Waiting

Waiting is something everyone has to do, from the time of birth to the time of death. Sometimes waiting is predictable - like waiting for your birthday or Christmas to arrive. Other times it's unpredictable - like waiting for customer service to pick up. Sometimes it's over a long span of time - like graduating college. Other times it's short - like waiting in line at a fast food restaurant.

But having to wait is inevitable, occurring hundreds of times each day. 

Right now I'm waiting to find out the options available for my mother upon discharge from the hospital, which could happen as early as today. 

In an ideal world, going home would be the top choice, but she's really weak from fighting a post-surgery infection and I'm really weak from trying to take care of her while still managing the rest of my life. I don't know that she can come home and stay safe because there just aren't enough people who can take care of her at the moment.

I have plans this week - doctor appointments, church groups, and work - that I need to adjust depending on what options we have and what we decide. It's the uncertainty... the knowing that what I can do depends on information I don't have yet... that's killing me right now. I just want to have enough information so I can work out plans for the rest of the week.

But I can't.

All I can do is continue to wait.

Caregiving is HARD! (Especially When the Caregiver has Physical and Emotional Issues Already)

I've been a partial caregiver for my parents for years. However, the majority of that time, they were mostly independent, sometimes to their detriment. (Doing too much led to some of the issues we are facing today.) The only time I was really called upon to help in everyday life was for small things, like helping my dad put on his diabetes monitor or assisting mom with hard to reach zippers.

The times they needed more extensive help were after each of their many hospital visits. I was usually the one who spent the most time at the hospital, arranged follow-up doctor appointments, helped to fill out paperwork, etc. I have three brothers who were involved, but when they came to the hospital, they sat and visited instead of really helping with their care - and when each of my parents was discharged, a lot of the care fell on me since we all lived together.

After my dad passed a year and a half ago, I've had to do more and more for my mom in everyday life, but she has still been pretty independent. I suspected that this latest surgery my mom had would lead to doing much more than what I've needed to do before, but there was a part of me that hoped I was overreacting. 

It turns out I was right. 

In fact, it was worse than I imagined.

As much as we love and are thankful for the doctors who did the very involved surgeries she needed, they didn't help with the reality of recovery. In fact, they didn't mention what the recovery would be like at all. But I don't blame them... I really think a surgery this rare has never been done before on a woman of my mother's age. No one knew what would happen. 

Let me explain what the past two months have been like - and what surgeries I'm talking about.

It all started on June 5th. After hearing about this one-of-a-kind doctor, we had to wait a couple of months for this date to come. Mom and I were collectively holding our breath, thinking at any minute that he would say the surgery was too dangerous, too complicated, just too much for an 87-year-old with all of her physical issues.

It turned out that she was seeing the only doctor in Alabama who would even discuss doing this kind of surgery on her.

Backstory: My mom had crushed her elbow in a fall when she was 6-years-old. She found out about elbow replacements in her 50's. Still somewhat rare then, this replacement had gone well... at first.

Then it broke. 

In 2014, she had a second elbow replacement, with a surgeon at the time who was the only one who would attempt that procedure. The surgery went well but he told her after her recovery that if something happened to it, there was nothing that could be done. There was too little bone left to attach the prosthesis to in the future.

Early this year, she fell and broke it again. She went for months dealing with horrible pain because she thought there was nothing that could be done. That is, until she found Dr. Smith at UAB and made that wonderful June 5th appointment.

Dr. Smith laid it all out. He admitted that he wasn't sure how to do it but he had several ideas in mind. He explained the options and after scheduling a follow-up visit, he told us that he would use the time until that appointment to talk to some of his colleagues around the country and get their input.

There were several ups and downs between that visit and the first surgery but we made it. We were told she would need to spend one or two nights in the hospital before going home. I told them I thought we'd probably stay at least three.

I was right.

But what was really disappointing was that it wasn't even a longer stay because the surgery was more complex than they thought. Well, actually it was more complex than they thought. Much, much more complex. So much so that they decided they had to do it in two stages.

In the first - that initial surgery - they would take out all of the old elbow replacement hardware. Then, at some point in the future, they would put in a total shoulder/humerus/elbow replacement. Where the first surgery was a couple of hours, the second would be much, much longer... ending up with her being about 8-9 hours under anesthesia. 

This time they said she would stay in the hospital two or three days. I said it would be longer.

