A toddler learning to walk will fall repeatedly. A young child with her new two-wheeler will falter many times before she first rides without the training wheels. Skinned knees will not deter children from learning to roller skate. Bruised arms and legs don't prevent girls from trying cartwheels in their backyards.
Children have a resilency that is remarkable. Adults... not as much so.
Perhaps we are like elastic bands. New bands stretch and return to their original shape. As the elastic ages, it becomes looser and brittle. It goes from remarkable resiliency to extreme fragility.
As children, we are tenacious. We never give up. Quitting isn't a word most of us have in our vocabularly. At least, not when it comes to something we want to learn, something we yearn to be able to do. As adults, we do not have this tenacity. We let go of dreams too easily. We forget to fight for what we want, for what we love. We are tired, and do not want to exert our energy on flightless dreams of whimsy.
We forget how to be free. We forget how to let go. We forget, all too easily, that life is not endless. That time is not something we ever get back. We slip into despair and grief or waste time and energy on anger or regret.
So many children recognize that life is hard. We don't give them credit for it, but think back. Most of us had some sort of challenges to overcome. Most of us had to fight to grow into the people we are today. Those of us lucky enough to look in the mirror and like the person that looks back have had to fight for that self-respect. Children choose not to dwell on what they cannot control. They may become anxious or excited. They cry and they falter. Yet always they stand up again. Always they clean that skinned knee and put the skates back on their feet, ready to try again.
If we could bottle that fearlessness, that effervescence...if we could market the freedom children know, we'd all be rich. We forget, though, that we have this quality. If we tap deep into our psyches and remember who were were not that terribly long ago, we can enjoy this release from grief, this ability to fight for what we want, for whom we want to become. If we only stop and remember that life, while often cruel and miserable, can be beautiful and amazing... well... if we could do that, it would be a gift no one could take from us.
So, the next time you watch a child take her first steps, the next time you watch a Little League team win, just remember that they were not afraid of the journey. They failed before they could succeed. They fought for what they wanted... and you can, too. You just have to choose to believe.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Day 23
It whirls and twists inside my head
A tornado of unwanted questions
Which have no answers
I slip away inside and evade
The looks of worry in their eyes
Disappointment echoes in their every word
Unspoken and often unintened
My translation wrought with errors
I read between lines that are not there
My mind accepts the vicious lashes
I self-inflict behind closed eyes
A tornado of unwanted questions
Which have no answers
I slip away inside and evade
The looks of worry in their eyes
Disappointment echoes in their every word
Unspoken and often unintened
My translation wrought with errors
I read between lines that are not there
My mind accepts the vicious lashes
I self-inflict behind closed eyes
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Day 22
This is inspired by the Brad Paisley song "Letter To Me."
Dear Katya,
This is yourself, in the future. You've given up the name Katya, but you still have nicknames and pen names. Juliet is your favorite of these.
I'm sure you're skeptical. It's in your nature, though you aren't yet skeptical enough. So, here's a little something to prove it's me.
"Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name..."
That should get the job done.
It's a good guess that Jason has recently dumped you again. I'm sure you're frustrated and hurt, but let me tell you this... you will soon understand him better, and soon you're gonna realize you deserve more than he'll ever be able to give you.
Life has been challenging for you. I wish I could say that it gets less challenging, but the truth is, you have so many obstacles to overcome ahead of you. Just know that they make you a stronger person. You will learn to stand up for yourself, and you will learn to walk away from situations and people that hurt you.
There's a man you will meet. I won't say when, but suffice it to say, you'll know when you meet him. I know you have a huge crush on someone else right now... but he's not the right choice. I do wish you believed enough in yourself to see that he is completely into you, but you're not ready to take that step yet. Someday, you wiil be ready, and you'll put it all on the line for this amazing man. You'll dance in the rain and cry in the rain, and in the end, you'll stand with him on a rock in the desert and become his forever.
Life doesn't get easier just because we get older. Nor do people stop being dysfunctional just because you move far away from them (and you will). It won't matter, though... your life is so full of love that comparatively speaking, everything bad that happens will seem less awful. You will have someone to hold you when you cry.
Fantasies you've barely dared to imagine will come true for you. You will write a book - one you actually finish. Oh, and you're going to use a computer for that. I'm serious. I'm sure you're laughing, but it's true. Even more, you're going to rebuild your computer when your motherboard dies. I'm pretty sure I can hear your snorts of laughter from the past... but it's going to happen, thanks to that guy.
There will be this girl. You'll meet her in a totally unexpected way, and she will become part of the life you share with him. It will sound strange to you now, but you will love her... and so will he. She will teach you that love does not have boundaries or limits, and you will love him all the more because of her prescence in your life. She will give you gifts that have no value because they transcend tangible goods.
Your heart will break in ways you never imagined possible. What you've gone through with Jason will be laughable (and plenty will laugh, believe me). You will realize you never knew what love was... and your poetry will improve because you'll have someone - something - real to write about.
This man will help you piece your heart back together... if you let him. If you don't hide inside yourself and try to pretend, as you so often do now, that everything is just fine. It's okay to let him see you cry. He loves you. He will do whatever he can to make you smile through your tears, and he will succeed. But when he doesn't, when the pain is just too raw, he'll just hold you and love you through it.
I know it sounds like a pipe dream to you now. Just keep your heart and mind open. You will stumble, you will fall, you will hurt... and dreams you've had your entire live will die. When you graduate in June, you will get a book by Dr. Seuss called Oh, The Places You'll Go! You will love this book, and you need to remember the wisdom it has to offer you. You will need to remember that sometimes you lose... but that it is possible to win even when that happens. You can fail from lack of trying, or you can fight for what you want. Even if you fail, at least you've put in the effort. At least you have the scars to prove you fought for what you wanted.
Give Jean and Barbara hugs. You already know how important they are... you have no clue how much you will value what they've given you later on, though.
That baby sister of yours... kiss her sweet head. She will grow up so fast. Too fast. You will love her like your own. You already know this, even if it scares you to feel that way about her. She will always be one of the most important people in your world. She will be able to count on you to love her, even when she fails, and she needs that.
Remember that life is not something you can plan. It's not a route on a map you can plot out in advance, or plug into a GPS (you'll know what that is someday). Life is similar to a road trip, though. You can plan to go certain places, but then something comes up... and detours can lead you places you never dreamed. Sometimes, you'll still try to get back to the original destination... but other times you will realize that what you've stumbled upon accidentally is actually so much better than what you'd planned for yourself.
Take a deep breath and dive in. Life is never easy, but you have so much love to look forward to in the future.
Love,
Juliet
Dear Katya,
This is yourself, in the future. You've given up the name Katya, but you still have nicknames and pen names. Juliet is your favorite of these.
I'm sure you're skeptical. It's in your nature, though you aren't yet skeptical enough. So, here's a little something to prove it's me.
"Sometimes you wanna go where everybody knows your name..."
That should get the job done.
It's a good guess that Jason has recently dumped you again. I'm sure you're frustrated and hurt, but let me tell you this... you will soon understand him better, and soon you're gonna realize you deserve more than he'll ever be able to give you.
Life has been challenging for you. I wish I could say that it gets less challenging, but the truth is, you have so many obstacles to overcome ahead of you. Just know that they make you a stronger person. You will learn to stand up for yourself, and you will learn to walk away from situations and people that hurt you.
There's a man you will meet. I won't say when, but suffice it to say, you'll know when you meet him. I know you have a huge crush on someone else right now... but he's not the right choice. I do wish you believed enough in yourself to see that he is completely into you, but you're not ready to take that step yet. Someday, you wiil be ready, and you'll put it all on the line for this amazing man. You'll dance in the rain and cry in the rain, and in the end, you'll stand with him on a rock in the desert and become his forever.
