The Courage to Put Down the Mascara Wand

Three years!! Three years since I posted on this blog. I know why, but it's stupid reasons. Yes, I was in school, then a noob at work, but most of all it was a hurtful thing a co-worker said on FB probably 7-ish years ago. She wasn't even a friend, but called my mom-blog stupid. Sometimes mean playground words still affect me. Another post, another time.

Today is a big step for me. I am not putting on ANY makeup. I'm not all that brave since it's my day off, but I might go out.... You see, I usually put on a full face of makeup even on my days off when I know I'm not going anywhere. Some of the reasons are because it's fun and relaxing for me. Like coloring, but on my face. The other reason is because I really just hate the way I look all naked faced. I am a natural blond, so my eyebrows/eyelashes are blond too. This means without makeup I look terminal with my invisible eyelashes. Also, people underestimate the power of eyebrows! Google "celebrities without eyebrows" where people have photoshopped them off. I'll wait here.

See! It's a thing! My last point of this vain "whine time" is my skin looks pretty bad. Like, not deep acne cysts like I had in my 20's, but the scars are there. An autoimmune disease takes care of the rest with a red rash across my nose that spreads it's lovely wings when my body decides, well, when it decides it just wants to.

Okay, so there are some naturalist ladies in my circle who look beautiful with or without makeup who may not get where I'm coming from. None of my quirks mean I think people without makeup are terminal looking or dull au naturale. The only subscriber to my issues is me. Evidently it's also an expensive subscription. Y'all know I'd go full Botox and fillers if I could somehow justify it. Not "Real Housewives" level, but just a touch.

Okay, so where am I going with this. Somewhere, I promise.

Natalia had homecoming last weekend and this was the first time she has gone with a "real date".
She's a sophomore and has a boyfriend. He's not bad for a boy that Jeremy and I automatically think is driven by hormones and after our beautiful daughter! He's actually respectful and kind. Jeremy has shelved the taser for now.

Of course I did Natalia's makeup that night and it was so on pointe. But she looks really beautiful in the morning with just her bare face and stinky breath. Is it because she is one of those genetically creepy kids who look profoundly beautiful
instead of the normal teen awkwardly beautiful? No, although she is beautiful and I like her face. It's because I love her and she's funny and I want to be like her some day when I grow up. She and her boyfriend have been a "thing" for 10 months now. She has never changed anything about herself during that time. Never was motivated to brush her teeth every morning, brush her hair, remember deodorant, etc from the beginning. Someday I'll have to explain her "homeless chic"
style of dress. Maybe I don't have to explain it, actually. She's just herself and expects her BF to like her as-is. She told me one time she doesn't want to do the hair and makeup thing because she wants people to know her first for who she is, not what she looks like. My shallow mom heart felt some shame in her wisdom. Most of the time I'd rather people just see a pretty (old, ha!) face while I hide behind the smoke and mirrors of contouring and lip gloss. Ignore the lady behind the curtain. Or Optimus Prime helmet. Or the T. rex costume.

I have a lot of respect for Natalia, even at age 15. She doesn't believe there is an invisible panel of judges that follow her and questioning her choice of dress, how her skin looks, is she smiling enough to counter that RBF. Natalia has challenged me to go without makeup a few times. I do it on occasion, but I feel awful. Vulnerable. Foreign. I'm thankful that Natalia hasn't taken on my need to front. Instead, I am learning way more from her. I'm going to resist the urge to put on mascara. Natalia, my guru.

My Dog isn’t a Golden Retriever: A Nature Study

Society is a mess right now. There is a lot of fear. Fear for the future, fear for our families, fear against our fellow man. I have a couple stories.

I have a Rottweiler named Ripley. He is my baby boy and I’m obsessed with him. The last two years have been hard for me when it comes to Ripley. I thought he had a major personality flaw. Ripley is territorial of our house, Natalia, and mostly me. He follows me from room to room, puts his head on my lap when I go to the bathroom, and does his “big boy bark” when I am in the carpool line. He doesn’t like Natalia’s school administrators. It doesn’t matter that everybody’s body language is happy and non-threatening. He’s not having it.

We took him to doggy boot camp and he is one of the best-trained territorial Rottweilers ever. I have buzzed his “attention” collar to correct his “big boy bark” when we are in the carpool line, or when people walk too close to the house, to no avail. Before we knew the extent of Ripley’s territorial feelings, we allowed him to roam the house when Natalia’s friends were over. That stopped when he bit one of her friends on the pinkie. He didn’t break the skin, but he got her. It scared everyone and I was devastated. A misguided parent called Animal Control to investigate our “jerk-face” dog, and I am so glad that happened. I gained insight that I never would have if she and I hadn’t sat down and talked.

She (Animal Control Officer) told me that Ripley isn’t a vicious dog, nor is he a bad dog. He is doing what is in his nature and this cannot be “trained” out of him. He loves his

family more than anything and when we are in our house, he is guarding us. It is his purpose. All Rottweilers inherently do this, some stronger than others. The force is strong with Ripley. This is why we can take him to the dog park or hiking and he will run up to people for his head to be scratched and even sat in a lady’s lap the other week. He was off duty. The problem wasn’t with Ripley, the problem was with my perspective, lack of understanding, and need for control.

Let’s talk about God. I’m going to give you God from Jeremy’s perspective to the best of my understanding from our conversations. Jeremy’s big turning point toward “no God-ness” was Sandy Hook. That horrific day when the children were taken by gunfire by the hands other hate-filled children. He asked me “How could a God who has total power do that?” At the time I didn’t have an answer for him. I guess I still don’t. I have my own insight though, and I want to share it because there is so much hate being plastered on the media.

