The Spoonie Story

The Spoon Theory

by Christine Miserandino 

www.butyoudontlooksick.com

My best friend and I were in the diner, talking. As usual, it was very late and we were eating French fries with gravy. Like normal girls our age, we spent a lot of time in the diner while in college, and most of the time we spent talking about boys, music or trivial things, that seemed very important at the time. We never got serious about anything in particular and spent most of our time laughing.

As I went to take some of my medicine with a snack as I usually did, she watched me with an awkward kind of stare, instead of continuing the conversation. She then asked me out of the blue what it felt like to have Lupus and be sick. I was shocked not only because she asked the random question, but also because I assumed she knew all there was to know about Lupus. She came to doctors with me, she saw me walk with a cane, and throw up in the bathroom. She had seen me cry in pain, what else was there to know?

I started to ramble on about pills, and aches and pains, but she kept pursuing, and didn’t seem satisfied with my answers. I was a little surprised as being my roommate in college and friend for years; I thought she already knew the medical definition of Lupus. Then she looked at me with a face every sick person knows well, the face of pure curiosity about something no one healthy can truly understand. She asked what it felt like, not physically, but what it felt like to be me, to be sick.

As I tried to gain my composure, I glanced around the table for help or guidance, or at least stall for time to think. I was trying to find the right words. How do I answer a question I never was able to answer for myself? How do I explain every detail of every day being effected, and give the emotions a sick person goes through with clarity. I could have given up, cracked a joke like I usually do, and changed the subject, but I remember thinking if I don’t try to explain this, how could I ever expect her to understand. If I can’t explain this to my best friend, how could I explain my world to anyone else? I had to at least try.

At that moment, the spoon theory was born. I quickly grabbed every spoon on the table; hell I grabbed spoons off of the other tables. I looked at her in the eyes and said “Here you go, you have Lupus”. She looked at me slightly confused, as anyone would when they are being handed a bouquet of spoons. The cold metal spoons clanked in my hands, as I grouped them together and shoved them into her hands.

I explained that the difference in being sick and being healthy is having to make choices or to consciously think about things when the rest of the world doesn’t have to. The healthy have the luxury of a life without choices, a gift most people take for granted.

Most people start the day with unlimited amount of possibilities, and energy to do whatever they desire, especially young people. For the most part, they do not need to worry about the effects of their actions. So for my explanation, I used spoons to convey this point. I wanted something for her to actually hold, for me to then take away, since most people who get sick feel a “loss” of a life they once knew. If I was in control of taking away the spoons, then she would know what it feels like to have someone or something else, in this case Lupus, being in control.

She grabbed the spoons with excitement. She didn’t understand what I was doing, but she is always up for a good time, so I guess she thought I was cracking a joke of some kind like I usually do when talking about touchy topics. Little did she know how serious I would become?

I asked her to count her spoons. She asked why, and I explained that when you are healthy you expect to have a never-ending supply of “spoons”. But when you have to now plan your day, you need to know exactly how many “spoons” you are starting with. It doesn’t guarantee that you might not lose some along the way, but at least it helps to know where you are starting. She counted out 12 spoons. She laughed and said she wanted more. I said no, and I knew right away that this little game would work, when she looked disappointed, and we hadn’t even started yet. I’ve wanted more “spoons” for years and haven’t found a way yet to get more, why should she? I also told her to always be conscious of how many she had, and not to drop them because she can never forget she has Lupus.

I asked her to list off the tasks of her day, including the most simple. As, she rattled off daily chores, or just fun things to do; I explained how each one would cost her a spoon. When she jumped right into getting ready for work as her first task of the morning, I cut her off and took away a spoon. I practically jumped down her throat. I said ” No! You don’t just get up. You have to crack open your eyes, and then realize you are late. You didn’t sleep well the night before. You have to crawl out of bed, and then you have to make your self something to eat before you can do anything else, because if you don’t, you can’t take your medicine, and if you don’t take your medicine you might as well give up all your spoons for today and tomorrow too.” I quickly took away a spoon and she realized she hasn’t even gotten dressed yet. Showering cost her spoon, just for washing her hair and shaving her legs. Reaching high and low that early in the morning could actually cost more than one spoon, but I figured I would give her a break; I didn’t want to scare her right away. Getting dressed was worth another spoon. I stopped her and broke down every task to show her how every little detail needs to be thought about. You cannot simply just throw clothes on when you are sick. I explained that I have to see what clothes I can physically put on, if my hands hurt that day buttons are out of the question. If I have bruises that day, I need to wear long sleeves, and if I have a fever I need a sweater to stay warm and so on. If my hair is falling out I need to spend more time to look presentable, and then you need to factor in another 5 minutes for feeling badly that it took you 2 hours to do all this.

