“Nosce te ipsum”

“Nosce te ipsum”; a phrase I had penciled onto a piece of paper and taped to the wall next to my desk my freshman year of college. The Latin phrase literally translates to English as “Know thyself”. I have since lost that piece of paper but, have not forgotten the phrase. If only my 18 year old self had known then what I know now and that is you will lose yourself many times in life. 

Sound daunting? Absolutely. There are few absolutes in this life but, losing one’s self is going to be one of them. I have lost count how many times it has happened and so will you. I’m not the type of person that will avoid a good pruning. You are probably wondering what that even means. Think of the four seasons and the trees we marvel at during those seasons. A tree must lose its leaves which give it it’s beauty and appearance of vitality so it can withstand the winter and come spring, form new growths. Just like the inevitable seasons of our life, the branches and leaves become stripped from our life exposing the trunk which keeps us standing. This is where you get to ask the question “what am I made of?”. The answer to that question lies in how well you handle the inevitable pruning of our souls during life’s seasons. For my children, I use the analogy of “The Three Little Pigs”. You know the story I’m sure. But, for children to know early on that strength and endurance build character and not what brand they wear or who they are related to, is one of the most important lessons you will ever teach them.

As a mother in the modern world, trying to raise two little boys is no easy task. It is easy to lose yourself in the mundane, every day tasks that go with being a mother and a wife. That is why it is important to, as a parent or not, remember that YOU matter. Your needs matter. Your health matters. Yes, you have responsibilities in this life, we all do. But, don’t lose sight of the joy you, yourself, add to those responsibilities. Your joy will inspire others to find their joy.

I will be completely honest. Lately, I have lost myself in the appeasement of others. I have always struggled with saying “no”. I do not like to let others down. But, we all have to remember we are not responsible for the happiness and joy of others. Would you rather be respected or be known as “the nice pushover”? Because those two people rarely are the same. I appreciate the opportunity given by those who have put me in the position requiring me to reflect on my self-worth giving me the courage not to lose myself in living for others. All those opportunities remind me to “know thyself” and respect myself as well. In what ways have you lost yourself and in what ways did you grow from those experiences? I’d love to know.

Peace.

 

Game Changer – Teamwork Makes the Dream Work

I can’t remember ever not being in pain but, I was four or five years old when I first woke up in such pain that I couldn’t open my hands. I would wake up to one of my parents massaging them so they could open through the pain and stiffness. Open. Close. Open Close. Sometimes biting my pillow because the pain was so great. This became my morning routine for years to come. The notion that this was abnormal never crossed our minds because there wasn’t quite the awareness for juvenile rheumatoid arthritis almost thirty years ago as there is now. But, yet we persisted with this morning routine because the longer time went on, the higher my pain tolerance grew.

“Focus on the ball. Stand with knees bent. Look forward at the fairway. Look back down at the ball. Loosen up those elbows. Common…loosen up those elbows. Why aren’t my elbows loosening up?”, I’d thought to myself before giving a ball hell on the golf course. It was around seven or eight years old when I realized the problem wasn’t just in my hands anymore. It also affected my layups in basketball and my throw in softball. I remember being a feisty little girl on the ball field, the basketball court and the golf course, well…that was more my zen. I loved playing sports but, we didn’t know why I had such pain and stiffness and I was often told “Common kid, push through!” or “Buck it up, shorty/Hoss!”, so I did. I became tough as hell with a pain tolerance like you wouldn’t believe but, it didn’t help my sports game because I was often benched for missed shots or throws that didn’t quite make it as far anymore because the pain and stiffness became worse as the seasons progressed. I took it on the chin and diverted my attention elsewhere and onto other things while still playing those sports but, only choosing one to focus on so as not to cause too much pain while doing other things that didn’t cause pain.
I grew up in a neighborhood made up entirely of boys and one other girl, not including my sister, who also loved to meet me in the yard for intense sessions of catch and playing “battery” as catcher while she practiced fast pitch. We broke a few windows and even my hand once. But, the boys…now they were a fun bunch. They introduced me to skateboarding, long-boarding and skiing. All of these things were wonderful because it allowed me to have some freedom under my belt while still staying active and there is nothing quite like feeling the ground underneath you zoom past you while enjoying beautiful scenery. It’s freeing and almost a spiritual experience in a way. It was also around this time I learned to play the drums and another neighborhood boy, Zach, also played the drums. It hurt my elbows and hands so bad but, on those days when I didn’t hurt as much, to feel that rhythm rip out of my hands and jam with Zach was as therapeutic as any medicine any doctor probably could have prescribed. My mom was a music and operatic voice teacher, so I grew up on everything from Bach to the Beatles. With that, music became my solace no matter how painful it was to play because music, or any art form for that matter, allows you to transform any pain (or any emotion), physical or emotional, into the most beautiful expression of love for others to hear and that all can relate to. At 29 years old, I’m still playing those drums and I think that’s important. I’m even teaching my sons.
“You’re too young for arthritis”, the orthopedist said as he examined my hands. I was 16 years old and I was finally at my wits end. “Why do my hands hurt so bad? They are starting to look crooked and I can’t even bend them for half the morning.”, I told the doctor. “I don’t know but, you are too young for arthritis. Sometimes people just have loose joints that make their hands look like that.” was the only explanation he could provide. I had been asked to play golf and softball for my high school and I had to turn them down because I had pain in my hands and elbows I couldn’t explain. So, I figured I better get my “issue” checked out. Again, I took the doc’s words on the chin, went back to school, told the teams I couldn’t join because “I just hurt, I don’t know why, I just hurt”. One friend said “You can play outfield.” I told her, “I’m not an outfielder and plus, doing all the drills are going to probably cause more pain and I don’t know why I hurt in the first place. Dr ****** said I am too young for arthritis but, it just makes no sense why my hands hurt and my fingers are going crooked at 16 years old!” We let it rest and we didn’t revisit it for another 8 years. I joined the Speech and Debate team instead and made it to State three times.
Eight years later, I was married with one son and when our second son, Tony, was born, it was a whirlwind of trauma for both my husband and I. He didn’t know if he was going to have to plan our newborn son’s funeral or if he was going to be able to hold his son for the first time with a smile on his face as he followed the ambulance from Butte to Missoula’s NICU. Tony was born with TTN (Transient Tachypnea of the Newborn), NRDS (Neonatal respiratory distress syndrome/surfactant deficiency), both of which led to pneumonia in the third day of his life. I had a fairly easy pregnancy despite a random spike in my thyroid levels which had my OB baffled but, nonetheless, it was uneventful, and we were to expect a healthy baby boy. When that did not happen, and he was whisked away, I figured my body was just rebelling in stress to the cesarean, not being able to breastfeed him right away (I wasn’t able to join him for four days due to having to heal from the c-section and a spinal headache that required a blood patch). But, as time went on, it became obvious that it wasn’t just “stress” it was something far more sinister. I couldn’t open my hands again, I could barely walk across a room, I couldn’t hold a coffee mug. I could barely bend my elbows or lift my arms. My knees were so full of fluid that they looked like softballs. The worst part was that I couldn’t hold my newborn baby. He was on oxygen for his issues once we got him home, so it was vital that I be able to pull his oxygen and carry him simultaneously. Not to mention, we had a 21-month year old on top of all this who still needed his Mommy because let’s face it, not only are toddlers not independent, they are incredibly mischievous.
This pain was debilitating. It was like seeing God face to face and when I finally mentioned it to my family doctor we started me on prednisone. When the swelling and pain went down with the burst of prednisone he called me right away and said “We need to get you into a rheumatologist! This must be autoimmune! Let’s run some labs first before we send you.” I remember crouching in a chair, scared, shaking and crying after getting off the phone. “Autoimmune!? What the f**k!? I’m 24!!”. My wonderful husband had just gotten home from work he sat beside me and I slid into his lap and said “I’m too young for this Chris! We just got out of the NICU with Tony and now this!?”. He is a very calm guy. He quietly said “We’ll get through it. There’s a lot of new meds out there that were never out there before so it’ll all be okay.” This was the beginning of a long, arduous, and sickly, five-year journey.