As Chip Ingram would say: God is not a vending machine. Let that sink in for a second. You don’t get to follow rules, pray certain prayers, go to a revival or two, hang out with other Christians, and in response have a god that spits out blessings. The best friends you have in your life want nothing from you. If you say “no”, they are okay with that. They respect you. They understand that “no” is a complete sentence and you don’t always need to explain why. God deserves that kind of friendship from you. He has asked to be your family, not your pansy to fulfill every whim. Satan can do that. Money? Satan has your number. Sex? Satan knows what rings your bell. Relationships? Sorry, Satan can’t help you there, but he’ll give you some people to hang out with that will spend your money and have sex with you.

I was so mad at Ripley for biting that little girl. How could my well-trained, good dog do something so bad? Because it was in his nature. How can good people do things like murder other humans, molest their children, gossip, lie to each other? Because it is in our nature. Eve was the first to demonstrate the pull sin has in our minds. That’s where the real battle takes place. Call it a conscience, call it a moral choice; it’s still a power struggle between your ears. The apostle Paul talked about being purposeful with the thoughts you allow because they have the power to take over your life (2 Corinth: 10:1-18). The struggle may just look like me versus the plate of nachos, but it is really about me eating my stress and needing to deal with my troubles. I know you can relate. I’ve watched a friend slowly slide into anorexia that totally took over her life. It wasn’t a battle between her and her food. It was a struggle in her mind. I struggle with depression that effects every aspect of my life and relationships. The war isn’t against the outside situations in my life. It is the inner conversation that I need to control before it washes me away.

Let’s go back to God’s nature. First, if you really want to get an impression of who God is, read the Old Testament. I thought it would be boring (the book of Chronicles is boring), but it’s actually kind of funny. The Israelites were a bunch of orgy loving, naughty children. What it shows is that God is REALLY patient. And consistent. People are bad, not God. People shoot other people, not God. God created perfection, man (given freedom from the beginning) chose rebellion and sin. We are still choosing that today. We want to do things OUR way, on our terms. We want God to bless us according to OUR wants, not what God would have planned for us. Oh no! That would be too scary and not enough control. Like, what if God wants me to be a South American missionary?! I don’t do well in the heat. I want God to bless me in the comfortable way that I choose. Me, me, me. I, I, I. God, make the world act according to MY view of perfection. Actually, God, just move over because I think I would be a better god than you. Satan tried that. It didn’t work out to well for him and he was sent here. To earth. As punishment. Let that settle in when you wonder why our world isn’t “perfect”. This is the celestial “penalty box” right now. Thank God for the blessings you DO have.

We can’t blame God for our rebellious nature that brings perpetual brokenness into the world. Sin is not God’s nature. Perfection is not ours. Grace brings it all together, and boy

do we need it. If you don’t believe in God because people do horrific things to each other, then I feel so sad for your broken heart. I’m not saying that in a southern “bless your heart” kind of way. My husband lives with a broken heart; therefore, my heart breaks for him. Jeremy doesn’t understand how God could “allow” the bad things to happen to innocent people, but it isn’t God’s fault. It is our fault. We have to own our humanity and be humble in front of our Creator. Your belief (or lack thereof) in Him doesn’t change who He is any more than my belief Ripley would have the friendly mind of a Golden Retriever once he was trained. It just isn’t him.

These blogs aren’t to “preach” at you. I really do love you friends. These are messages to Natalia because she will continue to live in a broken world. Her faith will be tested, shaken, and pulled taut. I want her to look at this and know that I understand, but hold tight. Of course we all feel uncomfortable in this world. You weren’t created to stop here. We all know this deep inside us. We were created for something else. God passionately loves you like the perfect parent loves their child. When Christians talk about Heaven and “going home”, we aren’t being macabre. We just know that the blanket of sin is heavy and temporary. I told Jeremy yesterday that I can’t wait to go to heaven because my body is so heavy and painful. I live in constant, nagging pain that even invades my dreams. It’s so temporary. I will shed this busted-up body and get my new one (I Corinth 15:53). I will finally be true to my intended nature. Who and where I was supposed to be. So will Ripley. He hopefully won’t feel the need to “protect” me anymore and the biting will stop. Everybody knows all dog go to heaven… even the “jerk-face” dogs. 

Occultism & My Christianity

I find people generally fall into two categories: People who believe in the supernatural, and those who haven’t experienced it yet. The people who have had experiences but have decided to explain it away after the fact fall into the first category in my opinion. Since this is my blog, well, it’s all my opinion.

Okay, So I’m going to be setting up a few points here before I get to the meat of the topic. Christians are supernaturalists. We believe we have a soul, we believe God is super-duper out of this realm, and we also believe in angels. They are the “worker bees” of heaven. Lucifer was a perfectly created cherub who was both wise and exceptionally beautiful (Ezekiel 28:12-19). Lucifer decided he was too good to not be in charge and got himself kicked out of heaven along with one-third of his friends. Oh, he also got a name change. Lucifer (the morning star) became Satan (the adversary).

Next topic. This scripture is one that will make most people squirm. Ready?! It’s from Ephesians 6:12

For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the rulers, against the authorities, against the powers of this dark world and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms.

This means that we are in the middle of a battle whether we like it or not. Either you are ready, or you are a casualty. Your battle isn’t really against your husband who you no longer connect with, your child who has lost her battle to addiction again, or yourself in the throes of depression. You are battling The Adversary. Let’s all picture The Church Lady from Saturday Night Live….. Satan!