Life doesn't get easier just because we get older. Nor do people stop being dysfunctional just because you move far away from them (and you will). It won't matter, though... your life is so full of love that comparatively speaking, everything bad that happens will seem less awful. You will have someone to hold you when you cry.
Fantasies you've barely dared to imagine will come true for you. You will write a book - one you actually finish. Oh, and you're going to use a computer for that. I'm serious. I'm sure you're laughing, but it's true. Even more, you're going to rebuild your computer when your motherboard dies. I'm pretty sure I can hear your snorts of laughter from the past... but it's going to happen, thanks to that guy.
There will be this girl. You'll meet her in a totally unexpected way, and she will become part of the life you share with him. It will sound strange to you now, but you will love her... and so will he. She will teach you that love does not have boundaries or limits, and you will love him all the more because of her prescence in your life. She will give you gifts that have no value because they transcend tangible goods.
Your heart will break in ways you never imagined possible. What you've gone through with Jason will be laughable (and plenty will laugh, believe me). You will realize you never knew what love was... and your poetry will improve because you'll have someone - something - real to write about.
This man will help you piece your heart back together... if you let him. If you don't hide inside yourself and try to pretend, as you so often do now, that everything is just fine. It's okay to let him see you cry. He loves you. He will do whatever he can to make you smile through your tears, and he will succeed. But when he doesn't, when the pain is just too raw, he'll just hold you and love you through it.
I know it sounds like a pipe dream to you now. Just keep your heart and mind open. You will stumble, you will fall, you will hurt... and dreams you've had your entire live will die. When you graduate in June, you will get a book by Dr. Seuss called Oh, The Places You'll Go! You will love this book, and you need to remember the wisdom it has to offer you. You will need to remember that sometimes you lose... but that it is possible to win even when that happens. You can fail from lack of trying, or you can fight for what you want. Even if you fail, at least you've put in the effort. At least you have the scars to prove you fought for what you wanted.
Give Jean and Barbara hugs. You already know how important they are... you have no clue how much you will value what they've given you later on, though.
That baby sister of yours... kiss her sweet head. She will grow up so fast. Too fast. You will love her like your own. You already know this, even if it scares you to feel that way about her. She will always be one of the most important people in your world. She will be able to count on you to love her, even when she fails, and she needs that.
Remember that life is not something you can plan. It's not a route on a map you can plot out in advance, or plug into a GPS (you'll know what that is someday). Life is similar to a road trip, though. You can plan to go certain places, but then something comes up... and detours can lead you places you never dreamed. Sometimes, you'll still try to get back to the original destination... but other times you will realize that what you've stumbled upon accidentally is actually so much better than what you'd planned for yourself.
Take a deep breath and dive in. Life is never easy, but you have so much love to look forward to in the future.
Love,
Juliet
Sunday, October 25, 2009
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Day 20
We breathe in synch
Him and I
Beside each other in bed
As though we were oxygen for each other
My lips against his mingle
The dance familiar and comforting
Yet as thrilling as that first time
When they met so long ago
Love is not enough to say
He is so much more than love
He is life
His heart beating matches mine
He is always beside me
No matter where he goes
I am in his arms at night
And he is in mine
Him and I
Beside each other in bed
As though we were oxygen for each other
My lips against his mingle
The dance familiar and comforting
Yet as thrilling as that first time
When they met so long ago
Love is not enough to say
He is so much more than love
He is life
His heart beating matches mine
He is always beside me
No matter where he goes
I am in his arms at night
And he is in mine
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Day 18
I watch him sleep, curled up tightly
His arm snaked around my waist
And if I move even slightly,
He draws me closer to him
Dark lashes on moonlit skin
His mouth relaxed and perfect
It begs me for a kiss
But I do not want to awaken him
I touch his cheek, and he softly stirs
His fingers lace through my own
He holds firmly, but gently
In sleep he is a contradiction
His embrace is my haven
When the world around me is chaos
When nothing feels right
I find solace in his arms, where I belong
His arm snaked around my waist
And if I move even slightly,
He draws me closer to him
Dark lashes on moonlit skin
His mouth relaxed and perfect
It begs me for a kiss
But I do not want to awaken him
I touch his cheek, and he softly stirs
His fingers lace through my own
He holds firmly, but gently
In sleep he is a contradiction
His embrace is my haven
When the world around me is chaos
When nothing feels right
I find solace in his arms, where I belong
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Day Seventeen
She awoke to a gray sky... the kind tinged with blue, which in winter almost always meant snow was on the way. She shivered when she put her bare feet on the stone floor. It was just after sunrise, and she'd barely slept the night before. She couldn't get what had happened to stop playing like a bad movie behind her closed eyes.
She didn't know how she could've been so stupid. She looked down at her hand. The skin where her wedding band once rested was so brightly white compared to the rest of her hand that it was like a neon sign screaming of failure.
Love was tenuous, she decided. Fragile and challenging and maybe not worth the effort. She didn't know. Or maybe her friends were right. Maybe her mother was right. She never should've married him in the first place. They were a mismatch from the beginning. He was Mr. Social. Wanted a career in politics. She was the shy, quiet librarian at the high school. She wasn't cut out for life in the spotlight, and she'd told him that at the start. He promised her he'd keep her life private, but he couldn't keep his private. Oh, but he had a silver tongue. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it, which was undoubtedly why he'd been elected mayor of their small town when he was only 25.
They met when he came to the high school to speak to the students about politics and ways they could help make a difference - even before they were old enough to vote. She was in charge of the voter registration table where students over 18 were encouraged to sign up. She was captivated by his speech, and she wasn't afraid to admit that his amazingly good looks influenced her judgment. While not an unattractive woman, she knew she wasn't a beauty. She was rather plain, to be frank. Her hair was a nondescript brown and her curls generally misbehaved in the humid weather. She typically wore it up in a bun. It was just easier that way. She had decent skin and a nice smile, but she knew the only standout feature she possessed were her eyes. They were tortoiseshell hazel... green with specks of a bright brown around her pupils. If she bothered with makeup, she could've been called pretty, but she knew it was only because of her eyes.
So when Duncan MacCloud came to her table and began to talk to her, she was a bit stunned. When he asked her if he could call her sometime, she knew her jaw had fallen open in surprise. It wasn't something Duncan missed. He quickly apologized if he'd crossed a line.
"I'm sorry. I don't see a wedding band, so I assumed you were single. Please forgive my forwardness," he'd said.
She found her tongue and somehow managed to assure him she wasn't married and would love for him to call her. She wrote her phone number and name down on the back of a voter registration card, and he'd made some quip about getting her vote. She'd laughed. He was charming, gorgeous and shockingly interested in her. She was flabbergasted.
On their first date, he rented a helicopter and took her on an aerial tool of Manhattan. He gave her champagne, and introduced her to caviar. She was surprised to like it, but she did. She also liked him. She was scared of her feelings towards him. He knew that, and was very slow to make a move.
At the end of their date, he leaned in and kissed her mouth lightly. She all but melted into his embrace, and shocked herself by deepening the kiss. He extricated himself from her arms and stepped off her front porch.
As he turned to walk away, he said, "Becca, you astound me." Before she could reply, he was in his car driving away.
They saw a lot of each other. Within weeks, they were inseparable. She knew she was in love with him. She just didn't know what to do with that information. She called her best friend and poured her heart out. Jenny just laughed at her.
"You act like you've never had a boyfriend, Becca. He's just a man. An incredibly gorgeous, well-off man... and you'd be an idiot to let him get away."
Jenny took Becca lingerie shopping. Becca had never set foot in a Victoria's Secret before. She felt her face turn scarlet as she looked at the many options. She finally settled, over Jenny's protests that she was a prude, on a pretty bra and panties set. She wasn't a prude. She had never owned undergarments so skimpy in her life!
