Hello HOPE. I'm ready to wake up from the nightmare now.

Almost 3 years ago I was on one of the worst disease modifying drugs for my MS, Tecfidera, and my neurologist wouldn't listen to me. He refused to take me off of it, despite the fact that I'd had two of my worst exacerbations and continued to get worse and worse. "You don't feel the positive effects until after 6 months." He ignored my new issues with pain on my left eye and face. I suffered severe malnourishment and had the worst type of flu you could imagine every single day for 7.5 months. I finally was able to quit and wondered if I should never see another neurologist again. Each time I go on a disease modifying drug, I get permanent disability and major issues. I feel like it speeds up my MS decline. If you read a lot of the information on the newer medications for MS they say scary things like, "We don't know why it works. We just know it works in a percentage of MS patients." {Thankfully I'm now with a neurologist (2, actually) who specializes in MS. She has seen a FEW like me and is okay for now just treating my symptoms.}

Nevertheless, I quit the MS medication and quit seeing that neurologist. I thought he was the worst, but I was referred to one who was even worse. Clueless. The pain in my left eye and face continued to grow worse. In fact, months later the pain was now also on top of my head. I would swell up on certain points on my head, my hair was falling out to the point of bald spots, and I had other issues we couldn't explain. Irregular heart beat, bald spots, increased anxiety, worsening MS symptoms, and no insurance off and on. I wondered if it was because of stress? Because I'd been using travel shampoo that was at least 6-7 years old? We were tight on money and I would get blessings to deal with it all, but couldn't see another doctor for quite some time. Finally I was able to get into some doctors. Dermatologist said, "Alopecia Areata," and injected my scalp with steroids. Then I felt like my eyes, especially my right eye, was going to pop out of my skull. Instead of helping, it was worse. The neurologist guessed it was because of severe malnourishment after my body rejected the Tecfidera. You can have issues even 6-12 months after the offending curse was gone from your body. Temporary, most likely, was the hope for my hair loss, but again I had no real answers for the swelling on my head and feeling like a porcupine with a hammer was after me. 

The pains were still sporadic, though (not quite daily except for in the summer). My hair loss and swelling was alarming, though. I was losing the one thing I liked about my body. I never considered myself vain by any stretch of the imagination. I detest shopping and would always rather put my money into memories instead of things like clothes, handbags, or fancy cosmetics. But, once I started losing my hair, got dark spots on my face, and all kinds of other issues, I was feeling quite hideous. Nonetheless, there weren't many answers and I just kept moving forward and the pains increased in intensity and frequency.

 Then the ophthalmologist figured out that it was "Occipital Neuralgia" and should go away-tight muscles. Later I went back because instead of going away it was just getting worse and now on both sides of my head. The swelling and stabbing pains were too intense. He didn't have many answers beyond glycerol injections. Eventually I was able to meet with an endocrinologist 3 hours away. There wasn't a single endocrinologist in my town and later I found out my insurance didn't cover any doctor outside of my town. Anyway, she found that after 17 years of hypothyroidism, I had moved into hyperthyroidism. I finally knew why after changing my diet closer to the word of wisdom, and experiencing weird side effects, it was because now, for the first time EVER, I needed LESS thyroid medication. I'm on HALF of my dose! Once we leveled out my medications, some of my issues went away, but the stabbing pains didn't disappear. 

Eventually I found out I had Trigeminal neuralgia AND Occipital neuralgia ON BOTH SIDES. It is really rare to have TN, but even more rare to have it on both sides. Trigeminal neuralgia is called the suicide disease because 25-26% of people with TN commit suicide. It is recognized as one of the most painful diseases in the world. I'm guessing these desperate people are the ones like me who try multiple medications and instead of getting better just get worse. I'd imagine if you had it a century earlier, it would be frightening and incredibly hopeless. 

I was starting to feel incredibly hopeless. But, I can't help remember my dear grandmother, whom I only ever knew with one eye. It took them many years to figure out that she had a brain tumor, they cut the nerve, and she lost her eye. I feel like she is with me at times, encouraging me to keep going, reminding me of the medical advances we have these days. 

I was able to meet with a neurosurgeon and it was a breath of fresh air. He knew what he was talking about and had a direction to go! If my Trigeminal neuralgia had been caused by a tumor, they'd blast it away or if it were a blood vessel pushing on the nerve, they'd move it. But, sadly, mine is harder to treat. Mine is caused by my MS, as my body continues to tear away the myelin. He was quite hopeful that we can avoid the open Rhizotomy for later down the road. Sure, the solution is a temporary one, BUT, there is HOPE. I will need 2-3 surgeries and then will have to repeat the 2 minimally invasive ones every 1-2 years. Ironically, it's radio frequency lesioning of my trigeminal nerves. My biggest issues in my body are because of lesions in my brain and spine. Now we will CAUSE lesions in my nerves for my face and head. You can't do V1 and V2 at the same surgery or you run into permanent vision and cornea problems. Since I already have had vision problems for nearly 19 years (and worsening the last 2.5 years), we don't want to risk that. You also can't do both sides at the same time. So, I will go in and have V1 and V3 lesioned and numbed for my right side. Then I will heal and go back for my left side. Then if my occipital neuralgia doesn't improve, I will have to go in for my THIRD surgery. This brain surgery is more invasive and involves permanent electrodes and a type of pace maker, but for my brain and nerves. I'm HOPING and PRAYING that I can just do the first two surgeries. The occipital and trigeminal nerves are close together and the neurosurgeon is hopeful that if we take care of the worst problems it will alleviate the pressure and problems on the other.



If you're the praying type, I'd LOVE prayers that:
1) The surgeries can be successful and I won't have the complications. (Minimal risks-bleeding, infection, aneurysm, and anesthesia delarosa {brain registers numbness as burning pain that doesn't go away, so then you have that AND the TN on top of it}.
2) I can avoid the permanent stimulators and pace maker thing in my head.
3) My MS can be healed or lessened.

I know I'm asking for a lot. But, recently I learned it's okay to ask. I'm okay if the answers to all are NO. But, I'm still gonna ask and HOPE.

After the surgeries are done, I will be able to start coming off the horrible medications.

OHHHHHHH, the HOPE! I might be able to:

SING again (I haven't been able to for a year because of pain)
See, read, and write like I used to
Remember simple things
Drive
Go a full 24 hours without twitching
Go outside more than 1 hr per week without major issues
Concentrate
and so much more...
BUT IF NOT, I will be okay. I will still appreciate what I have and what I can do.

<3

God bless the GOOD Samaritan and MORE

As most people this season have been contemplating the birth of Christ, I can't stop thinking about the parable of The Good Samaritan. My focus used to be solely on the Samaritan in the story. But, lately I have been reminded even more that I (and possibly ALL of US) have a connection to each symbol and role in the parable. {Scroll to the bottom of the post for the connections/symbols/thoughts}.

https://www.lds.org/bible-videos/videos/parable-of-the-good-samaritan?lang=eng

Growing up, my favorite Bible story was of the Good Samaritan. Once I started getting health problems, it became the "Woman with an Issue of Blood." At times it has been the "Widow's Mite." All three have combined this Christmas season (and last) and I wanted to share some thoughts specifically on The Good Samaritan.

We know the story (Luke 10) where a lawyer asks Christ how to obtain eternal life. Christ responds in a parable. And just as parables are meant to touch us, there are layers upon layers of meaning. When I was younger, I dug deep enough to know I needed to serve. Beyond that, I didn't look or ponder enough to decipher further symbolism or connections.

I never put much thought into the other components mentioned in the story:

Priest
Levite
Thieves
The man left half-dead
Inn Keeper
Jerusalem and Jericho
Oil & Wine
Donkey

I knew enough that the Priest and Levite made poor choices in this instance, but often were seen with more reverence in society at the time than the Samaritans. Priests did much for the temple and people, as mediators, essentially. Levites I also associate with the Priesthood and serving in lower capacities in the temple than a Priest, but important nonetheless. Thieves are a lower class of wretchedness obviously and are despicable no matter what time or place you live. Finally, when I contemplated a significant "Inn Keeper" I really only connected that to Christ's birth.