Now I’m going to tell you how he got to me and to my kiddo. It was my fault and I have owned it and moved on. My purpose of sharing this is to speak to someone else who unknowingly opens the door to the same mess I did. In essence I was a Christian lady practicing Satanism. Yep. It’s really that simple. Not my best moment, but there it is.

No, I wasn’t sacrificing goats or selling my soul. Satan is smart, remember?! I have a spiritual gift where I can see what some people call “auras”. This led to me being able to see "spirits" in my house. I knew I wasn’t schizophrenic because Natalia could see them too before she knew I had any sort of gift. I have had this gift since I was little. Natalia started when she was four. I’m here to tell you that I struggled to figure out how God would give me, or Natalia for that matter, a “gift” if it was not from Him? To answer that I first went to all the wrong places (Pinterest, books on mediumship) and then I went to the bible (last) along with a couple of pastors. At first I hated the answer. It wasn’t what I wanted to hear.

God does give spiritual gifts. His Holy Spirit dishes out what is appropriate for God’s purpose (I Corinthians 12:7-11). The emphasis is on God. What started out as my house being “busy” with apparitions moving here and there every once and awhile became spirits of people’s relatives passing on messages through me. The messages caused me a lot of anxiety and never made sense to me. They made sense to the person I delivered it to and it was creepy. Yes, just like the mediums on TV. Something in me inherently knew it was “off” and I kept searching for a sense of peace with this “gift” and just wasn’t finding it. In the meantime, Natalia was freaking out because she was seeing “people” in her room more frequently and I was constantly praying over her and her room and burning sage in the house trying to get the “busy-ness” to stop. Something was wrong.

To my friends who I thought I was helping. I’m sorry. Those were not your loved ones. I am a coward that I haven’t told you to your face. I honestly didn’t know when I talked to you and I was doing it in good faith thinking I was helping. Hebrews 9:27 says “Just as people are destined to die once, and after that to face judgment”. There is nothing in the bible that talks about an interim or the need for relatives to communicate back and forth. All communication happens between man and angels, or man and God/His Holy Spirit. He doesn’t need grandpa to validate anything. In other words, when we die we are removed to paradise (like the criminal on the cross next to Jesus) and the “loved ones” that spoke to me were “angels”, but not God's. They were the other one-third.

Why is this important? You may say “Well there isn’t any harm in it because it gives people closure and peace when they seek out mediums.” Remember the Ephesians scripture? It’s the bigger picture and Satan is insidious. He wants your attention off God and, well, anywhere else. Grandpa, yourself, your grief. He doesn’t really care; he just doesn’t want you going to God. If you are going to a medium, or tarot cards, or meditating on your future to create a positive path then you aren’t yielding to God. You are controlling you. Satan loves pride. It’s something he knows best.

There is always a “door point” where the occult gets in. It goes back generations for me and has been in my family all my life, and my mother’s life. I’ll just talk about my stuff, though. When I was in elementary school I played with Ouija boards. I know many people think it is a slumber party game, but it’s not. I actually made one with ripped up pieces of paper and a

drinking glass and used it alone. It worked and I let garbage in. I read countless books on hauntings and demonology. I had Pinterest boards on hauntings and demonic possessions. I used sage to “clean” my house while “praying”, but I was trying to get it done. When I finally realized I had the occult pouring into my life and was cooperating with it, I had a hard talk with God. I said I was sorry. Like the kind of sorry where I don’t do that anymore. I also talked to Natalia and apologized to her and Jeremy for allowing that garbage in the house. Natalia has not seen anything in her room since that day. Nothing.

My spiritual gifts don’t go away, but I turned the mediumship off. Yes, it can be done. There are still times when I “know” things, but I ask God before I react. Satan loves that gift for me because it made me feel special and gave me a sense of pride. At one point another medium offered me a job to work with her as a medium “team”. I know that moment of my life was a test. It was a huge distraction for my faith and my family. It is a stumbling block for sure.

It kills me when people don’t want to accept the totality of the warfare we are in. I am reading a book that eloquently stated some Christians want to reduce God to a “happiness vending machine”. If I do these works, God will produce these blessings. Like any good dad, God wants you to feel loved and in that way happy; but His primary goal isn’t for you to be absorbed in earthly happiness. Your real home is with Him in heaven. That’s why we are so restless here trying to fill that “hole in our soul”. The only thing that fits is God. Not your children, not your job, not your spouse, not your fancy shoes. God.

So what do you do if you want to fill that hole? How do you do it? What are the steps? Well, the most difficult thing, the most radical thing to accept is there is nothing you can do. It is the most painful and beautiful concept to wrap your brain around. Most Christians don’t even have that one down. So you yield. You give up; surrender. You realize that Jesus knew you before you were “you” and took all your mistakes to hell and dropped them off. He did that so your soul could be free to meet Him at the family dinner table. God is a family man. If you aren’t a part of the family, you don’t get in. It’s not about being a “nice person”. You may be a nice person, but if I don’t know you then you aren’t being fed supper by me tonight. By the way we are having Greek quinoa and it’s amazing. Just the same, if you don’t know God, you aren’t getting in. He’s easy to get to know and He’s consistent. Since Jesus pitched your mistakes (sins), God sees you as his child and will never stop fighting for your love. Just like we would never stop fighting for our own children, God loves you so

much more. It’ll make you cry when you figure it out, I swear. Since you don’t “do” anything to be in God’s family besides have a relationship, you don’t have to be “perfect” to get started. He’ll meet you where you are and smooth out the rough spots as needed. If you find yourself feeling like “well, I’m too far gone” or “that’s not for people like me” just remember who’s talking to you. Not God. Satan loves that stuff. It’s an easy target and keeps you off kilter. God doesn’t accuse you, Satan does. God rescues, Satan overwhelms. God loves his family; Satan is out to destroy your relationships. Choose family. Please choose family. 

