Really, life?

I know, I know, I know. Things could be a lot worse. A lot. I get it. But kidney stones SUCK.

I was diagnosed as having kidney stones during an ER visit in the wee hours of Thursday morning last week. Apparently, there is only one left and it's around 4mm in diameter. So here it is over a week later and I'm still trying to pass this darn thing. Since it's only (only) 4mm, the docs can't do anything and it should pass within two week. Great. So at this point I have to be hemorrhaging or have a raging kidney infection to get any additional help beyond painkillers and advice to drink tons of water. OK. Great. So my life is on hold until this tiny ball of calcified pee plaque passes.

Helpful ER tip: if you go between the hours of 3 and 4 AM, there is no wait and the sense of humor of the staff is great. They even had me laughing through the pain. It could have been the Dilaudid they gave me, but I did appreciate smiling faces and the more relaxed atmosphere.

I was planning on going to aqua aerobics this morning. I love this class at my gym. I'm the only one there under 55 and I love it. Senior citizens are so great to be around - I love their energy. I think they get a kick out of me being there, too. Everyone is going to have to wait for me to grace them with my presence because I can't stand up straight.

I also promised Payton a trip to the beach today. Sorry, baby boy. It's Avatar and Frosty the Snowman for you. Hopefully I can spoil the crap out of him this weekend. At least that's the goal.

The nature of things

The last few days have been a cluster of great successes, feats of strength, hearing difficult truths and in-my-face tests of my year of PTSD counseling. I would have to say that my therapist would be so very proud of me. Maybe I should give her a call. I have to say that I am giving myself a whole-hearted pat on the back for not losing my resolve or falling back into that dark place that I was dragging about with me for the better part of a decade. I am stunned that I am able to look back to those days without emotion. If I feel anything, it is sorrow. Not for myself - I cannot change the past and only look upon it as a source of lessons in moral character - but for others who have yet to witness the full wrath of what I experienced. If anything, the past week has proven to me that I am strong enough to take a stand for what is right and that I will be OK. Maybe scratched up a little bit, but for the most part come out on the back end a better person for it and thereby stronger as a final result after the wounds heal.

Several nights ago, I met with someone who needed me to tell her the truth. She had a list of questions and wanted brutally honest answers. I gave them to her. Not to be malicious or hateful to the person we were speaking of - I really and truly have no energy for that anymore - but to paint a very vivid picture of what the sad reality of the situation is. We talked at length over Niçoise salads and Merlot about the fact that the question of "why" cannot be answered, that we can only move forward and make ourselves whole again. There was a great desire on both our parts for the person in question to get help and to get that help quickly. However, the issue remains that the pride and ego that is present will not allow him to do so. It was concluded that he is embarrassed and ashamed of who he is down somewhere deep in the recesses of what he experienced as a child and that he feels the need to paint some sort of surreal picture of who he thinks he should be. It makes us both so incredibly sad as we both see that the potential in this person is immeasurable. Truly it is. He just refuses to see it and actually live it. Over the years, it has gotten covered with a very thin facade that is now crumbling about his shoulders.

What I had to say was very hard for her to hear, but it confirmed her suspicions of what she had thought all along. The most difficult thing for me wasn't talking about the past, it was watching her experience the same things I had. I could read it all over her face. No words needed to be spoken.

She is such a beautiful woman. So opposite from me in the physical, yet I know that if the circumstances were different, we would have been great friends. She is a strong, opinionated, athletic, savvy, smart, sharp and witty woman. She is successful, financially responsible and can wield the iron fist if necessary. The thing I like best about her is that she is brutally honest and is not afraid to call a spade a spade. She has the desire to know the truth and heaven help you if she finds out you are lying.

It has taken me the better part of a week to pull this post together. Since I have started it, I have been through another cycle of my black cloud moods. I had some time alone and was able to process everything that has occurred and work myself into a lather over it all. Yesterday I had a much needed chat with my amazing husband and we worked through the knotted up emotions that were clogging up my brain. A few tears, a small pity-party, a plan for action on my part to help relieve some of my anxiety and three wonderful hours walking the seaside cured most of the crud. I feel pretty much back to normal today.

I am a strong believer that everything happens because we need it to and that there is a lesson to learn so that we might be able to grow and thrive in our lives. I am seeing very clearly that I have made the right choices and that in and of itself is amazingly comforting.

The new project

So that legendary bird sat on my shoulder a few months back and whispered, hey lady, you have quite a story to tell. Why yes, I do, says I to my fluttering avian friend. Recent events have prompted me to look into the publishing world and I found that not only is it very difficult to get a book published, the subject matter on which I was planning to focus on is a very tough sell to all the various publishing houses. I thought I would try anyway and quickly discovered that my brain does not function in such a linear fashion. What was pouring out of my pen and onto my crisp and crunchy new notebook was cathartic, but would there be interest in the way I was telling it? Maybe, maybe not. Not to be self-depreciating and if I was really really telling myself the truth, probably not. I don't have an English degree, or pure journalism experience, or a sharp pen with which to capture everything in such a succinct way that it would be a smooth read from start to finish.

So I thought, well then, how the heck will I be able to do this? To put everything down in words that form stories with injections of images and other inspirational thoughts can be rather fractal. I also tend to lean to the randomness of my world and to organize myself to the degree required to write a novel just ain't gonna happen. No way, no how. Not for all the hippos in the world, though my four year old gem of a child will be very disappointed, to say the least.

OK.

And there it was, looking me square in the face. Not only do I keep a quasi blog of sorts, but I read about four "mommy blogs" and three other thought collection blogs every single day. Duh. I very much enjoy the candid nature of them and I like the way that they can make you feel like you are in that person's living room with them through the power of wit and word. Every morning, I get all kinds of excited to open up my web browser to see what new and wonderful stories I can absorb about my favorite persons on the Internet. Hey!!! I can have one of those, too!

Eventually, this blog will move to it's own website. And wow! Lookie there! I have the great and wonderful privilege of being recently married to the most amazing computer dork in the world. He builds amazing websites for people for a JOB. Wow. JACKPOT! (Thank you baby doll and love of my life, even though you have no idea what you are getting into yet.) And I have nothing but time on my hands to bombard my little spot on the web with all my ramblings and musings.

The story I have to tell will be revealed in juicy little nuggets as I am reminded of them and have the need to share. It's one of pain and death - of others and of mine, of re-building and new growth, of healing and happiness, of food and inspirations and most importantly the love I have for those I choose to surround myself including my kick-ass husband, children and most importantly, the new-found respect I have for myself. I have been through many months of painful therapy and have come out on the other side with the ability to look back without all the black thunder clouds of emotion that were plaguing me for the better part of a decade. If I am able to help just one person by writing down my experiences and solutions, then my work will be even that much more complete. Just one person to say - oh my, I thought I was the only one going through this and holy crap you survived and I can do it too. That would mean the absolute world to me. Hippos and all.

Thanks, little bird.