To Tell or Not To Tell...

I had an interview for a part-time job, yesterday.  (the power of prayer is mighty...thank you, prayer warriors!)

No problem.  I can 'sell' myself fairly easily.  Handshake, eye contact, cheery face, show off the multi-thousand dollar smile (the power of orthodontics and false teeth is mighty...thank you, Mom and Dad, and Care Credit!), speak intelligibly, throw a joke in for good measure, and I'm usually walking out with the job.

That's exactly how it went yesterday.  I walked to my car in a state of bliss, thanking the Lord for His provisions, and attempting to mentally calculate how soon we could be out of the pangs of finance-orexia!  (it'll be awhile, but it's a step in the right direction!)  Then, I heard that little voice yell out, "WAIT!  You forgot about you-know-what!"   HOW did I forget to tell her about you-know-who?

To tell or not to tell, that's never been my question.  Because I've always told.  Has it worked out negatively? You betcha.  But in those situations?  I figured those just weren't the paths God wanted me on.  As much as it's hurt my pride, my feelings, and even my checkbook...He has always had something better for me.  And you know what they say about pride.  It comes before the fall.  So does foot drop.  I'm just sayin'.

me:  "I was having so much fun yesterday that I forgot to tell you something"
her:  "okay?"
me: "anytime I've approached an employment situation over the past 12yrs, I always like to disclose the fact that I have ms.  And what that looks like in the workplace is that I might use the bathroom frequently.  Also, I might look tired, but I provided references from several people who have worked with me and whom I've worked for so that you could......"
her: :::interrupting:::  "I don't care"
me, like a little kid who was just given a giant lollipop:  "really???"
her:  "really"

Thank You, Lord:-)  Her reaction showed me that this is obviously a path He wants me on.

...maybe I should've told her how I walk into things?  Eh, I was about to.  Guess everyone will figure it out when they hear the thud.

(the power of prayer is mighty...)

Isolation Island

i·so·la·tion [ ssə láysh'n ]

1.separation from others: the process of separating somebody or something from others, or the fact of being alone and separated from others

2.geographic remoteness: remoteness from other inhabited areas or buildings

Just saying the word quietly to myself gives me a chilled feeling.  Then again, I have the heat turned off in here.  Maybe the chill is legit and I just need to reclaim my snuggie from the basset hound.
 
Isolation can be something I choose or simply a place I find myself in.  When I choose it, it's because I don't want others to see just how hot of a mess I am at the moment.  And these are some pretty important people.  The family members who just want to know how I'm doing.  The husband who just wants to hold me at night.  The church family that probably wonders just what the heck happened to me.  MS and finance-orexia.  That's what's happening.
 
I feel like people wouldn't understand.  It's hard enough for them to comprehend what it's like to have ms when they can see a person wearing the symptoms, but how about us 'invisible symptoms' folks?  Though right now, I suppose you could say I'm having 'audible symptoms'.  I whipped out with a word salad yesterday, as I accompanied my daughter to a doctor's appointment, that should've received some sort of award for 'shock value'!  The nurse literally stopped what she was doing, put her pen down and said..."I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"  To which I said, "probably not". 
 
For those times I simply find myself there?  I'm reminded to deliberately fight my way out.  It's as if my choosing to quarantine is so much more acceptable.  If I end up there without intending on it...well, in the words of The Bugs Bunny, "thems fightin' words!"  Listen, I never proclaimed to make sense.  Maybe my reasoning got lost in one of those holes.
 
Today - I found myself in isolation.
 

SO...

 
Today - I'm choosing to drink my coffee from the special mug my friend brought to my house one morning when I had been in isolation for so long that my spirit hit the wall...hard.  I remember like it was yesterday.  I found myself lost in my closet, unable to choose an outfit, to brush my teeth, to stop twitching, to stop crying.  Something in me forced myself to send her a message.  Within the hour, she arrived with her Bible, a bag of coffee, and this mug.  Her presence seemed to melt away the coldness and darkness I had become stuck in.  I always say..."everybody needs a Debbie":-)
 
Today - I will consciously focus on stepping out of isolation. 
 

...because nobody puts Baby in a corner... 