Natalia: Conspiracy Theorist

Natalia is a born conspiracy theorist. I mean, who doesn't love a good conspiracy story anyway. Aliens, government cover-ups, biblical mysteries; she loves them all. The best part, all of her stories have a sliver of truth to them, so you know they are good. Jeremy and I actually Google her chronicles to figure out where in the world she comes up with this stuff. We still have no idea how the stories evolve in her brain, but there is some truth to them. Some of you may remember the "green granny smith spider" (click on it to catch up on the legend). This terrifying arachnid can take out five kids on the playground in one nasty spray. She saw a kid go down that day from it's venomous onslaught of terror. I think I found out later that kid has type I diabetes, so he probably did go down that day... but not from "Granny".

Okay, so here is the conspiracy story we got last year that I am JUST now getting around to telling y'all.

In another country there is a company that makes t-shirts and ships them to the US. It's a popular manufacturing site for making t-shirts, apparently. Well, one day when a worker was doing something involving stirring shirts in a vat of chemicals, the worker fell in! The shirts being manufactured were white, but when the worker fell into the mixer, or whatever, it stained all the shirts RED! (This is a good story, huh). The company is so corrupt that they just added more red dye to the batch, and now if you are wearing a red shirt you are probably wearing the blood of that poor worker! Shame!

Yes, I get that my daughter is the future hipster, granola, "can I tell you why dairy is bad for you?" college student of America.

So I actually re-Googled it and found it is a story from 2013 Rana Plaza factory collapse in Bangladesh. All of the articles I found talk about clothing being manufactured based on the "blood, sweat, and tears" of Indian workers. It's really sad stuff. Last year when Natalia was in fifth grade they had to find current event articles to talk about in class. I guess she skimmed. Her story is much more interesting. In Natalia's defense, after reading the article I'm pretty sure all of our t-shirts (regardless of color) have some blood mixed in them. Yikes!

Then there is the story about how you can use coconut water for a blood transfusion. What?! We had been to Mexico not too long before and enjoyed walking around the shops armed with pesos and a fresh coconut with a straw. Now I'm imagining tourists walking around with fanny packs and coconuts hanging from IV poles while they head into Senior Frogs. As a nurse I was willing to stand firm in my "know-it-allness" and shoot this down. Natalia was adamant that this was a real thing. 

Enter Google.

I guess the article came from NPR about how coconut water is similar in composition to human plasma. In Somalia, a guy's life was saved by an emergency transfusion of coconut water when nothing else was available. How they figured out to reach for a coconut is beyond me. 

Nurse: "Doctor, we are losing him!"

Doctor: "Hand me a coconut"

Nurse: .....

Doctor "Hand me a coconut, dammit, we are running out of time!"

Nurse: "Can somebody shake that tree and give the doctor a damn coconut?!"

There are also rumors that coconut water was used during the World Wars for the same reasons. So there you go. Maybe the concept of fanny packs and IV coconuts isn't too far from the future after all. 

Sometimes Natalia just hits us with random factoids. Like, we were at the zoo checking out the giraffes when she says "If a giraffe falls down it dies." We were next to a kiddo who was about five, or six who all of a sudden looked very concerned about the giraffe's welfare. Jeremy and I were all like, "Nuh, uh." and we start arguing with our child like we are all in fifth grade. So what do we do? We Google it, of course. You know what? She's right! If a giraffe falls down in the wild it can't get itself back up and will meet its demise by either starvation or predator. As in lions and such, not the extraterrestrial hunter of Arnold Schwarzenegger; although I guess that is a possibility...

There you go. Natalia 3, parents 0.

So, after a few of these immature battles with our smarty-pants tween, Jeremy and I have stopped Googling the stories. Well, sometimes Jeremy will look into, as Paul Harvey would say, "The rest of the story". Last night Natalia was sitting on my lap crying (literally) because she says she's "stupid". What?! Not even!

She is still struggling in school. Lots of "F's". She just finished being watched like a goldfish in a bowl by resource teachers to test for disabilities. The word

disability sounds off to me. Quirky learner sounds more appropriate. I told her last night that she is the best student I have ever seen. I'm not just paying mommy lip service here. It's not like "my kid is a very special kid because I made her", although I feel that way too. No. Here's why: I have never seen a student work so hard and stay motivated even when she knows her grades are going to consistently stay low. She knows there is something wrong with her processing. It's not like it is a secret. She has to work harder for her mediocre grades than anyone in her class and it's exhausting. All that, and she still loves learning. That speaks volumes about her school and teachers. It makes me so proud of her character. She is starting to figure out ON HER OWN what works for her and what causes her brain to put on the brakes. That's huge. Okay, I'm wandering away from my point, but she can totally learn and she is insanely smart. When she takes in information she really keeps it. These stories are funny because she has limited life experience to wrap them up in a realistic bow, but she understood the complexities of the stories. Gold star.

I'll try to keep y'all up to speed on her latest conspiracy theories. It's a public service really. How would you know there is a green granny smith spider threat, or that the Black Claw (another blog link) is waiting in the climbing tubes at Wings to capture your children? Should the zombie apocalypse cause a massive disaster, make sure you grab as many coconuts as you can; and if you see a fallen giraffe for heaven's sake help him up before he dies. 

My Autoimmune Disease: Because I'm so delicious, my body eats itself

I have looked back over my "Motherhood" posts that are marked "draft" and see that I have tried to write this particular post about five times. What is the holdup? A couple of things. One, Jeremy has cautioned me about being too transparent when I am vulnerable emotionally. He is the Spock to my Mary Poppins, so I have put this on the back burner. I feel "called" to finally get this out now, and I hope it speaks to the few that read my blog. Besides, March is Autoimmune Awareness Month.

