Out of the Ashes

Nearly every mother faces an identity crisis when our children grow up. And believe me, it is every bit as profound as that faced by our children when they cross the threshold to maturity. I'm not sure it isn't worse.

My friend, Chris D. made a poignant post in her blog, A Parent Spectrum Disorder, today. She still has adolescents at home but the day is fast approaching when she will have an empty nest. As I wrote my comment to her, I realized it was not just meant for Chris. There was something in it that tickled my ear and I was forced to think about it.

"It is the tragedy of motherhood that we sacrifice ourselves on that altar. We make ourselves literal burnt offerings. They grow up, leave, and we lie in the ashes, forgotten. We have to resurrect ourselves. And when your spouse dies, it is even worse because there is no one to help lend a hand if you need it. Grab your husband and make your life what it was before children. You can. You must. It ends too soon to waste time."

Resurrection. I'm not God. I have no real idea of how to do that. My children left home years ago. They've come back a couple of times since but that was different. I was dealing with adults who didn't want anything but a place to sleep, eat, and no rules. Once on their feet, they were gone again. At first it was hard to deal with adult children but after a few months things balanced out, rules were established in spite of them, and we were fine. It helps if your kids like you a little but that's another post. It is nice to know mine actually like me a lot.

I think even when they come back you fall back into the Mom role. You aren't yourself. You're the person you became when you heard that first cry. You're the healer, comforter, protector, accountant, landlord, chief cook and bottle washer. When they're born your world became this tiny place initially filled with dirty diapers and regular feedings. It expanded to regular bedtime battles and legos in the dark. From there it expanded to managing multiple schedules and shuttle duty, with binding up the bloodless wounds of teenagers. Then, rather sooner than you were prepared for, it was over. The house was empty, the laundry manageable, and you have no idea what to eat or how to cook for two. And when you looked, you didn't recognize yourself in the mirror.

My husband died and we had never really figured it out. How could we go back 30 years and be the fun loving duo who looked for exciting things to keep us interested in one another. We were looking but ill health and death interrupted us and before we truly got a chance to find that place again, he was gone, forever altering my perception and my world. 

Resurrection is no different for me than for any other mother. If anything, it is harder. Not only do we mold our personality around children, before them, if you were fortunate enough to have a spouse, we molded it around a spouse. The "two become one" is no joke. In a good relationship, you do become a single unit. Children further cement this and your identity shifts farther away from who you were single. 

So here we are, sans children. And we look in that mirror and we see lines that weren't there, shoulders that used to be straighter, necks that were once slender, too many chins, bags under eyes that once sparkled in laughter and now... well, sometimes they glitter in anger. We look...and a total stranger stares back.

I thought, once past the worst of the grief, I'd find ways to put the past behind me. I just knew... was positive... if I survived it, I'd be me again. I didn't realize that it would be impossible. Today, when I read my own comment to Chris the truth dawned on me. That girl, the one who laughed so easily, found excitement in everything she did, and was so creative... she was long gone. I am suddenly faced with the realization that I have to recreate myself. I have to become someone else. 

Who am I? What am I supposed to do now? For five years I've tried to figure this out. At first I thought I knew but with half of me missing, nothing fit. I no longer had an identity. The stranger in my mirror is truly someone I do not know. 

I forced myself to find ways to become involved in things I loved. I started crocheting again. I started sewing but neck problems put a crimp in that. I became a local Municipal Liaison for National Novel Writing Month and I started a local writing group and I connected with dozens of people online who loved writing. I began to write more. There was a sense that I was moving toward something. I had no idea what.

The last three years I've been too sick to care much who I am. Each day has been pretty much a struggle to get up, put in 8 hours and come home. The sense of forward motion stopped dead. There is still this woman who stares back at me from the mirror. Her eyes still glitter. I realize she's fairly angry that life is throwing painful things at her. She still lies in ashes.

So, although I can't prevent the slings and arrows of life, I must keep trying to find who I am. Stopping now is unacceptable because ... well, in truth, that is who I am. And maybe, one day, I'll wake up and look in that mirror find that, like the Phoenix, I have emerge from the ashes a completely new person.

Gloom, Despair, & Agony

Well, it isn't that bad. Really. It is Wednesday and the weather is lousy. I woke to gray cloud cover, everything was wet and cold. I hurt. Not many places but those places hurt a lot. As I sat on the edge of the bed I considered my alternatives. Pain or medicines that could give me cancers or worse. When it hurts that bad it is a hard choice.

Still, I managed to drag myself from the warm bed and get Sarah up for school. I would have stayed there for another 20 minutes but I forgot Sarah. She was not happy either. She wouldn't go to bed last night and she chattered for a good 20 minutes after lights were out.

We had our breakfast and by then, some of my pain was manageable. I took two generic 8 hour tylenol. The alternatives faded from my mind as the morning progressed and pain subsided to tolerable levels. But I am so tired and no medicine will fix that.

