Accepting Limitations

So I have learned the frustrating truth through this process that there going to be setbacks and there are going to be limitations that I simply must accept. This is an ongoing part of the journey.

I just recently went to a great biological dentist in my area and found that I have 5 infections in my mouth. FIVE! My pour mouth. With this stinky digestion I have been dealing with, it's no wonder my teeth are a mess. I'm slowly working on the digestion, but I am realizing that the teeth work is going to cost money....BIG TIME MONEY. Dental work is not cheap and insurance companies only seem to want to pay pennies to help out. I have had root canals in the past (which my body doesn't seem to be happy with) and now I get to deal with the consequences of infection.

So now I must practice that lovely "P" word until I have the money to get these teeth worked on, which will hopefully be soon. I'd like to rid my body of this burden as soon as I can.

Ticking People Off?

Ok, so my last post was so sweet and lovely about people, but today I'm feeling claustrophobic. As I have been working to heal chronic illness, I have REALLY needed my space most of the time. It is difficult for me to sit and talk with someone for very long and I find it very hard to help them understand this.

Some people really want to help and their intentions are pure but really what I have needed is to be free from as much general social interaction and expectation as possible.

The best service I can get right now is a quiet little, brief love offering...e-mails being the BEST! I really need my private, serene space so I can mediate, pray, and take the supps that are helping the healing process.

I really don't want to have to tick people off, but somehow, I have to let people know...poop.

One Conversation

Reducing seven years of debilitating, chronic illness into one conversation is like trying to fit a tent into a jar. You can roll it, smoosh it, and try to shove it in, but in the end, it just can't be done.

This kind, lovely new neighbor of mine came over to see if she could do anything to help me. The minute she sat down, I knew she was compassionate and genuine. She listened intently as I stumbled over my words as I tried to explain all this...

But how do you help someone really understand that you've been through hell and back several times? How do you make sense of the roller coaster ride that it is? How can you possibly express the pain on the inside that is so completely unapparent on the outside? How do you help them see that just because you may feel better one day, does not mean that you have made it through this difficult journey and have now reached the other side? How can you help them realize that this illness is the hardest thing you could have ever imagined, yet wouldn't change it for all the life lessons you have learned and the new person you have become?

It just can't be done in one conversation. I always end up feeling so unfulfilled. All my experiences just end up sounding so trivial. I really would like to just sit people down and have them watch a little movie of my life, with all the music and special effects to give it the impact it deserves. But no one can or should take on that kind of a burden. In the end, I find it's best to say as little as possible, while still helping the them to understand in a way that will satisfy their desire to know. It's difficult, and I have to learn to let it go.

The only time I feel truly fulfilled in conversation is through prayer. That's it. Through prayer, I know that I am completely understood. Through prayer, I can feel comfort knowing that my deepest, darkest places have been seen and that my life movie has been watched. Through prayer, I know I can receive total and complete validation. Through prayer, I know I can receive the guidance and help that I so desperately need to make it through this.

Back to my neighbor though...

People like her teach me. They teach me that you don't have to completely understand someone's journey before you can offer love and compassion to them. They teach me that although we are limited in our ability to take away the suffering of others, we can offer a listening ear and a kind word now and then. They teach me how important it is to be genuine and caring toward others as we ride through this bumpy journey called "life".

I want to be just like her.

The Battle of "The Shoulder People"

I have two people on my shoulders.

The guy on my left has a dark rain cloud overhead and is saying:

-You CAN'T do this.

-It is impossible.

-Look, you've been trying so hard for so long and you are still sick.

-People live there whole lives sick. What makes YOU think you should be any different?

-Just give up.

-Even if you were able to eventually get better, it would take so long that it's just not worth the work.

-You really can't figure it all out.

The guy on my right has a sun overhead is saying:

-You CAN do this.

-The body CAN heal. It just takes patience, work, and time.

-You ARE meant to get well here on earth.

-You CAN be guided through careful planning.

-Don't give up. You will see the rewards of your efforts as you continue in faith.

-Learn to be careful, patient and let go of the fear through the dips.

-The things you have researched and learned of are true.

-You ARE receiving help to navigate through it all...more than you know.

-You will look back and see the colorful picture that has been painted through this hardship.