Almost two years ago I was diagnosed with an autoimmune disease called undifferentiated connective tissue disease. My rheumatologist assured me he didn't make that up. It is similar to Lupus, but I do not have the internal organ damage that people with Systemic Lupus Erythematosus (SLE) suffer. What I have is a bunch of odd-ball symptoms because my body thinks I am a Frankenstein-like patchwork of transplant tissue, and therefore is in attack

mode ALL THE TIME. It's annoying, to say the least. 

Fun facts about my autoimmune disease for all my nursing people out there: I am allergic to the sun, therefore I get to wear my marvelous hats and carry an umbrella in the summer sunshine. And y'all thought I was just being fabulous in my pictures! 

It makes me dumb in a "toddler just ran into your room at 3am screaming with a bloody nose kind of stupor". You are awake, but if you had to put a puzzle together for Survivor your tribe would vote you off that night. Raynaud's means that my hands and feet are not only cold and corpse-like, but they hurt when they clamp off. My body doesn't like my thyroid either, so I have Hashimoto's thyroiditis and will be on Synthroid forever. The good news is "Hashimoto's" is fun to say with a Japanese accent in a louder than acceptable voice. 

My body also hates my joints, so it's like I constantly walk with the feeling of sprained ankles/knees. Then they swell to not-quite Hillary Clinton status, and that hurts too. I have also hit the genetic jackpot with early onset of osteoarthritis. That is why I had my knee replaced a year ago. THAT knee was my "good" knee before I knocked the cartilage off it. The other knee will need to be replaced in about five years, or so. Oh, my hands have arthritic changes in them too, which has started affecting my ability to open jars, push syringes at work, and stuff like you see on mid-day commercials for old people. 

Okay, so what do I do about this? Complain. Just kidding, although I do feel like I complain a lot. I take medications to knock my immune system down; prednisone to make me feel better, but make me irritable too (we won't talk about the weight stuff); and then there is the dieting. Dammit. Before now I had never been on a diet a day in my life. Now I hate food. I hate it because a lot of it makes me sick. 

I cut out gluten, which was remarkably easy in Boise. For two weeks I cut out carbohydrates except fruit because I had gained 10lbs from the damn prednisone and caramel popcorn obsession. Both of those are gluten free. Okay, so I lose the poundage and feel better. That REALLY sucks because now I know in order to feel better I have to cut out a lot of carbohydrates and have all these "rules" for eating. I will find an unhealthy avenue to ANY diet. I have figured out how to make the best gluten free buttermilk biscuits ever, and I eat grits with two tablespoons of butter and Splenda (see, moderation) in the morning. I find if I eat my carbs in the morning, I do alright. 

I think if you ask anyone with an autoimmune disease what the worst part of their "diseaseness" is, they would say it is that they look normal. I happen to look quite fabulous most of the time. All of us Lupus-like people have had someone say to us "But you don't look sick". That is the most dismissive thing you can say to... well, anyone. Like if someone was suicidal, would you say "But you don't look sad"? No. Granted, I know there are dumb people out there. I'm a nurse after all. They are my job security. My disease war takes place inside my body. My boss is amazing and can tell when I "wilt" at work and has sent me home. If I am "wilting" I have way overdone it. I tend to keep powering through because it is embarrassing for me to admit defeat from a disease that doesn't look like a disease. I'm worried people will think I'm "faking it".

My round, prednisone face

Yesterday I got home from work and picked Natalia up from school about 4:00 pm. I could not keep my eyes open. I went to bed at 4:30 pm in my work clothes and false eyelashes and didn't wake up today until 9:00 am today. That is what it is like to have an autoimmune disease. You don't even see it coming. Just BAM. You are out of commission. I didn't even get up to eat. That is very telling for those of you who know me. I like food. A lot. 

I am definitely a changed woman. When I was diagnosed and then had my knee replacement I had to face the harsh reality that I could never be a floor nurse again. My body cannot do that anymore. Ever. I will not "get better". This isn't like having a cold. I will gradually get worse. I actually have gone through stages of grief because of this. What it has taught me is compassion. I was so snarky and judgemental toward patients who had chronic pain issues. You know why? Because I feared being in that situation. It's a very vulnerable place to be. 

I know so much about autoimmune diseases now, and there is so much more to learn. People with autoimmune illnesses want to be heard and understood. I can offer that to my patients now. My "plot-twist" of life has led me to becoming a Nurse Practitioner. I had lost my enthusiasm for nursing when I became burnt out of the ER. I have found my passion again. Some day I am going to have my own clinic in a neighborhood. I am going to take care of you and your families. I am going to have a rescued dog who is a therapy animal that is not only the clinic mascot, but an active provider as well. The dog will calm the kiddos during vaccinations and make everyone happy. No, it won't be Ripley because he is a jerk to everyone but the Lacows. He has to stay home.

I'm rolling with my punches. It has taken a year, but I can see how blessed I am to have all this happening in my life. God has given me an opportunity to find my compassion, become the nurse I had dreamed of being, and understand that I am so much more than my profession or body. Yes, I get frustrated and sad when I have a series of flares and bad days. I can tell you that deep in my soul where everything counts I am happy and loved. Everything else is just temporary.  