Fast forward to when I was living in Jerusalem and I got a better understanding of the Law of Moses (maybe the Priest and Levite didn't want to go through the ceremonial cleansing ritual that would have been required by helping this man on the path. Maybe they thought they were above him. Maybe it just wasn't convenient. Their reason is less important than their actions, though). I know at the time of Christ there was a great deal of division and enmity between Jew and Samaritan. So much that they would literally go OUT OF THEIR WAY to avoid the Samaritans, say from Judea to Galilee by taking detours to avoid the province of Samaria between. I also knew that Jerusalem has been a symbol of holiness, wherein the temple stood and many came to worship there. King Herod had the temple in Jerusalem rebuilt and a winter palace in Jericho, as well. However, his motivations for these and other architectural wonders were quite different. Herod merely ordered the temple built (and added to from time to time until 64 A.D., just 6 years before its destruction) to gain favor with the Jews. His winter palace, however, was a worldly, extravagant oasis in Jericho for him. To travel between the two cities, a mere 25 KM, you descend considerably from 2,500 ft ABOVE sea level to 825 ft BELOW sea level. Jericho is the lowest city on the face of the earth with one of the oldest histories to follow. Some may say Jericho vs. Jerusalem is a symbol of "worldly" vs "Godly." The road to connect the two was known as a dangerous and difficult road that traders, pilgrims, armies, & all kinds of religious and common people traveled.

While in Jerusalem, I also helped press grapes and olives in Jerusalem and had a better understanding of Christ doing it alone. I was overcome with emotion when I watched one specific type of olive press squeeze all the oil from the olives we had picked. I was surprised at the spiritual experience I had, as the olive oil that leaked out resembled blood. I read about how Christ tread the wine press alone and the significance of oil and wine in the land. (Isaiah 63:3, D&C 133:48)

Not the one that typically would have been used in Christ's time, but the one I loved the most.

I have shared some of my physical, emotional, and financial difficulties over the years. Never quite the full extent of struggle, but enough to share my thoughts, emotions, gratitude, and reality. However, the last three years since my husband's furlough with the railroad, moves, decrease in health for both of us, and new diseases, I have gained a greater appreciation for this parable. Each passing year has brought a new low I never fully grasped financially, physically, and emotionally. Before this experience, my financial lows were temporary. My physical trials were tough, but not unbearable (for the most part). My emotions with various medicine changes and hormone changes compounded with new diseases were tough, but again, manageable (for the most part). The way I have always dealt with any difficulty is to simply bear the worst of it entirely on my own. I do not mention it much unless it scares me and I think someone else needs to know in case I collapse and end up in the ER. I don't complain about it until I've reached a breaking point. Then I deal with it quickly and go back to silently bearing it. 

The past three weeks, though, I reached a breaking point. In fact, this past year I've reached my breaking point several times. I remember watching the movie, "Concussion" with Will Smith (based on a true story). I remember hearing about a man who was so bad, he ripped out his own teeth and then super glued them back in. The shock and horror. I couldn't imagine the pain and anguish. ...and then my neuralgia spread. We haven't had health insurance off and on and haven't been able to pay out of pocket. I have needed a root canal for almost 2 years. There have been times I've thought about just going to get it pulled or pulling it myself to save money. (My husband wouldn't let me---he takes EXCELLENT care of me. It was mostly okay most days). But, I am not even 40. I'm losing my hair and don't want to lose my tooth too. HOWEVER, the pain PALES in comparison to Trigeminal Neuralgia. There have been a few attacks so bad that I literally have to talk myself through not wanting to pull out my teeth, my eye, or bang my head hard enough on the floor or wall to knock myself out. There is NO pain medication that I have found to take it away. Two have taken the edge off somewhat, but I'm getting worse and the side effects are miserable. It's why I'm meeting with a neurosurgeon two days before Christmas to discuss if they'll drill into my skull or do another type of surgery. If it works, it will be worth it. 

My depression and anxiety have increased because of all of this, as well as the newer medication I was on. If it weren't for my faith in God and Jesus, as well as my relationship with them and my family, I would have committed suicide a while ago. I am so eternally grateful for my Savior, God, family, and friends who have literally lifted me when I physically or emotionally (heck-even financially) couldn't do it myself. Truth be told, I have felt HALF DEAD for the last two years, but especially this past year. 

Then it dawned on me. I think at one time or another, ALL of us are ALL parts of this poignant parable! 

Sure, there are some parallels from this parable and Adam & Eve's fall and rescue, which is our own story as well. Spiritually, emotionally, and for some physically and financially we fall and are in need of charitable intervention. I used to think of my health problems as weaknesses I had to just bear and try to bear alone. I did bear it alone most of the time ... until I couldn't anymore. And that has been a curse and a blessing. 

My husband and I have wondered why we prayed to go with the railroad if 3 weeks after training they would furlough? Why would he have two ER visits, robbed 4 times, my new diseases, asking for help and not getting it, budget down to minuscule amounts and still not have enough, stay in the homes we did, and move so much or do school if we could have saved ourselves a lot of debt and heartache by skipping the terrible trials? I have learned a GREAT deal in these trials. I thought I knew poor, but I had no idea until we had to decide which utility we would cut off, who we could ask for toilet paper and bread, and the strength to tell yet another doctor, "Nope, I know it's your recommendation for hospital/test/medication, but we canNOT afford it." I remember moving back to Kansas for the railroad, only to learn they furloughed again that night. Thousands of people were being furloughed this time instead of hundreds. No work. No unemployment. Second mini stroke (and not recovering). And I met with the Bishop about a calling to teach RS again. He asked how we were doing and I bawled...and bawled saying, "I don't know what we are gonna do. We got a letter that we don't have insurance. My MS is horrible. My husband just got out of the hospital and isn't recovering like he did the first time..." I was cut off and asked if I still lived in the same rental. I was so in shock, that instead of explaining that we had discussed selling our things, breaking our lease, and moving in with my in laws, I simply said, "Yes." His next response was, "Okay, we'll set you apart next week. Bye." And that was it. Or on another occasion I asked if we needed to pay fast offerings even though we have no job, no money, no food stamps...nothing. Answer? "Yes. I mean, it's between you and the Lord, but YES." So, I paid our entire monthly grocery budget of $20 and cried. I sat in lessons in RS where a woman talked about how her utilities were paid by someone. What a miracle. Another had a plane ticket bought so she could attend a funeral. I was grateful that they received help (honestly---I would NEVER have taken it from them and felt that they definitely deserved help). But, I have always had a flaw in my thinking and I don't know why. I always make it a point to try to see the best in people and share that with them. I do not expect perfection from anyone but ME. I figure everyone around me deserves the best, assistance, love, understanding, compassion, and forgiveness but me. I don't know why, but this experience started reinforcing the faulty beliefs. I struggled. We applied for state assistance and they had a system crash and were back logged by thousands. It took almost 5 months before we ever heard back. I later saw a politician bragging about how they didn't expand Medicaid and had blocked many who applied for help. 

And then a very inspired friend sent us more money than any other friend before. She wrote about how she had been inspired to help us. That I was important and not forgotten. I have literally clung to that note and messages from her and others when I felt forgotten and alone. Later I learned our Bishop was going through cancer and surgeries. I also experienced the lack of concentration and struggled understanding because pain was too intense. So, I had a better understanding that it wasn't the Lord rejecting ME for help or compassion. It was simply the situation of both of us being human. Thankfully my husband also improved and was able to work again several months later. I learned a lot throughout the situation and am glad to have gone through it (and especially to not be in that situation any more). 

Back to the Good Samaritan (my own take on it all):

Thieves: We've been robbed too many times. I felt violated, scared, and unsafe. And then I learned things were just things. I'll be okay. But, we all have done damage to another person. Sometimes unintentionally or at other times intentionally. We sin. Hopefully we don't do it too often or too harshly, but we all have hurt someone. Thankfully if something has been taken from us, it can be restored through the power of Jesus Christ. Maybe my favorite restorations are emotionally and spiritually by always relying on Him.

