Cheaters

While making the hour long trek back from Dayton Saturday, my husband I had a long discussion about the Ashley Madison website hack. No, neither of us can be found on the website. But it's worth the time for us to discuss. 

Until it hit the news, neither of us had heard of this website. That's a plus for our marriage. We were both amazed by the amount of information could be found after the hack and how brazen some people had been. Using work email and time to cheat on their spouses. We weren't judging, just surprised. 

We were also heartbroken for all the people who now have relationships to mend. Even if the site membership never led to an affair, there is still a brokenness which must be dealt with by the couple. 

There was an equal surprise that there have been lawsuits filed against the website. We understand if the sole purpose is regarding the personal information now available for the world to see. But, if it's because they were caught, then that's frivolous. 

I've tried to write about this subject before and have mentioned it in passing. Infidelity is something that plagued us early in our marriage. So, we both have ample ability to speak on this and know it's not about judgement. In fact, I share in all honesty knowing it can bring judgement on us. 

There's a lot I can't tell you and much that won't seem in context. But, I'll be as transparent as I can. 

My husband didn't cheat. To my knowledge, he's never even had a huge problem with lust. However, he has fallen into the throes of women who were looking to prey on his genuine care and kindness. He's a bit naive. He never saw flirtations for what they were. 

Me, however, I was the cheater. I won't romanticize it nor will I make excuses for it. But, I ask that you do two things. Understand as best you can the extenuating circumstances and believe me when I say that I am NOT a cheater now. 

First of all, I was not a Christian. It was 16 years ago. I had no moral compass. All I had was 23 years of watching how my parents dealt with their marriage and problems. They were cheaters. I was still being emotionally and physically abused by my dad. Unless you've been down that road, you can't possibly understand how that warps your needs and desires, as well as your ability to cope. And there's a lot to deal with in the beginning of the marriage. I also believed my marriage was of no value. I sought ways to drive my husband away because I believed he would leave anyway. I also believed I was unworthy and incapable of being loved. 

Again, those aren't excuses. But me cheating wasn't about lust or love. It was purely based on dysfunctional, sinful living in a time of life when nothing was stable. 

I admitted my mistake to my husband. He was crushed and I offered him an out. He stayed. He stayed and loved me even more. I won't say he automatically forgave me. He didn't. That took years. Trust took even longer. 

My life and our marriage changed long before we started going to church, but going to church was the start of having a guide for our marriage. I changed long before becoming a Christian, but becoming a Christian began building that moral compass. 

Neither of us would tell you that I'm a cheater. We'd both tell you that cheating and lust are not a part of our marriage and not a sin with struggle with. We are both confident in our commitment to each other. We would both tell you that was another life ago. 

My husband could have left. He had ample reason and biblical grounds for divorce. I know, even though we weren't in church at the time, it was God working on his heart. I know God had a plan for us to stay together through it. 

A couple months ago, our preacher touched on something that was like a dagger to my heart. I had a moment of true repentance. Not that I'd never before, but a moment that allowed me to put it completely in the past. In tears on the way to lunch, I told my husband how sorry I was for hurting him all those years ago. 

He let me know he had long since forgiven me. But, I needed him to know how truly heartbroken I was over the pain I had caused him. It was the first time I'd ever really known he'd forgiven me and that it was completely in the past. 

As I sat with the Ashley Madison hack list in front of me this weekend, I thought about searching for names of family and friends. I didn't. I don't need to know. Knowing would only give me opportunity to judge. I don't want that. Each person has their own demons. Each person has a responsibility to repent to two people, God and their spouse. I have no part of that and neither does anyone else. 

Cheating isn't just a problem for men. Plenty of women struggle with it. 

Having been down this road, I'd like to offer some sound advice. Avoid your natural instinct to be angry and judge people you know. It's a sin problem and no different than the sins we all struggle with. If you know a cheating spouse or someone who's been cheated on, don't assume their needs to be a divorce. God's plan may not include divorce but a stronger relationship. God can and will use this for His glory. 

Be compassionate for both and I know that's hard. Judgement isn't going to help. God loves sinners and is near to the broken-hearted. Show them the overwhelming love of Christ and point them back to God in the darkest of days. 

