Fibromyalgia for Dummies

Right on the heels of my last post, when I was all super-Zen and warm-fuzzy about decluttering my life, I was smacked down by The Fibro Flare From Hades.  Oh, how the mighty have fallen (I just totally made up that phrase, but I'm thinking it's going to catch on). 

I hurt, guys.  I hurt real bad (said in my Napoleon Dynamite voice...  Does anyone get that reference?), so I've been a little on edge this week.  And last week.  I'm grouchy.  Actually, there is a more colorful word than grouchy to describe me, but I won't say it.  You can toss about your own proper nouns and adjectives as you see fit.

And did I say I hurt?  Real bad?  All I want to do is beat someone with a sockful of nickels.  Is that so wrong? 

I'm at my most creative, you know, when I'm grouchy and in pain.  Suffering produces Genius.  I'm like Hemingway that way.  I'm sure you've all compared me to Hemingway many times.

But...  As usual, I chose to set aside an opportunity to create anything remotely close to Genius and blog, instead.  I came up with this little top ten list for all my fibro peeps, or anybody who knows/loves someone living with chronic illness or pain.  This is the product of five years' worth of anger, impatience, frustration and pain.  It may seem whiny and self-serving, but it comes from a genuine desire to help other people in my position (and also to make some of you shut up... but mostly the first thing).  And who knows?  It may benefit us both by keeping one of us from beating the other senseless. 

Take a look to determine if any of this applies to you.  If so, know that I still love you ...but I'm adding nickels to the sock as we speak. 

TOP TEN THINGS TO AVOID SAYING OR DOING TO SOMEONE IN CHRONIC PAIN, LEST YOU BE BEATEN WITH A SOCKFUL OF NICKELS:

10.  "It's probably this weather (/time of the year)."
You say this because your joints (or ears, scalp, back or butt) ache(s) when it rains, I guess.  I'll admit, I'm being harsh and overly sensitive with this one... But it's because I hear this All. The. Time.  And I've reached the end of my patience.  Look, I know you mean no harm, but please stop asking me if it's the *#%$ weather.  It's not.  It's Fibromyalgia.  Google it if you don't know what it is, because I shouldn't have to explain it to you every-flipping-time it rains.  Here. I just Googled it for you.

To be completely fair, there is some evidence that fibro pain can flare with changes in the weather, in some people. But it is not caused by weather changes, and personally, I don't notice any correlation between weather and a flare.

One of these days, I'm going to respond to this with, "Really, Al Roker? Is it the weather? Maybe it's the phase of the moon... Maybe it's planetary alignment... Hey- maybe it's your breath causing me pain right now."  If you are the unlucky soul standing before me on the day this happens, I humbly ask in advance for your forgiveness. 

9. "May I count on you to (fill in the blank... teach a Sunday School class, participate in the bake sale or fundraiser next month... whatever)?"

There's nothing wrong with this question, right?  I don't mind being asked to "volunteer" for things.  I LIKE to volunteer for things as I am able, and I WANT to participate in life...  as I am able, BUT...  If you're going to ask, please don't get so bent if I have to respond with: "I'll have to wait and see," "I'll try," or "I'll let you know." I'm NOT being vague, non-committal, or inconsiderate, so don't judge or get frustrated. I'm doing the best I can to accommodate you without making promises I'll have to break later. I'm sorry if that interferes with your planning. It sorta interferes with mine, too. 

No matter how much I may want to participate (and I really, really do), saying Yes to anything feels like a lie to me. The only honest answer is "I don't know."  I never know.    Even with my own children, every promise is prefaced with "If I feel good that day, maybe we can..."

Here's the thing...  If you know someone living with chronic pain or illness, that person is living day-by-day.  And that's not by choice.   By all means, invite them to events and encourage them to volunteer or participate.  Just be understanding and don't put pressure on them to commit. 

Right: "We're having a pot luck after the meeting.  I'd love for you to come if you're able."  

Wrong: "I need to know if you're coming to the pot luck and what you plan to bring."

(Obviously, some events require a firm Yes or No and it's not always possible to take a wait-and-see approach to accommodate one person.  I don't expect you to make special allowances for me.  Just don't be so pissy if I'm not able to commit!  If you must have a firm commitment, ask someone who is able to give one.) 

8. "My girlfriend's sister had her some 'o that fibomerralgah... or somethin.  Maybe it was cancer?  She took (fill in the blank... bee pollen, yak dung, cayenne pepper, skunk pee) and she got better."
If we're good friends, I don't mind when you do this.  It shows you care and want to help, and I appreciate that!  But if we're more casually acquainted? Thank you for showing an interest, but... 

You must realize that some of the ideas floating around out there are batcrap crazy, right?  And between the prescriptions, natural remedies, and stupid Internet cures scams I've fallen for out of desperation, I've tried quite a few things. I also try to stay current on the research. If I need any other advice, please let me ask you.

Along these lines...  Please do not ask me which meds I've tried or am currently taking (unless we're really close, or you also have fibro and we're comparing notes). That's a pretty personal question. If I want you to know, I'll tell you. 

7. "But you're ALWAYS tired!"
Why, yes. Yes, I am. You're quite the discerning one, aren't you?  So astute.  See, there's this thing called fatigue... That's part of it. Chronic fatigue, exhaustion, pain and weakness.   Chronic means it doesn't really stop, so that would be a key word, there. 

The problem with this type of remark- aside from the obnoxiousness of stating obvious things- is it's never a mere observation. It's packed with the implication that the fibro peep is not really tired, she is just lazy or making the same old excuse to avoid doing something she doesn't want to do. That's crap.  She really IS that tired. 

6. "Do you think some of this might be, ummm... weight-related? I lost 15 lbs and I feel so much better!"
Really, you little snot?  15 pounds?  That's awesome! Congratulations! Do you have fibromyalgia? Oh...  No?  Okay. Then, wait right here. I have something I want to show you. It's in a sock.  You're gonna love it!

5. "I hear exercise helps."
Um... Yes, it supposedly does. I'll make you a deal: 

1. Let me run over your leg with my car. Just one leg. No biggie.
2. I'll encourage you to jog around the block to see if it helps you feel better.
3. Afterwards, you will have unlimited permission to tout the benefits of exercise while I'm in unholy pain. 

Until then, how about you go for a five mile run... and maybe don't come back?

4. "But you don't LOOK sick!" 
Ummm...  Thank you, I guess...???  Is this a compliment, or an accusation?  Are you simultaneously acknowledging the fact that I look awesome, while insinuating you don't believe I'm sick?  Because that's what it sounds like.

Fibro has absolutely nothing to do with appearance. There's no swelling, no oozing (thank God), no redness, no huge, itchy welts.  I can't help it if I'm able to look absolutely fabulous (snort) while I feel like crap.  Maybe I'm great at faking it?  Didja think of that?  Doesn't mean I'm not miserable on the inside. 

Sure, some days you can definitely see I'm in pain.  My facial expression, being in the same jammies for days, and walking like Frankenstein's monster are clear indicators that I'm having a bad flare.  BUT, looking "good" does NOT mean I feel good. 

While we're on this subject of what, exactly, looks like sickness... 

Seeing me at the mall today after I was too sick to attend church or some event yesterday does not mean you caught me in a lie- so put your pistol down, Sheriff.  It means I'm having a good pain day (because every day is a pain day- there are just differing levels of good and bad) and I'm happy for an opportunity to get out of my house and get something accomplished while I have the chance.  Maybe you could try being happy for me, too.  Or maybe just pull that big stick out of your... 

Moving on...

3. "I've told you this twice already!" (Or, "You told me this twice, already!")

I'm brain dead, guys.  Chronic pain becomes "louder" than what's going on around you, if that makes sense.  If you have migraines, arthritis, or other pain problems, I'm sure you can relate.  Pain takes up all the space in your head. You get stupid.  Unfortunately, my stupid is long-term.  They call it Fibro Fog. And I hate it. As much as the pain itself.

I used to be halfway smart, you know.  And I had an amazing memory.  Uh-MAY-zing.  Not Marilu-Henner-amazing, but amazing.  You could come by, all apologetic and sheepish over the 20 bucks you thought you owed me, and I'd say, "No. I specifically remember you paid me back already. It was a Tuesday, last April. You were wearing a red and white shirt.  I was playing Def Leppard (cuz I'm awesome). We were standing in my kitchen, talking about the economy, and that reminded you of the $20 you owed me. You took two tens out of your purse.  The purse was black with a silver clasp.  One of the tens was all wrinkled...  'Member that?"

