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Showing posts from April, 2014

Admitting It Is The First Step

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I readily admit that I have a problem. I'm addicted. It's that simple.

Some days I just can't help it. Most days. Ok, just about every day. 

Hour after hour - popping vicodin, yelling at people, making poor life choices. I just can't stop. 

I'm addicted.

I'm not totally to blame, though. Had Netflix not decided to add House, M.D. to their streaming video choices, I would not be addicted to watching the pill-popping doctor and his cohorts hour after hour every day. I watch House while doing dishes, while doing yoga, while checking email, while making dinner. Having a Kindle just makes things worse, as I can prop it in the kitchen cabinet or on my bed, or on the dryer. 


At least I'm getting stuff done while feeding my addiction. I guess it could be worse - I could be addicted to pain pills.

Negapositivity

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You said I need to stop being so negative all the time - that I need to concentrate on the blessings in my life and stop wallowing in my illness. 

I don't think you understand.

When I talk about how my illness is affecting my life or post something about it online, you read it as whining, while I'm merely stating what I'm experiencing that day. Just as you post about what you had for dinner, how much exercise you got, how cute your dog is, or an anecdote from your most recent adventure, I sometimes talk or post about how much rest I needed to make it through the day, requests to my body to please be kind, or my most recent adventures at the doctor's office. 

This is my life. 

My life, every day, is managing my health  ...and doctor appointments - so many doctor appointments.  I need to manage my levels of activity and rest, balance that with household chores, homeschooling, volunteering, child-wrangling, and everything else involved in living life. And then there's dea…

Awakening

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Forward movement. Progress. Whatever you want to call it, I'll take it.

After long weeks stuck in the quagmire of ill children and autoimmune disease-related misery, I've finally started moving forward. I've cleaned out cabinets and drawers, cleared shelves, and coordinated shopping lists and coupons saving my family lots of money. We've rearranged, reexamined, and prioritized. 

Even the smallest accomplishment seems momentous these days. It was a long Winter, which seeped its way into Spring and only now are things starting to feel as Springy as they should.

Open windows inspire cleaning and rearranging and letting go of accumulated comforts to make way for change. 

And change is coming. Soon we will get estimates on demolition and rebuilding of a rotten wall of our house, and hopefully soon afterwards, the process will be underway. Once that is done, and deck rebuilt, we transform the basement room into a haven for our younger teen, setting off the first domino in the Gr…

What Home Looks Like

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Homebirth has made its way into many conversations lately. People seem shocked that I would have given birth at home, and even moreso that I can't imagine wanting to birth anywhere else. I have had a medicated hospital birth, a natural hospital birth, a natural birth center waterbirth, and two waterbirths at home. I'd love to say that all my children's births were beautiful in their own way, but the fact of the matter is that Alexander's birth was quite traumatic to both of us. His birth, however, led me down that path to gaining confidence in my body's ability to birth, which in turn led me toward homebirth.

People seem to think that homebirth must somehow require courage. It took courage for me to get into a vehicle during labor to be driven to a hospital and to be able to find my center in an unfamiliar hospital room with equally unfamiliar people coming into and out of my room, including the doctor that I'd spent 6-10 minutes with on no more than twenty occa…