Sometimes I Cry....and Even I Don't Know Why

Hah!  I rhymed.

Anywho, Hi folks!  How are we all holding up around here lately?

I....am holding up.  I am surviving with a clear and precise movement towards healthy coping and enjoying life.

With my anxiety and PTSD it is a really steep uphill battle to stay positive and move past all the hate and anger and vicious negativity I had endured the last 12+ months or so.

Let me rephrase that, I have been continuing to endure this vengeful hatred for a few months more now because my "family" doesn't know what it means to be supportive and empowering.  All they really know how to do is bring you down and tell you what you're doing wrong and you'll never amount to anything without them...

Which you know, as well as I do, that's not going to make me happy....in fact if nothing else...it will make me depressed and angry.

I have a serious history of mental health problems that are not just inherited but also acquired, bipolar disorder, insomnia, ptsd, severe generalized anxiety disorder.  I'm a cutter by nature.  Basically, I substitute physical pain for the mental pain I am feeling at the time the cutting seems necessary.

It's a really strange feeling, a mindset that has no sense of order or rationality but it's still there just urging every fiber in your being to find something sharp and rip open your flesh to watch the blood flow and feel the physical pain slide a "bandaid" of sorts over the mental pain.

You go numb and after the first few cuts it gets easier to cut.  I found out a long time ago, at the behest of my mother to find a different outlet for that mental anguish, tattoos and piercings are far more wildly accepted than the scars of cutting.

So I had one of my favorite Milwaukee tattoo artists cover my inner forearms in large and elaborate tattoos to cover the permanence of my mental anguish. 

The piercings were an easy way to quickly make things feel better with less need for cash and more need for pain, it was an easy outlet until I had children.

Now most of my money goes to them and keeping my house together....but lately, having to deal with all this pure and unadulterated hatred I have received from the people I was supposed to be getting "help" from and call themselves "family" have pushed me....they've pushed me too far.

And the darkness is coming back....it's starting to seep into the edges of my psyche and it's getting difficult to be positive all the time.  It's difficult to find the energy to even get up and do the usual daily activities, even my girls can see that mommy isn't doing well. 

I'm not sure what hurts more.  The deep ache when my girls see me crying and ask me if I'm okay or the sting of knowing my own blood would rather watch me flounder and fail and come crawling back to them before they say congrats or I'm proud of you......they both hurt equally as much just in different ways.

That makes coping so much more difficult in the end.  And let's be honest, my coping skills have been in need of help for years. 

I miss my mom and sister something fierce.  My "adopted" kids, my godsons, the only two male children I will ever have or acknowledge in my life as my own....their current situations have me so concerned I lose sleep over it.

I've had my dystonia start to worsen from the stress and that in and off itself is a difficult beast to battle everyday when it's not super exacerbated.  I don't think many people understand what I mean when I say I'm exhausted from battling myself all day. 

I'm not just battling the mental urge to cause myself harm because of deep seeded emotional issues but I'm also battling the physical urge to twitch uncontrollably. 

I spend a good portion of my day reminding myself that it's not unusual for me to have a switch in emotion so quickly and to just breathe, roll with it and keep going until the next switch happens...and then I have to deal with that in a whole different way.  It's exhausting to simply exist.

My physical body is failing me in ways no one my age really understands.  My mind is awash with emotions that don't make sense to be feeling half the time.  Even my husband who has known every deep secret of mine for the past six years and everything that happened before I met him, is concerned about the way my disabilities have become so strong and out of control. 

There are a lot of days where I have so much going on on the INSIDE that the urgency of some situations in the outside world don't quite register.  One minute I'll be staring off into space, silent and motionless, it's like the calm before the storm because more often than not after a few moments like that I literally feel like just screaming and crying and throwing things because on the inside is just too much and I lose all rational control of myself.

And usually, my husband has to bring me back down from the affront of emotion I felt in a matter of moments because when I get to that point all rational thought goes out the window and only the worst possible circumstances could be possible. 

Meditation helps....listening to music helps (I need to treat myself to that more often), smoking some herb helps (if you don't get it don't ask but it calms the anxiety and the pain and the dystonia like no pharmaceutical drug I've EVER taken), drinking a glass of wine or whisky, some time to myself, a short walk but with two kids a lot of that isn't accessible when they are awake or unoccupied. 

I have a strong fear that I have screwed up my children mentally and emotionally in a way that will affect them for the rest of their lives and that it's all my fault. 

I know it's not.  My rational brain (when it does work) tells me that's not true, it tells me none of the unnecessary worries I have are rational to be having but the doubt, the fear, the self hatred....it's still there and it can be a beast to beat down back to submission so I can function. 

I know that life will never be all sunshine and daisies, I'm not that blind.  I just wish the happier times were easier for me to enjoy.  I wish being social didn't instill a fear in me that no one else could possibly understand. 

I long for a cure to this constant self doubt and apocalyptic worry I have but methinks it's something I will forever have to deal with.

Let's just hope I can win this battle in the end and that when my time does finally come i will be there for it instead of leaving this plain early because I can't stand the pain anymore.  Physical or mental, living like this is tough....

It's even more difficult than being a mother to two toddler daughters.  LOL 

What I Mean When I Say "I Hurt"

I don't think most people say "I hurt" as often as I say it.  And, to be honest, I don't think when most people say "I hurt" they mean the same thing I mean when I say "I hurt".

When I say "I hurt", I mean it.  I mean it with every fiber of my being.  Every atom that makes up my body is telling me it is in pain and I express that through two words, "I hurt".

When I say that I hurt, it means more than just, my body aches a little here and there from doing this that or the other.  It means my body is screaming out in waves of electric energy running up and down my nerve paths all day long, sending pulsing messages of pain throughout my body.  I have days where I literally hurt from head to toe. 

Fibromyalgia...that's what I have been diagnosed as having, is what causes this nonstop throbbing, aching, deep, agonizing pain. 

I can't stand it some days...can't stand the pain, the throbbing, the aching, the deeply bruised feeling in all of my muscles and joints.  My trigger points feel like they're on fire, my neck and shoulders are tight and sore...so very, very sore.

I have friends who wonder how I do it, how I push through the pain that I'm constantly complaining about and still go on with life.  I have some friends who have aches, pains, soreness and stiffness from everyday work, everyday life and they take some Ibuprofen or Tylenol and BAM!  They're fine 30 minutes later when the pills start to work.

I have a secret hate for those friends and very often find myself cursing them silently under my breath because I can take a 20 mg oxycodone and still not find relief from some of my pains.  I can take the Ibuprofen and Tylenol and Aleve and Aspirin and not feel any difference in my pain level.

I'm jealous, that's what it all boils down to.  I'm jealous that most of my friends my age can do pretty much whatever they want physically and not notice it the next day...I'll end up hurting that day and the day after that and the day after that and this goes on for a few days depending on the weather and what my own physical activity level is for the few days I need to recuperate.

How do I do it?  How do I keep going every day?  How do I push through the pain and keep going on with life?

I ask myself those same questions some days, on the bad days.   I ask myself those questions a lot on the bad days and find myself repeating my motherly mantra several times.

"You MUST get up and be a responsible adult".  That is my "Bad Day" mantra to myself when I'm lying on the bed and the girls are crying and in need of tending and I need to push past my pain and just push myself up off the bed, take a deep breathe and move.

Hah!  Move...you know how much I hate moving on bad days?  OMG!  I hate myself on those days!  They are frustrating!  SO FRUSTRATING!  I want to move, I want to get up and be a proper parent, I want to do these things and so much more!  

But on the bad days...I get nothing done but what is absolutely necessary from me for me and my daughters to survive.

Why is that?

I'll answer you honestly...because I'm human.  I falter.  My mental resolve sometimes fails and I just lay there and cry in pain and shame.

Fibromyalgia is a real bitch of a disease to have.  No one can see it.  No one knows you have it.  Why?  Because they can't SEE IT! 

They can only see the end results of the symptoms you suffer from daily.  The mental and physical exhaustion, the daily aches and pains, the constant stiff and soreness.  Very often the depression, bipolar disorder, anxiety disorder, sleep disorder and other mental health problems are playing off the fibromyalgia causing your day to feel absolutely FUCKED UP! 

You hurt, you hurt beyond words.  You can't describe how deep the bruised aching feeling goes.  And you're constantly stiff and sore in the joints.  My legs hurt for days when we had a cold snap for about a week.

I kid you not, it felt like and elephant had sat on me from the pelvis down for the entire time I slept...my legs hurt that bad.  I could barely walk.  NOTHING was taking away that pain.

It's been a few days of warmer weather now and guess what?! 

MY LEGS DON'T HURT!