...And now? I sit in the corner and eat paste. Then I blog three different times about the same paste-eating incident.  You could tell me I owe you $20 today, even if you know I don't, and I'd probably say, "Ok... Have you seen my purse? ...Do I own a purse? If I give you these 7 quarters, will that equal $20?"

And you would say, "Sweetie... Those aren't quarters. You're holding 2 Rolaids, 2 strawberry cough drops, and what appears to be the button that once held your pants closed. Did you know you're pants are hanging open?  Quarters are silver, hon. And you'd need two more things to equal 7... But good job! I'll ask Darrell about the $20. Go back to your paste."

2. "Have you thought of talking to somebody?" "Maybe you're depressed?"
Oy... Oy, oy, oy.  I'm adding more nickels. I mean it.  For one thing, the words 'talking to somebody' or 'depressed' are always said in a stage whisper, as if the subject is shameful. For another thing, the 'somebody' to whom you refer is a psychiatric professional, obvs, which is meant to imply my "pain" has an emotional or mental cause, and is not a "real" physical illness.

It's not that I think I hurt. I really, honestly hurt.

Depression is a serious thing- and just as real as fibromyalgia- so I don't mean to discount it. There are some similarities and overlaps between the two conditions. Fibro patients can and do become depressed. Of course they do. Being in pain 24/7 isn't fun. But the pain didn't come from the depression- it's the other way around.

And? I'm honestly not depressed.  So please stop asking me that.  Good Lord, peeps.  Actually, I consider myself to be a pretty happy person.  And considering some of the crap we've gone through in the past few years, that's a rare and unusual thing.  Let me have it.  Quit trying to squash it. 

Think about it, guys... I've discussed my pathetic, poverty-stricken state, and the twin I absorbed as a fetus, aka my goiter-sized double chin, aka Chaz Bono- in the same post.   I've told you about marital woes.  And kid troubles.  I may have- during a moment of weakness- mentioned peeing my pants, but we pretend I didn't, so we don't post links to the evidence. I've shared thoughts on my jumblies- as if you'd ever want to hear them- and my Spanx-related fiasco...   These are deeply personal things, peeps.  Things that normal people try to hide.  Do you really think Depression would suddenly cause me to feel shame? That's where I get embarrassed and finally draw the line???  Pffft.

If I suffered from it, I'd probably tell you. Dontcha think?

The judgment and disbelief from morons who took an Intro to Psych class at a community college in 1993 make me depressed. Is there someone I can talk to about that?

1.  Playing "I Can Top That Pain!"
This is the same game women play when they start swapping labor and birth stories.  There's always a scuffle over who takes the prizes for Longest Labor, Hardest Labor, Most Disgusting Tear/Episiotomy, and so on.  Know what I mean?

People love to play this game with fibro, too, making statements like:

• "Oh, yeah, I had something real similar last year when I (fill in the blank... pulled a muscle/twisted my ankle/whatever).  It was excruciating."
• "Insomnia? Yeah, I have that, too. I went to sleep at, like, two this morning."
• "Chronic pain? Tell me about it! Try sitting at a desk all day! Boy, does my back hurt!"
• "My daughter has arthritis, so she REALLY hurts."

That last comment about the arthritis was made to me (in church!) by a lady with a big smile on her face, after she asked me how I was doing.  I made the mistake of giving her the honest answer that I wasn't feeling very well due to fibro pain.  And she REALLY made me mad.  I wanted to respond (in church!) with, "WTH does that mean?!?  'REALLY' hurt?!?  Are you flippin' kidding me?!"  But I didn't. 

It's not a contest, guys!  As a general rule, it's never a good idea to compare your pain to another person's, unless you personally know how their pain feels. It belittles that person's struggle when you compare her pain to something small or temporary, or contrast it with something that "really" hurts. That's insulting and rude. And obnoxious.  And the apex of assiness. 

I really do hurt. I promise. I'm not quite devious enough to mastermind this five-year long scheme in which I fabricate an illness or exaggerate pain just to steal the spotlight from your daughter's arthritis.

And... If you think you know what fibro sleep is like... Ya don't. Especially if you confuse the word 'insomnia' with the phrase "night owl." Staying up until 4 a.m. watching TV, then sleeping in until noon is NOT insomnia. It's what I call a solid 8 hours of sleep.  Fibro peeps do not sleep like you do.  There is no comparison.  So if you really want to make it a competition?  You lose.

Listen, I know life isn't all about me.  I know there are other, bigger things going on besides my piddly-a*$ pain problems, but you know what?  It's not all about you, either.  I'm not saying you shouldn't be allowed to talk about your own aches and pains, or constantly be subjected to my litany of complaints.  In fact (in real life, anyway- not on this blog), I try very hard NOT to do that.

But I shouldn't have to "prove" my pain to you or compete over whose pain is worse.  That's all I'm saying.  People with unseen illnesses don't want your sympathy or even need your empathy.  But would a little validation kill ya?

And there you have it.  The main point to take from this is...  People are idiots (Nooo, I'm Kidding!  Sort of). The point is- Just do unto others as you'd have them do unto you (another phrase I just came up with that I believe will catch on). 

Be willing to learn more, care more, speak less, give the benefit of the doubt.  Avoid stupidity when you can help it.

Choose compassion.  And avoid the sock.

The year in review...

Recapping 2012...  Where to begin?  Oh, I know.  How 'bout this?  2012 was even suckier than 2011.  And I reeaaally thought 2011 was our suckiest year ever.  Then, along came 2012 to prove to me that I was incorrect in that assessment.  Like a little smartypants, 2012 had to show me I don't know as much as I think I do.  2012 was a year full of surprises, such as: 

• I'm surprised I'm still married (I suppose the hub is, too- so I'm not dissing the man behind his back.  If we weren't Christians, I'm fairly certain we wouldn't be.  Yes, it's gotten that rough.  Seriously, how do non-believers stand each other when times get tough?  What do they fall back on?). 
• I'm surprised we still have a roof over our heads.  Business continues to be poor.  The hub has no job at all right now, in fact- and once again, we have no idea what's going to happen, which is just fanflippingtastic. 
• I'm surprised I'm not in a rubber room somewhere singing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star to an imaginary friend, which is not a testament to my strength, but to God's. 
• I'm still fat.  That one?  Not so much a surprise.

Boom.  Done.  My End of Year Recap in under 30 seconds.  Hope you liked it. 

Of course, I still see the good.  There was some good.  There is always something to be thankful for, right?  My kids are all alive, healthy and doing well.  We've had setbacks, but we're still here.  I have precious friends and family who have been there for us through all the stress.  And I know that, as bad as the past two years have been, it could always be worse.  So, thank God it wasn't!  Focus on the GOOD, amen?

How was your year?  I hope it was better than mine.  And I say that with absolute sincerity.  Because, did I mention?  My year?  Not so much with the good.  Honestly, I'm not sure this old girl can handle another year as rough as the last two.  Please, God, let 2013 be a good year; a year of health, happiness, safety, blessings and profitable jobs.

Maybe I shouldn't even be doing a post like this right now- one that requires reflection and contemplation- considering the mood I've been in.  I don't especially like people right now.  Just call me... Miss Ann Thrope. ...Or Eeyore. Take your pick. I'm giving up on humanity.

So consider yourself warned. Here it comes.

I've been in a funk, I guess you could say, although I really hate that expression.  Funk.  What does that even mean?  It makes me think of Sly and the Family Stone, or something (That band always looked like they were having So. Much.  Fun, y' know?  I'm sure there were considerable chemical enhancements going on.  But...  I digress).

Ehhnywaay. I've just been in a really dark, dreary slump since before the holidays and I can't seem to shake it.  I keep trying, but...  Meh. 

I felt a Scrooge-y mood coming on while being sick for so long.  That gets a little depressing after a while, especially around the holidays when you have much to do with a deadline looming and know you're not going to get it done.  I got better for a few days, then got sick again.  And I'm still sick.  I'm exhausted.  This year's batch of crud really seems to be hitting hard.  Lots of people are in the same boat, I know.  And I feel for ya.  My kids all seem to finally be past it.  Thank God for that.  Please, let it stay that way. My turn next!

Then Scrooge became mixed with... Oh, I don't know...  Sylvia Plath, maybe?  The shootings in CT...  God help us.  Was there anything worse than that?  That brought everyone down.  Obviously.  And then the crap storm that followed.  Good Lord.  What a downer. 

I don't know why I still get shocked over how easily (and quickly) supposedly sane, rational human beings can become, um... not sane and rational, but I do.  Sometimes it seems that all of mankind is striving to devolve into chimpanzees, flinging poop at each other.  And that makes me sad.  And scared.  

And so... I find myself often wishing I could just go back to bed.  And that's not good.

