What fulfills you?

I did the Stregthsfinder 2.0 (google it, it’s cool!) and found out that my strengths are Empathy, Achiever, Harmony, Communication, Connectedness. I read through the descriptions and yep, that’s me. They have all kinds of suggestions for how to use your strengths in your life. Neato.

But here’s the thing. I kinda-sorta know what I want to do – I want to write. Poems or stories or creative non-fiction. Something in the creative world. So the next question is: Will I be happy if I publish things but never make money?

Obviously (or not), that leads me to question whether I’m motivated by money or not. I’ve gotten some poems published and that makes me feel good – but (as an Achiever) that’s only satisfying for now – and those were smaller journals. I want to publish in larger journals and I guess I want recognition. Not necessarily to be famous, but just for someone “important” to say that I’m an awesome writer.

My professor wrote on my last poem that I have “it”. He said I should publish – that editors would love my stuff. I have to get up the nerve to ask him where I should submit my stuff because a lot of places don’t seem to publish my kind of work.

Oh well, I’m just rambling. And wishing God would speak with a thunderous voice, “Kathy, you should do THIS” with a giant finger sign pointing where I should go. Yeah. I’m not gonna hold my breath on that one. But I am waiting to hear Him – He knows what He wants from me. 🙂

Anorexia

A few years ago Luisel and Eliana Ramos (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Eliana_Ramos http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Luisel_Ramos) – both fashion models – died due to complications from anorexia. Luisel actually died of a heart attack (related to malnutrition)  right after doing a show. I was outraged that someone would have chosen a model who had to have been obviously sick from anorexia to do a show. I thought that the people who hire girls who are literally deathly thin must believe that there’s a fine line between being beautiful and being dead.

I just wrote a poem for my class (if you’d like to read it, I can send it to you, but I don’t want to “publish” it here so that I can submit it elsewhere) about anorexia. Thank God, I never went to the extremes that some women/girls do, but after reading the blog of Isabelle Cora (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isabelle_Caro), I realized how close I’d come. The only difference between me and her is the friends and family that I have to support me. If they weren’t there, I’d probably look like a skeleton, too. (Or worse.)

I think that what “normal” people don’t understand is that these girls (and myself) don’t just want to be thin or look good – they want to look that way so that they can be loved and accepted. They believe that their worth is directly related to a number on a scale or a size of pants.

As sick as it is, when Isabelle Cora died (three years after giving up anorexia and trying to become healthy), pro-anorexia websites (“support” and “encouragement” for those who are/want to be anorexic) thought Isabelle was beautiful as a 59 pound woman. They wrote “Stay Pretty, Die Young” on their blogs as a tribute to her. They were jealous that she was “pretty” when she died.

There are women who can look at an anorexic woman – a skeleton – and be jealous. I have to confess, there are times when I wish I could be that skinny. I know, it doesn’t make sense. It’s not attractive and it’s definitely not healthy. But for some reason my mind is hard-wired to believe that no number on a scale will ever make me feel good about myself. It feels awful to admit that I wish (in my darkest times) that I could “have the willpower” to just stop eating – at least skipping some meals each day so that I’d lose weight. Thanks to my family and my counselor, I know that I don’t need to feel that way. And instead of being always before me, those thoughts are just whispers in my brain now.

I guess that’s the thing to remember too – when you’ve had an eating disorder (and not just the extreme ones) it never really goes away because it’s an addiction. Not like alcohol because that’s physical, but like gambling or something like that. Anyway, the past week has been weird; reading about women like that breaks my heart. All I could think was, “there but for the Grace of God go I…”

MRI forthcoming

Read this (http://www.mommyinthemirror.com/?p=677) if you don’t know what I’m talking about.

So I have been going to a new physical therapist for two weeks now and first, what an awesome place! They are really kind and work only with you (not running from patient to patient) and I feel very comfortable telling them all the things wrong without getting any hints of skepticism like I have elsewhere. (Perhaps it’s because as soon as they touched my trap muscles, they felt knots “as big as tennis balls”…)

We don’t know whether the “locking up” pain is caused by my muscles and ligaments – muscle spasms – or if it’s a new problem that is actually neck-related since it’s been happening so often lately and not just when I have the other “normal” pain I’m used to. So… I talked with my doctor and, even though it will cost money, I think it’s a good idea to get an MRI just to make sure there is nothing else going on.

The bad news is, other than massage and stretching, there’s not a lot I can do for the chronic problems I’ve had. And literally an hour after I leave from a 45 minute massage at therapy, the pain has started up when I play with the kids or make cookies or clean… Doc and I agreed that if the MRI doesn’t show anything (which I really don’t think it will), we’ll just try to figure out how to make the pain more tolerable. I don’t know what else I can do – I guess I feel like filing it under “Things I don’t want to think about” where it has been for most of the last 11 years. Oh, 12 years, I guess.

