Tomorrow is my birthday. Tuesday, that is. I know it's technically Monday right now where I'm at, but I've been awake for a few hours after another few hours sleeping, only a short nap, so it still feels like Sunday to me. Ah, who am I kidding? The days don't "feel" like anything to me anymore. I don't have a regular enough sleep/wake cycle for that. It's all one long day, punctuated by naps long or short.

On Tuesday I turn 28. I can't help but take stock, think about the passage of time and how much I may or may not have left. When I was in high school (during one of my several sophomore/junior years) I attended a prayer breakfast where the keynote speaker was the father of Rachel Joy Scott, the first student to die in the Columbine shootings. His story of Rachel's life touched me deeply, and it also lit a fire inside me that I've never really been able to explain. You see, she had this purpose and direction to her life that makes me ache for something similar, and even though she died quite young, she still left an indelible mark on the world around her with her kindness, her inclusiveness, and her determination to make the little universe she inhabited a better place. The best part is that she did. She knew somehow that she was going to die young, that year that she was shot. She wrote in her journal some time previous that "this is my last year on earth, I have learned what I can" or something to that effect. (I'm going off of a ten year old memory, so it's not exact.) And now that I'm facing the accomplishment of year number 28, it astonishes me because I always felt that I was going to die young, too. I never really expected to reach thirty. I suppose it's because I've spent so much of my life focused on immediate survival, which was the only way to make it through the trauma of the first decade and a half, but the dreams of the future always seemed unreal and hazy, not concrete at all.

When I look back, though, I am very happy with what I've accomplished, particularly knowing now that I was fighting against Ehlers-Danlos the whole time, and some of the other stuff like adrenal fatigue and food allergies as I got into my teens. I've had some grand adventures in my time. I feel particularly fond of my Idaho adventures. They were the ones most closely aligned with my most closely held daydreams of adult life. Have I ever mentioned that one of my most passionate wishes as a girl was to grow up and join an Amish community? The rustic, living off of the land "survival" lifestyle holds a deep, deep appeal for me, and living on the premises of Summer Hill Farm away up in the mountains was a dream come true in a lot of ways. I only wish that I could have stayed longer, or gone up there sooner. The timing worked out, though, to be for the best. I could not live up to the rigors of country life in my current state of disability, so it's best that I moved back to a soft city life before it got too bad! ;-)

I do feel a sorrow, though, for the life that I will not get to live. Chronic illness and intractable pain have changed my life irrevocably, and there is a deep sadness that comes with that certainty. Granted, I'm the most comfortable that I've been in years, now that I have the proper balance and dosage of pain medications, but the thought of years and years of this is… daunting. To say the least. I feel like I'm constantly dancing on the edge of a chasm, and if just one little thing goes wrong anywhere in the chain of events, I will topple over the edge and be broken on the jagged rocks below. If something happens to  the manufacturing or delivery of the pain medication, I'm doomed. If the pharmacy has troubles with stocking (like they have the past 6 months), I have nowhere to turn. I tried getting my meds filled at a different pharmacy, but they all turned me away because my needs were too great. If I can't get the hundreds of dollars necessary each month to buy the meds… I'm toast. So it's not just the thought of the huge drifts of pain that will accumulate through the years, but the stress of not knowing, each and every month, until I'm rolling out the pharmacy door with meds in hand, that seems the most unbearable. It's a really doomy, gloomy thought, so I try to not think about it much. Sorrow? Check. Stress? Double check. Moving on.

I read a really interesting sci-fi book a few days ago called "Factoring Humanity" by Robert J. Sawyer. I don't wanna give away spoilers, but one of the premises of the book is that humanity isn't a bunch of individuals on a spinning rock, totally unconnected from each other, neither is the information gathered over a lifetime lost when an individual dies. Rather, humanity is all connected to one another through what the book terms the "over mind", a collection of the consciousness and information of every human mind that has ever existed. The information isn't lost at death, but rather "uploaded" and saved, like backing up your computer data, and the book goes over the story of how the over mind is realized and explored by a few humans at first, using the information sent to Earth by intelligent life on Alpha Centauri over a period of ten years via radio signals. I know it's just a fictional book, but it really does give me a framework for understanding the world around me that really appeals to me and just makes a lot of sense in some ways. It's given me much to think about, in any event.

That brings me back to the idea of "making a mark" on the world around me, though. Discount the idea of the over mind and just focus in on the thought that when a person dies a shadow of them lives on in a way through the memories of the people they interacted with. I would really like to be able to say that my interactions with the people around me left them happy and better able to cope with the harsh realities of life, you know? Because life is hard. Really hard. Anyone who says differently is selling something. Hehehehe. (Princess Bride reference, in case you didn't catch that.) We all know at least one person who is definitely not a delight to be around, and who seems to just make everything a bit harder to bear; someone who sucks the energy and life from those around them and either doesn't know or doesn't care. I don't want to be that person. Even if I have excuses that seem valid, I do NOT want to be that person. My young life was ruled by a tyrant of that sort, and I know how miserable it can be under their thumb. I absolutely refuse to do that to anyone else if I can help it. I think I've done a pretty decent job of avoiding that pitfall, even with my new neediness that came with the nosedive of my health. Perhaps my "mark" is simply that I made some people happy some of the time, made their lives a bit easier, even? I mean, in a first world world, what else is there?

So I'm turning 28. My husband will be 30 next month. I remember the days when 30 seemed so old! My girlfriend is even older than my husband, if you can believe that. Age never really mattered much to me as much as personal maturity, although I do tend to have a thing for older men. Daddy issues, most likely. I'll own that. lol. So I guess that's it. Just some musings on my life and what I hope I'm doing with it. At this point I don't feel like there's much I can achieve anymore beyond interpersonal goals. I'm just too damn tired. Somehow, I have to make peace with my multitude of dreams and my achy, sleepy reality. I have been doing "better" the past couple months, though. I'm starting to feel like myself again, really and truly. An altered version, no doubt, but no one stays a static version of themselves forever anyway. I'd be altered no matter what.

I've started going for walks again, though, and I get out of the house twice a week regularly, once for grocery run with Corey and once for coffee date with Saka. I've even stopped throwing up all the time, thanks to a lovely med they give chemo patients! I have to take it consistently, though, or else the nausea sneaks up on me really fast and I find myself on the couch clutching my vomit bowl within a span of ten minutes from feeling fine. Gotta keep it in my system. I can't help but laugh sometimes at how different my every day life is from what I'd ever imagined it being!
No artsy cafes or guitar in the park, no challenging classes out at the college with a yoga session afterwards.
No five mile walks in the muggy warmth of a summer's night.
No swell of a pregnant belly.
No certificates of continuing education, no job, no paycheck.
No numbers in my savings account.
No trip to Europe, touring art and culture and food.

There are losses, to be sure. I gotta quit that or I'll start crying. But hey, everyone has losses, and everyone has gains, too. I know I'm better off than I was a year ago, and for that I'm very thankful. Here's to another year of, um… tea and Netflix! Yeah! And a circle of good people who love me very much. That's always a good one.

You know what they say: A silent blog is a sign of a busy life! Well, that's sorta true in this case. What happened is that I was pounced upon by a very nasty flare, one that lasted somewhere around a week, give or take a couple of days. In the midst of that I've had doctor's appointments, medical tax stuff to hunt down and appropriate and relocate to our tax lady, a trip to Tucson for to see a cardiologist, a Celebirthsary/going away party dinner, and my second wedding anniversary. Even with all of that, I'm still pulling out of the flare, so thank goodness for that! In all honesty, I was worried that it wasn't just a flare, but rather my new mode of existence. That would have been horrible, because I was in such terrible pain that the painkillers would do nothing but blunt the edge of it a little bit, enough to keep me from going crazy and screaming while I hobble down the streets of downtown naked and slicked up with mayonnaise, which I'm allergic to.

