My, How Things Change

Today could have been a terrible, no good day.  Not so long ago, it would have been; however, I have finally learned that I am the one in charge of how I feel.  People can say and do whatever, but it is my choice as to how I feel.  

You see, today is my former best friend's birthday   Last year I sneaked into her house and decorated it so that she would come home to streamers and balloons and know that even though we couldn't see each other that day, that I loved her.  

Today I couldn't even text her a greeting. 

Times change.  People change.  

But rather than get all bent out of shape because of something that is beyond my control, I decided to focus today on the fact that I am blessed in oh-so-many ways.  I didn't get upset or cry or even get angry; I simply noted the day on my calendar, said a prayer for blessings on her special day, and then moved on.  

Someday, perhaps, things will change; I hope they will.  But for now I'm finally, finally learning to be content with my life just the way it is. It's taken a lot of prayer, a lot of patience, a lot of support from my hubby, and a really great counselor that has helped me see that I don't need to give others control over my feelings.  

Today, and every day, I choose to find my invincible summer.  

Fibro 999, Sherry 0

Today I had to do something awful.  I had to write a letter of resignation from teaching ONE class once a week for twelve weeks.  ONE.  I can't even feel well enough on a regular basis to fulfill such a small obligation.  I am disappointing students, parents, the school board, myself, and worst of all, Darcy.  

You see, it is a parent-led co-op and without a parent there, Darcy can't go.  With David being the sole source of income, he cannot take off and take Darcy to Friday School each week.  I never know if I will feel like going (and lately I never feel like doing anything before 11:00am because it is usually close to 4:00am before I get to sleep).  It physically impossible for me to function on just three hours of sleep and continuing with Friday School would require that.  

I have been bawling all morning long.  I know I have limits and I recognize that continuing to try to go each week will result in a panic attack because of the stress of going or the guilt of not going.  That part I can handle.  

What I absolutely cannot handle is disappointing my child.  She loves her classes and her teachers and without me there, she cannot go.   I am a source of constant disappointment to her because I cannot do things that other "normal" moms do.  She understands as much as any nine year old can, but that doesn't mean she doesn't get upset when we miss out on social and educational experiences.  To disappoint her once again is unbearable.  

Chronic illnesses and disabilities are simply cruel.  I would give anything to not continue to dash the hopes of my child. 

Holy crap, I haven't posted in four months!

What can I say?  It's been a busy four months.  Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, Darcy's birthday... There was something big every month, and on top of that, I've been in a bad fibro flare since September (absolutely my longest and worst flare ever).  Plus, I'll be the first to admit that I'm lazy about the whole blogging thing.  I feel as if it is more of a public diary and no one really wants to read it.  No biggie, though. 

Things that are new since the last post: 

Rumple and Chloe

• two new kittens and two new mice
  
• I am journaling daily in two different journals, one a guided journal and one a perpetual journal
  
• I am following along with Ali Edwards's One Little Word, with my word for 2014 being CONTENT (you can see the types of things I'm working on at my Pinterest board for OLW)
  
• I am teaching a class at Friday School based on the book Read-Aloud Plays: Classic Short Stories
  
• I threw a fun-filled slumber party for Darcy and her friends on New Year's Eve and again on Darcy's birthday.
  
• I have found a new television series to obsess over in Pretty Little Liars (which has an awesome soundtrack, by the way)
  
• I colored my hair back to it's natural dark brown (at least I think that is its natural color)
  
• I've come to accept that some former friends have decided to remove themselves from my life, and that if they can't accept me for who I am, it is their loss and not mine (part of that whole being content thing, right there)
  
• I've not only accepted that we won't have more kids, but I've decided I don't want any more.  I've gone from "I want a baby" to "If we get a kid, I'm with Darcy in thinking that she should have an older sister."  Seriously, I really like the way my life is and a baby would screw everything up.  (Hey, that's another part of content!)

The school section
of the Mom Cave

• I have a new Mom Cave (the former family room) for my Thirty-One business items and inventory, all the school books for Darcy's home school adventures, and all my craft supplies
  
• I'm starting to look more into essential oils for medicinal purposes
  
• and, I started selling my awesome Magic Menu Boards to help out other busy moms.

 See!  I've been busy!  

 My current pet peeve is one that has been bothering me a lot lately.  It's those people who do not have a chronic disability, nor do they live with someone with a chronic disability, yet they say things such as "I know how you feel."  No, you don't.  You don't know how it feels to live with constant pain 24 hours a day with no relief.  There's never a day where I can say I'm not in pain; it is always either tolerable or intolerable.  You. Have. No. Idea. Don't demean what I live with by saying that you know what I'm going through.  It just makes me lose a little respect for you when you say things like that.  Please, take a moment to read The Spoon Theory and maybe you'll understand a little bit what it is like to live with chronic pain. 

Furthermore, I feel as if I'm am often judged because I don't look sick.  I can force myself to get dressed and put on makeup and participate in activities, but that doesn't mean that my body isn't screaming at me every second.  If I don't make an effort and always look as badly as I feel, I'm judged for trying to gain sympathy or, even worse, being a hypochondriac.  If I do make an effort, then I'm judged for faking being sick.  It's honestly a no-win scenario when you are dealing with an invisible illness.  I may not look sick, but then again you don't look dumb.  I guess it all evens out.