About 2 years ago I was diagnosed with Fibromyalgia. Also, about 2 years ago I began to perfect my practice of denial.
Even though I suspected I had it for a long time before my diagnosis, seeing as how I have almost every symptom known to man; even though my doctor diagnosed me without me ever bringing it up; even though I have not known a pain free day since sometime in 2003; even though I have shared with my friends and family that I have Fibro; In the back of my head I'm not convinced. I can still function-kinda. My brain still works like it did-or maybe not. I can recover from a day that is slightly physically challenging-in 2 to 3 weeks. I use my denial to beat myself up and convince myself I am lazy. That does wonders for another of my symptoms: depression.
So, I am going to stop beating myself up! I am going to conquer this--somehow. I know my best best is diet and exercise; however, if you try to find a plan online for an exercise program to combat Fibro all you really find are sites that say it depends on the person, depends on your good days, your bad days; your good time of days, your bad time of days; the type and severity of your symptoms. This is all true, but not very concrete, and while I'm sure it's out there somewhere, I haven't found so much as a sample workout schedule. What I have read is to start slow and with low weights and to include stretching exercises. All good advice, and I have certainly found it to be true in the past.
My goal now is to take this advice and expand on it. I am going to come up with a plan to get fit and feel better. I may not be able to cure this, but I can help myself.
I am officially introducing Fibro Friday. Some time on Friday I will sum up my week to include my actual workouts and what works and doesn't work for me. What works for me may not work for others, and vice versa, but maybe it will help someone make their own plan.
For now, all I know is that I probably won't include pilates. Although I really enjoy it I always end up with throwing my back out after a bit. I believe this has to do with my scoliosis, not my fibro, so pilates would probably be great for someone else. Then again, I may include pilates, one move at a time for a while, and see if I can isolate what exactly is my problem area--cuz like I said I love how it makes me feel, and like I didn't say, but you may have figured out--I'm just stubborn like that!
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Saturday, August 28, 2010
Little Things Can Make Me So Happy
Tonight I came home from Wal*Mart very excited to call my mother and tell her what I'd found! So excited that I called and *then* realized she would be in bed. Oops! Sorry mom!
But, guess what I found!!! COUNTRY HAM AND RED EYE GRAVY GRITS from Quaker!! My favorite!!! You just have to understand! These are apparently regional, and I have not been able to buy them in a store near home in my entire adult life! I have had to take them home in a suitcase after visiting my mom, my mom's mailed them to me, but not anymore! Now I can take my happy little self to Wal*Mart and buy them all.by.myself.
I feel so grown up. All able to buy my own breakfast food and all. :)
But, guess what I found!!! COUNTRY HAM AND RED EYE GRAVY GRITS from Quaker!! My favorite!!! You just have to understand! These are apparently regional, and I have not been able to buy them in a store near home in my entire adult life! I have had to take them home in a suitcase after visiting my mom, my mom's mailed them to me, but not anymore! Now I can take my happy little self to Wal*Mart and buy them all.by.myself.
I feel so grown up. All able to buy my own breakfast food and all. :)
Wednesday, August 11, 2010
First day of His Last Year of School = Nightmare
DS is a senior this year, and we just moved to Louisiana, so he is in a brand new school.
He has to wear uniforms for the first time ever, and he is not happy about that He is truly and independent spirit, but he seems ok with it now that he's been in school a day.
This morning he gets up, and he is in a panic. Full blown anxiety attack. He doesn't know exactly where the bus stop is - just that it is on the corner. He doesn't know where exactly to get his schedule. He doesn't know where the bus to the technical school will be. Nothing too major, but all together it was just too much.
After getting him calmed down I took him to school. He was ok by the time we got there. Not great, but not panicked.
I go home, and eat breakfast. I'm about to head out to the doctor when I get a call. First, there is more than one "wall" where the schedules are. He finds his, and then goes to ask a teacher where the bus is for the tech school for his Sports Medicine class. She shows him. He gets on the bus and verifies that it is the bus for "Name of City" Technical School. "Yes, this is it."
