I’m heading into week three of being sick…two different illnesses…and week three of no aerobics. This is where I planned to say, “SEE?!? THIS KIND OF THING HAPPENS EVERY TIME I TRY TO IMPLEMENT A HEALTHY ROUTINE IN MY LIFE.” But, I won’t, well, except where I just said it anyway. I’m not going to let this throw me. When I’m better, I will get back at it. I refuse to see this as a ploy by my bod to make sure I never whip it back into shape or a sign that I am allergic to exercise. It is what it is and I am not going to beat myself up about not being able to jump around and get sweaty right now.
I have plenty of other things to worry about so I choose to remove that from my list.
There are times like tonight when the reality of my own life is overwhelming. It usually happens when the house is quiet and all the kids are in their beds. It’s at this time of night I have a chance to really think about things. Every day seems to move faster and more furiously toward too many events I cannot understand or control.
In the quiet night air is where anxious and stomach churning thoughts often disrupt what should be a peaceful end to the day. It’s hard to ignore the pain I feel at the end of each day when my body starts to feel the repercussions of any physical activity I may have been a part of. It can get so intense that it feels like punishment for participating in my own life.
It’s when I retire to my own bed earlier than almost every other person my age that I think of my sick little boy sleeping in his own bed. I worry about seizures that may go unheard. I sicken over the knowledge of my own weakness when he is in need. If an emergency arose, would I reach him fast enough? Could I physically do what is necessary if needed? I usually push these thoughts from my head the moment my husband appears in the doorway of our bedroom. “What would I do without him?” A thought of appreciation but also a bit of a morbid one, but a thought most parents with a sick child have frequently. We wonder how the delicate balance of our family could be repaired if we lost one of us. The magnitude of such a reality is frightening.
Often, when I recall my own thoughts of the day, I realize death lingers in my own mind more often than I am willing to admit. I have a chronic disease. My disease is running rampant while I am holding on with any last scrap of optimism I can muster. I wonder how I have any thoughts that even resemble positivity because life certainly hasn’t handed out a fair share of difficulty. It seems like the scale is not tipped in our favor. When one terrible event happens, another is rushing toward us.
The big issue with chronic illness is the “chronic” part of the phrase. It’s definition; constant or having a long duration tells me what kind of hope my son and I have at a release from disease and pain. With incurable disease, the disease never ends and freedoom from it comes only through death. With pain a constant companion to incurable, chronic disease, it isn’t a wonder why my thoughts seem quite morbid. It’s also easy to understand why I’m depressed. There isn’t an end to the pain or side effects of disease…….. there is no end. There are no cures or a remission for us. Medicine and surgery only treat the symptoms and based on the drastic measures we are taking to treat our son’s symptoms, it sometimes doesn’t feel like much of a life at all.
Dreams are put on hold, plans are cancelled, and hope seems lost. But it’s that small word almost at the end of the last sentence that have given strength to so many in worse circumstances than my own. Sometimes it’s the only thing people who feel weary and burdened use to overcome. Hope.
Hope is a word manifested through people, actions, and words. Hope is sometimes given, sometimes it’s stumbled upon, but hope is often the only thing left when everything else feels lost. On those days when I am focused on going back to bed because of the relentless pain, I cling to the hope that tomorrow will be better. I have hope that I can make each day wonderful in spite of it. Hope is the echos of a good deed. Those echos reverberate in my heart, especially in recent times, and have often brought me to tears. From gesures of kind thoughts or prayers to giving generously with no ask of recognition, we have felt more love than we may have felt in a lifetime with no difficulty. We have been humbled by pain but also by love. What a feeling it is to have a breaking heart also feel so full.
When it feels like life is too much, I don’t have to look far to find happiness. It’s the smile on our children’s faces. It’s their endless desire to love and be loved. It’s those who see past our absence from their lives due to the circumstances we can’t control and choose love us anyway. We feel loved when we finally crouch out of our darkness and into the world and there are people still waiting with open arms.
