PanCan Awareness- My side of the story

Yeah.  Something like that.  Maybe this year I'll start by explaining our story.  

My Daddy thought he was having residual pain from an injury he had as a teenager.  His back hurt, that's all he knew.  Just a couple days before Christmas (maybe even Christmas Eve?  Some details escape me), I just knew something was up.  He was yellow and acting funny.  My parents both told me not to worry.  It would be okay.  The year was 2010.  

By his 50th birthday, January 26, 2011, he had had the Whipple procedure done.  This is when they cut out ...  I remember going to St Vincent between every single class.  I was at UALR.  I skipped a couple classes, because I just wanted to talk to him.  He didn't know, or he would've been way mad.

When he came home, he was of course weak.  They started him on chemo not too long after.  June, I believe.  He was cold.  All. The. Time. It was Summer and he would turn the heat on!  Craziness.  Also, chemo makes people grumpy.  And it's hard to be super understanding when you're worried and also confused as to why you're being yelled at for your caring.  I regret that.  I'm sure most people do.

Daddy just knew the surgery and chemo had done it.  He was good to go.

No scans showed anything.  He looked cancer-free.  However, he was steadily losing weight, hurting, couldn't eat or sleep...

They decided to do radiation and chemo again.  I moved my wedding up a year so my Daddy could walk me down the aisle.  He was my hero.  He danced with me, even when he felt like he may collapse.  I will never ever forget it.

Shortly after, he became sepsis.  I thought that was it.  He was completely out of it.  Mind you, scans were still saying clear!  His doctors were so confused.  We were, too.  The IV fluids eventually flushed him out and he came to.  It was a huge surprise and a blessing!

Life wasn't the same after, though.  Christmas wasn't the same.  He was so frail.  And still nothing in the scans.  But we knew.

A huge ice storm came through in December 2012, just 8 months after my wedding.  Daddy tried.  He tried to participate in games and laughter during the black out.  He eventually just couldn't.  

I remember looking at him, all alone in the living room.  He was like a child, curled up, frail, listening to his favorite songs.  I knew it, then.  He was too frail even to hug at that point, though.  We just had to smile.

December 2012 we went to the ER with him because he was in too much pain.  The fact that he suggested we should go meant it was bad.  He was too strong to just go for anything, even with the threat of cancer on his mind.  He never came home.

The investigative surgery he requested was his last.  They found cancer.  It had eaten him alive.  We still have no clue why it never showed up on a scan.  The surgery itself didn't kill him.  We were given an all clear, and we're ready to see him and hug him.  He aspirated on bile.  Everything stopped, then.  Well, not everything.

We had to make that decision.  My mom looked at us all, each one of us, and asked, "What do you think?"  We had to say "pull him off."  She couldn't do it herself.  We all did it, together.  And I couldn't watch.  I was the only one.  I will forever wonder.

My sister tells me it was one breath.  Just one.  And he was gone.  My brother tells me I should've been there.  I know that, though.

That night, I had waited in the waiting room to hear he was gone.  I was all alone.  My siblings had gone home.  I was awake, shaking, rocking.  Alone.  At 5a, I was finally allowed to join my mom.  At 6a I was told to call my siblings and tell them to come.  At 10a, I guess my brain just gave out.  My heart never ever will, though.

And that's it.  That's the story.  I may have been very chaotic in its telling, but the entire experience felt that way.

Life isn't every organized.  Especially during problems.  But people need an anchor.  I had pulled away from mine. It took a while to get back.  The story may have been a lot different had I not.

This story was to promote Pancreatic Cancer Awareness Month, and also to encourage any and everyone to find an anchor, and cling to it.

How to Describe It

One of my biggest struggles of all time is to explain how I am actually feeling.  Am I happy, sad, mad, depressed?  Whatever.  Look, sometimes it's just more complicated.

My experience and observation, lately, has been that I am not alone (what, what??). So, I decided to post a blog about metaphors.

1.  Running while hooked to a bungee.  

My absolute favorite.  There are times that I feel pretty awesome.  I could run a marathon, figuratively speaking, and maybe even do pretty okay.  Then, I realize I have a bungee strapped to me.  I snap back to the wall that has me tied like I never had any gain in the first place.