I think she was starting to understand when she theoretically didn’t even get to work, and she was left with 6 spoons. I then explained to her that she needed to choose the rest of her day wisely, since when your “spoons” are gone, they are gone. Sometimes you can borrow against tomorrow’s “spoons”, but just think how hard tomorrow will be with less “spoons”. I also needed to explain that a person who is sick always lives with the looming thought that tomorrow may be the day that a cold comes, or an infection, or any number of things that could be very dangerous. So you do not want to run low on “spoons”, because you never know when you truly will need them. I didn’t want to depress her, but I needed to be realistic, and unfortunately being prepared for the worst is part of a real day for me.

We went through the rest of the day, and she slowly learned that skipping lunch would cost her a spoon, as well as standing on a train, or even typing at her computer too long. She was forced to make choices and think about things differently. Hypothetically, she had to choose not to run errands, so that she could eat dinner that night.

When we got to the end of her pretend day, she said she was hungry. I summarized that she had to eat dinner but she only had one spoon left. If she cooked, she wouldn’t have enough energy to clean the pots. If she went out for dinner, she might be too tired to drive home safely. Then I also explained, that I didn’t even bother to add into this game, that she was so nauseous, that cooking was probably out of the question anyway. So she decided to make soup, it was easy. I then said it is only 7pm, you have the rest of the night but maybe end up with one spoon, so you can do something fun, or clean your apartment, or do chores, but you can’t do it all.

I rarely see her emotional, so when I saw her upset I knew maybe I was getting through to her. I didn’t want my friend to be upset, but at the same time I was happy to think finally maybe someone understood me a little bit. She had tears in her eyes and asked quietly “Christine, How do you do it? Do you really do this everyday?” I explained that some days were worse then others; some days I have more spoons then most. But I can never make it go away and I can’t forget about it, I always have to think about it. I handed her a spoon I had been holding in reserve. I said simply, “I have learned to live life with an extra spoon in my pocket, in reserve. You need to always be prepared.”

Its hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day’s plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count “spoons”.

After we were emotional and talked about this for a little while longer, I sensed she was sad. Maybe she finally understood. Maybe she realized that she never could truly and honestly say she understands. But at least now she might not complain so much when I can’t go out for dinner some nights, or when I never seem to make it to her house and she always has to drive to mine. I gave her a hug when we walked out of the diner. I had the one spoon in my hand and I said “Don’t worry. I see this as a blessing. I have been forced to think about everything I do. Do you know how many spoons people waste everyday? I don’t have room for wasted time, or wasted “spoons” and I chose to spend this time with you.”

Ever since this night, I have used the spoon theory to explain my life to many people. In fact, my family and friends refer to spoons all the time. It has been a code word for what I can and cannot do. Once people understand the spoon theory they seem to understand me better, but I also think they live their life a little differently too. I think it isn’t just good for understanding Lupus, but anyone dealing with any disability or illness. Hopefully, they don’t take so much for granted or their life in general. I give a piece of myself, in every sense of the word when I do anything. It has become an inside joke. I have become famous for saying to people jokingly that they should feel special when I spend time with them, because they have one of my “spoons”.

© Christine Miserandino

- See more at: http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/#sthash.F3aQMCiE.dpuf

The Potters House

Any piece of clay can be transformed when you land in the Potter's hands. 

Mold me God, to what you want me to be. 

Use me for your work and guide me on the path you chose for me.

Wings

Today's a day that if I had wings, I would wrap them around myself and sit somewhere quietly.  I would grieve in silence and not want to be disturbed. I ache for the family of my pastor. For his wife, who I hold very dear... for his children, who will be without a father.. for his grandchildren who lost the best male role model their life will ever have... for his flock that is now without a shepherd... I am, however, in awe of the legacy he leaves behind.  The legacy that he left wasn't him - it was Jesus. His job while on earth was to make sure no one was left behind - not the wounded, the broken or desolate. He believed in that so strongly that he named his ministry Hephzibah's House Ministries which is from the verse "You shall no longer be termed desolate...but you shall be called Hephzibah for the Lord delights in you. --Isaiah 62:4"

He was so gifted, connected, and so in-tuned with God and his relationship with others. He understood people and their struggle.  He was a counselor, a mentor, and a most of all a friend; he love people enough to tell them the truth - even if it hurt.  He will forever be a person who taught me a lot in the little time I knew him. The Lord's work will continue because he planted a seed in others to do so.  Thank you Bob - for your contribution to the world, to my community, to my church, and to my life.  My life was blessed because you and Janet were in it. 