We made it through without God's people, but I know not without Him. 

My husband would tell you the same things. He would also tell you that my mistake has made him a better husband and proven to him that he can love me through the better and the worse that we pledged on our wedding day. 

I'm not thankful for my mistakes, but I'm thankful for the ways I've grown through them. 

Not Wasted

This week has been long and tiring. That's good and bad. A deficit of sleep has finally caught up with me. Things that have happened have continued to pile on my shoulders. Things have poked at my anxieties and emotions.

There's no denying, the past six weeks have been good. They've put me on a high mentally, emotionally and physically. A high that allowed me to ignore the times when my body and mind were crying out and trying to get me to see that I was being falsely confident in my own abilities.

We need times like that. We need times that are good and help us move past tougher times. But that doesn't mean we can forget what we've just walked through or out of.

I've had great results from exercise and diet. The results push me to keep going. But, I can't always do that. I have irritated old injuries and ignored my sheer inability to tolerate allergens. I've stayed busy in ways like I used to when I held a full time job and went all the time. The truth is, I can't do that. I can't go from couch potato six weeks ago to going like a teenager now.

It's a process. A process that I must respect in order to not overwhelm my body and mind.

The physical activity has given me an excuse to ignore the mental and emotional parts of life. When it hit me this week that I've been doing just that, there was a huge message the Lord laid on my heart.

I can't ignore and leave the trials alone. I can't pretend they aren't or haven't been there. Obviously, there is a high probability those trials will resurface if I'm just ignoring them.

The bigger problem is that tossing them aside like dirty laundry is wasting them. Of course it's easier and less painful to turn your back on them as if they were just a blip in life. Don't get me wrong, they may have been. But if I toss them aside, I'm wasting the trial.

It's taken years for me to fully grasp this. A trial is wasted when we do not allow it to grow us. Trials should change us. If it changes us in no other way, it should at least drive is closer to the Lord. But they can grow us in so many ways.

Trials can humble us, teach us grace or patience. They can shine a spotlight on relationships we should value and even those we should let go. They can guide us to make life changing decisions or changes. Trials can teach us dependence or imdependence. They will break us and show us all that we cannot do alone.

Ignoring the trial is completely turning out back on the opportunity to grow and change.

I've done that plenty this past year. I've complained and whined. It's been hard. I've chosen the easy way to react. I've also allowed so many of the trials to change me.

It took seeing someone else not use a trial as an opportunity to grow for me to see I often do the same.

Here's the giant neon flashing sign that has been sitting in front of me since then....Hey don't waste the trials. Allow them to change you. Use them. Use what you've learned to love others.

Sometimes it's hard to put into words something so big and so personal that's been laid on my heart. It's even harder to listen, do and allow the Lord work when it's so much easier to ignore.

Skeeter

That's a random name for a beautiful, happy Sunday afternoon. Honestly, it's a random thought that keeps coming back to me.

Facebook creates this alternate universe where my little brother and I are friends even though there is no contact. We know what is happening in each other's lives to the extent that we are willing to share with the world.

However, I have no fake or real contact with my other brother. In fact, most people don't even know I have a second brother or another niece and nephew. I think maybe I forget sometimes too.

I do. He's the middle child and 16 months younger than me. Thanks to a few weird dreams and seeing a few men who resemble him, he's been on my mind this week.

Skeeter is his nickname. He's had it since we were kids. Even my brothers kids know him as uncle Skeeter.

He's a complete stranger to me now and probably always has been. I know 18 years of his story, but can't possibly fathom how it has altered his life.

The last time I saw him was somewhere around nine years ago. We weren't close even before my departure from the family.

He was married to a woman for several years and left her probably 10-11 years ago. He viciously lied about his ex, claiming she was a lesbian. It wasn't until years later that we learned he cheated and left his wife for a woman my moms age. To my knowledge, he is still with her.

If I came into contact with my parents today, they wouldn't be strangers. No amount of time or distance will ever erase the vivid memories I have of them. It would never change exactly what I know of them.

But my brother.... I can't even wrap my head around having a brother out there that I don't know.

Dreams and reminders of him make me sad.