It's Hard to "Like" Unfiltered Photos

Today's post is brought to you by the letter 'P'. As in photo. I LOVE taking pictures. I actually take a lot less now than I used to. Mostly because Jeremy and Natalia just got sick of my stopping every two seconds to set up another picture. I finally had to have a coming to Jesus meeting with them telling them to smile, dammit. It makes me happy, so look happy. They still complain, but I have less pictures of the back of Natalia's head and more pictures where Jeremy looks like he is actually enjoying himself. I have a resting b#*@h face, but Jeremy has a resting serial killer face. We are all working on it.

These fun Lacow pictures eventually make it onto Facebook. Yeah, I have an Instagram account, but realistically I can only handle one social media account at a time. More than that is too much work. I don't count Pinterest as social media. It's actually where I go to get away from people. I can cruise all sorts of interesting things and I don't have to interact with anybody. An introverts haven. 

I pretty much wear a lot of my insecurities on my sleeve because I know I'm not alone. I totally get caught in the trap of obsessively checking Facebook to see who has "liked" my pictures and posts. My logical, left brain knows that this should not matter. My right brain wants to not only gather all the "likes" to validate my worth, but also compare my accumulation of "likes" with other

family "likes". I am cringing right now at how ridiculous this is sounding. Facebook has become the equivalent of passing notes with the "do you like me; check 'yes' or 'no'". The only problem is I get to lie to you on Facebook. I get to show you this candy coated version of our family outings. I'm not snapping pictures of the frustrated family moments when Jeremy and I have five "false starts" getting into the car to get going because we can't get our stuff together. Then we get down the block and remember we STILL forgot something, so we have to turn around and head back into the house to get it. This is when Natalia takes out her headphones to ask "What's wrong? What happened? Are you mad at me?" when Jeremy and I just want to quietly stew so we don't blow up. You know we are both blaming each other for not getting out the door in one fail swoop. I'm certainly not going to take a picture of him trying to find his hat (again) that he insists I moved (why would I touch his hat?!), and he is not going to take a picture of me angrily putting on lip liner while I blame him for going over speed bumps too fast. Does he KNOW how hard it is to put lip liner on in the car?! No. We are not taking our Facebook pictures of all this stuff. Maybe we should. It actually sounds kind of funny now. 

Okay, I promise I will eventually arrive at a point. Stay with me. 

So, about a year-ish ago Natalia set herself up with an Instagram account. Yeah, I made the same face you are making now. I let her go with it only because my sister was the "watchdog" for the account. I want to add that Natalia has also set herself up with a Snapchat account that she deleted herself. This is just to scare the pants off the other tween mothers. I can tell you your tweens ARE doing this. They do not need your help. Yes, you should panic now. 

Okay, back to the blog stuff. The Instagram account went well.... for a while. At first it was what you would expect from Natalia. Lots of pictures of cats in tights and dogs that didn't know how to "dog". Totally cool, right? Then she started in with the selfies. Okay. They were cute. They were selfies with her with a mustache, or her with a funny hat stamped on the photos. Natalia did start to show me her friends' Instagram. Some of her friends were posting things like "I bet you don't have the guts to tell me I'm beautiful. Like this if I'm pretty", and then they would post a picture with their hair flipped to the side and a coy look. Yes, there was filtering involved. No mustaches. 

Are you grinding your teeth now in that unconscious anxious way that the dentist had to give you the drool inducing mouthpiece for? Me too. Take a breath, because it gets worse.

Natalia showed it to me and we had a good "after school special" talk. I felt so accomplished as a mother. I was totally like, "Ha! That won't be MY child because she likes dogs that can say 'I love you' like a human and doesn't care about 'likes' on Instagram". Was I high?! It took about three months before she caved to the peer pressure and my sister called me with the "Have you checked out Natalia's Instagram" call. 

Crap.

Okay, so I look. First of all, I had to figure out what my password was and then try to figure out how to navigate Instagram. Then I had to wipe away my frustrated tears because I felt super old that I had finally lost touch with technology. My child was already smarter than me in the cyber sense. I had been outmaneuvered by a 10 year old. Dammit.

Once I figured out how to even LOOK at what has been going on, I catch up with what has actually been going on. Natalia has been posting things like "I bet you aren't brave enough to say I'm beautiful", or something like that. Crap! AND, her photos have gone from Moon Moon the Husky that can't "dog", to selfies that have been filtered, edited, and "improved". Crap! Set your tasers to stun because I have to take out a tween. I'm just going to take her out for like, ten years. Actually, based on all the "leggings as pants" college girls downtown, I'll take her out for 15 years. I'm just jealous because I can't wear leggings as pants, but that's probably another blog for another day.

Okay, so we had another talk, but more importantly I had HER shut down her Instagram account. I could tell you that it was because I wanted her to be responsible for shutting down the account, but realistically it is because I have no idea how to navigate that damn site, let alone cancel her account. I was fried for that day and didn't want to deal with the frustration of being beaten by technology..... again. 

We made an agreement that she is not allowed to have any social media accounts until, well, I don't know when. When I un-taser her. How's that? It is just too difficult to not get sucked into the "likes". I'm 39 and I get sucked into the "likes". I am filtering, cropping, and editing most of my pictures so you see only what I want you to see. That has become our society norm. I think for the most part it is not that big of a deal unless you don't know who you are yet. Tweens fall into that category for sure. 

Okay, so I was on The Chive today and I saw a post about a girl who went back into her Instagram account and re-labeled her posts. This is the link to look through her pictures and how she was honest about what was really going on. The pictures look candid, but she comes clean that the pictures often took about 100 takes to get "right". She would go without eating for most of the day, the pictures were paid for by promoters of clothing or tanning products, and she was only 15! I am going to go through these with Natalia because she (and I) look at these types of pictures and think "Oh my. I should go to the gym so I can look like this. This body is normal and I am just falling behind. She looks so happy because this is what happiness looks like". I'm glad I read it. What makes me really happy is this girl was 19 when she edited her posts. She sounds like she is really on the right path. I love a happy ending, don't you?