Remember how after 9/11, people kind of came together for a little while?  How that tragedy sort of unified everyone?  It didn't matter who believed what...  Everyone was on the same side.  For a few minutes.  People understood that the crisis involved all of us and it was bigger than any one person's opinion and that was good for us (not the tragedy, obvs- but the reminder that we, as Americans, can choose to unite when needed). 

Those days are gone, aren't they?  They're not coming back.  The crises we currently face as a society are many.  And serious.  But no one has that rally together, can-do spirit anymore.  It's a 'scr*w you' spirit, if anything.  There's no desire to find common ground; not in our government, and not with individuals. 

It rarely occurs to anyone now to think, "You know...  Maybe I don't have all the answers.  This particular moment may not be the appropriate time for me to shout my political opinions in your face.  Maybe this one flippin' moment isn't all about me and I should shut up for a second and listen." 

No... No one listens. No one compromises. No one respectfully disagrees or believes in "live and let live" anymore.  Now we only focus on the things that divide.  No, it's worse than that-- we try to divide.  We look for the scab to pick.  We incite.  We instigate.  We blame.  We put our fingers in our ears to block out every voice but our own and we blame.  We blame.  We blame. 

Society is unraveling and everyone just wants to yank on the threads.

Am I being a drama queen?  I honestly feel like the country's headed for Hell in a hand basket, although I've never been sure of what, exactly, a hand basket is (Is it just a basket with handles?).  Is that overly dramatic, or just an accurate observation? 

Well, well...  This was a little tangent I hadn't planned to explore.  But since it's out there, I'm going to go with it, because there's been a lot of stuff rattling around up here that needs to find its way out.

I guess I can actually tie this topic back into the idea of the New Year, and an annual recap...  Since the current level of political, social, religious, and cultural discord in our country is leading me into a new attitude.  I feel a change taking place in my heart and mind. 

I've recently learned (am learning) that anyone who doesn't want to know what I think is not really my friend and is not worth my time.  Sounds like a no-brainer, doesn't it?  But this 46 year old has spent years behaving like an awkward, nerdy 10 year old who convinces herself that the cool kids laughing at her are laughing with her and really are her friends. 

I touched on this a little in my last post, too- so I don't want to be a broken record, here...  But, I often feel it's me- and only me- who is left feeling like I should apologize after a disagreement for how I think or feel- no, for who I am- just to "keep the peace," even if I'm the one who was hurt or offended.  Do you ever feel that way? 

I'm done with that. 

2013 is going to bring out a new Michelle.  A more confident, happier Michelle, I hope.  I refuse to apologize for who I am anymore.  For what I do or say (if it's wrong)?  Yes, definitely.  But I'm sick of walking on eggshells to keep some people appeased and tiptoeing around the feelings of people who care nothing about mine.  I'm soooo sick of carefully trying to craft Every. Single. Flipping. Word I say, like I'm writing a legal document, for Pete's sake, so as not to offend someone who is bound and determined to be offended.  You know people like this, too, right?  Those who look for arguments?  Who pick out one or two words among the many you've spoken to zero in on and gripe?  They want to be offended, so they can complain about being offended, while not giving a rat's a** about offending you. 

So, my New 2013 Motto:  If you don't like me?  Okay.  Someone else will.  And doggone it...  I like me (said in my very best Stuart Smalley voice).

Does that mean the new, improved 2013 Michelle is going to be a Gigantic Horse's Butt?  No.  Well, no more than usual, anyway.  I'm not saying I will dig in my heels, try to be more offensive and refuse to apologize for it.  That would make me as self-centered, hypocritical and inconsiderate as some of my so-called "tolerant, open-minded" friends.

So, maybe the main change for the new year will not be so much in my own external behavior, but in learning to redefine the word Friend; learning to value myself enough to free myself from the people who have not earned that title.

I'm very aware there are times when I don't choose my words and deeds carefully enough and need to apologize (we all do that, peeps), so that won't change.  I try to be respectful to any friend- No, to anyone, really- who thinks differently than I do (within reason, of course. I wouldn't be respectful if you were proposing we go down to the crick and drown a bag of kittens, for example), and I certainly don't plan on changing that.  I like the fact that, while my opinions and beliefs are strongly held and deeply felt, I'm still able to sit and listen to yours without turning into a rabid dog going for your throat.  And I'd be oh-so-happy if others would extend the same courtesy to me. That's what a friendship is.  A give and take.  An open exchange.  A two-way street, and all that happy crap. 

I'm willing to consider the different angles of an issue.  I may not change my opinion, but I'll at least put everything on the table and have a look.  Some things are black and white, but many things are not.  And when we become entrenched and unyielding in those things that are not, we lose the ability to see the solution.  We lose Reason.  Not to mention?  We make total arses of ourselves and lose credibility, along with the respect of others. 

I do try to understand where others are coming from, and how they got there, even if I can't agree with their views or ideas. I hope to learn from them. I want to learn from them. That's what makes us grow and be better people, right? But frankly?  Some of my more Liberal-leaning friends acquaintances (no, my friends are not this obtuse, so we'll say acquaintances) don't really give a crap to learn anything from me. They don't feel they need to, after all. Because they're right and I'm wrong and I just need to benefit from their pithy, Anderson Cooper-y wisdom. It's clear that some of them think their Liberal views give them an intellectual and moral superiority. And I don't especially like being castigated or talked down to, thank you very much, like I'm just some big ol' dufus, especially by those who are too unintelligent to craft an argument without resorting to name-calling (BIGOT! CLOSED-MINDED! STUPID! CRAZY! JACKA**!) to make their point  (way to go, btw, on that whole anti-bullying thing, there, guys.  Dan Savage's anti-bullying campaign, for example, where he goes into high schools and rips pages from Bibles, calls the Bible "BS" and calls Christian kids pansy-as*ed really helps to drive home the message that tolerance is right and bullying is wrong). 

And by the way, as long as I'm rambling about the name-calling...  You know, being devout or steadfast in one's beliefs is not the same thing as being "closed-minded."  Closed-minded means: "Having a mind firmly unreceptive to new ideas or arguments."  (I believe, in fact, there is a pic of Dan Savage next to the dictionary entry).  I can be resolute in my own beliefs while still being receptive and willing to listen to and tolerate yours.  Can you?  When you accuse me of being closed-minded because my beliefs don't line up with yours, yet you won't take time to learn why and how I feel as I do...  It is you, dear one, who is the closed-minded one.

Anyhoozy...  I'm just finally realizing that if you don't want to hear what I think, how I feel, how I view the world...  If you can't listen to a few mentions of God, faith or prayer without cringing, mocking and rolling your eyes (while giving me the "Wow, I didn't realize you're such a moron" look)...  If the phrases "family values," "right to bear arms," etc., make you ready to pounce before you even bother to ask me what those ideas mean to me...  If I'm supposed to tolerate and accept your views with an open mind, while you refuse to tolerate or even listen, respectfully to mine...  Well, then...  You don't truly have an interest in KNOWING ME, do you?  Which means... (and this is where my awesome deductive reasoning skills come into play) you are NOT my friend. 

For the record, I disagree with my Conservative friends, too, sometimes- and they with me. I'm not trying to single out one crowd over the other, just calling it like I see it. I find there's a more willing, open exchange of ideas with them; more room to disagree than with Liberals. They don't seem as determined to impose their beliefs upon me when we differ, or as eager to "correct" my supposed errant way of thinking.

In all honesty, I will probably continue to go the extra mile with difficult people and offer them the respect I wish they'd show me, but I will no longer apologize for who I am.  I can't count the number of times the words "I'm sorry" have come out of my mouth when they shouldn't have; when I'd done or said nothing wrong.

I am a Conservative.  Conservative is not synonymous with Idiot, Bigot, Hate-Monger, or Racist.  I am none of those things. 

I am a Christian.  Being a person of faith does not mean I am irrational, unreasonable, childish, backwards or stupid.  "Christian" does not just describe my belief system.  It's not a religion, as I'm not a particularly religious person.  Christian is who I am.  It's part of me.  The biggest part.  It colors every other thing I think and do.  And I like that about myself.  It is not wrong and it will not change.  If you don't like those things, then you don't like ME.

I hope I've made this clear and don't really need to say it, but, obviously, this little discourse does not apply to all of my Liberal friends.  Some of you are very open-minded and willing to consider and rationally discuss different sides of an issue, and I appreciate that quality so much.  Some of you are very kind and respectful to others whose beliefs and views differ from yours.  Thank you for that!  And yay, you.  That's part of what makes me love you!  In fact, I'd say that all of the people I truly consider my friends are that way.  So if my Happy New Year Dissertation doesn't apply to you?  Please don't get all bent out of shape and try to pick a fight or leave a nasty comment...  Or jump me in the parking lot.  I'm not up for it.  If I felt like fighting, I'd go chat with the hub (jk... kinda).