Clearly, that didn't happen, or else the government is really good about redacting highly amusing incidents. I would say that I would remember if that happened, but that's not actually the case. Something else I've been up to in this interim (and before, if I'm being honest) is that I've been having some major troubles with sleep and sleepwalking. First the waves of overwhelming fatigue so I'm sleeping 18+ hours a day and exhausted down to the pores of my bones (y'all know what I'm talking about!), and then BAM! Insomnia. Sort of. For a day or two. But now I'm being hit with really bad sleepwalking, something akin to narcolepsy that pulls me into these dream trances when I'm tired, but when I am deep enough into the standing-sleep I go limp and collapse, usually forward, which jolts me out of sleep and usually I can catch myself on whatever counter or corner is nearby. Not always-- I hit my face on the metal shelving of the pantry last week, and my head on the bathroom mirror.

I also do scary stuff, like get into my pain medication thinking it's Benadryl or something else. I recently woke up with six 100 mg morphines in my hand, thinking in the dream that it was Benadryl I needed to take, but thankfully I was lucid enough upon snapping awake that I realized what was going on and put them back. I get food out and leave it.  I open windows and surf Facebook and all kinds of shit, and it TERRIFIES me. What if I buy stuff without waking up or remembering? I don't have any spending money! That could be bad.and screaming while I hobble down the streets of downtown naked and slicked up with mayonnaise, which I'm allergic to.

In a "dream sequence" that I vaguely remembered upon waking, I had--for some very legitimate reason, I swear--gone into the kitchen, pulled out my husband's new package of bratwurst, opened up the plastic covering, then left the whole thing sitting on the cutting board. If Corey hadn't checked the kitchen before going to bed they would have been out all night and spoiled! (He woke me when he came to bed with a forceful yet bewildered, "What's wrong with you, woman?!?") Two days ago I found a strawberry in the pot and pan cupboard. Fortunately, it had only been there for a day or less. I'm not sure when it got there, or why, but it was there all right… and it was delicious! :)

 So there you have it.What might I possibly do to myself during these… "episodes"? I'm scared to sleep, but the more I stay up and try not to, the worse it gets. I called my neurologists office, and when I explained the situation to his assistant A, she was freaked out and said that she'd talk to the doctor immediately, when he was done with what had him busy at that time. So she sent him a note, and now I've got a referral to some place here in town to do a sleep study. They want to see if I have narcolepsy, because these symptoms are awfully similar. In a perverse way, I was glad to hear the concern in A's voice and to see how seriously she took my phone call.  Corey has been annoyed by it, sometimes even amused, but he doesn't seem to think it's that much of a big deal. I had been minimizing it as not so bad, but I knew, I knew, that it is not something to ignore. It's a scary thing, and I could get seriously hurt one of these days. A recognized this a well, and obviously my doctor did too, because the call from A informing me about the referral came only 2 or 3 days after my initial phone call. For those of you who might be professional patients, you know that this time frame is practically unheard of when dealing with the medical system! The cogs move ever so slowly, but this was rapid fire. I'm grateful. The symptoms of this sleep-problem, however, wax and wane, so I'm really anxious about the test, hoping that I'll be malfunctioning during the test so they can see exactly what's going wrong instead of sending me home with a clean bill of health, as so often happens. (On paper, I'm really quite healthy! Oh EDS, you so stealthy!)

The extra-exhausting fatigue appears to be returning, as I slept the entire afternoon and evening away, after being awake for only 2, maybe 3 hours this afternoon. I've been up since 12:30 a.m., and Corey and I took a walk together, which was so nice! Work tires him out so much that he is in no mood to walk anymore, mostly because he's been on his feet and moving around all day. I don't blame him a bit. His feet hurt when he gets home, and I totally understand that. But we walked tonight, and it was very nice. So anyway, back to the fatigue. Yes, it's here, at least for today, but I doubt that it'll confine itself to only one day. I've been tired down to my bones for a long time, and now I just feel… heavy. Maybe the cycle of fatigue and sleepwalking is starting over again, and I just gotta hope that the timing is right for that sleep study to see what they need to see.

Other than this weird medical stuff going on, I'm doing okay mentally and emotionally. I am honestly excited for the challenge of growing up and into myself while so many diseases attempt to thwart my efforts. I mean, when I was relatively "healthy" (been sickly all of my life, and now that I know about the EDS a lot of my childhood makes so much sense to me now), it was pretty easy to express myself in my outward appearance and my activities. Now both of those have been compromised, and I must find new avenues with which to not only express my true self, but to have fun in life and to help other people who are hurting very badly. I tend to think of hurting people metaphorically, but maybe I'm supposed to help the literally hurting as well. I've gotten much encouragement on that subject. We shall see. Life will unfold at its own pace, and not before. I know it sounds all trite and cliched, but it really is all about taking life one day at a time. How can I know that I'll be alive in 3 months? There is no way. And if I try to think about the future and what I can or feel that I need to accomplish, or if I think a certain way about the past, it is then that I feel hideous and lazy and basically an awful specimen of humanity. I can't let myself think like that or send those messages to my psyche. It's twisted and tormented enough from all of the abuse I endured until I was old enough to move on by myself, and I don't need to make myself hurt even more. I would never say the terrible things that I think to a loved one, or even to a random stranger on the street (though I have a few nemeses that I totally would heap the verbal abuse on! *grin* The point is, if I can't say those things to other people, where do I get off abusing and harassing myself like that?

I practiced that "in the moment" stuff today. Day two of strictly couch time (though I did do dishes last night), and the temptation to lay into myself was strong. There was so much I could be doing, I have this many things on my checklist, god I'm lazy, I'm being a wuss so I need to suck it up and go achieve something, I'm not really that sick, etc. etc. So basically I made the decision to say "fuck that noise", and I continued watching my movies and taking my nap that turned into an 8 hour sleep. The urge to hate myself for not just pushing through feeling crappy is so strong, especially because it's not some cold or flu that I can nurse for a while and then return to the world perfectly refreshed, restored, and ready to rumble. Nope-- this'll be here for the rest of my life. So why coddle myself? And yet… there are times when I do push through and get stuff done, but it's because I WANT to, not because I've guilted or hated myself into it. Hating myself into doing something will generally lead to resentment, and that's just the first step onto the merry-go-round of Hell. 

What I've discovered is that, basically… I'm a grown adult and can do what I want! Whether that's spending the day on the couch with movies and tea and my cats or doing laundry and sweeping the house before answering mail, it all comes back to doing it of my free will and not letting myself lose my boundaries or letting them be breached--breached by my own self. How weird is that?! I'll tell ya, it's hard to find the balance that you need to be happy and productive while still being "lazy" because you need to be. And trying to find that balance is exactly the sort of thing that has led to a silent blog. Well, that and fingers too stiff and painful to type. That's a sticking point for sure.