2.  Walking, falling into a hidden hole. Pretty self explanatory, but some still don't get it.  Depression isn't just "sad," y'all.  It's more.  It's deeper, and scarier.

3. Flying, running into an unsuspected mountain.

Yeah.  Sometimes, I'm flying.  I'm on top of the world.  I have it all together- the baby, the husband, the life, the church... And then...BAM!!  Nope.

4. Being a tiny bug that somehow ended up in the middle of a group hug.

A huge crowd doesn't mean you feel a part of it.  I find myself here lots, actually.  I can be whatever people want me to be.  But that doesn't mean I am what I need me to be.

5. Missing a step, unsuspectingly.

Know that feeling?  A gasp, a sudden panic.  It's fleeting, but still, the memory sticks.  That's anxiety.  That's social panic.

People deal with these on the daily.  I do.  And people are clueless that it's happening.  I was surprised to see that my feelings weren't all so different to some.  It's important to know this.

Never will He leave us

I have been praying for a while about finding God as I used to know Him.  I love God now, and I loved him back when I felt more confident in my walk as well.  So...what has changed?  Did He leave, or maybe just turn His attention?  Did He find new, more serious things to focus His attention on?
NO!!
The bible says, multiple times, that He will NEVER leave us nor forsake us!!  He is ALWAYS  the same.  He is our constant!!  So..have I done something wrong, to be further from Him?
What I have found is that actually, as long as my heart is still seeking after Him, He is just as close as He has always been.  He will NEVER leave, remember?!  Nothing I can do will make Him leave.  That's called Grace, y'all!!!  And no matter how fast I run, He will always be on my tail, not chastising, as so many in this world do, but loving me, directing me to His love and peace.  All I have to do is be still to know that!!  That's why I haven't been able to feel His presence.  I have let so many other "fixes" take the place of His peace.  I don't need a crowd of people, a few "guilty pleasures." I only need God.  His Spirit brings Divine Love, Joy, Peace, Patience, Kindness, Goodness, Faithfulness, Gentleness, and Self Control.  All that I've been looking for- all right there in one prayer: Send Your Spirit, Lord.

References: Deuteronomy 31, Joshua 1, Hebrews 13, Galatians 5

The cuts

Hitting it hard.  Just going for it. 

There are these people called "cutters."  The cut.  Duh.  But, why?  Who would do that?  In a society that prides itself on flawlessness, who would put flaws purposefully on their own skin?  Are they suicidal? Are they freaks? What is wrong with them?  

I actually looked it up.  The best explanation I've found was here: http://psychcentral.com/blog/archives/2009/01/05/cutting-and-self-injury/.  

Wanna know why I am so interested?  Because I used to cut.  I shy away from saying "I am a cutter" now, because, even though just tonight I was tempted, I refuse to label myself as a type.  That would mean there is no escape.

Why did I cut?  Why do I still struggle? Because I have pain.  As we most do.  I just am predispositioned to this, fell for it, and struggle now.  But am I a slave to it? NO!!!

Tonight, the temptation was brought in by a picture.  A happy picture that I took of my son.  Crazy, right?!  But I couldn't visibly see my scars anymore in the picture.  So, in my mind, I must be totally okay, right?  Well...I don't feel okay.  I feel struggle.  I feel pain.  Yes, I am happy.  I have a great life.  But am I perfect?  Flawless?  Absolutely not!  So...in my mind, I should see scars.  Especially where they have been cut.

I did not cut tonight.  Wanna know why? Because Jesus did it for me.  He took a couple nails, some real painful cuts of a whip, and a stab if a sword.  And he rose again.  For me.  I don't have to suffer.  I don't have to live in it.  God sent His son.  Jesus died for me.  I a totally not worthy of it.  But no one is.  My life is a complete mess.  And I did a lot of it.  But then Jesus.  He came.  God sent Him.  With every whip, every pounding of the nails, every gasp of breath...He thought of me. Maybe not personally...there are a ton of people in this world...but conceptually, I was there!  I am loved, even when I don't feel it by those I think should show it more..including myself, y'all.  Jesus loves me.  He LOVES me.