Yeah, not so much! He said he knew he was in the wrong place when on the ride there the students start talking about how many Yeagerbombs (sp?) they had last night, and how Scotch is good to drink. It doesn't burn your throat after the first few sips. Then the kids are telling him backpacks are not allowed...HUH? We asked about that, and they are... so???? Then someone tells him he is wearing the wrong color shirt, but "we will let you live for one day." (jokingly, I hope)
Then he arrives at the school and the bus driver starts telling all of the students to not hang around and talk after school at 2:00 because they will miss their ride home. 2:00?? He supposed to be back at his home school at lunch time. He doesn't even try to go to class, and heads straight to the office. They sent him to the alternative school. For troublemakers. My child who has never even so much as had detention or a phone call home for that matter.
He calls me, and the counselor gives me directions on how to get there. (We're totally new here, remember). I get there after spending half of the ride going "This can't possibly be right. This is a rough looking neighborhood. I must be in the wrong place". Nope right place.
I get there, find him and call his counselor at his school to let her know what is going on. She felt soooo bad, and she gave me directions to where he is supposed to be, and called the other school to let them know what is going on. He's supposed to be testing this morning since we weren't here last year. We get there. They are expecting him. All's good...for now.
I now go to the doctor. Got lost...twice. Gas light comes on while lost. Get stuck at a train crossing. I make it there and home. Whew.
DS goes back to his school at lunch time. Misses lunch and half of his first class because you only get your first class at "the wall". He is pinged back and forth between the counselors office, the library and the vice principals office.
One of the classes he has to take is all Freshman because it is a class they do in their Senior year in Virginia. One of the kids starts picking on him...He stands up to get his book, another kid tells the first kid to shut up before he (DS) beats the C*** out of him. DS is very broad shouldered and built more like full grown man than a high school student. First kid shuts up, and doesn't pick on him anymore.
The good news is he likes all of his teachers, his counselor is wonderful, and things have to go UP from here...right?
This was like the nightmare first day for him. I feel so bad. We went to pick up the last few school supplies, and he kept asking for things, and finally I said, "Are you taking advantage of the fact that I feel so bad for you?" "No mom, really." Riiiiiight.
He has to wear uniforms for the first time ever, and he is not happy about that He is truly and independent spirit, but he seems ok with it now that he's been in school a day.
This morning he gets up, and he is in a panic. Full blown anxiety attack. He doesn't know exactly where the bus stop is - just that it is on the corner. He doesn't know where exactly to get his schedule. He doesn't know where the bus to the technical school will be. Nothing too major, but all together it was just too much.
After getting him calmed down I took him to school. He was ok by the time we got there. Not great, but not panicked.
I go home, and eat breakfast. I'm about to head out to the doctor when I get a call. First, there is more than one "wall" where the schedules are. He finds his, and then goes to ask a teacher where the bus is for the tech school for his Sports Medicine class. She shows him. He gets on the bus and verifies that it is the bus for "Name of City" Technical School. "Yes, this is it."
Yeah, not so much! He said he knew he was in the wrong place when on the ride there the students start talking about how many Yeagerbombs (sp?) they had last night, and how Scotch is good to drink. It doesn't burn your throat after the first few sips. Then the kids are telling him backpacks are not allowed...HUH? We asked about that, and they are... so???? Then someone tells him he is wearing the wrong color shirt, but "we will let you live for one day." (jokingly, I hope)
Then he arrives at the school and the bus driver starts telling all of the students to not hang around and talk after school at 2:00 because they will miss their ride home. 2:00?? He supposed to be back at his home school at lunch time. He doesn't even try to go to class, and heads straight to the office. They sent him to the alternative school. For troublemakers. My child who has never even so much as had detention or a phone call home for that matter.
He calls me, and the counselor gives me directions on how to get there. (We're totally new here, remember). I get there after spending half of the ride going "This can't possibly be right. This is a rough looking neighborhood. I must be in the wrong place". Nope right place.