Wow! It's a miracle!  (Says the more flighty and artistic side of my brain...the more whimsical and eccentric side). 

No it's fucking not (says the other half of my brain....the more rational and reasoning side of my brain), it's fucking fibromyalgia (that half of my brain has a very foul mouth).

We fucking know that you ASS!  We were being fucking funny!  Apparently, someone can't read sarcasm!  Do we need a gotdayum sign?!  (I guess both halves of my brain are foul mouthed.  That explains a lot). 

So I talk to myself...

Who doesn't?

LOL

Anyway, I started Lyrica.  I'm hoping it will relieve some of this constant pain I have every damn day. I can't stand it some days.  I really can't stand it!  I can't get away from the pain and then, when you can't find any kind of relief or any kind of escape through your usual coping methods...all that's left is to fall apart for a little while. 

Just for a couple of minutes, let yourself cry.  Let yourself dwell in it.  Let yourself feel that pain and be it, for a little while. 

Just a little while though.  Not too long.  Don't stay there.

Why? 

Because, you MUST get up and be a responsible adult.

Stupid fibromyalgia.  

Camping In A Nutshell

Fourth of July weekend was fun times for me and my family.  That is....if you like camping.  Now I've always enjoyed camping but that was before I had to take a one and two year old on a camping trip with my husband and I.

That was the worst possible weekend of my life as a parent thus far and I should have considered leashes given the number of times I had to go running after my girls to keep them from harming themselves.

We went camping a bit west of where we live, by my aunt's camper, on a campground called Bark River Campground.  It's a quaint place, enormous in size, you can actually ride a golf cart around it and it'll take you a bit to get back to your starting point. 

They have a swimming pool, a rather large playground, a lodge where you can get pretty much whatever fried food you want.  LOL  They have fun games for all the kids and adults, alike.  It's a great place.  And my aunt's camper has all the amenities of home; flushing toilet, shower, hot running water, electricity, stove, microwave, pretty much everything and it has sleeping room for about nine or more people.

She has a small yard in front of her camper where she has a rather large fire pit, a couple of picnic tables, some chairs, a huge coniferous tree in the front yard, too.  It's a beautiful little place.

In front of the trailer is a narrow paved road for everyone to get around on that goes basically anywhere you need to get to around the campground.  And the little street gets pretty busy on a weekend like Fourth of July.

Do you think my girls would stay out of that damn road considering how many times I yelled at them not to?!   Of course not!

I spent half my time flying out of my chair and running after them into the street so they wouldn't get run over by a golf cart.  We even tried fencing the yard in a little bit with some rope and stakes but nooooo....no.  Not my girls.  They just went under/over/around them.

The rest of my day was spent keeping them out of the fire pit, off the front porch where they enjoyed racing back and forth and playing with the sliding glass door (I owe my aunt $20 for a new screen she had to buy because my girls destroyed the one that came with the camper) and basically keeping them as busy and occupied as possible so they wouldn't get into the street for the umpteenth time.

Then there was the tiring task of trying to get them to nap in a tent during the hot, bright daytime hours so they could stay up and watch fireworks...that never happened.

Who would have thought that bringing two toddlers camping would be such a chore!? 

LOL

I knew it was going to be bad when we had to pack up half of our belongings into our van before we could even leave the house.  My oldest with her blankets and pillows and my youngest needed her own blankets and pillows, then a pack n' play, sleeping bags, pillows and blankets for mom and dad, more clothing per child per two day stay than one would have thought you'd need but I ended up using all of them...add in food and beverages, two car seats, a rather large, green plastic wagon with attachable trailer for the girls to ride around in while mom and dad walk around the campground and you've got one packed minivan and two exhausted parents before the trip even started.

Now, don't get me wrong, I enjoyed the camping trip with my girls and my husband very much but it didn't seem like much of a "mini-vacation" to me, as my husband so poignantly put it when he was trying to convince me to take the hour drive west of our home with our two toddlers.

All in all, it wasn't a bad trip.  It was fun for us all, swimming in the pool,  playing on the playground, walking around the campsite and petting all the dogs we came across.  They loved to play outside in the open air all day and even enjoyed just sitting around the fire on mom and dad's laps when it started to get dark.

Would I do it all over again exactly the same way?

Honestly?  Probably not.  I would rethink sleeping arrangements, i.e. bring another pack n' play. 

I would most definitely not stay two nights and I'm thinking about investing in a cot or two instead of the damned air mattress we have that only stays partially inflated throughout the night.  So your ass end is on the hard ground and your feet and head are up in the air which in turn gives you the most uncomfortable crick in your neck and back.

I wouldn't do leashes, although the idea has crossed my mind several times in the last 2.5 years, especially since my girls are a lot faster than I am.

I wouldn't change much because the experience alone was good for all of us.  It taught me a lot of things about myself and I'm pretty sure it taught my girls a lot of things about nature, mom's patience level and dad's tolerance for mom's bitchiness when things stop following the plan.

I found out my oldest is deathly afraid of heights, just like her mommy.

I found out my youngest loves the water and particularly enjoys being thrown into it, as long as someone is there to catch her.

I found out that most strangers think my girls are twins and are absolutely adorable even though they're about 11 months apart and look nothing like each other.  LOL

I guess, in the end, I would do it again.  It was a good experience for my girls and a great experience for me and dad.  I'm just happy that at the end of the day, when all is said and done, I can honestly tell people that I have gone camping with my children and we all enjoyed ourselves, despite the few hiccups and setbacks and nuances. 

But maybe next time I'll wait til they're three and four....and potty trained.  LOL

Surviving and Scared Turns Into Scarred Success

Some of you may or may not know but I had spinal surgery back in May of this year.   I had to have a cyst removed from my right sciatic nerve root in my lower lumbar spine that had been plaguing me with chronic low back pain for over ten years.

For ten years, I was just surviving, just making it through every day one step at a time.  One painful movement at a time, I made it through and survived but I was scared...my worst nightmare had always been surgery and I didn't want to do it.

I'm not gonna lie, I wanted nothing to do with putting a few sharp instruments near my spinal nerves, in my spine (yea they had to dig out part of the cyst from my spinal nerve root's home in my spinal column, it had grown that far in), and around my nerves that control my legs.

The first time surgery was talked about to fix the problems I was having, they had told me ten years ago that there was an 80% chance that I would lose most of the use of my right leg.

When I heard that percentage rate, I said no.  I said, hell no, to be exact.  LOL

So I decided at the time that I could try to live a normal life with the pain by controlling it with pain medication...which slowly but surely increased in dosage and brought on another problem.

My body became addicted to the codeine....and I noticed it.  The twinge in my shoulder blades when I tried to wait longer and take fewer of my pills.  The twitches and muscle spasms that you can't control when you go through withdrawal from a medication that my body has been used to for about 8 years. 

My pills....what a mess that became.

Oxycodone 20 mg every four hours round the clock and Morphine Sulfate extended release 30 mg every 12 hours was where I was at when I decided things needed to change.  I couldn't take it anymore.  The pharmacy staff were starting to look at me like some kind of a drug addict, a "pill popper" if you will.  I had to wake up in the middle of the night to take a pill, wait for it to work and then finally get back to sleep just to wake up four hours later and repeat the process only this time...I don't get to go back to sleep....I have to be up for the day. 

The amount of paperwork and checks they have to do is astounding, all just to dish out a few pills.  A few man-made chemicals "derived" from plants.  I put that in quotations because lets be honest here, few plants were harmed in the making of those pills, especially with today's chemical technology.

But I digress, I was tired of the withdrawal symptoms, the constant checking what time it is, waking up in the middle of the night in excruciating pain and having no choice but to pop a pill in your mouth and swallow and wait for things to feel better in about 20 minutes.

"Screw this!" I said to myself after the umpteenth time my meds were talked about being changed and the pharmacy talked about the pills becoming less and less available because of the DEA.  I had had enough!  

The drug screens to check what all you're taking to make sure nothing interferes and you're following the program properly.  No extracurricular drug activity for me!  LOL

I always loved the green but anyway...moving on.

I sat down and had a long talk with my husband.  I asked him what his thoughts were and if he was capable of being there for me if that 80% chance of losing the use of my right leg was still a possibility.  I also asked him if he would be able to handle me not being able to pick up our two young daughters for at least 6 months.  Our girls are ages 1 and 2 years old.  I wanted to make sure he would be capable of taking care of our girls needs since I would be basically bedridden for about 2 months. 

He said yes and I was elated.  I had my support and my backbone behind me.  So I went to my doctor and asked him what the hell could be done about my back pain and if surgery was still a possibility.

He also said yes and sent me for an MRI.  That's when my life changed forever.