There's a good reason we don't have a relationship. We cannot. We are toxic together. I know what 18+ years of abuse made him and therefore cannot be near him. One of the last times I saw him, he left me with a black eye, busted lip and concussion. That alone is reason enough to never be near him.

Given what my little brother has shared, it is safe to say that a reconciliation will never be possible for us. It's another long term effect of growing up in a living hell. That orphan feeling runs deep.

Most days, weeks and months go by without thinking about him. But that hole, that sadness always resides just below the surface. It's deep and wide. I can't even describe it. I hide it as it comes and wish away the longing for family.

These, these are the ripple effects of surviving abusive parents.

Six Weeks Ago

A few minutes ago, I made two trips down my driveway and back. My driveway is a little under a tenth of a mile long. No big deal right?

I have this deal with our puppy. If he goes to potty when it's time to go get the mail, he gets to go. By go, I mean I carry him. He likes it and I don't trust him off a leash. Today, there was no mail, but I had two trash cans to walk back to the house. So, him in one arm, I made two trips to get the trash cans. He was in heaven.

Six weeks ago, I would be out of breath by the time I got to the end of the drive and nearly hyperventilating by the time I got back to the house.

I was seriously out of shape. I still am. But not that bad.

On my last trip to the house, I thought about all that has changed for me in the last six weeks.

Six weeks ago, I sat and longed for a time when we could be back in KC. I hated life here. I was miserable with my life in general and I felt terrible about myself.

I did that walk today without breaking a sweat or even raising my heart rate. I was breathing easy. Such a huge change.

Even though I'm in disbelief because my clothes don't feel that much looser, I've lost a whopping 24 lbs. I don't think I look any different. My belly isn't shrinking fast and neither are my cheeks. Those are two things that happen when I do crash fad diets or get sick.

Thankfully I started measuring myself or I would have never believed the scale. Here are my totals so far:
Hips -2.5"
Waist -5"
Chest -5"
Shoulder -7"
Thigh -2.5"
Arm -2.5"

That makes the number on the scale make so much more sense to me. I am losing weight in healthy ways and it's coming off all parts of my body. I know I've said that before, but I can't help but remind myself. I'm doing it the right way. My pants aren't going to fall off me at 24 lbs cause I'm not just losing weight in one place.

Size is such a small prt of it for me though. I am amazed at how
Much more I do and want to do.

Six weeks ago, I was doing good to get 1200 steps per day. Maybe a busy, grocery shopping day might get me 2300 or just over a mile.

For a month, I have walked at least five days a week. I get in 3/4 to 1.5 miles before 6:30 most mornings with my husband. I've started walking or getting some exercise in the evenings too. I hit 10,000 steps or more at least 3 days a week and am working on getting more. I've even had a couple two mile walks this past week.

I did try some exercising inside one day. I ended up throwing my back out and might rethink what I'm doing there. However, I did sit-ups and push-ups. I'm still beside myself that I can do any of that. Not since freshman year of high school have I done any of that.

The absolute best part of all of this is I'm not miserable. I'm enjoying life here. I've had some deep conversation. I'm making relationships. Friendships that will hopefully last for years to come.

The best side benefit is that my husband is on board now. He's walking five days a week and losing weight. He started walking for his back and it's helping. But now he pops up out of bed and goes without me if I'm sleeping. He has shirts that he hasn't worn in a couple years that he's digging out of the dresser to wear. I love that and love him. He even says his attitude is better at work. Yay!

I hope the next month is as productive as this one. It would be awesome to write a post at the end of September and have similar results.

FHMCC

First Heavy Metal Church of Christ

That's where we worshipped yesterday. It is exactly as the name implies. If you're thinking it might have been way out of my comfort zone, it was. Yet, it had an amazing impact on my heart.

We had decided to take a couple weeks off from our church and serving to do a few things. This Sunday just happened to be wide open when a friend asked if we wanted to check out this church in Dayton. They aren't members and only attend on occasion. It's about a 75 minute drive. Not close at all.

My friend gave me a list of warnings, but nothing prepared me for what I saw and only the Lord could have prepared my heart.