I get there, find him and call his counselor at his school to let her know what is going on. She felt soooo bad, and she gave me directions to where he is supposed to be, and called the other school to let them know what is going on. He's supposed to be testing this morning since we weren't here last year. We get there. They are expecting him. All's good...for now.
I now go to the doctor. Got lost...twice. Gas light comes on while lost. Get stuck at a train crossing. I make it there and home. Whew.
DS goes back to his school at lunch time. Misses lunch and half of his first class because you only get your first class at "the wall". He is pinged back and forth between the counselors office, the library and the vice principals office.
One of the classes he has to take is all Freshman because it is a class they do in their Senior year in Virginia. One of the kids starts picking on him...He stands up to get his book, another kid tells the first kid to shut up before he (DS) beats the C*** out of him. DS is very broad shouldered and built more like full grown man than a high school student. First kid shuts up, and doesn't pick on him anymore.
The good news is he likes all of his teachers, his counselor is wonderful, and things have to go UP from here...right?
This was like the nightmare first day for him. I feel so bad. We went to pick up the last few school supplies, and he kept asking for things, and finally I said, "Are you taking advantage of the fact that I feel so bad for you?" "No mom, really." Riiiiiight.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Just Call Him the Duck Whisperer
Or if you prefer: The Duck Piper. It doesn't matter. What does matter is those ducks loved Michael. It all started when the momma duck started bringing her 24, yes 24!, ducklings to our house every afternoon to feed on the bird seed the birds had knocked out of the feeders through out the day.
She would come and let the babies eat and then they would play and sit in the water from the sprinkler for a while, and Momma would sit along the periphery with her keen eyes watching everything that was going on. After we set up the trampoline she would sit in the shade with the water dripping down from the canvas above.
It didn't take long for Michael to decide that if the ducks were going to come they were not just going to be eating leftovers. It took even less time for him to discover their favorite was the dried corn. So, he would buy large bags of corn and fill a coffee cup and distribute it to the ducklings. Always making sure that everyone was able to eat their fill. Michael was always careful to be sure that the dominate ducklings were not able to keep the others from eating.
Soon, the ducks were coming twice a day. At the same times. EVERY day. Funny thing is, I never knew ducks could tell time. But let me tell you... they can. We know this because before much time had passed the ducks decided they were not content to wait in the back yard, and they would actually swarm him when he came home. They would meet him at his truck each afternoon and talk to him as he stepped down from the seat. I don't even know where they come from, but Michael's truck would pull up...and there they were--like magic.
They say animals can detect a kind person, a person with a heart for animals. If I didn't believe before, I do now. The momma duck trusted Michael. How do we know? She showed it. After a few days of them coming, before Michael started feeding them, she would allow us to sit outside and watch her babies just feet away from where they were feeding. If one of us stood up, though, she would always place herself between us and the babies, quietly, calmly, as if to say "I don't want to startle them, but don't get too close." A few days after that, Michael was aloud to be smack dab in the middle of them all, and Momma would watch from her comfortable perch in the cool, damp grass, but if Brendan or I stood up, she was would be between us and her little ones. She did trust us, but not like she trusted Michael. Now, if Brendan and I were at our house, and other people were coming to close from the park that was across from our yard, Brendan and I were apparently the least threatening because she would put her focus on them. She had a trust heirarchy, and it went like this: Michael, me and Brendan, and waaaay down the list, everyone else.
Smart duck.
Friday, June 4, 2010
A Belated Memorial Day Tribute: Through the Eyes of a Child
Waaay back in 1998 when Brendan was in preschool he had his first official lesson on Memorial Day. He came home that day very excited telling me how his daddy is a hero. Curious, and wanting to know his thoughts, I asked him, "Oh yeah, how come?"
His answer? "'Cuz my daddy was in the 'golf war', and he whacked that ball right out of there!"
Oh to be a child where the only struggle you know of is the war of winning a ball game.
Thank you to all the veterans who gave their lives, so that my child would not even be able to comprehend the idea of war...so that my child would grow up in a safe place, and not in a war torn country with violence on the streets right outside of his home like so many other children around the world do.
His answer? "'Cuz my daddy was in the 'golf war', and he whacked that ball right out of there!"