The hardest thing is that it is so much easier to give in to the guy on the left. His way is just so easy and requires no effort on my part. The guy on the right tells me things that are hopeful, yet difficult. I kind of wish he would just say, "It's all going away and you will be better by morning!"

I guess all I can do is continue to fight the battle. I will do my best to pull through to the place of hope and listen to the guy on my right.

Just please, no carrots dangling over my nose!!!

Wild Goose Chase?

Today, truth be told, I feel like I am on a wild goose chase trying to get better. I am in a TERRIBLE flare up and I feel little hope for recovery. The smiley face on humpty dumpty is making me mad. I just want to change it to a big frowny face and add some tears. This is so hard.

Baby Steps

When I say I have to take baby steps, I really mean BABY steps. My body is so deficient in nutrients, it's crazy, and you'd think that it would be just perfect to add them in and, poof, feel better. But it doesn't work that way for me. Every time I take anything, my body reacts in some crazy way. For example, yesterday the only change I made in the daily supplement regimen, was that I added a half of a magnesium. Today I have felt like I have the flu, along with serious dizziness, itchiness, twitichiness, and all over pain and weakness. My husband is convinced that this is all MS...but whatever...I'm not sure it really matters what label traditional medicine would put on it anyway.

I think next time I will only take one fourth of a magnesium. I'm trying to figure out how to move forward and progress, without feeling too bad in the process. It is so hard. My MD just says to go as slowly as I need to.

Will I ever get better this way?

Last year, I decided I was so darn sick of being sick that I decided was going to flippin get rid of these infections once and for all. My mom came to stay with us while I took antifungals and antibiotics (natural ones for the lyme) and minerals and ginger and aloe and blah blah blah, and I ended up getting so sick I couldn't leave the house for 6 weeks (except to go to the hospital a couple of times). I had to quit teaching piano and choir (which I am sadly taking a long term break from at the moment) and suffered a hell that only my mom, husband and kids know about. I never want to go through that again.

I would just never touch that stuff again, except the problem is that all of my lab work and information, shows that I do have these infections, that my detoxification systems are impaired and that I am deficient in many nutrients that need to be replenished. On top of all that, my endocrine system seems to be all over the board. It feels impossible to make sense of it all.

All I can do is continue to move forward, taking one baby step at a time. I will do my best to believe that I CAN get better and hopefully my body will continue to slowly recover, even when it doesn't feel like it.

Chutes and Ladders

Yesterday I played a game of Chutes and Ladders with two of my kids. I have never liked that game. I didn't like it as kid and I don't like it now. I have always felt so frustrated with this idea of moving forward, just to be let down on your next turn. To make matters worse, I was so disgruntled and distracted that I kept going the wrong way. I really just wanted to quit the game altogether. Ugh!

I decided to keep going so that I didn't have two very disappointed kids on my hands, and just as we were finishing up, my husband mentioned how much this game is like the process of healing chronic illness. Just when you think you are making progress, you get pushed back. Just when you think you have reached a high point, you fall down again. At that point you can either choose to quit the game or pick yourself up and spin again.

Another lesson to learn from this game is that it really doesn't help us out to compare ourselves with other people. We are each moving along the game board in our own ways. We are individually experiencing ups and downs and working out our own movements. (Just because I can't eat cheesecake right now, doesn't mean that I should be mad at my husband for enjoying a slice now and then.)

Of course, that doesn't mean that we shouldn't be here for each other to offer help and love, but it does mean that we should not be competing and comparing as we each play our own game. The great thing, is that if you look at it that way, discouragement can give way to hope, frustration can give way to patience and perserverance, and competition can give way to personal guidance.

So here's a poem I wrote that I think I'll set to music (and send to our piano publisher)

Yesterday, I played a game with ladders and some slides.

We moved our pieces 'round the board

And laughed at all the rides

But then it started going bad as smile turned to frown

Cause just when I had neared the top,

I had to slide way down

The competition soon became just selfish for us all

The worst of it, was how we hoped

To watch each other fall

Eventually I lost, then vowed to never play again

It really stinks to play a game,

You feel you'll never win

But then I had a thought that'd bring me guaranteed success...

I'll just play "with" and not "against"

And set to do MY best.