I'm concerned about the endless exhaustion. Epstein Barr, which I had for about 6 months last year, is suspect in Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. I've had fatigue before but not on the scale I seem to have it now. I can't get enough rest. I fall asleep easily but do not sleep long and when I get up I'm exhausted. My next move will be a sleep study. I need to know what is happening.

I had the MRI yesterday and already folks are asking... namely my children. I understand and appreciate their concern. Nice to feel cared for now and then. Still, no result until they send me a nice letter telling me or the doctor calls me. I have to say the numbness, while still happening, seems to be lessing each day. There's very little pain there now, thankfully. I still get twinges at certain motions and angles. I really believe the worst of it was caused by things in my neck swelling and compressing a nerve. I could be wrong.

My RA doctor will not believe me. I see her tomorrow. Her nurse informed me that the doctor thought I had an upper respiratory infection that caused the swollen glands, neck pain, and pond scum from my nose, despite not a single symptom - no sneezing, coughing, or breathing problems associated with such infections. She never checked my nose. Never commented on my neck pain. How would she even know? She suggested my Primary look into that.

However, since all symptoms, except the neck pain and numbness disappeared within three days of stopping the methotrexate, why would I bother? I saw my primary days after I stopped it and she found no sign of an infection but ordered the MRI to see if there was a herniated disk causing the neck problem.

So, there we have it. Wednesday weather is sucky. My life is exhausting. I very upset because as a result of all this, my writing has come to a screeching halt. I have ideas floating in my head but I can't seem to focus long enough to get them down. I hate it, hate it, hate it.

How is your week progressing? Anything exciting? I could use some excitement... well the good kind, not the usual.

What Are You Doing Here?

I got up this morning with reluctance. I so wanted to sleep in for a bit. I was just so tired. But I dragged myself to work. 

When I arrived they stared at me and asked why I was there. I stared back. Today is my monthly furlough day. I wasn't supposed to be there. After my initial confusion and annoyance, I came home. The damage was done. 

I've been sitting in the chair all morning, first reading my devotional, praying, and then just reading stuff online, news, blogs, ads, email. I don't think the devotion time was a waste nor the prayer but the rest of it was a wash. I could have been doing the bank reconciliation or taxes. So, I am frustrated with myself because I would have felt better had I been able to get that extra hour of rest and I might have been able to actually accomplish something. 

I think I'll take charge and go do the bank stuff now. I hate doing it. I'm never happy with the results. Taxes won't be much better.

I think I will also attempt to get some writing done. Maybe that will give me some sense of accomplishment.

Pain & Things....

2014 by Cynthia Maddox 

There is no telling what tomorrow will bring, especially where I'm concerned. I have felt great today. Only a sore left pinky and a sore right knee. Pretty much everything else feels fine. No depression, no anxiety, no runny nose, no swollen neck, no cloudy brain, no unusual tiredness. Totally bizarre. Ah well, tomorrow is another day. I hope.

On a lighter note, my RA doctor's nurse called me today to see how I was doing off the methotrexate. I gave her the same spiel as the one above. She said my doctor wants to suggest another medicine. Yes, you heard me. I'm have no inflammation and I need another med. Avara. Not much better than methotrexate in that regard. Most of the same symptoms. You can have a fatal liver failure in as little as 6 months! Wow.

I've been force to evaluate what quality of life I want. Crippled hands and feet and pain or death. Gee, I dunno, what do you think?

Anyway, I see her Thursday. I'll say no for now. I ordered this stuff that was recommended by my son's pastor in Arkansas. I got last week and started using it on Friday. Isotonix OPC-3. A powder you mix with a small amount of water and drink once a day. Supposed to help with inflammation. Well, I don't know. I stopped taking the methotrexate a week ago this past Saturday. I had moderate pain in my joints and I was taking two Tylenol 8hr pain reliever three times a day. The pain receded but only taking the Tylenol. Since Saturday, I have not taken the Tylenol but about three times all total. So, is the stuff working? I don't know. I could just be at the end of the flare. It could be the weather improved. It could be prayer. It could be anything. This is the frustration of RA. You don't know until it happens.

Tomorrow I go for the MRI on my neck. I have to say, today the neck is better. Dave told me he had been having his church pray for me. So, maybe that is what happened there. It is better, much better. I still go numb when in certain positions but I don't think it is happening as quickly or as extensively. I'm thankful, whatever the vehicle. All thing work together....

Now, I'm headed for bed. Yes, early. I woke up this morning before the clock and allowed myself to lie there and wake slowly. The clock snooze is usually so annoying but it wasn't this time because I was actually awake. I wasn't very sore when I got up and I think the slower pace helped.

The one thing that really helps is sleep. If I get lots of good sleep, I feel much better. Problem is, the sleep I usually get is not very good. Too short, disturbed, and pain-filled. So the solution is part of the problem.

Still, I'm hoping for another good day. Pray for this MRI. They're looking for a herniated disk. I'm not. I don't think it is there.

The Winding Stick

This is how I do it. There may be other or better ways. This works for me.