Oh to be a child where the only struggle you know of is the war of winning a ball game.
Thank you to all the veterans who gave their lives, so that my child would not even be able to comprehend the idea of war...so that my child would grow up in a safe place, and not in a war torn country with violence on the streets right outside of his home like so many other children around the world do.
Saturday, May 15, 2010
Sometimes We Just Have to Wait
My husband and are coming up on a new season in life: retirement from the military. Being a life-long dependant, to say that I am afraid of the future would be an understatement. Logically I know we will be fine. We will have his retirement income, once I get to the last duty station next month I can get a job, we have great, loving families, and most importantly, though sometimes it feels abstract, we have a loving God. A God whose "eye is on the sparrow".
Even with all this, I find myself not only praying, but begging God to please show me everything will be fine. And he has. He has spoken to me through his word, through radio programs with timely messages, and through songs that speak directly to my heart. Still, I crave more. I have come to the realization that not only do I want things to be fine, but I want them to fit in my vision for our lives. Frankly, my vision may not be God's truth for our lives, and I need to accept that. I don't want to, but I need to.
I guess I am afraid of living in poverty. I want our own home. After 20+ years of military housing I want a place to call our own, and I want a place that is nice and I can be proud of. Not extravagant, but nice. Probably a bit bigger than we need, but I want a place where friends and family can visit, and they can have their own space. Their own place to go without feeling as if they have displaced us from our rooms. I want to go to bed at night without worrying about money. I want to replace bad tires without worrying about where the money is coming from. I want to support our son through college. I'm afraid God's plan for our life won't match this. I automatically assume that if our lives aren't like this we will be living a life of poverty. Why? My vision is not that we will be living like Hollywood's rich and famous. In fact, it is firmly entrenched in the middle class. God's vision could be greater than my dreams. (Even as I type that my thoughts are "but I doubt it". Will I ever learn?"
I wish God would flat out show me what is in store for our lives, but I have to wait. And trust. Trust does not come easily for me. He did flat out show me this week one thing...I have to wait.
Michael had a situation at work this week that hurt him, and broke my heart for him. Since he is not shy at all, he decided to confront the situation head on. While praying for his situation, I begged God, in tears, to please speak to me through His word, comfort me, and show me that in this situation everything would be fine. I read the intended scripture for that night desperately searching for anything that could apply to this situation, but God was silent. Nothing seemed to fit, so I fretted.
The next morning Michael called. Everything is fine. It was all a great misunderstanding...a miscommunication. He was happy. I could hear it in his voice.
Later, while thinking over this in my mind, I heard, "Sometimes you just have to wait." Sometimes the wait will be short to know the answer to your prayers. Sometimes, though, it will feel like forever. Still, we just have to wait...
Even with all this, I find myself not only praying, but begging God to please show me everything will be fine. And he has. He has spoken to me through his word, through radio programs with timely messages, and through songs that speak directly to my heart. Still, I crave more. I have come to the realization that not only do I want things to be fine, but I want them to fit in my vision for our lives. Frankly, my vision may not be God's truth for our lives, and I need to accept that. I don't want to, but I need to.
I guess I am afraid of living in poverty. I want our own home. After 20+ years of military housing I want a place to call our own, and I want a place that is nice and I can be proud of. Not extravagant, but nice. Probably a bit bigger than we need, but I want a place where friends and family can visit, and they can have their own space. Their own place to go without feeling as if they have displaced us from our rooms. I want to go to bed at night without worrying about money. I want to replace bad tires without worrying about where the money is coming from. I want to support our son through college. I'm afraid God's plan for our life won't match this. I automatically assume that if our lives aren't like this we will be living a life of poverty. Why? My vision is not that we will be living like Hollywood's rich and famous. In fact, it is firmly entrenched in the middle class. God's vision could be greater than my dreams. (Even as I type that my thoughts are "but I doubt it". Will I ever learn?"
I wish God would flat out show me what is in store for our lives, but I have to wait. And trust. Trust does not come easily for me. He did flat out show me this week one thing...I have to wait.