You see, up until about this time last year, I had no idea that a cyst pressing on my nerve root had been the cause of most, if not all, of my pain.   And it could be removed.  The nerves could be decompressed and the pain could be mostly relieved if everything went right during surgery. 

I had always been told my pain was due to a twist in my spine from a car accident I was in many many years ago.  Turns out, they were wrong.  I still have a weird twist in my spine that causes some mild discomfort on the daily, the nerve pain was constant though, just terrible and constant.  And my right big toe was constantly numb (I can now feel it fully).

So not only was it not from a twist in my spine but from an actual cyst, I also found out that I have what is known as a pars defect.  You can find out more info on that here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Spondylolysis

I was scared...so scared.  And I needed to sit down.

I started having nightmares about surgery going all wrong because my PTSD gets really bad when my anxiety gets out of control and OMG I WAS GOING IN FOR SURGERY!

I have BABIES NOW!

What the F@&K was I going to do if something went wrong?!

It's not just ME I have to worry about now!  It's me and my husband and my TWO daughters.

I about fainted.  I ain't gonna lie.  When it finally hit me that I was going to have someone cut me open and go digging around inside and near my spinal column to remove a long time cyst that had found it's way around my nerve root and into the facet joint....I was so dizzy I'm glad I was sitting already. 

They called me in for an appointment to meet the man that would change my life forever, Dr. Max Lee, a top notch neurosurgeon in my area, that my insurance covers.  Wow, I know, how lucky am I!?  RIGHT?!

He is amazing.  He's a bit shy, a bit geeky but what great doctors aren't a little odd?  Am I right?

He even noticed that I had a severe amount of back pain just from getting up and down off the examination table.  I wasn't even going in because of the back pain, I was going in to have him remove the cyst and get rid of the nerve pain.  The back pain I figured I'd always have to live with.

Boy was I wrong.  That cyst caused an awful lot of chronic pain that I no longer have. It changed my life drastically.   You see up until the removal of the cyst I couldn't even apply light pressure to the middle right lower part of my back without causing intense pain.  I mean INTENSE pain. 

But that all went away, I can even handle having my husband rub my low back again and massage out the knots  I could never have him do that before, it just hurt too much. 

The burning sensations and constant throbbing pain that was going down my right leg...gone.

Numbness in my big toe....gone.

Don't get me wrong, I have some residual burning every now and again down my right leg but it doesn't stay.  It isn't constant.   And it's nowhere near as bad as it used to be...nowhere near.

Recovery after surgery was beyond painful.  My back was so bloated and swollen and bruised it was disgusting to even think about, let alone look at in the mirror.  My incision, less than 2 inches long was glued together at the surface but had dissolving stitches deeper down. 

It was a long slow and painful few months, my nerves in my back were all out of whack because my surgeon moved them around to decompress them.They were painful and swollen, I could them, swollen and throbbing in the base of my spine and nothing would take that nerve pain away. 

I could literally feel my nerves settling back into place and had a nagging but yet somehow snapping feeling in my right sciatic nerve every time I stood up or sat down or moved positions...it was bad. 

Now I have had a couple of setbacks....I managed, somehow, to pull both of the long muscles in my low back that attach to my pelvis and hold me upright.  LOL

Even my own doctor didn't know how to explain how I did it but I did it and oh boy.  I pulled both of them but the one on the left is way more painful than the one on the right.

Then during one of my many visits with my physician, he asked me when the last time I had facet steroid injections.  It had been a while, over 9 months prior.  Then he nodded at me and said that he figured out how I pulled both of those muscles.....they've been weakened from the many steroid injections I have had in the past to try and get rid of the pain.  So they're more easily damaged, since they're weaker than they should be.  In laments terms, my back muscles are too weak to hold me upright and now I have to go through physical therapy. 

I hate physical therapy.  They always bitch at me about my posture.  The posture I adopted after having to hunch over for about 10 years to relieve pain in my low back is not good for keeping my muscles strong and flexible.  So there's that.

And then there's another problem.  I have a new pain, the pain in my left low back is from a pulled muscle, it's something I've never done before so I don't know how to cope with it.  I don't know how to ignore it and keep going. I have to relearn how to do that with this new pain.   It's very unlike my constant daily nagging pain in my right low back that surgery got rid of for me. 

It's new, it's different, it's something I've never dealt with so I don't cope with it very well and end up sounding whiny about my back hurting all day long.  (Insert sad face) LOL

I don't want to nor mean to sound whiny all day long when I complain about how my back is feeling terrible all day every day lately because I can't seem to just rest and relax it like my doctor told me I should be doing to it so it can heal better and faster.

Then I threw yet another monkey wrench into my cogs....I decided to come off all of my narcotics. 

Yes, you read that right.  I am no longer taking ANY narcotics.  I came off my last one, Oxycodone, this month.  The twitching and involuntary muscles spasms from the withdrawal were...well, they were terrible.  And they're hard to describe...

It's as though your own body isn't your own anymore.  It's like your muscles and nerves have a mind of their own, you can't control them.  If your arm wants to spasm outward and then curl back up into a tight ball against your chest, there is only so much you can do to stop that from happening before it's going to happen.

And it gets violent, my husband has been slapped and elbowed and kicked and kneed all in the name of me coming off my narcotics which he is forever grateful for because he hated me taking them, too.  The damage done to my liver and the rest of my organs is unknown but it can't be good.

So I'm pain med free but not pain free.  But it's a start.  I figure if I can survive this without pain medication then maybe, just maybe, I'll have a better chance at living a long healthy life.  

So I consider my surgery a success and honestly, I'm still a little scared.  The pars defect I have means one day in the future, my surgeon said in the next 5-6 years, I will need surgery again for a spinal fusion to correct my pars defect. 

I'm not just surviving and scared anymore.  I'm a scarred success but a success nevertheless.  And even though I have more surgery in my future, I'm feeling good about it. 

Living With Chronic Pain Part2: It's More Than Chronic Pain

I've been doing some research on chronic pain.  It's something I have to deal with so I mine as well know more about it.  Right?

Well, statistical evidence has proven that those individuals who are suffering from daily chronic pain are also individuals who have a host of other medical problems to deal with.  Some of the most common ones are a mental health/chemical imbalance issue, such as bipolar disorder, depression, anxiety, insomnia, etc., but also anemia, low vitamin D levels, and very often gastrointestinal issues occur, as well.  The list is long so I won't put them all down here but I hope you get the idea.

The point I'm trying to make is that with chronic pain it isn't ever just chronic pain.  You also end up with this huge list of other medical issues.  And dealing with all of these things on top of your chronic pain really tires you out on the day to day.  You get sick of it after a while.  All the pills, the doctors, the trips to the hospital, some have even had to deal with countless surgeries to try and correct chronic pain problems or even some other chronic issues that require surgery like osteoarthritis, gastric issues...really, the list is like a mile and a half long so I'm not going to write them all down.

And when chronic pain has you down all day long, depressed because you're in pain and you've taken all the pain medication you can possibly take and you're lying there in bed, wanting nothing more than to cry and become invisible, when just a few mere moments of non-existence is all you need to be normal, to feel normal again, only a few minutes of peace where your body doesn't hurt, where your mind can relax, where you aren't feeling an ounce of pain, it's hard to remain positive and see the light at the end of the tunnel.

It's on those days, in those moments where you wish and hope and pray that someone or something would just take all the pain away from your body for even a minute, those days are the hardest to get by, to cope with, to make it through.  It's difficult for you to motivate yourself to even get out of bed, let alone take care of your children, change a diaper, make a cup, find something for them to eat, entertain them, clean up after them, do laundry, clean the house and then the doctor appointments and WIC appointments, and my own appointments for my own health care needs such as my psych doctor, my neurosurgeon, my regular physician, my chiropractor, my chronic pain specialist.

Then there are the appointments for my husband; eye doctor, urologist, regular physician and again, the chiropractor, the psych doctor, the pain management doctor...so many appointments to remember and keep scheduled properly and make sure there is gasoline to get to all of these appointments every month.

It's kind of like an artful ballet. We all dance around each other while trying not to step on each others toes in any fashion and yet, sometimes it happens and then you get an argument going and those are never good for me because my rage and anger are tough enough to cut through the fence of trees I put up to keep them at bay like a hot knife through butter.

These are things that normal parents worry about...what a normal parent usually doesn't have to worry about is whether or not they will actually feel like physically moving that day, will their body let them pick up their child without pain that day, will you even be able to function on a proper level that day or will your mind fail you and not allow you out of your pain induced haze to even properly answer a medical question for your child or husband.

It all depends on the day.  That's the sad part.  I plan my days just like most every other parent but sometimes things get left by the wayside because I physically or mentally can't tackle that task that particular day because I'm not feeling well.  

