Conundrum

Alright, disease update—that sounds fun, doesn’t it? Funny, I’ve shied away from talking about my disease for so long; shied away from referring to it as a disease, even. It used to be sort-of a side note in my life but unfortunately, right now it seems like a defining aspect.

Anyway, I’ve felt like crap for a while now and by a while, I mean ten months. For reals.  Turns out that Valley Fever on top of MS will kick your tushy.  And the not feeling well has just gone on and on and I’ve been grappling with the question of, what if this is just the new normal?  And I’ve had some MRIs done and I saw five different doctors in January, trying to answer that question.

I received good news and bad news.  The good news is that the Valley Fever is finally improving. The bad news is that the MRIs showed three new lesions.  And my neurologist wants to switch my medication. And I’m scared. And I’m pissed. And that’s why I’m writing. 

I really don’t want to tell any of you about any of this but I do want to figure out where God is in it all and if I can, that’s what I want to share.

So, I’m scared because the two choices of medicines that my doctor proposed look, on paper, like nightmares. Risky. Terrifyingly so.  And rather than switch, I want to bargain with God. Make a deal that if I just live a better life, maybe he could heal me.  I just was teaching the kids about what a conundrum is the other day: a problem that has no satisfying solution; this appears to be a good example.

And I’m pissed.  Pretty much at everybody.  I’m angry with my friends for not understanding—though I haven’t shared much about it.  I’m angry at my mom for not knowing what a lesion is eight years after diagnosis—even though I don’t fully understand the disease. I’m angry with myself for not taking better care of myself on a regular basis; at my body for betraying me.  And at God? I don’t know.  I did whisper-scream at him, in the bathtub, through sobs, the other day that I didn’t like Him. And then I spent the rest of the weekend asking forgiveness even though I knew He already had given it.

I really don’t think I’m mad that I have this disease. I think I’m mad because it requires that I trust Him.  And He scares me and I do feel angry when I think of a friend who lost a child and when I think about Job or Abraham and Isaac, which were all the things I was accusing Him of in the privacy of my bathroom, through tears.  Because I know there are no guarantees here.  No promises of an easy life—in fact, there’s a guarantee of the opposite.  A surety that we will suffer in this life.  And I kind of don’t want to suffer.  But more than that, I don’t want my suffering to affect others.  That’s the thing.  I have these children. I have this husband.  I have plans on how my mothering and wifehood should look and it does not include a disease.

But what if I don’t like God but I love Him?  And somehow, right now, that’s enough?  I need it to be.  The pastor went through Romans 8 today and He said everything I needed to hear.  And he brought up Abraham and Isaac and he proposed something I’d never considered.  What if God asked Abraham to sacrifice his son to prove to Abraham how much he loved God.  I’ve always thought it was God wanting to prove to Himself in this sort-of narcissistic way how much Abraham loved him but actually, God already knew.

So what if, in my life, God isn’t throwing this stuff at me to see if I’ll love Him through it but to show me that I will.  I can’t say I understand that concept completely but I do find it comforting and worth meditating on as I continue this journey. Things change.  I’m not in control. So I might as well get out of the way and trust.

Overcome

It's been a while since I've blogged.  A while since I've thought about blogging.  Several years ago, I blogged daily.  And then I tried to continue but I just couldn't. Sporadically, I added a few entries over the course of a few years but so much had changed--I couldn't get back in that space.

I was a different person then.  Married to a different man.  I had two less children. That blog, then, brought me so much healing.  It became a meditative place for me; a place of searching; a place where I felt close to God. I read those entries now and I almost envy aspects of my old self.  I can appreciate and even admire my own intense pursuit of God there, if that makes any sense.

In some ways, I feel as though I had a purer heart, more innocence. A divorce will straight wreck you.  I couldn't write much about it and I still feel like I can't.  Because I don't quite have the words. It's been four years and still, I can't entirely wrap my head around it. That blog was so much about married life and children and trying and searching and God.

Today, I'm married again.  I have two new children.  I'm still trying; I'm still searching and God is constant.  But I couldn't just pick up where I left off.  I've been so altered. Too much is still unprocessed; there are too many blanks--even for me--in my own story.

But I've missed that dedicated time with God; that longing, the comfort I found in writing in that capacity.  And the why of why now I'm starting a new blog is simply, that I guess it's just been on my heart.  It's terrible timing, actually, with the busyness of the holidays.  Too, I'm working on a novel I started writing in November that I feel rather committed to, there are the six children I homeschool which occupies most of every day and most all of my thoughts and there's the chronic illness which makes for bad timing with nearly everything in life.

So, I have multiple sclerosis.  I want to add something upbeat and cliche like 'but multiple sclerosis doesn't have me! Smiley face' but that would be bull sh*%.  Historically, I haven't shared much about my disease because it's kind of a downer and I don't want to seem like I'm looking for pity. But lately, well, it's been harder to ignore, I suppose.  Too, I've been thinking about how I need to read the words of others who suffer in a similar manner.  Somehow, it helps. So, I guess if I can do anything with this, I can share it as my story and what it looks like so others with chronic illnesses might not feel alone.  I can give a face to it.

My best defense for years was a good offense--there, I squeezed my cliche (I know how to spell cliche but I don't know how to add the accent :) )in--meaning, I did a lot of pretending.  I ignored it whenever I could.  I piled more and more on my plate in defiance to prove to myself that it was no big deal. But that's not as easy anymore.  Besides, I don't know that I was fooling anyone.

Last May, I was diagnosed with Valley Fever which is a b*%t#@  Blah, blah, blah.  Still have it.  Isn't helping a damn thing.  So, here I am, six months later, confessing my illnesses, I guess.  I want to tell you that it's still all good and it is in many ways.  I can walk and talk and swallow.  Just not as well or as easily. MS is a progressive disease.  It takes things slowly--at least it does from me.  It plays the long game.  I don't want to be cynical.  I pray I never have another symptom crop up in my life.  I try and practice positivity.  But I also need to work on authenticity.  With  myself.  Honoring my own truth.  And my own truth right now is that I feel like where other people have periods or days of sicknesses, I have periods or days or even only hours of wellness.  I feel like mostly I've learned to live sick.  And that's a bum deal.  And it pisses me off.  But...

And here's the crux of the new writing; the return to a place such as this: but...I have God.  I love God.  He chose this weakness or weaknesses for me for a reason and always, always it could be worse.  This disease brings me to prayer and that alone fills me with gratitude.  I am overcome.   This disease has at times overcome me, rendering me helpless, knocking me out, winning. But I turn to God and somehow, someway He speaks to me and I am overcome by His goodness and His compassionate love.

So overcome that I want to share it.