Priest: They were mediators, often, and had important roles and power. They did not take the role on themselves, but were chosen. But, some chose to ignore their role, avoid, and shrugged off inspiration or intervention. We've all done it. It feels rotten in the end. I think the important distinction with a priest is that they draw close to God and intervene on behalf of the people, specifically at the altar of God. They sacrificed, prayed, taught, officiated at festivals, and were held to a higher standard with unique restrictions, privileges, and expectations. We sacrifice differently now that the Law of Moses has been fulfilled by Jesus Christ. But, we still sacrifice, pray, teach, and have privileges and expectations that are a blessing if we do them consistently. 

Levite: Sometimes they are connected to the title of a Priest and other times there is a specific distinction. I look at them as similar, but have different roles to make everything work. Some may view them as "lesser," but I don't in that their roles are important. My roles have been case manager, secretary, teacher, mother, unit counselor, and other church callings as well. All responsibilities I took seriously, but carried out my duties at varying levels. Often I minimized just how important my role was at the time (or maybe Satan screamed it and I listened). How much could I really do? Influence? Impact? How important was it really in comparison to say, a "Priest" or mother of 8 like I wanted or teacher in the slums or {fill in the blank} job/career/calling? 

Jerusalem to Jericho: I loved the St. George Monastery in the Wadi Kelt along the way from Jerusalem to Jericho. I remember when I first moved to St. George, Utah and thought I just didn't belong. I wasn't sure how long it would take before I felt at home. But, oh, Utah (and Vegas) will always be my home-base. How I miss the lack of bugs, the friends, the family, the lack of humidity, the nearby temple, and my connections to the outside world (being able to go outside). But, Kansas has some wonderful plusses too (minus the bugs). New family, a few friends, cheaper homes to buy, a WONDERFUL ward, and educational opportunities for my hubbykins. The important part, though, is that I have prayed and followed inspiration as to where to move; where to journey. Oh, how I've moved. But, the people I've met along the way have been inspiring. Christ walked the same road to Jericho as these people-he was baptized in the waters nearby. He literally descended below all things. We don't have to descend below as much as Him, but He has been where you and I are-every emotion, heart-ache, sorrow, pain-He has walked the path we are on and wants us to reach out. Sometimes we have to follow in His difficult steps, but as long as we stay on the road, with Christ's steps in view, we will come out so much stronger, better, and happier. Just because the road is hard doesn't mean it's the wrong road. It's who you become through the journey as you look upward, reach outward, and move forward that matters most.

The man left half-dead: We all are going to need intervention at different times in our lives. Sometimes it is because of our own weaknesses. Other times it is because of the sins of others around us. And then there are just things that we have to endure that are simply our mountains to climb. We will need someone ELSE to do for us what we canNOT do for ourselves. There have been times when I've born it alone. I haven't reached out. I don't know if it is assumed the man left half-dead reached out or didn't. Maybe he didn't with the Priest and did with the Levite (thus the "saw" and "came and looked on him,"). I can tell you the times when I have shared my struggles and people are praying for me all of a sudden, I can tell a MARKED difference! I literally have felt prayers at different times in my life.  The times my baby cried and cried because I couldn't lift her or I couldn't talk or walk or when I have had to separate from my hubby for a time because of my health (his work and my need for assistance from family) and others came to intervene, I was forced to ask for help. It is deeply humbling when you have to admit you can't do something basic. Or when you are the worst off of everyone around you (physically, emotionally, spiritually, financially), your natural inclination is to hide away. Give up. Isolate. Retreat. Wallow. Lie down and not move. I'm grateful that we are now in a position for education so that we can move on. There is great hope in being a poor college student versus just being poor. I'm happy to be on this end. I cannot explain the relief that comes from being able to buy food and pay for your home AND the heat instead of just waiting until you can see your breath inside, trying to live off food storage and telling Discover/Visa/Mastercard to put it on your tab til it's full. I have so much more hope this year in that aspect of my life. I almost can't count the times I have thought we wouldn't make it and then right before giving up my last ounce of HOPE, someone intervened. 

Olive Oil: A few of my friends gave me essential oils a few years ago. It has been a wonderful help to us, especially when we couldn't go to the doctors. More importantly, I have been tremendously blessed with the Priesthood in my home (or my Dad or home teachers before) and the anointing oil coupled with different blessings to heal me. There have been a few times where I have LITERALLY been saved from death or coma/vegetative state because of the Priesthood and an anointed blessing. Olive oil provided light, just as Christ is the Light of the World. It often signified richness, joy, and health. It was used for cooking, just as Christ is the Bread of Life (and Bethlehem meaning House of Bread). The olive leaf is a symbol of PEACE, just as Christ is the Prince of Peace. Purity. Spirit. Hope. There are so many references throughout the scriptures. But, maybe the most significant is that it takes a tremendous amount of pressure just to get out the bitterness and oil from one olive. Christ endured this and has taken the sting of death from us as long as we look to Him. Along our path, I hope we have light, purity, peace (not as the world gives, per se), and HOPE. 

Wine: Obviously you think of Christ's sacrament & atonement, as well as the cleansing powers wine has for our bodies (externally). I mentioned earlier the reference in Isaiah to Christ treading the wine press alone and the beautiful symbolism there. But, I want to make a little reference to two different types of wine/whine. I hope we turn to Christ instead of whine. May we not gripe and whine continually, but partake instead of the "true vine" (John 15). The cleansing, healing power of Christ's atonement is available to all-every aching, broken soul on earth. We may be broken, but oh, the potential when we are grafted into the vine!

Donkey: Don't be a 'donkey.' (some may substitute that for another word, but I just save that for the Bible. haha). There is a lot of symbolism in the donkey, the first one to enter my mind was when Christ rode triumphantly over palm branches into Jerusalem after he was anointed and before his death. The Samaritan gave up his convenience and walked while the injured man rode. It makes me think of Mary and Joseph too (I don't know if it actually says they used one). At times we've been selfish and kept our luxuries for ourselves. Other times we share. Hopefully we share more. 

Inn Keeper: Obviously the Samaritan trusted this Inn Keeper. He stayed the night with the man and then imparted money to the keeper and gave nearly a blank check for the rest of the injured man's needs. I'll come back and pay whatever is needed. Both the Inn keeper and the Samaritan trusted each other. Other inn keepers haven't made room. Some, like this one, made room for healing and home. Whether it be a place in our hearts, schedules, or literally our homes, I hope I can make more room for those in need. 

Samaritan: obviously he is a type or shadow of Christ who loved every soul to a depth I can't fully comprehend. Christ was rejected and despised just as the Samaritans were of their day. I met a Samaritan by lineage while in Israel, but I have met even more GOOD SAMARITANS in my long journey of struggles. Bless my many angels on earth who have lifted me up and done for me what I cannot do for myself. Christ-like love and charity have been some of the beautiful gifts along this difficult journey. I have learned the last year to stop rejecting offers for assistance. I may still say, "I'm fine" or "Nothing. There's nothing you can do," when a general question arrises. But, now if someone asks how they can help specifically or offers a specific gift, I'm learning to accept. I'm a work in progress and am learning that accepting help is extremely important in this life. How can I cry and ask God for help when someone offers help because they were inspired and I turn them away? 

I remember when I worked as a unit counselor for a residential treatment center. A girl shared a story. A man was on top of his roof in a flood. He prayed to God for help. A neighbor swam by with a floating device and told him to jump. He replied, "No, I'm waiting for God." The neighbor shrugged his shoulders and swam on. Next another neighbor in a boat said, "Jump in! We're going to safety." As the water climbed, he again replied, "No! I'm waiting for God." She shook her head and moved on. Lastly, a helicopter with rescue members shouted, we are here to help as they began to lower the ladder. The man refused, with his nose in the air, "No!! I'm waiting for God." The rescue helicopter moved on to another home nearby as this man crouched on his roof for the last few seconds. ...and he died. When he met God on the other side, the man angrily protested..."I prayed! Where were you? Why didn't you help?" God answered, "I did. Three times." 