Duncan was infinitely patient with Becca. He took her on extravagant dates, and one night she asked him to come to her house. She wanted to cook for him. She had spent a summer abroad in Paris and had taken cooking classes at a prestigious culinary school. She made pate, home baked French bread, a seafood bouillabaisse and a chocolate souffle for dessert.
Duncan arrived with a simple bouquet of daises - her favorite flower. She smiled as she put them in a vase. She had decided tonight would be the night. She had on her new lingerie. She wasn't inexperienced, exactly... there'd been one guy before. Her high school sweetheart. She and Chris had broken up after three years when they picked colleges on opposite ends of the country. Jenny had been teasing her ever since about not getting over her first love.
Well, she was over him now... and completely smitten with Duncan. She served the pate with warm chunks of French bread. She sliced more to put on the table to go with the seafood entree. He told her how amazing everything tasted. After dinner, they went to her living room. It was December, and she had her Christmas tree lights on. He built a fire, and the snuggled on cushions on the floor under a blanket.
Before long, their kisses became deeper and more passionate than they'd ever been. She pressed her body into his. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was being wanton. She simply didn't care. Her mouth found his neck, and she kissed eagerly while he moaned.
"You make me crazy," he whispered in her ear. "I've never wanted any woman so badly."
Shivers of delight snaked up her spine. She was exquisitely happy, and could not wait to feel him inside her. She suddenly found herself on top of him, writhing and eager, but still fully clothed.
"Wait," he said, as he gently lifted her off of him. "I need to do something first."
Confused, and slightly embarrassed, she sat up and did not meet his gaze for several moments. He touched her chin, and pulled her face up so their eyes met.
"I love you, Becca. I've loved you for some time now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue box that she knew was from Tiffany. He opened the box to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. "Marry me."
Tears filled Becca's eyes, and she found she could not speak. She nodded her yes, and he slipped the ring on her finger. His mouth found hers, and soon they were completely lost in one anothers' bodies.
(end Part I)
She didn't know how she could've been so stupid. She looked down at her hand. The skin where her wedding band once rested was so brightly white compared to the rest of her hand that it was like a neon sign screaming of failure.
Love was tenuous, she decided. Fragile and challenging and maybe not worth the effort. She didn't know. Or maybe her friends were right. Maybe her mother was right. She never should've married him in the first place. They were a mismatch from the beginning. He was Mr. Social. Wanted a career in politics. She was the shy, quiet librarian at the high school. She wasn't cut out for life in the spotlight, and she'd told him that at the start. He promised her he'd keep her life private, but he couldn't keep his private. Oh, but he had a silver tongue. He knew exactly what to say and how to say it, which was undoubtedly why he'd been elected mayor of their small town when he was only 25.
They met when he came to the high school to speak to the students about politics and ways they could help make a difference - even before they were old enough to vote. She was in charge of the voter registration table where students over 18 were encouraged to sign up. She was captivated by his speech, and she wasn't afraid to admit that his amazingly good looks influenced her judgment. While not an unattractive woman, she knew she wasn't a beauty. She was rather plain, to be frank. Her hair was a nondescript brown and her curls generally misbehaved in the humid weather. She typically wore it up in a bun. It was just easier that way. She had decent skin and a nice smile, but she knew the only standout feature she possessed were her eyes. They were tortoiseshell hazel... green with specks of a bright brown around her pupils. If she bothered with makeup, she could've been called pretty, but she knew it was only because of her eyes.
So when Duncan MacCloud came to her table and began to talk to her, she was a bit stunned. When he asked her if he could call her sometime, she knew her jaw had fallen open in surprise. It wasn't something Duncan missed. He quickly apologized if he'd crossed a line.
"I'm sorry. I don't see a wedding band, so I assumed you were single. Please forgive my forwardness," he'd said.
She found her tongue and somehow managed to assure him she wasn't married and would love for him to call her. She wrote her phone number and name down on the back of a voter registration card, and he'd made some quip about getting her vote. She'd laughed. He was charming, gorgeous and shockingly interested in her. She was flabbergasted.
On their first date, he rented a helicopter and took her on an aerial tool of Manhattan. He gave her champagne, and introduced her to caviar. She was surprised to like it, but she did. She also liked him. She was scared of her feelings towards him. He knew that, and was very slow to make a move.
At the end of their date, he leaned in and kissed her mouth lightly. She all but melted into his embrace, and shocked herself by deepening the kiss. He extricated himself from her arms and stepped off her front porch.
As he turned to walk away, he said, "Becca, you astound me." Before she could reply, he was in his car driving away.
They saw a lot of each other. Within weeks, they were inseparable. She knew she was in love with him. She just didn't know what to do with that information. She called her best friend and poured her heart out. Jenny just laughed at her.
"You act like you've never had a boyfriend, Becca. He's just a man. An incredibly gorgeous, well-off man... and you'd be an idiot to let him get away."
Jenny took Becca lingerie shopping. Becca had never set foot in a Victoria's Secret before. She felt her face turn scarlet as she looked at the many options. She finally settled, over Jenny's protests that she was a prude, on a pretty bra and panties set. She wasn't a prude. She had never owned undergarments so skimpy in her life!
Duncan was infinitely patient with Becca. He took her on extravagant dates, and one night she asked him to come to her house. She wanted to cook for him. She had spent a summer abroad in Paris and had taken cooking classes at a prestigious culinary school. She made pate, home baked French bread, a seafood bouillabaisse and a chocolate souffle for dessert.
Duncan arrived with a simple bouquet of daises - her favorite flower. She smiled as she put them in a vase. She had decided tonight would be the night. She had on her new lingerie. She wasn't inexperienced, exactly... there'd been one guy before. Her high school sweetheart. She and Chris had broken up after three years when they picked colleges on opposite ends of the country. Jenny had been teasing her ever since about not getting over her first love.
Well, she was over him now... and completely smitten with Duncan. She served the pate with warm chunks of French bread. She sliced more to put on the table to go with the seafood entree. He told her how amazing everything tasted. After dinner, they went to her living room. It was December, and she had her Christmas tree lights on. He built a fire, and the snuggled on cushions on the floor under a blanket.
Before long, their kisses became deeper and more passionate than they'd ever been. She pressed her body into his. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew she was being wanton. She simply didn't care. Her mouth found his neck, and she kissed eagerly while he moaned.
"You make me crazy," he whispered in her ear. "I've never wanted any woman so badly."
Shivers of delight snaked up her spine. She was exquisitely happy, and could not wait to feel him inside her. She suddenly found herself on top of him, writhing and eager, but still fully clothed.
"Wait," he said, as he gently lifted her off of him. "I need to do something first."
Confused, and slightly embarrassed, she sat up and did not meet his gaze for several moments. He touched her chin, and pulled her face up so their eyes met.
"I love you, Becca. I've loved you for some time now." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a blue box that she knew was from Tiffany. He opened the box to reveal a sparkling diamond ring. "Marry me."
Tears filled Becca's eyes, and she found she could not speak. She nodded her yes, and he slipped the ring on her finger. His mouth found hers, and soon they were completely lost in one anothers' bodies.
(end Part I)
Monday, October 12, 2009
Day Sixteen
Insecurity is a malicious beast. It feeds off self-perpetuating beliefs. It makes you do incredibly stupid things that hurt the people you love, the people who love you...
I fear loss. I fear abandonment. I sometimes don't feel worthy of the love I have in my life. I sometimes think I am not good enough.
The problem is, when you combine those fears and feelings of worthlessness with insecurity, you do seriously fucked up shit. Sometimes, you do stuff that makes you wonder if you aren't trying to prove to yourself that you're not worth it... that you don't deserve it. Sometimes, you do stuff that betrays the trust and faith people have put in you.