Oh, quick side note: I have a mental health evaluation for disability on the 10th of this month, so I'm kinda nervous but mostly happy. This means that they didn't just reject me out of hand! Yippee! But I've also heard horror stories about how these things go, with obviously and legitimately disabled people being turned away without receiving the help they need. Most everyone has told me to lie, embellish how sick I am, because otherwise I won't get disability. I shudder to think that the system is so far gone that this is standard advice from experienced people. When I say that I won't and don't lie, they backpedal to "Well, just exaggerate then". That… isn't as repulsive, but I still don't feel comfortable doing it. I say that if I am exactly myself and they turn me away, then I will just appeal again and again and again until they are sick of me and give me the money to get me to go away ;) (Shawshank Redemption. Who says movies don't teach you anything?) I have strong speaking skills, and I know that I can be very descriptive and good with words when trying to communicate a point, so I'm counting on that to tip the balance in my favor. I'm told that I'm quite charismatic. Here's hoping it works! The inspector is a woman, and I have this mental image of an older blonde woman in a navy skirt suit, thin, wrinkled face, no trace of humor anywhere, lips pursed, very observant (hawk gaze) and totally crisp and pointed in conversation. I imagine her to be very intimidating. I wonder if my imagination will prove true? I'll have to let you know, of course :)

I'll admit it-- sometimes I get really angry at how "easy" other people have it in their lives. I mean, yeah, okay, everyone has their stress and troubles and hard times but some people just seem to have a charmed life, you know? Yes, my incredibly troubled and grueling life is definitely the source of some good points, such as the personal strength, insight, and empathy that I have honed, but sometimes it'd be nice to just have it kinda easy for a while you know? And it hasn't been. My whole life, without exaggeration, has been one fight or another for sustenance, sanity, survival… what's up with that?

And then, just when everything was finally going my way… my health tanks. I was so happy. I was in school, pursuing my dream career, I was planning my wedding, working hard for a cause that I loved with a boss that adored me, I'd paid off my school debt, made huge headway in counseling… I had it made, man. I was good. Things were looking up. But then, then, everything fell apart around me and life is harder than it's ever been. Maybe. Life was really hard during the decade plus of abuse too, though. It's hard to say.

It's just not fair, man. And it pisses me off.

However…

There is good news. I have finally found a doctor that is both willing and able to help me with my pain! I'm diagnosed with "intractable pain" which, according to Wikipedia, is "a severe, constant pain that is not curable by any known means and which causes a bed or house-bound state and early death if not adequately treated, usually with opioids and/or interventional procedures. It is not relieved by ordinary medical, surgical, nursing, or pharmaceutical measures. Unlike the more common chronic pain, it causes adverse biologic affects on the body's cardiovascular, hormone, and neurologic systems." (emphasis mine) Doctors kept getting hung up on "fibromyalgia" and "chronic pain", missing the bigger picture of my pain, but this doctor gets it, and he wants to help me very much. I could cry. It was seriously everything that I had hoped for.

This is the dr's website, Dr. Porcelli. I have to drive 4 hours to get there, but to get my life back? SO worth it.

I was incredibly nervous, because I was afraid that I was just going to get shut down again and I have nowhere else to turn for help but the emergency room, and that is horrendously expensive. (Seriously… I have no idea how I'm going to pay all of the ER bills. *sigh*) He was very cheerful, funny, and engaging right from the get-go, though, and we chatted and joked back and forth the whole time. He looked at my chart and symptom list and was immediately like, "Yes, you definitely suffer from intractable pain! You've got one foot in the grave, huh? Just one banana peel away from packing it in!" (I thought that was funny. This was after he saw the "draw these shapes on this outline of a body to describe what kind of pain you have and where" chart that I filled out. It was pretty well covered in scribbles.) He thinks that with proper pain management I can actually go back to work part time in the future! Also, after a physical examination he discovered that my eyes have been damaged some from the pain, but they will heal when my body calms down.

The plan is to do a long acting opioid with a lower dose one for breakthrough pain. The ones he gave me this month aren't working very well and I'm still spending about 5 or 6 hours a day soaking in the tub, but we can address that at my next appointment. I'm working on getting physical therapy started, trying to do regular massages, and I'm also starting a few supplements (vitamin C, sublingual b12, omega 3 fatty acid, etc.) to boost my general health. I really want to start eating healthier again now that I'm more capable, but really, I'm basically just happy to have meds at all and to know that things are only going to get better from here! I mean, today my friend the Artist came over and helped me clean the house, and I was able to do quite a bit! The house is so tidy now. Ahhhh… we got to things that I've been wanting done for months, or at the very least since I got out of the hospital. It feels good to see my home in order again.

Also, I applied for disability this past Monday, and it was actually a really fun experience thanks to the lady who did my interview. I should get word in about 3 to 6 months, and she says that it's about a 50-50 chance as to whether I'm approved or denied. We'll see. I'm definitely going to appeal if I'm denied, no worries about that.

Oh, and I'm going to make an appointment with a geneticist this next week. Still pursuing further diagnosis, especially since Dr. Porcelli agreed adamantly that while fibro is part of my problem, it is definitely not the entire issue that is causing me to be so sick and in so much pain. So… we shall see. I've got my money on hEDS (Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, hypermobility type). I fit the criteria so, so, so well, and a large majority of EDSers are either misdiagnosed or not diagnosed at all. The most common misdiagnosis is fibromyalgia, from what I understand.

I'm learning to live with this broken body, even as I try to figure out in what ways exactly it's broken, but it's not easy. I'm pretty resentful at times, especially when I can't get the help or answers I need or when I see my peers traipsing around and fulfilling dreams and stuff that I wanted to do and cannot join in on and will possibly never recover enough to achieve.

Like pregnancy. Due to the nature of my pain, I will probably be on strong pain medication for the rest of my life. That's just a fact of my life. (Ugh, my poor organs…) The implications of that, however, mean that I would have to stop my pain meds (and a couple others) in order to carry a baby, and that's not something that is feasible for me at all. Remember how I ended up in the hospital and ER a ton last month? Yeah. Just like that. And do you think that the stress of being so sick and in so much pain would be good for a developing fetus at all? Not a chance. Either way, my baby is at a distinct disadvantage while residing in my womb.

I'm never going to be able to carry a baby of my own, and that grieves me something awful.

People don't understand. I've shared with a couple of friends, and with Drogo, but the response I get is "Don't worry, you can adopt! There are other options. Have you thought of surrogacy?"

You guys. That's not the point, not the point at ALL! I know I can adopt or do a surrogate pregnancy. Creating offspring is not the issue here, the issue is that I am never going to be able to carry a baby or give birth, and that's something I've wanted for a long, long time. It's just another precious dream ripped callously from my heart and tossed carelessly on the midden. I don't care if I can adopt; I care that the vaunted experience of childbearing, one that I've already had bitter experiences with, is now beyond my grasp, through no fault of my own, and there's nothing I can do about it.

But folks don't seem to catch that, even after I explain, so… I just let it go. Whatever. Who cares if Cassie's world and future is shrinking and dulling, hope and happiness sloughing off like dried up scabs?

This may or may not be coherent. Fortunately, I only write for myself, so I know I'll understand me. That's a relief.

I want to preface this with the acknowledgment that I am a warrior, and a damn good one. I fight battles that many people will never, ever have to face in their life. I stare down intense chronic pain on a daily basis, and I win. Every day. I know I'm a fighter, and I know that I'm loved and cherished beyond belief. I also know that it's all going to be okay.

That being said, I will now proceed to lay bare my fears, vulnerabilities, and anger.

I spent a good portion of my evening and night in the emergency room last night. On Sunday, I spent an hour in the heat and that set off a migraine that was still super severe 24 hours later, and I couldn't get it under control with my pain meds I had at home. On top of that, I was having full body pain and fever and the damn twitchies were back, which exacerbated the pain. I could not handle it any longer, so I went in for help with the migraine and for pain control. (I was afraid of overdosing on acetaminophen with the current route that I was on.) I ended up sitting, waiting for a bed, for hours... twitching the whole while. It was kinda funny. What wasn't funny is that for the last hour or two I was in tears from the pain, weeping openly at a couple of points... but there was nothing they could do to help me until a bed opened up. Once they got me in, I saw a doctor and was injected with pain meds within the hour. I also got a referral to a neurologist, which is in the works.