2 Corinthians 1:3-5English Standard Version (ESV)

God of All Comfort

3 Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, 4 who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. 5 For as we share abundantly in Christ's sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.[a]

Ordinary Days

Dear Mom,

Its days like today that I miss you the most. Today's Friday and right now the house is quiet. Its days like today that you and I would sit and talk about nothing. I loved the way you could give me advice without directly meddling and trying to sway my life decisions one way or another; which is funny because Johnny always tell me that I don't know how to mind my business and I am convinced that I get that from you; I'm sure dad would agree.

All day, everyone has asked me how I am and my automatic standard reply is "Fine" but honestly, I'm not. I miss you and I've found me blaming myself for you leaving. But I keep thinking, if I had only objected you getting contrast for the CT for PE/DVT protocol. Knowing you had chronic kidney issues that your creatinine was too high for the contrast. I keep feeling like that damn Omnipaque was the catalyst to losing you and I could have stopped it somehow.  Had I not let you get that contrast maybe this whole tailspin would have never started and you would still be here with us - with me. I know that if you were here, you would take me into your arms and wipe my tears away and tell me it really wasn't my fault and that it was God's plan - why I'll never know. It has crossed my mind that maybe it was for Missy. In all of her four years of wisdom and innocence, you dying left Elana (who she associates as a child) an orphan and Missy knew Elana needed a new mommy and daddy and that you left her with Johnny and me. It helped her to understand that your parents aren't necessarily who birth you but the people who put in the love and time to raise you and that made her transition of knowing she was adopted much easier for her. I know you would've given your life for her as if she was your own grandchild and in a way she was. I keep playing all of these scenarios in my head and I just feel like I cannot stop spinning.  I miss you and I always will. They say time will heal all wounds, but its as if today isn't included in "time" somehow.

Today's just an ordinary day; its nothing special. I'm sure it's someone's birthday, but no one I know. Today doesn't mark the change of a season or a holiday but its just another day - another day that I have thought about you. So today, I can add a few hundred tears to add to the sea of tears that I have already cried.

STRUGGLING

 

  Today is May 8, 2014 - its officially been 1,468 days since Daddy went home and 905 days since Momma joined him. I've been seriously struggling emotionally since they left.  I read back on an old blog posting tonight that said it had been 14 months since Mom died and I could actually start talking about it ---- well now, today -- I can't.  I cannot talk or think about either parent without going into a full-on panic/anxiety attack. When they first passed, I could talk about it and listen to and tell stories about them -- but now I am surrounded by constant reminders of their passing.  Mom's anniversary of her death is a week before thanksgiving and their birthdays are the week after new years and dad's anniversary of his passing is the week before mother's day.  My birthday is the week of father's day. Its like everything is connected  I think part of my problem is I am attempting to disconnect instead of work through the grief - the biggest reason why though is I am not sure how or where to start. I know one of my struggles is automatically connecting everything with their death - i need to make a purposeful effort to connect these life events with their lives and not to forget the living.  

Being Sick

I spent this weekend febrile in bed sick. No matter how old you are, you still want your mamma when you're feeling under the weather.  This weekend was no exception for me.

I cannot believe it has been 1032 days since my father went home.  My mom joined him 469 days ago. I was so angry at God for a long time, I felt cheated and betrayed. It seems unfair to have to live so much of your life without your beloved parents. I know Amber probably feels the same way, even though we have never discussed it. I know we both miss them, equally yet we miss each of them differently.  I am finally to a part where I am forgiving God and thanking him for reaching them, blessing them, and ultimately delivering them.

Mom:  I miss you more than words. I think of you often. Now, after 15 months, I can begin to recall memories of you without my eyes filling with tears and a panic rushing over my body.  Still, every fiber of my being aches for you. I miss your laughter, your voice, your knowledge, your kindness, your unbending strength, and your warmth. I am thankful that I can actually experience some of our memories we made together and smile, laugh, and tell stories of how things use to be and share the things you have taught me. You taught me to choose your battles with your spouse but to appreciate the little things. To love others for who they are and not what you want them to be. Each person is a creation of God but their choices can taint their outcomes, not because of God's design but of our flaws. You taught me to take time to say thank you, for the large things and the small, seemingly insignificant things.