You can't fix it. You can't undo it. What has been done is done... and now you have to hope like hell that somehow they'll forgive what is really unforgivable. You have to hope like hell that they will learn to trust you again... and yet you understand why they may not.
At the end of the day, there is nothing you can do. You're powerless.
Trust is like fine crystal. It is emotionally expensive and very fragile. Once it's broken, it can be damn near impossible to repair.
Now you wait. You wait and hope they love you enough to realize you've made a mistake you won't repeat. You hope they love you more than you deserve... because after what you've done, you actually don't deserve as much as they've given you. After what you've done, you don't deserve trust.
You know all of this. You will suffer alone while he thinks. You will suffer alone while you wait. It is part of the consequences of your actions, and you know that it is your own fault... and it hurts. You hurt knowing how badly you've hurt them. You hurt knowing that you've broken his heart. You hurt like hell and deserve to feel every ounce of remorse and self-loathing.
There are mistakes and there are mistakes. This is the latter of the two sort.
So, you sit and wait... and hope to be whole again, knowing you may never again be complete, knowing you may have irreparably broken the most important thing in your life.
I fear loss. I fear abandonment. I sometimes don't feel worthy of the love I have in my life. I sometimes think I am not good enough.
The problem is, when you combine those fears and feelings of worthlessness with insecurity, you do seriously fucked up shit. Sometimes, you do stuff that makes you wonder if you aren't trying to prove to yourself that you're not worth it... that you don't deserve it. Sometimes, you do stuff that betrays the trust and faith people have put in you.
You can't fix it. You can't undo it. What has been done is done... and now you have to hope like hell that somehow they'll forgive what is really unforgivable. You have to hope like hell that they will learn to trust you again... and yet you understand why they may not.
At the end of the day, there is nothing you can do. You're powerless.
Trust is like fine crystal. It is emotionally expensive and very fragile. Once it's broken, it can be damn near impossible to repair.
Now you wait. You wait and hope they love you enough to realize you've made a mistake you won't repeat. You hope they love you more than you deserve... because after what you've done, you actually don't deserve as much as they've given you. After what you've done, you don't deserve trust.
You know all of this. You will suffer alone while he thinks. You will suffer alone while you wait. It is part of the consequences of your actions, and you know that it is your own fault... and it hurts. You hurt knowing how badly you've hurt them. You hurt knowing that you've broken his heart. You hurt like hell and deserve to feel every ounce of remorse and self-loathing.
There are mistakes and there are mistakes. This is the latter of the two sort.
So, you sit and wait... and hope to be whole again, knowing you may never again be complete, knowing you may have irreparably broken the most important thing in your life.
Day Fifteen
Dear Kaity,
Today you are 18, and I just cannot believe that. I don't know how you grew up so fast. I feel like it was just moments ago that I was babysitting you while mommy worked and tugging your ponytail - and telling you it was my Pet Pony. You'd giggle and it just lit up my world to make you laugh.
You have not had an easy few years. I know that you're facing some major challenges ahead, too. Just for today, though. I want you to not think about the past and not worry about the future. Today is a day to celebrate your life. Given how close you've come to losing it over the past few years, it is a major celebration.
I love you so much. I hope you know how much you mean to me... how much I will always love you, no matter what. I have refused to give up on you and have spent most of your life fighting for you. Do you know why? Your very existence saved mine. I was lost when I found out mommy was having you. You were born, this perfect, tiny person... and you needed me. You needed me to be strong and to fight for you. I gained courage and strength through your very existence.
I have loved you like my own child, and I have loved you like my sister. This has created an interesting dynamic in our relationship... but for the most part, it's been a positive thing for both of us.
I miss you every single day. My walls are covered in your pictures, and when I see your face smiling at me, I just miss you that much more... but it also makes me happy to see that smile, especially knowing your smiles have been fewer and further between these past few years.
I hope you know how special you are... and not just to me. You matter to a lot of people, and especially to that baby you will have next year. Your life is going to change dramatically, and I will be there as much as I can be to talk to you when you're scared or lost. I am always here for you, not matter the distance between us.
I wish I could be there to celebrate with you. I'm gonna have a Halloween cupcake and think of you all day long.
I wish you a year of joy, peace and hope. I wish you a lifetime of these things...
Happy birthday, little sister.
Love,
Jessie
Today you are 18, and I just cannot believe that. I don't know how you grew up so fast. I feel like it was just moments ago that I was babysitting you while mommy worked and tugging your ponytail - and telling you it was my Pet Pony. You'd giggle and it just lit up my world to make you laugh.
You have not had an easy few years. I know that you're facing some major challenges ahead, too. Just for today, though. I want you to not think about the past and not worry about the future. Today is a day to celebrate your life. Given how close you've come to losing it over the past few years, it is a major celebration.
I love you so much. I hope you know how much you mean to me... how much I will always love you, no matter what. I have refused to give up on you and have spent most of your life fighting for you. Do you know why? Your very existence saved mine. I was lost when I found out mommy was having you. You were born, this perfect, tiny person... and you needed me. You needed me to be strong and to fight for you. I gained courage and strength through your very existence.
I have loved you like my own child, and I have loved you like my sister. This has created an interesting dynamic in our relationship... but for the most part, it's been a positive thing for both of us.
I miss you every single day. My walls are covered in your pictures, and when I see your face smiling at me, I just miss you that much more... but it also makes me happy to see that smile, especially knowing your smiles have been fewer and further between these past few years.
I hope you know how special you are... and not just to me. You matter to a lot of people, and especially to that baby you will have next year. Your life is going to change dramatically, and I will be there as much as I can be to talk to you when you're scared or lost. I am always here for you, not matter the distance between us.
I wish I could be there to celebrate with you. I'm gonna have a Halloween cupcake and think of you all day long.
I wish you a year of joy, peace and hope. I wish you a lifetime of these things...
Happy birthday, little sister.
Love,
Jessie
Saturday, October 10, 2009
Day Fourteen
Dear Dream Child,
I am writing you this letter knowing you will never exist. I have imagined you so clearly, so often. You have your Daddy's hazel eyes and long eyelashes. You have my mouth. Despite having always wanted a daughter, I usually dream of you as a boy. A little boy who is adored and happy, and who never doubts for a moment he is loved. One time, I dreamt of you... and you'd just been born. You were named Thomas, but we called you Tommy. I held you on our bed and you had your tiny fingers wrapped around one of mine. Your Daddy looked so happy as I passed you to him... but then I woke up, and you were gone. My beautiful son... just a dream.
I knew I might never have you. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Still, when we started to try to make you a reality, I believed. I really, really believed it would happen... that you would be realized. Month after month, I was face to face with the bitter reality of a dream not meant to be for reasons that don't exist.
I do not believe in a god, and I refuse to believe in one cruel enough to get a fourteen year-old girl pregnant when a married 33 year old woman doesn't. I refuse to believe in a god who is malicious enough to give children to junkies and abusers but not to parents who would love them and adore them. Some might say that not having you is my punishment from the god I don't believe in... they can go to the hell I don't believe in.
When I hold the baby I nanny for... when her sweet little smile lights up my day... I think of you. I think of how happy you would've made me. No matter how hard it may have been, I know I'd have been a good mother because I know what it is like to not have that. I know how much it hurts when you feel like your parents don't care about you... like you're not really all that consequential in their lives. I'd never have wanted you to feel that for even a second, and I'd have done all that I could to ensure you never did.
I dreamed of reading you my favorite stories. Peter Pan. Green Eggs & Ham. The one I can never remember the name of about the house that is in the country until the country becomes the city... and the house misses the country and misses being loved... but then is again. When I imagine you as a girl, I dream of sharing the wisdom of Judy Blume with you. I imagine long talks... and tears when your heart first breaks... and joy when you meet the person you will spend your life with. I imagine you dancing with your Daddy on your wedding day. I imagine him scaring the crap out of potential boyfriends and never believing anyone to be good enough for his little girl.
