That Phrase - "Let Whatever You Do Today Be Enough"

I'm really fighting with this:

Because I'm sitting here, comfortably nestled in my desk chair, fuzzy cat next to me, watching dust bunnies frolic under the gentle breezes of...the ceiling fan.

"Let whatever you do today be enough"

To say my house could use a good cleaning is like saying the inside of a 50yr old chimney could use a little dusting.  It's an understatement of ridiculous proportions. And the lawn?  That's standing slightly above my ankles.

"Let whatever you do today be enough?"

I don't know what constitutes 'enough'.  I find myself searching for the things I've done today to see if they measure up to some magic line.  I mean, I did get out of bed.  I dragged a brush through my hair and across my teeth - different brushes.  I went to work for a few hours and got a bunch o' stuff done.  I even put food in the microwave and called it 'lunch'. Because lately...lunch is a victory.  I often don't feel like stopping whatever it is I'm doing at work to dislodge myself from my chair, go to the mini fridge, remove it, unwrap it, and eat it.  See how many steps that requires?  On weekends, it's worse.  I don't feel like stopping the nothing that I'm doing to even prepare it.  I'm so over it.  Lunch, that is.

"Let whatever you do today be enough???"

You are not helping, little phrase that keeps replaying in my mind.  My husband, that guy who works 6 days a week (and has for the past 14 years), will be home in 3 hours.  Yet, here I sit...observing moving conglomerations of animal hair in their natural habitat - as if I'm writing a piece for Nat'l Geographic.  Mind you, the husband won't even notice the house or the grass.  I think he's so blinded by my fabulousity that...no, let me be real...he's just too exhausted to notice by Saturday evening.  And my kids?  They do so much already.  While their friends are enjoying fun things...my kids are doing dishes, helping with laundry, taking care of our pets, and writing grocery lists that I consistently forget to take with me.  I'm seriously glad that they're too old to write those "What I Did This Summer" reports in school...  

Hmpf.  Certainly looks like a gorgeous day out there.  So why is it that all I wanna do is carry this cat up to my bedroom, plop him on the corner of my pillow, lay down, and read my bible?

Maybe because that's 'enough'.  For today, anyway.

Awkward Gym Moments

I realized today that I have a lot of awkward moments at the gym.  How did I realize this? By having an awkward moment at the gym. Actually, two of them.

And I fully blame ms.  Why?  Because I can, that's why. All those copays and tests and medical reports give us certain rights...

Today started out innocent enough. I felt as if I could handle the treadmill in lieu of the stationary bike. I've not really been adventurous enough to try the treadmill for all of these months on account of how the marks on the toes of my shoes seem to have gotten a bit darker. And come on, it's one thing to trip and scuff your shoes whilst out on a walk around the neighborhood. It's a whole 'nuther to trip on a treadmill (aka 'rotating conveyor belt of moderate to severe injury'), fall, and be flung against the wall. I haven't felt particularly 'trippie' in the last few days, so I gave it a try.

I boarded the treadmill, pushed my ear buds into my ears, clipped my iThingie to my shirt, turned it on, turned it UP, started bopping my head a bit (thank you, Calvin Harris...you crazy DJ, you) and started to walk...

Within .10 of a second, I realized that the belt does not move until you actually TURN ON the treadmill.  I tripped and caught myself against the handles that measure your heart rate.  Unfortunately, the guy next to me totally saw it happen.

(This would've been the perfect time to use the "I'm not drunk, I have ms" mantra.)

My finale du jour occurred on the arm machine. I had pushed myself beyond exhaustion and gotten to that level of exercise where I really could not have cared less what I looked like. I slouched in my seat, wiped my face over and over, and felt as if I just kicked my workout right in the face! But I wasn't done. I thought I had one more set left in me! As I rested, I was enjoying my music a little too much and noticed an approaching man with a look of bewilderment on his face. I realized I was dancing in my seat.