I was right - again.

She was in the hospital and then a rehab hospital for 20, yes 2...0 days. I stayed with her in the hospital every day and night, only going home twice to take a shower. Though I didn't spend the night, I stayed with her in the rehab hospital all day, every day, with the exception of one right before she went home.

It was exhausting. It was draining. It was HARD.

However, it was nothing compared to when she finally got home. 

My mom has a condition called ulcerative colitis. In her case, it causes diarrhea and makes her need to go to the bathroom often and very quickly after eating. In other words, she often didn't make it. 

Furthermore, did I mention that the surgery was done on the arm of her dominant hand? She had no use of her right arm and hand at first, due to major swelling and not being able to move her shoulder at all. Plus, it was difficult for her to use her left arm/hand.

I'm not a very patient or selfless person. I was a teacher - not a nurse. Teachers need these traits but it's totally different. However, I love my mom and would do anything for her. I tried to make myself become what I needed to be to take care of her.

Have I said it was HARD?

I'm sure it's hard on anyone, but you add back pain, anxiety issues, bipolar swings, auto-immune flare-ups and other similiar things to the mix, and it's HARD. 

But I did it - somehow. Still, I'll be soooo glad when she's able to be somewhat independent again.

Happy Birthday, Jack

 Last fall my sponsor, mentor and one of my best friends passed away. Today was his birthday. We hardly ever celebrated each others' birthdays on the actual days but we always tried our best to celebrate them in some fashion.

The main way we would mark the occasion was to eat either Chinese buffet or Japanese steakhouse meals. It was a special treat and a fun way to spend time together, especially when we went to a Japanese steakhouse and had them cook it in front of us.

This morning I looked at my calendar and saw his birthday at the top of my items listed for the day. It's the first birthday in about seven years where I didn't at the very least get to call him and wish him a happy birthday.

As we are both Christians, my hope is that this is the best birthday he's ever had - one where he's not in pain, where he's not dealing with his addiction that so affected his life, where he's not living alone in a house he had a hard time taking care of as he grew older. 

But I've been mourning all day. I miss him incredibly. My husband and I went to a Chinese buffet and ate in his memory. It wasn't the same, of course. 

So... happy birthday, Jack. I'm so thankful that you were a part of my life. I miss you.

I love you, big brother!

Being Part of the "Sandwich Generation" is Hitting a New Level

I'm 57 years old. My mother was 30 when she had me and I was 31 when I had my daughter. So we weren't exactly "young'uns" when we each had our daughters. 

If you haven't done the math, that makes my mom 87 and my daughter 26. Previous blogs have chronicled the health issues my mom has as well as some of the mental and physical issues my daughter has. I've also recently written a lot about my daughter's move back home.

For those new to this blog, the short version is that four people live in this house - my mother, my husband, my daughter and me. ALL of us have auto-immune disorders, mental health issues, financial struggles, and strong personalities. 

Let me sum up some of the extra challenges I have during this phase of my life.

For most in my age bracket whose parents and/or children still live with them, it's their house. In my case, it's my mom's. I went through a major job loss and career change not quite a decade ago and in the process, I sold my home and moved myself and my daughter in with my parents (my dad was still alive at the time).

It's a very nice home... it's in an upscale community, with a total of 4 bedrooms, 3.5 baths, a kitchen, dining room, a garage, and two attic spaces right off the 2nd floor (so no pull-down ladder). I'm thankful for that. 

However... the only space that's "mine" is an upstairs bedroom (and I sometimes still have difficulty with stairs, even though overall I'm losing weight and getting stronger) and a study full of what my husband and I need for our photography/writing business. 

Previously, I had 3 rooms - a den/kitchenette (so my husband and I could have some things of our own and not in my parents' kitchen), plus the bedroom and study. We had to move the couch from the den to the bedroom and the apartment fridge into the study, so our already cramped space became even more cramped. 

Here's the real fun right now... my daughter has 4 cats. She won't let them go outside unless they are confined because she has some big anxiety issues about them getting hurt. There is absolutely no space in her bedroom to have a litter box, so we built a "catio" outside her window with a cat door as access. This space has space for them to play, sunbathe, and use the gigantic litter box we included. 

Her bedroom and our study are connected by a small foyer with a bathroom in between the two rooms. We have double swinging doors at the entrance of this area.