I dream of your hair being like mine... curly and thick. I imagine braiding it for your first day of school. I imagine putting band aids on imaginary wounds... and real ones, too. I imagine panicking when you start to walk and fall down - just as I do when Allie falls down.
I think of the boundaries I'd set, and know that you'd fight them. I know that on some deep level, as frustrating as I'd find that, I'd also admire that quality. I'd admire your independence, and never want to squash it or your dreams.
I imagine your high school and college graduations... though if you didn't want to go to college, and wanted to find another way to live your life, I'd support you in every way I could without trying to make you into who I thought you should become. I'd want you only to be you... and I'd want you to be true to yourself, true to your dreams.
When some of your dreams never came true, and you needed to cry... I'd be there. I know that pain all too well, and I'd hold you and let you rant and cry it out. Or I'd give you the quiet space you needed to work through the pain on your own, and I'd know you well enough to determine which you needed.
I'd help you pick up the pieces and encourage you to find new dreams... because life without dreams is dreary and dull.
Most of all, I'd love you. I'd love you so much... the sweet child I will never hold. I love you anyway, even knowing you'll never be more than a dream.
You've become one of those dreams I know I need to let go of... I can't hold you any longer, but saying goodbye is so hard. You were all I wanted even before I knew your Daddy. You were a dream before he was a reality, but he just made the dream that much sweeter... he helped me see that I could be a good mother, and I saw clearly how amazing he'd be as a father. We'd make mistakes, because all parents do... but we'd own those mistakes and work towards fixing them... and we'd do so together, as a unified front.
I love you... I'm sorry you won't be realized. I will never forget the dream of you... but I have to say goodbye now.
Love,
Mommy
I am writing you this letter knowing you will never exist. I have imagined you so clearly, so often. You have your Daddy's hazel eyes and long eyelashes. You have my mouth. Despite having always wanted a daughter, I usually dream of you as a boy. A little boy who is adored and happy, and who never doubts for a moment he is loved. One time, I dreamt of you... and you'd just been born. You were named Thomas, but we called you Tommy. I held you on our bed and you had your tiny fingers wrapped around one of mine. Your Daddy looked so happy as I passed you to him... but then I woke up, and you were gone. My beautiful son... just a dream.
I knew I might never have you. I don't know how I knew, but I did. Still, when we started to try to make you a reality, I believed. I really, really believed it would happen... that you would be realized. Month after month, I was face to face with the bitter reality of a dream not meant to be for reasons that don't exist.
I do not believe in a god, and I refuse to believe in one cruel enough to get a fourteen year-old girl pregnant when a married 33 year old woman doesn't. I refuse to believe in a god who is malicious enough to give children to junkies and abusers but not to parents who would love them and adore them. Some might say that not having you is my punishment from the god I don't believe in... they can go to the hell I don't believe in.
When I hold the baby I nanny for... when her sweet little smile lights up my day... I think of you. I think of how happy you would've made me. No matter how hard it may have been, I know I'd have been a good mother because I know what it is like to not have that. I know how much it hurts when you feel like your parents don't care about you... like you're not really all that consequential in their lives. I'd never have wanted you to feel that for even a second, and I'd have done all that I could to ensure you never did.
I dreamed of reading you my favorite stories. Peter Pan. Green Eggs & Ham. The one I can never remember the name of about the house that is in the country until the country becomes the city... and the house misses the country and misses being loved... but then is again. When I imagine you as a girl, I dream of sharing the wisdom of Judy Blume with you. I imagine long talks... and tears when your heart first breaks... and joy when you meet the person you will spend your life with. I imagine you dancing with your Daddy on your wedding day. I imagine him scaring the crap out of potential boyfriends and never believing anyone to be good enough for his little girl.
I dream of your hair being like mine... curly and thick. I imagine braiding it for your first day of school. I imagine putting band aids on imaginary wounds... and real ones, too. I imagine panicking when you start to walk and fall down - just as I do when Allie falls down.
I think of the boundaries I'd set, and know that you'd fight them. I know that on some deep level, as frustrating as I'd find that, I'd also admire that quality. I'd admire your independence, and never want to squash it or your dreams.
I imagine your high school and college graduations... though if you didn't want to go to college, and wanted to find another way to live your life, I'd support you in every way I could without trying to make you into who I thought you should become. I'd want you only to be you... and I'd want you to be true to yourself, true to your dreams.
When some of your dreams never came true, and you needed to cry... I'd be there. I know that pain all too well, and I'd hold you and let you rant and cry it out. Or I'd give you the quiet space you needed to work through the pain on your own, and I'd know you well enough to determine which you needed.
I'd help you pick up the pieces and encourage you to find new dreams... because life without dreams is dreary and dull.
Most of all, I'd love you. I'd love you so much... the sweet child I will never hold. I love you anyway, even knowing you'll never be more than a dream.
You've become one of those dreams I know I need to let go of... I can't hold you any longer, but saying goodbye is so hard. You were all I wanted even before I knew your Daddy. You were a dream before he was a reality, but he just made the dream that much sweeter... he helped me see that I could be a good mother, and I saw clearly how amazing he'd be as a father. We'd make mistakes, because all parents do... but we'd own those mistakes and work towards fixing them... and we'd do so together, as a unified front.
I love you... I'm sorry you won't be realized. I will never forget the dream of you... but I have to say goodbye now.
Love,
Mommy
Day Thirteen
Love is...
Knowing when to let go
Knowing when to hold on
Knowing you're not alone
Feeling warm inside when it's cold
Being part of something bigger than yourself
Learning
Trusting
Hope
Charity
Beauty
Honesty
Sharing
Joy
Freeing
Being able to be yourself
Laughter
Tears
Pain
Life
Passion
Longing
Needing
Wanting
Giving
And in the end, it transcends words and definition. No matter how prosey I get, it's not something that words can ever do justice... and I am lucky to have so much of it.
Knowing when to let go
Knowing when to hold on
Knowing you're not alone
Feeling warm inside when it's cold
Being part of something bigger than yourself
Learning
Trusting
Hope
Charity
Beauty
Honesty
Sharing
Joy
Freeing
Being able to be yourself
Laughter
Tears
Pain
Life
Passion
Longing
Needing
Wanting
Giving
And in the end, it transcends words and definition. No matter how prosey I get, it's not something that words can ever do justice... and I am lucky to have so much of it.
Day Twelve
Kiss me... these two words repeated themselves in her mind as she walked with her hand in his. All she wanted was to know the feel of his mouth on hers. She'd kissed others... her fair share, she thought. Enough to know that it would be beyond amazing when - if - he kissed her. She wanted to kiss him, but she was a little too shy and a little too scared. He could be her everything. Four hours wandering around the museum and she knew this... knew it on a level so deep, it terrified her.
She wasn't looking for everything. She was young, and had just started to break free of the chains of fear so many tried to shackle her with. She wasn't ready... but there he was, hazel eyes twinkling in the dimly lit Islamic Wing. He was everything she'd dreamed of, and then some. Could she take the chance? Dare to give her heart, and not worry about the consequences?
By the time dinner was delivered to his apartment, she knew there was no need to ask the question. She had little choice. She could run, scared like a rabbit... or she could let herself feel, let herself live. To do so meant loving him... and accepting the risks that came with this knowledge. To run meant giving up on herself, on what she knew she wanted for her life.
She knew there was no choice to make. She'd made herself a promise, not a month before, to start actually living life. To start experiencing it daily. This was going to be one hell of a ride, but she sensed, after their marathon ten hour first date, that it wouldn't end anytime soon... and that it would be the best risk she ever took.