The thing is, as relieved as I am to have gotten some help, it comes entangled with a whole host of other problems. Money problems. Health problems. Family problems. The implications of all of those.

I'm stressed, y'all.

1. Money- basic living expenses
2. Money- J's wedding
3. Money- medical bills
3a. Money/Health- prescription costs
4. Health- sickness, current and progressive
4a. Health- new symptoms
5. Health- diagnoses, current and possible
6. Health- pain control
7. Disability- to file or not?
8. Food stamps- do I qualify now?
9. Family- Mom and R divorcing

Can you tell I'm worried about money? lol. We're literally barely making ends meet. Stuff keeps breaking, like C's truck (or his battery), and we were already strapped because of the house and moving and all. Then we got the news that Mom and R are divorcing, and while I'm supportive of the decision, it means that my going on C's insurance a year earlier than planned is going to take $300 a month out of his paycheck. Oy. Not to mention that I have to get on his phone plan and his car insurance as well... Plus the added bills that living in an actual home means... C had it planned out well, but life happens, you know? Excrement transpires.

It's not that I'm worried, because I know we'll be okay, and worrying doesn't put money in your pocket, but it's just that... I guess I feel really badly because I'm the cause of a lot of these hikes in expenditures. I know that my medical bills are high. I know that it costs a lot to feed me. I know all this. I can't change it, but I know it... and it's awful. We've both cut out any unnecessary expenditures in our lives, but we're still just... barely making it. I've been trying to think of other things I can do to cut down expenses, like maybe buying less food, but I only get the basics, so... it's just expensive, not being able to buy the boxed and canned stuff. I feel helpless to make any meaningful, positive change to our situation.

And here's the kicker-- I wouldn't worry about it so much if we weren't also trying to save up several hundred dollars to make it up north in a month. I thought we could do it. I really did. And we could, if shit would stop breaking down! All of the several hundred that we'd allotted for the trip has gone to fix C's truck... the very thing that we need to have running to make the trip. Go figure. I'm tormented about this. I want to make the trip so bad, and I promised J that we would, even if we have to put it on my credit card, but I'm not sure I even have enough on my credit limit for that. Since R and Mom split, C has had to take over sole financial responsibility for my med bills. R gave me one last $80, but I've already had to put several prescriptions and copays on my credit card. I feel like I'm up a creek without a paddle here, and headed for a waterfall.

A lot of my torment is my promise to J (why, oh why did I make a promise?!), but I also really, really want to go back home again, if just for a visit. It won't be the same without D, of course, but I miss it so very badly... and I want to show C off. I want to show off the place to C, and C to everyone up there! lol.

I'm also still struggling with a loss of identity in several ways. Having this bad flare/migraine brought on by the heat shows me that I am, indeed, very heat sensitive now and can't afford to be out in it for long. That means that my dream of hiking the Grand Canyon rim to rim, or at least to the bottom and back up, may very well be beyond the realm of possibility.

Damnit! Can't I have just one dream that doesn't get snatched away by my stupid health problems?! I don't even know if I can have kids, I can't hike anymore, I can't hold a job, I can barely drive myself around right now, I can't keep a spotless house... what is there left for me to do? I still sing, but you can only sing to yourself for so long before you go crazy. I write, clearly. I read, when I can. (Funny-- I took a book with me to the ER to pass the time, but then found I couldn't read because of the migraine! Hah.)

It's not that I don't love my life, because I do. I love my husband, and I am blown away by his commitment to take care of me. It flabbergasts me. I just hate the position that I put him in, having to work 7 days in a row because of the overtime he's taking to try to make it all work... and I feel like I can't contribute a thing.

That's not true. I'm going to work tomorrow, no matter how terrible I feel, because I need the money to buy groceries. C can't afford food until he gets paid. I think he had $7 when we last looked at it a few days ago. I'm glad that I have a boss that is understanding, because she also kicks ass with an autoimmune condition and intense chronic pain. We are quite the team, us two cripples. LOL.

I've taken enough pain killers to put down a small mammal, and I'm still at the place where I'd like to take more, because it's enough to make me squirm. I'm used to dealing with a lot of pain, but this is... ridiculous. At least I don't have the migraine as well. Just a shadow of a headache.

So I am grateful. But there are a lot of battles for me to fight, and I'm tired right alongside my grateful. I'd like to catch a financial break. I'd like to go to Id. I'd like to be cured. (I think.) I'd like it if my hobbies and dreams didn't keep getting crushed. I'd like a pain killer that actually does what it's supposed to do. I'd like cookies. I'd like a puppy to snuggle with. And while we're at it? I'd like temperate weather that I can enjoy without dying one way or another.

You know what would be nice? I mean, besides living in Id again... (although this daydream takes place in Id...)

On a day like today, when I'm feeling fully blerghity blergh crappy, but not in enough actual pain to require the blessed release of (effective) painkillers (yet), to have someone show up on my doorstep and be like, "I'm here to take care of you today."

They'd do my dishes, make me something light, tasty, and nourishing to eat, and they'd ply me with herbal teas sweetened exactly to my liking. Oh, and make sure that my meds were taken at the right time.

Then, after we'd both been properly nourished, they'd bundle me up all comfortably into their vehicle (because it's a lovely spring day in Id in my mind, remember) and they'd take me for a scenic drive with the windows down and maybe some pretty solo piano music playing in the background. No pressure for conversation, though we'd be chatting and laughing, I'm sure. Since we're in Id, we'll stop and pick some blackberries or thimbleberries, or splash around in the icy river briefly, just breathing in the sweet, crisp nectar of the golden air and enjoying the rush and hum of verdant life.

After a quick stop to grab some sushi to go, we'd head to a park and take a nap under the cool shady trees, maybe feeding a squirrel or two... (And did I mention that there was Az green tea involved in this whole adventure? And that I don't have to go to the bathroom ONCE in this daydream? Now I know it's a fantasy! LOL)

By now, I'm thoroughly exhausted I'm sure, so we head back to my house for an evening of popcorn, movies, and more herbal tea. I'm swaddled comfily on the couch in blankets and propped up by pillows, and I'm dozing on and off at will with nary a problem or concern about "entertaining" my friend.

In reality, though, that's not gonna happen. I'm not back in Id, no matter how much I wish I were. (The things we do and leave behind for love, I swear...)

If I were to craft a more realistic daydream, it would be this:

Friend shows up and says "I'm here to take care of you. I'm going to make you chicken noodle soup and grilled bell peppers, and I'm going to unpack your boxes and do your dishes and mop your floor and you're going to sit on the couch all swaddled (or unswaddled, as the temperature variances of your body dictate) and you're going to keep me verbal company and that's it. And if you need to, you'll nap while I do all those things. And then I'm going to magically produce a pizza that you can eat, and we're going to watch funny, inane, probably chick flick movies together. And you're going to drink herbal tea and take a nice hot soak in the tub and then when you are done I'm going to massage your feet with soothing essential oils and paint your toenails."

Hell. Yes.

Too bad none of that is realistic in the slightest. But, hey... that's why they call them "dreams", right? :)

Okay, so funny thing about how plans work out... they sometimes don't.

I went to bed all early and stuff... but I can't stay asleep. I'm waking up every hour or so, and now I'm just not tired anymore. (It could be the pain...? But it's not that bad! But bad enough to where I can't sleep in certain positions... I dunno. Whatevs. I took a tramadol and hopefully that will help me knock back out. Gotta do what you gotta do.)