I know I have SO much more to learn and as my surgery looms over my head (haha), I know I'm not quite over the hump of these struggles. In a few months I will have had my major diseases for 19 years. Every day for 19 years I've had pain, fatigue, nausea, dizziness, darkened vision, ringing in my ears, and more. In just a few months, I will have lived HALF of my entire LIFE this way. The worst has definitely been the last 5 years with the unbearable parts the last two years. But, I sure have learned a lot, have a GREAT deal to be thankful for, and have truly come to know my Savior and Father in Heaven. I cannot thank all of you GREAT Samaritans who have helped me on my way enough. (We are doing so much better this year than last year, by the way). 

Bless you all for your Christ-like love, compassion, service, sacrifice, and support. 

Face your Fears. Don't stop Dreaming. Get your BRAVE on and DREAM on!

Do you find it funny that once Fall hits, we surround ourselves with some of our greatest fears? We add glitter to these decorative symbols, make the freakish critters more cartoonish, and plaster on some toothless smiles, but in the end we make October all about versions of our fears.



Spiders.
Skeletons.
Bats.
Zombies.
Jack-o-Lanterns
Witches.
Poisons.
Black darkness.
Ghosts.
Blood sucking villains.
Death.

The end of October has morphed into a funny little concoction of good and bad. Treats and tricks. Fears and fantasies, as we dress up and look around gawking at some frightful scenes. For me, the end of October is both a wonderful reminder of a blessed moment in my life and a cutesy display of some of my fears.

I remember in Kenya when I spoke with some people in the slums outside of Nairobi and when I sat in a tiny hut of the Masaai on the Masai Mara.

"God gave us the best and the worst."
"You like our roads? (Eye brow raised twice for a 'yes') They make you dance!"

The roads were so bad that you ricocheted all around as your cramped matatu swerved in and out and bounced up and down. But, these insightful people chose to look on the brighter side of things focusing not on the holes, missing pieces, and bumps, but on the positive. Dancing. Joyful. Moving forward. It was how they approached so much of life---looking on the brighter side of life and finding good things that came from bad. While in Mombasa or on safari, I also marveled at the gorgeous horizon speckled with magnificent beasts, glorious colors, and sounds of a variety of monkeys nearby. So much of the BEST! And while in Soweto I saw the sewage running through the streets, the black river nearby, children without parents, shoeless, and toothless chewing on sticks to ward off the hunger pangs. Too much of the WORST! But, they were the happiest people I've ever met as a whole. Their love, joy, and appreciation is something that has stuck with me throughout my life.

I feel like my life has been full of the BEST and some of the WORST (for me). I've lived several nightmares and all of my dreams up to this point. It's been great and it's been hard. But all in all, what has come out of it all has been quite remarkable. I appreciate my opportunities to really conquer some fears.

I used to be afraid of going blind and deaf.
I used to be afraid of dying.
I used to be (*more*) afraid of cockroaches and spiders. (Still a work in progress)
I used to be afraid of losing everything I owned.
I used to be afraid of robbers.
I used to be afraid of being in a wheelchair.
I used to be afraid of being home bound.
I used to be afraid of pain, broken bones, surgeries, doctors, etc.
I used to be afraid of massive debt.
I used to be afraid of being alone.
I used to be afraid of not being a good enough mom or wife.
I used to be afraid of not having enough money to buy food, pay for a home, or utilities.
I used to be afraid of people seeing my worst.
I used to be afraid of opening up to others. Vulnerability
I used to be afraid of ghosts/evil spirits.
I used to be afraid of risk.
I am still afraid of being bedridden or in a retirement home by my 40s.

Overall, it's been hard to face all of those things, but I've come out stronger. I've come to the edge of all or through all of them only to learn of my strength, fortitude, and talents. How could the WORST lead to the BEST?

• Having all of my senses dulled and at times taken away fully (temporarily) has taught me to see more clearly spiritually speaking. I've learned to draw on other senses, read lips (not expert level, but gets me by), feel more, and magnify other gifts that may have been dormant for much longer. 
• Starting to die (being on the edge of death twice, actually), taught me that I have nothing to fear, to continue living with zero regrets, and a closeness to God and Christ that I couldn't have learned any other way. 
• Ever since we returned to our home after the (*ahem, not-my-favorite*) renter left, we've had cockroaches for the first time. I have a phobia of them and when you add my MS nerve issues wherein my body FEELS like bugs are crawling all over, AND I was bit by a brown recluse...it makes for living a bit of a nightmare for a few months. THANKFULLY, we have eradicated the nasty beasts who shall not be named. My body still feels like bugs are crawling on it and we've found some gigantic orb spiders outside, but facing them regularly has caused me to be less afraid. I've learned some tricks to deal with it as well. Ice packs, sitting on my legs or lying on my arms funny until I can't feel it for a moment, and other such tricks make it more bearable.



One of the Orb spiders my hubby and daughter have named! He's outside, but intrigues and frightens me. Stretched out he is the size of a peach. But peaches would be WAY better in our backyard. Heck, I'd even name a few of the peaches 'Big Daddy.'

• We haven't lost everything we owned, truth be told, because I have angels on earth. Every time we were about to max out our last credit card, have $0 in the bank for months, lose my phone connection (my connection to the world), about to be sent to collections, etc, someone would be inspired to send us money. There were a few friends and family who were SO inspired that I have clung to their notes and memories of generosity with a fierceness I hadn't known before. I KNOW that God is aware of me and hasn't abandoned me because of my angels on earth. Prayers are answered. It may not be in the way we want and not even as extensively miraculous as we imagined, but he definitely is aware! We are doing a lot better now and that anxiety has decreased dramatically. I'm amazed at the happiness and peace you can feel when you have enough food and money for your home and utilities as well as health insurance!
• We were robbed 4 times in less than 2 years and now pay for it even longer than I imagined. But, I've learned things are just things. Peace truly only comes from the Prince of Peace. Everything really is God's anyway, which I hadn't entirely grasped before all of this. He can take it away and give back more than we had before. Others have their agency as well, which can impact our lives in a ripple effect that the victim and offender don't quite see immediately. However, as long as I'm doing my best, all will work out in the end. 
• I won't carry on with the rest of the list, but you get the idea. =) As long as you don't become BITTER, God will make you BETTER from the WORST placed in your path.

The last few months have taught me a great deal. My trigeminal and occipital neuralgia are getting worse. The 3rd medication has caused me to gain 25 (TWENTY FIVE) pounds in 2 and a half months. My depression, fatigue, nausea, strength, dizziness, and memory are worse. Scary worse. But, I can't see my neurologist until November. Do you find it funny that PATIENTS and PATIENCE (or being PATIENT) are too connected? I've been a patient of many doctors. Throughout my myriad of tests, surgeries, pin pricks, anxiety induced side effects, and added diseases and specialists, I've had to learn to be patient. This last Sunday a boy I taught Sunday School to returned from his mission to South Africa. He delayed his football acceptance to BYU to fulfill his mission first. He gave a wonderful talk and in between the room spinning, my searing eye and face pains, and nausea, I gathered that he became more patient while serving 2 years in Africa. He shared that patience is "able to accept or tolerate delays, problems, or suffering without becoming annoyed or anxious."  It hit me like a ton of bricks (I mean my eye feels like that daily, but figuratively speaking...) my anxiety and depression have increased with my Trigeminal and Occipital neuralgia. I'm on my 3rd medication for the severe nerve pain and it's not managing the pains well. I'm getting worse. I have always worked hard with patience wherein I hold back anger and consistently try to find the blessing in the burden. I continually try to give my selfishness to God, but I haven't successfully dealt with my problems or sufferings fully! Instead, I have hidden away because I don't want others to see me in so much pain or me at my worst. My pain ALSO increases when I do ANYTHING beyond my regular routine limiting exertion. So, instead of dealing with my 'pains, delays, problems, and sufferings' by entirely giving them to God, I have let my fear and anxiousness lead the way. I've been trying to take it all on by myself. Which has only lead to isolation and more anxiety. Humph. 