Nearly eleven years later, she sat staring at her wedding rings... and knew, with absolute conviction, that if she'd walked away, it would've been the biggest mistake in her life.
She wasn't looking for everything. She was young, and had just started to break free of the chains of fear so many tried to shackle her with. She wasn't ready... but there he was, hazel eyes twinkling in the dimly lit Islamic Wing. He was everything she'd dreamed of, and then some. Could she take the chance? Dare to give her heart, and not worry about the consequences?
By the time dinner was delivered to his apartment, she knew there was no need to ask the question. She had little choice. She could run, scared like a rabbit... or she could let herself feel, let herself live. To do so meant loving him... and accepting the risks that came with this knowledge. To run meant giving up on herself, on what she knew she wanted for her life.
She knew there was no choice to make. She'd made herself a promise, not a month before, to start actually living life. To start experiencing it daily. This was going to be one hell of a ride, but she sensed, after their marathon ten hour first date, that it wouldn't end anytime soon... and that it would be the best risk she ever took.
Nearly eleven years later, she sat staring at her wedding rings... and knew, with absolute conviction, that if she'd walked away, it would've been the biggest mistake in her life.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
Tuesday, October 6, 2009
Monday, October 5, 2009
Day Eight
The morning air was heavy with autumn; crisp and cool, like the apple cider in the cup beside her keyboard. Outside, birds sang as they dined on the sunflower seeds in the bird feeders kept fully stocked by her husband. She loved this time of year. Most people she knew saw autumn as the death of summer, but she saw it as the beginning. The leaves falling off did not symbolize an ending to her, but rather the start of a new cycle. The trees would sleep for a time, and then buds would appear, and soon new leaves, bright with the hope of another spring. The leaves that fell to the ground carried with them unrecognized dreams and sorrow... and left behind a blank slate, for starting anew.
Yes, she saw autumn as a renaissance of sorts... a rebirth of imagination. Perhaps it came from the blank pages of notebooks bought for a new school year. Perhaps it stemmed from a childhood that involved a lot of moving, and a lot of starting fresh at a different school. For whatever reason, she just could not be sad when autumn finally slipped in at summer's end. To her, it was a time of celebration.
The first sight of pumpkins at the store made her smile, as it had when she was a child. The cup of cider she now sipped warmed her spirits, even when served cold. Few things made her happier than the day back-to-school supplies appeared in seasonal aisles at stores, and when those faded to Halloween displays, she dreamed of what she'd dress as - even when she didn't actually plan to wear a costume.
She bit into a pumpkin spice donut, and glanced outside. The sky was bright and blue, and off in the distance, Mount Logan wore a new blanket of white. Winter would arrive soon in Colorado. The last official day of summer had marked the first measurable snowfall of the season. She wouldn't think of winter now, though. Not while the trees still whispered of autumn... not before the end of October, when the Halloween displays turned to Christmas ones. No, for now she would revel in the golden glory that was autumn. She swallowed her last sip of cider, and took the last bite of her donut. It was time to start the day... and already it had such a lovely beginning.
Yes, she saw autumn as a renaissance of sorts... a rebirth of imagination. Perhaps it came from the blank pages of notebooks bought for a new school year. Perhaps it stemmed from a childhood that involved a lot of moving, and a lot of starting fresh at a different school. For whatever reason, she just could not be sad when autumn finally slipped in at summer's end. To her, it was a time of celebration.
The first sight of pumpkins at the store made her smile, as it had when she was a child. The cup of cider she now sipped warmed her spirits, even when served cold. Few things made her happier than the day back-to-school supplies appeared in seasonal aisles at stores, and when those faded to Halloween displays, she dreamed of what she'd dress as - even when she didn't actually plan to wear a costume.
She bit into a pumpkin spice donut, and glanced outside. The sky was bright and blue, and off in the distance, Mount Logan wore a new blanket of white. Winter would arrive soon in Colorado. The last official day of summer had marked the first measurable snowfall of the season. She wouldn't think of winter now, though. Not while the trees still whispered of autumn... not before the end of October, when the Halloween displays turned to Christmas ones. No, for now she would revel in the golden glory that was autumn. She swallowed her last sip of cider, and took the last bite of her donut. It was time to start the day... and already it had such a lovely beginning.
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Friday, October 2, 2009
Day Five
This is actually a response to a discussion question in the curriculum course I'm currently taking. However, I felt it was worthy of being shared, and since I have the flu, I'm cutting myself some slack. ;)
When I think of reading, a simple one-word definition comes to mind: Freedom. Reading allows us freedom to pursue dreams. It gives us the chance to escape our world and go into someone else's, either fictional or real. Through books and stories, we learn more about who we are and what we value. Essays and magazine articles can help us determine what we believe in, and who we want to become as we grow.
For me, reading was an escape from a miserable childhood. I took books out of the library in mass quantities. I disappeared into a story and forgot about my troubles, or realized there were people with worse ones. I learned to be strong through the words of others. I discovered my own passion for narration, and frequently went through my day narrating events in my head, as though I was writing a novel of my own.
Without the ability to read, our lives are so limited. We are trapped in whatever situation we've been born into, with little hope for escape. I say this not only because without the ability to read, career paths are very limited, but also because imagination is limited when you cannot read.
When someone tells me they don't enjoy reading, I am utterly baffled. I simply can't imagine that notion. I usually figure they've just been reading the wrong stuff!
When I think of reading, a simple one-word definition comes to mind: Freedom. Reading allows us freedom to pursue dreams. It gives us the chance to escape our world and go into someone else's, either fictional or real. Through books and stories, we learn more about who we are and what we value. Essays and magazine articles can help us determine what we believe in, and who we want to become as we grow.
For me, reading was an escape from a miserable childhood. I took books out of the library in mass quantities. I disappeared into a story and forgot about my troubles, or realized there were people with worse ones. I learned to be strong through the words of others. I discovered my own passion for narration, and frequently went through my day narrating events in my head, as though I was writing a novel of my own.
Without the ability to read, our lives are so limited. We are trapped in whatever situation we've been born into, with little hope for escape. I say this not only because without the ability to read, career paths are very limited, but also because imagination is limited when you cannot read.
When someone tells me they don't enjoy reading, I am utterly baffled. I simply can't imagine that notion. I usually figure they've just been reading the wrong stuff!
Day Four
People always ask me what it's like to live with fibromyalgia. So, I am going to attempt to describe the feelings.
For me, the first sign something was wrong happened at night. I tossed and turned. I had vivid and bizarre nightmares (like the one where I was supposed to poison Niles fro Frasier, and I was very upset about it). Sleep quickly became an enemy. I was constantly tired. I began to feel sore everywhere, especially in my shoulders and neck.
Initially, the doctor I saw said it was probably my weight and possible sleep apnea. I was tested, shortly after moving to Colorado. I did not have enough apnea episodes (everyone has some). I was considered to NOT have sleep apnea. They did, however, notice that I didn't seem to cycle through the stages of sleep properly. I would start to dream very quickly, which typically happens in REM sleep. The problem is, I never went into the stages of so-called "deep-sleep." So, I woke up exhausted, and because of my dreams, I felt as though I'd been going all night long.
I ignored my symptoms. Pain began to wake me - probably in part because I no longer was able to achieve deep sleep. At one point, I joined a gym. I did 40 minutes on the treadmill three or four times a week. Everyone told me exercise would equate better sleep. It didn't. Worse, I wound up injured. After about four months, my left knee began to be a major problem. I had to stop working out and started physical therapy. This was my second clue that something was wrong.
The physical therapist I saw told me that the problem I had was not actually my knee. She explained the the muscles in my thigh were so tight they were pulling on the knee cap and making it hurt. I worked with her for a few weeks, but then scheduling conflicts meant I stopped going. My knee slowly began to feel better, and I figured it was just related to the treadmill.