I have hope when our children display compassion learned through circumstances that ask them to miss out on so many things by no fault of their own. Every time they offer me one of their little hands so they can help me up the stairs or care for me in concern, I have hope. They have compassion learned by trials. They don’t get to do many of the things other kids their age do like play summer T-ball or take swimming lessons. Our abnormal circumstances don’t always allow normality. I make myself sick thinking about what disease takes from everyone in this family. I feel like the little part of their childhood taken away will be the big things when they get older so I hope we offer them other beautiful memories in return. Right now, it’s that quiet time of night when they are asleep and I am awake to think of these things. I think about the smiles on their faces. I think about how much love they have for me regardless of how I feel about myself, or still, how others feel about me. They see me at my worst and still love me and I them. I realize I have much to look forward to tomorrow.
***Look for hope, even of you have to make yourself. Wake up and make the best of the day, even if you require help to do it. This doesn’t mean trying to do things beyond your capabilities, it means trying to smile or laugh, even of you have to spend the day in bed. Love to the fullest of extent, even when you feel like you have nothing left to give. You aren’t guaranteed a long life, you’re not even guaranteed a fair life. Take it from someone who knows how unfair life can be, good things are not promised and someday, the end may seem closer than it has ever felt before. Take time to cry when needed. Don’t expect to feel great about every person or thing that comes into your life. Sometimes you have to work at what’s important and let go of the rest. Most importantly, find what makes today beautiful, I bet it’s closer than you think.***
Today my oldest son was sent home sick from school. I knew it was going to happen. I had seen other moms post photos of their kids next to trash cans or their status updates would warn others to stay away from the plague upon their homes. All I could do was wait for those germs to make their way through the school halls and come through my front door. Today the plague arrived.
Illnesses are treated much differently in our home. We are careful to separate sick children from the well ones and clean thoroughly, but we also try our best to keep them from coming in our home in the first place. With a chronically ill child on a chemotherapy drug and a mom who has an auto-immune disease, every illness has to be treated as if it has the potential to send us to the hospital. My ritual of telling the germs they are not welcome comes via a seasonal social media update, it reads something like this, “With cold and flu season upon us, we ask that you stay away from our family if you have been sick or have been around anyone who has been sick. Please make sure you are completely free of illness before visiting our home.” It’s simple and to the point but there is always more I could add like, “We ask you refrain from our home during flu season. We are more susceptible to getting the flu, but your small flu could send those in this home with chronic illness(s) and/or autoimmune disorders to the hosptial. Your flu could be devistating to our health.” I don’t want to come off as too pessimistic but illnesses pose a higher risk for those who are already chronically ill. I take quite a bit of medication to try to build up whatever immune system I have so I can care for sick kids when the plague does arrive, but it doesn’t always work. I sometimes succumb to illnesses and I need help.
These days asking for help is increasingly hard. I was scrolling through Facebook and someone had posted a quote that read something like this, “My greatest accomplishment in life is knowing I never depended on or was a burden to anyone else…..” I read it, made a face, read it again, and mumbled something under my breath. This quote may indicate that the author is a go-getter, someone who is independent and self-reliant. Those observations could very well be true, but the statement tells the world that there should be some great pride in not being a burden to others; so much so that this quote was paired with a beautiful photo, nice enough to hang on a wall if someone so desired. What I mumbled under my breath was this, “So what if something happened to this author and he had no choice but to rely on someone else? What about those who have no choice but to rely on someone else??…..” What did this “inspirational” quote say about those who need the daily help of others? Reliance = burden?
This quote could very well be an excellent life goal for an independent person but to someone like me who increasingly relies on the help of others, it makes me feel a bit…….worthless. I can no longer proudly proclaim how I care for myself and my family with complete independence. Until my disease is better controlled, I frequently need the assistance of loved ones. I can’t even walk long distances without the assistance of a rollator! (Yes, I am the one behind the pink and sparkly rollator.) So I have felt like my life has been on hold since my diagnoses, but does that mean I’m worthless?