Oy.  This was an interesting little rabbit hole.  But there you have it.  The Michelle of 2013 is just as verbose and prone to veering all over the place as the Michelle of 2012.  I guess some of that's been back building for a while.  So, you see?  I told ya.  I'm in an ugly mood, and maybe should have waited for it to pass before posting.  But I don't think these feelings are going to fade anytime soon.

I'd better wrap it up, before I lose every friend I've ever had.  I sincerely do hope all of you have a happy New Year.  May 2013 be YOUR year!  And MINE! 

Despite my cruddy mood at present, my New Year's wish for you, friends, is this...

• May the Lord bless you and keep you, and make his face shine upon you, and be gracious to you and give you peace. (Nu. 6:24-26)
• May the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, guard your hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. (Phil. 4:7)
• God bless us, every one! (Tiny Tim)
• And may the odds be ever in your favor! (Hunger Games)

Happy New Year, Everybody!  Goodbye, 2012!

What are you worth?

Well, well, well… 

I, Michelle, Blogger Extraordinaire, awesomely awesome creative creator of the Bringing Blogging Back Campaign; the one who was going to single-handedly resurrect The Art of Writing About Absolutely Nothing, have done a darn fine job of keeping up with my own blog lately, haven’t I?

Sorry.

I have a good excuse.  Or excuses.  As some of you know, we had a brand new business open, and then go under, all in the span of 2 weeks.  That was fun.  And a little bit stressful.   When we fail around here, we fail BIG.  We don't go at it half-a**ed. 

Actually, we got the ol' 'flat head and phillips treatment' by Darrell’s business 'partner,' so the business didn’t just end abruptly.  It ended horrendously.  But, we’ll save those unpleasant details for another day.  The subject is still a little tender.  I don't wanna talk about it. 

Shortly after that, we had a death in the family.  Darrell’s uncle passed away last month and Darrell spent the last couple weeks of his uncle’s life taking care of him, pretty much 24/7.  He was an emotional basket case at the time, but is beginning to feel better now.

 And?  I got sick shortly before the time Darrell started staying at the hospital around the clock and have remained that way for the past 4 or 5 weeks, along with the kids, who have taken turns being sick off and on. 

So… do I get a pass for my blogging slackitude?

That last part is what this post is really about.  Not my slackitude.  The part about being sick, I mean.  …Well, not really.  It's not about being sick.  It’s about something I realized yesterday as a result of being sick.  Something big.

I went to the doctor yesterday, hoping to score some tasty antibiotics… or an assisted suicide, because I was ready to die.  I was desperate enough to enthusiastically welcome either one.  Seriously, I felt so, so crappy.  I’d known for about 2 weeks that I’d reached that level of Sick that wasn’t going to clear up on its own, yet I kept putting off making an appointment with the doctor.   First, we didn’t have the money.  Then, we got some money, but I knew there were ‘better’ ways to spend it.  Like on food, and stuff.  Toilet paper.  Slim Jims.  You know.

In the meantime, my throat, ear and chest hurt somethin’ awful, as we say here in Cowcrap County.  Basically, my chest has been congested to the point that I can’t breathe when I lay down.  It feels like Honey Boo Boo’s mom is sitting on my chest (which is a fun sensation for a claustrophobic!  Hello, panic attack!).  So, I keep sitting up throughout the night, gasping for air...  which also means I haven’t been sleeping.  TAdd to that fevers, chills and coughing fits and you got yourself a party.  Those coughing fits have been pretty intense and obnoxious little sleep interrupters, too.  So, I’m literally sick and tired- ha.

And?  A few of the kids and I have pink eye, too, which is a guaranteed good time and a surefire way to feel super sexy.  I'm considering changing my name to Job Jr. if I can be guaranteed that people will know it rhymes with lobe and not lob.

Since we are not insured, and this is The Most Wonderful Ridiculously Expensive Time of the Year, and an office visit costs roughly $56,080.03, I kept thinking hoping praying that I could hold on a little longer and maaaaybe it would clear up by itself.  I kept reminding myself of all the important things we needed the money for, or how many Christmas gifts I could buy for the kids with it.  So, I procrastinated until I literally felt like I needed to be in a hospital. 

Yes, literally. 

Anyhoodie…  The doctor gave me an injection in the office, to get a jump on the respiratory infection I have because I let it get so bad, and prescribed an additional week of oral antibiotics to make sure it cleared up completely, and I got a script for the super good cough syrup that actually works (with codeine or something in it, I think), then he sent me on my not-so-merry way. 

As I stood at the checkout counter, writing my check (for $148 and change- not $56,080.03), I felt horribly guilty.  Yeah...  Guilty.  Overwhelmingly so, like I'd committed a crime.  I felt bad that I couldn't just "tough it out" and get better by myself; that I wasn't a stronger, better person; that I was wasting so much money.  I felt so, so bad to be spending that chunk of my family’s money on the doctor instead of something important. 

Seriously, guys.  I was trying to blink tears out of my eyes as I wrote that check.  Not that anyone would have noticed the tears, thanks to the pink eye.

Then I realized…

I wasn’t spending it on the doctor.  I was spending it on ME.  I was spending it on my health and well-being.  Why was that not important?

And so…  I had an epiphany.  A little voice in my head said, “Have you ever noticed that you always apologize to your husband whenever you schedule a doctor's appointment for yourself?  Every single time.  You say, "I'm sorry, but I'm gonna have to go to the doctor.  I can't take it anymore," as if it's an act of selfishness or a character defect to be sick.  You know something else?  You believe Christmas gifts for others, or a big ham for Christmas dinner, or even a bag of dog food ranks higher on the list of needs than your own health.  Your problem is not that you don't believe the doctor's visit is worth $148.00.  It's that you don’t believe your health is worth $148.00.  You don’t believe YOU are worth $148.00.” 

Well, cripes.  The little voice is right.  Man, I can't stand that chick sometimes. 

I realized I do this kind of thing a lot (I think we all, as women- and mothers- tend to put others ahead of ourselves, but…).   I am always feeling that I don’t deserve the same things everyone else does.  I often feel guilty for getting or even wanting the same things I believe others deserve.  

…Why is that? 

It’s that way whether it’s my health, or new clothes, or even how I allow others to treat me.  I can think of one or two relationships in my life right now that are… just... Not. Right.  I allow people to treat me in a way that I would never want my children to tolerate being treated.  And I just keep taking it.  Over and over.   

Some of these feelings of insecurity and unworthiness are common, I know, with adoptees.  But, jeez- I’m 46 years old.  That’s old enough to wear big girl panties and deal.  Isn’t it?  Am I destined to feel undeserving and crappy about myself for the rest of my flippin’ life because of something that happened in my infancy?  I'm stilll not sure I buy into that.  It's gotta be something else.  ...Doesn't it?

I’ve noticed the people in my life who tend to walk on me are also the types who are very self-assured and confident.  Or, at least, that’s how they seem.  These are the types who expect respect from others and they get it.  They always believe they are right.  They rarely apologize for being wrong (I feel I’m wrong all the time, for Pete’s sake.  I feel guilty when I know I haven’t done anything wrong.  Sometimes, it feels that apologizing is all I do.).  These people expect to get their way because they believe they deserve it.  They drive me nuts with their arrogance, and yet...  I'm envious of them.  I want what they have; whatever IT is that makes them value themselves so highly.  Not that I'd want to be a self-centered jerk to others.  I don't want to be selfish; I just want to stop feeling guilty every time I want or need something, especially from other people.  I want to stop worrying that I'm putting someone out to ask for something. 

I just want to feel like I'm as worthy as the next guy.  I know, intellectually, that I am.  But I want to KNOW, with every part of me, that I am; to feel that level of confidence.

So...  How do I do that?

Anyone?  Anyone? ...Bueller?

I do know this:  I decided in that doctor’s office yesterday that I will never, ever, ever allow myself to get that sick again before making an appointment and taking care of myself.  

No one, and no thing will ever again convince me that I should tolerate being sick as long as I can.

That doesn't solve the problem, but maybe it’s a step in the right direction, at least.