 
 
Where can I go from your Spirit? Where can I flee from your presence? If I go up to the heavens, you are there; if I make my bed in the depths, you are there. – Psalm 139:7-8

He'll Never Let Me Go (...a God post)

Sometimes I'll write a post and doubt whether or not I should click on that orange 'publish post' button.  This is one of those.  Okay, many of them are 'those'.  Oh well, I guess I'll just type it as it comes and let the cookies crumble how they like;-)

:::rubbing face with both hands::: 

Last night, a friend of my husband's was poking fun at me for my faith. 

Disclaimer:  She was not attempting to be malicious.  She was, more or less, jokingly mocking me.  There's a difference in my book.  One I can attempt to speak to, while the other simply requires a head shake.

I know what it is that gets me through each day.  A God I haven't always known.  A Creator who cared so much for me that He continued to pursue me.  He has given me the miracle of a healed child, and of a restored marriage.  He's shown me that who I thought I was?  Pales in comparison to all that He intends me to be.  The strength I always credited myself with?  Can't hold a candle to the strength He gives me.  He calms me.  Wait.  Let me say that again...

He calms me.

Doctors #1-5:  "If your son survives, the best case scenario is that he'll have at least some form of mental retardation."

(...and that's when I found out just how 'real' God is)

Psychologist #1:  "I don't think you've accepted the fact that your son will never...(insert things parents dream of for their children)

(...circa 2011, son has been and done all the things that guy listed, as well as additional things he may have said, but the steam from my ears rendered me unable to hear.  My son may have the word 'restored' handwritten in black ink within his med chart, achieve distinguished honors in school, play sports, and be actively involved in school gov't, but his biggest victory is his faith and trust in the Lord.)

Psychologist #2:  "I don't think you've accepted the reality, Tina.  You have a chronic, lifelong, debilitating disease"

(Totally get that, but I refuse to cry over it.  It doesn't deserve my tears.)

And last night...

Husband's friend, as hockey team was getting blown out:  "don't you have to go to the bathroom to pray?"

(...what's that catchy, new abbreviation?  'SMH'.  Yeah, that:-)

It's okay.  Not everyone has been brought to a state of emotional weakness that drove them to their knees in a literal fashion, as I have - so prayer might sound silly.  Not everyone has found themselves face down on the floor, sobbing, feeling as if everything was spinning out of control and there was nothing they could do to change it - so faith might seem frivolous.  And if they've never fallen down 10 steps in front of their toddlers, landed in a crumpled heap, knocked the wind out of themselves, and had to communicate through a series of clicks and grunts to obtain a phone to call their mother for help...

Well then...they probably don't have ms;-)

When MS Is Near The Bottom of My Worry List...

If life was "fair", the folks at Corporate would take a look at my file and say, "you know, ms is certainly a challenging thing to deal with on a daily basis.  Let's avoid giving her anything else."  Alas, this life is anything but.

I typically don't provide my husband with a play-by-play of the goings on within our checkbook, which is suffering from perhaps its worst case of finance-orexia to date.  I keep these stresses close to the vest for no other reason than the fact that he is working as many jobs and hours as possible.  But you know how that goes.  He ends up unknowingly stepping foot into my inner bear trap with a simple statement like, "my workboots are coming apart".  Something like that throws me straight over the edge.  It becomes the single worst financial catastrophe known to man.  Does he seriously expect his entire foot to be covered in a boot?  Diva material right there.  Or, like this morning, "I really need that part for my truck.  It's wanting to shut off."  Right there with ya, busted up Chevy truck. 

I'm considering crafting a 'coffee table book' out of all the collections letters on my desk.  I mean, come on...there are light blues, hot pinks, and even an orange.  Slightly tacky, don't you think?  As if I'll choose whom to pay by the color of their threat.  Although, this orange is actually pretty impressive;-)  At least the mortgage company doesn't insult my intelligence in such a fashion.  Their letters are classic white, corporate letterhead, hand signed, and delivered via courier service.  Clearly, someone has taste.

Alas, ms shows its face in this increasingly intense trial.  I need to get a part-time job, but when I'm already putting in 40hrs/wk and dragging myself through what is commonly known as "Friday", it seems a bit daunting.  And it goes without saying that we ms'ers know how we are NOT to become stressed out.  Am I the only person who recites, "I'm not gettin' stressed out over this" over and over in my mind?