Anyway, as I was drifting off the first, second, and third times, I was thinking about a few things... one of them being how my friend H encouraged me in my writing today. She sent me a message that went thusly:

"So for the whole month of February I've been trying to write one stinkin page on my courtship website and have been having the hardest time doing a page about the Proverbs 31 woman. I thought to myself, I bet I could ask C what she would write and she could come up with a really good intro in like two seconds. Just thinking about talking to you or asking for your help INSPIRED me! Seriously. 

I just finished reading this blog post (SUPER GOOD BLOGGER!) and I just HAD to tell you that you REALLY have a gift for writing. With your fibro thing going on and having low energy and all, you can really make an impact on this world through writing. That IS your gift. I like following your blog - largely because I care about you, largely because it educates me in my pursuit to be a good counselor, but another large factor is that it's just well written!"

Yes, well... clearly, it meant a lot to me. A lot. (And I hope you don't mind my sharing it, H!) And the funny thing is that I've been thinking lately about how I can make a contribution to the world now that I'm so "diminished" in other ways... It's like, "Okay, my definition of productivity has totally been turned on its head. How can I still be productive without judging myself on what I accomplish on a daily basis?" Writing could be it. I don't know what that will look like, exactly, but I feel that my feet are set on that path, and I'm slowly but surely walking toward something. I've felt that way for a little while now, and it's kinda exciting. Hard, 'cause you know me and waiting for stuff, but exciting.

That led me to begin thinking about other ways I can reach out and make a difference (while making a living), and the idea for an Etsy store came to me while I was drifting.

Okay, related side note: S has found a place to live and will be moving out within the next few weeks. That means that we'll have a spare bedroom, and C said that I can have it to move all of my crafty stuff (and wedding stuff) into! That means that I'll actually get to set up my easel! So I was thinking about how, once I have a space to work in, I can start making stuff, and how therapeutic it was for me to make that spoon last week...

And that led me to thinking about creating an Etsy store that specializes in survivor awareness jewelry, keychains, bookmarks, and art. Survivors of chronic illnesses, survivors of abuse, invisible illnesses... Like, I could have a whole "line" of stuff just for and about spoonies, featuring and made of spoons, and I could even make more of those "inspirational spoons" and feature them as gifts for the spoonies in people's lives... and I could have another line of stuff related to abuse survivors... and I could also put up the art that I create in various mediums. I'm thinking of a name something along the lines of The Art of Survival, or something like that. While the majority of profits would go towards defraying my medical bills (I really want to help R out on that one!), 10% of any profits would go toward various organizations that promote awareness of and healing from chronic illnesses and abuse.

While I don't have the resources to invest in jewelry and keychain making materials, I can definitely pick up cheap, older jewelry from thrift stores and take it apart to reassemble the parts into what I desire. As far as bookmarks and art goes, well, I'm always seeing things at Goodwill and the dollar store that I'm like, "Oooh, you know what I could make out of that?"

C says that, if I think I can do it, go for it. I'm thinking that I'll wait until after the wedding to even try thinking of it. I may put it off until this summer, even, when I don't have classes. We'll see. Definitely not until after the wedding, though! I think it would be fun to try to pursue this, even if it doesn't pan out like I'd hope that it would. (Hoping to become somewhat self-sufficient, income wise!)

And for now, I'll be patient and see where my writing takes me. I feel like I can't really contribute much in the way of fibromyalgia awareness or anything until I get mine under control, you know? My diagnosis is so recent and my symptoms so unpredictable that I feel like the only thing I really understand is the "freak out" stage... and I don't even have the answers for that yet!! lol

We'll see. We'll see. For now, it's enough to just dream...

I found out from my primary care physician yesterday (whom I love!) that on the last batch of blood work they did, I tested positive for a screening of auto-immune disorder (ANA). What does that mean? Well, this link explains it further, but basically it means that there's some auto-immune involvement, and they're giving me a referral to a rheumatologist to figure out exactly what's going on. (It was the development of the joint pain that really clued her in.)

Specifics? Well, I got ANA positive, speckled pattern, with increased titers of 1:320. According to that website (and my doctor's info), that means that I have increased levels of antinuclear antibodies in my blood. As far as the speckled pattern goes, well... that and the fact that she did an ANA test in the first place... yeah. It's associated with lupus. The dread disease that keeps coming up again and again lately.

Oh dear God, please... not lupus... I don't want lupus. (It looks so matter of fact typed out, but the truth is that I'm fighting back tears.)

Still... here's hoping it's *just* fibromyalgia... Check out this article on the link between low cortisol levels (which I DEFINITELY have) and fibromyalgia. (Unfortunately, the article also points out that FM is often concurrent with... you guess it... lupus. And other auto-immune diseases.)

Anyway, I'm going back to bed here in a minute, but I wanted to get that off my chest. Today's going to be busy, and yesterday kicked my butt, so I went to bed early... but I woke up at 3:30 a.m., and again at 5. Couldn't get back to sleep, so I figured I'd get up and do my math homework, which I didn't do yesterday because of all the butt-kicking and early bedtimes that were going on. I know myself, and if I wake up without getting enough sleep, just an hour or so later, I'll be overcome with my sleep-deprivation symptoms: nausea, headache, a particular "flavor" of fatigue that I can't really explain (it only shows up when I need more sleep), vision problems, etc. Sure enough, the symptoms paraded through, right on time, so I'm ready to hit the hay again for a couple of hours. A nice little nap to kick off the day right :)

Also, I asked the doctor about possibly getting on disability. She said it's definitely a possibility, and seeing these specialists will strengthen my case, give me documented proof, and we'll be able to go from there. Right now, it would be more like "hearsay". So I'll wait a while, but it may happen... particularly if this turns out to be something chronic. Who knows... it may at least help me get on food stamps, yeah?

Also, had some crazy weird vivid dreams last night. The one closest to waking was my wedding. (There was some other one about a young boy on a plane that ended up having to bail because the plane was crashing, and he landed in the Swiss Alps in winter and he and the other guy who made it with him survived and made it back to civilization somehow.) For some reason, we had set up the ceremony so that I didn't have to walk down the aisle until halfway through. So I was there, watching the rest of the wedding party walk down the aisle (C was shirtless and barefoot in his gym shorts, I might add! And they all did this weird "ring around the rosy"/game of tag thing until they tired of it and dashed down the aisle helter-skelter), and then I realized while holding my bouquet, "Oh! I need to get ready! I'm not dressed, my hair's not done, I'm not wearing any makeup, nothing!"

So I'm running around, trying to find my wedding dress (for some reason we were having the ceremony at the SDA church in town, and all the people I was talking to were actual church members!), and then realized that it hadn't come in the mail yet. But it was supposed to be there, that day at the latest. So I grab the phone book, and I'm dialing UPS to see if they have my package as I run outside to the mailbox, and guess what's sitting on the ground? A box, with my name on it! It was my dress, except that now I had this wrinkled wedding dress with no way to steam it, but I put it on anyway.

Fortunately, my hair was already "waved" (because I used the three-barrel curler on my hair yesterday, so it carried over into my dream), but I had to put on my makeup in a hurry, so I applied my mascara and while that was drying I was trying to figure out which shoes I wanted to wear. Do I want the black boots? Or do I want the silver heels that I bought just for the wedding? Or do I want this random pair of cute white heels that I've never seen before? Decisions, decisions... In the end, the silver heels were the most comfortable, and I did spend 8 dollars on them, sooooo....