Imagine being in labor EVERY day for who knows how long. You are typically at a 4, but get attacks (contractions) leading to a 6 or 8 every day. In fact, the more you do, the faster your pain increases and stays with you. How many people would you invite into your delivery room on a daily basis? How often would you attempt walking the halls of the hospital? Getting out? Doing chores? By the way, you're on the third anesthesiologist and she said, "I'm too busy to see you. Let's wait 2 months and then we'll discuss a fourth attempt at managing the pain." The epidural takes some of the edge off, but you're still in a great deal of pain (I've had an epidural and 5 spinal taps...epidural is way better. haha). P.S. You get no baby from the labor day after day. Yay! =) Honestly, this pain is worse than labor (and I was in labor for several days). It's the only way I can describe my life for the last 2 years, but especially the last year. In the end, I have hidden away and limited myself so much that I was barely living. I was falling back into my zombie phase. Breathing. Eating. Sleeping. Nearly all of my energy was spent in barely surviving and taking care of my daughter. But by trying to avoid pain (at least more pain), I wasn't living. 

My friend's recent suicide opened my eyes as to just how much I was barely living. I used to DREAM big. I used to thrive on socializing, throwing parties, serving, offering a listening ear and a helping hand, communicating, achieving goals, and laughing a LOT. But, to continue dreaming and living in my big ways, I figured I needed money and energy, both of which were severely lacking. (We are doing okay now). Don't get me wrong. I have LOVED my life and have found GREAT JOY in very little things. I have enjoyed my husband and daughter immensely DAILY. I simply changed my dreams from BIG to small. But, eventually they were TOO small for me to thrive. I was just avoiding pain and surviving instead of dealing with the pain and thriving. Avoiding death isn't living. 

I used to love holidays with a passion few knew. My poor roommates endured all kinds of parties, decorations, and celebrations. One year I even 'made' my roommates celebrate Christmas in July. I made botched versions of pajama pants with my roomie, cut off branches from the apartment coniferous tree out front and attached them to a broomstick for our tree, and had tiny stockings filled with treats from Santa. The other Santa bought a small plastic kiddie pool. What a delight. Or the time I made my roommates do mystery murder dinners, cut down our own Christmas tree, and watch movies in line with the given holiday. Fast forward to the last few years...my hubby isn't into holidays. I knew it before I married him (and he was warned as to my over zealousness). Combine that with my decreasing health and you have a sad display of holiday ho hum. Two years ago I went to the zoo in a wheelchair and planned my daughter's birthday party. But then I was too sick to take her trick-or-treating. The next year we did less for her birthday party and then I struggled but was able to do trick-or-treating. This year my husband has encouraged me to CELEBRATE. For the first time in YEARS (even since my single days), we put out ALL of my Halloween decor! We found a free pumpkin patch and went when the weather was in the 60s. I didn't need my walker or a wheelchair! Sure, I've paid for it, but it was worth it. A few months ago I was living one of my nightmares. This month I'm living one of my dreams. I planned our family Halloween trick-or-treating costumes so I can be a part of it with my walker. We are going LOW KEY on my girl's bday so we can go all out for Halloween and her school bday party. (It was what she was most excited about). We've had everything and planned for a mystery murder dinner party for the past 3 years. But, October has brought issues (robberies, car issues, etc) every year. We've delayed. This year my husband said..."It will be FREE. We can do it. Let's make it happen this year." He and my lil girl have put up everything, we've gotten things ready, and I have so much to look forward to. (He truly spoils me). 

Last month, my daughter saw a moth. She gave herself a pep talk: "I not afwaid  of you bug! I so bwave! I gonna get you for mommy!" She ran around with a hand towel trying to save her mommy from yet another bug. Lately I've been thinking more about the opportunities I've had to be brave. October has morphed from my BEST and WORST into my BRAVE month. I always tell my daughter how much she is loved. We talk about her day, what was fun and great. But, recently I've been asking her if she had a chance to be brave. Introspectively I ask myself the same.  

FACE my FEARS. Don't stop DREAMING. GET my BRAVE on. DREAM on. 

And for the times when I feel too weak or afraid, I just remember to HOLD on. Stay in the boat and even though the storm may last, I'm gonna grow stronger. I'll better know my "CAPTAIN of {my} salvation, perfect through sufferings." (Hebrews 2:10)

You may be living one or more of you own nightmares. If you are, first off, I AM SO SORRY! I hope you know you aren't alone and that we can both get our BRAVE on and DREAM on! Thanks to all of you who have loved, supported, called, texted, messaged, been patient with my Facebook break/unplugging, and been there for me. HUGS from a distance!

Disgusting? Miraculous? BROWN RECLUSE spider vs the human recluse? BRING IT ON

SOoooOOOO, I'm about to gross you out with the NASTIEST post I've ever shared.

YOU
HAVE
BEEN
WARNED
!!!!

**If you have a phobia of spiders, don't read any further. Go breathe deeply and watch something Disney while thinking only happy thoughts....because I'm about to get REAL.**

It's no surprise to those who've read my posts or who have lived with me know that I HATE bugs. I might even hate bugs more than anyone you've ever known! I detest with a passion that is loud and comical to others. Bless every single roommate and family member who put up with my shrieks, dancing on top of a couch, and your brave annihilation of bugs on my behalf. And bless my wonderful husband who tries to save the ones he can and swoops in like my own personal superman to destroy the villains. And my sweet daughter who breaths deeply, gives herself a pep talk, saying, "I so brave. I not afraid of you bug. I gonna get 'em for you mom!" and off she runs to save the day. Although sometimes she breaks down in tears because that was a bug she liked. She tries to convince me that it was a nice spider or cricket. At least we both agree that cockroaches are evil and must be destroyed. I used to think that the WORST bugs were cockroaches. I actually do have a phobia of them and even have a hard time saying the name or typing it. I'm about 98.7% sure that they aren't going on to the Celestial Kingdom. I have a feeling cockroaches, chiggers, mosquitoes, and now brown recluse spiders are all gonna reside with Satan. You know the whole "fire and brimstone" taunts and terror? Cockroaches have to be somewhere in that nightmare too.

I never thought I'd hate anything more until this past month. It's funny how you don't notice something as often until it impacts you. It's like the proverbial red dot I heard about in psychology classes.

• DO NOT focus on the red dot. This red dot .  Seriously, stop looking at it. Don't think about it. 
• Inevitably you end up focusing on the red dot instead of forgetting about it. That is UNTIL you change your thought patterns by focusing on something else. Then the void and open stage of your consciousness can change paths. Focus on this BROWN dot .

On September 3rd I went to the temple because I was struggling so much with my friend's death and my newer health challenges. Between the twitches throughout my body, pain, weakness, and the incessant feeling that bugs are crawling on my legs or arms, my usual tricks haven't been enough. I decided getting out of the house and serving in a small way was a new trick to take my mind off of my challenges. It was that day that I realized I had been bit and my stomach wasn't happy with my lack of awareness. I didn't think much of it, but as time went on it got worse and worse. Within probably three days, the itching was out of control, the redness and swelling increased and the middle of the bite was an open sore. I still didn't think a whole lot about it because my immune system struggles and I figured it would just get worse before it got better. My philosophy is usually push through it and eventually you'll come out the other end okay. We didn't have money or insurance, so I grinned and bore it. And then it kept spreading-the swelling, red, open sore in the middle, and the itching was spreading beyond the bite all across my torso. My husband saw it through my clothes and said...WHOA! WHAT? I lifted my shirt and he immediately said, "That is a brown recluse spider bite!" I had no clue. I was just waiting for it to heal on its own. 

I wish I had taken pictures of the bite BEFORE the blessing. These have been pictures of the bite AFTER the blessing. You can't tell the scale for sizing either. It grew into the size of my FIST before I got the blessing. After the blessing the redness and swelling/raised skin stopped spreading. The insane itching throughout my torso also decreased over several days instead of spreading like it had before. The pictures aren't great quality and lighting is different in the most recent one. But, you can imagine the disgustingness. Sorry...but I figured you'd wanna see at least the after affects. 