I have spent many evenings cuddling a tissue box because I was crying over my feelings of worthlessness. I can’t escape the fact that I have times when I need extensive help from my husband because my RA is so severe. I still look for “good days” when my pain is minimal and I am able to leave the house or do a little of what I was able to do with ease not that long ago. It’s hard to live in a society of people who value what you can do more than who you are. Sometimes it is hard to find meaning when it’s hard to fulfill a purpose my body physically couldn’t possibly fulfill.
Then one morning after reading our morning devotional, many things came into focus. My faith teaches that we are created to be loved by a God, a God who finds pleasure in our love for Him. That same morning I looked at my special needs son after our reading and said, “Your purpose in life is to love and be loved! And we love you so much!” It was then when my light bulb went off. My purpose and meaning really isn’t measured by what I can do or how I can do it, in fact, it’s not meant to be measurable at all.
My little boy may never be able to fully understand many things in life. He has limited expressive communication skills but that doesn’t mean he can fulfill the purpose we were are created to fill, to be loved. If the only thing my son ever accomplishes in his life is to be loved, it’s a pretty sweet accomplishment. No one knows the course of our lives and those who are the goal oriented, go-getters may someday find themselves relying on others to accomplish those tasks that were simple for them not that long ago. That does not mean those people have lost their worth because of it. No, their value was and will always be the same. They are valued and loved for who they are.
Don’t get me wrong, working hard and accomplishing dreams are great but there are those who are struggling to find value because we live in a society hung up on what we do more than who we are. All the valuables in the world mean nothing to someone with an empty heart. You are meant to be loved. You are loved and made for a purpose, and that purpose isn’t measurable by things of this Earth. We may not all have equal valuables but we are all of equal value. Once I realized this, I have spent less time cozy-ing up to the box of tissues. I realized that my life can be spent in love and service to others and to a God who delights in my life.
When is the last time you picked up a work out routine and stuck with it? This doesn’t mean jumping on the treadmill for five minutes once a month or purchasing a YMCA pass after the first of the year, I mean starting a workout routine and sticking with it. I have and it’s been hard, especially with small children but I can’t let them or any other excuse stop me.
So it’s a good thing that my husband and I own quite a bit of exercise equipment. I had ample space to use them when we lived in our last house because we had a nice sized unfinished basement. I couldn’t make the “I’m too scared of the creepy basement” excuse because we painted the block walls and furnished it. I had my own space and my own time to work out and I enjoyed it. I missed a day here or there but I had successfully kept up with my routine. Besides having alone time, my next biggest motivator was money. I was involved in a biggest looser contest a few times while I worked at my last job. We fairly judged the winner on the person who lost the most mass body index versus weight as we were all various sizes, shapes, heights, and weights. I never won but I felt a definate improvement in my health and well being. Despite the obvious realization that working out had made me feel better, I eventually went back to my old ways and working out was no longer on my agenda.
Old habits, or lack thereof, are hard to break, even when they are habits that improve life. If a hundred people were asked to follow a guideline to have a happy life, a guide that guaranteed happiness, I wouldn’t be surprised if more than half of those people stopped living by the guide. Moreover, I wouldn’t be surprised if the majority of those same people would then complain about any unhappiness they would then experience. I am going to be very honest, I’d be the complaining quitter. I know because I am already one. I was given a guide to a happy life and quit long before I ever gave it a chance to change my life.
When I committed to my Christian faith and was given my very own guide to life. Like many people, my Bible rests on my nightstand. I guess I think if I sleep close to it, I’ll absorb all the knowledge I need. It’s like buying a gym pass and expecting to lose weight by the mere possession of it. Staying fit in any capacity requires effort. I was putting zero work into my life and wanted to claim I was physically and spirituality fit. I was nothing more than a fraud. In many ways, I still am. By giving into my old habits and choosing inactivity, I am settling for the mere fscaud of good spiritual and physical health. Why do I settle when I can have the real thing? It takes work.