The first rheumatologist put me on a low dose of chemo. I remember being angry about that because he didn’t explain any side effects of it (which were frightening by the way), how it worked or the importance of medication itself. I thought to myself, “I don’t have cancer, I’m really confused by this”. Anyway, I took it and proceeded to get so sick I practically lived in the bathroom for almost the next month. I called his office and he said the vomiting was “totally normal” and gave me some advice for some OTC nausea remedies. The vomiting persisted to the point where I began to get weak and take naps in the bathroom which made taking care of a toddler and newborn difficult because I had to ask for help with them just to be on the medication. I told my primary care about this and he sent me to a new rheumatologist who discovered I was allergic to that drug.
When the new rheumatologist and I met, I was in terrible amounts of pain and my labs reflected it. Over the course of the next five years we would try 6 TNF inhibitors (tumor necrosis factor inhibitors) and 1 more kind of chemo at a low dose. That is 8 different kinds of medications that take twelve weeks each to reach “therapeutic” level for you to notice positive results. The side effects of TNF inhibitors are increase risk of infections, sinus infections, development of lymphoma, any demyelinating disease, cardiac arrest or blood disorders. Chemo obviously can cause hair loss, nausea and vomiting but, increase infections, liver irritation, high blood pressure and decrease blood count. If you are already sick with arthritis that causes you to have fevers, flu-like body aches and unfathomable fatigue, I’m telling you right now, being on those drugs are nothing short of trudging through hell. I am already prone to chronic sinusitis and being in a vicious cycle of flaring, prednisone, feeling okay for a couple weeks, getting a sinus infection, crashing again, having my arthritis flare because my immune system crashed again is not only frustrating but, physically, emotionally, spiritually and financially exhausting. You begin to feel little hope anymore.

Five years into that vicious cycle and all because of my arthritis, I had to have a joint repaired in my foot, my neck fused because I broke it as a result of a fall and the arthritis being so prevalent in my neck, and four sinus surgeries. The last sinus surgery was the most extensive because we figured out my arthritis had attacked my sinuses. I never knew that could happen but, when it comes to autoimmune arthritis, all is a fair playing field. I was sent out of town and recovered nicely for about a week and a half before I caught a wicked case of double pneumonia. I was incredibly grateful at that point I hadn’t started back on any of my TNF inhibitors because the blow from the immuno-suppressive effects of that could have made my pneumonia far worse than it was, and it was already terrible. I am prone to staph and the infection found in my sinuses during surgery was staph, so I was equally as grateful that I wasn’t on those meds while recovering from pneumonia.
Let’s backtrack to about two months before my fourth sinus surgery. That’s where the game changed….
For anyone who knows me well, knows that my 2018 has been nothing short of physically brutal. I joke that where Murphy’s Law is concerned, I am a good, law abiding citizen because anything that can go wrong with me, always does because my immune system is just crap. The Annie you know as of now, those who know me well, know it’s not the Annie that started out at the beginning of the year. It’s been a beautiful transformation from a lady who would take her trials with a smile but, anxious about what lie ahead to a lady who stands up straight, shoulders back, accepting the burdens of life with a glimmer of “bring it on” in her eye. It was between that transformation that I got angry. Which is interesting, it’s not in my nature to get angry, ask anyone who knows me. It’s hard to imagine, right? I got angry because of the vicious cycle of infection and arthritis pain.