I know that God has a plan.  He promises to carry us through every trial and I've seen it time and time again.  It's not hard to count my blessings, because there are so many.  I fought with myself as to whether or not I should write all of this, but I thought if there was at least one fellow ms'er out there going through the same thing, they could be blessed by it in some way. 

If that's the case, let's join together in keeping an ear to the sky, and trying to be patient enough to allow God to work this out for His good;-)  And if you have additional ideas for how I might decorate with these pretty letters, let me know! 

Be well!

List of Things That Make Me Feel Dumb

I've compiled a list of 11 things that make me feel dumb, because 10 is not enough.  And I blame ms.

...in no particular order:

1. forgetting my grocery list
2. forgetting the grocery list my husband made for the groceries I didn't get when I forgot the original list
3. hitting myself in the head with my hair dryer while drying my hair...more mornings than not
4. spraying hairspray in my eye, face, and/or mouth...more mornings than not
5. putting the cereal box in the fridge and the milk in the pantry
6. finding it difficult to operate a purse with more than 2 compartments
7. hitting things with the passenger's side of my car
8. unintentionally flinging objects I may be holding in my right hand
9. walking into a wall
10. occasionally speaking in "alphabet soup" sentences
11. chalking that 'bugs crawling on me' feeling up to ms, when it's actually a stink bug 

Like...here's my car's latest bruise, due to "October Freaksnow 2011" (and a slight miscalculation):

TGIP, baby!!!  (Thank God It's Plastic?)

Some may say, "Tina?  Do you really think it's fair to blame ms for all of these things?"  To which I say...absolutely.  I went to high school in the 80's, naysayers.  Imagine the traumatic head injury I'd have caused had I clunked myself in the forehead with the giant hair dryer of old?  All while bent in half to create the giant hair necessary with which to go to the mall?  Also?  I'd have blinded myself with one shot of Aquanet to the eye, or required skin grafting had I sprayed myself in the face.  Ladies of the 80's, I know you hear me;-)

What's a girl to do?  Eh :::shrugging:::, accept the fact that I'll need to go for groceries 2 and 3 times a week.  Steer clear of objects on my right, even when walking.  Always verify the presence of a bug prior to assuming otherwise.  Look in the pantry for milk.  And perhaps most importantly, close my eyes whilst applying hairspray.  Shame they don't tell you all this when they dx you, right?

Mother Knows Best - Until Her Son Shows Her Otherwise :-)

My son came down with his annual case of 'croupy, coughy, tightness in the chesty' mess last week.  He's been going around this mountain for all of his 12 yrs, so he's really pretty good at it.  Now that he's older, all it seems to require is lots of hot tea, a couple of days home from school - tucked away in blankets, and a few gallons of orange juice.  At night, we slather some Vicks on the bottoms of his feet, put a pair of Daddy's big socks on him, and he sleeps like a rock.  Can't say "like a baby", because no baby of mine ever really slept.

He woke up this morning, Day 7, better but not 100%.  The barking cough was more of a typical cough.  He was very much looking forward to participating in his playoff hockey game tonight.  His mother (ahem), a rather neurotic woman when it comes to his health on account of how many hospitals and doctors' offices she's held him in, automatically dashed his hopes of playing.  What did he do?  He played her like a fiddle.  That's what he did.

How'd he beat me at my own game?  Easily.  He used my own weaponry against me.  That catalog of weapons?  Includes coolness under fire, quiet and patient persistence when there is a strong belief in something, and when the moment calls for it, a passionate plea.

I don't know about other moms out there, but when you're looking (slightly) down at your child and he says stuff like, "Mommy, you don't have to worry about me.  I wouldn't ask if I didn't feel well enough.  I really just want to play is all", it's still pretty easy to say no.

But when you have something like ms and your child says, "it would mean a lot to me"  :::eyes welling up with tears, long pause, slight smile that expresses the utmost of respect:::  "Nobody stops you..." 

...it causes you to recall the doctor's advice to stop doing many of the things you love to do, your husband's worry and advice against some of the things you like to do for fun.  You've got 2 big, beautiful hazels staring straight into yours.  What do you do?