(Again, not drunk...ms...)

Thankfully, the gym's slogan is "the judgment free zone". Because I've done things like...

• excitedly wave at someone I thought I knew...but didn't
• realize I needed to use the bathroom...5 minutes ago
• walk straight into a very large man...face plant into his chest
• place my bottle of water back into the cupholder of my bike...and miss
• try to wipe my face with my towel...and poke myself in the eye 

If someone throws a stare my way, I shall point to the wall as a reminder:

So don't judge me, fellow exercisers. Because the wall SAYS so. With an "e".

Meh, I figure at least I'm trying? Yes. At least I'm trying :-)

Life is...fast.

'Tis the time of year that we sit at end-of-the-school-year ceremonies and watch our kids magically transform from one grade to the next.

I'm pretty sure that - just yesterday - I dropped my daughter off at preschool and struggled mightily to carry my son in that ludicrously heavy carseat.  Alas, they're now heading full speed into the 10th and 8th grades, respectively.

Ridiculous.

As I watched them stand in front of the audience, my 200mph mind flew through the years.  I thought about holding them in the hospital, and cleaning the baby food off the wall (Mom was right, I let my daughter feed herself too early), and watching them board the bus for the 1st (and 2nd - 8th times), and all the medical stuff our son overcame, and all the awesome things they've accomplished, and how they're kinda getting old now but I'm so not...and then I began to think of the future and all the things I hope for them.  Like that they'll always have an awareness of God's loving presence, and that they'll be able to go to the college they want, and have careers they enjoy, and find a godly spouse who loves and treats them with respect, and be a godly spouse who does those things, and that they'll never have their hearts broken and never have so much as a cold and never have a credit card and never go into a bathroom stall that's out of toilet paper and never have someone upset them or take their parking space........

:::you see where I'm going, and you surely feel the speed of my thoughts:::

Anyway.

While June marks the end of a school year and realization that yet ANOTHER year has flown by, quickly following comes the recognition of the year my uninvited guest moved in.  14 years ago, this year.  Official dx, 10 years ago.

(CST, I don't know if you still happen across my blog posts from time to time?  But I'll always cherish the loving way in which you delivered that news.  You will always mean the world to me.) 

All this to say...life isn't short.  It's fast!  And I praise God for every moment...

Could someone please stop this guy?  Seriously???

Anxiety - (this post really has very little to do with MS)

Anxiety: 

• an unpleasant state of inner turmoil
• often accompanied by nervous behavior
• subjectively unpleasant feelings of dread over something unlikely to happen
• unrealistic fear, worry, and uneasiness, usually generalized and unfocused

:::Thanks, wiki, for your spot on thoughts.:::

I've been anxious for as long as I can recall. 

:::I'm worried this monkey in the box will come to life:::



:::just like this one:::

Seriously?

I never knew it was anxiety, though. I mean, I thought everyone incessantly picked at their fingernail beds and worried about...everything. Most children read books with nursery rhymes, but my favorite literary work was one of those giant, hardcover medical books. And with each turn of the page, I was sure I had that illness...that symptom...and that prognosis. I still recall informing my mother, sometime around age 6 or so, that I had a kidney infection. In my tooth.

Hypochondriac, much?  Mmhmm. 

I'm here to tell you, some 34yrs after my self-diagnosed renal/dental...situation???...that anxiety has been a more annoying, more pervasive, and more noticeable 'uninvited guest' than MS. It's just that MS seems a lot easier to talk about. Or maybe that's just the anxiety talkin'...child of the 70's...you just don't talk about certain things and this is one of them. That's why there's no car magnet for it. If there's no car magnet, I don't think we talk about it.  #carmagnetpermission