When Greg had his first clear symptom of MS, I was doing massive amounts of research to try to explain what he was feeling. I stumbled upon a description of fibromyalgia. I read it thoroughly and with an open mind. Not for myself, but for him. It was clear from almost the start that he didn't have the right symptoms, but the more I read, the more I could not ignore that I had the right ones.
I printed out the chart the illustrates the 18 tender spots patients with fibro typically have their worst pain. I had Greg put pressure on all of the spots. 15 of them reacted painfully. The diagnostic criteria for fibro is 11 of 18 (http://adam.about.com/ency
I bought a book about the disorder and began to ask my doctor questions. She agreed it was very likely, but since she is not a rheumatologist she didn't diagnose me with fibromyalgia. She eventually would send me to one, which turned out to be a laughable experience and resulted in my writing the doctor a letter about patient treatment.
So, here's what a day in my life is like.
It's morning. My eyes open reluctantly. I have tossed and turned a lot throughout the night, trying to find a position that doesn't put pressure on one of my tender spots. The last time my husband did the test for me, all 18 spots reacted with pain. I do not want to get out of bed because standing will likely hurt. I am exhausted and want to sleep. I know, however, that sleeping won't help and staying in bed will hurt, too. I can't win, so I crawl out of bed and test my body to find out how badly it is hurting. On a good day, I won't need to start off with Vicodin or Flexeril (a muscle relaxer). On a bad day, I won't be able to do anything without at least one of the two. On my worst days, I need both. This particular morning, I am in between a good day and a bad one. Fortunately, I don't have to drive to work this morning, so I take a muscle relaxer and sit for a while to debate breakfast and see if the pill helps.
I do not typically use caffeinated drinks to get me through. Caffeine doesn't generally do much for me anyway. This particular morning, however, I am already especially exhausted, and I know the muscle relaxer will enhance that, so I grab a Frappucino from the fridge, hoping it gives me enough of a boost to get started.
I am working on a paper for a class I'm taking as part of my graduate degree. I try to read some journal articles on the computer screen. My brain is easily sidetracked, though, and the words seem to move the longer I stare. I am unable to absorb the material, so I have to print it and try to focus using highlighters and notes in the margins. My once amazing memory is now plagued by lack of sleep, and forgetfulness is a major issue for me. I do not retain information as well as I used to, and I've asked the school for ADA accommodations. Since my program is entirely online, it's essential that I get the ADA office to send me books. I simply cannot read them on the computer. There are two reasons for this... one is the concentration issue, the other is that sitting at my desk too long can make the pain much worse. I get the printed out article and sit down with it, but between the muscle relaxer and my exhaustion, I feel like I am getting nowhere fast.
There was once a TV commercial on what adult ADD feels like, and they compared it to chronic channel surfing. This is how my concentration is most days. I am unable to focus on anything for all that long, and need to work carefully to minimize distractions and maintain my concentration. With diligent work, it still all comes together, but some days I have to accept that I am unable to focus enough. I have to give in and let myself take the time to regain focus.
This is one of those mornings. Even the printed article seems to taunt me. I simply can't keep my focus, and I need to do something mindless that won't cause my pain to worsen.
I get through the day without Vicodin. In general, I average one pill every other day. It doesn't actually work out that way, but 30 pills lasts me about two months. With my family history of addiction, I am absolutely paranoid about the Vicodin. I do not take it unless I'm really, really hurting. NSAIDS like Aleve or Advil do nothing to ease my pain, mostly because they are anti-inflammatories and there's little evidence to show that muscle pain caused by fibro is actually an inflammation. Worse, they upset my stomach, and I already have issues that are, yup, probably related to fibro.
When it gets close to bedtime I struggle. I am exhausted, as always, but sleep has become so unpleasant. It's my nemesis. I know I will likely sleep badly, and there is an anxiety now when it is time for bed. Furthermore, the later I stay up, the more soundly I sleep... the problem is, when I need to get up and drive to work, I can't afford to do anything that makes my "fibro fog" worse. I *have* to try to sleep... even if it's usually restless, I have to get as much of it as possible.
As for the pain... think about the body aches you get with the flu. I have that non-stop. On a good day, my pain level might go as low as a four... but that is a rare, exceptionally good day. Typically it hovers around a 5 or 6 with some variation throughout the day. On a bad day, it might jump to an 8 or a 9. There are days when the frustration and pain are so intense, I just cry.
I try really hard not to whine or complain too much. I limit my whining to an update in my status on Yahoo or here on facebook. I have limitations, though, and I've learned that to ignore them is to pay the price. Ironing or doing dishes or standing in a long, slow line are the hardest things for me. Standing still causes me far more pain than walking or sitting. Stress exacerbates my symptoms and my worsens my pain. The tender points that are most sensitive for me are in my neck and shoulders, so any tension makes that pain far worse. Tension headaches are a common issue, though usually they aren't that bad (at least compared to what I'm already used to dealing with).
I have TMJ, which is common amongst those of us with fibro. I have to be very careful when I yawn, as I've twice sprained my jaw simply by yawning too widely. A sprained jaw equals not being able to talk much and eating mushy foods for about ten days... and it just plain hurts.
These are the broad strokes of what it's like to live in my body. I've tried all of the meds that I can. I can't take Cymbalta because that type of anti-depressant actually makes me crazy. Gabapentin made me crazy. Lyrica did absolutely nothing, good or bad (and it's damn expensive, even with insurance). I'm on Wellbutrin for depression, which is also common in fibro (not surprisingly considering the chronic pain and lack of sleep). I take Xanax for anxiety and when I have weird electrical issues with my legs (RLS sort of sensations that generally only happen when I'm very tired).
Every day I struggle... but I push onward because what else is there to do? Give up? No, thanks. Not for me. But some days I break down a little, and there are chores I want to do and can't... sometimes the dishes sit for several days, but so what? In the grand scheme of things, a spotless house really isn't that important. I was never a neat freak, and now I just have to accept that some things need to wait or I need help. I do what I can, I push myself as far as I can without going too far... because if I do that, I will have a flare. My pain will become far worse, and I'll be even more restricted in what I can do.
It's not easy. There are days when I don't want to get out of bed... where I just want to hide from the world and say, thanks, I'll pass. I don't. I get up and do my best. I try my hardest to never let pain be an excuse, unless it's truly valid. I don't take advantage of my accommodations with school. I use them as tools, when needed, and otherwise persevere through the pain and "fog."
I think, overall, I handle it fairly well... and that's something that makes me feel pretty damn proud.
For me, the first sign something was wrong happened at night. I tossed and turned. I had vivid and bizarre nightmares (like the one where I was supposed to poison Niles fro Frasier, and I was very upset about it). Sleep quickly became an enemy. I was constantly tired. I began to feel sore everywhere, especially in my shoulders and neck.
Initially, the doctor I saw said it was probably my weight and possible sleep apnea. I was tested, shortly after moving to Colorado. I did not have enough apnea episodes (everyone has some). I was considered to NOT have sleep apnea. They did, however, notice that I didn't seem to cycle through the stages of sleep properly. I would start to dream very quickly, which typically happens in REM sleep. The problem is, I never went into the stages of so-called "deep-sleep." So, I woke up exhausted, and because of my dreams, I felt as though I'd been going all night long.
I ignored my symptoms. Pain began to wake me - probably in part because I no longer was able to achieve deep sleep. At one point, I joined a gym. I did 40 minutes on the treadmill three or four times a week. Everyone told me exercise would equate better sleep. It didn't. Worse, I wound up injured. After about four months, my left knee began to be a major problem. I had to stop working out and started physical therapy. This was my second clue that something was wrong.