:::you hand him his helmet and tell him to kick tail:::

He played perhaps the best game of his entire season.  He was a sliding, diving, goal stopping, tenacious defenseman!  And when he came off the dek in a 5-3 loss, which was much more lopsided in favor of the opposing team than the score reflected, the first thing he said to me was:  "Thanks, Mom!  That was awesome..."

No, buddy.  You are awesome. 

Resilience.  Inner strength.  Character.

When the Lord uses my friends to sharpen me, I'm so very thankful.  But when He uses my children in such a way?  I'm completely, fully, and totally...humbled:-)

Reflecting On Yesteryear, Finding The Joy In Today:-)

A very dear high school student stopped by my classroom to see if I'd mind serving as a "supervisor" for her, and a small group of her friends, who wanted to conduct a preseason workout in the weight room.  Preseason?  Like as in sports?  As if I'd ever say no to helping out with that!

While the girls conducted their workout and socialized, I sat there with my feet-of-thorns propped up on a weight bench...reflecting.  I remembered being a teenager.  I remembered how the majority of my friends couldn't wait to hear that last school bell ring on a Friday afternoon, because that meant they'd soon be out on the town until the wee hours of the morning.  Me?  I couldn't wait to hear that bell, because it meant I'd be practicing whatever sport was in season, or I'd be in the weight room with a few friends, laughing and chatting about life...just as these gals were.  Because come on, I wasn't allowed out past 10pm.  Army Dad;-)

Athletics were my life.  They were how I defined myself.  The newspaper articles, the travel teams, the championships, the trophies, the tryouts, and the "atta girl"s.  On the less glamorous side of the coin, there were also the injuries, the hurts-so-bad-it-feels-good pain, and the 2 false teeth I have from a home plate collision.  But I was safe.  As if you had to ask...

Most of all?  I remember the fun! 

...like playing goalie in my senior year for a coach who openly admitted to peeing when she jumped up and down.  She'd say, "you give me a heart attack when you charge out of your net at the forward, but when you make the save, I jump up and down...and pee a little!"  Who knew I'd grow up to be just a bit like her?  Almost like that thing your mother does to you when she wishes your kids to act just like you?  Not fair.



...like how much I loved playing softball.  And how I played since I was just an itty bitty.  And how my life, as well as my parents' lives, revolved around my practices, games, tryouts, tournaments, travels up and down the entire east coast, yada yada.  If I were them, I'd demand a refund.

But stuff happens.  Stuff like ms.  Now, the most athletic thing I'm capable of?  Is grocery shopping. 

Well, I do try to exercise.  Sadly, I haven't yet mastered the point at which I'm supposed to cease activity.  Obviously, I'm a slow learner after 12yrs of living with ms.  When I exert myself, I become dizzy, my vision blurs, and my legs morph into cement blocks that twitch.  I tell myself to push through it, just as I did my entire athletic life.  I was always the sturdy girl who could run miles that skinny girls struggled with.  Why?  Because I have just a little bit o' crazy in me!  Too crazy to stop, too stubborn to quit.  Maybe that's a good mindset to have with ms?

The other athletic thing I can do?  Is clip the plastic chips off the shoes of people who run for people like me.  Sure, I may have gotten dizzy with the standing up and leaning over.  Yes, my hand may have begun to cramp and twitch.  Certainly, I may have had to relinquish my clippers to another volunteer when I could no longer see whether I was cutting the chip or the person's shoelaces, but...

...that's okay, because I sure did have fun!  And I'll do it again this year. 

Yesteryear can sometimes feel like a lifetime ago.  While it sometimes can feel as if I was able to do much more than I am today, it doesn't take me long to realize that I'm so blessed to be able to do abundantly more.  I'm thankful to be "redefined".  Here are a few of my favorite things of present:

I get to experience the joy in cheering for my kids:-)

I get to volunteer in a camp kitchen.  And when I do, I raise the roof.

 

But perhaps the most fulfilling and, arguably, most important thing I can do?  I can throw one foot on top of another, bask in the sun, and teach my kids to notice God in every last detail...

...thank You for my every blessing, Lord:-)))