It was a moment that happened out of the blue. My phone rang and it was my doctor. I was between the incredibly discouraging moment of finding out I needed a fourth sinus surgery and waiting for the operation and my arthritis was flaring something fierce. He simply called to check up and give me a few uplifting words and see how I was doing. He treated me when I was a small child for many infections and thyroid issues and then we became reacquainted this February and since then the man has saved my life a couple times and never gives up on me; He is a saint. So, after listening to my tear-filled rant he proceeded to tell me “Okay so, I have an idea and you can take it or leave it but, I think it may really help you.” He proceeded to talk to me about a bit of research he had done on CBD and knowing how skeptical I am on taking any medications he simply said “You do your research. I’ve done mine. Just hit me with any questions and we can chat about this later and see what you think, okay? Hope is on the horizon!” After our conversation I thought to myself “Hmm…okay. I need to read up on this.”

So, I did…
After discussing with my doctor about how much to start with, I started on a dose of about 25mg twice daily for about two weeks. After those two weeks I noticed an incredible calm over me. It was like someone pressed a reset button on me and I was at baseline, like where a human *should* be. My pain was less but not down to a place where I could do many of the things I wanted to do. I know I needed to persist, though. By week three I was able to pick up my ukulele and play with minimal to no pain. I also took out my camera for some beautiful dusk shots. Which as a photographer, you need healthy joints so to be able to capture those moments and those shots from that evening are nothing short of beautiful to this day. I took my sons out to teach them how to fly fish during this week as well because my pain wasn’t so great that I was able to. The memories from then will last a lifetime. Also, at week three I increased my dose to 40mg twice daily. Week four, I remember waking up one morning and it was raining out. I got out of bed, walked to the kitchen to grab my coffee and noticed I was holding it with one hand and then dropped some strong expletives to my husband because “It’s raining outside and I’m not in pain!! I can hold this coffee mug with one hand!”

I don’t think anybody, or anything could have brought me down that day. I had never felt so great. For the first time in twenty-nine years I woke up without pain. TWENTY-NINE YEARS! I remember hugging my husband and doing what resembled Michael Jackson’s moonwalk across the kitchen floor, coffee in hand, that morning. He was as equally elated. I contacted my doctor and told him my good news. We chatted later about how *truly* amazing it was. It was during this conversation I realized, and I think my doctor did too, that if CBD oil works on me and my complex case, it could work on anybody! Not only do I have autoimmune arthritis and the chronic joint pain and stiffness associated with it, I have nerve pain from previous injuries, chronic migraines and other types of headaches. I also struggle with anxiety that the CBD has helped tremendously as well.

As I said, this year hasn’t been a kind one in a physical sense previous to the point of being able to get my feet on the playing field and head in the game. I feel as though for a while, I was football that needed guarded with immense protection and the players on the field were my team of doctors. They’d get into position, tightly and safely cradling me under their arm between plays, sometimes tossing me to each other for decisions to be made and all the while, I have been kept safe. Sometimes, between plays they’d need to huddle up and implement forthcoming game plans with the understanding that the game may change therefore, we’d put further plans in place then and there. Teamwork. It has been teamwork at its finest. There came a time this year, about a month or two before my latest surgery that I decided, I had to make the conscious choice, to not be the football anymore, though. I wanted to take an active part on this playing field. That’s when my demeanor changed towards the entire “game” of my health.

It was when I was told by my doctor that I needed to meditate, and I was challenged with the question “What do you have to stress about?” when I expressed to him how frustrated I was with my arthritis flaring while waiting for my surgery. “Seriously. What do you have to stress about, Annie? You are being taken care of. You have people that love and support you. You’ve got this. You just have to get your head in the game. All this stress is really just a head game. You need to meditate and then this stress won’t seem like stress.” I thought long and hard about what he said. I went home and did some deep breathing, “I have stress but, stress doesn’t have me.” I kept repeating that mantra. I did this every morning to start each day. Pretty soon I started changing these meditations up from that mantra to things like “I have pain but, pain doesn’t have me”. When I made this life-changing decision to include these mantras in my morning meditations, I feel was able to get my head in the game as an active-participant with my health without having to fear the doctors themselves and be confident in the decisions we were making as a team knowing that no matter the outcome, I would be just fine. I’ve had some pretty bad experiences with doctors, so my fear of doctors was incredibly deep seated and doesn’t need to be elaborated on other than it is nothing short of a miracle that I can actually have a working, symbiotic relationship with everyone being a team player, respecting and accepting each other’s backgrounds, opinions, thoughts and personalities as valuable assets to working on my complex case. That is exceptional teamwork and is what every patient should strive for in their relationships with their medical care teams. This working relationship would soon lead to one of the most life-changing decisions we could have ever made in terms of my health.

“I am scared ****less to see one more rheumatologist and hear them tell me I have to be on these meds that cause all these scary side effects and that cause infection after infection when my immune system is already down. I feel pushed into doing so much I don’t want to do! Look at me right now, I’ve got another one!(referring to a sinus infection) I feel like I’m punching at the air. If the CBD is working, do I have to be on that crap that makes me sicker?”, I told my doctor as I sat in his office feeling defeated after I had just gotten over a bout of the stomach flu lasting 4 days and now presenting symptoms of another sinus infection. He explained to me all the long-term effects of the TNF-inhibitors and low doses of chemo I had been on and that in Europe, CBD is often prescribed as a standard treatment for many health issues. We discussed my fears and how I am too young to need to worry about having to worry about the long-term effects of these HEAVY DUTY drugs I was so used to pumping in my system. We covered the topic that most doctors of that magnitude are not going to support what regimen we have going. We talked about how the fact that if the CBD is working better than any other medicine I have tried in five years, and I tried 8 of them, why mess with a good thing? And lastly, how incredible my case was because with all my complexities. I thought to myself, “If the CBD would be effective for my severe an issue that has been around since childhood and shown obvious improvement, imagine what it can do for others?” Finally, an answer. I don’t HAVE to do something I don’t want to do that’s going to damage my body in the long run if what is working right now keeps working. Lord knows we have a lot of room to play with dosage.