Dad:  Some of the hardest lessons of my life, I learned from you. You were always honest with me about your struggle to fit in and helped me get through the tough times I went through being an overweight child. I appreciate everything you did for me. All the band practices you went to, even though you had to wait in the hot car (the gray ghost) with no air conditioning after working a long day in a hot factory. When I played softball, you took me to every practice and even kept my batting average on the fridge. You never complained and you never missed a game. Thank you for being such a great dad and for being there when it mattered.  I miss your humor when you weren't even trying to be funny.  I miss your belly laugh when something really got you tickled. I miss your wisdom, your guidance, and your gentle, yet firm discipline you always provided.

Worn

Day 4

Worn by Tenth Avenue North

I'm tired

I'm worn

My heart is heavy

From the work it takes to keep on breathing

I've made mistakes

I've let my hope fail

My soul feels crushed

By the weight of this world

And I know that you can give me rest

So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win

Let me know the struggle ends

That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise

From the ashes of a broken life

And all that's dead inside can be reborn

Cause I'm worn

I know I need

To lift my eyes up

But I'm too week

Life just won't let up

And I know that You can give me rest

So I cry out with all that I have left

Let me see redemption win

Let me know the struggle ends

That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise

From the ashes of a broken life

And all that's dead inside can be reborn

Cause I'm worn

And my prayers are wearing thin

I'm worn even before the day begins

I'm worn I've lost my will to fight

I'm worn so heaven so come and fluid my eyes

Let me see redemption win

Let me know the struggle ends

That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn

I want to know a song can rise

From the ashes of a broken life

And all that's dead inside can be reborn

Yes all that's dead inside will be reborn

Though I'm worn

Yeah I'm worn

Initiating Changes Necessary for Growth

I welcomed in the new year with my husband in our room (my comfort zone) tearing down walls, letting my husband of 10 years into my deepest emotional vault, and ultimately building emotional intimacy. It should have happened a long time ago honestly, but we have been married for almost ten years and have grown a lot individually and a lot separately as our own people of God; together, we are working on becoming the people God intended for us to be on an individual basis so we can fulfill his destiny of us together as a united front for him.

For me, something I have learned through my own personal growth and self reflection, is that in my past (old nature) I am/was a brick-layer. I would erect concrete walls around the deepest parts of myself, something I have done my entire life.  I have always been very selective on who I let past those walls and in the past, I have made wrong choices in the selection process (usually out of guilt/manipulation) and have let people in who I should been protecting myself from and they broke me emotionally. It has been an essential part of my self-preservation for as long as I can remember and it is something that has been a struggle that I was unwilling to face for a long time.. I have pushed others away and had built up walls around the deepest emotional parts of myself for fear of hurt, regret, rejection, anguish, resentfulness, shame, guilt, and the list goes on and on. As the person I was in 2012 for every brick someone would tear down from my wall of my "self-preservation" protection/comfort, I would have 12 more concrete blocks placed in the wall dividing us before that person even got the original brick completely chiseled out.

My changes began a long time ago, but I will continue to allow God to prune my tree and dig in my roots. I just have to remember that a good hard rain makes the pruning/digging of roots/fertilization easier, so bring on the rain, I know God's grace is sufficient and he is steadfast.

Self Reflection in 2012

I was up all night last night distressed over burdens that my heart and spirit were carrying and have been carrying for quite some time. The first person I approached about my concerns was God. I wanted an answer and I waited for an answer from him as to this conundrum I have been experiencing. I have struggled with depression, anxiety, insomnia, OCD, OCPD, oppression, inadequacy, abandonment, and that all of these issues I have been trying to give to the Lord has been complicated or magnified by grief. I don't feel as if I was anywhere near the end of my grief-process with my father's death when my mother passed a year later. I know there are seven stages of grief and wondered if some people experience them in different orders? 

1. Denial

2. Guilt

3. Anger

4. Depression

5. Upward turn

6. Reconstruction

7. Acceptance

The one I have been struggling with is not even on the list: Forgiveness.  I know we require his forgiveness and that he will forgive us as many times as necessary until we get it right. I know we have been talking about repentance in church and asking for forgiveness is part of repentance (in addition to facing your pride head-on among other things). My struggle though is does God require our forgiveness? Is it necessary to forgive God for the anger/pain/resentment for him taking my parents away? I know that its his way whether I like it or not and that his way is the only way and the right way and I can hear my mom and my Pastor both telling me "You have to get glad in the same britches you got mad in" but it isn't that simple to me. This perspective has been stirring in my soul, in the very root of my spirit.  My spirit tells me that God doesn't need my forgiveness because he's God, but that he will accept my forgiveness. I somehow feel as if I need God to accept my forgiveness even though he doesn't require it for my own repentance, acceptance, and for my own forgiveness for being angry with God in the first place. 