Oh, it was a mess.

I woke up before anything else went down, thankfully!

But seriously? On the actual wedding day, I'm not going to wait until the ceremony is starting to get ready. (This probably just has to do with my buying my dress the other day and feeling like I'm losing control. Also, C pointed out astutely that I'm not at all used to making major purchases.)

I got the flu. It was pretty awful the first night, got somewhat better the next day, and today I'm doing even better. Still not "better" better, but better... if that makes sense. :)

I spent yesterday lying in bed, watching movies on my computer. They're all those "Feature Family Films" movies, because my gramma collects them, and it seems that they were all set back in the 50's for some reason.

They're all about love, and faith, and family. It was neat. Kinda like how country music used to be.

And you know what? I had to come face to face with this notion in my head that somehow I don't deserve love like everyone else. I mean, I was pretty out of it yesterday, so I didn't delve into the subject too deeply, but I challenged the idea.

And I wonder, I really wonder, if that's what I'm so afraid about with romantic relationships. I'm really scared of meeting someone amazing, because I don't feel that I'm worth someone amazing. J tells me that I am amazing, and deserve someone awesome (better than D, she says lol), but the thought scares me. Not to mention the transiency of all we experience in this world.... I mean, truly, life, love, youth-- they can all be snatched away in an instant, in the time it takes to draw a breath. And that is scary, too. Because what if I let down my guard and become truly, deeply committed to and in love with someone and then they're taken away?

I do wonder, which hurts worse-- unrequited love, or love lost? I've been through both, I guess, so it seems to me that love lost hurts worse, and lingers longer.

But I do deserve to be loved. I do. Just as much as anyone else. I don't deserve to be ignored. I don't deserve to be hurt. I deserve to be respected and valued and cherished, just like any woman. I'm through poking around trash heaps for treasure. I'm done settling because I'm afraid. I'm done hoping that any old guy will take me, because I don't feel like I have anything to offer.

No way. I have potential. I have strength. I have talents and skills and intelligence. I have a love for God that will carry me through tough times.

I am a valuable asset.

Now... I just hope someone else will agree with me! I don't want to end up a haughty old maid.

Yesterday I got sick, fever and all. (Okay, really, it shouldn't surprise me, since I've been fighting off a low-grade respiratory infection for... a month now? And I've had--relatively--quite a bit of sugar over the past few days, since it's a holiday and all. A chocolate bar and my very own container of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Oh, and I shared a gallon of green tea with J. Bad idea... but delicious. ^_^) So I didn't do much of anything, really. I stayed in my pj's most of the day.

Today... I stayed in my pj's until, like, 3 p.m. Didn't do much. The fever's half gone, just a very low-grade one of a degree or so. Paltry, really. (Emergen-C saves the day!!)

I'm torn between whether to enjoy and luxuriate in the freedom to do absolutely nothing if I wish, or whether to give in to the guilt and scorn I feel toward myself upon doing absolutely nothing.

But can I not, if I choose, stay in my pajamas and watch 2 chick flicks in a row if I desire?

Yes. I can. I have that choice. Is the the wrong choice? That I cannot say, but I do know that I have the choice. It is my decision, and I need to be okay with it, whichever way I choose.

Moving on from that... Mom and R (mostly R, I think) have decided to give J the counseling she desires, once they found out that on our insurance it's only a $20 copay each session. She and I had a talk on the way home from church last week, and she broached the topic.

"I think I need therapy."

"What makes you say that?"

"I'm really depressed."

Ah. I get that. I shared with her what I've learned, how it's helped... and how I used to (and still do) self-medicate with music, relationships. She was like, "I do that too! I listen to music to make myself feel better, to forget everything." Huh. We're more alike than I thought. Which is odd, considering that we haven't lived together much in our lives. Once Mom finally got custody of the two little ones back, I was already in high school, and a couple of years later I went away to academy. Then they moved to the midwest, and we've seen each other, like, once a year for the past four years.

Anyway, I told J that I'd champion the cause for her, and I shared our conversation with R two days later. I could tell that he really wanted to help J get better, but he just hadn't realized that it was so affordable. (PTL that I started counseling and worked out the cost on our insurance already!) He's going to start looking around for someone good to take her to, and possibly even Jr. We all agree that K needs it too, but the problem is the desire to change, you know? K doesn't seem to feel her need, so she won't talk or work through things. J feels her need, and that makes all the difference.

I've discovered that I love perch. The fish. It's delicious. I'm finding that I really enjoy fish! Who knew?

The reason I felt the urge to blog was because I need to process through the future, and the coming changes.

I haven't had the guts yet to even touch my feelings about the S's, because they're so ambivalent. Maybe after I leave and it's "safe" lol. When I left for summer camp, there were no problems, but the intervening months have brought up conflicting feelings within me, and I desire to understand the roots of these feelings. I do know that I love them, and they're family. That's enough for now, I think.

Gramma agreed to allow me to bring Holly with me! She's not *thrilled* with the idea, but she'll accept it... I think more for the sake of her love for her granddaughter than anything else. Oh well... what are connections for, if not to milk for personal gain and satisfaction? Kidding...


The movies I've been watching lately and the books I've read have gotten me to thinking... what's my focus in life, what's my purpose? What am I aiming for? And what are my "side focuses"?

I kind of see it as having one large passion to pursue, and then having little passions (like hobbies) on the side. And this, along with personality, comprises who you are.

So who am I?

Being here, without a schedule, without expectations, has given me a glimpse into the near future, when I will be on my own, determining a vast portion of my daily life. And, truly, it's those little decisions that collide against each other, one by one, until you have this massive pileup that is "how the day went".

What food choices am I going to make? How often will I eat, what will I eat, and how much? (This affects my budget, too!) (Oooh! I can work my way through the soup cookbooks I got for Christmas!)

How will I get my exercise? I'd like to go for walks and go hiking in the nearby mountains, but I definitely don't want to give up racquetball. Ought I to join a gym? I'd love to join an exercise or dance class. I've been toying with the thought of taking up jogging... which I've previously hated, but who knows? I passionately love nutritional yeast flakes, onions, and avocados, three things I could not stand until just a few years ago.

I think I'll join the library. I need a fresh supply of books to occupy my mind.

I'll have sermons to prepare, undoubtably, and special musics to prepare for as well. I want to work with the youth again-- at least start our game nights back up, get some activities going. The family that plays together stays together :).

Of course I'll be taking piano lessons, which I'm SUPER stoked about. Music is definitely a "side passion".

I'll be working with the Healing Journey, so that means support groups at least once a week, plus additional extras, like fundraisers. I am going to ask S if I can job shadow her as a social worker, so I can see what it's really like. Mom and K brought up the idea of volunteering at the animal shelter to walk the dogs, and I'd LOVE that! I also want to get involved with the homeless shelters around Y. Homeless people frighten and intrigue me. I'm not homeless in the sense that they are, but I have been. If not the homeless shelters, then the battered women's shelter. It's a secret location, but unless they've moved in the last 6 years or so, I think I know where they are.

Above all, my decision to attend school in the fall must remain firm. It's partially because this is a good thing I know I'll benefit from, and be able to help other people with, but more than that-- it is my commitment to a decision, my undeterred pursuit of a goal that I have set.

I've been tossed about by circumstances, chance, and whimsy for so long... I want to push through obstacles and achieve something. Yes, my personality is partially fickle and capricious, and that's fine, but... at least this once... I want to persevere.

