to have them with us and with Kim coming to visit soon for the summer, it was going to be quite a summer with five children about!  I simply couldn’t wait to have a house full of children!


Kim arrived shortly after the boys and the summer was off and running.  After Kim’s arrival and several conversations, it became evident Kim wanted to move in with us as badly as we had wanted her to move in with us for years.  We began filing paperwork and doing what needed to be done legally to make it happen.  Although something of a headache, the process went along more quickly and smoothly than I thought it would.  Before we knew it, legal custody of Kim was ours and she was on her way to east Tennessee to pack up her things and head back home!  So, as we were prepping to make Kim a permanent part of the household, we were simultaneously prepping for the boys to return back to their mother.  The two months was almost up and we had been advised they would be returning home as planned.

Word came the Tuesday before the boys were to return home that their mother had been re-hospitalized.  The treatment she had undergone had been brutal.  Her physical health wasn’t near where it needed to be to look after two young active boys.  We were asked if we could keep the boys a few more months to give her additional time to recuperate from the treatment that was almost killing her in order to save her.  Without a doubt, our response was yes.  We had to shift gears from readying the boys to return home to getting them enrolled in Kindergarten and pre-school, getting physicals completed, etc.  It was a pretty major shift as Kim had also just moved into our home.  It appeared we would have a house full for the foreseeable future.  So, it was the seven of us from that July of 2010 until December 0f 2010.  That’s when the boys went back home to their mother.  Although I was happy the boys were going home because it meant their mother was still in remission and doing better, there was a part of me that was so sad to see them leave.  Their mother and the boys spent Christmas with us, the boys would come visit on the weekends, and it was nice that we would get to remain a part of their lives.

It would also turn out to be a good thing the boys went home when they did.  In January of 2011, my body went into a total revolt.  I don’t know what happened.  I’m unsure if it was in some way related to the stress of the whole situation with the boys and Kim moving in or if it was just the natural progression of my still unidentified disorder.  It probably helped little that I had strep in December.  Strep can take my immune system down like nothing else.  Either way, the ride I was about to go on would be a nightmare unlike any other I had yet experienced with my health.

The months of January and February 2011 would be two of the darkest months of my life.  The arthritis in my back had spiraled to new lows.  I remember having said multiple times before when my back would go out a few days at a time that I just couldn’t imagine having to live with chronic back pain.  I didn’t realize that my sporadic issues were going to turn chronic for me.  I missed almost the entire month of January from work.  I was in so much pain I could barely function on the day to day.  Much like the incident from when Libby was a baby, it became a daily struggle to even get out of bed.  The exception being that rather than lasting for a few days, this episode stretched into a couple of solid months.  Each morning would begin the same.  I would wake up feeling nothing but excruciating pain up and down my spine.  Each morning I would spend the first hour of my day getting out of bed and into an upright standing position.  Literally, it would take an hour just to stand up.  I can think of little in life that has ever been more disheartening for me.

My darkest days came when I seriously considered the point in going on.  I felt absolutely useless and was in so much physical pain, I just wanted a way out.  I seriously considered the worst choice to be my best option because I physically and mentally couldn’t take it anymore.  I thought about overdosing.  I thought about pulling my car into the garage and closing the door.  I thought about it multiple times.  I thought about how my husband and children could survive without me and they would be just fine.  At that point, I could only see myself as a burden.  All the while I still prayed for relief and answers to come.  It just didn’t seem to be happening fast enough.  I was just so tired of fighting with my body, feeling sick, feeling tired, and being in pain.  I’m glad I made the wiser choice of hanging on.


The last two months of my harshest winter were almost over, and with the spring answers would come.  Although I wasn’t going to be “fixed” overnight, I was at least happy to finally know there was an answer.  It was a relief to find a “name” and an explanation for all I had been going through.  I knew there was still a long road ahead of me, but at least the proverbial light at the end of the tunnel was visible to me.  Hope.  Hope means a lot when you thought you’d never find it again.