parenthood

When One Door Closes.

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Okay, so maybe it’s a big door.

On a normal basis I would be blogging almost constantly – somehow, someway, I have a thought. I always want to share something, tell a story, vent my feelings. It’s just occurred to me that it’s been quite some time since I stepped foot into my own world of writing. While I shadow over other blogs, watch, like, meander my way through others’ thoughts … I started to wonder when exactly I was going to update my own.

On April 3, 2014 – I will have a complete hysterectomy.

Yes, my opiate free days will be over for a short time, but they will be controlled, this is not the major issue and there is no failure here.

I have not ventured back to blogging recently because I have been suffering – physically. It is the worst pain in the world to handle when you cannot exactly pinpoint the cause. My battle to stay away from pain medications made it even more difficult. I realized in the process how strong I really am. I have a severe case of endometriosis that has my uterus completely tipped backwards.

Ouch.

It’s also likely scar tissue from three c-sections that has caused this as well.

Pain by day, pain by night, pain is my middle name.

We are finally tackling this problem. At the age of 34 I will go through complete menopause. My child bearing days are over, my days of using PMS as an excuse for a mood swing and throwing the remote at the television (I just really wanted that winning touchdown) – they’re over.

It is a relief to know that – well, relief is coming. Soon, I will be able to live a normal life outside of my house and pajamas, away from my heating pad, and physical therapist. Soon, I will be able to lift my children without wincing, have a simple day without Advil.

(Yes, I do take Advil, sue me, but at least it’s over the counter)

When one door closes, another opens they say. While I’m stoked for this soon-to-be relief from this catacomb of misery within my poor body – part of me, as a female and mother, is almost sad. This body part is actually a place for me. Within my skin and bones this particular realm was home to three beautiful children that I held all to myself before they were born. You can call it flesh, or skin, or simply an organ.

This amazing piece of me – made humans.

I had already made the decision I did not want any more children – this part does not depress me.

(Yay for lifelong birth control)

I guess simply stated: to know that the part of you where your children first kicked you, head butted your insides, rolled around and caused you heartburn – is suddenly going to be cut apart and thrown into a hazmat bag, I can’t help but feel a tinge of sadness regardless of the problems it has caused me.

Yet this opens a door now. Instead of concentrating on the pain, and how to get rid of it, once it’s gone, I can actually enjoy watching my children grow up. I can interact. I can be their mommy – as I always have been, but have been failing to be the best because my body does not allow it.

My journey now becomes mental. It will be saying goodbye to something I’ve always held dear – the ability to have brought children into the world and to bake a human inside of my own body. These beings now exist because of what I was blessed with in the beginning – a functional system.

This functional system is now, well, not functioning correctly and so it’s with that deep pit of inner sadness, I have to let it go. It’s soon to be part of the medical waste compost unit “Do not Touch”. Little do they know when they throw those bags into the compacter – what they’ve thrown away is the home to three amazing souls and I will forever be thankful.

Yes, I’ve been sick. I shall soon to be returning to the blogging world hopefully in tip top shape and pain free.

And when I do, I will elaborate on the lives that I was blessed enough to bring into this world and how they have inspired me to be better, do better, and live better. Life will be different.

But the end of something is always the beginning of something else.

Let my new life begin and the witnessing of three little babies growing – outside of me – is now a concept I can grasp onto. I can now make memories, live in the present, and feel happy with what I have.

Even if my body is hollowed of what was always a gift. It just happens to be broken. I’m sending it out with a huge thank you, I appreciated you, I will never forget you – but moreover, I will always be grateful for the three faces that came out of there, for they are what makes me tick.

Let the countdown to a new life begin.

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Fear: The Side Effect of Hidden Truths

Franklin D. Roosevelt

Franklin D. Roosevelt

Tomorrow it will be 28 days.

Some would call that a month – I want to be technical. It’s 4 weeks.

It will be one month on January 20, 2014.

One month drug free.

I come out and say this bluntly – it’s as if I walked into a karaoke bar asking to sing “Rehab” by Amy Winehouse and announcing prior to my off kilter notes and ear piercing falsetto: “I am 4 weeks drug free”.

