Flares, flares, FLARES!

Meds to move

This is the real me.  

Flares, flares, FLARES!   It’s been awhile, so I guess it is time.  But I am not ready.  As I write this, the pain has traveled up my arms.  Forget about my feet.  The Frankenstein walk is very becoming and sexy.  To add to the mix, headaches.  Good times.

I need to go grocery shopping, but somehow I don’t think that will happen.  Just exhausted.  No amount of sleep helps because all you want to do is sleep.  Even going to bed at 7:30 at night just doesn’t give you enough sleep.  I hate to see when I am older. 

I have said it before and I will say it again, thank goodness for the kids at school.  They keep me moving and focused on them for the school day.  When the day is over and I have to go home, I collapse. 

One of my beautiful friends is able to control things naturally.  I know she sometimes still has a hard time though.  I wish I could do what she does; however, when I try to get off things all hell breaks loose.

I also worry about Shaun.  Already he is dealing with going to doctors, all having various diagnosis’.  How frustrating.  I know how he feels because I have dealt with this my entire life.  He was always a pretty healthy child, and I hope it continues into his adult life.  Hopefully this recent thing is just a bump in the road.

What is it like to go out?  I have no clue because I am too exhausted to do anything.  Sad…but I have learned that I have to do what is right for me and listen to my body.  Even though I hate what it says sometimes. 

Here is to all of us out there dealing with this crap.  May we gather strength from each other, be it face to face or through cyber land.

Epitaph

An epitaph is a short text honoring a deceased person.  Maybe other people, besides me, have wondered what would be said at their funeral.  Or, if you are like me, wonder would anyone show up?  What would be said?  Here lies Kathy, beloved mother, daughter, and wife.  She was accomplished in……   In what?  If you were to ask me, I have accomplished nothing.  Take that back.  Shaun is one of my accomplishments.  He is everything I wanted him to be…independent and strong.  Which is a good and bad thing.  But Shaun is Shaun and will be fine.  Every time I see a picture or hear his music, I smile.

Me, on the other hand, I don’t know.  I guess the empty nest thing can really get you thinking.  I look around and just don’t know.  If I walk into the light this second, what would it be like?  Can I really say I have done and accomplished great things?  Not really.  Yes, I had a child; however, so do a lot of other women.

I have heard people say death is not a scary thing.  To me, it is.  If I think about it, I get in an emotional turmoil.  My heart beats quickly and I panic.  I think to myself, “You have not accomplished anything in your life.  Nice job.”  But I really shouldn’t worry because I won’t be here anyway.  Dust to dust, right?

When I think about things I want to accomplish, it would be just a dream.  When I was younger, I was a type of powerhouse.  I wanted to be the best in everything I did, and if I didn’t I would try until I did.  Playing 2^nd clarinet was not good enough, I must play 1^st chair.  I must be drum major.  Those things happened because I pushed myself.  When I was younger, a much better epitaph could have been written.

Even Mozart wrote his Requiem, which is beautiful and what I am listening to now.  But Mozart was somebody.  I am……..???

Bringing It Back

Nothing screams style more than skirt pants.

My mom is a smart lady.  She has always said that all styles come back around.  As I look in some stores, to my horror, the 80’s attire smacks me in my face.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, I loved the 80’s attire.  I think back then the more obnoxious the better.

Way back in the 80’s, big earrings were the “it” thing.  When I see the big earrings on display now, I was shocked that they were so light weight!  When I wore big 80’s earrings, back in the day, your earlobe would practically be down to the ground they were so heavy.  That didn’t stop us 80’s girls.  We wore them and didn’t complain.  Well, we wore them and maybe there were some complaints, but we kept it to ourselves.

You would think with all the bandanas that were owned, there were many teens who were working hard labor jobs.  Jobs that needed those bandanas to wipe brows from the sweat that was dripping from foreheads.  Yeah, right.  The bandanas were for style.  Not the red and blue ones, those were too boring.  They were striped like a tiger or leopard.  Sometimes, they were fluorescent.  Instead of wiping our brows with them, you could see many a male wearing them on their leg or arm.  Or, if they were in a band, they were hanging gracefully from the microphone stand.  Don’t even THINK about wiping your sweaty self with one of these.

How about those jeans?  Stonewashed, whitewashed, a little bit of this and that washed.  You didn’t wear them for comfort, you wore them tight.  I remember many times lying on my bed zipping up those jeans.  Sometimes, I would even have to put a safety pin on the inside just to make sure they would stay closed.  I did a lot of standing during those days.  Why sit and be comfortable?  The point was to look good.  If you sat, you ran the risk of safety pins breaking open, your fly flying open, and your gut going through the opening of your jeans.  Nothing says sexy like your stomach poking through.