Not feeling well.  Saying, "I don't feel well today" is a common phrase I use.  So is, "I just don't feel right today, something's off".

On days where I'm not feeling well, I have a hard time getting anything done. 

Today, has been one of those days.  I just didn't feel like doing anything today.  I didn't want to get up at 6:30 am to take my best friend to work, I didn't want to clean, do laundry, make any kind of food item, change diapers, pick up my girls, just nothing!  

But I had to...I had no choice.  Life continues even when I don't feel like continuing. 

Post Surgery Update: The Swelling Has Finally Gone Down

I am officially 14 days/two weeks out of surgery.  My back is sore, achy, tender and bruised.  My wound is almost completely healed up.  My leg no longer burns constantly and rarely gives out on me anymore.  My wound itches something fierce and I want nothing more than to scratch at it like I'm some kind of a madman trying to filet my skin off with my own finger nails.

It's bad.  LOL

Three days after surgery I broke one of my teeth in half while eating homemade popcorn.  I hadn't even bitten into a crunchy or un-popped piece.  I was just chewing the light, fluffy, buttery, salty, slightly crunchy goodness of homemade popcorn and all of a sudden I bit down and my tooth cracked in half and part of it fell out.

At first, said tooth did not hurt, but as time has progressed and the wounded tooth has become worn down a bit on the inside from chewing on that side (I try SO HARD not to but sometimes it just happens) and the root is now exposed.  It hurts bad.  I have numbing medication with me everywhere I go.  I use it WHILE I'm eating.  I actually have to stop in between rounds of chewing to remove food from inside the tooth and apply numbing medication.

It sucks, it sucks major donkey balls.

I am lucky enough to have had a dear friend from out of state ask me if she could use this opportunity to pay it forward again, as someone had done for her husband when he needed emergency dental work.

I was thinking to myself how I wanted to deny her so badly at first.  How I wanted to tell her no, don't send me any money, I'll figure this out myself.  I always do.  I thought about how bad my tooth hurt and even tried to figure out how many days until I got paid again before I'd be able to pay for it on my own and then even went so far as to try and figure out my general budget for the month to see if I'd even be ABLE to pay for my own dental work.

All of this whipped through my head quickly before I answered...

...yes.

Yes, I wanted her to send me money so I can get my tooth fixed sooner than three weeks from now.  Yes, I wanted her to pay it forward again, through me, and feel good about herself by helping me out and I even went so far as to promise to pay it forward again once I got the chance to and I think I got that chance the other day.  Now I just need to get all of the girls baby stuff together, load it into the van and bring it to my friend Sami's house so she can get it to a young lady who is in serious need as she is six months pregnant and has NOTHING for her baby girl yet because of some sad and unforeseen circumstances.

So my friend is sending me a check for the money I need to get my tooth fixed.  Thank the gods.  I just need it pulled.  It is so broken that it is beyond repair and my insurance won't cover getting it fixed with a cap or an implant anyway.  And I can't find a dentist in my area who takes my damn insurance either which is why I need the cash to get my tooth pulled.

This kind and gentle young woman has a heart of gold and I thank her profusely for helping me in my time of need.  And as I stated above I am going to pay it forward again once I get the chance and I believe my chance has shown itself so tomorrow I'm going to get everything I have of the girls together and get it all packed into the van and bring it to my friend Sami so she can get it to this young woman who has absolutely nothing for her baby girl.

No worries though because with how much clothing I have and how much stuff I have that I no longer need for either of my girls because they have either A) outgrown them or B) don't use them anymore there will be plenty to go around.  Not to mention the endless supply of baby clothing I have from ages 0 to 18 months.

So there is a young woman out there who will be receiving a shit ton, I kid you not, a metric FUCK TON of baby girl stuff.

I believe, wholeheartedly, that this is a great way for me to pay it forward in return for what my dear friend is doing for me.

My back is feeling a bit better.  The constant nagging, pinching pain that was in my low back on the
right hand side is gone, completely gone.  That sciatic nerve is still sore and tender and throbbing most of the time but the burning is gone.  

Would you believe it!?  The burning pain I had for well over 8 years is friggin GONE!  ^-^  OMG!

I just hope and pray it stays gone.  I still have a pain that feels like my nerve is snapping like a rubber band whenever I take too big of a step or lift my right leg wrong.  It's annoying but it's getting better.

I could barely stand from a sitting position without pain for the first few days after surgery.  It hurt like hell and I was sent home the same day.  I was walking around that same day, at home, up stairs, down stairs, through the kitchen a few times, I was up and walking around.  It amazes me still.

I have to take a drug called Flexeril, a muscle relaxant, for the next six months to ensure I don't get any muscle spasms in my back since they didn't cut the muscles they just moved them out of the way to do the surgery.

Wow, right?!  Wicked cool! Also, scary as hell.  My incision is a mere 3 inches long.  There are no more steri-strips on it, it's all closed up and healed together with a nice scab over it.

The bruising has lightened up immensely.  It's that yellowish brown color bruises get when they are old.  It's looking and feeling a lot better than it did before.

I'm feeling a lot better than I did before and despite my weight restriction which does not allow me to pick up my daughters for the next three months, I'm doing well. 

Oh and the swelling...it's finally gone. LOL 

Happy Birthday....Month?

There is a strange set of occurrences that goes on in my household during the month of May.  Not only do we have the regular holidays of May Day (a big one in my house as we're Pagan), Mother's Day and Memorial Day, we also have four birthdays to shop for.  That's right, I said four birthdays.

The first birthday of the month happens on the 3rd, it's my younger sister's birthday.  She turned 27 years old this year.  And oh geez, does hearing that number make me feel old.  My younger sister, whom we shall lovingly refer to as Chibi (it's my special nickname for her), has Asperger's, a form of autism and according to her psychiatrist she will never mature past the age of 14, mentally.  It's a tough pill to swallow, knowing my sister will always be a teenager in her mind, but I don't love her any less because of it.  It makes me more cautious of her, I worry about her more, much more than I'm sure I would if she were mentally mature to her actual age but it goes with the territory I guess.

Second birthday of the month goes to my dear baby girl who just turned 1 year old yesterday, May 10th.  We'll lovingly call her, Tigga (it's a nickname her dad and I came up with a while back). We had a combined party for my girls, my oldest was born in June, she'll be 2 this year, we'll call her Ari for short.  It was an Art Party, we had crafts and painting, good food and friends, and so much fun. 

I let each of the kids attending paint a canvas however they wanted to with tempera paint and then I sealed them all with high gloss clear coat so they wouldn't run or chip or flake off.   I let them decorate their own cupcakes, it just all around loads of fun.

Let's not forget Mother's Day, that holiday is in there between my daughter's birthday and my birthday, which is next on the list of birthdays.  And Mother's Day is pretty important to my family 

The third birthday of the month belongs to me, May 21st.  I will be 31 years old this year and that scares me.  To be honest, that scares me a lot.  I have two beautiful babes who are growing by leaps and bounds every day, a loving husband who cares for me and pampers me constantly and I don't really notice the days passing anymore.  It all happens so fast and before I know it my youngest turned 1, my oldest will be 2 and all of my nieces and nephews are much older than I last remembered them to be. 

Anyway, continuing on.  There is Memorial Day in there to celebrate and last but not least is my lovely mother's birthday on May 29th.  She will be a whopping 59 years old this year and is beyond grateful I gave her two beautiful granddaughters before she turned 60 years old. LOL 

I guess what I'm getting at is the month of May is always my "go broke" month.  I am always broke in May, doesn't matter what time of the month you catch me, I will be broke regardless.  With so many holidays and birthdays in this month I just don't make enough money to cover them all and have some extra cash on hand. 

If you're into zodiac signs and their definitions or meaning in any fashion then this will interest you a bit.  My sister and my youngest daughter are both full Taurus'.  Myself am a Taurus/Gemini combo because I was born on the cusp/ the edge, the time when one sign starts and another begins.  My oldest daughter is a full Gemini.  And last but not least is my husband.  The odd ball out he is, because he's a Cancer/Leo.  LOL 

Basically, the summer months are my go broke months.  I hate it and love it at the same time. 

So there you have it, happy birthday month to me and the rest of my family members.  LOL 

BTW, I got a gorgeous new loop scarf, a brand spanking new leather watch, another knitted ivory scarf, a pair of mukluks, a sweet new pipe that turns green and pink when heated up and some other great stuff for mother's day and my birthday.  ;)

Post Surgery Update

On 05/13/2013 I underwent minimally invasive surgery to remove a synovial cyst that was wrapping around and pressing against my right sciatic nerve root.  The doctor was able to remove all of the cyst, thankfully, because this means less chance of it coming back.  He was also able to decompress most of my nerves that were already compressed because of the cyst.  Surgery lasted a little over 2 hours and I was sent home the same day.