Do you know what a relief it is to be given an out from trips to a doctor every 3 months where you nervously wait to be poked, prodded, asked question after question about how the pain is limiting your life and being told things such as “Well, if that hurts then don’t do that” but, not to be given a solution and felt like my only solution is to go along with the protocol of whatever my insurance will pay for according to my diagnosis. Then, after each appointment I would have to get a good bit of blood drawn which is never fun but, I have tiny veins, so I could always guarantee being a pin cushion by the time I walked out of there. At twenty-nine years old, those appointments began to become demeaning because I felt like not only was I not getting anywhere with my arthritis treatment in five years but, that I would walk out of there ever reminded of things I was no longer empowered to do because my arthritis and infections were getting worse. It sort of strips you of your identity in many ways; And it didn’t do it overnight, this entire situation robbed me of chunks of my life bit by bit.

I have many hobbies. I love to hike, golf, disc-golfing, am a photographer, a percussionist, I ski and snowboard, love to sketch and paint, I fly-fish, and cooking gourmet meals with my husband. Little by little these things were scratched off my list as things I could no longer do in the past five years. This year though, I have been able to add every single one back to my life except for skiing and snowboarding, simply because the runs haven’t open up yet. But, you better believe I have a season pass. Most importantly though, do you know the feeling of finally being able to pick up your child and hug them when you weren’t able to do that before and instead had to bend at the waist and give what anyone would likely call a half-hearted hug to their child? Do you know the feeling of finally being able to zip your child around the living room on your back while making silly noises when you weren’t able to give them piggy back rides before? Do you know the feeling of being able to get down on your knees and play dinosaurs, trucks, or lego with your child and be able to get up without a hand-up whereas you would have previously needed a hand as well as let out a sharp gasp from pain?

I’m not saying I don’t have pain. I am more mindful of where my pain sits now than ever before and what I am saying is that it is nowhere NEAR where it was. I still can have several bad days pop up out of nowhere and still call myself a human barometer. However, if I can go from being that child who bit her pillow in pain while trying to open her hands at five years old, you have hope with your chronic pain just as well as I did, no matter your age. We didn’t discover my arthritis until I was 24. We didn’t start me on the CBD until I was 29. Look at me now. There. Is. Hope. Utilize your best resources and use your voice. Do not ever let any doctor (or anyone for that matter) force you into any situation you don’t feel comfortable with. And if you can, surround yourself in a support system and care team that not only becomes your working teammates but, also your best cheer-squad. If you can, find a doctor who will be a champion for your health that you trust and can cover any ground with. It is life-changing when you decide to just walk through the doors that were already open to you. But, you have to make the decision, with courage, to do that. You have the power to change your situation. Be your best advocate but, most of all be a game-changer. You never know which spectators need your perspective, tenacity, strength, confidence, discipline, and your desire to be better than you were yesterday.

 

“Still, Still, Still”

I was in the mood to listen to Christmas music the other morning. So, with my coffee in hand I made myself comfortable in the recliner to relax and drink my coffee and spoke out loud: “Alexa…play me Christmas music by Robert Prizeman.” For those that haven’t heard of him, he is a composer who has written beautiful works of music but, especially Christmas music and it is all sung by a young boys’ choir named Libera. (You should listen to them…they’re AHH-MAZING) The first notes ring through our speaker and I pause…no…I froze. I instantly think of my mom sitting in her green chair, coffee beside her, with the same song “Still, Still, Still” coming through her speakers during winter mornings. She always woke up early to do her morning readings and prayers, basically to enjoy the silence of the day before the chaos of working 3 jobs. The irony of me being frozen in my chair while the title of the song being “Still, Still, Still” flowed through my speakers was anything but, a wonderful experience because before I knew it was reduced to a puddle of tears and I am not a crier. Amazing, isn’t it? One song can flood your heart and mind with a memory of someone and you remember exactly where you or they were when you would hear that song play. There is nothing wrong with missing someone. There is nothing wrong with crying about it once in a while. There is definitely something wrong when you refuse to acknowledge that it’s okay to have those uncomfortable feelings because “It’s Christmas-time and you can’t be real for the sake of being jolly”. This is a serious problem in our world, especially with women.

We’ve all been there, smiling because that’s what we “should” do or because that’s what is expected of us but, on the inside you are sitting there freaking out. You can be in a room full of people and look like you’re holding it together but, what you wish you could say to them is “Help me!”, “I need a break!”, “I’m afraid”, “I’m uncomfortable” or whatnot but, you sit there and smile instead, talking about the latest adorable craft pins you saw on your friend’s Pinterest just the other day. But, at what expense are we compromising our feelings when we aren’t honest with ourselves, our family, and our friends? There have seemed to have been a bundle of uncomfortable situations lately where it seems God wants me to grow in one way or another and I am faced with the opportunity to face my feelings, head on with 100% honesty and I’m getting better at it but, it’s not easy. And how will our children learn how to face the world if we do not teach them that things are uncomfortable, they will need help, they will be afraid at times, and they will need breaks at times? If they are not uncomfortable, they cannot learn to build character. If they don’t ask for help, how will they learn humility? If they aren’t ever afraid, how will they conquer new skills? If they don’t take a break at times, they will wear themselves out and run themselves thin. These lessons are important to learn from an early age and the best place to learn them is in the home and we as parents, especially mothers, are the best ones to give that gift to our little ones through the gift of being real with everyone around us. Now, I’m not saying “Be a drama queen and wear your heart on your sleeve” but, show your children that feelings, whether they are positive or negative are still feelings and should be validated and experienced. There is a huge social expectation on us, as mothers and women in general, to be happy and “on point” all the time and that simply isn’t a reality that is attainable when you look at the bigger picture of all the demands of motherhood itself. So, let’s be real.