The best for last?  Hairspray.  The bigger the hair, the better.  Aqua Net was the choice, but I also added Stiff hairspray.  I could have gone through a hurricane and tornado combined and my hair would have stayed.  Doing your hair was dangerous with these hairsprays.  All I can say is, thank goodness the flaming shot was not popular back then.  There would have been many hair fires to put out.  Yes, I was one of those people who burnt their hair.  My friend Maureen was having a party at her house.  I went into the bathroom to check myself, lit my cigarette and then asked myself, “What the heck is that smell?”  You guessed it, the bangs caught fire.  Just a little though and I needed a trim anyway.  Washing your hair the next day was always a treat.  With all the gunk on my hair, I would have to wash it twice.  Then, I would repeat the whole hairspray thing after the cleaning.  I am sure my hair was saying, “Why is she doing this to me?  She does a spiral perm and then weighs me down with this stinky hairspray!”

So as I sit back and watch the styles come back, I will continue with my no perm straight hair with just a touch of hairspray.  The picture of me is in one of my 80’s attire, again back in the 80’s not now.  Oh how cute the little skirt over the pants were; however, I will take my sweats for comfort any day.

Let's go on an adventure

If you ever feel like going on an adventure, feel free to come with me to Chicago.  I must add, the adventure is also with my parents.  Be prepared to bring snacks, your Ipod, your blinders, and Imodium.  I love my parents and once we get to our destination all is well and fun is had by all.  Key word is “get.”  Let me take you on the journey. 

Ah, Chicago.  A beautiful city full of one way streets and traffic.  Thank goodness for the Dan Ryan or the Toll Road.  An easy drive to get downtown.  No worries.  Wait, did I say thank goodness for the Dan Ryan or the Toll Road?  I am sorry, my bad.  You see our “adventure” begins by going on Route 41, or the beautiful and scenic route of Indianapolis Boulevard.  Oh, sure.  My dad tries to trick you into thinking you are taking the toll road; however, let’s exit onto 41 shall we?  Why not?  Let’s be adventurous.  After all, we are going on an adventure today.

Now, let’s take a Type A Personality, like myself, who loves a routine and just wants to get from point A to point B with no problems.  Mix this Type A person with the whispers from the front seat of the car saying, “Is this the turn?”  What do you get?  A stressed out Type A personality who has now brought out a cross and is praying the rosary.  Nice picture, right?

My parents can be nostalgic, which I know I am, too.  However, if I have to pass by a few hookers to go to a place where I used to frequent as a youth, you can bet I won’t.  Here is a story my parents tell me every time we venture down good old Route 41: “You know, Don used to live around here.”  Key words, parental units, USED TO!  As in, no longer do they live there.

As my parents are having a great time down memory lane, I continue to pray the rosary.  I also added my brown paper bag to breathe in and out of.  Too bad the car doesn’t have an oxygen mask that just pops down in case of an emergency.

Another thing I have heard numerous times during our adventure is:  “Wow, look at all the buildings boarded up,” or “These streets are in horrible shape.”  YOU THINK?  Gee, I wonder why they aren’t fixing those streets.  After all, you should have smooth pavement for the police officers to bust up that drug deal on the corner.  AND, for the firemen, they need to put those fires out prior to boarding up the buildings!  Duh!

We do always end up at our destination; however, instead of 30 or 40 minutes, it takes about an hour.  In case you didn’t know, the Dan Ryan and Toll Road do not have stop lights; however, the scenic route of Indianapolis Boulevard has plenty of stop lights for you.  The lights take about 10 minutes to change, so you have many photo opportunities to share with family or to post on Facebook.  Instead of looking at Cellular Field on your way to Chicago, you can look at the different groups hanging out on the corners or catch the people drinking out of a paper bag.  Do my parents know these people could want my oxygen mask, a/k/a brown paper bag, and try and take it from me!

I think you get the picture.  This is why I enjoy the train.  No worries.  They take you from point a to point b with no problems.  So, people, I ask you, why take the expressway and risk traffic when you can go the Cabrini Green route and risk being shot at?  Happy travels!

Dedicated to my mom and dad, the world’s most adventurous people I know.

Christmas is OVER

Twas the night before Christmas and all through the house, not a creature was stirring not even a mouse.  Or in my case, thing in the wall, thing on the floor, thing in my slipper, and thing in Shaun’s dresser.

As quick as Santa put a finger on his nose and up the chimney he rose, Christmas is over.  Where did it go?  I say this every year.  We hustle and bustle and as quick as we hustle, it is done….over….caput.  I do have to say, I am one of those people who wants everything down right after Christmas.  The cute decorations are not so cute and seem to be closing in on me.  My Mickey Claus and Minnie Claus now have their arms outstretched in a zombie like way, and moving in a menacing way.  All these cute decorations NOW look like clutter!  I know I am not alone.  Some may admit, some may not and just nod their heads in agreement.