Weird, I know.  Spinal surgery done and sent home the very same day only mere hours after having someone cut you open and dig around inside your spinal area to remove a cyst and decompress nerves is a scary thing...to a degree.  It also gives me a sense of wonder and amazement of how far we've come in medical science over the past 30 years or so.  

I say that because 30 years ago, I would still be in the hospital with a probably near foot long incision instead of a mere 2 inch incision along my spine, and I'd probably have lost use of my legs, at least temporarily until all the swelling went down.

But that's not how things happened.  I have a very small incision to worry about healing up properly, along with a whole lot of swelling and I can feel, literally FEEL how swollen my poor decompressed nerves are.  They hurt, they burn, they tingle, with every movement they are irritated.  I can't even sit up straight or lean forward like I used to, I'm in this constant half upright, half leaned forward position because that's what's most comfortable for me right now.

And my bedroom is on the second level of our home.  Stairs are assholes at this point.  You wanna know why?  Because with every step, every shift of my hips, every movement of my leg in any manner causes extreme shooting pains down my right leg.

That right sciatic nerve is beyond irritated, it's friggin angry at this point.  I can't move my neck too much, was told not to since it may cause undue irritation to my nerves in my low back and may even cause permanent nerve damage if I do too much repetitive motion with my head. 

I am not allowed to lift or carry anything over 5 lbs, this would include both my children because they both weigh over 20 lbs a piece.  A gallon of milk is almost out of the question, I tried, it hurt but I did it.  I won't be doing it again anytime soon, that's for sure. 

I went on my first outing out of the house today to run some errands for my girls, they needed their WIC stuff and I needed my anti-anxiety meds so my mother took me and my oldest daughter out.  Walking around the store was slow going and painful with every step.  Reaching for things was completely out of the question so I needed help there and I couldn't even try to lift the two gallons of milk to put them in the cart because I had already done too much and my nerves hurt bad. 

We then ventured to the pharmacy where I had to go inside and walk to the back of the store so I could get my prescription since their drive-thru was backed up and I really needed to get home.  That was also a mistake, walking through yet another store was not something I should have done but I did it anyway. 

And now I'm regretting it.  All of it.  I got home and helped carry groceries in (stupid idea), went upstairs to help my husband clean our room up a bit (another stupid idea), started laundry by myself (really stupid idea) and then I picked up my daughter by her arm and lifted her to my mother so she could get her butt changed (really really stupid idea).  

So now I'm sitting here, in regret, hurting quite a bit from things that could have been avoided but I'm not one of those people who can just sit back idly and do nothing while there are things that need to be done around me.  I have to help.  I feel compelled to help.  It's like I have no choice in the matter.  And I feel terrible when I can't help.  Really terrible.  Like a useless lump that is just sitting in the chair doing nothing being lazy even though that's not the case at all, that's how I feel. 

So aside from not following my discharge instructions to an exact "T", I've been pretty much lounging around in my pajamas since Tuesday evening, in excruciating pain, trying to find a comfortable position (which is a joke because there isn't one) and basically doing nothing. 

Then my body and Mother Nature throw me a curve ball to add to my misery.  I started my monthly cycle the same day of surgery and then while eating some of my famous homemade popcorn last night, half of my left front molar broke off.  *sigh*  I just can't win. 

Surprisingly, my tooth isn't painful.  This means that either A) My nerve died off ages ago which is a likely possibility considering the amount of trouble I've had with it in the past or B) It will become painful eventually and then it's going to hurt like a mofo til I get it pulled or capped. 

I have no money right now to get my tooth pulled.  I have no dentist in the area who will take my state insurance.  So I just have to live with a broken tooth for a while. 

All of this going on and there are still other things that need to be done and I can't do them yet because I can't drive myself and I can't pick up my kids and I can't ask my mother to drive me all over gods creation, I can't bend in the middle without excruciating pain in my hips and leg, can't twist, can't pick things up off the floor, can't stand to do dishes.  I even needed help taking a shower last night because it hurt too much to put my arms over my head to wash my hair. 

It's a long tough road of recovery ahead.  I was told between 6 and 9 weeks for full recovery.  I see my neurosurgeon next week Wednesday, the day after my birthday actually, to see if he'll finally clear me for driving and make sure my incision is healing well.

I'll keep you all updated on my progress and try to post more often.  I realize I've been slacking lately and I do apologize but I have had many many things on my mind as of late and my blog just got pushed to the back of my mind, is all.  Now that this surgery is all over with I hope to get back on track with all of my writing and blogging.  Thanks folks for sticking by me and being patient with me. 

I truly appreciate it.  You all are phenomenal people and I'm glad to count you as my fans.  :) 

Living With Chronic Pain Part 1: Does Surgery Always Have To Be Scary?

As some of you may or may not know, depending on if you follow me, I have had chronic low back pain for many years.  I recently found out that the supposed cause of all or most of my pain is a synovial or fluid filled cyst about 6 mm by 8 mm pressing and wrapped around my right sciatic nerve root in my lower lumbar spine.  This is supposed to be the cause of all of my low back aching, throbbing and stabbing and also the cause of the numbness, tingling, weakness and burning I have going on in my right leg.

I have also been informed that I have a pars defect. In laments terms this means I have a birth defect in one of my lumbar vertebra causing it to never fully fuse together.  It's a hereditary thing and both my mother and sister have it, as well.  I honestly never thought I would have it, too. 

Knowing what I know now, my life has changed forever.  I have to go in for surgery to have this cyst removed and hopefully reduce if not completely remove this pain that I have every day, regardless of weather or physical condition of the day, I am always in pain.  That's what chronic pain is.

Chronic pain is endless.  It never goes away.  It's always there.  You have your good days, where pain isn't so bad and you can function better than your bad days where you can barely move (today is one of the bad days, I woke up unable to sit forward) but no day is a day without pain.  I'm not even joking about that.

I have no days where I am feeling no pain. On a scale of 1-10, 1 being little to no pain and 10 being the pain of birth which is the greatest pain I've ever felt before in my life, I live, on average, with a pain level of 5-7.  Every. Single. Day.

That's chronic pain.  That's why some days I have no issues getting up and moving and other days it takes me hours, literally HOURS to go and do something that would take an average person only an hour or so.

What takes me so long, you wonder?  I have to motivate myself to want to move.  I am that uncomfortable some days.  So under the knife I go, to find out if getting this cyst removed will decrease my pain at all. 

I have to remember that I have other issues besides just this cyst causing me daily pain but the root of most of my pain is in my back and leg on the right hand side at the base of my spine.  I can't even press on that spot because of increased pain.  I can barely wear tight pants because if they press on that part of my spine in any way I am beyond uncomfortable.

Surgery is a scary thought, for me anyway.  I don't like the idea of being cut open and having someone dig around inside to fix a problem my body created due to extreme stress on that area no matter how skilled or qualified said person is.

I don't like the idea of being completely and totally out of it and having no control over a situation.  That's where the anxiety about surgery comes from.  I don't like not having control of my own life, my own body.

And the panic starts to set in.

Why does surgery always have to be scary?  Because it is.  It's a scary thing.  Your life and all things in it and about it are the hands of another human being.  And it matters to me that he's qualified, Dr. Max Lee, the neurosurgeon who is doing my surgery (whom I will shameless plug because he's the most qualified in his field in my area of the country) but at the same time, it doesn't.

I know this blog is all over the place.  And I'm sorry for that. I try to keep things organized but on bad pain days like today, I just can't.

The reason it matters to me is because I'm not going to let just anyone dig around near my spine with needles and sharp instruments.  I'm also not going to just let anyone with a qualification to do it dig around in their, either though.  I want to think and feel that the person doing this surgery actually cares about me and my well being.  I want to think that they have a heart and are actually worried about how I will fare during and after surgery.  I don't want them thinking I'm just another statistic, another body, another number, another surgery, another dollar sign, etc.

This means a lot to me and worries me at the same time.  I don't like it.  I don't like being scared.  I don't like thinking I may not make it through this with good results.  So I have to stay positive.

Try as I might, that is one of the hardest things for me to do because surgery is scary.  And it always will be.  

Sometimes They're Wrong

Being a born and raised American from a small town in the state of Wisconsin, also having a mother with a medical background and having one myself, I put a lot of faith in the medical field over the years.  Well, lately, my faith in them has been slowly dwindling into nothingness.

Here's why:  I have been told for years that the reason I have so much back and leg pain is because my spine is twisted funny to the right in one spot low in my lumbar spine and then again just below that it twists funny to the left.  This has supposedly been causing mass amounts of pressure on my sciatic nerves that run to my legs but primarily on the right.  I have been told this for over 8 years.