Facebook Status

For those of you who know me on Facebook, this post is a repeat.  You may want to skip it altogether...  Unless you'd like to start a juicy discussion in the comments!  ???  I'm so blessed to have an interesting mix of political and religious viewpoints among my blogging friends, so I'd love to hear your opinions about Richard Mourdock's recent comments regarding rape and pregnancy.  Here are mine (and this is the repetitive part; a copy of my most recent fb status): 

 

I'm struggling to understand all the fuss and fury over Richard Mourdock's comments. When you really look at what he said, and not what the Liberals are twisting his words to mean, how is it all that bad? How is it "demeaning to women?" I can see why his comments would ruffle the feathers of non-Believers who do not choose to acknowledge God's purpose in ANYTHING. I can see why it would offend the pro-abortionists who do not place value on ANY unborn child's life... But how does it demean a woman to say God created her child with a purpose?

I DO believe my birth was part of God's plan, and I'm not sorry for that. Am I happy my birth mother was raped so that I could be here? Of course not. Is God? Absolutely NOT! But... I DO believe I was "intended" by God to be here, and 'deserve' to be here just as surely as any 'planned' or 'wanted' child, conceived in a loving relationship. Thank God my birth mother thought so, too. She did not

(and emotionally could not) choose to parent me, and no one would fault her for that. But, instead of punishing me for the crime committed against her, she lovingly chose adoption. Should I have been aborted because some disgusting excuse of a human being committed a crime against her?

The sad thing is knowing that some of you are answering 'Yes.'

Despite the circumstances of my conception, I know God has a plan and purpose for my life (and I see that purpose every time I look into the beautiful faces of my own children). Isn't that all Mourdock is saying? God has a plan in all things, for all people? And that sentiment is somehow demeaning to women? He never said rape is God's plan for women. In fact, he said the opposite.
 

I believe in a God who exchanges beauty for ashes, and turns tragedies into blessings. If you don't, fine. But to viciously attack this man's assertion is to conversely suggest that God does NOT intend for babies conceived in rape to exist; that they are even more disposable, and THAT is demeaning to ME.

Thoughts, anyone?

Enough!

This has never been a political blog, nor do I feel able to speak intelligently and confidently when it comes to politics, so I am somewhat leery of posting my thoughts tonight.  However, I can't take it anymore.  If I don't say something, I'm going to blow a gasket.

The other day- a fairly lazy day here at home- I turned on the TV, not really expecting to find anything good on.  I turned on CNN.  First came the confusion.  Something horrible had happened in Tucson.  But exactly what was going on was still up in the air.  Rep. Giffords had been shot.  She may be dead.  She may be alive.  The reports were conflicting and coming in too fast to have time to take it all in.  The shock set in as the news became clearer.  Her life was hanging in the balance and other lives were lost.  Who had done this?  Who would do this?  Why?

In the days since, we've gotten a more complete picture of what took place that day.  We know the names of the wounded, the deceased, and the young man who committed this disgustingly sick and horrible act.

My thoughts have been for Rep. Giffords, listening every day for news, hoping to hear her condition is improving and her prognosis is good.  My thoughts have been for the mother of the nine year old girl who was killed, little Christina Taylor Green- trying to imagine a level of pain that is every parent's worst nightmare.  I've wondered what her thoughts must be like right now.  Is she thinking of all the birthday parties that will never be planned, pictures that can never be taken, and school dances that her sweet baby girl will never get to attend?  Talking about boys...  Someday a wedding... All those precious mother-daughter bonding moments that will never be...  It makes my heart ache for her- although, at the same moment, I am selfishly grateful for never having to feel the ache she is feeling now.  I think of Gabe Zimmerman's fiance and how devastated she must be right now.  I'm thinking of Judge John Roll, who was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, and Pastor Stoddard.  These men have families who are overwhelmed right now with grief.  I'm thinking of George Morris, one of those wounded, who was married for 55 years to his high school sweetheart, Dorothy.  She was killed.  The woman he shared the majority of his life with is now just... gone.  And I'm thinking about the parents and family of Jared Loughner.  I cannot begin to imagine what they are going through. 

I'll also admit, no matter how cliche it sounds, I've been hugging my kids a little tighter after having another sad reminder of why we shouldn't take our loved ones, or anything important in our lives, for granted.  I casually say goodbye to family members every day, always assuming they'll return safely at night.  Once again, I'm reminded that there are no guarantees.

My thoughts have been so occupied with these people and their families that I was a little shocked when I began to realize there are other people out there thinking along very different lines.  There are people who wish to use this tragedy as part of some twisted little political game.

I've heard so much these past few days about "violent rhetoric" that it's almost as if a script was passed out to the players of the game, just moments after the shootings occurred.  And- surprise, surprise- the accusations are coming from the Liberal camp, aimed at Conservatives.  Because, as we all know, Liberals never resort to violent or hateful speech themselves.  No.  Never.  They always speak so kindly and lovingly about Conservatives and all they stand for, especially Conservative Christians, like me. 

And if I see a map with cross hairs on it one more time, I may honestly burst into tears.   Using this tragedy to take something like that completely out of context is wrong.  Plain and simple.  By the way, as long as I've mentioned the map thing already... 

I certainly don't want the point of this post to be remembered as my effort to defend Sarah Palin.  And if that's all you take from it, please go back and read again.  This isn't about Sarah; however, she is one of the primary people currently sighted in the Liberal cross hairs (when isn't she?) for her "violent" words.  Funny, that.  Because what I have clearly heard her repeat many, many times is that her use of words like "arms," "reload," etc., and even those cross hairs pictured on that map, are meant metaphorically.  She speaks of arming ourselves with votes, information, etc..  She has said time and again that she is not speaking of literal, violent acts.  Those cross hairs on that map meant that those were targets to be zeroed in upon with political effort- not targets on people to be literally shot at.  Could she have chosen a better symbol?  Obviously.  At this moment, I'm wishing she would have used bunnies, or cupcakes.  But...  How daft does one have to be to truly believe that this well-known political figure would give an open call to violence- literal violence- even pinpointing the specific areas where she wants that violence to occur?   And even if she did?  How insulting it is to us Conservatives that the Liberal camp assumes (and openly suggests) we are such idiotic sheep that we would blindly obey!

It has always seemed to me that many Liberals feel intellectually superior to Conservatives. They mock us, especially those of us who are people of faith. They speak down to us.  And yet they can't tell the difference between speaking figuratively or literally?  Hmmm.  Odd.

I'd also like to point out (although I feel I shouldn't have to) that when a politician or political pundit has the sense to recognize and even predict that certain areas are political hot zones and therefore may be more likely to experience turbulent debates, clashes and even violence, it is not the same thing as condoning, promoting, or inciting violence.

I think it's pretty clear, judging by the writings of Mr. Loughner, that he is absolutely off his nut.  If you've read any of his ramblings, it's ludicrous to suggest that Mrs. Palin, Rush Limbaugh, or any other Conservative is to blame for his actions.  His diseased mind is to blame.  I would even go so far as to wonder if some blame should be shared by any family member or friend who knew how deeply disturbed and sick this young man was and didn't seek help on his behalf.  Maybe they tried.  I don't know.  But he is to blame.  He picked up that gun, went to that shopping center, and destroyed those lives.  We may never know why he did this.  There may not even be a why.  At least not a sane one.

I could go on and on about this, but I will only get angrier as I go and begin to ramble (even more than I'm already doing).  What I really want to say is that when we seize tragic, heartbreaking events as opportunities to play these assinine political blame games and make accusations about the "other side," I feel it is deeply disrespectful to those who were killed and to those who remain and are suffering.  They become pawns to be used and tossed aside.  These are people.  Hurting, heartbroken people.  I think what's going on shows a total lack of class and compassion.  This is not the time to further a political agenda or blame one party over another for this act of violence.  This is the time to come together as a nation, regardless of political affiliation, and collectively grieve for those whose lives will never be the same.

Stupid does as stupid is...

or something like that.

What is it about international adoption that brings The Stupid out in people? We went to the Post Office yesterday to get passports for some of the kids (we're still hoping to take the younger ones with us when we travel). Everything was going just fine... until it was Brianna's turn. I presented her birth certificate, just as I had done for the other kids, and I had her (expired) US passport with me, just in case there would be any questions, since her birth certificate says she was born in China. I didn't bring any adoption paperwork, her old Chinese passport, or a COC since I had not needed any of those in the past.

Apparently, I'm stupid; stupid-er than I had previously realized.

The postal worker "helping" us, henceforth referred to as CPW (Crazy Postal Worker), asked me to show her where exactly on Bri's US passport it says she is a US citizen. Well, it doesn't specifically say "I am a US citizen" on it. Neither does mine. It also doesn't have bunny stickers on it, nor does it say, "My mom would like to smack you." It is just a plain 'ol, regular, flippin' US passport. AND it is a US passport previously issued to my daughter. I foolishly thought that a US passport was good enough proof that she qualified for... a US passport.

Um... No.

