Attitude Of Gratitude

A month has passed since I decided to re-vamp my dedication to my health in an effort to boost my immune system. I know this because I'm out of my anti-viral. The pharmacy contacted my doctor in Arizona for a refill, but my MD hasn't responded. Of course I should follow up with an email or call, but I'm not quite sure I want to stay on it. Plus I avoid doctors like the plague and don't want her to know I've moved until I find a new one. I've been better, not perfect, about juicing, and am taking more L-Lysine and immune boosters. I keep waiting for the wonderfully managed Fibro I had in Arizona to find me, but even doing all the aforementioned, it hasn't. Of course it took months to get there in Arizona, and I had no idea I would wind up in such a great place. In this case hindsight is only making me impatient, uptight, and altogether bitchy.

Sometime around 6 AM, three hours after I went to sleep, the switch flipped on inside my head. Oh yea, THIS is why I took the anti-viral! When I finally rolled out of bed around 10 I was grouchy and sore. Taking a walk in the unseasonable 87 degrees should've made me happy. Instead it reminded me I will most likely sit in my house all day like a hermit, and do very little to move my life forward. This reminded me all my problems from Arizona came with me to California, which is a depressing notion. I bargained my way out of contacting my doctor by deciding to double up on my immune boosters. But when I went to go add another bottle to my vitamin order shopping cart, it was backordered and unavailable. Seriously? This is a really big deal! The VICTIM siren started whirling hysterically around my brain. 

Am I forever destined to be live all my days at the mercy of this incurable illness? Why are so many wrenches constantly thrown in my path? I found another online source for EpiCor, at a better price. So I started comparing the rest of my vitamins and supplements. Then I got all mad, because this is a daylong project and I was supposed to be doing yoga, and hadn't had my coffee yet and was out of 1/2 and 1/2, and was hungry and wanted to eat, and remember I woke up grouchy, and... 

Why can't I just be happy? Even with my current tizzy of mindless whining, things have been a lot harder for a lot longer. No, everything isn't perfect, but with my constant need to reclaim as much of my life as possible, it never will be! That's the problem with being me. So I got up, realized how lucky I was to only have to walk half a block to get cream, marveled over how wonderful the sun felt warming my skin, and thanked God all these wrenches give me a chance to do better.

Thanks for joining,

Leah      

Aggressively Pursuing Relaxation

This past weekend I had a rather enlightening experience. It really opened my eyes to what's been going on with me emotionally as of late. On Saturday evening my husband and I gathered our vices and went down to the hot tub. We were nothing more than two hardworking individuals anticipating a much-needed infusion of relaxation and rejuvenation. So he with his scotch and cigar, and me with my Dos Equis, settled in to watch the sunset and pretend we were on vacation, since it's usually the only time I imbibe with the sun still up. 

Unfortunately, when we got down there, things started going wrong right away. The jets were broken, which was annoying. The Spotify app wasn't working correctly, and we immediately started bickering over which phone to hook up to our portable speaker, playlist to listen to, and song to enjoy, even though none of it was functioning. Mind you, as we launched into a full-fledged attack of, "I'm right, you're wrong," the sun was rapidly descending in the sky. By the time we got a grip and stopped poking at each other, there were precious few minutes left to watch the flaming globe disappear into the horizon. So with precision I aggressively hurled all my expectations of relaxation into those fledgling last moments...

Do I really need to admit the night only went downhill from there? On Sunday morning we hashed it out, and realized two people who race around nonstop trying to accomplish life couldn't just relax on a dime. More to the point, I realized precisely what I've been doing that's making me that uptight, stressed-out freak-show I've been complaining about as of late. In my attempt to regain as much of my life as my new-found health will allow, I'm aggressively trying to reclaim everything I lost. Not what's important, realistic or necessary, but all of it. And it's making me crazy, ungrateful and negative. With a profound exhale I readjusted my mentality, and have spent the last few days really trying to slow down, smell the freakin' roses, and be grateful for what I have. Without aggressively needing more. 

Thanks for joining,
Leah      

Goodbye Forward Progress

I'm on a quest to learn how to survive my life. The circumstances surrounding my reality are just plain odd. Fibromyalgia, as far as disease profiles go, is just plain odd. And learning how to coax the two, my reality and my Fibro, into a cohesive life where I can actually accomplish something, well, that seems to be the insurmountable challenge. I realized my first mistake was too much expectation. After so many years in the exhaustive push-crash cycle this illness knows so well, I found myself able to push and...keep on pushing. Juicing was my salvation! Whatever copious amounts of veggies I was drinking had a profound affect on my health. With amazement I spent a few solid months barreling down the road of forward progress. 

Then the train got derailed, as it frequently does, and for the life of me I can't get the damn train back on it's track! I'm determined, though. My biggest adversaries right now are expectation, anger and being uptight. And I really think the biggest one is being uptight. See, I have all these expectations for myself. Discipline is the only way I accomplish anything in life. However, discipline and expectation make me very uptight. Then I get all bent out of shape and angry, and start freaking out because so much of my life is out of my control. Well, I've had enough. I'm shoving Miss Uptight off the train and moving ahead without her!

When this flare started, a mere few days after my last one, I laughed. The only other option was to cry and freak out, so I decided to laugh. Whenever that angry, bent out of shape, victimized feeling rises up inside me, I take a deep breath and laugh. Sometimes it's masking tears, sometimes it sets me straight, but either way, I'm not crying and freaking out, so I consider laughing a success. I'm also augmenting my expectations, specifically where exercise is concerned. Getting up five days a week early enough to exercise in this hot weather is too much for this girl, and that's just the way it is. Est. So I'm taking Wednesdays off, and allowing myself to sleep in. I'm laughing, not crying, over the things I can't control. And I'm more determined than ever if I can't move my life forward right now, to hang on to the progress I got.

Thanks for joining,

Leah       

Don't React!

Well, my little tantrum yesterday did nothing to serve my interests whatsoever. All reflecting on every problem in my life, at the same time, accomplished was to freak me out. When freaking out and a flare go hand in hand, I literally turn into Chicken Little. After stewing around in that psychosis for a while, it takes so much extra effort to get myself back on track, I want to scream! I thought my progress in this arena was past such blatant regression. What happened to What Is, Is? Sigh. I guess progress isn't perfection.

I have two verses from Psalms tattooed on the inside of my right forearm. It's the two verses I said while chanting my way around my rosary beads for two days in the hospital. The two days between when the doctors told me I had two strokes and was going to die, because they didn't know how to stop more from coming, and when they told me they found the cause, and I was going to live. In my heart of hearts I credit Psalms 23:4 and 118:17 for saving my life so many times since I permanently marked them on my body, it's not even funny. If even just because in my darkest times I would glance at my outstretched arms, shaking a fist at the sky as I cried out 'Why?,' and be reminded that in my most critical hour, I had hope, and faith. If I had it then, why can't I find it now?

Which leads me to the latest mantra I absolutely must adopt, if I want to move forward in life. Don't react! Because every time I do it screws everything up worst than it already is. The simple truth is no matter how unfair or unjust or wrong I may perceive my reality, the only person who is going to fight for my quality of life, is me. So yes, I'm contemplating tattooing the coveted behavior on the inside of my left forearm. But instead of tiny script, this one might be best in big, Old English lettering that the astronauts on the mission to Mars can see from space. I suppose I should ask my husband if he wants to be married to someone who looks like the guy from Memento before I do, though.

Thanks for joining,

Leah