This is a season of change, I recognize that. And I'm discovering much about myself, about what I like and dislike, about my boundaries. That's a good thing. (Heh, realizing that D and I may be more compatible than I had initially thought, too... interestingly. But figuring out who I am apart from a desire to please anyone else is a much better way to do things!)

I'm realizing how paradoxical I am, too. I am fragile, to be sure, but I am also strong beyond belief. It takes a special strength to have lived the kind of life I have and come out the other side a survivor, rather than a victim. The very next breath I took, the very next heartbeat, made me a survivor. Victims die, survivors live. And even though I survived broken, I still survived. Nothing can change that.

Now, in this time of uncertainty and learning, I am still strong. I will not shatter, even as the waves of risk pound and rush through my very being.

I will pursue my goal, and I will enjoy it! I'm going have fun living, for crying out loud!

And if that means that some days I stay in my pajamas until 3 p.m., then that's okay.

By the way, you know what sucks?

Yeah, I still love D. For crying out loud. I wish I could just forget about him, but... he's got a tender place in my heart. Don't get me wrong-- it's not like I'm ready to move to Alaska and marry the guy. That would not be a wise decision. But I still find hope floating to the surface, and I think about him frequently enough for it to be noticeable to me.

I asked my mom how you know when you love someone, and she said that, basically, it's when you want what's best for the other person no matter what, even if it goes against what you want, or even hurts you. You care about what's best for them before you care about what's best for you. Upon digesting and pondering that... that's where I'm at with D. It's pretty simple, really.

Unrequited love bites. That's all.

Part of my pressing forward and pursuing my goal is forgetting about D, forgetting about Alaska (for now-- I still REALLY want to go there someday), and forgetting about romance and relationships.

Did I mention that I feel doomed-- er, that is called-- to singleness? LOL. Seriously, though, I've finally come to that place where I've made peace with the thought of being single for the rest of my life. Thanks, D. You helped with that. No, it's not a knee-jerk defense against being hurt again. It's a thought out conclusion, something to the tune of You know... being single really isn't bad. I mean, I enjoy it. I want to get married someday, sure, but if that doesn't happen... that's okay. Doesn't mean I won't be lonely at times, but it'd be okay. Yeah. I'd be alright. I can focus on learning about God's love instead of some guy's. ^ _ ^

I am completely humbled right now. I'm in awe. I'm beyond awe.

I can't believe what God has done for me... It's amazing to me that he would care for me so much... I'm just... stunned. Tear-filled eyes lifted to heaven in a silent Hallelujah.

First of all, I made it safely to Y. I thought that was business as usual, but when my grampa took my car to the mechanic's this morning (to check out a leak that mysteriously stopped the day before I left), he noticed that my left rear tire was, to put it simply, very very bad. There were wires sticking out and everything.

When he took it to the mechanic's, he mentioned that I had just come from California. A turned to him in amazement and asked, "How?! I can't believe she made it here!" Indeed, they weren't even sure my grampa would make it to the Walmart to get a new tire.

The tire had separated. While I was driving.

That's the exact same tire that blew out in The Accident back in '06... you know, the one where I should have died? The one where I went blind?

I just... wow. And see, the thing is, I stopped before I got to J and filled up my tires with air (which we had also done just before the blowout-- I'm so done with filling up tires on the road!!), and the psi was fine, around 35. A little low, but not bad. When they checked it this morning, it was 18! Clearly, this happened after I filled up the tires, and I had no clue.

The tire separated. I am still in shock. I literally could have died yesterday. Obviously, God's not done with me yet. :)

That leads me to my second point... I got a job! (Actually, I came home floating on cloud 9 with this news when I found out about the tire-- it makes it so much more poignant.)

It's volunteer, at first, but I'll actually be getting a paycheck after a while, which is an unexpected blessing.

It came out of my decision to start a support group for abuse survivors up where I'm at in Idaho. I had been struggling with the decision for some time- months- thinking, Is this really the right thing to do? Am I qualified for this? Is this what God wants me to do?

After some things falling into place in my mind lately (especially speaking to E's DV and Sexual Assault groups while in Y, and singing for those beautiful girls at camp), I finally decided to just do it. These survivors need someplace to go where they can heal, where they can find God, where they can experience his love. They need this, and so do I. I'm not going to let my fear of making a mistake and losing God's love and affection stop me, because that's just not truth. It's of God, and I'm going for it.

So today, while I was visiting with my wonderful, beautiful, superlative friend and mentor E (who was actually my Victim's Rights Advocate back in the very beginning of my journey towards healing), I told her that I was going to do it. I was going to start a support group in Idaho.

She then started talking about 503c's and grants and umbrellas and all kinds of stuff, and I realized... she wants me to work with her! I'm not in this alone!

So, basically, I'm going to open up an Idaho chapter of her agency that God just started, The Healing Journey. I'm going to start another blog specifically chronicling  that experience.

Then, she starts talking about paychecks! Because I'm going to be under the umbrella of her agency, I'll be getting paid to run this support group. I'm going to do fundraising for the agency.

Y'all, I'm going to be a director of an agency!

God, what are you doing with me?! You're giving me this job, doing what I love? I was going to do it volunteer! You really put this in my lap? WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH ME?! You're amazing!!

I'm just so... humbled. Awed. Nervous. Stunned. Excited.

He wants to use me. I'm so broken. I have so much healing to do. I was so untrusting, not sure that he could provide a paycheck for me when I went back home.

And he still wants me... to be that broken vessel, that cracked jar of clay...
He wants me to blaze for him. How can his light pour out of me if there are no cracks? It stays locked inside.

God has chosen me. He's given me a job, doing what I've been wanting to do for how many months and years now? He's given me my passion... and I know it's going to be hard. That's why I'm nervous. I feel inadequate. But it's not me, it's him. And he knew that he wanted me to do this, and he wrapped his hand around my tire and kept it from disintegrating when, in all reality, it should have.

And I'm in awe.

“O taste and see that the LORD is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him. The LORD redeemeth (ransoms) the soul of his servants: and none of them that trust in him shall be desolate.” {Psalm 34:8, 22}

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the LORD. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts.” {Isaiah 55:8, 9}

Wow. What a week. (Nine days, actually, since my last day off... now I understand more of why God instituted Sabbath rest. I don’t like not having it!)

They took away our computers and cell phones on the first day of Staff Training, which would be the Sunday before last. I had heard, and was hoping, that they would let us keep our phones and comps during training week, but no such luck.

I wrote six letters last week. Boy, how I miss communicating...

Staff training was busy. The returning staff say that they don’t remember working this much or this hard during training weeks before. I wouldn’t know any different. My days are all pretty much the same, since I’m in the kitchen.

I feel like some sort of superhero (or maybe supervillain?)-- by day, I’m a mild-mannered member of the kitchen staff. By night... I am a girl’s counselor. Yeah, yeah, nothing too thrilling in the way of saving the world. But, if you think about it... I am helping to save the world a little bit. The kids look up to the staff, and the way we interact with them could affect major life decisions. Kids are extremely impressionable, especially at this young age (6-8). So as I am a good influence on these girls, I am helping to make the world a better place, a little bit.

When the campers showed up on Sunday, I realized what a heavy responsibility we have as staff. I remember being a camper and being in a sort of awe around the counselors (not the kitchen staff, unfortunately!), like, “Whoaaaaa... They’re so COOL, and so much older, and so... whoa.” Now, I’m the staff. How the tables have turned!

The reason I included those verses at the beginning was because I’ve had an interesting experience with God these past nine days. I did NOT want to be in the kitchen when I first came up here, then I was okay with it, then I had to come to terms with the fact that I might be in the kitchen all summer, and now... I’m in the kitchen all summer. And it’s okay. As a matter of fact, I’m enjoying it!