I wanted the illusion of fitness because it requires none of the work it takes to be fit. This was especially true for my physical workouts. I was already so tired before even starting my workout that I felt too tired to try. My husband told me I had to push through the fatigue and it would get better. I would grin sheepishly because I knew he was right but I also knew my body was sadly too accustomed to the lack of activity. I knew working out would eventually give me more energy, it was just too hard to get myself psyched up enough to try again. I had a hard time giving up my motto, “Plenty of rest will make me feel plenty rested.” It was a misconception based on my lack of knowledge. Plenty of rest just made me lazy. Again, the same went for my spiritual journey. I got lazy. A lot of my distress came from my lack of biblical knowledge and principles. Yes, once a week I’m the one at the edge of my seat listening to a sermon, but I wasn’t opening my bible at home. Once a week wasn’t enough! Just like my physical fitness, I was stagnant by my own lack of knowledge and I was unwilling to change.
There was one thing kept me from being physically or spiritually fit, one hour. Yes, just an hour. I was not willing to put a mere hour to strengthen myself physically and I was only willing to put in more than one hour a week spiritually. Physically, an hour a day would be enough to improve my physical well being. Here is a quote from an online article found here: http://www.fitnessmagazine.com/workout/tips/power-surge-the-hidden-benefits-of-exercise/ about the benefits of exercise within the first hour, “Within One Hour of Exercise… You’re protecting yourself against colds, flu, you name it. Exercise elevates your level of immunoglobulins, which are proteins that help bolster your immune system and ward off infection……..”
“You’re feeling zen. Mood-enhancing chemicals, like serotonin, dopamine, and norepinephrine, flood your brain for a couple of hours post-exercise and for up to a day if you’ve competed in an endurance event, like a marathon. Stress? What stress?”
Wow! One hour of exercise, even within the first hour, has great benefits! Why is it so hard to find that one hour a day if the benefits are so great? Physically and spiritually, one hour a week won’t do. It isn’t enough!
There are those times when fitness becomes a priority with ample motivation. Money was definately mine! Joining the dating pool also seems like one of the best motivaters besides a doctor’s suggestion to do so due to failing health. When someone is searching for a mate, keeping themselves physically fit and well groomed is a good way to increase the chances of getting noticed by a potential mate. When finding “the one” becomes a priority, so might other things like exercise. It’s serious business that requires some serious effort. Someone once told me, “Most people are on their best behavior while they are dating. If the person you are dating isn’t on their best behavior now, it won’t get better after marriage.” It makes sense right? A lot of people put their best foot forward when they are seeking a spouse. If they believe they found “the one” a few things have to go into the relationship to ensure they can then make it to the alter. One of the biggest and most important components needed in a relationship is time. How many couples marry immediately after the first date? Not many! Time is needed nourish the relationship. Time is also needed so the couple can be assured of their compatibility. If no time is spent on either of these, it would be a nothing but a relationship between two strangers.
The only way to turn a stranger into a friend is to spend time with that person.
We need to nurture our relationship with God just as much as our most intimate relationships. We need to act as if we are dating the Lord. We need talk to the Lord, spend time asking questions and telling him about ourselves. We need to continually build trust that is made through our relationship with him. Like any other relationship, the more we know about someone, the more we can trust them. Most people would like a relationship where they can say they can trust their spouse with their life. The same should be true with our relationship with God, but most of us choose not to trust him with our lives. We worry and fret, displaying no trust relationship with our creator. I once heard that we should never worry about the outcome of our troubles because no matter what happens, we win when we trust in the Lord. If we live, we win another day to bring glory to the Lord and if we die, we win because we are finally reunited with Him in death.