CPW had to ask another worker "if these people will need to come back with adoption paperwork since this little girl was born in China."

One said yes. Another said no. So, maybe we should "come back with our adoption papers just to be safe," CPW decides.

My eyes were starting to do that cool, Incredible Hulk-I'm-getting-angry-thing.
I gently, ever-so-lovingly and patiently explained that we would not have been able to acquire the documents I had with me if we had not legally adopted her, and we did not need to show any adoption papers the first time we got her US passport. Her birth certificate was all we brought, just like we did for the other kids.

CPW then looks at the form I filled out where I said Brianna had no other names, which she doesn't. Her legal name is exactly what it has always been. The adoption documents in China were filled out with the name we gave her. Her Chinese passport had the name we gave her. That is her name- thank you very much, ma'am (and how did you ever pass the civil service test in the first place?). CPW acted as if she didn't believe me. You could just see she was thinking, "Surely the little Oriental must also be known as Mei Ling, or Connie Chung, or something more exotic-sounding."

CPW asked, "Does she still reside in China?"

My voice said, "Whaaaa?"
My thoughts said, "Whaaaat the %*#$?"

CPW repeats, "Does she still... re-side... in Chi-NA?"

My voice said, "No. She lives with us... Here."
My thoughts said, "Does she appear to be residing in China, you Glorious Dingbat?"

CPW asked, "So you are her custodians, then?"

My voice said, "No. We are her parents."
My thoughts said, "You're gonna need a custodian in just a minute."

CPW finally decides, after conferring again with the other workers, that since the last name and address on her paperwork matches ours, she would go ahead and send in the application.

CPW looks around at the four kids with me and says, "So, are you Octomom?"

My voice said... "HA" (with a big, fake smile- jaw slightly clenched to keep the expletives from flying out).
My thoughts said, "Do ya feel lucky? Well, do ya, punk?"

As we were finishing up, and thankfully almost ready to leave, CPW (looking again at the kids) says, "You have FOUR children with you."

My voice said... "Yeee- esss?"
My thoughts said... "Well if nothing else, we've established that you can count to four. Good for you, you Incredible Dipstick."

CPW explained, "You are only getting three passports."

Oh, now I see. She thinks I'm too stupid to count my own kids. I must not know how many passports I need.

My voice said, "I only need three. This one (pointing to a kid) doesn't need one."
My thoughts said, "Do you have a hammer handy, or some type of blunt instrument? Anything will do, really... I just need to whack something real quick."

Doctors...

I can't stand these people. Technically, I don't think they can really be called "people," but still. I seriously doubt any doctors read my blog because their time is just too precious, and they are waaaaaay too smart to bother with an idiot like me (This would be sarcasm, here. I do that)- but just in case, I should say that I know not all of them are horrible. My kids' doctor is wonderful. We've been seeing her since I was pregnant with Evan (1994). She knows us. She talks to us and with us, not at us. She's just a person who happens to be a physician, know what I mean? And she's a darn good one. She cares. She realizes my input as the mother and the one who sees the kid 24/7 should not be discounted. I'd be sick at the thought of losing her. My husband's doctor (and mine, too- on occasion) is a really normal, down-to-earth, funny guy. Again, he talks to us. He listens. He asks questions and hears the answers. He signs 11 copies of the same piece of adoption paperwork without an attitude.

So yeah, there are some decent ones out there, and if one of those decent ones is reading today, just ignore my rant because it obviously doesn't apply to you. If, however, you are swirling in the cesspool of humanity that makes up the majority of the medical establishment (according to my own poll), and my comments do apply to you, then by all means, please do take them personally. It's probably about time someone told you the cold, hard truth anyway. I realize your time is precious and you won't listen to me anyway, so I'll sum it up quickly (that's what you like, right? Short, quick, to the point...): You suck. How's that? Quick and direct?

Was that a little harsh? It felt kinda harsh. I have an extreme dislike of you and your kind, is what I would be indicating here. Did you pick up on that?

The type of doctor who makes my blood boil has that whole nauseating superiority thing going on. You know the type, right? Educated Idiots. The self-righteous, self-involved, self-important, self-satisfied, egotistical, sanctimonious, smug, asinine type. Did I make that clear enough? I could add a few more adjectives if needed, believe me. The arrogance. The conceit. Oy. A whopping 94.87% of these morons (again, my own poll) can't even seem to comb their frickin' hair, so why are they so deluded into thinking they're better than everyone else on the planet?

A little bonus story: When I was having my c-section with Tucker in 1998, they let a med student do my epidural. They did not tell me he was a med student at first, but it wasn't hard to figure out when he poked me repeatedly in the back with the needle and a sharp, unholy, burning pain hit my lower back and went down my hip (which was nowhere close to the needle). He must have done this ten times. I'm kind of funny about showing pain or admitting to any kind of injury or illness when I'm around people, so it's pretty unusual for me to YELL, "OH MY GAAAWWWD!" over and over, as I sink my nails into the poor nurse standing in front of me. The med student kept saying, "I'm sorry! Oh... I'm so sorry." Yeah, he really exuded confidence, which was comforting.

Anyhoooooo... The epidural, once it was finally done, did not numb me up far enough. So when the actual c-section finally started, I could feel everything above the belly button. Since this was my third c-section, I knew what to expect and how they felt, and this was not how they were supposed to feel. I asked the lady standing by my head (Nurse, I guess? Who knows.) if I should be experiencing this much pain, and I told her it was getting to the point of being unbearable. Get this: She said... "You mean pressure? You're not feeling pain. You're feeling pressure. Pressure is normal." I set her straight in that very kind, calm, Christian way I have and explained that, yes, in fact I was feeling pain and golly, it would sure be great if someone could do something about it before I pass out and/or choke on my own vomit.

See? This is what I'm talking about, people. This whole haughty idea that we are just dumb sheep who could not possibly know what we're talking about, because we don't have the fancy-pants education. It's like they're all walking around thinking the same thoughts, "I'm the medical professional, you're not. I am the expert here, not you. Oh, and by the way... It doesn't matter that you have been a parent for 19 years, ma'am. You know nothing about your child. In fact, you know nothing about yourself. You're just a big ole dufus, so shut up and let me handle it" (Do doctors use phrases like "big ole?" Probably not).

Another big thing I hate SO MUCH about these "people" is that they are often anti-faith and/or anti-Christian. Why, they are much too intellectual for such folly. I've dealt with several doctors who are soooo openly hostile and disrespectful toward the idea of faith. They seem to forget I am paying them to provide a service for me, not to insult me. Not to attack my faith and belittle my intellect. You.Work.For.Me, you Gigantic Gluteal Cleft.

Oh, yeah... This post was going to be about taking Evan to the Dr. on Saturday (Yes, Saturday. When his regular doctor wasn't in the office and we had to make a trip all the way over to an Urgent Care clinic). I veered off-track a little bit there. Haha. Got a teensy bit upset. Whoopsie. Sorry about that.

Evan broke out with poison ivy Friday night and woke up Saturday morning with one eye swollen shut. He looked like he'd been in a bar fight and felt even worse than that. He reacts pretty badly to poison ivy and it never clears up without a steroid shot and a week of pills. So I knew it wasn't going to wait until Monday.

The nurse at the clinic was such a snooty little you know what. She'd ask me questions, not let me answer, then interrupt me to ask the same flipping question again. She snipped at Evan for moving the hand that had the finger clamp, blood oxygen thingy on it. "You're supposed to KEEP THAT HAND STILL!" Gee whiz, lady. May I suggest either some decent sex or an enema?

I started to think I was on some twisted version of Jeopardy, so I blurted out, "What is a Horse's A**?

Then the doctor came in, after making us wait in that little room for 45 minutes. Mr. Important arrived on the scene as we peasants fell to the ground and worshipped, which of course cut into the whopping four minutes he was willing to give us. He was even more of an a**hat than his nurse, if possible. Several hours and $161 later, we got the shot and Rx we came for and left. So, yeah. Doctors...

Would you have aborted me?

Okay, this is the post on abortion that I warned you about. Run away now if you don't want to hear it. I know this is a hot topic that I should probably stay away from, but have I ever mentioned my common sense is, um, not great?

So let me get the disclaimers out of the way... First, my thoughts will probably be quite rambly. I have a million thoughts swirling around, but will do the best I can to get them out in a way that makes sense. Please forgive me if I'm not as succinct as I should be. If I stumble over my words, or repeat myself one too many times, you'll understand I'm nervous about discussing all this with you, right?

This is not a politically motivated post, although I think the subject is a timely one considering tomorrow's election, and one of the candidate's deplorable views on abortion. This post is not about trying to sway anyone- it's just an airing of my own feelings regarding one very specific segment of the pro-abortion camp. My hope is that I can cause you to look at your views from another angle- to step into another's shoes, for just a moment.