 I went to work today and did my normal job and there was a 2012 calendar that I adored that was inspirational quotes. I looked forward to the new wisdom it would give me every month when I was able to close that chapter and to begin another. So, I spent a few minutes after work today cutting up this calendar and placing those inspirational quotes all over a board that hangs above my desk. I call it my aspiration board. I made the conscious decision today that God will never stop his molding process of who I am and that I do not wish to ever stop aspiring to be a better person.

The images are photographs of different situations with clever sayings to remind you to never give up and to keep fighting for whatever it is you desire; they aren't necessarily Christian based, but basic life advice that would help anyone along his/her journey. This one, for instances, reminds me that how insignificant we feel in our roles with other people, we are all the same in Jesus' eyes and that we are all sheep in his flock and he cares for us equally yet individually.

• Dreams are today’s answer to tomorrow’s question.
• Dreams are logs that feed the fire of our souls.
• Live your spirit’s dreams, not your mind’s.
• There is nothing like a dream to create the future.
• Dreams are necessary to life.
• Dreams are the touchstones of our personality.

Christmas Shoes

I have had little time to do any Christmas preparation but have taken a few moments myself for some quiet reflection this holiday season. I have delayed putting up my Christmas tree this year; I originally wanted to blame procrastination, but have realized that my hesitation has been sprinkled with a bit of bitter-sweetness. It was my mom's most special time of the year. She adored her Christmas tree so much and it was something we did together. I was the only one she trusted to handle her most prized possessions. I blamed God for a long time for taking her from me so young. From taking both of them from my sister and I. What was the purpose? The lesson? Then I realized, their short time on earth with us was not a  punishment but yet a gift. I keep coming back to just being thankful for the time I had with them. I miss them both terribly, but this time of year meant so much to my family. 
I remember my father telling us stories after my sister and I were grown about how he would stay up all night putting our Santa gifts together. When I was four, my parents bought me a my little pony castle. It was exquisite and each petal of every flower had to be snapped together and assembled by hand. My dad stayed up all night long putting all of my flowers in my garden and he had been in bed for about ten minutes when my sister and I rounded the corner and woke them up because "Santa" came.  
My parents had to work hard to trick us, especially me, I was sneaky!  We were nosy, snoopy, and couldn't stand the waiting and anticipation of Christmas morning.  Our parents had to hide our stuff at my aunt's house until the middle of the night and my dad would have to leave out and go pick it up and carefully lug everything in quietly without waking us; and as most children, Amber and I never slept on Christmas Eve, especially me, I was a light sleeper. I remember we would up all night watching for Santa and listening for reindeer hooves and jingle bells - and I always heard them (that is part of the magic of Christmas)! When we were finally exhausted our little eyes would finally flutter until we would drift away for just a few minutes before we woke up and realized Santa came. 
Santa always came for us. He never let us down. My parents never let us down.  Even after we were grown, they both knew we didn't believe anymore and we knew they knew but we all still followed the tradition because it was Christmas. Now that they are gone, those memories are so much more precious to me. I was working and had the radio playing one of my favorite stations that plays Christmas songs from December 1 until Christmas and this song came on.  I cried so hard I couldn't breathe. My parents sacrificed so much for us their entire lives and I will always come back to being thankful, not only that they birthed me, but I had the pleasure of knowing them, the honor of being theirs, and will forever be blessed that they were a part of my life, even if for just a little while.

Peace, love, and rainbows

Excerpt from my personal diary. This entry means so much more after losing momma. I cannot read it without weeping. I miss them both so very much.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

Peace, love, and rainbows

So Tuesday after work, I rode to Dayton with my mom so she could get her Physical Therapy done on her back.  After we went, it started raining and it rained the entire hour of her PT.  When mom got done with it, I told her I wanted to go visit Daddy's grave.  As soon as we turned onto the road headed toward the cemetery, there was the most beautiful rainbow.  It was only a partial rainbow and didn't complete an entire arc.  Its like the upper part of the arc just disappeared into the heavens. 