I have one cat who goes outside as she pleases through a cat door in the living room window. This means my daughter's cats can't go out into the main house because they might use the cat door to go out. So, to give her cats room to run, each night my daughter lets them out of her room, locking the double doors with a barn door lock. 

This means during those hours, I have to fight my way into and out of my study to make sure none of her four escape. I can't just go in and grab a drink from my fridge or work in the wee hours of the morning (my favorite time to work) because of them. It's been a BIG adjustment.

Before I go on, I want to emphasize that I'm thankful she's here. She was in a toxic relationship and she needed time to heal. Our relationship is better than it's ever been with her here again. With my mom's surgery, it's nice to have someone else in the house to take care of her when needed. 

But that doesn't make it less difficult.

So, going on... my mom just had surgery. When she was a child, she broke her elbow, which never healed properly. About 10 years ago, she finally had an elbow replacement. Then she injured it again - and needed a second elbow replacement. This was rarely done (at least then) and they told her nothing could be done if it was injured a third time.

Well, she fell on her shoulder - where the rod was attached. The rod came out of her humerus bone, causing her a lot of pain. She was still able to use that hand (her dominant hand) and had partial use of her arm but the pain made her seek out help.

She finally found a doctor who would tackle this complicated and risky surgery - the only one in our state that would. We both held our breath every time his office called or we had to go in for an appointment, thinking that at any point he would say it couldn't be done.

We were wrong. It was done.

However, when the surgeon got in there to fix it, he said that the old hardware was "rattling around." None of the several options he had planned on were able to be completed within that one surgery. Any additional time under anesthesia could be fatal (and I'm not being dramatic.)

Midway through the surgery, the doctor called for a conference with my brothers and me to tell us the news - and to ask our permission to do the plan he had mentioned briefly but never really thought he'd have to do. 

The only real option was to do the procedure in stages... the first being the surgery that day, which meant taking all the old hardware out. Then he wanted to wait about a month for her arm to heal somewhat (they had to cut a bone to get the lower part out) before doing the second surgery.

What none of us had planned on was the impact this change would make. She was supposed to be able to use her arm within a few days of the first surgery. Now she can't use it at all until the second surgery - there's nothing holding her lower arm to her upper arm. 

It's the little things that make life so difficult. She can't open a jar of medicine to take a pain pill. She can't carry anything because she had to switch from a rollator walker, one that has a seat that she used to carry items, to a cane. She can't make a cup of coffee in the morning as she can't open the creamer she loves. 

Plus, there's so much more that she either struggles with or can't do now.

Currently, my business is practically dead. This is a wonderful thing because she needs someone around all the time, but it means one more month of taking money out of what was supposed to be for retirement. 

The hardest thing for me is how I'm always torn. If I'm helping her, I feel I should be working. If I'm working, I feel I should be helping her. I have to arrange for someone to be here when my husband and I are gone to a physical therapy session (the result of when we were rear-ended and my car was totaled) or a doctor's appointment. It's really difficult to go to the YMCA to work out. I've even had to miss church.

This challenge multiplies on the many days my back is hurting. One example is when bending over to help her dress, as there's a lot of strain on my back. 

Like I did with my daughter, I also want to emphasize that I'm glad I get to be here for her. The other option would probably be some type of rehab center, an incredibly expensive option where she would be miserable not being able to be at home.

Even though I'm thankful I get to have my daughter back home and I am able to take care of my mother when she needs me, it's just plain ol' hard. I don't know how those of you out there who do this kind of thing with much, much more intensity - like having several children with disabilities, or having both parents going downhill fast, or fostering children who have come out of rough situations - make it.

I guess we all just have to live day by day (sometimes minute by minute) and do the best we can. At least that's what I'm trying to do.

 

An Email to the Pastors of My Church About True Community

(Note that I've changed names in this post - and that it was written during an early morning weekly prayer time where one person shares, then we divide up and pray, and then we pray together. I wrote this during the individual prayer time. Also, it has taken me a while to post it. I wanted to really think about whether it should  be posted - and to give those I sent it to time to react. Before you even read it, I want you to know that both of my pastors came to me separately and apologized. They each acknowledged that they dropped the ball on this and they would work on ways to hopefully make this less likely to happen to others in the future.)

This might not be the best use of time for prayer - and this wasn't my intention when I came this morning - but what our speaker this morning said touched on something I've been debating on bringing up.