This stuff is really dear to my heart and this is why: I have much younger sisters. One is obsessed with selfies, the other has had fluctuating weight issues all of her life. I have a dear friend who was severely anorexic and I thought that she might actually die. Most of my life I thought if I gained so-and-so amount of weight my husband would just up and leave me. Like there was a magic number that when I reached that amount he would about-face and say "Peace out". One day I was thinking about what my "worth" was all about and I realized the worst thing that could happen to me at that moment was for me to go blind. How would I be able to gauge my worth if I couldn't see? How would I be able to know that I had a nice car, looked pretty, was thin, had cute clothes, a cute house with a purple door? Scary, huh? I can tell you that our daughters see that stuff. We don't have to tell them anything. Those insecurities are out there like ugly Christmas sweaters. They announce themselves. 

Okay, so what do we do about this? I can tell you all the right answers, but that would be akin to my edited pictures on Facebook. How about I show-out the "pictures" of us trying to leave the house for the umpteenth time? Okay, so let's say the right things. Moms, we all know what to say. We all read that Pinterest good mommy crap all the time, and then post it to Facebook. Ha! Aren't we funny?! I can tell you that I make a face every time I put on my jeans right now because I am 15 pounds over my normal weight and can't fit into most of my clothes. I crop my photos so you don't see that. I am going to try to stop making that sour face. I have also started working out and quit raiding the Halloween candy. Damn candy for being gluten free. 

I am not going to pitch a fit when Natalia dresses herself and "fixes" her own

hair. See what I did there? Look at those quotes. Lose the quotes. She fixes her hair. It is her hair to style and she is learning how to do it. I need to back off. She is not a "Gap kid", nor is she heading out to a photo shoot. We are going to Fred Meyer for heavens sake to pick up cheese and then a bunch of stuff that wasn't on our list because it was on sale. I should be happy with her washing her hands, like once that day. 

I am going to listen with my mouth closed. This is a big one because my mouth is a big one. I mean, look at this blog. Wor-dy! I am a fixer so I feel like I have a lot of advice to give. Natalia has ADHD, so she ain't go time to listen to my dissertation on how calling out line-cutters in sixth grade will define the moral background of her life in her thirties. Yeah, she doesn't care. She just wants to vent. I've learned to ask "Do you want help, or do you just want to vent?" It helps me know what I'm in for. Most of the time she just wants to vent and then a hug. One good thing about being 15 pounds overweight right now is my hugs are a lot softer. Natalia won't remember that mom couldn't fit into her jeans when she was in sixth grade, but she will remember sitting on the mommy chair while I hugged and held her. 

It really bothers me when people don't like me, so I'm not going to try and sell Natalia the notion that she shouldn't care. She's going to care and it's going to

hurt. It's about perspective. She (and I) need to focus on the quality people who do like us. I tell her that if people don't like her it's because they really don't know her. Also, there is my strawberry ice cream analogy, which I found out she absolutely hates. I tell her that people are like strawberry ice cream. Not everybody likes strawberry ice cream, but that doesn't mean it's bad; it's just not for everyone. It's fine. I use ice cream analogies a lot. Jeremy reminded me that when we were dating the first time when we were 14 I told him that he was also like ice cream. I like ice cream, but when you have it every day, all the time, you are going to get sick of it. Nope. That did not go over well. He one-upped me by telling me that I was like cancer when we broke up our freshman year. He said just when he thought he got rid of me, I came back again. See, my analogies are yummy and cute. His are horrible. Jeremy and I were laughing about these stories walking back from the Little Big Town concert this week while Natalia looked at us like we were crazy. 

Okay, so let me try and wrap this up. I'm certainly not judging the kiddos that have social media accounts. Natalia's friend lives in Singapore right now and has one to stay in touch with her friends in the states. I get that. I let Natalia have one to see where it would go. Well, it went where I feared it would go. Not because there is anything wrong with her, but because she is just a normal tween. It's a lot of pressure for all of us. Even now that she doesn't have a social media account doesn't mean that all those desires to be accepted and keep up with her peers have magically gone away. Nope. Those are still there. I just know that Instagram fed the beast. I want her to know the pictures aren't real. Most of all I want her to know daddy and I are here to listen with our mouths closed, and provide as many hugs as necessary until we have to lock her away for 15 years because we can't figure out how to navigate her social media accounts. Sometimes you have to take the easy route. 

Lumpy Clay and Rough Patches

100% photoshopped and filtered

I feel like I keep writing the same blog over and over again, but it never quite makes the cut to your eyes. I'm going to explore another avenue of motherhood right here. The imperfect world of absolute brokenness. It is the taboo state that mothers do not want to admit to because we fear that even uttering the word will collapse our house of cards. We fear that announcing our defeats will crumble our fiercely held facade, which is sometimes the last thing we are clinging to. It is the last thing I am clinging to right now. An image that is crumbling before my eyes. Thank God because I am exhausted holding that crap up. Whew. I'm no Atlas able to hold up the world so I'm just going to start putting things down one pretty piece at a time. 

This has been a long process. I asked God years ago to move my butt over and let people see Him through me. Like, get me out of the way. Be careful what you ask for. I can tell you that I am not "there" yet. I am, as I put it in a Facebook status post, a piece of lumpy clay still. I mean, I know most of us are slightly lumpy, but I walked around for years pretending that my lovely lady lumps were supposed to be there. They weren't. 