The whole “if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say nothing at all” phrase is a crock of crap if you ask me. Sometimes what you need to say is the truth and sometimes the truth isn’t pretty but, sometimes the truth helps us grow. Sometimes the “not nice” thing is acknowledging those not so pretty aspects of life so you can move through them and on from them. You can’t tap dance around the truth. If someone is unkind to you, acknowledge it, don’t dwell on it, and move on. If a loved one passes away, grieve it, feel it, stay in those feelings as long as you need (there’s no time limit on grief) and move forward whenever you feel fit. If you break up with your boyfriend/girlfriend, same deal. If you are stressed out by your kids and you need help, there is nothing wrong with saying “Help me!”. It’s when you start isolating yourself from your child(ren) and loved ones that your feelings have become manifest in an unhealthy way.  You have to acknowledge your feelings, there’s no other way around it. Our dinner table is a place where anything goes. Our boys know they can bring anything to the table, ask anything and we talk about a wide array of subjects when we have our family dinners each night. The family dinner table is a great and safe medium to bring those feelings out. I don’t know what it is about the dinner table but, it’s as though it just beckons you to an honest front to those around you and loosens you up. If you don’t do family dinners with your spouse and child(ren) in the evenings, I implore you to consider doing so. The communication it brings is beautiful.

I know the Holidays are difficult for many of you. It has a tendency to stir up a whole pot of emotions for many people this time of year. You miss loved ones and you want to cherish the memories you had with them and you likely feel guilty for missing them but, you still miss them. That’s completely normal. Or perhaps you are away from your family this year? If you are, I’m sorry. Maybe that is a great opportunity to reach out to another person who could use someone else like you who understands those feelings? What’s important is that you put names to your emotions. Just the other week I cried (again…I’m not a crier…I know, real convincing, right?) that we had to cancel our family photo session because I was too sick. We had never had family photos done in the almost 8 years we’ve been married and my son just came to my side and gave me a hug. I try not to let my children see if something is bothering me but, that day it just did. My son gave me the gift of compassion in that moment. All these little moments are moments of learning for them. If we can’t be real with them, they simply can’t learn. And if they can’t learn, then we need to reevaluate our role as parents. Our world needs people who have feelings now than ever and it has to start at home.

“Totus Tuus”…and you are mine.

My little legs swinging off the edge of the pew, I lean forward and look over to see my grandmother and her sister , my great aunt, on their knees pushing the beads through their hand with their thumb and index finger as they mouthed the words to the rosary. They were always there early enough to get at least a decade of the rosary in and it was always enchanting to watch them. Mass began, kneelers went up, they sat down and the rosaries went back in their purse. And this was my earliest memory of falling in love with and wanting to adore Mary, Queen of Heaven, Mother of God.

“Totus Tuus” was St John Paul II’s apostolic motto, meaning “totally thine/yours” in Latin. He had such deep love and adoration for Mary, originating in the great writings of St. Louis de Montfort. I was born in 1989 when he(Pope John Paul II) was on the rise as one of the most important world figures and anyone who was going through their most formative years during his 26 year pontificate was known as the JP II Generation. In the post Cold War era, Pope John Paul II brought the world charisma, peace, hope, and greatness when tensions were quite high on a global scale and his diffuse was unmatched by any international leader. Though he has since passed on and amazingly enough been beatified and declared a saint by the Catholic Church, he and his motto “Totus Tuus” has been one of my guides for all seasons in my life.

Just as I remember when I first fell in love with Jesus’ mother, I vividly remember diving deep into the the life of St John Paul II when I was a freshman in college where I was fighting a mountain of anxiety and the only place I could find solace was daily mass, the rosary, and what I would discover was contemplative prayer. There are many different ways to pray but, if you break it down into three categories, the rest emerge from those three. The three traditional forms of Christian prayer are vocal, meditative and contemplative. Vocal prayer is fairly self explanatory and as is meditative, which is the category the rosary and any novena prayers fall under. However, it is contemplative prayer that beckons you to trade yourself in for a moment of solitude to sit with Christ. For me it was and still is taking the time to listen to music or sit in silence for an hour or so each day and be with Him. In our busy world, it is difficult to get enough of that. As an introvert, I definitely cannot get enough of that. But, there is more to it than just sitting alone, uninterrupted, not being asked for snacks or another glass of water if you are a parent like myself. When you have anxiety or are going through difficulties and feel alone, being able to sit with Him, feel his presence and know that nothing around you in those moments matter, that is love. It is the same feeling I get when I sit with my husband doing nothing, knowing he is simply there; what comfort that brings! It was in these quiet moments, these minutes, these hours along with my heavenly Father that I got to know Him as someone who loves to spend time with me, who loves to hear how my day is going(the good and the bad), and it was then when I realized that if I didn’t have even one person (though I have many) who understood my anxiety, fears, feelings, troubles, or even anyone to share my joys with, it didn’t matter because I had Him and He has me. Or as St John Paul II beautifully said, “Totus tuus” (Totally yours).

