What they didn’t tell me.

They didn’t tell me that I would be on an emotional roller coaster. That my happy days would be the greatest, but they would be few and far in-between the most horrible low days. Most days are low now.

Melanoma keeps me from soaking in the sun too long. It makes me worry myself into a frenzy one morning when I see a pink itchy spot on my chest. It makes me stare at my moles. It makes me hate my body because of the distorted leg I now bear.

They didn’t tell me that taking my ovary out along with a huge tumor would completely -F- my hormones up. That’s my diagnosis. I have never had these kinds of mood swings. I have never been so consistently overwhelmed by life in general. Each day I wake up ready to face the world, and by 8:00AM I am in the classroom, staring at a load of impressionable minds that I all-too-easily just snap at instead of teach. I have no patience.

Being a middle school band director takes an amazing amount of patience.

They didn’t tell me that every pain I feel makes me worry that something new is wrong with me.

So, honestly… I am struggling. The above mental battles are vying for attention with my two sweet baby girls, and my husband. And the demands that are above and beyond my classroom job (I’m never volunteering for anything work related ever again), and a few life decisions that need to be made.

I don’t see myself in any more of a difficult situation than any other person living their life, but I would like to get my head above water for a little more than just the second it takes to grab a quick breath.

Maybe just being alive takes an amazing amount of patience. This is my mountain.

Anew

I started my new year today. I know I’m a little early, but I don’t want to wait. 2011 was a cruddy, cruddy year for me. Despite my best efforts, it just never got any better. Within a 12 month span, I had surgery to remove cancer from my leg, a continually disappointing and unsuccessful season of trying to conceive a child, a miscarriage, and a surgery to remove a 10 cm tumor and it’s host ovary.

I’m so over last year.

I woke up this morning and went to the gym. I started a new eating regime (I hate the word “diet”). I went through a stack of paperwork that needed to be tackled. I did laundry and paid bills and baked bread for my children. I sat in the sun. I did a favor for someone. I played fetch with my dogs. I enjoyed silence. I created hope for myself. Hope for a new year of happiness and less worry. I have faith that it is going to happen.

I see a new year in front of me. I see one that has my family and I going to another level in our life. Exciting and frightening and NEW. When I teach my young students something more advanced in class, they always say “but this is hard!”. I tell them, “It’s not hard, it’s just new.” They almost always accept this reasoning and continue on with their work. I’m ready for a NEW life. One that is not difficult to convert to after this past year, but one that is undiscovered. Unlearned.

My family and I went to a service at our church on Christmas morning. I think it was the first time I’ve been in an actual church building on the 25th day of December. The kids were with us instead of going to kids church. Our church family is always good about greeting each other and making you feel welcome, but it was so much more on Sunday morning. There was an excitement in the air. Friends hugged each other more tightly. Strangers looked each other in the eye and smiled a genuine greeting. The pastor spoke about  BEING the presence of the Lord for the world to see, and feel. No more in my life has that message hit my heart like it did on Christmas morning. My husband, my little blonde babes and I lit our candles as the lights dimmed and the music played. Being the light in a dark world, that’s what it’s all about. That’s a part of my new year.

I’m not going to let the stress of a to-do list take my smile away. I’m not going to let house work or school work pile up to a point where I have to say “no” to my kids when they want to snuggle or play. Abby told me yesterday that we don’t snuggle very much anymore because I’m always busy. It broke my heart, but it is true. I am going to change that. I am going to make her world NEW again as well.

I realized a few weeks ago that I am not the girl my husband started dating. I have watered down myself, for whatever reason. I am not as funky as I used to be. I’m not as crazy. He liked that (at least I think), and somewhere along the lines I made myself conform into a “safe zone” of matrimony and motherhood. Yuck. I’m not that kinda girl, y’all.

It’s time to start anew. On December 27th, 2011. I’m 2/3 of a day into it already, and I’m liking what I see.

