So here I sit. This is one of my favorite ways to begin an article. I’m not sure but what I haven’t started out this way then removed the first line about 18 times. I feel as though I’m letting God down in that I am supposed to wake up early and write. I can’t seem to drag myself out of bed. 5:45. Before the kids get up. For one month. That was the deal. I am having issues with going to bed earlier or maybe the kids are having issues with going to bed earlier. Either way, I have a lot of excuses. It’s amazing how many I can come up with. My alarm rings at 5:45 and I shut her down. The body is weak. This body feels weaker than more than some. My spirit is thirsty for more God. Do you ever get that way? I just need more God. I need answers. I need secrets. I need peace. I need comfort. I need more reminders that it’s all gonna be alright. My shoulders dropped 2 inches away from my ears just typing that.
We go through trials. Some hard, some very hard, and some excruciatingly hard. Notice there are no easy trials? (That’s another thing I’ve been thirsty for…some easy ones.)
My body has betrayed me lately. I can’t do everything I need to do, much less want to do. The promise was given in 2009 that I was healed. I believed it then and I believe it now. Easy as that. Ha! Hilariously untrue! I have to battle each and every day to believe that God knows what He’s doing. Some days it just doesn’t look like it. The fact of the matter is I have to give up control. I once read that many people who have a fear of flying wouldn’t if they got to fly the plane. Having faith is anything but easy, especially when you’re the topic at hand.
Someone told me “it’s only symptoms, you’re healed.” This helped me for awhile. Every time I would get dizzy and have to grab onto the nearest sturdy object or my arms would go slack when I needed them most, I would speak, “These are only symptoms.” Maybe I’m wrong, but healing to me looks a whole lot like NO symptoms. What’s the point of being healed if the symptoms continue?? I could stay sick and the outcome would be the same.
I go about doing what I would normally do, if there is such a thing. I take care of the kids (2 under 3), clean the house, see a couple speech therapy clients, go shopping for items like chia seed, seaweed, flax and avocados, and then wind up sitting. Sometimes I sit with my head between my knees to attempt to stop the world from engulfing me. Many times, my arms will give out, meaning I can’t make them move. It’s like the signal from my brain to my hands has shorted. My battery has suddenly drained and I can no longer go. My face will stop working and I can’t smile, nor do I have the energy to speak much. I am dizzy and lightheaded and unable to get up by myself. (Lord, I pray this is helping someone because I suddenly feel naked in front of the class.)
My world goes on around me, mainly because of the love of my life and best friend, who also just so happens to be my husband. He takes care of the kids, makes PB sandwiches, gets down on the floor, and shows off some pretty spectacular dance moves to distract. My daughter will approach slowly, like sneaking up on a deer, and quietly ask, “Mommy, are you ok?” to which I reply, “Yes, baby, I’m ok,” followed up by, “Will you get me some juice?” I pray I’m done with these episodes soon and she doesn’t recall a thing.
After a few minutes of this reminder that I need God, I begin to yawn like I can’t possibly get enough oxygen where it needs to be. Then the pains come; sharp, shooting, sword-like pains move throughout any and all parts of my body, muscles, joints, head, anywhere. I don’t know where the attack will come, but it can sometimes take me down and knock the wind out of me and my spiritual sails. Which then causes me to ask questions such as, “Um God, where are you? What did I do to deserve this? When will this be over? How am I going to take care of my kids? Do you think a veggie pizza might help?”
After this, it’s to the NRR (New Red Recliner…I couldn’t let the acronym go. It makes me feel very hip and trendy…although now I’m questioning if truly hip people use the word “hip.”)
Nonetheless, sometimes I hear a couple dwarfs chanting, “I go, I go, it’s off to rest I go.” And I rest by taking a short nap. A lot of the time, I’m so much better upon waking. I get up and I can go again for a few hours, doing what I need to do. I refuse to let whatever this is beat me. I teeter on those words yet have to be careful not to push myself too far or I pay for it that day or the next. Someone called this the “push-crash syndrome.” You push too much then crash the next day.
Maybe this is part of my own personal therapy, but I have to be really honest, I hate sharing this. It seems weak. It seems self-loving. It seems ugly and it seems defeating. It is my honest hope that this helps someone to know that it’s not all sunshine and roses. There are clouds and storms and thorns a’ plenty.