Anyway, I’m claustrophobic and apparently open MRIs don’t do as good of a job as normal ones, so I’ll be going with a good dose of valium. I hope it helps!!

I’ll keep you posted. And thanks for not asking how I’m doing. 🙂

Valentine’s Day Massacre

I probably shouldn’t use that as the title since there really was such a thing. In fact, it’s good to tell your kids about it if they don’t know. At any rate, I’m not talking about the actual massacre, I’m talking about the massacre of the wallet, the heart, and the brain.

*First, a disclaimer, I actually DO like Valentine’s Day – I have fond memories of getting the cheapo cards from the other kids in my class and trying to figure out if the ones from the boys said anything that indicated more than average interest in me. I’d compare mine with other girls to see if the generic message on the front was more love-oriented rather than just friend-oriented. If mine (and I’m talking the pre-printed part here) said “Be my Valentine” but another girl’s said “You’re a great pal” well, that meant I had to watch them carefully for other signs of interest. There never were any, really. Anyway, Tom and I have had some very nice Valentine’s Days and sometimes exchanged cards and gifts. So this isn’t a rant because of Tom’s lack of gift-giving. (He does just fine, thank you.)

*Disclaimer number 2 – when you get to the end of this, you’ll think I’m miserably depressed and have nothing to be thankful for when, in fact, I’m incredibly blessed and relatively happy today. So no need to leave messages telling me I ought to just think of my blessings. Besides, that wouldn’t go along with my “massacre” theme. Ok, read on.

No, this is a rant because of greeting card companies taking advantage of the fact that most women DO get upset if they don’t get anything from their significant others. If a man doesn’t buy his gal a card on Valentine’s Day, well, that’s just a sin! Tom and I mutually agreed not to give store-bought cards for V-day anymore because the cheapest ones are like $100. Well, $3 anyway. And that used to be the high end of the price range if you can remember the days when we had to send messages to each other by snail mail because there was no e-mail. You know, when cavemen walked the earth. I considered surprising Tom with a cheesy card this year – just to be silly – and I just couldn’t bring myself to spend as much money on a card as I would on a pint of Ben and Jerry’s. So I got him the Ben and Jerry’s. Trust me, we both appreciate the ice cream much more.

It’s also a rant because of a universal issue that every holiday has: It makes some people extremely depressed. And I’m not talking about the women who don’t get gifts from their men. I’m talking about people who don’t have a significant other, or who lost their significant other, or who just broke up with their significant other. I have some friends who are recently divorced (which is a good thing because the relationships were abusive) and today is not a good day for them. Just like Mother’s Day really stinks when your mom has passed away or when you are suffering from infertility. No one seems to take the time to remember the people who are hurting on the holidays. “And why should we?” they think, “They are kill-joys!” Just be thankful if you’re not one of them. And maybe throw out a prayer or two for the people who are sad today.

I’d also like to rant because I feel guilty. I usually make pink pancakes and either make them in heart shapes or use a cookie cutter to cut them out after they are made. Or I make heart-shaped pizza or other fun heart-shaped foods on V-day. I don’t feel like it today. I mean I just don’t feel like it. Nothing like starting a tradition for your kids and then skipping out on it because you’re tired. Sigh.

One last rant and then I’m done: Today’s weather is for the birds. Well, not even for the birds because they’d get blown away or freeze to death or drown in the puddles from the melting ice from the ice storm (two weeks ago) which are currently re-freezing because even though it was 40 this morning, the temperature is dropping now and there’s a wind advisory. Everything looks sloppy and dirty and miserably depressingly gray. Usually, this time of year, I might have one or two brave daffodils trying to poke up through the dirt, but not yet this year. No signs of spring. This is the time of year I really don’t like weather-wise. Everything looks dead right now and I don’t feel like celebrating anything. I just feel like taking a nap. Blah.

Happy Valentine’s Day, everyone.

“…just like people do with the Bible…”

I was having a good day. Well, a reasonably okay day anyway. Then, in class, we were talking about a poem some kid wrote that meant absolutely nothing (he even said so). One of the other students said, “With some poems, you can read anything into them that you want – just like people do with the Bible.”

Her words didn’t make me angry. They broke my heart.

How can I possibly explain that the words in that Book are life to me? That I would die for the words in the Bible? That the only – only – truth in the world come from the Word?