I could go on about all those panic attacks that have woken me out of sound sleep, and the fun times that invisible elephant decided to perch itself upon my chest, and the exciting times I've nearly passed out from fear, and let's not forget those exhilarating times I've ended up in the ER with my heart pounding out of my chest. Actually, I think my favorite hospital story was the one where I was in for stomach ulcers. And they had to do an endoscopy. And I began to panic as they were putting me under anesthesia...and I reached out and grabbed the sleeve of the anesthetist...and started yelling (mumbling incoherently) for her not to leave me, because I didn't want to die via some strange allergic reaction to...and zzzzzzz...and...I woke up in some new "bracelets". Thankfully, the nurses in recovery realized I was really quite okay, just momentarily terrified, and immediately set me free. Then they got me some ginger ale. Ginger ale is important to my story, because this fear of medical stuff I occasionally experience isn't completely without merit. I did have a reaction to a medication immediately following the birth of my daughter. The lights went out on me...and didn't seem to come back on for a long while. I just remember the darkness, the commotion, the elephant, the commotion, the breath leaving me...intense pressure in my thigh as someone jabbed me with something.......the lights coming...back...on, the elephant getting lighter, and...eventually...ginger ale.

...but I think I said I wouldn't go into all of that ;-)

What I'd like to do is invite you to laugh with me. Because tonight was an anxious person's "you gotta be kiddin' me" night.  Allow me to explain:

Tonight, my kids had an event at school. A big event. With lots of people. And when there's an event with lots of people, especially people I love (like our school family), I hyperfocus on making sure I say hello, yet do not interrupt people's conversations + don't stand out/be noticed + don't trip and fall while hugging someone (ok, so that's MS-related).

Keep that in mind.

My grandmother attended the event, which was a huge blessing, but her mobility is such that she needed to sit in a very accessible place. Where was that place? Um. Just shy of the absolute middle of the gymnasium floor. Like this:

Just a short while into the presentation, my grandmother goes to the restroom. And doesn't come back. I was no longer able to focus on the beauty of the event, because my mind kept saying, "there are over 100 people staring at you, because you are in the middle. of. the. floor."  

I got up and moved. Oh em gee...they're all staring at me, because I'm moving from the middle of the floor to...oh, yes...they're probably wondering where I'm going, just like the giant token on the Price Is Right Plinko game. I chose an inconspicuous spot near the wall where no one would notice me. A place of solace from which I could enjoy the rest of the presentation. Ahhhhhh...serenity now :-)

The art teacher was up next. As she was making a heartfelt presentation of a student's award winning masterpiece, I realized that she was describing the piece that was...

Directly. Be. Hind. Me.

:::unintentional Dr Seuss feet:::

At that moment, my mind again said, "there are over 100 people staring at you".  But this time, it was absolutely true.

PANIC SET IN. Time and motion slowed down around me. My legs went weak. My heart began to pound out of my chest. I didn't know what to do and, obviously, the floor had not opened and swallowed me, as I'd hoped it would do. So I did what any anxiety-riddled, panic-stricken woman would do. I smiled and slowly maneuvered myself...right in front of a coworker?

NO!!!  NOT. THAT. WAY.

My mind did this:

I then shuffled my feet the opposite way, thereby crossing the line of sight between approximately 100+ kind people (goodness gracious, that's a minimum of 200 eyes!) and the beautiful work of art they were trying their best to focus on. Sans me.

I passed it off by accessing * and re-enacting * a memory from the Price Is Right:

It worked. Humor always works. And now that it's been about 3 hours, my heart has settled down, the panic is over, and I'm pretty exhausted.

How do I cope with anxiety? Well, pretty much the same way I cope with MS. I try to focus on this:

I'm grateful that the Lord felt it necessary to speak about anxiety on several occasions throughout His Word. I'm grateful for the progress I've made from the playpen era to the 40yr-old-me era. I'm grateful for things that help refocus my heart and mind, such as prayer, the Word, and good tunes!

And I'm grateful for my family, because they keep me from taking myself way too seriously...

Be blessed, people!

Being Someone Else...for 5 Minutes

Today, for about 5 minutes, I was "Jill".