If you are a sold-out abortion supporter, you will not get this post. Likewise, if you are not a Christian, you will not get this post. Go ahead and read if you wish, but don't expect it to make sense to you.

I personally feel that there is no middle ground when it comes to abortion. Notice, I said "personally." These are my feelings. You may share your feelings if you wish, but my feelings are not open to debate. I want to make it clear right away that my comments today are not directed at the unwavering abortion supporter, but to the Christian believer who thinks there are cases when abortion is sometimes "acceptable." So, pro-abortion people, any arguments over your side vs. my side are pointless. You won't sway me, and I'm pretty sure I couldn't sway you.

Since I'm sharing personal feelings and revelations here, my intentions are definitely not to offend or anger anyone. So, I would appreciate if your comments do not intend to offend or anger me. Please keep them civil.

My view of abortion is that it is murder. This allows you yet another chance to flee if you feel you won't be able to take it. Everything I say will be steeped in this view. I do not believe any of us should get the "choice" to murder a child. If that bothers you, stop reading right now (This does not mean that I don't have compassion for women struggling with an unplanned pregnancy, or suffering from the guilt that often follows the choice of abortion. I do. I am not one of those so-called "Christians" who stands outside an abortion clinic screaming hateful, horrible things at the hurting women coming out. I do not believe for one second that's how the Lord would treat these women, or wants me to treat them. I have very dear friends who have experienced the pain and trauma caused by making this choice for themselves years ago and my heart aches for them as they continue to battle with the long-lasting ramifications of their decisions, finding themselves unable to truly forgive their own actions and move on).

Still reading? Okay. Either you're with me so far, or you're one of those people exactly like me who are compelled to keep reading after the warnings have been issued! You at least have to admit I've given you plenty of time to skedaddle, so you can't say I didn't warn you.

Here we go... Boldly going where no sane person would go.

I often hear the phrase, "I am opposed to abortion except in the case of incest or rape." I'm sure you've heard this too, or something similar. Maybe you even believe it yourself. If so, I'd like to encourage you to seriously reevaluate your thoughts on this. Each time I hear this, I remind myself not to take it personally. I shouldn't let it get to me. I tell myself they are not speaking to me personally. I should just let it go.

But I can't. I'm sorry, but it is personal. You are speaking to me. About me.

As one of those "rape babies," what I hear is this: "I usually believe abortion is wrong, but I totally understand why a mother wouldn't want YOU!"

Yes, my bio mother was raped. And guess what?!? I didn't rape her. So, why is it so easy for you to understand punishing the child for a condition she did not cause, and a crime she did not commit? Okay, so maybe you don't consider abortion a punishment? Maybe to you, the true punishment is in some woman carrying the filthy spawn of a rapist- "The Bad Seed"? Have you really taken time to learn the details of the procedure? Would you like to experience those "details" from the baby's point of view? Criminals are executed more humanely than babies are aborted.

My bio mother had someone in her life who wanted her to abort me. If she would have let her secret out to more people, I'm sure she would have had others who thought abortion was an entirely understandable and acceptable measure, considering her horrible circumstances. After all, who could blame her? Why on earth would she want to carry a rapist's baby?

Here's the deal: The life of an unborn child is either valuable or it is not. I understand the people who say it is not. I do not agree with them, but I understand that that is their view. I do not understand the people who say it is valuable sometimes.

So I have to ask you... If a rape baby is expendable in your eyes, why not a baby with disabilities? How can they still be precious to God, while I am not? Why not get rid of a baby of the "wrong" gender? Heck, why not just go back to Nazi-era Eugenics (which may not be too far off, IMHO)?

Whose life is more worthy in the eyes of God? And how can you be the one who chooses? When we start deciding which children can or should be done away with before birth, when and where does it stop?

I personally find it disgusting when I hear you shouting from the rooftops that abortion is wrong, then you follow it up with your quiet little disclaimer "except in the case of incest or rape."

It hurts me on a personal level (yes, even though I know it shouldn't) and sickens me as a fellow believer that you can think my life is not as valuable as a "wanted" baby, simply because a crime beyond my control, was committed against my biological mother. I (and every rape baby) was created by God, who makes no mistakes, just as surely as he created each and every other baby, whether they be "perfect," or impaired by disabilities or deformities.

The view that "abortion is wrong, except..." is hypocrisy- the epitome of fence-straddling- trying to feel good about holding onto one's convictions and moral values in theory, while allowing an "out." I'm reminded of the verses in Rev. 3 that say, "I know your deeds, that you are neither cold nor hot. I wish you were either one or the other! So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth."

Either the contents of the womb is a living being and therefore deserves to be protected and valued, or not. Unborn children are either precious in His sight, or not. Psalm 139 says, "For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;your works are wonderful,I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Tell me, where does that scripture allow for your convenient "out"? Where does it say rape babies are exempt from that whole "wonderfully made" thing?

God may not desire for a woman to experience the trauma of rape, but in His goodness, He can still bring something good out of it. Why did a loving God allow my bio mother, or any woman, to be raped? Why did I have to be born with such a disgusting legacy as that? Why couldn't I have been born as a "wanted" child into a family that looked forward to my arrival and raised me in a loving home? I have no idea.

But, I believe the Bible when it tells me God considers children to be a blessing and a gift. It doesn't say "some" children, or "planned" children. I believe the Bible when it tells me "'For I know the plans I have for you,' declares the LORD, 'plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'" I know He had a purpose and a plan for my life. And I accept how He chose to begin it. Why can't some of you?

I understand a woman who has been raped may not be able to love or want the child she carries. I understand that very, very well. But, I also thank God that my own bio mother did not punish me for something I didn't do. She couldn't keep me, and understandably didn't want me, but that didn't mean she had to "terminate" me. Thank God she chose adoption over abortion. Were those nine months of carrying a rapist's child hard on her? I'm sure they were- beyond what most of us could imagine. Does that justify the destruction of the child? I don't think so.

The next time you find yourself thinking, "I am opposed to abortion except in the case of incest or rape," consider the people who are listening to your words. You just may be speaking to one of those you deem to be exterminable. Maybe you should tweak your words slightly so that they accurately reflect what the people you are insulting will hear: "I usually believe abortion is wrong, but I totally understand why a mother wouldn't want YOU!" "I can't imagine having to be pregnant with YOU," or just come right out and say, "Children conceived during rape or incest do not deserve to live as much as 'wanted' children." Isn't that pretty much what you're saying anyway? Then decide if you would still say that out loud. If so, come on over and say it to my face- lol!! That ought to be fun. ;D

I realize in today's society we're all supposed to have the touchy-feely warm fuzzies for all people and tolerate anything and everything from each other, but I have to say it... If you are a Believer and you believe abortion is wrong, except in the case of rape and incest, You.Are.Wrong. Forgive me for not sugar-coating it, but there you have it. Your view is not in line with the teachings of the Bible. You are wrong. You are wrong. You are wrong. The God you profess to love and serve created that life. Was He in error? Answer that for me... Was He in error?

He has a plan for that child's life; a future and a hope- a future that you would snuff out. You are wrong.

And with that, dear friends, I'm done. Let the comments fly. Thank you for kindly indulging my opinions on this subject. We will now return to our regularly scheduled programming.


Either the life of an unborn child has value or it doesn't.

Getting a few things off my chest

And, no, that title is not a reference to my weight or breasticular regions.

Something's been going on in Bloggerville lately that has me fuming and thinking. So, I'm going to vent. If you don't want to hear a rant, this would be a good time to go grab a coke and come back in just a sec., when I probably will be referencing my weight and/or breasticular regions. You know me... I can't stay off those topics for long.

Anyhoo... Who knows what the word "blog" means? Here's the definition from Dictionary.com:

"...an online diary; a personal chronological log of thoughts published on a Web page... Typically updated daily... blogs often reflect the personality of the author.
Etymology: shortened form of Weblog..." (emphasis added by me)

A blog is the blogger's place to say whatever that blogger wants to say. While I'm all for Free Speech, I do not believe a blog is a reader's place to say whatever they want to say. If you are reading a blog and you do not happen to like what the blogger has to say, you basically have two choices.

1. Stop reading that blog and choose one more suitable to your tastes.
2. Leave a snarky comment, either telling the blogger what they need to change about their blog to suit you, or criticizing their thoughts, feelings, beliefs, etc...

Oh, wait- there's a third choice, I guess. You can also go to another blog and talk about a blogger behind his or her back, leaving your venomous crap elsewhere.