You both know how much I love this church. I also think you both know that I was pretty much dedicated to never going to church again just over a year ago (other than Deaf Church, and that was to practice sign language more than being "at church"). While covering the K-Love Fan Awards Weekend last year (the weekend before first coming here), God did a work in me and I had a desire to find a church. I had no idea where to start but when I googled it, this church jumped off the screen at me. When I watched a video of a service I pretty much knew.

It took maybe 15 minutes for me to fall in love when I first came June 2, 2024. This church ticked off almost every box that I had prayed about in the past (before I gave up on church). There wasn't a doubt that I knew I supposed to attend this church.

And I was right. It is an amazing church. I believe that God is doing great things here. 

But I recently had something happen that made me have to fight a battle on whether I could stay or go back to where I was before - being so hurt that I couldn't get past it - giving up on the idea of church again.

I think you both know about my daughter moving back home - I've shared about it in several prayer requests. Well, she doesn't have anyone who could help her move and other than at church, my husband and I don't know many in the area (one issue with freelancing). The few friends we have are either older or live far away. We couldn't afford to hire anyone. Those in my family have various health issues that kept them from helping. 

On top of that, a few weeks ago my husband and I were rear-ended and my Santa Fe was totaled. I had planned to use it extensively during the move. The wreck caused my back issue to get worse as well as it causing other, new physical issues. My husband, who was driving, also got banged up also with back and neck issues.

I've known for a while that it was going to come down to only my husband, my daughter and me to do the move. My daughter and I have back issues and can't pick up anything heavy. We also both have issues with stairs (and the attic where most of her stuff was going to go is at the top of a long flight of stairs.)

So, mostly the entire move was on my husband - whose back was also hurt during the wreck.

I shared this with my small group, fully expecting help. After all, I thought that was what small group was for. 

Only one replied, but later had to cancel. 

I happened to share it with a friend at church, who shared it with her small group, and she had one in her group volunteer to help for a little bit. The one who canceled from my small group ended up being able to help with one load the last night we had to get everything out. 

But other than that, nada. 

Oh - I shared this with the worship team and a few others I know at church, practically saying I was desperate for men and trucks. I knew how hard it would be on me (who would try to do too much and strain my back even more than it already is) and my daughter (same issue). But mostly I knew how hard it would be on my husband, literally carrying the bulk of the load, going up and down the stairs with multitudes of boxes and small pieces of furniture. (Thank God there wasn't a lot of big furniture). 

For a church that I know loves people and loves to serve, why wasn't there anyone who would help us? I assumed that my small group would help... I even thought they would come full-force and really help us knock it out. 

I know that I have a lot of crap that I deal with - and share. For a while I've been wondering if (1) those in my small group are tired of hearing it and so they dismiss what I share or (2) if they don't believe me and think I'm making all this up for attention. 

The lack of help for the move made me wonder even more if this is true.

I'll be honest - I'm hurt. I'm frustrated. And I thought about leaving. However, I know that God has us here so leaving isn't an option. 

I've been planning to share all this with you since the move (about 2 weeks ago) but I've been holding back and trying not to share about my life for the reasons above. However, about a week ago, I told our marriage counselor about what happened and he encouraged me to tell you.

I still love this church. I used to love my small group. I'll be honest again - now I have a hard time trusting them. I feel that they don't have my back - and I thought that was the main reason for small groups to exist. 

Like the speaker this morning said, I know our church isn't perfect. I know the individuals who make up the church aren't perfect. I definitely am not. 

But this was rough. Having my daughter move back in with us is an extreme change. The physical move messed us up physically and emotionally and adjusting to her being here is an adjustment like no other. My husband and I basically lived in 3 rooms before - a den/kitchenette, a study (which is filled with all of our equipment as well as big desks for the large monitors we need when editing), and a bedroom. Now we live in 2 rooms - a bedroom/den (we moved the couch in there) and the study. My dresser is in the landing at the top of the stairs as is our bedroom/den. It hurts to climb the stairs, so I hang out at my desk way more than I should.

Even though it's a huge change, there were no other options and we will do anything to keep her from being homeless. I feel that that God is going to use this time to bring her to Him. But even knowing that, it's still really, really hard.

Most likely there were really good reasons for people not helping. I know everyone is busy and many also have physical issues that prevent helping. 