I got my Food Handler’s License last week. I got to play short-order cook and crank out quesadillas for a hundred-odd people. I got to be part of the serving team for 600 people last weekend. There have been a lot of challenging experiences, and a lot of fun and laughter to go with them. I just pray that I can be a shining light for God, no matter where I am. The LDS group that was here had some nice things to say to me.

“You’re always so cheerful and smiling! Look at her! She’s filling up the lettuce, and she’s still smiling!”

“You have the most gorgeous voice.”

“Thank you SO much! I love croutons!”

Hehe.

Then there was the homesickness that I have dealt with for the last two and a half months. It got so bad that I was going to leave... again. I just wanted to go home, to be where I was wanted and loved, because I was feeling like a failure or a burden here. THEN, in one of our staff meetings, the Boss told the group that anyone who was homesick should just go home. They don’t want homesick people here who are going to be bringing the kids down, or doing a halfhearted job. I thought, “Aha! An easy out! But should I take it? Should I actually leave?”

So I prayed... and cried. I did a lot of crying. And I prayed that God would help me. But the feelings didn’t go away. I was still down and sad and missing home desperately.

That night, I dreamt that I actually drove back home, and I walked into the living room and the family was there, and Juneaux was there, and I was so happy to be home, and they were so happy that I was home, and... I was miserable when I woke up.

So in my quiet time with God, I prayed again.

God, if you have a reason for me to be here this summer, then I need you to take away my homesickness, and give me a heart of happiness and joy, a heart that’s willing to serve.

I still felt sad and lonely, but I went to work anyway. Around lunch time, I stopped short as I realized, I’m happy! And I’m not homesick anymore!

Don’t get me wrong, I still miss home. It’s a wonderful place to be, and I want to be back there as soon as possible... but I’m not homesick. I can wait. It’s okay. I’m not desperate and pining and miserable because I’m not at home anymore.

And time has passed, and the horrible waves of homesickness have not washed over me again. God is good. I tasted, and I’m amazed. And I know that his plans and thoughts are way higher and better than mine... because I sure didn’t plan on being in the kitchen this summer, but it’s been a growth experience that I never would have anticipated. It’s been good, and I’m glad.

Yesterday, I was told that 5 or 6 of the kids here at camp are here because I went to their school recruiting. I got an “attaboy” from the Boss. :)

I’ll probably do a separate post with pictures of the camp, so I’ll wrap this up... because I want to call D. I haven’t talked to him yet (I had to go shopping for jeans yesterday, and I don’t do well shopping and phone talking at the same time), and today’s our 2 month mark.

I’m glad I’m here, and now I know that God has a reason for my being here this summer. No more uncertainty. I like that.

I think I may have just forgiven my abuser(s).

"May have? Shouldn't you know if you've forgiven someone?"

Yeah, but, you see... I'm not sure how forgiveness actually works in a scenario like mine... I don't know what it looks like, exactly. But I think it just happened.

I had a rough night last night. For some reason unbeknownst to me, I had bad dreams last night about being abused/molested. It was awful and humiliating, and the worst part about my dreams is that they are so vivid, I feel like it's actually happening. So that's how I spent my night, or at least part of it.

I woke up out of that dream to go to work this morning, and I was fighting flashbacks. Memories were resurfacing, and I was thinking, Not here! Not now!!

I had managed to forget. Sure, it happened. Of course it did. But I had pushed it to the far reaches of my mind where I didn't have to recall it anymore, where I didn't have to feel anything about it... I could discuss the fact that I was molested, but it was an apathetic discourse. Numb. No feeling.

Today, the memories resurfaced (at least, some of them), and now they were accompanied by the feelings of fear, helplessness, and humiliation fresh from my my awful dream.

Finally, work was over, and I went home and just sobbed before God.


I don't even know how to begin processing this!! I feel so humiliated, so worthless and filthy and used... Like, this is all I'm good for- to be humiliated so someone else can get their kicks.


Somehow, God spoke to my heart as I was sobbing... he showed me the Cross.

"You're not worthless. See what value I have placed upon you? What happened to you is not an indicator of your worth and value, it's an indicator of the depravity of the other person. That's what happens to hearts when they are turned away from Me. You have value, my child, and worth. You are loved."

And when I realized that G and C's hearts were turned away from God... I realized that I could forgive them. What they did was wrong. They humiliated me, they hurt me, and it was wrong. But it's not my place to hold it against them anymore. Yes, it was wrong, but now they are accountable to God, not to me.

I even said it out loud. (Well, kinda whispered, but whatever. It was audible.)

"I forgive you, G."

I put him in prison. I still think it was the right thing to do. Even if I forgive him, he still needs to be accountable for the wrong, illegal things that he did. He needs to experience the consequences of his actions.

"I forgive you, C."

The humiliation and shame I experienced at his hands was a direct result of the warpage I received at the hands of G. If I were healthy, I would not have stood for those things.

His heart, too, is turned away from God... and I see what an ugly bent the soul takes when you walk that path. He's accountable to God now. I don't hold it against him.

Is this forgiveness? Whatever it is... I feel like it's a step forward.

I had a weird dream last night... it had a lot to do with prayer, but it also had to do with witchcraft and weirdness. I was at an elementary school. As a matter of fact, I was an elementary schooler (sometimes). Other times, I was just myself. I kept falling asleep in class, but for some reason it was okay, because something drastic and devastating had just happened to K, my sister, so I was running on empty, basically.

And one time the teacher called on me to pray for the class as it ended. I stood and said, "Okay, let's pray to God." Some smart aleck in the back snorted and said, "Which god?" I replied, "Yahweh," and started praying. Simple prayers... like the ones I usually pray.

And then, at the end of the dream, my "partner" for something was, apparently, dabbling in witchcraft, and it somehow mysteriously rubbed off on me. (I know that's not how it works, but it did in the dream!) So I started getting this weird rash and sort of turning into a frog, but as I stumbled outside in horror, I saw my partner there. I ran over to her, but suddenly there were people everywhere- sitting in trees, walking towards us, etc. They were mostly kids our age. The weird thing was, they were chanting "Too old! Too old!" (Presumably, I was too old for... something.) She ran towards the swings, yelling and hollering about how they were coming for us, and the swings were our safety. When we finally made it to the swingset, she told me that they were usually good about leaving her alone when she was on the swings. By this time, I realized that they were, of course, "ghosts". (Yeah, I totally don't believe in ghosts. I know that they're basically demons in disguise.) But I was scared in the dream, so I kept swinging. Then, the unthinkable happened... I fell off of the swing. Hard. It hurt, too.

This blonde kid had been lurking around my swing, and now he walked over, presumably to attack me or somesuch. I kicked him, and all the other "ghosts" suddenly perked up, like "Whoa-ho-ho, we'll get her now!" He grabbed my arm, so I grabbed his leg, and I was desperately racking my brain for Scriptures to throw at him. I started praying aloud for God to do something, and finally a verse or two popped into my head, and I was basically rebuking the devil when I woke myself up.

Whew. What an adventure! It kind of scared me, though... I realized how limited my arsenal of Bible verses really is, if I were to find myself in some sort of crazy, devil-rebuking situation. Yeah. It's time to remedy that.

So, today, I'm going to my friend A's bridal shower. I've never been to one of these before, so it'll be neat, I'm sure. Plus I love A passionately, and I'm so excited to see her again! It's been... over a year. At least. Probably 2. And I'm so willing to drive 2 hours for this. Pah! What are 2 hours? Please. I'm so there.

And I got her a gift. I hope she likes it.