Apparently with brown recluse spider bites, it destroys the tissue and spreads just like mine had.  My mother in law was telling me about someone in their ward who had diabetes, was bit on her foot without realizing it, and had to have it amputated. There were other signs (darker urine, for example) that I just brushed off. My body does weird things and doesn't heal as quickly as others. I had been thinking that day that the pain and itching were a bit too much and was gonna ask for a blessing. My awesome hubby immediately asked if I wanted a blessing. God knew we weren't in the position to go to the doctor or ER (we are now okay though-yay). JUST an anointed priesthood blessing and from then on it continued to heal. The redness that kept growing to the size of my fist had stopped spreading. The middle part of darkened skin that was like an open sore started to scab over by the second day I think (I have a bad memory). It's been ONE month since the spider bite (Sept 3rd) and it's almost all gone. It wasn't until later that I looked up brown recluse spider bites. You HAVE to have a STRONG stomach to see some of those. BLEH. 

The funny thing is that all of a sudden I noticed spiders even more than ever before. I had a spidey sense in the least beneficial way possible. There are these big spiders here who build their massive, dense webs, and it ends up killing the trees (at least that is how it looks). On the way to my friend's memorial, I noticed them ALL over the trees. I couldn't look outside the window. It was grossing me out and my anxiety was creeping up. 

No lie---these trees all along three states were covered in what I thought were spider webs that seemed to usurp life even from the tree itself. It turned out to be a certain type of bug. Either way, nastified!!!!

Having the Priesthood blessing and being on the road to recovery so quickly after the anointing was wonderful. It was a small miracle of healing that may have actually been a BIG blessing. I would love a healing of all of my diseases, but it's not time for that. Knock on wood (but not too much, because that is where those wretched brown spiders often hide), I still have all of my limbs and tissues (minus a gall bladder, but I'm not counting organs.) I AM BLESSED! Small miracles can be viewed through a grateful lens of magnitude beyond our limited comprehension. All miracles lead me to God and his love for me. 

Those dang dots. Did you forget about them? Distracted enough or filled in the gaps enough to not obsess? I've been thinking about my vision, my focus, and my drive. I have not done well at following the WHOLE FOOD, PLANT-BASED way of eating. Sure, I haven't had meat since Easter this year. But, I've indulged too much. I've been placing too much of my worth based entirely on my appearance, that dang number on the scale, and minute details in this way of eating. I couldn't see the BIG picture and let my mind get tangled in webs of lies (about my worth) and a focus so narrow I couldn't see myself or my situation clearly. 

The truth is I have some serious medical issues that make it very hard for me to lose weight or do very simple tasks. I gain weight incredibly quickly and take a very long time to let it go. I've been on and off so many different medications the past 4 years that my body has been blowing up on me. I've learned a lot about myself and God's omnipotence. 

As the spider's venom spread, the wound of entry refused to close or heal, and I tried to ignore it all, things just got worse. I needed intervention. Sometimes I've turned to the medical world (eastern and western medicinal practises) with moderate success depending on the illness. Sometimes I have been able to just bear it and rely on my own fortitude to endure. Sometimes I've only had God and his incredible power on high, the Priesthood, to turn to and have been incredibly blessed. 

This was a physical reminder of God's power and the need for intervention. It was a spiritual reminder as well. People can hurt you or you can hurt people. The venom, hatred, disgust, and poisoning breaks down a person no matter which side of the fight they were on. Sometimes the pain inflicted on us is mild enough we can deal with it on our own or with the help of someone else. Sometimes the wound and pain is so deep that we have to turn to heavenly intervention coupled with our faith to overcome the despair. The nastiness could make or break us and sometimes you've just got to cut the negativity out-whether it's within our own head or our surroundings. For me, my greatest challenge (emotionally) is loving and accepting myself for who I am. I love everyone around me, but have a hard time allowing the same love to spread into my own life. I also wonder if most (or all) of us come to earth with a weakness and even an addiction of some sort. Mine is food/sugar specifically and just as with any addiction, if you try to just avoid and NOT think about it, you may end up sabotaging later. If you don't open your heart and fill it with God's love and Jesus Christ's atonement, you may end up never leaving the addiction or switching to another one like the repulsive spiders change from one branch to another. I guess this past year I'm learning to let the true gardener take control and cut out what can cause me harm. 

I'm so grateful for so many people who lift me up, share in carrying heavy burdens, and dispel darkness when I'm consumed by suffocating stress or depression. 

Hopefully we can focus on what matters most. Not the red, searing pain we experience throughout our mortal experiences. Not the brown, nasty, gross parts of Satan's sad seducing webs of lies. Just on Christ and God. Like Peter who walked on water, lost his view, focused so much on his surroundings and began to drown. I hope to look upward more instead of sideways! Thankfully Christ is always there to clear the cobwebs, lift us from the tossing waves of burden, remind us of our worth, and we can come out stronger, healed, and full of love.

SaveSave

S.U.I.C.I.D.E ; ...

(**Excuse my long journal entry. I haven't had the guts to write down my feelings to this extent until now. Basically, I will be doing a fundraising memorial for my friend Kerry Brook in her name. She continues to help me even beyond the veil and I want to pass on the help to others. I will donate ALL of my commission to The Suicide Prevention Lifeline (http://www.suicidepreventionlifeline.org/) in her name.**)

Death. How do you deal with death? I struggle, especially if it's a suicide or murder wherein it wasn't on God's timetable. (Granted, He knows all and isn't surprised, but the shock of it all is unbearable to me, a mere mortal). I feel like certain deaths stop me in my tracks and make my world come to a screeching halt.

6 years old::: My 'boyfriend' from kindergarten died in first grade. Our school planted a tree for him, sang a song (Wind Beneath My Wings, I think) and I attended his funeral. My confused lil 1st grade mind got hung up on a few things said, filled in the gaps from our school playground to his home, and I didn't talk about it or confirm anything with anyone. What I gathered was that he was playing in his backyard on a teeter-totter/seesaw, fell down and a nail went through his heart. He died and I didn't like boys or remember even talking to boys again until the 5th grade after we moved to a different state. He had a heart defect, I learned many years later, and just collapsed at home while playing.

11 years old:::My favorite aunt who doted on me, spoiled me, and let me stay with her on the farm for 10 days. But 6 months later, she went through a rough patch I didn't quite understand. She was depressed and had isolated herself to the point that no family member could get in touch with her through visit, phone call or mail. In the middle of the night or middle of the morning, my parents woke me up to call her. I was thrilled and a bit bummed when she didn't take my call. Later that day, she called back, asking, "Did you know KALI called me?" Soon thereafter she died in a fire, as a pyromaniac was taking pictures. He went to the same counselor she did, but there was evidence for a murder, suicide, and accident equally. She had changed her Will to leave everything to me and I remember stumbling over the few charred items left from her trailer, trying to wake up from the nightmare. She's still a cold case and I didn't quite grasp the entire situation at the time. I turned 12 when we were there for the funeral, read a poem I wrote for her at the funeral, and then didn't talk to anyone about it much afterwards. Around that time I was also being bullied at school for being 'fat.' Adding to these struggles were physical changes and hormones a-raging, which created the perfect storm; a trifecta for depression, anxiety and suicidal thoughts. I wrote in my dairy that I wanted to die and went to a counselor once who said, "Why are you even depressed? Why are you here?" I hadn't shared about my aunt's death or the bullying, just that I felt sad and didn't know why. I have always been the kind of person who doesn't want to bother people and only shares a little bit. If you react well and I know I can trust you, I share more. If I can't or you don't react well, I stop at that depth. I stopped and never went back. I decided I needed to keep it bottled in more.

Everyone has a figurative sack full of rocks we carry around; our burden to carry. Sometimes it's sins (ours or others'), weaknesses, or disabilities that blind us, expose the bag a bit or open it to let in more weight, and make it more difficult to manage, balance, and shoulder. I've never been one for big sins, but one of my biggest demons or trials I have always had to bear is that of depression and anxiety for as long as I can remember. Many people turn to others for strength and support. I have always been the kind of person who bears it alone and after I've made it through the fire with ashes around and smoke dwindling down, then do I reach out. On rare occasions, as I step from the blinding darkness to a glimmer of light, only then do I open up. I don't want to bother people with things, but love when I can help others through their darkest hours. I don't know why it is that I always feel as though I should share the best, work on the worst, and continually look to lift and never ask for lifting myself. My MS and other diseases over the last 5 years especially have changed a big part of that within me. I used to be able to hide the tremors, blindness, deafness, physical instability, depression, anxiety, stabbing pains, dizziness, fatigue, nausea, bruises (appeared for no reason), and to an extent my insecurities.