As we pulled up to the mid 1900s school house, the first thing I spotted was a parking lot full of card just like ours. Modest, family cars and in nice condition. In my mind, that fit for what we are used to at church.

I may have said this before, but all of our current and previous churches are at varying levels of "come as you are." But, we do and have worshipped with people of our common social status. It's just the way it's worked out. We are used to a parking lot of nice vehicles and well groomed people. That's our comfort zone.

The next thing I saw was a Hearst. It was painted with flames and had a pew as the front seat. It had writing on it, but I couldn't really get past what it was. Walking to the door, there were groups of fairly rough looking people all smoking. That definitely wasn't the warmest welcoming. This is a good time to point out that we aren't the kind of people this church caters to and that's really ok.

Inside, it was as you'd expect from an old schoolhouse. Dingy, dark, hot and stale. The musty, ashtray, gym sick smell assaults your nose as you walk in the door. Here's where things got real. While my senses were on high alert, I didn't fail to see how each person who passed us or said hello carried a gigantic smile. It took me only seconds to see how excited these people were to be there to worship.

Before I go any further, I think it's important to explain my reference to these people and why we didn't quite fit. Even in our jean shorts and tshirts, we stood out and so did our friends. Not that anyone made us feel like that.

As the old gym filled with people, I couldn't help but do some good old fashioned people watching. I've never seen such a diverse group of people. All different colors, sizes and ages filled the seats.

There were girls and guys with blue, purple, pink and flaming red hair. Older men and young with beards of varying length and even down to their waist. There were girls ripped shirts and bellies hanging out. Older ladies dressed in all black. There were men in chaps and covered in chains and biker attire. Tattoos were abundant. About 90 percent were dressed in black or FHMCC shirts. We saw about every type of piercing you can imagine.

Speaking of tattoos, we saw several gang and satanic tats. A different art for a past life, obviously. We saw a couple people wearing shirts indicating heroin was their current or past demon.

It's not with judgement that I look at these people as different, but you can see how we might have felt out of place. That was actually a very good thing in the end.

The band came out and I mean real band. The lead singer looked like an older version of Hulk Hogan and the bassist looked and acted like a ZZ Top member. They sang original hard rock/heavy metal songs about God and Jeaus riding a motorcycle and did it very loudly. Not exactly our usual "Be Thou My Vision" kind of Sunday.

However, this was the point I began to feel conviction and love for this church. As the music blared, these people were on their feet, hands in the air and enthusiastically worshipping their God. My God.

If I'd seen these people standing outside an abandoned schoolhouse before yesterday, I'd have thought they were about to be part of a biker rally or even some kind of cult worship. I'd never have believed I was looking at a group of Christians or seekers. Shame on me!

Likewise, I'd never see most of these people in any of the churches where I've been. In those moments, my heart crumbled. These people were worshipping my God with more love and enthusiasm than I've ever had. Despite what they looked like, they were no different than me. A sinner saved by grace.

When the band finished, the pastor came out to Ozzy intro music and armed with a giant squirt gun. Yes, he shot the crowd with it. He was your average tatted biker looking guy with a mic.

I'm so used to well prepared preachers and sermons that get read off an iPad and have multiple overhead screens. Not here. Admittedly, he didn't have the message until that morning. It was typed on a few sheets of paper. It also didn't all flow together perfectly. He literally included random things that were on his heart.

The sermon. Wow! So much of it spoke to my heart. I loved how he prefaced so much of what he said with the idea that there may only be one person in the room who needed to hear the message. Yes! I know at least one who needed it.

One of his points was about church. There is no perfect church, which we know. But we tend to get restless or discontent and want to move on to the next church that will eventually lose that new car smell. Yes!!! It's one of the things that led us there that day. Not that we are or were searching for a new church. We aren't. But we are restless and bored and struggling in some areas.

He was standing right beside us when he quite pointedly said, you need to put down roots. God doesn't want us church hopping. He wants us engaged and involved. He wants us making relationship. Gosh, that spoke to my heart and touched on what I want. I have to be a part of that and get content.

As he went on, he talked about using our gifts. He said God gave us our gifts. If we aren't using them to serve Him, then we are wasting them. I know this. But again, it was a poignant message with perfect timing.