Well guess what?  That's not what my problem is.  That's not what's causing my pain.  In fact, the odd twist in my spine isn't even as bad as they made it sound.  It's nothing that my regular chiropractic care won't eventually get rid of and has immensely improved over the last four years.  And yet, as the twists have straightened out my back pain has increased.

I have been informed recently that I have a synovial cyst pressing against my right sciatic nerve root at my L4-L5 junction.  This is causing daily excruciating pain, terrible numbness, tingling and burning and a newer symptom of uncontrollable muscle spasms in my big thigh muscles. 

I have done all other options to reduce the swelling of this cyst and to help maintain the pain and nothing is working.  In fact, the last set of steroid injections I received made my leg pain ten times worse.  So I have to face the absolute last resort to get rid of this constant pain...surgery. 

I see a neurosurgeon at the end of this month for a consultation to find out what exactly they're going to be doing and if I'm going to need a spinal fusion on top of removal of the cyst. 

Frankly, ladies and gentleman, I am scared.  I'm scared out. of. my. mind. 

On top of the daily grind and the extra doctor appointments, I'm also trying to plan a move.  All of this stress, all of this anxiety I have going on in my mind is making me beyond tense.  My shoulders and neck are so sore from the tension.  It's unbelievable. 

I need an escape, a vacation.  Something.  I feel like I'm losing my mind. 

The Pledge of Allegiance Should Be Just That

The Pledge of Allegiance.  It amazes me how something can be so controversial and how so many people can have varying views and opinions and even definitions of it when most of the time, the ones with such adamant opinions of it don't even know the entire history of the pledge. . 

The Pledge of Allegiance was originally written in 1892 by Frances Bellamy, a baptist minister and a Christian Socialist.  His original Pledge of Allegiance read like this: "I pledge allegiance to my Flag and the Republic for which it stands, one nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all".  

The original pledge was written and put into a Christian youth magazine to help instill a sense of patriotism in our nation's children and was actually a promotional stunt to help grow flag sales and sales of the magazine it was put in called The Youth's Companion. 

Later on, in 1923 the words "my Flag" were changed to "the Flag of the United States" and the words "of America" were added at the end one year later in 1924.  It was officially recognized by congress in this form "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the Republic for which it stands, one Nation indivisible, with liberty and justice for all" on June 22nd, 1942. 

Years later, The Knights of Columbus were noted to have added "under God" in 1951.  With the help of president Eisenhower and congress the words "under God" were officially added into the Pledge of Allegiance on June 14th, 1954.  Which brings us to the current Pledge of Allegiance which reads: "I pledge allegiance, to the flag of the United States of America and to the Republic for which it stands, one nation, under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all." 

So there's the history of it.  Now let's discuss why so many people are offended when someone refuses to say "under God" or even stand up for the pledge. 

In my personal opinion,if someone doesn't wish to say the pledge at the beginning of the school day or whenever it may be said, it doesn't mean they aren't patriotic, it doesn't mean they're a terrorist, it doesn't mean they hate America.  To me, it means they don't want to show their patriotism in such a way.  It could also mean they don't want to repeat the pledge because of the "under God" portion since they don't believe in God. 

Let me ask you this, is it really so wrong that someone who doesn't believe in God doesn't repeat the Pledge of Allegiance since it interferes with their religious beliefs? 

Wasn't our country founded by a group of people who were tired of religious prosecution so they came to America for religious freedom? 

This post came about because I read a post on facebook about a young man who was in school and reciting the Pledge but his classmate was not.  When he asked his classmate why he wasn't reciting the pledge the classmate responded by saying he did not believe in God.  The young man, a noted Christian, then punched his classmate in the face.  The young man was suspended for three days and thought that it was completely unnecessary for his school to discipline him in such a way.

I'm sorry, but isn't our country all about tolerance of other cultures and religions?  Aren't we called the Melting Pot of the world? 

No one should be physically assaulted simply because they don't believe in the same deity as you.  No one should be afraid to state their religious beliefs for fear of being punched in the face.  Especially, in school. 

This is a touchy topic for me, personally, because I've been a practicing Pagan for the past 17 years.  In high school I was not only criticized but also ridiculed for not wanting to recite the pledge at the beginning of the day because I did not believe in God. 

No child should be put through that.  And if you ask me, the "under God" portion should be removed, especially with today's variety of religions and religious beliefs in our public schools.  It's as though our government is asking all of our children to conform to their beliefs by reciting the pledge as it's written today and that's just not right. 

Freedom of speech. Freedom of religion.  Acceptance of your fellow man regardless of religious or political views.  Those are the things our children should be taught at the beginning of the day. 

 Now don't misunderstand.  I love my country.  I love the freedom I'm given, the freedom our fellow Americans fight for us to have every day. 

What I don't love about my country is how religious and political prosecution still run rampant.  We're in the 21st century folks.  Don't you think these things should be far behind us and that we should learn to at least accept our fellow human beings regardless of what their beliefs are? 

I'm not talking about a Utopian society, I just want to be able to walk down the street or go to the store and not be ridiculed or looked at funny or talked about behind my back all because I don't believe in the same god as those doing the talking and giving the funny looks. 

I want my girls to grow up in a world where being a Pagan doesn't make you "weird" or "a hippie".  I want them to be accepted just like every other human being in our nation should be.

Is that really too much to ask?  I don't think so.  Changes need to be made and soon, before another child gets punched in the face for being different. 

When A Side Effect Is More Than Just A Side Effect

I'm bipolar, we all know this.  It is extremely hard for me to control my mood swings and my temper because of this. So my hubs and I sometimes get into wicked arguments about things that are just pointless to argue about. 

This morning was a huge for instance of this.  A fight over a dish.  Yep, that's right.  A dish that I put in the sink and it clanked against another dish making a loud noise so my hubs assumed I threw it in the sink out of anger.

Yes, I was angry but not so much that I threw said dish. 

Well, one misunderstanding turned into another and I started yelling because he started yelling which woke up my mother and she got pissed and it all got out of hand. 

All, over a dish. 

Do you have any idea how frustrating it is to not be able to control your emotions?

You just swing into a mood and there is almost nothing you can do about it but ride it out and wait for your sanity to come back.  

It makes you hate yourself, makes you think it's always your fault that you're arguing with the one you love with every fiber of your being.  It hurts deep down, deep in your soul. 

And the reason I titled this post the way I did is because one of the side effects of my bipolar medication is irritability and lack of ability to control your anger outbursts.

Effin wonderful, right?  Either I am beyond insane from mood swings or I'm irritable and there's nothing I can do about it.  

So when is a side effect more than just a side effect? 

When it starts to interfere with your personal relationships, is what I say. 

So tomorrow I'm making an appointment with my psychiatrist and we're going to figure this shit out because I can't continue to hurt the ones I love like this.  Not anymore. 

There has to be something he can do, if not, I'm totally screwed. 

Wish me luck.

I Don't Always Like You But I'll Always Love You

This post is brought about by an argument my husband and I had, are having, whatever you want to call it.  I don't know. 

Let's get down to the point. You can love someone and not like them at the same time.

For instance, I will always, always love my husband.  ALWAYS.   Our phrase we use with each other when we're talking all mushy gushy is "forever and always". 

I will forever love this man and always will.  However, I sometimes don't like him. 

For instance, when he's being extra snarky and I just want a decent response from him I don't like him.  Not one bit.  I don't need snarky remarks when I'm trying to get something done and he's all about pushing my buttons and making jokes.  That's just one for instance. 

And it's OKAY to feel this way.  You don't always have to like the person you love.  You don't always have to like what they do or say.  That's the beauty of being in a relationship with someone you love.  It's about compromise. 

Because life isn't perfect.  Love isn't perfect. Nothing in life or on this planet is perfect and you don't always like the same things as everyone else.  That's what makes you, you. 

You have different interests than your best friend of some odd years but you DO share some of the same interests and that's what keeps you together. 

Another for instance, my bestie of 20 years now is a huge D&B, Trance and Techno music fan.  Now I'll admit, I do have a fondness for some of it but I don't usually like it.  What I do like is heavy metal, rock, dubstep, goth rock and a little bit of alternative music.  This doesn't mean I don't still LOVE my bestie.  Hell, we've known each other for 20 years!  Of course we still love each other! 

But I don't always like her.  She makes poor decisions sometimes, hell, who doesn't?  She has a fondness for candy raisins (ewwww).  She sometimes gets into situations that I couldn't imagine how.  And I don't like those things about her but, again, I still love her. 

My daughters, I don't like them when they're screaming because I took away the toy they've thrown across the room for the umpteenth time but I will forever love them. 

I hope I'm getting my point across.  You can love someone and not always like them or the things they do.  And that's okay. 