As we drove down the little one lane road, as we got closer to the rainbow, the rainbow itself got wider and brighter.  Then we noticed another faint rainbow, right next to it.  It is too faint to see in the pictures I actually took on the way to the cemetery.  The closer we got to the cemetery, the more it seemed that the rainbow was leading us there and that the other end of the rainbow was right over the cemetery. 

As we turned onto the little dirt road that the cemetery was on, I saw two deer standing in the road and I stopped the car, waiting on them to cross and one stopped and looked at me right in the eye; then two more pranced across the road slowly and another made eye contact with me briefly as it leaped into the grassy area on the other side of the road.  I remember the look in their eyes, neither expression (from either deer) was out of fear; you know sometimes you expect the "deer in the headlights" look but that wasn't it at all.  It almost seemed like a gesture of courtesy instead of fear.  I can still see that last deer's face in my mind.  I'll probably always remember the expression on her face and the big fluffy white tail as she turned and leaped into the woods.

I arrived at the cemetery, I looked up to the sky to the rainbow that had guided us there and it disappeared.  Just as quickly as we had spotted in the sky, it was gone.  I drove up the little path through the cemetery and parked next to my dad's unmarked grave.  It still had the flowers we put on it for "decoration" on Mother's Day, seemingly just as we left it (that was the last day I visited him). No grass had grown and no dirt had settled.  It was just as I remembered it.  As I stood there in silence, with gentle warm tears rolling down my face, there was a soft breeze that wrapped itself around me.  The breeze itself wasn't really warm but it wasn't cool either.  All of a sudden I felt completely surrounded by warmth and I just felt completely at peace and knew he was at peace too. 

In the Bible, a single rainbow symbolized God's covenant to Noah to never destroy the earth by flood again.  In modern times, the symbolism of rainbows has been with homosexuality and gay pride but the Christian symbolism remains similar; a single rainbow is a symbol of God's promise to you and his covenant to you to never leave you and to see you through all of the obstacles in your life. 

The double rainbow is the symbol of transformation. My life has totally changed since losing my father.  Its changed for everyone in my family and our family friends. I know losing him has changed me.  When he passed, there were a ton of flowers and plants.  I got a single red rose (which has since dried) that I keep in my living room on top of our entertainment center and a potted plant (a peace lily).  My mom kept most of the flowers and gave some to her brother, sister, and their kids and one to my grandmother. Every plant from my father's funeral that my mom kept herself has died.  Mine is the only one still living that I know of. 

I call it "daddy".  I know that seems incredibly stupid but somehow I guess if I keep that plant alive and talk to him (my dad -- not the plant), that it keeps him alive somehow.  I'm a little neurotic about making sure it gets watered once a week and I keep all of the dead leaves pulled and clipped away and I really care for it.  My momma looked at me so funny the first time I asked her to water Daddy.  We were leaving PT and it was raining and I said to mom -- remind me to water Daddy.. She put her hand out in the rain and said gently, "Your daddy is getting watered right now"...  Somehow that was comforting to me. 

I loved my Daddy.  I never knew how much though until he was gone.  We fought a lot, because we were so much alike and we bucked heads a lot.  But after he coded I held his left hand everytime I saw him, because I knew it was connected straight to his heart.  I miss him so much. I know I always will.

Drops of inspiration

This morning, I was on my way to work and I had my window cracked, which is very unlike me. It was a clear day, cool but not cold, breezy but not windy. I was stopped at a red light when a chilly droplet of dew which had been gathering through the open crack landed onto my hand. It was a single droplet and it made me stop in my tracks. It most certainly got my attention.

 

Sometimes its easy to feel unnoticed, as f we are all raindrops in a huge storm and individually our strength is low; I feel like when we bind together and can create a flood. On the flip side of the same coin, it only took one well-placed droplet of dew to grab my attention and to change the whole tone of my day. No droplet, no matter how small, goes unnoticed. Small gestures toward other people can make a huge impact. Whose hand has your droplet touched today?

Making Plans

 

My planner at work - spoke volumes to me. The pouch includes thank you cards for our dept to be given to other departments and sponsors, bandaids, and a serenity prayer bookmark. Give thanks, always be open to healing, and know that God is in control. Was profound to me.

Coming Home Again

I have been absent from the blog but am still present in my own journey. This past weekend, my husband Johnny took the weekend off to get some rest and of course I put him to work at home. We built and planted five additional raised bed planters, four 30 x 30 inch and one 52 x 30 inch. I planted sun sugar tomatoes, jumbo sweet cantaloupe, crimson sweet watermelon, and green peas. I'll add photos at a later time as it is raining out at the moment.