Another point he made was that God wants us exactly how we are. We don't have to quit our addictions. We don't have to give up our idols. He just wants us to come to Him. If we do that, He will begin to work in those areas. He will show his love and mercy as He changes the lives of addicts or the hearts of those bound to idols. He will get the glory. I've known that, but never heard it put so perfectly.

At the end, he closed with a time of unison prayer to commit or reconnect to Christ. He said any pastor not sharing an alter call or invitation isn't doing their job. That was an interesting perspective since some of our churches have stopped doing that.

Before the final prayer, there was a time when about eight people stood in the front and took time to pray with those wanting it.

It was a unique experience to say the least.

It's not a church we will frequent and we may never attend again. Not that we are against it, it's far away.

Here's the thing though, I left feeling extremely thankful for that church. That church is in a rough part of Dayton. It ministers to a people group right here in the U.S. that is largely unreached. They go to places where other churches might serve once a year. They love a community of addicts, metal heads, partiers, cults and doubters.

It's not that our churches don't or aren't prepared. Honestly, most the people in our churches wouldn't know where to start with some of these people. These are the kind of people who, before coming to Christ, would have spit on your tract or ripped you a new one for sharing Christ. Most of these people wouldn't have lasted past one service in our churches. No fault on either side. This church just meets a unique need. They meet people where they are when where they are is darker than what we typically see in our churches.

Even though it's not a place for us permanently, I'm thankful for the experience. I'm grateful for all that the Lord laid on my heart. Sometimes a new and different perspective is exactly what you need to remind you of what you have already.

Anxiety vs Trusting God

It's Saturday morning, a rare Saturday morning. My husband is taking a conceal and carry class. It's just me and the pups and they are sleeping.

There's nothing going on, but I'm sitting here anxious. I don't have big worries. Last year at this time, we had a KC house that wouldn't sell and I was sick and my husbands meds were jacked up. I had plenty to agonize over then.

We don't have any of that stress right now. I feel better physically than I have in years. And yet, I stress over that. I'm prone to anxiety, it's me and how I live. Anxiety takes over when people would turn to other addictions.

There are moments when I can think logically. I'm getting more exercise than ever. I'm more active and watching my diet closer than ever before. I'm working to get off the only two medications I take. My muscles, body and heart should naturally be getting stronger. Things like cholesterol, blood pressure and insulin levels should be coming down or within normal ranges because of the lifestyle changes.

Since I'm moving and exercising more than ever, it makes sense that my body is going to ache and hurt in different places. Sore shoulders, back and ribs have more to do with trying to do push-ups and sit-ups than poor posture or overeating.

I know these things. But, I still let them nag at me. I'll let a little gas or headache drive me to WebMD until I find the surely you will die diagnosis. I've shared before, but my entire life has set me up to always expect the next bad thing. I've never really allowed myself or lived life to expect anything good or plan too far ahead.

My life really isn't that rattled any more. But, you don't suddenly set aside what you've known to be true for 35+ years of your life.

This week I have been tired and had a lot of neck, shoulder and upper chest stiffness and pain. My mind has gone to all those places where nothing good happens. It's a natural response for me. It was a year ago that I slept all the time.

I've only had one day that I slept much over 6 hours. I need a full 8 to really feel good. I've done things like workout and rake the yard. I've spent hours with my head tilted toward the sky looking at meteors. Yes, all of those things make sense.

As a Christian, I know I should rejoice at the idea of going to be with Jesus. And I do. But Christians, do you ever think about how scary it would be to leave your spouse or kids or family? I think that fear is exactly what keeps me locked in anxiety and unable to trust God in these moments and days.

I'd say the same is true with travel anxiety and financial worries. The fear is greater than my trust in the Lord.

Maybe my prayers should be less "Lord please...." and more, "Lord, teach me to trust in You!"

Lord Jesus Come

Those were the lyrics of the last song that played. Some days, it's my prayer. My cry. Today is one of them. This post isn't about Jesus' coming, but it is in a way.

In heaven, it won't matter what I look like or how fat I am. It won't be a struggle for health and constant balancing of what's good and what makes me happy. There won't be judgement amongst the people over what I do or don't do.