So don't beat yourself up the next time you see your husband feeding your daughters chocolate cake for breakfast and you realize you don't like him at that moment because at the end of the day, you still snuggle up by his side and kiss him goodnight and tell him the same thing, every night. 

I love you, forever and always. 

The Great Ear Piercing Debate

Alright folks, this has been a topic I've seen rolling through my newsfeeds for weeks now.  To pierce your daughters ears or not to, that is the ultimate question.

Some people think piercing a young girls ears is the same pain equivalent as a circumcision for a boy (we'll get into the great circumcision debate later on in a different post).  And also the same kind of pushing your beliefs onto your child without their knowledge at such a young age because they can't tell you for themselves whether or not they want it done. 

My theory is this:  If you want to pierce your child's ears for whatever reason, go ahead and do it but don't be surprised if you get some backlash because not everyone shares your beliefs.  Some think it's more torture than anything else and that you're doing it for cosmetic reasons that aren't morally "right". 

In some religions, however, ear piercing is just as common as circumcision, if not more so, such as the Hindu culture.  They pierce young girls ears and noses for the sake of their religious beliefs.  Just like in the Jewish culture circumcision is done because of religious beliefs. 

IF you're going to get your young daughter's ears pierced please do me a favor and don't, I repeat, DO NOT take her to the mall and have some young, inexperienced teenage girl do it with a piercing gun. 

Piercing guns hurt, they are painful, they pinch and stab and it isn't always quick.  Also, it's not always clean.  You don't know if they actually cleaned the gun apparatus after the last piercing they did.  You don't know how sterile the rest of the equipment they're using is.   And from personal experience, they are NOT as gentle as an actual body piercer is. 

An article I read earlier today brought about this post.  I'll link it up for you right here: http://healthland.time.com/2012/02/07/why-i-took-my-7-year-old-to-a-tattoo-parlor/

I would much prefer that if you are absolutely dead set on getting your young child's ears pierced, get them done by an actual piercing PROFESSIONAL.  Someone who does this on a regular everyday basis.  Someone who has pierced more skin than the kiosk people in the mall could ever imagine. 

Tattoo parlors and piercing parlors are far more clean than you would think.  They have very strict health code standards to abide by in order to continue to do business.  So if you're seriously going to do this to your child's body then do your research and find a place that has been around for a long time. 

Go in on your own at first, talk with the people there, get to know what the process is going to be.  Ask questions!  Get answers!  Just do your homework. 

My personal belief, I'll let my girls tell me if and when they want their ears pierced and when or if they do, I'll be taking them to the same piercing parlor I go to for my own piercings.  It's just good parenting on my part, in MY opinion, to do things that way rather than put my child through the awful torture I went through at 13 when I finally got MY ears pierced by a madwoman wielding a piercing gun at a mall kiosk. 

If nothing else, at least take it into consideration and go through the pros and cons before you jump the gun. 

The Reasons I Wake Up Every Morning

Let me tell you a story.  A long, long time ago, in a land far away, a woman was living her life filled with depression, doubt, loneliness and sorrow.  A fair maiden she was but the knight in shining armor she longed for so desperately seemed endlessly lost. 

She would bide her time with books, music, friends, movies, internet research, writing, painting and so much more.  Yet there was an emptiness inside her, a whole in her heart that none of those things was filling. 

Try as she might she could not lift herself out of her depression and so it worsened and worsened to the point she barely left her humble abode to see the outside world.  Everything she could ever need or want was at her fingertips, a click of a key and a package would arrive at her door to bring her what she desired.

But the void remained.  Long, lonely nights kept her awake, she developed an aching in her heart.  Years went by and her knight was yet to be found.  She began to give up hope. 

Her hurting went deep, deeper than the knife she used to express her pain through slicing her flesh.  A "cutter" they called her.  "Depression with manic episodes" they labeled her.  "Insomnia" was her demon. 

They stuffed pills into her mouth and forced them down her throat until she could no longer feel anything.  A walking zombie, no emotion, no affect, no feelings at all. 

No laughter erupted from her mouth, no smiles crossed her face, her eyes began to lose their shine. 

Then something magical happened.  A friend realized her needs.  Realized her desires.  Her necessity to care for others, others to call her own.  Her friend realized that the nights out dancing and drinking, going to movies, babysitting others' children weren't enough for the fair maiden any longer. 

She needed her own life, not to live vicariously through the lives of others.  No longer could the friend stand to see the dear fair maiden suffer through such internal turmoil. 

The friend pushed the fair maiden, pushed and pushed, until finally the fair maiden gave in to her friend's demands. 

The friend's demands were simple.  The fair maiden was to start actively searching for her Knight instead of waiting for him to find her. 

The road was rough, as she knew it would be, she needed guidance, which her friend gladly gave, she needed persuasion, her friend obliged willingly so the fair maiden would see that she was not completely alone. 

Then it happened.  One cool spring night many moons ago the fair maiden met her Knight.  She was timid at first, as was he, but the conversations were long and endless.  Infatuation began, slowly it dissolved into lust and after the lust began to fade, love grew in its place.

The fair maiden had found her Knight.  Her Knight had found his maiden and together they lived happily for quite some time. 

Something amazing happened then, the Knight asked the maiden to marry him, to be his for all eternity and beyond, forever and always.  The maiden accepted with giddy excitement. 

She had found love, a forever kind of love.  The two were blissfully happy for many months.  Then the maiden started to feel ill.

The things she used to like and love, no longer satisfied her.  She worried she was going back into that dark hole she had worked so hard to crawl out of but the fates had something far more magical and wondrous in store for her. 

The maiden became pregnant.  The Knight was ecstatic.  His chest puffed up with pride.  They would have a child together. 

Nine long months later, their princess was born.  Beautiful as the sunrise, fair haired and skinned with bright blue eyes and curly locks of gold, the princess was their most treasured possession. 

Their family was complete. 

But once again, the fates had more in store for the Knight and the fair maiden, whom he now referred to as his Queen. 

A second child, another blessing from the gods. 

The Knight was ecstatic, yet again, and the Queen was elated. 

Her heart, she felt it, whole inside her chest. Overflowing with warmth and love and light and reasons to wake up every morning. 

The Knight and his Queen had their two little princesses and they've lived happily ever after ever since.  Their story is not complete, in fact it has just begun, but now that they have each other, all is right with their world.

THE END

P.S.  This is my story.  These three people whom I hold so dear are the reason my heart is whole to this day. 

They are my reasons to wake up every morning.  

Time Is Relevant

Has anyone ever pondered what the title of this post means?  What does it mean to you?  Time is relevant. 

We all are slaves to this 24 hour cycle our world revolves around.  24 hours in a day, 60 minutes in an hour, 60 seconds in a minute, etc. etc.

You can't change it.  It's a constant.  It never ends, never stops, never goes backwards, always moving forward.  Constant. 

Your day revolves around it, everyone's day revolves around it.  Every single person on this planet has a day that begins and ends with the sunrise and sunset and even if you don't pay attention to the sunrise or sunset your universal clock does and if you regard time by any kind of time keeping piece then you are a slave to the sunrise and sunset just like the rest of us. 

Regardless of whether or not you notice the actual physical universal timing, your day begins when you wake up and ends when you go to sleep. 

And that cycle continues.  It's all about time even if you don't have a watch or other time telling device to refer to.  Even then, the sun tells time.  If you know how to read it, you'll always know what time it is.  And when the sun is down, the moon takes its place and you can tell time that way, too. 

If it's a new moon and the moon isn't visible you're SOL I guess.

My point in all this is, we all have a schedule of some sort that relates to time.  You wake up to an alarm, you're a victim to time.  You have to get to work by a set TIME.  You have to have lunch at work at a set TIME. 

You have to have meals at a set time if you have certain medical disorders so you need to know what time it is. 

Here's the relevant part. 

Time is relevant to each individual.  Let me explain what relevant means by consulting our fine internet dictionary at dictionary.com:

Relevant

adjective

bearing upon or connected with the matter in hand; pertinent: a relevant remark.

 

Let's say you have an appointment at 3 pm.  It's a terribly important doctor's visit that you can't miss. You're in a hurry and the person in front of you is driving the exact speed limit, you're running a little late because of whatever reason, this person irritates you, your blood pressure begins to rise, you are frustrated and want nothing more than to get away from this person but it's as though they are going exactly where you are because they remain in front of you.  

 

And your frustration grows.  You get to your appointment on time.  Things are fine.  

 

But let's get back to the person who was driving the exact speed limit in front of you and irritating you, who ended up not going where you were headed but in the same general direction.  They don't care that you have a very important doctor's appointment at 3 pm.  They don't even know you have an appointment.  To them, you're just another vehicle on the road. Just another person behind them while they drive to their destination.  Which could be anywhere!  