Allow me to explain:

Jill is my friend. Jill is also my coworker, who happens to be away on a school field trip. She is perhaps one of the last remaining working women who still receives a live paycheck, rather than having it directly deposited. And I got to thinking, doesn't she kinda like...need that? A brief chat confirmed my ramblings. Indeed, Jill would most certainly appreciate her paycheck in her bank account. Seeing as how I am the processor of paychecks, live or otherwise, I offered to make the deposit. We bank at the same place. There's a Dunkin' Donuts nearby. You see where this is going.

I approached the teller and presented Jill's deposit slip and paycheck, on which I scratched a sketchy 'for deposit only'. My mind was totally focused on what type of coolatta I would order when the teller took the items, smiled warmly, looked them over and said:

"I'll be right back, Jill :-)"

:::I've banked here 4yrs and she doesn't know I'm Tina? That's what I get for only banking via drive-thru::

My surprise and near offense shook me from my thoughts of 'vanilla bean or regular?', but quickly traded hands with my lofty imagination.  This hole-filled mind took flight. It said:

"Shhhh, self. Go with it for a moment...we're Jill! We drive a minivan! We drink diet Pepsi! We're NOT 40! We can even walk in heels! HEELS, I SAY!"

...and then it said:

"Hey. We're...healthy."

Healthy? Oh, mind. Stop it.

Honestly, I don't know that I remember what 'that' feels like. I mean, seriously...what's it like to see clearly and with perfect color? Yet, as I stood at the teller's crafty cut-out window, staring around at the bland carpet and furnishings...I didn't notice my 'eye flies'! Probably because the carpet has a pattern that resembles eye flies. It's an ms'ers dream. Or nightmare. Anyway.

My mind was having a wonderful time imagining what it would be like to be...non-Tina. I could eat my lunch without those annoying electric shock sensations in my left cheek. That vibration on the top of my head? Wouldn't. I could breathe deeply without chest wall pain. That would be really, really.....really...........nice :-)

Alas, reality struck when the teller returned to thank me and provide me a receipt for my transaction. Or Jill's. She wished Jill a great day. And out I went...

Back to being Tina. Back to the random twitching, the kaleidoscope of eye flies, the chest discomfort, the buzzing scalp, and the chicken salad for lunch that may or may not feel a lot like chewing on tin foil.

Was I disappointed? Not at all. 'Cause I'd soon have a Dunkin' delicacy in the cupholder of that snazzy, slightly dented, heavily scuffed suv of mine. And that's a beautiful thing :-)

Also beautiful? Direct deposit.

Way more beautiful? That all of this is just temporary.

Guilt Be Gone

I woke up this morning feeling absolutely awful.  Similar to that feeling you have after you've been in a car accident.  Or fall down 10 steps.

Not at all like when you fall down 5 steps or less.  This was definitely a '10-step-fall' feeling.

So I went back to bed.

Back to bed on a glorious Sunday morning, as my family members woke up in happy, joyous moods.  We love Sunday mornings for the time we get to spend at worship with each other and with our church family.  There was a beautiful breeze blowing.  The birds were singing.  My hounds were laying out on the deck, sunning themselves. Everything around me was just wonderful and peaceful and perfect...

But I couldn't stand the pressure of what felt like a head the size of 5 watermelons crushing down upon my neck.  I had a choice.  Actually, no. I did not give myself a choice. I went back to bed and placed the burden of my watermelonous head upon...my pillow.

Why is 'watermelonous' coming up in my spell check?  That's totally a word. If it's not, it should be.

You know, I used to feel guilty for laying around during such beautiful weather days.  I used to feel guilty if I missed going to church with my family because of how physically wrecked I felt.  I used to feel guilty for remaining in my pajamas all day.  I used to feel like my family thought of me as an annoyance, or worse...lazy.  "Lazy" was always a very, very bad word growing up in my family.

Know what?  I'm so over that.