Personally, I'm a big fan of choice #1. Numbers 2 and 3 not so much.

By now, some of you will know I'm referring to a specific incident, but for those who don't, I'm not going to link to the blog where this thing recently happened. Sorry to leave you in the dark, but- for one thing, the blogger has already taken the most offensive comments down, and for another thing- it was never her intention to invite people to attack others by name, she was just trying to do a little venting of her own and have a little bit of fun, and I know she feels bad about the horrible turn the whole thing took, so there's no need to draw additional attention to it. Besides, you don't need to see that crap firsthand for my point to still be valid.

My blog is my place. Period. And by "my," I'm speaking of course on behalf of any blogger, not just myself. I am inviting you into my thoughts and my life. If you accept my invitation by reading my posts, I believe a certain level of decorum and courtesy is expected on your part. I love, love, love your comments and welcome your input, even when it disagrees with mine, but I don't believe you have the right to tear me down in "my house." Or elsewhere around the internet, for that matter.

If I were to invite you into my real life, if you were sitting in my home, you would never dream of criticizing my choices of wallpaper, or how I discipline my kids, or how my husband and I interact. At least I hope not. You would politely sit and chat. You would "play nice," just as most of us were taught to do by our mamas. If you didn't enjoy our visit, you would decline my next invitation. Simple, right?

Why should the blog world be any different? If you don't like a blogger, you can easily choose to stop reading. Why is it necessary to carve her up (especially by name on another blog)?

There are times when reading a post will cause me to think, and I'll come back to my blog and write a post of my own (just as I'm doing now), but I do not believe I have the right to dump my nasty, negative opinions all over the comment section of someone else's blog.

Another thing- A blog is not your place to make requests. This is not a piano bar. If you think a blogger has a brain full of nothing but fluff, or her posts are too deep and not fluffy enough for your taste, her religion or politics irks you, or you just plain don't like her... I don't feel it's appropriate for you to suggest she make changes. If you were to *stumble across my personal diary, tucked away under my mattress, would you feel it was appropriate to make notes in the margins offering suggestions or making corrections?

Again, my blog is my place- my thoughts, my feelings, my beliefs, my house. Why should I change my life around to suit one (or one hundred) reader(s)? If you don't like it, you may leave. That's the great thing about the blogosphere- you are only one click away from leaving a place you don't like. You don't even have to think up a nice little white lie about why you need to leave or why you won't be able to return. Perfect. You just keep your mouth shut and move on.

And... (aw, geez- there's more)... If you absolutely must leave a negative comment on someone's blog, I do not believe it is appropriate to do it anonymously. Many bloggers allow anonymous comments, me included. BUT- if you've got the stones to be mean, then have the stones to sign your name. Take responsibility for what you say. Don't be a wuss. You're already hateful, why add "Gutless Pansy" to your list of negative qualities, too?

Lastly, this whole thing is none of my business and I've poked my nose into something that has nothing to do with me. Maybe that's wrong. I dunno. If it is, I apologize. I was not involved in the incident I was referring to above, and haven't been personally attacked or insulted. I argued with myself over whether or not I should even say anything, but I have an opinion about it, and this is my blog, so... there you go.

The ladies who've been catching the crap lately are more than capable of speaking up for themselves and really don't need any back up from this fat little House Frau. I guess it's just my nature to stick up for people who are being picked on. Can't help it. Besides, I like these women and think they're writing and their blogs are great and serve a useful purpose. There's just no good reason to be mean.

Of course, I realize that I'm probably spinning my wheels. Mean people either don't know they're mean, or they know it and don't care. They already know they should be nice, but they choose to be mean anyway. Telling them to be nice, like a mommy talking to a 3 year old, is probably a waste of time. Besides, I think I'm preaching to the choir here again anyway. You guys are not the ones who need to hear this. My readership is a pretty nice, well-behaved bunch, and I'm thankful for that. Oh well... I still needed to say it. Giving lectures on being nice is what moms do.

I said at the beginning of this post that I'd probably throw something in about my weight before the end, so here it is: I'm still fat.

*Just for the record- I do not keep a personal diary tucked away under my mattress.

The Right Side

There's been a lot of political talk on the internet lately, and it's been fun (and sometimes infuriating- :P) reading all the different posts and comments. Here's what I've been wondering, though, as I read those comments... Why is it so acceptable in our society to trash Christians and all they stand for? You rarely hear or see people talking about how ridiculous the beliefs of Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, or other faiths are. But it's perfectly okay to belittle, attack, and make fun of the Christian faith. Why does any and every other belief system (including Atheism) deserve a certain level of respect, but mine does not? I'm not allowed to express my faith publicly, but you are allowed to publicly attack it. If I say anything against you and what you believe or support, I'm guilty of "hate speech." You, on the other hand, can call me and all the things I value most every hateful, degrading name in the book. And the funny thing is, you do so while calling me a hypocrite! Seriously?

And as far as the idea that religion has no place in politics? I do not believe it is possible to separate one's beliefs and values from their political views. If you are able to do that, then you must be pretty wishy-washy with your beliefs. If I believe in something with all my heart, then my conscience will not allow me to vote for a political candidate whose beliefs, actions and platforms are in direct opposition to my beliefs. I don't see why that's something to be made fun of. I really don't. Can someone explain it to me? The same people who laud themselves for standing up for what they believe and speaking their minds on issues of importance to them mock me when I do the very same thing. You're convictions are so strongly held that you'll scream them from the rooftops. Great! Mine are so strongly held that I take them with me to the voting booth. What's the dif?

It also seems hypocritical to me, and pretty flippin' amusing, to hear the other guy's loyal minions attacking my political party and its candidates for not having any integrity... Do I really need to bring up some of the dishonest, insincere, indecent, unprincipled snafus of your party? I hope not, because the list is quite long and my fingers will get tired.

The truth is- there are probably not many politicians on either side with much integrity. Even if they come into the process with high ideals and a true desire to change things, I think they are quickly caught up in the corruption and bullcrap that is Washington. I don't hold a very high opinion of politicians and certainly don't trust or believe them, regardless of the party they support. They all have writers crafting the perfectly worded soundbite. They all tell you what you want to hear. They all choose running mates based on who can help manipulate a vote from you. I know I'm cynical and pessimistic, but I've come to believe they are all liars who will say anything to get in, and once they are, they screw us over without losing a minute of sleep. That characteristic seems to have no trouble crossing party line. If you truly believe your guy is sincere, genuine, transparent, and real, then I think you're the one living a fairy tale and believing a myth.

One more thing... If you find my beliefs so laughable because you believe there is no God at all, I hate to tell ya, but you are still a person of faith. You're choosing to believe something you cannot prove or see, just as I am. Only you're taking a much bigger gamble.

7:00 a.m. and I'm Already Ticked

I just heard the idiot anchor on Good Morning America (a man, BTW... and did I mention idiot already?) asking one of McCain's people (or some guy from the Republican party... I wasn't really listening at first) if the fact that Sarah Palin has an infant with "special needs" (he has Down's) will make a difference. What he was getting at was it will either affect her ability to be an effective VP, or being VP will affect her ability to mother a child with Down's. The guy being interviewed seemed a little flustered by the question, almost as if he wasn't sure he understood what was being asked of him. He ended up responding with a "No, I don't think it will."

I think most moms agree that working outside the house can and does affect family life, and family life often affects the job. BUT...

That question would NEVER, EVER be asked of a male candidate. NEVER. A male candidate with a lot on his plate at home, whether it's a large family, young kids, a child with special needs, a kid who has been in trouble, a drug-addled, alcoholic brother, WHATEVER, wouldn't be asked if those things would distract him from his job. Nor would he be asked if his job is going to affect his abilities as a dad. NEVER, EVER, EVER.

And so, it begins... all the double-standard, sexist crap that we'll be hearing for the next few months.

And this is neither here nor there, but I'm thrilled with McCain's choice, by the way. I love her. This year, unfortunately, my vote is not going to be as much for one candidate, as it is against the other- but having her on the ticket will make me feel much better about my choice. I'm veering off into politics, which I know is a huge mistake, because pretty soon I'll feel compelled to tell you exactly what I think of that other guy running and his choice for VP and I will offend someone. I better shut it. I'll switch topics.

Let's see... safe topics... Oh- Weather! That's always safe. It's stormy here today and it's supposed to continue, so there won't be much outdoor fun this weekend. We didn't really have any big plans anyway, so no biggie. I know some of you live in the areas where Gustav is supposed to hit and I hope you'll all be OK. I'll be thinking of you and lifting you up in prayer.

One more thing before I go: Thank you, thank you, thank you for the sweet comments on yesterday's post. You guys are just awesome in every way!