I don't want pity and I'm working hard to not feel like a victim in all this and the other things that keep happening in my life. I just wanted to be acknowledged. I forgot to mention that not one person even said they couldn't help. Not one asked if there was another way they could help. Not one took me aside to listen to what I was going through. One person at church did tell me last Sunday that my email went to his spam folder and he just happened to find it, so I take it back - there was one... but it was 2 weeks too late. 

Like I said before, I know I share a lot - and I have a lot going on where I need support and prayer. Am I not supposed to share all this? Am I supposed to keep it in and just pray and hope by myself? 

In Matthew West's song, "Truth Be Told," there's one verse that says "There's a sign on the door that says, 'Come as you are,' but I doubt it... 'cause if we lived like that was true, every Sunday mornin' pew would be crowded. But didn't you say Church looks more like a hospital? A safe place for the sick, the sinner, and the scarred... and the prodigal like me." 

I feel this church is one of the closest I've seen to the hospital in this metaphor. But instead of treating everyone, it only treats some. Thinking more about it, I am supported - when I'm growing in my faith journey - not so much when it's a personal, real-life matter.

You know about this blog - "Spotlight on Stigma: Welcomed but Not Accepted." On it, I try to be honest in all the crap I deal with, in all the good, in the struggles and in the victories. But one of my main tenets is to be real. That means sharing what's really going on in my life - good or bad. 

That's who I am - that's one of the things I feel God has called me to do... to be vulnerable so that others know they can also share their hurts and questions and victories. I don't want to have to change who I am to fit in at church. I really thought we were more than that.

By the way, my husband feels the same way.

We love you guys and we still love our church. The joy I had playing guitar with the team last Sunday was real. But so is all of this. We refuse to let something like this get in the way of what we feel God is doing. We just don't know what to do with our feelings.

I Don't Understand What God is Doing (or Isn't)

I wish so much I wasn't affected by my circumstances. There are some who seem rock hard in their faith. Of course, there's a chance they aren't either - they are either good actors or who haven't had a lot happen to them in life. 

Anyway, I wanted to write this post a few days ago, but I never had a moment to sit down and write. I'm glad I didn't because there's been a twist that I didn't see coming (after I also didn't see its origin coming... lots of blindsides lately it feels like.)

My adult daughter just moved back in with my mom, my husband and me. I won't lie... it's been a really rough transition. There's no extra space to put anything. I already felt my space was full - now it's overly full. 

Plus my daughter's cats live in her room and a "catio" (a small enclosure with a top on it so they can go outside safely.) At night she lets them out to play in the area that includes my study/office. I now have to somewhat babyproof that room for those times so I don't come in to a pile of papers on the floor or a book knocked off the shelf. So far nothing has broken, at least, but it makes it even harder to find places to put things.

The cats are also incredibly sweet and loving - which means they cry for me if they hear me working during the day and they want to be held if I wake up in the middle of the night and want to work for a while to get sleepy again. 

There are a lot of adjustments I'm having to make - and it takes me a while to get used to new routines.

But that's not why I'm writing this post though it is a factor in why I'm so discouraged at the moment, which is why I mentioned it.

My daughter has been dealing for several years with various mental and physical, as well as relationship issues, for the past few years. A few months ago she moved in here (like I mentioned earlier). She's been doing a lot better here and is finally able to start working - probably part-time at first but hopefully it will work into full-time so she can get out on her own.

Earlier this week she found what she feels was the perfect job for her. The interview went so well that they offered her a job on the spot. It was really good money, great potential for advancement, and they would accommodate the physical and mental issues she still deals with in the meantime. 

This is something I've been praying for - and asking friends to pray for - for years now. We both were excited when that prayer was answered.

But here's the first twist... it's at a new establishment - a drag queen lounge. 

The really sad thing in my eyes is that she is so adament that this is the first place she's ever felt totally accepted. Isn't the church supposed to be that? But that's not the reason I'm writing now.

I've been torn since she got the job. I don't understand or necessarily agree with that lifestyle, though I won't judge where another person is and what they believe. (This group in particular gets way too much of that as it is.)

And would I consider this an answer to prayer? Would you? I don't know. 

However, I was happy for her. How could I not be? She has wanted for so long to get back out in the workforce or so long but would have a hard time working in most typical envioronments. She wants to start earning money to help with expenses now (and I'm ready for that too as it's not cheap to add another adult to your household - and we were already struggling financially... a lot).