These quiet moments alone with Him were vital to what I would encounter in the next year. I started my sophomore year of college in another bout of anxiety spending a lot of time on the receiving end of a lot of pep talks from my brother Kevin. I was working my tail off to pay my tuition and I wasn’t going to be able to make ends meet. My dreams of attending the college that I loved so dearly were in jeopardy when after daily mass one afternoon I was asked to meet with the head of campus ministry. First of all, let me say, this person already made me anxious to be around for whatever reason I don’t know but, I vividly remember thinking “Well crap! This is not what I want to be doing with my day!” So, I nervously sat down and she said “So, I’ve been contacted by someone who would like to pay your tuition. I can’t tell you who it is unless you accept the offer but, I want you to think about this offer and pray about it and get back to me.”. I could have passed out. I wanted to. Someone wanted to pay MY tuition!? Why can’t I know who this benefactor is? Who is this? I had so many thoughts running through my mind but, all I could muster was “Wow! I’m speechless! I will definitely let you know before the week is over!”.

That week I was a nervous wreck because I wanted to know who would care about me and my education enough to pay for it. After much prayer and contemplation, I decided to go accept the offer. When I found out who was offering me the scholarship, I realized how even more amazing it was. This was a person who didn’t know me from Eve and I certainly didn’t know him but, he valued my charisma for education, faith, and the college itself. So I was able to continue my education for a few more weeks until the unthinkable happened. One morning after class I went up to my room to retrieve a hat from my fourth floor dorm room, for what reason I don’t know but, the fact that I did was important. Upon leaving the dorm and heading down the stairs, somehow I fell down the concrete steps and wound up with significant injuries to my spine, shoulder and head. Being the stubborn person that I am and being in a state of shock, I got up, walked to the nearest building and asked someone for “a bandaid”. Little did I know I needed a lot more than “a bandaid”. Days passed and I could no longer shake off the pain. I decided to go to the ER when my mom convinced me that me crying because I was having trouble breathing warranted being checked out. The ER physician referred me to an orthopedic doctor whom upon our first meeting, his words were “Had you come to me about 24 hours later and you’d have been dead or operating a wheelchair through a straw for the rest of your life young lady. Do you realize how fortunate you are to be alive? Many people don’t survive the injuries you have. They just don’t.” So, why did I? And why did I cut it that close? Remember when I said all those quiet moments I had with God were vital to what I would encounter in the coming years? Hindsight is always 20/20. I thought anxiety was a lot to deal with? Hell…I had no idea what was coming my way sophomore year, did I? Did I know I was going to need His hope? No. Did I know I was going to need His divine intervention? No. Did I know I was going to need his peace? No. Did I know I was going to need his fortitude? No. But, once I got there it all made sense and none of it mattered because I was totally His.

In the midst of all that I met the man I would eventually marry. Meeting him was the biggest surprise of all because I wasn’t searching for him like I was searching for God in those moments of contemplative prayer. Psalm 37:4 says: “Be happy with the LORD, and he will give you the desires of your heart.”. In all those moments of weakness through my recovering from my horrible accident, you’d think depression and anxiety would have befallen me but, strangely enough it was quite the opposite. I felt an overwhelming peace and happiness in God because I knew I was taken care of. And in the midst of all that, my would-be husband was there delighting in the Lord and his goodness alongside me. When you are recovering from a head injury, you spend a lot of time in darkness. So, in the darkness Chris(my husband) and I sat next to each other and though we barely could see each other, we would talk for hours about our lives and we got to know each other as friends before we really entered a romantic relationship a few months later. It felt as though in those moments, in the darkness, His light shone through in what was blossoming to become a beautiful relationship between me and my would be husband. Most people get to know each other in a way that allows them to fall in love with each other’s physical self before falling in love with each other’s heart but, it was as though the Lord knew the only way to his daughter’s heart was through His heart, so in those quiet moments in that dark room, my husband and I fell in love with each other’s souls before we ever fell in love with each other’s faces. In today’s world, that seems so backwards. But, my heavenly Father had high expectations for his daughter and had to make sure they were met.

This year, my husband and I will have been married 7 years. Not too long but, long enough to have been through quite a bit together as a couple. Together we have faced many challenges and together we have overcome them. We have given life to two beautiful sons and love loving and raising them. Many things have changed in these seven years, too. The person I deem closest to me other than my husband, my mom, has since joined a monastery where she, too, participates in a contemplative lifestyle. She is now a nun in a what is called a “cloister” which means they have little contact with the outside world. They take vows of chastity, obedience and poverty. This means that in her commitment to her contemplative lifestyle, my relationship with His mother has become even stronger. When Christ was on the cross and he looked down at his mother ,Mary and his disciple, John, he spoke the words “Son, behold your mother. Mother, behold your son.”. In that poignant moment in human history, Christ gave us, the Church and his children, His mother! Jesus, even in his dying moments cared for His mother and for us! He knew the grief of his mother and a child ! I, as a child of a mother whom I have limited contact with, take great solace in the fact that I have a heavenly mother that adores and cares about me, too!  This is why, as a mother, as a daughter and as a wife, I can look at the tenets of Marianism and contemplative prayer knowing that I am never alone in all that I am and all that I do. His divinity is what breathes life into everything I am. I am totally His and the love of both a heavenly Father and Mother is beyond the divide of any concepts that our mind can grasp. It can only be experienced and in hindsight, seen. Totus tuus.

No, I cannot be your God.