So it goes, another Christmas over and another year gone.  Christmas doesn’t have to be just a once a year thing.  I like to think I have Christmas in my heart all year long, where it counts.  Spending time with family and friends throughout the year.  Knowing it is not the monetary presents, but your presence that counts.

This brings me to my final thought.  COME ON SUMMER!  Bring on the sunlight.  Get rid of dark thirty already.  J

Dedicated to all of us suffering on the inside

It is time for me to get on my podium and say to all of us suffering on the inside, “I get it and understand.”

Autoimmune diseases are evil things living in your body.  This is how I continue to describe an autoimmune disease to people.  “It is like an army in my body where my cells are wearing helmets and as soon as they see “good cells” they attack.”  As in many wars, nobody is a winner.  In the Battle of AI, no winners are allowed.

I get my strength from many.  My best friend gets up every day for work.  I know what she battles daily yet she continues on.  She looks fine on the inside yet again, the army inside of her attacks.  You would never know because if you go up to her, she has a smile on her face.

My girlfriend from high school has two little ones and she is so brave and has so much courage.  Battling an AI disease is hard enough with a grown child; however, having little ones that need your attention at all times is difficult.  I can only imagine her daily issues and pain, and yet she continues on.  We gather strength from chatting and listening to each other.

There is a mother where I work whose child is now a 2^nd grader.  When this child was in kindergarten, you would never have known she was sick and in and out of the hospital.  His homework was ALWAYS complete, on time for school, etc.  Yet her army inside of her was attacking at full force. 

I go to the doctor this Wednesday, ready with my list of issues.  The latest issues are falling and the neverending exhaustion.  I think the falling issue is due to the feeling of stepping on nails when I get up.  I have not mastered the art of nail walking or walking on fire yet.   My bruises that I’ve had for over two months still glare at me.

Many have told me I look great; however, I hate the mirror.  I try and not look at it because when I do I want to go down a dark path.  I stand in front of the mirror and glare at that person in the mirror.  When I bounce around at work and don’t see myself, I picture me as a healthy pretty me.  How about this one, I weigh more now than I did pregnant with Shaun.  Thank you steroids, et al for all you do to my body to help me look like a bloated mess.

How am I dealing?  Work, work, and more work.  When I move, the stiffness eases up.  Yet I know I have to get some rest in somewhere.  When I work on Saturday, the shop I work at has mirrors behind the cabinets.  All I see are these huge black eyes, which makeup does not cover.

Another way to deal?  Music, music, and more music.  It takes my mind off things.  God help me if Adele comes on though.  Yikes!  She can bring a massive sob.  J  I sing as loud as I want because it makes me happy.

Today is another day.  I am quiet, which is something for me, and I continue on.  I may get to things around the house, or I may not.  I just don’t care.  I just want to make it in this world to see Shaun grow up.  I made it past the deadline of high school, now I need to get through college.  Then whatever Shaun does after that…..I want to see or hear.

One day at a time, one minute at a time, and sometimes, one second at a time.

Hugs and love to all the AI people out there.  I understand your suffering.  With each other we can gather strength… one day at a time, one minute at a time, and sometimes, one second at a time.

The Empty Nest

The empty nest.  Isn’t this what we strive for?  We raise our children to the best of our abilities and then let them go free.  Free to fly.  Free to experience life, their life.  Key words?  THEIR life.

Since Shaun is now studying in the Country of Tasmania, I am cursing myself for raising an independent child.  Oh, you didn’t know Columbia College moved to the Country of Tasmania?  Well, in this mom’s eyes it might as well be.

I prided myself with making Shaun this independent person when he was growing up.  I did this in every aspect of his life, from school to even doing his own laundry when he decided to continue to put dirty clothes on top of clean clothes.  Now, at times, I want to kick myself.  I keep saying to myself, “You did this.  You made him independent, ready to face the world and leave your nest.  Now look at you?  You are a mess.”

Definite kudos to Shaun for his independence and never afraid to try or do anything.  When Shaun was in 3^rd grade, his teacher had said to me, “He may not appreciate what you are doing now, but in the future he will thank you.”  This quote from his teacher has stayed with me for years.  Again, shame on me for raising this independent person.  I know I shouldn’t shame myself but pat myself on the back.  It is due to all my pushing that Shaun has succeeded in many things, from spelling, to writing, to music.  When Shaun would write, I would always say, “Visualize what you are writing.  Can you see what you are trying to say?”  What do you know; lyrics are now written on paper instead of stories.  In all actuality, musical lyrics do tell a story.

As I continue to kick myself for the independence, I guess I also need to give myself a break and realize it is ok that I am feeling this way.  Feeling possessive of this creature I molded is normal.  Just as I was there when Shaun took his very first steps from the nest while holding my hand, I am also the one who released his hand to fly into the start of his life….away from my nest.