She's been on cloud 9 since the interview, even while having strep throat starting the day after. So what happened a few hours ago has been devastating.

She opened Facebook to find out the woman who would have been her boss, the one who hried her, sharing how she and the rest of the leadership team had basically been scammed. They were fronted the money to pay for a lot of the start-up costs but there's no more money. They didn't waste it. They didn't steal it. It wasn't a real company apparently.

So what do I do with this? Is this now an answer to prayer - that the job would fall through? It's not exactly the kind of job I would prefer her to have. 

I don't understand why she found a job she would love - that would help pay her bills - and then lost it.

I don't understand why my business has dried up... again. So far this month (it's the 12th), I have no, nada, zip amount of income.

I don't understand why my husband can't find a job.

I don't understand why a way to earn a large amount of money fell through when it looked so promising.

I don't understand why I continue to struggle so much financially.

On the flip side, I also don't understand why, after decades of wanting to do so, I'm finally playing guitar again - and on a worship team with my husband to boot.

I don't understand how I have found a church that I love after years of saying I'd never go to a church (other than Deaf Church) again.

I don't understand all the amazing opportunities I've gotten over the past few years... and that I was actually able to author a book.

I don't understand how I met a man who loves me the way I am - fat, with mental and physical health issues, etc - and we got married when he had sworn to be a batchelor all of his life.

I don't understand how I was able to birth a beautiful, talented daughter after years of infertility.

At the moment I'm doubting who God is. But can I give Him praise for the wonderful things that happen and then deny Him for the bad? Are both part of a plan... or is all this meaningless?

It's one of the greatest questions mankind has - and I'm positive of one thing. I won't come up with an answer.

I'll just keep going, and hoping, and trying my best to trust God...

... no matter what He is doing OR isn't.

 

Grateful in Everything?

I am a calendar person. Even though I moved to a Google calendar years ago, I still keep a paper calendar up where I can easily see it.

The main reason I have it is so that I can see the dates the weeks before and weeks after easily. So, other than the birthays and anniversaries I include (because they don't change), even month is a clean slate.

I have used this calendar in several different ways. One year I was pushing fitness - so I had small holographic stars I added each time I did anything physical beyond my normal routine. Another year I used it to keep up with my mood. That year I used sad, happy, and flat (straight lips instead of a smile or frown) emoticon stickers on each day.

Last year I was over all of the thinking that went into the simple task of checking off each day - but I still wanted it to be colorful so I used big holographic stickers in different shapes to make the passage of time (and be able to see "today" at a glance.)

However, several years are filled with 12 months of between 28 and 31 squares of how I'm grateful. 

I've done this general idea different ways through the years. I've kept the typical lists. These were more random... I'm grateful for my big, cosy desk chair; I'm grateful for my nice cameras; I'm thankful for my mom's support. Essentially these were ongoing and almost always involved people or things. 

In my husband's and my bathroom, we currently have a white board where we write what we're grateful for whenever we feel like it - sometimes every day and sometimes once a month. When it's full, we erase a space to put something new.

But there are a few years I've done it by utilizing my wall calendar. This is one of those years.

Every morning as one of my first tasks at my desk, I think back to the day before and find something I'm thankful for about that day. These range from big (like the day I first saw my published book) to almost insignificant (I had nothing scheduled and got to stay home all day).

Sometimes I have to really think about what to write. It's not that there was nothing to be grateful for... instead, sometimes not a lot happened the day before and it takes a minute to come up with something to add. Mostly it's that, due to the brain fog I have from some of my health conditions and meds, there are days it takes a while to even remember all that happened the day before. (Well, that's embarrassing to admit - but this blog is about sharing both the good and the bad.)

I didn't mean for that to be the perfect segue (pronounced segway), but it is.

Let's go to today. It's 6:38am. I got to my desk around 6:15am after not being able to sleep any later due to some pain I'm dealing with. (By the way, it's rough when laying down doesn't relieve your pain - your bed is supposed to be one of your most comfortable spaces!)

As I said before, one of the first things I complete after sitting down is to check off the day before by filling it with something I'm grateful for. 