Juli – version 33.3

Ok. I disappeared there for a little while in a depression funk of hostess cupcakes, sleep, and beer. I’m back. Feeling so much better now. I’m not even going to think about that week of working after 3 weeks post-op. Ugh. Week 4 at school was terrrrrruble.

Week 5 was much, much better. I should have not been there till then.

Now, here I am starting the 6th week, and I am totally on my game. House is getting cleaned. People are getting fed without gnashing their teeth. Students are getting taught. Aaaaaaand…. I just did a workout at the gym. Elliptical. Woot.

I’m just so ready to not be in a fat, funky mess of a mind. I’m looking forward to tomorrow again

Grumpy lady here

Not even a week into recovery. Here is what I’m feeling:

Sad.

Pissed Off.

Melancholy.

Hopeful.

But mostly not hopeful.

Bitter.

Anxious.

Stir Crazy.

But still blessed. And trying to convince myself of that fact.

There you go.

Recovery

Hanging out in the hospital today. My surgery went well yesterday morning, but a little more complicated than anticipated. What we thought was going to be one big cyst to remove, turned into a big cyst and a lot of other endometrium. Looks like I’ve just been diagnosed with endometriosis. Basically, endometriosis is a female health disorder that occurs when cells from the lining of the womb (uterus) grow in other areas of the body.(source)

Without going into a lot of detail, let’s just say that my insides were a complete mess, and the Doc had to work a lot more than expected. He actually said he had to make himself stop at some point because of an increasing risk of creating a bleeder that would force him to remove my uterus.
Good news is that most of it is removed, and there is no threat of cancer. Bad news is, he said we have a 4-6 month window to try and get pregnant naturally. Then, it’s either fertility specialist, or to go ahead with the inevitable now- a hysterectomy.

The Man and I have lots of important decisions to make now. Please continue to pray for healing and wisdom as we are seemingly just beginning this chapter of our lives.

FYI: I should be discharged this evening if all goes well.

Bless MY Heart….

I really never intended this blog to be a way to chronicle my tribulations and illnesses, but to be a log of my journey to my “ideal” life. The one I see inside my head and inside my heart.

I’m getting there. Just not the way I intended.

Soo………  my last post was rather vague, but I was going through something that is not necessarily – well – socially acceptable as an answer to “How you doing, Juli?”, I guess you could say.

–”Good morning, Juli! How are you doing?”–

– “Oh, nothing much. Just had a miscarriage this weekend and now I’m back at work when all I want to do is lay in bed and wallow in grief. How are you?”—

Nobody wants to have that conversation. Not really. Because then, things get REAL. And so many of us are afraid of anything REAL. Keep smiling and ignore it and maybe it’ll go away. It doesn’t, by the way… go away. It will just fester.

So yeah, I had a miscarriage last month. We have been trying and trying and trying and then we were pregnant. Two positive pregnancies tests. Excitement. Nervousness. Slight freakouts and a bunch of happy smiles. I want another baby. The Man wants another baby. We like babies. We like being parents. I even have pictures of my positive pregnancy tests on my computer. I was saving them for a big blog post.

The Man told me to wait. Not to tell anyone. We should wait a while. We are older. You never know.

I lost the baby at 5 weeks. I was with my band at a football game. I was dying inside, but BY GOD, DON’T TELL ANYBODY. People don’t talk about such things.

Screw that. But yet, I stayed relatively quiet.

Enter the lump in my belly. I started noticing it a few weeks before my positive test. I wistfully thought it was a growing uterus (even though that didn’t happen for the first two). After I miscarried, it was still there. Weeks went by, it was still there. Especially noticeable in the morning as I woke up. My full bladder pushing up whatever it was so that it changed the shape of my figure. A hard lump. It is increasingly painful. Like right now. Yeah, it hurts.

I made an appointment with my ob/gyn. I had already made one for my positive pregnancy test, but after the loss, I called and cancelled it, talking with the nurse over miscarriage details. I told them I didn’t know if it was something residual from the loss, or maybe I had a fibroid growing. We have a family history of fibroids. It was my best guess.