 

They could have been coming home from a funeral.  They could have been on their way to a friend's house for a visit.   Wherever they were going, they got in your way and frustrated you because you were on a time constraint and they weren't.  It's relevant.  The matter in YOUR hand was not the matter in THEIR hand and therefore it didn't matter to them.   It isn't pertinent to them that you get to your appointment on time.  It's pertinent to them that they get where they are going.  

It's all relevant.  

Just like for a toddler their day starts when they wake up, regardless of what time it is, like say 5 am.  

And why?  Because they can't tell time yet, they don't care that Mommy and Daddy didn't get to bed until 2 am.  They're ready to get up and play and begin their day.  Even though Mommy is exhausted, Daddy is still sleeping and so is the babe.  

But none of that matters to you, either, does it? 

And why?   

Because it's not relevant to you.  So there you have it.  An explanation to the age old adage about time.  

Now please excuse me while I go lay my child back down and try to explain all this to her.  I know she won't care but I have to try.

What Counts As ":Poison"?

I read a blog today about Subway and how it's ingredient listings are deceitful as to how "healthy" they may actually be.  I read the blog in its entirety and honestly, I can't give it full credit on it's content and claims. 

Here's the blog for you to base your own opinion upon from what you read and then we'll go from there:  http://www.hangthebankers.com/the-subway-deception/

Read it?  Good. No?  Whatever, we'll move on despite your lack of wanting to read such an unnecessarily long blog without proper credit, claims, fact finding or resource statements.  I really don't blame you if you don't want to.

Now, with all of that being said, which was basically someone telling you they went on their own fact finding mission with not much study work to back it all up and found out that Subway really is just as terrible for you as the other big name fast food chains.  I find it mind boggling that this person was so shocked about the way Subway cuts, preps and packages their ingredients before sending them off to their individual stores for use on a daily basis. 

It's supposed to be "fresh", they said.  Well, how fresh can you expect something to be when it comes from a fast food chain? 

We all know fast food doesn't mean healthy food.  We all realize this and have either come to terms with the fact that our great nation is okay with our food suppliers using preservatives up the whazoo along with growth hormones and more things that we can't even pronounce and therefore should have no business being in our bodies in the first place or we just deny the fact and continue on with our lives as though these things don't exist.

We keep eating the crap that is served to us so readily and easily at McDonald's, Burger King, Hardee's, Arby's, KFC, Taco Bell, Quizno's, Subway, Cousin's Subs, Wendy's, Qdoba, Noodles and Company and even *gasp* Starbucks!  The treachery!

Look people, the list of mass food suppliers that sell us preservative laden foods is beyond long compared to the list of mass food suppliers that pride themselves on being whole and organic.

And why?  Because it's cheap!

That's what it fucking comes down to, ladies and gents.  It's cheaper to go and harvest a crop that has been covered in pesticides and treated with chemicals to keep them healthier and heartier than it is to go and do things the old fashioned way having to battle bugs and molds and diseases on your plants which inevitably drives costs up making your whole and organic foods more expensive in the long run. 

And what do people say to back up their claims that only right minded people who care about their and their family's overall health have to say about it all when you confront them with the statistics of price comparison in organic versus non-organic foods?  

I'll tell you what one lady said to me in the store when I told my husband that we couldn't afford to buy the organic strawberries because they were $5.99 a pound versus 2/$4.00 on the regular store brand ones: "If you cared about yours or your children's health at all you'd buy organic regardless of price." 

WTF?!  When did I ask for your opinion on my food choices?  And since when does being on a tight foodstamp balanced budget that doesn't give room for organic choices make me a person who doesn't care about my child's health?  Or my health? 

And who the fuck are you to come up to me in a grocery store and tell me how to live my life?! I don't even KNOW YOU! 

It really irritates me when people give unsolicited, unwanted and unnecessary advice.  Trust me, if I could afford all organic foods and meats I would buy them in an instant.  But I can't.  So I don't.  It's that simple.  

When you're on government assistance you're lucky to be able to afford enough food for the month, let alone have to worry about buying all organic products. 

The moral of this story is simple folks:  If you can't pronounce it you shouldn't eat it but not everyone can afford to eat just the foods they can pronounce.  And if it bothers you that much that you have been "lied to" about the freshness of your food then stop going to that place of business.  Just stop perpetuating the circle and move on with your life. 

That's all I got today folks.  I'm tapped out after these cortisone injections.  Maybe I can post another blog today or tomorrow. 

P.S.  I'm making homemade beef taco soup for dinner.  And I can pronounce all the ingredients.  ;)

Yuletide Blessings

Yuletide blessings to all of you!  Yule was on the 21st, I know, and I apologize for not posting these blessings on that day but I had family to visit and spend time with and it was the first Yule celebration with both my girls and my husband.

For those of you who are unaware I am a practicing Pagan, as is my husband and we intend on raising our children to be such, as well.

Yule for us is about being together, celebrating nature and the beginning of Winter.  Winter isn't a terrible thing to us, it's not something to be hateful of because of the cold and blowing snow.  We realize that it's necessary so that nature can renew itself in the spring.  It's a time to be near the ones you love and cherish what you have. 

Here's a little tidbit about Yule that is not only informative but heart warming, in my eyes anyway:

http://wicca.com/celtic/akasha/yule.htm

Now you don't have to be Wiccan or Pagan to celebrate Yule.  In fact, many of the Christian Christmas traditions are Pagan/Wiccan based.  Christmas trees, exchanging gifts, poinsettias, caroling, wreathes, the scents of cinnamon, bayberry and pine, eggnog, yule logs, fruit in your stocking, even Santa Claus himself, were all brought about by Pagan/Celtic traditions. 

Just some information for you to look at and think about while celebrating your holiday this year and maybe for years to come.

I hope you all have/had a wonderful holiday season.

                                                            Happy Yule!  

When Do I Begin Again?

I've been sitting here for the past couple weeks going, "What in the freakin hell am I going to write about in my blog?".  And then of course being the person that I am I've been putting it off and putting it off and putting it off because I haven't had the mental stamina nor want to sit down and hammer this out.  My muse left me about a week or so ago, probably during the time my entire family was ill beyond belief with the epic cold/virus of the century and it's been rough getting her to come back and play nicely with me for more than a few fleeting moments before she tears away again at the sounds of my daughters cries.

It's harder than one may imagine to sit down and put cohesive thoughts together into sentences to form a paragraph and finally into a line of paragraphs that could either be a novel, a blog, a short story, an article, etc.  Especially when you have one child in your lap doing everything possible to touch the keys of your computer while you're trying to type and another sitting next to you, grabbing at your shirt, cooing and giggling basically begging you for attention (which she has had for the past three hours straight but that's neither here nor there for her) and all the while all you want to do is put thoughts onto paper and get them out of your head. 

So here I sat, trying time and time again to come up with something fascinating, something remotely interesting for you all and maybe something just a little bit zany but nothing happened.  I would sit down at the end of the long day with my computer in front of me and my blog pulled up, a fresh blank page staring me in the face.  And guess what happened?

Nothing.

Nothing happened.  My mind was as blank as the page in front of my face.  I even tried going back to old school ways, writing in my journal with a pen and paper, a trick I learned years ago to get your mind back in the game, and still nothing.

I tried free writing, just putting my thoughts onto paper with no plot or purpose or rhyme or reason and still nothing. 

And then it happened, it was as though a door in my mind just blew open and out poured thoughts and ideas and emotions and I had no choice but to put them down, to write them out.

And now, three blog posts later, it still hasn't dwindled down.

I don't know if I've ever told any of you but ages ago (almost four years now) I started writing a novel.  Yes, that's right, a novel. 

I am 4/5 of the way through my novel and can never seem to find enough time to sit down and finish it.  It kills me that it's been almost five years since I began my novel and I still don't have it done. 

My muse is a fickle bitch most of the time and she rarely plays nice for me but I'm glad she does from time to time.  I just wish she would visit more often when I have free time so I could finish it and pass it along to some editors and see if anyone wants to publish it for me. 

I want nothing more in life for myself than to have my novel published.  I already have four short stories, two articles and seven poems published but I have want for more.  I want to share more of my work with more people. 

All I need now is time.  Maybe, a few years down the road, when my girls are a little older and a little more self sufficient I'll be able to get back into it enough to get it finished and passed on.  Maybe.  For now I have to be happy with this blog and hope that my muse continues to play nice...perhaps be a bit nicer even.  I don't know but what I do know is that my girls come first. 

So until the day comes that I can sit and write for a few hours at a time again, instead of a few minutes at a time, I will be happy with what I have.