“I’m just done, I’m burning out”, I said to my husband as I sat on his lap and began to rest my head on his shoulder. We had just returned from his work Christmas party where we brought our sons bowling, they met Santa, and overall had a great time. “I’m really angry that I can’t enjoy these times because I’m in so much f***ing pain I want to crawl in a hole and scream.” Now, is this a side I let others see of me? Absolutely-freaking-not. The gap between what you see vs. what is really happening in my life is wider than you think and I think most people can relate to that.
My mom always used to joke about the fact that I had a public persona that she called “Plastic Ann”. Plastic Ann is happy all the time, doesn’t struggle and in fact, has all the time in the world to take on the problems of the world and others. But, behind closed doors she knew that “Plastic Ann” would turn back into a normal human being with the typical struggles and emotions of a fallible human being. Now, we all have a public persona of some sort and to some degree and depending on our professions we are expected to have a persona to appease the demands of the public. I don’t know where I learned to be “plastic Ann” but, I know growing up I admired my father for being able to suit up and go to work as a funeral director, comfort others in his calm and stoic manner then, parent us. As I grew older, I seemed to be able to be that face for others and I’ve learned that is an attractive trait to have however, it is easily taken advantage of when other’s poor planning lands at your front door or floods your phone in what they label an “emergency”. And what happens when your job is being a stay at home mom and wife whose public persona is that of a person who is loved but, not respected? Well, we will dive into that shortly.
“No” is a word that I got very comfortable saying this past year. It was like drinking vinegar while saying it, though. It tasted awful but, once it went down I knew it was doing my body good. Vinegar is known to improve cardiovascular health and lower blood pressure (Today’s fun fact!). So, the reason I use vinegar as my analogy is that every time I said “No, sorry. I am unable to watch your offspring today”, “No, sorry I don’t want to join your pyramid scheme or listen to your pitch”, “No. I can’t afford to at the present time”, “No, we do not want to join your church, we are happy being Catholic. Yes we are still Christian. No, we don’t need your saving. Thank you for your prayers”…and any other rebuttal to someone’s need for me, is that before I became comfortable saying no, it did my heart absolutely no good to be at everyone’s beck and call. People saw something different in ‘Plastic Ann’ than they deserved and I have been doing people absolutely no favors (catch that irony?) in not providing people with the genuine self that I provide to my closest circle of friends.
As an introvert, it’s hard but, I also have this fun, what I like to call ‘character defect’, that I can honestly say I got over this past year, called APPEASEMENT. I used to think that if I rode the waves of people’s moods and gave them what they needed, they would be kind to me. Sure…but, did they respect me? Absolutely NOT. So, I have been swallowing the vinegar by the spoonfuls this past year in refusing to appease people’s need of me, disagreeing when needed, and to be honest, seeing their face and hearing their reaction is amusing, which probably doesn’t make me the best Christian. However, it’s them figuring out that there is no more “Plastic Ann” and that what they thought they knew about me, isn’t me at all. It’s them figuring out that they cannot use me anymore. It’s them finding out that there are boundaries to their behavior that if I don’t place with them, nobody will. These spoonfuls of ‘No’s’ have done my heart a lot of good. My level of anxiety is lower and overall, I have more time for my family, which if you know me, my family is everything to me. To be honest, I was angry at myself for allowing them rob me of my time with my family. I allowed them to walk all over me.
This past Fall and now, Advent season, has brought about a new birth within my heart. A birth which was not without the labor pains of a soul shedding its former layers like the leaves of autumn fall so that come spring, its roots may flourish into a tree that no longer droops but, stands tall and can withstand the demands of the wind and rain. When I was a child, one of my favorite books was Shel Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree”. The line “And the tree was happy…but, not really”, sums up my heart for the past few years. I have a giving soul. I love to give, give, give. But, if you remember that in the book, the tree wound up being nothing but a stump, albeit a happy one, at the end of her life. Well, when I reached my burnout Sunday night I realized I was starting to reach the point of a stump prematurely because I was stretching myself too fast, too often. I found myself falling back into the pattern of saying “Yes, I’ll do that”, when in my mind I thought to myself “Well, shit! I can barely take care of my kids today and this medicine has me so nauseated the last thing I want to do is that”. I am not exactly sure why I fell back into that pattern but, onward I pushed and that’s where my husband found me Sunday night, burnt out and about ready to turn into stump that couldn’t give anymore of herself.
I am not a typical stay at home parent. I have a chronic autoimmune illness, paoriatic arthritis, and it is a royal pain in the ass. If i dont treat it the effects are debilitating. It’s annoying and incredibly inconvenient because I like to take life full speed ahead with such vivacity that the only thing you are left with after an encounter with me is, I hope, is a smile. I will never “get better” as people say in their well wishes, bless their hearts. Sometimes a smile is all i have to offer but, on the inside I am wondering when I can get home to cuddle up with an ice pack. Definitely your typical “cuddle buddy” for a busy mom on the go, is it? So, you can imagine the demands of mothering two young children while making regular trips to my specialist where we talk about where we are in the course of my treatment, how “twisty” my joints are looking, which disease we want to treat most of the time, and discussing the labwork that seems to stare back at me, demeaning my age and aspirations… it’s exhausting. I burned out because I didn’t rest, I didn’t say “no” when I should have, I didn’t ask for help when my joints were hurting from pushing through each day. I was turning back into “plastic Ann” and I became heart sick.
Moms….Dads….a burnout is NOT a normal part of parenthood. It is not a glamourous thing to discuss within that circle of moms you meet at the mall play area who look like they “have it all together”. It happens in shallow waves. It happens in small doses of “Yes, I’ll take that on”, too many times. It’s where the phrase “the straw that broke the camel’s back” came from. And P.S. -Nobody has it all together. Stop placing unnecessary demands on yourself and others and pretending to have it all together. If you see a parent struggling, ask how you can help. If you see a parent ask for help, it may have taken them a lot of courage to get to that point. If you are like me and incredibly stubborn, asking for help is the biggest blow to your independence you can imagine. But, it’s a humbling one. And did you know that giving a piece of yourself to others when you actually have the reserved energy to do so is a beautiful feeling, not for yourself but, for the other person. It can actually physically help the other person to feel better. I know where many of you are at this holiday season and how you feel you are on the brink of breaking. Don’t be like me and be so damn stubborn that you are not able to grace others with the beauty of giving themselves to help. A friend recently brought her family into our home to cook for us one evening and it was such a wonderful feeling to let go and be weak. To be weak is not a bad thing, it is an incredible act of humility, surrender, and strength and allowing someone else to be your strength is divine. First, lean on the Lord and he will provide for you those who are meant to hold you up. Second, in doing so pay attention to your needs. You cannot fill from an empty cup. We are not God…that would be exhausting! Can you imagine being him? I can’t. During this Christmas season I hope you can all meditate on the fragility that is your life and also, the life of the Lord’s. Think how he came into this world not knowing he was going to have to take on the problems of the world. It is not our job. He is God and we are not. You should find relief in repeating that each day. I hope that during this season you may grow in God’s grace to allow your heart to flourish in the humility to let go of what you cannot handle and the strength to carry what you can. Again, I repeat…if you are struggling, do not be afraid to reach out…do not let yourself burn out…and remember God is God, you are not. Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Yule and have a blessed new year!