Imagine a relationship with the Lord that puts you at peace with any circumstance in life. It doesn’t mean we won’t cry, hurt or feel pain, it means that we can always have the peace that comes from being in an intimate relationship with our Lord. A couple weeks ago I had a worrisome thoughts concerning my son’s upcoming neurosurgery. I couldn’t sleep and my worrying got so bad, I woke my husband from his sleep. I asked him if he thought we were making the right decision. He woke, assured me that he thought we had made the right choice and fell back to sleep. He was so confident that he didn’t stay awake to worry with me. With no one to share in my fear, I decided to simply hold his hand. In this closeness with the person I trusted the most, I calmed down.
This is what God wants to do for us. He wants a loving and trusting relationship that eases our fears and worries by our mere closeness to him. The only way we will get there is to spend more than one hour a week with him. One hour can truly change our lives in so many ways. One hour can transform our physical and spiritual being but it takes effort. What will you give up to get there? Will that couple hours of television a night bring you the peace and comfort God can bring you if you just spare him a few minutes of your time? Will time not spent on something meaningful be a regret you confess on your deathbed? One hour………. think about it……
I can’t even say this without thinking about Cartman on South Park, but I’m big-boned. Always have been. But, I’m also FAT. And maybe that’s not the PC term but I’ve never been accused of being terribly PC. Luckily, I’m also tall so up until about the last 5 years, I’ve “worn it well.” As if someone wears their extra weight like an awesome outfit.
Like about 99% of women, I’ve thought of myself as fat since I was a teenager, even though I definitely wasn’t. Just, as I said, big-boned. Looking back, I’d like to grab 15-year-old me and shake the misconceptions out of my head. Because NOW, now I’m actually over-weight. And with the way I’ve been going, in a few years, I’d be looking back at NOW and thinking I was skinny, just like I look at being 15, now—if that makes any sense.
And it’s not 100% about the way I look, like it was as a teen. It’s about my health and the fact that I get winded bending over to tie my shoes. That I have high blood pressure—and I’m 34. That if I’m not careful about what I eat, I can have pretty terrible sugar lows an hour or two after meals. That I have IBS, which stems mostly from my nerves, but is exacerbated by my terrible diet. It wasn’t always like this. But you can only abuse your body so much before it fights back. And that’s not something you want. So, put the donut down. Yes, you.
I meant to start exercising at the New Year like everyone else. That got derailed quickly as it always feels like there’s some family upset or mental breakdown keeping me from getting anything done. And I won’t go into any of that here…
But, in February I started back to doing some aerobic and toning DVD’s I’d done for about 6 months back in 2008. Six months is a huge deal since I’ve never stuck with any exercise regimen in my life. So, I’ve been at it for about three weeks now and not every day. I feel like if I shove myself too hard, too fast, I’ll get burnt out. But I’m easing myself back into it. In ’08, I was actually in pretty good shape. I didn’t realize it, of course. It wasn’t until I started to work-out this year that I realized just how far I’d let myself slide down the fat slope.
I’d considered taking pictures and documenting my progress on here as a way to make myself accountable. If I know other people are reading about my fat-capades, I’m more likely to keep trying. But, I said it’s not 100% about how I look. That doesn’t mean it’s not at all. I’d say it’s something like 60-40, with my health being my major concern. Don’t get me wrong, I think we’re all beautiful and as long as your weight doesn’t keep you from doing the things you love, or make you sick, then rock on! Unfortunately, I know that most of the world doesn’t feel that way and the internet is a lot like the locker room in high school. I’m not sure I wanna hear anything terrible about how I look, you know, since I might not be able to change it. Why subject myself to hate-speech when I give enough of that to myself? Perhaps I’ll wait and see if I can actually get anywhere and post my journey later. And I mean, I HAVE to get somewhere. Right? I’m pretty sure my quality and quantity of life depends on it.