My appointment was yesterday. I had to take the day off since it was midday appointment. I was expecting him to say I had a fibroid and us schedule a treatment. Or maybe for him to find nothing and call me crazy. I drank a bunch of water on the way there so my bladder would push it up like it does in the morning. I didn’t want to be called crazy.

So there I was waiting on the table with my “blanket”, or what should be called “huge cheap napkin”, covering my lower naked half. My bladder is full and I need to pee, like I do every 20 minutes, because whatever is inside of me is pushing on my bladder and taking up too much space. I wait. He enters. He feels my abdomen, right bellow my belly button. “Well, something is definitely there”. Yes, I’m not crazy. “Let’s take a look with the ultrasound”.

2 seconds pass. “Yeah, you have something in there.”

It’s not a fibroid. It’s a cyst. On my right ovary. It’s huge. 10.6 cm huge. Grapefruit huge. It’s pushing everything around and taking me over.

Look at my fluid-baby. I’m not so very proud.

He tells me we need to get it out of there before things get complicated. It can rupture. It can twist off the blood supply to my ovary. It can cause lots of pain. Yeah. Let’s get it out.

Monday.

By a laparotomy (C-section cut).

I’ll be out of commission for 3 weeks. Full recovery period of 6 weeks.

Well holy shit.

He will try to save my ovary if at all possible. Probably not. I should be left with one ovary and a working uterus, though, so I am still planning on making another blonde beauty at some point. They will send the cyst to test for cancer. He says the chances of that are low. Pray.

So there I am. Here I am. I have two school days to get my classes in order. Find a substitute. Four days to clean my house enough so that it can sustain itself for weeks until I can get on my feet again. What about my Christmas concert? My poor students. I keep failing them. My poor husband that will have to carry my load. My poor sweet girls that I will not be able to hold up in my arms.

I am a 33 year old worn out bag of bones.

But also, I am not.

I am still that woman on a journey to her “ideal life”, as I stated in the beginning of this post. I see myself on the other side. I see myself in my head, the way I have always wanted to be.

I am greater than the sparrow…..   Luke 12:7

I have wings of an eagle…..  Isaiah 40:31

I am the phoenix that rises from the ashes.

The Sparrow. The Eagle. The Phoenix. I see a tattoo in my future

A Day on the Town

Happy Trees + the Machine

Sometimes I wish for falling, wish for the release
Wish for falling through the air to give me some relief
Because falling’s not the problem, when I’m falling I’m at peace
It’s only when I hit the ground it causes all the grief

A beautiful song. Simple melody and simple lyrics that make perfect sense. Life is exciting and fun and gentle and spiritual – and then it is not. Very suddenly.

I posted this on my Facebook the other night, and then deleted it. I really don’t want to look like a pathetic fool to the two hundred or so people that are my “friends” that have no idea who I am. I wanted it to be seen by those people who GET me. There are a few out there, and I appreciate them immensely. So here I am. Posting on my blog. And then posted my blog on Facebook so people would actually see it. Subscribe so I don’t have to FB, will ya?

I keep wanting this blog to bounce back into a happy world. One with happy trees and happy clouds and Bob Ross. I grew up watching him because my mom watched him on Saturday mornings (no, we didn’t watch cartoons on Saturday, we watched PBS). I didn’t realize how very cool that man really was.

But the blog can’t bounce back into Happy Land. Because fictional Happy Land doesn’t freaking exist. This is the Real World, baby. And I mean “baby” in that “don’t be a sissy” sort of way. Ole’ Bob up there was in the military before he painted happy trees. Bob Ross could have probably kicked all of our asses at some point in time. I think Bob is really Chuck Norris.

Wow. I just put that together and it is kinda scary.

Anyway. Bob earned his trees. Now I’m earning mine.