The physical therapist I saw told me that the problem I had was not actually my knee. She explained the the muscles in my thigh were so tight they were pulling on the knee cap and making it hurt. I worked with her for a few weeks, but then scheduling conflicts meant I stopped going. My knee slowly began to feel better, and I figured it was just related to the treadmill.
When Greg had his first clear symptom of MS, I was doing massive amounts of research to try to explain what he was feeling. I stumbled upon a description of fibromyalgia. I read it thoroughly and with an open mind. Not for myself, but for him. It was clear from almost the start that he didn't have the right symptoms, but the more I read, the more I could not ignore that I had the right ones.
I printed out the chart the illustrates the 18 tender spots patients with fibro typically have their worst pain. I had Greg put pressure on all of the spots. 15 of them reacted painfully. The diagnostic criteria for fibro is 11 of 18 (http://adam.about.com/ency
I bought a book about the disorder and began to ask my doctor questions. She agreed it was very likely, but since she is not a rheumatologist she didn't diagnose me with fibromyalgia. She eventually would send me to one, which turned out to be a laughable experience and resulted in my writing the doctor a letter about patient treatment.
So, here's what a day in my life is like.
It's morning. My eyes open reluctantly. I have tossed and turned a lot throughout the night, trying to find a position that doesn't put pressure on one of my tender spots. The last time my husband did the test for me, all 18 spots reacted with pain. I do not want to get out of bed because standing will likely hurt. I am exhausted and want to sleep. I know, however, that sleeping won't help and staying in bed will hurt, too. I can't win, so I crawl out of bed and test my body to find out how badly it is hurting. On a good day, I won't need to start off with Vicodin or Flexeril (a muscle relaxer). On a bad day, I won't be able to do anything without at least one of the two. On my worst days, I need both. This particular morning, I am in between a good day and a bad one. Fortunately, I don't have to drive to work this morning, so I take a muscle relaxer and sit for a while to debate breakfast and see if the pill helps.
I do not typically use caffeinated drinks to get me through. Caffeine doesn't generally do much for me anyway. This particular morning, however, I am already especially exhausted, and I know the muscle relaxer will enhance that, so I grab a Frappucino from the fridge, hoping it gives me enough of a boost to get started.
I am working on a paper for a class I'm taking as part of my graduate degree. I try to read some journal articles on the computer screen. My brain is easily sidetracked, though, and the words seem to move the longer I stare. I am unable to absorb the material, so I have to print it and try to focus using highlighters and notes in the margins. My once amazing memory is now plagued by lack of sleep, and forgetfulness is a major issue for me. I do not retain information as well as I used to, and I've asked the school for ADA accommodations. Since my program is entirely online, it's essential that I get the ADA office to send me books. I simply cannot read them on the computer. There are two reasons for this... one is the concentration issue, the other is that sitting at my desk too long can make the pain much worse. I get the printed out article and sit down with it, but between the muscle relaxer and my exhaustion, I feel like I am getting nowhere fast.
There was once a TV commercial on what adult ADD feels like, and they compared it to chronic channel surfing. This is how my concentration is most days. I am unable to focus on anything for all that long, and need to work carefully to minimize distractions and maintain my concentration. With diligent work, it still all comes together, but some days I have to accept that I am unable to focus enough. I have to give in and let myself take the time to regain focus.
This is one of those mornings. Even the printed article seems to taunt me. I simply can't keep my focus, and I need to do something mindless that won't cause my pain to worsen.
I get through the day without Vicodin. In general, I average one pill every other day. It doesn't actually work out that way, but 30 pills lasts me about two months. With my family history of addiction, I am absolutely paranoid about the Vicodin. I do not take it unless I'm really, really hurting. NSAIDS like Aleve or Advil do nothing to ease my pain, mostly because they are anti-inflammatories and there's little evidence to show that muscle pain caused by fibro is actually an inflammation. Worse, they upset my stomach, and I already have issues that are, yup, probably related to fibro.
When it gets close to bedtime I struggle. I am exhausted, as always, but sleep has become so unpleasant. It's my nemesis. I know I will likely sleep badly, and there is an anxiety now when it is time for bed. Furthermore, the later I stay up, the more soundly I sleep... the problem is, when I need to get up and drive to work, I can't afford to do anything that makes my "fibro fog" worse. I *have* to try to sleep... even if it's usually restless, I have to get as much of it as possible.
As for the pain... think about the body aches you get with the flu. I have that non-stop. On a good day, my pain level might go as low as a four... but that is a rare, exceptionally good day. Typically it hovers around a 5 or 6 with some variation throughout the day. On a bad day, it might jump to an 8 or a 9. There are days when the frustration and pain are so intense, I just cry.
I try really hard not to whine or complain too much. I limit my whining to an update in my status on Yahoo or here on facebook. I have limitations, though, and I've learned that to ignore them is to pay the price. Ironing or doing dishes or standing in a long, slow line are the hardest things for me. Standing still causes me far more pain than walking or sitting. Stress exacerbates my symptoms and my worsens my pain. The tender points that are most sensitive for me are in my neck and shoulders, so any tension makes that pain far worse. Tension headaches are a common issue, though usually they aren't that bad (at least compared to what I'm already used to dealing with).
I have TMJ, which is common amongst those of us with fibro. I have to be very careful when I yawn, as I've twice sprained my jaw simply by yawning too widely. A sprained jaw equals not being able to talk much and eating mushy foods for about ten days... and it just plain hurts.
These are the broad strokes of what it's like to live in my body. I've tried all of the meds that I can. I can't take Cymbalta because that type of anti-depressant actually makes me crazy. Gabapentin made me crazy. Lyrica did absolutely nothing, good or bad (and it's damn expensive, even with insurance). I'm on Wellbutrin for depression, which is also common in fibro (not surprisingly considering the chronic pain and lack of sleep). I take Xanax for anxiety and when I have weird electrical issues with my legs (RLS sort of sensations that generally only happen when I'm very tired).
Every day I struggle... but I push onward because what else is there to do? Give up? No, thanks. Not for me. But some days I break down a little, and there are chores I want to do and can't... sometimes the dishes sit for several days, but so what? In the grand scheme of things, a spotless house really isn't that important. I was never a neat freak, and now I just have to accept that some things need to wait or I need help. I do what I can, I push myself as far as I can without going too far... because if I do that, I will have a flare. My pain will become far worse, and I'll be even more restricted in what I can do.
It's not easy. There are days when I don't want to get out of bed... where I just want to hide from the world and say, thanks, I'll pass. I don't. I get up and do my best. I try my hardest to never let pain be an excuse, unless it's truly valid. I don't take advantage of my accommodations with school. I use them as tools, when needed, and otherwise persevere through the pain and "fog."
I think, overall, I handle it fairly well... and that's something that makes me feel pretty damn proud.
Day Three
In his arms, I find sanctuary from the past
The dark and empty days of my childhood recede
I am safe, I am loved
We found each other long ago,
but still learn more each day
He is my strength, my will
When I abandon hope, he helps me fight to find it
When I am adrift, he is my anchor and keeps me grounded
I am the person I am today because he loved me
I have everything because I dared to love him
We are bound for life, not by the rings we wear
Not by the piece of paper that claims it so
But by love that is so pure and deep
It has become as tangible as the rings we wear,
and is stronger than platinum or gold
(For G)
The dark and empty days of my childhood recede
I am safe, I am loved
We found each other long ago,
but still learn more each day
He is my strength, my will
When I abandon hope, he helps me fight to find it
When I am adrift, he is my anchor and keeps me grounded
I am the person I am today because he loved me
I have everything because I dared to love him
We are bound for life, not by the rings we wear
Not by the piece of paper that claims it so
But by love that is so pure and deep
It has become as tangible as the rings we wear,
and is stronger than platinum or gold
(For G)
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