The center of the party =) She was and is amazing!

Recently my husband and I have been going through boxes. I stumbled on some pictures and strolled down memory lane. One picture in particular I stumbled upon and posted on Facebook, tagged several friends, and messaged a few. I didn't message everyone, and reminisced over the days when things were a little simpler. 4 days later my friend committed suicide, one whom I'd tagged and just recently thought of in fleeting memories, but hadn't messaged. I worried that my recent tag had sent her into depression. I struggled with the thought that I hadn't reached out to each and every friend. I had only liked and commented on some of her things in the past year and realized I wasn't the best of friends to her. So much guilt. Only a few pictures behind this one was a picture of my dear friend Nikki. She had visited me in Utah, and she was one of the many I had talked OUT of suicide from 2004 and before. But, one time she didn't call me or our other friend like she had so many other times. In 2005 I lost 3 friends in only 6 months-two from suicide. In a short amount of time, it seemed liked death was all consuming. I thought about death, dreamed about death, mourned through the 3 deaths, and bled (menstruation) for 5 1/2 months afterwards STRAIGHT. Every day. I was exhausted and struggled considerably as I worked with abused and neglected kids. In looking back, I see that my hormones were off because of hypothyroidism, I was at the worst for my PCOS (too many cysts on my ovaries) and most likely experienced an exacerbation or relapse in my MS. I am sure I formed new brain lesions, but didn't see any specialists for my diseases. I finally did see a counselor for a bit, but then stopped because I didn't have enough money. 

You can tell why I didn't love this picture of myself, but now that Nikki is gone (behind me) I do love it.

Ironically, the only doctor I saw and trusted was a doctor who messed up, prescribed two medications that were poisoning my body, and I started to die in 2006. It was a VERY hard thing to live through. I also know that I put up a wall from the beginning of 2005 and beyond. I did not develop as close friendships as I had before this time in my life. One poor roommate, Julie, I hardly got to know because most of the time she knew me I was in the beginning stages of a serotonin syndrome. I crawled down the hall, collapsed at work, twitched in the corner as I helped kids, twitched on the floor of the mother's lounge at church and crawled out when someone else needed it more, did paperwork on my couch, had roommates get my groceries, and did paperwork on a laptop on my couch. I couldn't stand for more than 2 minutes without passing out or vomiting. My intestines were the first to stop working. Then I had huge bruises over my kidneys and my family doctor INSISTED that I was being abused. He told me the ONLY way I could get those bruises were from someone taking a bat to my back. I told him it was how I felt, but no one had hit me. And yet, I told everyone I was okay. I couldn't think very clearly towards the peak of my torture. On my birthday, my family members called me and I talked long enough for them to realize something was very WRONG. I was on my third day of pleading to God, "Heal me or kill me." It was all I could think or focus on. Apparently I was slurring my words. My brother who was doing an internship at a retirement community called my parents to say, "She sounds EXACTLY like my clients RIGHT before they die." I didn't know he called my family, but shortly after, I couldn't stand, my eyes were rolling in the back of my head and I figured, "Well, this is it. Good thing I don't have regrets." My roommates took me to the ER, they asked some questions, called my incompetent doctor, and came back to say, Well, MS can do weird things. I had regained some speech and strength and was no longer rolling my eyes in the back of my head. They couldn't explain it and sent me on my way. My brother came to visit me the following day, as did other family members. But, AGAIN, I didn't want to worry them. They had lives to get back to. I worked hard to show strength. I went to my horrible family doc. My doctor was training another doctor and kind of laughed outside the door, came in and said, "Is THIS the guy who's been abusing you? {I insisted AGAIN that I was NOT being abused. Something was wrong inside my body}. He continued to the resident/intern, "She says she has lots of weird things that happen in her body. Just explain to him." He shrugged it off and said, "You should just tell me who is hurting you." and left. The night before in the ER, the pharmacist's words rang through my head over and over. He hadn't wanted to give me the prescription my doctor gave me. He told me to ask the doctor about interactions with another medication. I had asked my doctor many months before and with the flick of his hand he said, "Eh. I know about any risks. You're fine." I forgot about that until the night in the ER and after a priesthood blessing. I stopped taking the medication and lived through it. It wasn't until later when I got a different doctor in a different city and she was SHOCKED. She couldn't BELIEVE the dosage I was on or that I survived.

The whole experience taught me 1) death isn't scary as long as you're on the Lord's side (following the commandments) 2) stand up and when you can't, ASK for help 3) some of our trials can even bless others, if we turn to God.


Which brings me to this time in my life. My last doctor's appointment, I had to fill out a lot of paperwork and the doctor first asked, "Um, you checked this box of wanting to harm yourself or die? Do I need to discuss hospitalization?" My husband jokes that I'm too honest for my own good. If someone asks me a pointed question, I simply have to answer it honestly. I shrugged my shoulders and said, "Well, I'm just a LITTLE SUICIDAL." I've struggled off and on with severe depression because I feel as though I'm a burden or that things won't improve. I have learned that with MS, the brain lesions and changes in your brain can literally cause more depression. Then the changes your body experiences (not communicating with your brain, as well as the loss of abilities), cause depression. The increased depression, insomnia, worry, stress, etc. also makes MS worse. It's a vicious cycle. In looking back, I realize the times when I was the most depressed were also when my MS was at it's worst and in active demyelination (or PCOS or Hypothyroidism). A big part of my depression is in looking back to what I used to be able to do. I'm naturally a worker (my parents raised me to be), a perfectionist (pretty sure I came that way), used to take too much pride almost in finding the silver lining in a wretched situation or handling difficult situations on my own, and am a social introvert who loves to serve and be connected. All of these 'strengths' (or weaknesses, depending on how you view them) have had to be re-evaluated on my side of the mirror. The other part of my depression and anxiety is the intense stabbing pains that I've experienced in the past two years. I'm on my third medication and it still can't manage the 'suicide disease,' (Trigeminal and Occipital Neuralgia). I also jerk at different points throughout my body every minute of every day (2-5 times at least each minute-I even jerk myself awake throughout the night). I've gone from maybe jerking 20 times in small ways a day to about 1,000 - 2,000 times a day (maybe 100 times big jerks). I also feel like bugs are crawling on me a lot. My memory is eerily bad, again, as well.

The doctor turned to my husband and he confirmed, "These stabbing pains are so bad that nothing will help and she just wants the pain to end." She looked back at me, mostly satisfied and relieved, and said, "I only ask because few people ever mark that." I shrugged, laughed it off and told her the pains are bad (understatement) and I struggle from time to time with the fact that I can't do what I used to. A while after I laughed to myself by my immediate reaction I always have in awkward situations. When the doctor had asked about my suicidal check mark, I was very aware of her concern, stress, and big eyed, "UH OH. What do I do?" My knee jerk reaction was (and ALWAYS is) to not make anyone uncomfortable. I thought, "She is nervous and I've gotta make her feel better. Minimize" I quickly told her I was just a 'little suicidal,' so she didn't have to worry.  What is a LITTLE suicidal, anyway? Maybe they should ask a suicidal scale like they do pain in the hospital. On a scale of 1-10, 1 being on cloud 9 and 10 being dead...where are you? Thankfully I've never been to the point that I needed hospitalization. There have been times it's been bad enough I had to talk myself through not wanting someone else to find my body. It is just enough pause, to think of the sorrow they would experience, to keep me from doing it. Other times my depression is a level 3-like where is the chocolate? 3 trucks full, please.

I'm grateful that my husband, parents, several friends, and siblings have been there when I'm at a level 9. And they've been there to celebrate the times I've been on cloud 9. I wish it was easier to talk about a level 9 pain emotionally as it is to admit a level 9 physically. It's funny how sometimes we rate and rank different things in our life, but often miss the boat entirely. My friend KB didn't believe she had hope or that she was ENOUGH. Beautiful enough. It was SHOCKING to me that she, Kerry Brook, the gorgeous red goddess, ever had a skewed view of herself. Labeling herself as a 1 when she was a 10! I told her when I lived near her that I thought she was talented, beautiful, and a blessing. But, I didn't tell her enough. I feel the same nagging, gnawing lack of self-esteem about myself. Too many women rate themselves a 1 when they are 10s. WHY do we let the little liar, satan, paint a distorted picture of our bodies, which he covets? WHY do we feel like we aren't enough when Christ says with him we are ENOUGH.