Jeez. I just started writing out all the things that have happened in the last 12 months, and I got pissed off at myself and erased it all. Something big and new has happened this past week, but I’m keeping that story for another time. That’s the point of this whole post… EVERYONE HAS THEIR BATTLES. I’m not special because of the events that have happened to me. Yes, I have shared some of them. I also have kept some silent. You know about some. You don’t know about others. Does it matter one way or the other? No. It doesn’t affect much at all.

Just like it doesn’t matter much if I know all of your business or not. I might stalk some people online. I may read what they have to say. That doesn’t necessarily mean that I CARE about any of it. It means I’m bored, usually.

I don’t know, though. It’s also nice to know someone has walked the same trail as you. So maybe I’m disagreeing with myself a little here. It’s all well and good to

, but it’s also really, really comforting to know that people just like you have walked the very same path.

To know that no matter what has happened to you; the heartbreak, the hurting, the disappointment, the betrayal, the pain… it has all happened before. You are not the first. I am not the first. I will not be the last. You will not be the last. Someone has been there before you. Someone will be there after you.

The difference is not what road you take. We all take the same road. The difference is if you keep your eyes on the ground, looking at all the rocks and broken tree limbs that make the travel difficult, or if you have your eyes on the horizon.

The horizon in which the sun sets every single day.

The horizon in which the sun rises again. Every single day.

Encourage one another.

-Juli

A pause, a moment of peace.

I’m still here. I’ve got lots of things to say.

It’s coming soon… A redesigned website

Revamping the family supper time.

Anyone that has a job, a spouse, children, pets, bills, laundry, growing grass, etc…  we know how hard it is to decide what’s going to shake down at dinner (i.e. “supper”) time. We postpone the inevitable until it’s 6:17pm and everyone is starving, so that the only solution is hitting up the pizza place down the street.

I am very familiar with the Johnny’s Pizza less than 2 miles from my house (Fun Fact: It was my first job!).

Eating out, or eating unprepared in any form, can do major damage to not only your waistline, but your checkbook too. We are trying to find the best solution for that, and I think I might have found it.

The best day of the week for me has been Sunday because that is “pizza night”. Every Sunday. Period. We know what we are making every single week, and it is such a nice break to have that already scheduled. I have tried to do weekly menus, but let’s face it, that’s just as hard as planning for the evening each day. I don’t know what to make that far in advance! I don’t know what we are going to be “in the mood” for, either.

Solution – Theme nights.

Yep. That works. I gave each day a category, theme, genre… whatever you want to call it. It gives me an outline to follow, but doesn’t make it strict and set me up for failure. I’m an all-or-nothing kinda gal. If I’m going to have a menu, I’m going to stick with it for the week, or I’m going to mess up one day and crumple the paper the plan is written on in the trash and go out for burgers. Theme night seemed to be a good idea for a little structure, but still have freedom to choose what I’m hankering for.

Here is what I came up with:

Monday – Mexican

Tuesday – Southern

Wednesday – Asian

Thursday – American

Friday – Italian

Saturday – Grill

Sunday – Pizza!

I’m pretty happy with this plan. Today I looked at the clock reading 4:00pm. I had no clue what I was making for supper, but I checked the plan and it said “mexican”. I investigated the pantry and decided I had everything I needed for tacos. Boom! Just like that, I had a plan.

Oh, yeah. But I had to make tortillas. That’s cool – every time I go to the grocery store I pick a package up, look at the ingredient list (too many chemicals!), look at the price (holy cow those are expensive!), and put it back down and tell myself I can make my own. A quick google search for a recipe and I was on my way.

I decided that I wanted my tortillas crunchy for taco salads, so I cut ‘em up and fried ‘em up

YUM! Don’t let the darkness full you, these are done juuuuust right. I actually made them with a white whole wheat flour that I order from King Arthur Flour. Whole grain chips are less guilt-inducing, even if they are fried!

The girls are always a little more receptive to eating new things when they get to participate in the cooking/assembly.

I <3 Taco Salads