We didn't go to church on Sunday because we were trying to get our garden finished and I was so blessed by a visit from Norm and Miriam. She is the most amazing seamstress and made me a purse (which is the most beautiful purse that I've ever had) and brought me two buckets of orange tiger lilies. Johnny took the time and made two trenches for me along the fence row and beside our house so I could plant the buckets of lilies.

I am finding my circles are changing and evolving as I grow spiritually and as I begin to heal. I know God places the people in my life exactly when I need them and he will provide for me and my family. God has put me in a situation over the last two years where I had to use my faith by necessity and not by choice. I am learning that it is easier to embrace God and your path and walk with him hand in hand instead of being forced to go in his direction. His will be done.

Raise the Drawbridge and Lower the Portcullis!

I had a confrontation today with someone and my Danger Will Robinson alarm went off. I have problems letting people in who I shouldn't and pushing away the people I should let in. My alarm system is all messed up and I'm trying to sort it out.

Drudging through the loss

It has been just over four months. I still miss her so much. The realness of her absence is becoming more and more evident with each passing day. I usually close my bedroom door when I come home because when she was here, I could sit on my bed and talk to her, while she sat on her bed just across the hall. I still instinctively look for her; I guess a part of me hoping she is still there. She always smiled; even when she felt horrible, she smiled through her pain. There is a great lesson in that. She always loved children and knew the innocence the splendor they possess and she soaked it up like a thirsty plant in a storm. She wanted as much of that as she could get and then more. She loved every child she ever had a hand in raising and even those she didn't. I did not realize until she was gone exactly how many people she had touched: grown men, women, children, girls, boys, she loved them all. It didn't matter what size, color, gender, orientation, status, religion, or 100 other "deal-breakers" for other people. Mom loved people - period. Another lesson. It doesn't matter what particular set of circumstances occurred to put someone in their current situation. The who, how, when, where, and why is irrelevant; at the end of the day, the details don't matter. You just love them through the storm.

My dad has been gone now for 23 months. When I close my eyes, I still replay the vivid memories of us sitting around playing cards or board games as a family. Both of my parents were fierce card players and my parents had been playing as a team for so many years that anyone who dared to challenge the duo was doomed. When they were teaching my sister and I to play, we would have to divide them up and have them on separate teams for either of us to ever have a chance. Which is funny if any of you knew my grandmother (my dad's mother). She was avidly against cards and would not even allow us to play solitaire in her house. I guess it was my father's "silent rebellion" to learn to be such a good canasta player. My parents use to have difficult discussions over the dinner table as a family and they gave us life advice over cards. I didn't know it at the time. I still laugh though every time I think of my father giving my husband Johnny advice, "Son you can either be right or you can be happy". Daddy never was the type to say much, but what he did take the time to say, he made it count. Therein another lesson.

I miss the crisp fall nights gathered around a campfire roasting marshmallows at Walter and Juretta's house. Dad didn't want to be the center of attention very much, but when he did, he jumped in with both feet. I remember listening to him tell corny jokes and stories that seemed to go on forever but I wish so much I could hear his voice again and laugh at the same joke that I had heard 100 times one more time.

Keep the Faith

Some days it feels like I have to constantly remind myself to keep the faith. A lady I work with mentioned this graphic below at work today and I finally found it and thought I would share. I hope it puts a smile on your face like it did mine. 

This should be my sister (Amber) and I's national anthem; whenever we have a rough day, one of the two of us will sing this to the other. With the "rough patch" - and yes I say that loosely, we have endured the last five years, it seems to be always appropriate - by the way, I'm usually the "mister grumpy gills" in this scenario.  

New Beginnings

April 1st - Not a day of pranks for me but a new month, a new quarter, a new start, a new beginning. . .

This year, as some of you already know, I decided to plant a garden with hopes that the constant tending and attention it would require would give me an alternative place to channel my energy from OCD. I chose to start my garden from seeds for several reasons; the most obvious reason being cost effectiveness, but also seeing the change and progress of the actual growth inspires me. Watching something new sprout from something old, dried, shriveled, and seemingly dead amazes me; it reminds me of the basic miracle of life and the grand circle of God's creation.

Sewing my garden and physically planting the seedlings has really been spiritually symbolic for me. Each day I take the time to check on my garden, carefully moistening the seeds with a fine water/plant food mist and I make sure to nourish them daily.  I watch silently as each day they gain strength and essence from the sun and begin to open up and reach for the sky, as if they too, are desperately trying to remind me to look up for my own strength. Its the small things in my life that heighten my awareness of how much beauty actually surrounds all of us at every moment; the reminder of God's love for us is everywhere if you just take the time to look up.