I know that people think Christians are just hypocritical morons who need some kind of crutch – who are wimpy and hate gay people. I know that people think the Bible is a stuffy, boring book of rules and ways to make life less fun.

How can I show them that the words in the Bible have spoken life into my heart when I wanted to die? That I know without even a hint of doubt that God loves me and that His Spirit lives in me? That Jesus’ body was ripped to shreds by a whip, that He was nailed to a cross – his body was held to a cross by nails – and that He died so that we could have freedom?

God doesn’t want us to live under the bondage of a bunch of rules and regulations! He never meant for Christianity to be associated with hard pews and boring, judgmental preachers telling them they will go to hell if they “don’t do this” or if they “do that”.

Would people die for something they could read however they wanted? No. And the sad thing is that she (the student) is right – a lot of “Christians” in this country do read into the Bible whatever they want it to say. They make it say that whatever they do is fine – or that God wants all Christians to be rich and that “non-Christians” will want to be Christians so they can be rich, too.

My heart is broken because of such a flippant statement – not spoken with spite or anger, just spoken as a fact.  How I wish that God’s name and the name of His church (not a denomination, but the whole church) had not been shamed like this. That people could have stuck to the core of what the Bible says – because it’s not something you can just “read whatever you want” into. (I’m guessing that people who say that haven’t actually read it. Or they know people who do twist the words to make it say what they want.)

If I imagine myself as a person who doesn’t believe the way I do, I guess I would be skeptical. I mean, how can a book that men obviously wrote (meaning that men had to have done the physical writing) be inspired by God? And how is it any different from the Quran? Or other religious writings? How do I know that what I believe is any more true than what someone else believes?

To be honest, I don’t know a lot about other religions. The only thing I know with any certainty is that the God of Israel, Elohim, Jehovah-Jirah, Jehovah-Rapha, Yahweh – He is the one true God. I know He sent his Son to die for the sin of the world and that Jesus rose again and is waiting for the time when He will return. How can I say this? I know because I hear Him in my heart, I feel His whispers when I can’t feel anything else. I’d be dead without Him (yeah, I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true) and I would die for Him. I’ll say it again: I’d die for Him.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was with God in the beginning.” John 1:1

a pain in the neck

I’ll spare you the long and gory details, and just tell you that when I was about 18 years old, I started having terrible pain in my neck/shoulder. In the past 12 years, I’ve done physical therapy, chiropractic care, x-rays, cortisone shots, an MRI, nerve tests, massage therapy, and more physical therapy with no real relief.  Last year, I started having chronic headaches (literally every day) and found out that the position I sleep in was causing that. I got a pillow designed for pregnancy and voila! I have not woken up with a headache but one or two times since then. I still get them frequently during the day, but nothing like I was. Yay for some relief!

Sadly, in the past few months, I’ve been “throwing my neck out” – like when people say they threw their back out only it’s my neck. Usually, the pain is just annoying and I just try not to do anything that requires me to turn my head. But sometimes, it’s so bad, I literally can’t move it one way or the other. Last week, I did it again, only this time, there was pain shooting down into my arm and shoulder. It made me cry(which I try not to do when I’m hurting) because even being still wouldn’t make it go away. I ended up going to my doctor and then to statcare because nothing was helping. I got a prescription for Vicodin and happily that helps, but it really makes me loopy and if I don’t take it, it hurts again… Blah.

So my wonderful wonderful doctor (Melanie Mirande, if you’re looking for someone) listened to all my woes and recommended a new physical therapist who I will be going to see later this week. I want to hope that it will work, but I don’t think I can hope anymore – after 12 years of dealing with nearly constant pain – be it slight or severe – with no real relief does that to a person.

It kind of reminds me of infertility actually – how when you first try, you expect that soon you’ll be pregnant. When it doesn’t work for a few months, you get a little nervous but still hope. If you keep trying long enough (years), eventually you’ll want to stop hoping because it just makes it hurt that much worse if you’re still not pregnant at the end of the month. You eventually stop expecting to get pregnant, too.

Sheesh, I am loopy and rambling. I guess what I’m trying to say is that everyone has (or will) dealt with some kind of infertility – maybe not with pregnancy, but with another thing they are waiting for: a husband, a job, a house, a car, healing. So maybe you can’t specifically relate to my condition, but I do think you can understand my frustration.

I’m really interested to see if these new physical therapists can help me out. Since I’m feeling pessimistic, like my sister always says, I won’t be disappointed if it doesn’t help because I’m not expecting it to. On the other hand if it does help, I’ll be surprised and excited. I’ll keep you posted, but don’t bother asking how I’m doing if you see me. I know that sounds rude, but after 12 years of telling people, “Well, no, I’m not better…” it’s kind of discouraging. If I don’t tell you I’m doing better without being asked, just assume I’m not doing better and keep praying for me. 🙂

And now, before I go off on another hydrocodon-induced rant, I shall bid you adieu.