Update:  it is now October 19, and I have cut twice since this post.  I fall and stumble.  And yet this post is still relevant.  All because God loves me and cares for me.  Grace is all we can ask for.  We will never make it in our own.  We have to just pray and believe and keep stepping through faith, even as we struggle.  It's the only way.

Struggles

Yesterday I posted for the first time in 3 whole years!!  Big deal for me.  Mostly because I have changed!  Go figure..a woman who changes...

I am not the "share it all" type these days that I used to be.  I pick a few "lucky" (?) few and share it all.  However, what I have noticed is that many like the ice to be broken so that they can also share their true selves.  So...consider me your guinea pig, your scape goat, as it were.  I am happy to just spill if it means someone else can benefit!

Some struggle with drugs, some with alcohol, others still with food even.  Me?  My struggle is with...people?  Maybe.  Words?  Sometimes?  Feelings? Always.

I love to twist and contort words.  Word are my drug, my kryptonite.  I crave them and also abhor them.  

I am an odd being.  I am outgoing, sarcastic, up in the air, go with the flow, do whatcha wanna, yet I need control, things need to make sense, I need to talk things out.  

I am very blessed to have a great family and a great church family that "gets" me. I understand most don't get that.  

My message tonight is that, even if it hurts (I get it!) just say it.  Text it, say it in person or over the phone.  People come for a reason.  Some for a season, but ALWAYS for a reason!

Last night I finally bit the bullet and expressed what I actually was thinking.  Guess what?!  My friend was totally understanding and sent only love and honesty.  And we are much better for it!  Thank my Dear Lord!  No more wondering or dread or guilt!

I love all who are suffering and all who are just fine.  Grace covers us all.

Just a Cyclothymic Girl, Living in a Topsy-Turvy World

Cyclothymia (n.) can be described as (according to Wikipedia): a type of chronic mood disorder widely considered to be a more chronic but milder or subthreshold form of bipolar disorder. Cyclothymia is characterized by numerous mood swings, with periods of hypomanic symptoms that do not meet criteria for a major hypomanic episode,^[1] alternating with periods of mild or moderate symptoms of depression that do not meet criteria for a major depressive episode.

Translation: not quite bipolar, but also not normal.

But then again...

Normalcy (n.): Who knows?!?

I mean, really.  Even people without a diagnosis to explain their issues don't feel "normal."  There is always something missing, someone "better."  The purpose of this post (after an entirely too long hiatus) is to argue that we are all "normal" in our own right, whether diagnosed or not, medicated or not.

I have had a crazy couple of years.  Daddy died 2 years ago as if this past January, I got pregnant a year ago, my sweet baby nephew was born only to go straight to be with our Lord, and I had to watch as my brother and his amazingly strong wife suffered while my baby boy was born well.  I don't say all this for sympathy.  Yes, times have been tough, but more than anything I am amazed.  Amazed at my family's strength, amazed at God's Amazing Grace.  Have we been through some crap?  Uh, yup.  Have we been to some dark places?  Well, I certainly have.  Have we been abandoned?  Absolutely NOT.  

Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the LORD your God goes with you; he will never leave you nor forsake you." Deuteronomy 31:6

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me.  Psalm 23:4

Yes, I feel crazy most of the time.  Yes, I feel like maybe sometimes I'm not good enough.  Yes, I struggle daily with thoughts that tell me "You're awkward.  You're strange.  You'll never belong.  You're not good enough.  You're just too much."  But should I buy in to those?  Most would say "NO!!"  But would you tell yourself that same answer??  See, even though I deal daily with it, I am working on this thing called "imperfect progress" (Thanks to Lysa Terkeurst and her book Unglued: Making Wise Choices in the Midst of Raw Emotion).  What I'm asking is, Are you where I've been lately?  Do you feel the same way?  Not enough, yet also maybe too much crazy for the "normal" world to take on?  Cuz it is my experience that we are not alone in this.  Also, we never have to suffer alone.

"For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither Angels nor demons, nor any power, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord."  Romans 8:38-39

See?  Love.  Eternally, unquestioning, ever-present.  So just rest.  Even if the feeling of rest is fleeting (because it is imperfect progress, afterall), just know that He is not fleeting.  He is always there.  A constant in our chaos.  A victor in our defeat.