“How DO you do it?”

Wouldn’t it be nice if life had a manual with all the solutions to any potential problems you could ever face in life? You know, like something Fredrick Frankenstein found in his grandfather’s private library that revealed secrets of giving animation to lifeless people? One can dream, right? Like the many lessons I’ve learned through the years, the movie Young Frankenstein always speaks to me in my darkest hours. Humor is how I have always coped and recently an encounter made me face the reality of my unique situation as a young mother and wife; One that you may not be facing yourself but, hopefully one you can learn courage and strength in the face of whatever adversity or troubles you may be facing.

“How DO you do it?” is a question I often face. Surely all mothers wonder this about themselves, right? So, how do you answer it, though? I recently had an encounter with an individual who in conversing, asked me many questions about how I go about my day without throwing the towel in the bag and giving up. Well, I never know how to respond to that question, to be honest. But, this time I laughed nervously while drumming my fingers on the leather arms of my chair and said “I don’t know but, humor helps.”. As I got in my car and drove away I began to really ponder the question I was just asked. Why? Because I’m an over-thinker, that’s why. Always thinking. Always wondering. My mind feels like it has a running commentary ALL. THE. TIME.

“Enjoy the ride”, a phrase I remember my father penned on a letter to me for a retreat long ago, instantly falls into the forefront of my mind. Angrily, I think to myself, “How can I enjoy the ride when I am 26 years old and fighting autoimmune diseases that makes my young body feel 80 years old?”. So, I humorously start to talk to God as if I am Tevye from Fiddler on the Roof. “Really? You REALLY think I can handle all this? If this is how you treat those you love, no wonder nobody wants to be your friend! You have a twisted sense of humor up there. I’m getting real sick and tired of your crap!” Angry at God? Hell yeah I was! And you know what? That’s okay because, He, of anyone, can take it. We all have our moments of anger. Even Christ got angry. The main thing to remember, though, is to keep your anger in check and make sure it is righteous anger. That means, prioritizing what you choose will get to you. Someone cut you off in traffic or make your latte with too much foam? Get over it. That’s small potatoes. Life is going to be really miserable for those that decide to get upset over such trivial things, capiche? Now, someone hurts your feelings? You can still choose to brush it off. But, their criticism, whether it be constructive or not, will always be a good launching point to learn how to treat others. Let’s take it up a notch, shall we? You’re trying to play with your children and your knee gives out from beneath you and you fall to the ground giving out a yell that scares your children. How about the moment your doctor tells you “I’d like to start you on a low dose of chemotherapy to see if it will put your autoimmune disease into remission” and you spend the coming months having to turn down any social engagements because you don’t know how close a bathroom will be in the event that the chemo you are on makes you vomit? It’s those evenings you go to bed crying because you can’t lift your children for 3 months because you just had a spinal fusion to save you from potential paralysis. Know anyone with these challenges? I do. I have faced EVERY. SINGLE. ONE. But, I haven’t faced them alone and that is why I don’t lose faith and sight of the beauty of that which is life.

“Give my creation LIIIIIIFFFFFFEEE!”

Sometime’s I feel like “Froderick” as he stood over his creation yelling “Give my creation LIIIIIIFFFFFFEEE!” as I get up in the morning. I try not to question why I have the “luck” with my health that I do as I am just as annoyed with it, if not more annoyed, than anyone else. All that matters is the how; How is the best way to approach breakfast this morning?, How should I go about potty training a 2 year old who is afraid a toilet will eat him?, How shall I go about the housework today and fit in grocery shopping, playing with the kids, and running those endless errands? How should I go about treating the amount of pain I am in today? Nobody is responsible for how you go about handling your day to day questions, struggles, and situations but, you. You are ultimately responsible for how you react to everything that happens to you. You can choose to get angry, like I did before. You can choose to gracefully take every blow, big and small, in life with a grain of salt, which isn’t realistic but, good for you if you can! Life isn’t about being anxious about why everything is happening to you. It is about how you plan on taking those bulls by their giant(or small) cajones and saying “Just for today, I am going to live. Just for today, I am going to laugh. Just for today, I am going to love those who really make me angry. Just for today, I’m going to forgive those who have wronged me”.

We aren’t promised tomorrow. We are only promised today. So, the next time some barista carelessly makes your latte wrong, think to yourself “Is this fatal?”. The last time I checked a coffee made wrong hasn’t killed anyone but, perhaps the fragile heart of a pompous coffee connoisseur. And the next time you receive news that a loved one has died, cry it out. Let yourself feel. Life is to be lived. So, the next time someone asks you “How do you do it?” about whatever trials you may be facing. Joyfully respond with “I have no idea what I’m doing but, I’m doing it well” because if they are wondering how you are getting by, you are doing a good job. Pat yourself on the back, life is hard…with or without a manual.