Last night I had a nightmare. I know with my residual conditions of chemical dependence I will experience such things as vivid dreams, sometimes the sweats still, long term problems with pain as well as mental trauma of flashbacks and anxiety. I already had Panic Disorder so I admit I’m a bit blindsided by MORE anxiety. Did I REALLY need more? Could we not have left that part out?

I digress.

I am a 34 year old mother. My blog originally started as one single post. It was my journey – my pathway to freedom from my own personal prison of drug addiction. It was a memoir of “how” “why” – Facebook posts I copied and pasted: a chronicle of sorts. To be honest, I never expected anybody to read that fully – it is beautiful and kind genuine hearts that have commented to me about how they read the entire post – which, if printed, is actually 14 pages.

New blog violation #1: keep it short.

Oops.

The nightmare was that I was presented two pills – my original drugs that got me dependent. In the dream I held those pills close and thought about it – yes, or no? I remember glaring into the deep, white speckles of Percocet  in front of me and popping them into my mouth – and swallowing.

Immediately I was gagging, washing my mouth out, and telling myself “NO! How DARE you?!”

I woke up shortly thereafter in a sweat. I woke up afraid – praising the Lord that it was not real. I had really woken up drug free (and it was snowing for the first time this season – a beautiful surprise from the hands of the Heavens). It made me feel thankful for the life I am currently living and that each day that goes by – is such a huge milestone.

Fear, to me, is a side effect of hidden truths.

When I was younger – I was scared of snakes. My parents could never figured it out – as I never had any real confrontations with snakes. Why was it that whenever one popped up on the back porch – I would wince, begin screaming, have the urge to vomit, and run. I still do this as an adult.

The truth behind it was that I’ve always had nightmares of snakes eating me (I hear some resounding laughter) – but no really. The truth  was that I have an inner fear I had not explained to anybody – I am fearful I will die in a ninja like war with a giant snake in the desert. It’s the same with my fear of elevators (and falling), and why I’m claustrophobic (I’ll suffocate).

It’s when I decided to really examine my fears that I discovered the truth behind how to overcome addiction – and for that matter, begin to deal with my other phobias that plague me and hold me back from doing simple things like walking through the grass at night.

I could not very well do it without owning up to the realization that these things had taken over my life.

How could I overcome such soulful madness, physical damnation, the inner twisting of my brain and organs – without truly owning up to what the deep root of the problem really was?

The fear of the unknown – the path I had never traveled down – is what prevented me from being able to originally recognize the problem. It was an achievement in itself that I shut the door on fear and opened the door to the truth. I let in those consequences of my actions and I took them head on. I knew there would be pain. I knew there would be suffering.

I also knew there would never be an open path to freedom from this monster if I did not behold the inner truth . Without that acknowledgement I would continue to live with that suppression of the soul that continuously played like a broken record to my brain “you cannot do it – you will continue to live in silence.”

Today I am no longer quiet. The silence is long gone – my fear of the unknown is a path I have already begun to journey down and now have reached the exit sign at Day 28.

I am choosing to stay on this path – this often difficult and winding road with such ups and downs – curves that could easily throw me off the cliff. Now that my truth is exposed the peace and catharsis comes in truly living the experience and learning a lesson – a lesson in which I plan to continue to share and hope to inspire people that live with their own fears of the truths that could potentially bring them onto the road home.

There’s no map for this. There’s no way to completely guarantee that everyone who catalysts themselves into the universe of recovery from whatever battle they are facing will truly succeed.

The success begins with telling the truth. It sounds so simple – like a history lesson on Pinnochio or George Washington.

Do not be afraid of admitting you are fearful, scared, and terrified of your own truths.

Remember – fear is merely a side effect of knowing you have them hidden secretly in the catacombs of your soul.

Freeing those truths will free your mind of fear and you shall face it head on – and with that, you have nothing to fear – be proud you have begun that walk up such a difficult mountain – maintaining hope, love, and faith.

You can get there – and there’s many hands to hold along the way. You are not alone.

Cheers to Day 28.

(and no, I would rather not invest in a pet snake, but thank you for asking)