Over the past ten days, I've gotten my husband on board with walking. He's starting to be more health conscious. Knowing how to lovingly push him in ways that don't make him feel bullied is a battle. He loves sleep and is the one who hits the snooze seven times before getting up.

In addition to encouraging him, I've had to find the strength to continue the exercising. Unless you've been extremely overweight, you'd probably never understand. It's a challenge physically to get up and go. My ankles, legs and feet hurt. I've got residual hip and foot problems. I know walking will help some of those problems and worsen others. Long term, all of the problems should improve. My back is going to hurt. I'm going to struggle to breathe and often get dizzy or get a headache. It's never easy. Not one day.

Last week, I wrote about how discouraging fat shaming was. This week, satan has decided to attack us both in other ways.

Two of the past four times walking on my road, I've had the same lady smack me in the arm with her mirror. Seriously! Do you get what I'm saying? I don't want to over dramatize it, it was only the mirror and I had only minor bruising and soreness. But, I don't want to minimize it either. A grown woman hit me with her car twice and drove off.

You should know how I walk. I walk on one side or the other and not in the middle of the road. If I see or hear a car coming, I get as far off the road as I can and will stop until the car passes. We start walking about 6:10-6:15 and it is not pitch dark. I can't speak for my husband, but I'd say he probably gets over too.

In the last two days, I've felt under attack for walking in the mornings. There have been multiple people outspoken against us and what we are doing. I don't want to even go into details.

Here's what I will say:

People here absolutely do not get that pedestrians have the right of way. I can't believe what I've seen and been told. It's assanine! Look at state pedestrian laws. Ultimately, drivers have a responsibility to the person on the road unless clearly marked that pedestrians are prohibited.

I cannot believe how completely discouraging people are. One attack was very personal and was more about me being too fat and that the road isn't wide enough for me and a car. I'm tough, but that hurt. I obviously don't want to be so fat or I wouldn't be out walking.

Here is probably the hardest observation for both of us. We aren't doing anything others haven't or don't do. We have lots of walkers and joggers on our road at all times of the day. The difference? We aren't one of them. We haven't always lived here and always walked on the road.

I hate to bring that up, but it's true. We have found that in so many instances, we cannot make the right decision. We have been looked down on or told we shouldn't do or say things that we observe others doing. We abide by the unwritten rules and get told we are cold and standoffish. There's no winning with about 95% of the population. We are outsiders. We are going to be wrong even if we act and look like a local. Keep in mind, there are a handful of people who don't treat us that way.

There's a lady at church who snubs me weekly. She comes over, stands right over me and shakes the hand of the lady sitting next to me. I've tried to shake her hand, only to have her push mine out of the way.

When that happens at church, it's easy to believe people driving on our road would treat us the same. It's sad, but it's reality for us.

Since we've decided to stay, it something we have to cope with. It shouldn't be, but it is. People who can't make eye contact with us, won't shake our hands and hit us with their cars. I'm not angry and it doesn't change how I feel about this community. My God is bigger and has given me a heart for this area. But it doesn't mean I'm not sad. It doesn't mean that I'm not discouraged.

Healthcare

There is no way that I can do this post without sounding negative. However, that's not the purpose. The purpose is to remind me always of the differences right here in the U.S.  It might serve as an opportunity for you to see a different perspective.

Healthcare is easily the thing I took for granted the most before we moved. In 16 years, I had 4 primary care doctors. The first, I left because he was terrible and our insurance changed giving me more options. The second two were in the same office. They both left for other positions. However, I was with them for over 10 years total. The last few years in KC, I switched to a young lady at St. Luke's and she was great.

Over the years, we both saw a handful of specialists. Dermatologist. Gynecologist/fertility. Surgeon. Orthodontist. ENT. And others. We never had to drive far. In fact, we only had a 30 minute drive to one. If we needed an ER, we had a 5 minute drive to one of the best in the city.

We had first class, top-notch care. The offices and hospitals were clean and sanitary. It was exactly what you would expect. The only complaint was an occasional longer than average wait. Even that was not super common.

I don't want anyone to think it was perfect. There were a few bumps in the road. There were some annoyances. We always knew that if one doctor didn't suit our needs, we had a long list within five miles to chose from.