A while ago I posted about the WIDOW's MITE. My absolute favorite painting is James C. Christensen's Widow's Mite. I thought I understood the widow's mite. I thought I understood sacrificing, giving the last of all you had, and tithing. I have since understood this principle on a much deeper level. More than I could have ever understood, more than I would ever wish on another person. Financially, emotionally, socially, physically. In Luke 21, Jesus looked up, "and saw the rich men casting their gifts into the treasury. And he saw also a certain poor widow casting in thither two mites. And he said, Of a truth I say unto you, that this poor widow hath cast in unto the offerings of God: but she of her penury hath cast in all the living that she had." The mite was the smallest coins in circulation in Palestine (lepta). The lepton was a bronze coin worth 1/400 of a shekel (between 1/8th and 1/4 of a penny). Two lepta (mites) weren't even enough to buy one simple meal. Mark witnessed Jesus proclaiming, "This poor widow hath cast more in, than all they which have cast into the treasury: For all they did cast in of their abundance; but she of her want did cast in all that she had, even all her living." (Mark 12:43-44; Chieko N. Okazaki)

Maybe you have had to give your ALL. Not just your abundance, but even your wants, your dreams, your hopes have been asked, challenged, and questioned. Maybe you too have felt hopeless, helpless, and worthless. It may seem like nothing will ever change. You may only see darkness and pain ahead, even death looming over you as the widow may have. I am SO grateful to two friends, Kira and Christina, who have been incredibly supportive, loving, understanding and open. I have struggled immensely with the news of my friend's death and shared anger, frustration, sorrow, fear, and asked many questions. They didn't push me away, tell me to calm down, or minimize my pain. I am sure my emotions would have been so much more difficult had I found out after the memorial or weeks after her passing. I can jump to the worst possible scenario in a second flat and appreciate their openness and love so early on. It was a gift to share the anguish, reminisce through wonderful memories, and acknowledge the pain that shook my world, which I am certain pales in comparison to their grief. I later shared with others that I was struggling and have literally felt prayers. I still cry daily for KB, but it is now bearable. Today I feel like I can keep going. I have considered what I would tell KB if I could go back a week or two. Some of these thoughts I shared with her when we lived near each other, but I am afraid I didn't tell her enough lately. I feel like she is happier and comforting me through my struggles, telling me to take my own advice. Kerry Brook and all of my dear friends,

You ARE beautiful. You are made in the image of God (and our Heavenly Mother). If you can't see or see a distorted horror house reflection, get out, throw away that mirror and start seeing yourself through God's eyes. Pray for help to really see you for YOU.
You ARE enough. Even if all you have are two measly mites. What you have to offer is MORE than ENOUGH. It is exactly what you need to get through this life and come out conqueror.
There IS HOPE. There is ALWAYS hope. If you can't find it or feel it, look up instead of down. Reach out instead of pulling inside and hiding. There is more hope, light, life, and peace than you can imagine.
You HAVE HELPED me and continue to do so. I think we underestimate our influence on others and the reason behind our paths crossing. The last few years I've had help from a few VERY DEAR and inspired friends! A few especially don't even know that they have helped me at the very moment that I was pleading with God for an ounce of light and hope. In fact, I still hold onto those physical memories or tokens of generosity years later whenever I start to allow doubt to creep in and consume.
You have so much WORTH. (D&C 18:10, Proverbs 31:10, Luke 12:7)



Don't give up. I am here. I love you.

I feel like Christ says the same three things above and how many times do I try to shoulder the burden alone before I turn to him? What if Kerry Brook had reached out to me and we could have shared in the sorrow, I could have empathized with the raw pain, we could have cried and comforted each other. I can't live on what ifs and should've s. KB has taught me a lot, as have many friends and family. Sometimes just one step, both figuratively and literally, is too much for me. I've learned to rest, allow myself to slow down (I mean accept God's lesson to slow down), and not beat myself up over every fall, fail, and frailty.



I am sad that I can't help KB, but I am going to donate all my commissions to the Suicide Prevention Lifeline in her name and honor. It's interesting that this month's Ensign is about suicidal thoughts ("Every Human Soul is Precious," the top box of lds.org). https://www.lds.org/preventingsuicide/?lang=eng I may not influence any other person for good, but KB has definitely helped me. Thank you to those of you who have helped me along the way, especially those of you who have not been judgmental or critical of me, but have loved me despite my myriad flaws and walls.

A tornado touched down in a town near us and we went to see some of the damage. Sometimes people cross our paths in a calm moment of our lives and are there when everything is turned upside down and broken. 

Here is the link to the jewelry that will support The Suicide Prevention Lifeline. In fact, this afternoon I just learned that if you buy the $29 looks that give back, you will ALSO give back to various cancer awareness programs (until September 21st). https://lafsalott.origamiowl.com/shop/party/297756

WFPB Update

I've been eating Whole Food, Plant Based for a while now...although I say that with a little shrug. There have been some major slip ups and derailments that caused some major shifts and redirects too many times to count. Every failure is a flop that leads me closer to my mastery of this way of eating and uniting my soul a bit more, though. I'm learning quite a bit about myself, the journey, and this body of mine.

Consistency is key and NOT setting a deadline for my 'success' are pretty vital to me in particular.
I suck at moderation and have to cut it out entirely so my cravings don't creep up and captivate me.

Being "CASUAL" leads me to some "CASUALTIES." Melodramatic, I know. I haven't actually had meat since Easter, so I'm good on animal casualties. But, my body falling a part a little more feels like a casualty.

Timing will NEVER be perfect. I may never perfect this way of eating. But it's all about PROGRESS, NOT PERFECTION.

I do know when I eat this way, I lose weight, my intestines work better, and my stabbing pains & heat intolerance are a bit better. (I'm saying I can handle 71 degrees and lower and the power of a MILLION knives/axes reduces to 909,099). Every little improvement is a big deal for me, though. So, I'll take it! I've seen how others REVERSE their heart disease and no longer need bypass surgery or how others REVERSE their diabetes and no longer need ANY medications. I'm not expecting something as drastic quickly, but I do expect that positive results will follow.

I've learned for me to be successful LONG TERM, I have to have 3 key ingredients:

1. Purpose
2. Plan
3. SuPPort

Without a significant purpose beyond 'losing weight,' 'feeling great,' and tapping into the innate, I would fail every time. My health has declined so drastically that I am desperate for any slight improvement. No better purpose than when all of your sense become desensitized and your body matches the age of a 90 year old in your 30s. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone and hopefully others have a greater purpose to drive such a big change. 

PLAN, PLAn, PLan, Plan, plan! When my fridge and pantry get down to only two compliant ingredients that require cutting or cooking, I fail. I inevitably turn to the easy crackers or sugary treats for the quick pick me up. Having plenty of options that are easy, easily accessible, and don't take too much brain power at 7 pm has led to success. Batch cook, menu plan, and have back ups. 

SuPPorT~ I have the support of my husband, but he adds meat, milk, cheese, butter, etc to his foods. (Which I'm okay with...this is my journey). I needed extra help from others eating this way and found several on Facebook. It's been a huge blessing. I also have to involve God along the way and I am amazed at the difference it makes. 

Here are some of my Instagram (blessedms) posts specifically:

(Some were failures, like this steel cut oats with cinnamon and dried fruit)

(Because of my limitations, I use some processed foods. I hope to eventually cut out all, but until then I have found some good stuff). 

 

(I had 5 grain cereal or steel cut oats every morning for breakfast, until I realized I'm reacting to the oats. I found my LEAP results and sure enough...oats. =( Since cutting it out, my rash and issues cleared up within a few days).

My amazing hubby was able to prepare a good amount of food beforehand so I could just pull out what I needed and reheat in the microwave.