My near 14yrs of living with ms have taught me much.  One of the biggest things I've learned?  Is that guilt has no place here.  Living with chronic illness is challenging enough without the additional drama of every expectation I was placing on myself.

Totally over that.  Or at least I am today.

:::one day at a time mentality:::

And it's just one of the many reasons I love the second half of the Serenity Prayer :-)

God, grant me the Serenity

To accept the things I cannot change...

Courage to change the things I can,

And Wisdom to know the difference.

Living one day at a time,

Enjoying one moment at a time,

Accepting hardship as the pathway to peace.

Taking, as He did, this sinful world as it is,

Not as I would have it.

Trusting that He will make all things right

if I surrender to His will.

That I may be reasonably happy in this life,

And supremely happy with Him forever in the next.

Beauty = Pain

Am I right, ladies?  Or maybe it's just me.

See...

I have a way of spraying myself in the eye with my hairspray, because I use my right hand to wield the can and don't exactly have the best of right-sided peripheral vision.

Dear Johnson & Johnson:  Please develop a high quality, 'no tears' hairspray.  Thanks in advance.

I've inherited many of my father's undesirable traits, such as giant eyebrows (and migraines and freak neurology, but who's counting?), which means there's tweezing...lots and lots of tweezing.  Part of my freak neurology is that one side of my body (left) is hyposensitive, while the other (right) is HYPERsensitive.  Tweezing my left eyebrow is fantastic.  The right?  Torturous.

I know the question you're asking, "why not wax, Tina?"  Well, because I had a little accident with my hot wax kit once.  It involved a hand tremor, which resulted in an unfortunate drip onto an eyelash?  'Nuff said.

I have friends who can't wait for their monthly trips to the salon.  Me?  Not so much. The brisk washing of my hair feels a lot like someone put rolls of quarters in their gloves.  I don't go until my hair begins to overtake me.  At that point, the pain is worth it.

Even the shaving of my legs can be something to contend with.  Remember...left side is hyposensitive, the right side is HYPERsensitive.  I shave a fairly numb leg, then muster up the courage to scrape layers of skin off the other - or so it feels.

Like I said - Beauty.  It's painful.

Lest I forget the times I've stuffed myself into the spandex prison commonly known as Spanx for occasional fancy events in which I wished to fool others into believing I was 10lbs thinner than I truly am, or at least that I carry my weight differently than I do.  Truth is, it was definitely all there, screaming to get out.  By midway through the events, I was ready to cut myself free.  Anyone without MS who wonders what the "MS hug" is can just stuff themselves into Spanx and viola...there it is.

Personally, since we're all about requiring labels on simple items, like "coffee-is-hot" and "don't-throw-your-hair-dryer-in-this-bathtub-full-of-water", maybe they should sew this on Spanx:

...ya know, so people are "informed" and all.

Speaking of hair dryers, I just had to replace mine.  I can tell I'm not yet used to it, because I've hit myself in the head with the barrel.  Repeatedly.  Again, right handed, right-sided peripheral vision/spatial awareness issue...and a slightly longer barrel than the previous one.  Resulting in literal bump on head.

I'm telling you - Beauty.  It's painful.

Dare I move on to coloring of the hair?  Just tonight, I covered my hair in purple goop that magically transformed my gray to 'light caramel brown'...all in 20 minutes.  That's a long 20 minutes, so I like to do stuff like load the dishwasher while I'm passing the time.  My dogs run away from me and my husband laughs.  Go on and mock, people...you don't want me to let this go.  Trust me.  All's well until it's time to rinse - head over tub - resulting in no less than 12hrs of vertigo due to prolonged-almost-upside-down-ness.  I did well tonight...only walked into the vanity once.  I believe that's a new record!

Apparently, beauty isn't just painful.  It's also uncomfortable.  And can result in bruising.

Thank goodness for this assurance from Proverbs 31:

Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised.

:::no mention here of tweezers:::