My Hidden Struggles

OCD - Obsessive Compulsive Disorder

I have been struggling with OCD since a child and sometimes the very essence of it exhausts me, but I cannot stop the repetitive thoughts, rituals, or over-exertion on certain things. I try desperately to find a quiet place, but when I think I can begin to hear the silence, all I can hear is the mindless chatter of my brain. Constantly counting everything, noticing every detail, and my mind cannot slow down long enough to absorb any peace. I obsess over details of the little things and have a memory like a steel trap. Most of my memories are extremely vivid, almost as if I could re-live them at any moment. I have been on several different medications and tried to find some sort of outlet for the excess energy, but I am struggling to find the balance. There is so much in my life that I cannot control and its driving me crazy.

BDD in morbidly obese: 

Body Dysmorphic Disorder for me isn't the traditional definition of it clinically.  For me, I have image issues after weight loss, which from what I understand is fairly common. Even though I am no longer 513 pounds, I still see myself as though I am.  When I look down, I still see the massive person I was. People tell me how good I look after losing 200+ pounds but when I see pictures or videos of myself, all I see is the loose skin and the excess weight I still need to lose; the flaws stick out to me, not the accomplishment. I am not trying to have plastic surgery to look like a barbie doll, but I do still see the person I use to be, and not the person who I am today.

According to webmd:

Body Dysmorphic Disorder

Body dysmorphic disorder (BDD) is a type of somatoform disorder, a mental illness in which a person has symptoms of a medical illness, but the symptoms cannot be fully explained by an actual physical disorder. People with BDD are preoccupied with an imagined physical defect or a minor defect that others often cannot see. As a result, people with this disorder see themselves as "ugly" and often avoid social exposure to others or turn to plastic surgery to try to improve their appearance.

BDD shares some features with eating disorders and obsessive-compulsive disorder. BDD is similar to eating disorders in that both involve a concern with body image. However, a person with an eating disorder worries about weight and the shape of the entire body, while a person with BDD is concerned about a specific body part.

Recommended Related to Mental Health

New Black Market Designer Drugs: Why Now?

Read the New Black Market Designer Drugs: Why Now? article > >

People with obsessive compulsive disorder (OCD) have recurring and distressing thoughts, fears, or images (obsessions) that they cannot control. The anxiety (nervousness) produced by these thoughts leads to an urgent need to perform certain rituals or routines (compulsions). With BDD, a person's preoccupation with the defect often leads to ritualistic behaviors, such as constantly looking in a mirror or picking at the skin. The person with BDD eventually becomes so obsessed with the defect that his or her social, work, and home functioning suffers.

BDD is a chronic (long-term) disorder that affects men and women equally. It usually begins during the teen years or early adulthood.

The most common areas of concern for people with BDD include:

• Skin imperfections: These include wrinkles, scars, acne, and blemishes.
• Hair: This might include head or body hair or absence of hair.
• Facial features: Very often this involves the nose, but it also might involve the shape and size of any feature.
• Body weight: Sufferers may obsess about their weight or muscle tone.

Other areas of concern include the size of the penis, muscles, breasts, thighs, buttocks, and the presence of certain body odors.

What Are the Symptoms of Body Dysmorphic Disorder?

Some of the warning signs that a person may have BDD include:

• Engaging in repetitive and time-consuming behaviors, such as looking in a mirror, picking at the skin, and trying to hide or cover up the perceived defect
• Constantly asking for reassurance that the defect is not visible or too obvious
• Repeatedly measuring or touching the perceived defect
• Experiencing problems at work or school, or in relationships due to the inability to stop focusing about the perceived defect
• Feeling self-conscious and not wanting to go out in public, or feeling anxious when around other people
• Repeatedly consulting with medical specialists, such as plastic surgeons or dermatologists, to find ways to improve his or her appearance

And in the morning, I'm making waffles!

The first thing my pastor Dr. Bob taught me is that most people (especially women) view their problems as chocolate chips in a pancake -  not that chocolate could EVER be bad, but figuratively seeing every chocolate chip as an issue and you can see them all at once. Its as if they are multiplying and magnifying the whole thing - some of them even clump together! We try to fix everything all at one time; we're natural multitaskers you know!

God on the other hand deals with our problems like waffles, compartmentalizing every little thing. He works on things one thing at a time. One square and one chocolate chip at a time.