I will tell you where I am at in all transparency. I am a woman who lost a baby in 2012. Yes, it wasn't planned and it was ectopic, but it was also my "last chance" at ever having another child. Jeremy didn't think the timing was right for another child so that is why we decided together that Natalia would be a singleton. I also never really allowed myself to mourn the fact that I lost a baby that day. I had one day of that scared excitement you get when you find out you are pregnant only to realize my body was not made for making babies. I also realize now the fact we have Natalia is awesome-sauce. I'm super grateful. 

I became burned out of my dream job as an ER nurse. I had wrapped up my whole identity as a person in that job title. When I left the ER I found I was no longer proud of who I was as a person. That really terrified me. I realized my sense of self was on pretty shaky ground if my whole "me" was built on a job that I couldn't hack anymore. Not only that, I went to a job where people made fun of the work I did as a nurse. That was humbling and embarrassing. See how the lumps are getting smoothed out? Now I'm at a surgical center that is not exactly glamorous, but at least it's not revolving around fecal matter. 

I lost my mom this year. I lost my dad when I was 21 years old. Therefore I am now an orphan. The kicker is that both of my parents are still alive, but they were so abusive and pathological that I have had to stop all contact with them in order to protect my own family. Both of my parents do not have the capability to love or bond with their children, so I have never really had parents to begin with. I didn't realize this of course until I had Natalia and realized what loving and bonding was really like. I am one of four siblings, but the only one who will fully acknowledge the abuse and neglect. Obviously I am not a very popular family member. This is another lump that is being worked on. As a matter of fact, this lump is a pretty big one and is being worked on right now. So I cry a lot at random times. Like at the doctors office for a routine checkup for my thyroid. Awkward! Dang it I just started tearing up right now....

I have lost my health. I look like a pretty put together package on the outside,

but my health is not good. I'm not going to tell people it is great to make them feel comfortable. It doesn't do any of us any good anymore. Denial has not been my friend. I have a disease that there is no cure for, and I long for the days past when I didn't even think about my health every moment. I am in constant pain. Every moment. My pain invades my dream story lines and then wakes me up. It makes my hair fall out. The medications make me gain weight. It hurts to move, but if I stop moving I will get worse. I push through and smile so my family doesn't worry. I'm exhausted on some days, and just plain tired on others. Most of all I'm angry. Like spitting nails angry. I'm angry that my body has betrayed me. I followed the rules, exercised, didn't lead a high risk lifestyle and I am still sick. Even now I am following all of the treatment rules and I am still not rewarded with better days. I am not yet at the point where I have accepted that this disease is mine and has changed my life. I'm working on it, but I'm not there yet. I'm still busy being angry.

I am afraid. Like paralyzed in my own skin afraid. I am working on my Master's degree and have clinicals coming up in spring. I haven't really got anything prepared like I should have because I am afraid of being told I'm not good enough or smart enough to be a nurse practitioner. Like, I am "test taking" smart, but clinically scary. I do not know who I am right now and it is the scariest place I have ever been in. I am no longer defined by my job, defined by my past, controlled by my abusers words in my head, or spoon fed by a teacher in a class room. I am an empty vessel and I can feel that void right now pretty strong. It feels like a vacuum. I get why people want to stuff all sorts of random things in there. I'm just standing still in my life right now trying to figure out what in the world fits in that space!?

So with all of this I can tell you that I am pretty sensitive right now. Like, can you blame me? I don't need anything from anyone. I have fabulous support from a good counselor, Jeremy, Natalia, and some close friends. What I need is time and healing. Both of those will come from me. I just want you to know that I feel you, girl. I understand that feeling of swimming in jello. I get how hard it is to keep up that pretty facade because some days it is the only thing you are holding on to. Sometimes a good day comes down to being able to match your underwear to your bra and that's it. Take that win and enjoy it. The pressure we have in our heads is amazing. What is terribly sad is it is really all in our heads. I have been more open with Jeremy than ever, and he really doesn't have any of the crazy expectations that I have. My fear is that I will let him down if I flunk out of school and that I am a financial detriment to our family. He is thinking that I am really smart to make into the program and I am a worthwhile investment. It's all in my head. Girl, it's all in your head too. 

Here is my parting thought. Dump the toxic crap from your life. I have A LOT going on right now. I may be too heavy for you if you have a bunch going on. I am 100% giving you permission to take a break from me if you need to. But seriously, look around at your circle. Do they build you up? When you get off the phone, quit texting, or leave the restaurant are you energized from the encounter; or are you drained from the conversation? I understand that everyone goes through rough patches (like me) where they aren't necessarily going to be able to pep you up with every conversation. What I am getting at is are they sucking you dry every time? You are someone to be cherished and your friendship should be reciprocated. It's a big deal. You deserve honest interactions and interest in your life. Gossip and snark are just not the way to go and these things are so contagious. I can tell you first hand that I have a hard time with these when I am in a bad place. Why? Because I just feel so crumby about myself that I want to make sure that I'm not the only crumby person on the planet. Announcing the faults of other people is my way of convincing myself that it's okay to drop the perfection facade. Then I walk away feeling like a jerk because I am acting so childish and petty. Call me out on that stuff. Jeremy does and I love him for it. Those are the kind of friends we all need.

I have wanted to share all of this with you guys for a long time. It's where I'm

at, but it is unpleasant. I want to entertain you with funny Natalia stories and perfectly filtered pictures, but this needed to be said as well. It's like the theme song from "The Facts of Life" You take the good, you take the bad; you take them both and there you have the facts of life, the facts of life. It was a good show. I hope you find yourself in a very zen place right now, but if not I hear you girl. I'm on my journey too. I'm a very lumpy piece of clay getting worked over by a gifted potter. It'll be good, but it will take time.