Klingons aren’t just from Star Trek

In fact, I have one living in my house. She wants to spend every waking moment attached to me like she’s made of Velcro. It can be quite endearing, if I don’t want to move at all. Or if I’m cold, she’s quiet snuggly and warm. But other times, like when I’m cooking, peeing, eating – you know those unimportant things – I’d like a bit of space. More than a millimeter, you know?

It’s odd, when my girls were babies, I thought Kaylee was the cuddly one. She loved to be held and Sienna was very independent. I always expected that it would stay that way. Of course, I thought Kaylee looked more like me and Sienna more like Tom – and now it’s the other way around. Sienna is a mini-me and she is also incredibly attached to me. Literally. And really, she’s only obsessed with being close to me – she loves cuddling her daddy and grandparents, but they all can use the restroom without her peeking under the door.

I’m not complaining, really. I know it will be over far too soon; that someday she will not want me to hold her or snuggle for hours at a time. Someday, she will be a teenager (insert “Psycho” music here). It does make me wonder what she’ll be like when she gets older. Not to get too introspective, but I used to be a cuddle bug when I was little, too. I used to chase my sister around the house hoping for a hug. Somewhere along the way, I grew out of that. I think it probably makes my dad and mom kind of sad (especially my dad who is a really cuddly guy still) that I’m not little and snuggly anymore.

So yeah, while it might be nice to sit down without an instant lap companion, I am trying really really really really hard not to wish this time away. Because I’m pretty sure that at some point, I’ll wish I could get it back.

I like me

I know that sounds cheesy. Especially since it isn’t always true. I have definitely noticed a shift in my thinking. I’m so much less obsessed with things than I used to be. I’m getting to the point where I can kind of shut bad thoughts out most of the time. But I’m not just talking about me as a person, I’m talking about my writing style.

You should know I’m taking Poetry I at Kent this semester. When people say the word poetry several different things may come to mind:

1. Coffee houses with some guy playing drums while a poet reads something you’d have to be on drugs to understand.

2. Hippie/save the world/new age people writing from their “souls”.

3. A bunch of words that don’t make sense but that people act like they are the most significant thing they’ve ever read.

4. A way to express your emotions and who cares if anyone gets it? It’s art, they don’t have to.

I will admit, I am not well-read when it comes to poetry. I don’t know many dead poets other than Emily Dickenson (whom I actually like) and other required reading for high school English. As far as current poets, I pretty much know no one – except the ones that my professors are introducing us to. The reason is because I don’t get a lot of what poets write. And I don’t feel like taking the time to “take it apart” and figure it out. I like when I read a novel that’s entertaining, but has lots of underlying symbolism and meaning that if you don’t see, you won’t be missing out. With poems, there are times when I feel like I’m just wasting my time because I don’t want to work to figure things out.

On the other hand, if I can figure it out – if there’s a clear meaning – then I may not mind spending some time digging in to find the amazing truth hidden in the words. That’s why I like Dickenson. Some of her stuff is way out there, but some of it is really cool when you figure out what she’s saying.

So here I am, wondering what kind of writer I want to be. I used to think fiction, but honestly, fiction scares me a little. I always like writing stories, but currently, I’m not sure if what I write is good enough to let others read? Anyway, the fiction classes weren’t offered at a good time of day for me to take them, so I took Poetry this time.

At the end of my last general creative writing course, I discovered that I really really really enjoy writing satire. I like witty plays on words and being overly sarcastic to make a point. The problem I am finding is that I’m not sure where writing like that fits in the world. I’m not necessarily interested in writing political satire since I don’t pay attention to politics enough to make any kind of statement.

So back to Poetry. I was delighted to read some of my current teacher’s poems because they are exactly like my style. He uses straightforward sentences (no “pink ponies eating rotten eggs” or some other gobbledeegoop like that) and humor and sarcasm. You might have to re-read his stuff to fully appreciate it, but it’s not hard to read.

What a relief for me! I’m excited that I don’t have to find the dark places of my soul to write about (I do enough of that here). I am afraid of writing serious poems, but I will try at least once this semester. Otherwise, I am excited that I get to be myself in my poetry. I like that I don’t have to try to emulate someone else. What a happy happy day!

And now, I know I’ve bored you. But you don’t mind. You know that soon, I’ll write something wonderful and engaging again and you won’t have to pretend you were interested. 🙂