Yesterday was one of those "nothing special" days. I didn't complete any great projects; I didn't have an amazing interaction with a friend; I didn't get booked for a shoot that could help pay the bills this month. It was a day of catching up on eamails, doing some chores, going to PT, etc.

Like I said, "nothing special."

Then I remembered that I worked out and swam at my local YMCA for the first times in months. Swimming is one of the hardest things to make myself do - but I'm always in a better mood when I get done. (I know that makes no sense, but such is the life of someone with mental health issues.)

I found my grateful aspect of that day.

As soon as I finished and put it back on the wall, I thought of another I could have added. I didn't really think about it at the time because it's not uplifting, not displaying a great moment that happened.

It relates to the pain I mentioned earlier. I have back issues along with other health conditions that can cause pain off and on (like fibromyalgia). In addition, I still have some issues from the car accident three months ago and my falling twice on concrete about a month ago. RLS (restless leg syndrome) and leg cramps complicate the aforementioned problems.

Last night everything hit. My back was killing me by the time I laid down. At first I couldn't fall asleep because of the pain. Meds weren't helping and I didn't know what to do. My husband reminded me we could try an ice pack (for some weird reason I always forget that option). I told him I'd try anything.

He got the extra, extra large cold pack that I use for my shoulder surgery and put it on my back. He also rubbed in some pain relief cream. It didn't take long for these to work and I quickly fell asleep.

Fairy tale ending, huh. 

Nope!

I slept about an hour and when I woke up, not only was my back pain worse, my wrist was hurting (car wreck), and my RLS was in full force. That was bad enough, but after moving into different positions all over our king-sized bed -just trying to get comfortable (my husband was on the couch - the one we moved from our den when our daughter moved in), I got a leg cramp.

Most of the time I don't get regular leg cramps - the ones in one calf that might hurt but don't cause major pain and they go away in a few minutes.

Mine are in any lower extremity muscle from the waist area down (some I didn't even know I have). They are excrutiatingly painful, have lasted up to an hour, and move from muscle to muscle. One will finally release only to have another nearby start cramping. Often it involves both legs at the same time.

Thankfully this was a "normal" leg cramp. It hurt pretty badly and lasted more than a few minutes, but it didn't spread or come right back after it finally released.

But by that point, I was done. I was so tired of hurting. I wouldn't have gone through with it, but I told my husband that I wanted to just take a whole bottle of ibuprofen so the pain would stop completely. I want to clarify that no one needs to set up some kind of intervention - I wouldn't have done it. But I honestly wanted to do anything it took to make the pain stop.

I finally decided on my "last resort" method - taking a bath. I won't go into all the reasons behind this, but taking a bath is difficult right now due to the injuries I've sustained the last few months, thus why I didn't try that first.

It worked. My pain eased and I was able to relax. I quickly fell asleep in the tub and probably slept between three and four hours... in the tub. I would wake up when the water started getting cold, turn on more hot water, and go back to sleep before I knew it. 

When I finally decided to get out, I was able to go to sleep in bed. I woke up early, hurting again, but I got enough sleep to make it today.

So... finally... my realization after writing my grateful thnig from yesterday...

Why do I only include the accomplishments, the amazing moments, the things that are easy to be grateful about?

Writing about my swim wasn't wrong. It was an amazing time and when I think of it, I'm still very grateful.

But, though I'm definitely not grateful for the pain, RLS and leg cramps I have to deal with many nights, there is so much to be grateful for within it.

Some examples:

- my amazing husband, who always drops what he's doing or wakes up to help

- the big tub that's made so well that it's comfortable enough to sleep in (and no, it's not so large that I could drown in it)

- my RLS meds, which don't always prevent them from happening, do help lessen them

- because I'm a freelancer, most days I can schedule down time or even a nap if I've had a night where I didn't sleep much; it means the pressure and stress over not getting enough sleep is much less than in a 9-5 job

- though they haven't figured out how to fix it yet, I have some great doctors who are helping me with the issues that keep me from sleeping

- etc, etc, etc

One reason I try to stay away from social media is because people uaually show their hightlight reels, not the outtakes, the mistakes, and the bloopers. I try my best in this blog to show who I really am, what I'm really thinking (even if it's not PC or something most people would never admit) and both my struggles and my victories.

If I believe so much in that, why don't I do it everyday - with my grateful calendar?

Moving forward, I'm going to challenge myself to do it more - include the good as well as the bad. I hope you will too.