Michael had a situation at work this week that hurt him, and broke my heart for him. Since he is not shy at all, he decided to confront the situation head on. While praying for his situation, I begged God, in tears, to please speak to me through His word, comfort me, and show me that in this situation everything would be fine. I read the intended scripture for that night desperately searching for anything that could apply to this situation, but God was silent. Nothing seemed to fit, so I fretted.
The next morning Michael called. Everything is fine. It was all a great misunderstanding...a miscommunication. He was happy. I could hear it in his voice.
Later, while thinking over this in my mind, I heard, "Sometimes you just have to wait." Sometimes the wait will be short to know the answer to your prayers. Sometimes, though, it will feel like forever. Still, we just have to wait...
Monday, May 3, 2010
Complaining, Grumbling and Growing Faith
It is amazing how we can see, hear or read something over and over again, and all of a sudden it is like you never read it before. This is what happened last night while reading Exodus chapter 16. Specifically Exodus 16:8b.
In this chapter the Israelites are complaining to Moses and Aaron about not having enough food, and "wishing" they were back in Egypt. Then you come to verse 8b "...the Lord has heard your grumbling that you grumble against him-what are we? Your grumbling is not against us but against the Lord."
Your grumbling is against the Lord.
We, as a society, are quick to complain, and I know I am guilty. Waiting in line...complain, Don't make as much money as you would like...complain, Life not going the way you think it should...complain. The list goes on and on and on. We complain about people complaining, but is this complaining accomplishing anything? Or are we complaining to complain. Are we complaining to make change, or to gain sympathy?
When we complain to blow smoke we aren't complaining against the store, our family, our friends, the government. We are complaining against God... God who knows what is best for us, and wants the best for us. Instead of gleaning what God's purpose could be in any given situation, our first impulse is to grumble. What a perfect stumbling block to our growth in faith.
Earlier this year we learned that Michael will be retiring 2 years earlier than we had planned. My first inclination was to rail against the Air Force. Why? Because, frankly, I'm scared. I do not like the unknown, and I do not like change. The Air Force is our Egypt. It is familiar; it is comfortable, and even though there are hard times, it is home, but it is time to leave.
The last couple of months I have been trying to trust God. Trying not to complain, or focus on the negative. I am trying to trust that God has a plan for us. A plan that is better than we can imagine. Trust...that we are being shoved out of the nest that is the Air Force,...so that we can live out God's plan for our lives.
I need to trust God's plan, not complain that God's plan doesn't coincide with what my plan was.
Ella
In this chapter the Israelites are complaining to Moses and Aaron about not having enough food, and "wishing" they were back in Egypt. Then you come to verse 8b "...the Lord has heard your grumbling that you grumble against him-what are we? Your grumbling is not against us but against the Lord."
Your grumbling is against the Lord.
We, as a society, are quick to complain, and I know I am guilty. Waiting in line...complain, Don't make as much money as you would like...complain, Life not going the way you think it should...complain. The list goes on and on and on. We complain about people complaining, but is this complaining accomplishing anything? Or are we complaining to complain. Are we complaining to make change, or to gain sympathy?
When we complain to blow smoke we aren't complaining against the store, our family, our friends, the government. We are complaining against God... God who knows what is best for us, and wants the best for us. Instead of gleaning what God's purpose could be in any given situation, our first impulse is to grumble. What a perfect stumbling block to our growth in faith.
Earlier this year we learned that Michael will be retiring 2 years earlier than we had planned. My first inclination was to rail against the Air Force. Why? Because, frankly, I'm scared. I do not like the unknown, and I do not like change. The Air Force is our Egypt. It is familiar; it is comfortable, and even though there are hard times, it is home, but it is time to leave.
The last couple of months I have been trying to trust God. Trying not to complain, or focus on the negative. I am trying to trust that God has a plan for us. A plan that is better than we can imagine. Trust...that we are being shoved out of the nest that is the Air Force,...so that we can live out God's plan for our lives.
I need to trust God's plan, not complain that God's plan doesn't coincide with what my plan was.
Ella
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)