You do what you gotta do...

A few weeks ago, we received a phone call from my husband's sister. Her son was in trouble, and the judge asked if there was anyone else he could go live. 

We were the only option, so of course we said yes. 

Can we afford this? No. Are any of us in the mental health condition to add another mentally ill person to the mix? No. Is this going to be easy? Hell no!

But he's here, and we will do the best we can. 

Today marks one week. One veryyyy longggg weekkkk. In this week, we've dealt with things that neither of us have dealt with before, dealt with temper tantrums that Kali left behind when she was 5, fought with principals, read records from the last 5 years from his school, cried a little, laughed a little, but mostly, just wanted to fly to Michigan to kick my SIL's ass. 

Seriously. Kids don't end up like this without help from their parents. My heart hurts for this kiddo. 

So if you are the praying type, please pray, or just send good juju, because we need all of it that we can get. This has been very triggering for me, since my mom adopted me from my aunt. It has been stressful on Kali and her friend, Aiden, that has been staying with us, just because there are too many people in our house. Jasen and I have struggled in our marriage, because we are both struggling with adapting to the changes, and aren't completely sure how to parent a kid with ODD. 

What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, right?  

World Suicide Prevention Day

With each year, my memories of him fade. He was only my dad for a tiny bit, before his mental illness enveloped him and he killed himself, so the lack of memories is understandable, although guilt provoking. 

I remember crawling into his lap in the recliner. I remember riding in the back of his truck. I especially remember getting my arse spanked after I 'decorated' the new, plywood seat that he built in the back of truck, so we weren't rolling around in the truck bed, with a crayon I had in my pocket. I remember the kindness in his eyes. I remember laughter and love. 

But, I also remember the weekend he sent my brother and I to our grandparents for the weekend and that by Sunday afternoon we were living next door at my aunt's house, because he had shot himself in the living room of our house and the carpet had to be replaced. 

It was only as I grew older that I learned that just the week before my mom had tried to get him mental health help at the local hospital, only to be turned away. And I learned that he left my adopted mom a card apologizing and telling her that she was strong enough to raise us without him. 

As I've aged, I vacillated from anger that my adopted dad didn't love me enough to stick around and immense sadness that he missed so much by that decision. But most of all, I'm heartbroken that he was so desperate and mentally ill that he REALLY believed that we'd be better off without him. 

Today is World Suicide Prevention Day. If you are struggling, tell someone. If you REALLY think the world would be better off without you, ask you children, your mom, your best friend, etc. for help. Suicide is never the answer. 

A number on a scale...

I've tried to measure my weightloss journey by accomplishments & not a number on a scale, but when people ask me what I've lost, I tend to give the #, instead of listing off things that I can do now, that I couldn't do prior to the DS. 

For example, after my surgery, my Fitbit recorded <2000 steps a day & days that had 2000 steps meant I was hurting & barely able to move. Now, my good days have a minimum of 2500 steps, but like today, I had almost 6000 steps & I'm not in bed wishing I was dead. While this may not seem like much to those who hit their 10,000 a day, it's a REALLY BIG THING, to reach that many steps, in a day. In fact, my dr's were ecstatic when I reached 2500 in a day, so the fact that I've gone from <10,000 steps in a week, to > 20,000 in a week is a big thing. 

Another accomplishment has to do with purses. I hadn't carried a purse in about 2 years, because my back dr said I didn't need any other pressure on my spine & because quite frankly, carrying a purse caused more pain. After surgery, I started bringing a purse with me, but I always left it in the car. But now...I can carry my cross body purse for much of the day without pain. 

Other accomplishments: 

Today, while shopping with Meg, I realized that I can shop in the 'regular' section of a store & not just the plus-sized section. 

My feet have gone down from an 81/2-9 to an 8. The same size I was when I got prego with Meg. 

I don't HAVE to nap everyday, in order to manage my pain. Instead, I get to nap when I want to, just for the sake of napping! And let's face it, everyone loves a good nap!

I mentioned shopping earlier, but in the 2 yrs since Fibro entered my life, I have gone shopping with Meg only a handful of times. Partially because shopping is overwhelming, but also because shopping increased my pain! Today, I shopped for several hours, with her, and only started hurting towards the end! (Shopping is one of Meg's love languages, but it's really about quality time, so being able to do this is huge!) 

I can cook dinner. 

I can clean my kitchen. 

I can do laundry-ish. 

I can sit anywhere, without worry that I'm going to break someone's chair. 

There are probably more accomplishments that I'm not thinking about, but I just wanted to share a bit  about what this journey has meant to me. It's so much more than a number on a scale. 

Firbronyalgia Awareness Day

In honor of Fibro awareness day, I'd like to give y'all a glimpse into a day of a person with Fibro. 

Every morning, I wake up & do a body inventory. I move from my head to my toes, and assess my pain levels. My pain is never not there, but some days, it's better than others. 

After I've done my body check, I slowly get up and make my way into the living room. 

After I've fully woken up, drank my protein shake, and tried to figure out what level of 'getting ready,' I'm up to. I no longer can shower, shave my legs, fix my hair & make up, and get dressed in twenty minutes, and oh how I miss those days. Instead, I shower and sit on the bed for 20-30 mins to recover from showering. Then I try to find the softest clothes I can wear, because anything scratchy causes my skin to hurt. Gone are the days of cute, trendy clothes, because cute, trendy clothes hurt. After I've gotten dressed, I have to rest again. By this point, my pain is creeping up & the fatigue that comes from pain means that I no longer have the energy to fix my hair, or even put make up on. Plus, all of the resting means that I don't actually have time to do those things, because I'm about to be late to work. 

If it's a work day, I try to get to school early, so that I can park near the building, because at this point, I'm so fatigued  from the pain, that there's no way that I can carry my purse and my book bag & walk across campus. And even if I am having a good day, and can handle the morning walk, by the time I'm done with work, I won't be able to walk back across campus to get to my car. 

My work shift involves a balance between moving just enough that I don't get stiff and not so much that I anger my body. Such a delicate balance. By the time I'm done with work, I'm usually done for the day, but that's not possible. 

From there, it's time to pick up Kali & get home, to figure out dinner and such. By this time, my pain is generally between a 6-8 on the pain scale and all I really want to do is sleep. 

Thankfully, Kali does great at helping me out & will cook dinner most nights. But nothing else typically gets done, because I simply can't. Which means Jasen & the girls get the brunt of the cooking and cleaning. (If it's not a work day and I don't waste energy on showering and getting dressed, I'm more likely to accomplish chores.) 

Each night, I fall into bed and do a body assessment. There's not been a single night, that my pain level hasn't been an 8 or higher, by this point in my day. 

This is my new normal. Everyone with Fibro has a different normal. Some are worse than I am, and some are better. Each Fibro experience is different. 

Happy Fibro awareness day! I wish I was blissfully unaware of Fibro.