We joke sometimes that we moved to a third world country. My KC friends would agree, I'm positive of it.

Last summer, we learned very quick that healthcare was not equal to what we left. After a full day of calls, I found nobody locally who took our insurance and had any openings within three months. My husband finally found a sympathetic receptionist who listened to his story about moving and need for med refills. He got an appointment within a month.

During that time, I also began searching for a gynocologists because I knew I had a problem. Nobody had any openings within six months for me. In August, I had my first ER visit.

I know I've written about this before, but as a reminder....  We were treated like scum of the earth in the ER. There was no care, compassion or privacy. They failed to do a pregnancy test. They sent me home knowing my hemoglobin was low and nothing for pain, let alone all the other problems. They were more concerned about my BP than anything. They did get me in with a gyno three days later.

That gyno didn't speak English well and was fresh off her residency. She too failed to do a pregnancy test and gave me the most painful biopsy of my life. She ordered no bloodwork and was also most concerned about my BP. Of course my BP was high, I felt like death.

The next month, I finally got a referral from my chiropractor of all people to a better gyno. He got me right in and did surgery. He also saved my life! He is an excellent doctor. However, after dealing with his office staff now for a year, I can tell you his quality of service isn't seen in the staff. They have been awful! They are incompetent and only care about filling his schedule. The entire office has a huge communication problem. I am once again in search of another gyno.

In the meantime, we had other medical issues.

My husband had to go to one specialist after another. None around here have taken new clients any sooner than two months. When we drove 90 minutes for the big problems, we got right in. His arm doctor was absolutely the only comparable office, care and doctor to our KC choices. Beacon Orthopededics was awesome! His back doctor works out of an old, smelly, dirty office in Cincinnati. He's a good doctor, but his staff obviously hate their jobs.

I had two more visits to ERs. One more at the local hospital, where I got two warfarin shots in the belly and sent home with a probable blood clot in my leg. The other time was about 30 minutes away when I was puking and doubled over in pain. Those idiots hooked me up to an IV with pain meds and then wanted me to walk all over the hospital for tests and scans. Right!!!

Since I was having issues, I did call and set up an appointment with a local doctor. New patient, two month wait. Two days before my appointment, I got a call that the doctor had left the practice. Ok. Schedule with a different doctor. Two months wait. Day before appointment, I get a call that the doctor left the practice. No more doctors in that practice who take our insurance. One of the only offices locally who take our insurance and new patients is my husbands doctor.

Ok! My issues have resolved, so it wasn't urgent. However, it's time for an annual physical. As of August 1st, my husbands doctor no longer takes our insurance.

We will have at least 45 minutes to find a new doctor now.

I spent a year on the wait list for the only psychologist who takes our insurance. Kent has been on the wait list 15 months, but mine was a bit more urgent. The day I went in for paperwork, they announced that only provider was no longer going to be in their office and there were no providers for our insurance.

We are on our second dentist since moving and are in search of our second optometrist.

Besides our chiropractor, there has been NO office or hospital who has billed my insurance correctly. We've paid multiple copays us on Kent because of incompetence in billing staff.

I've noticed that if I complain, the locals get a bit offensive. I understand. I probably would to if I'd lived here forever. I get it.

But let me be clear, the people here do not get the care they deserve. The people here deserve the kind of care and options we had in KC. They deserve to have compassionate staff and doctors who care.

I hate that the healthcare system is so broken here. It seems great to some people here because it's the best they've ever had. But they could and should have better.

I LOVE my community. If I could bring one thing here to give to this community, it would be a better healthcare system.

Again, I know this sounds so negative. I know there are exceptions to everything I've shared. I know a couple nurses who are amazing and I'm sure there are others. They do their best with what they've got to work with.

But, and it's a big BUT, there's no equality been here and KC. There's really no comparisons between here and where we grew up either. Even where we grew up has higher quality care and facilities.

It's not likely to change with the current administration.

State Fair

As I said before, we do want to embrace our new home and area. We are explorers by nature, so we enjoy checking out the obscure and the things considered family favorites. Yesterday, we headed to the Ohio State Fair.

It had been 26 years since I went to my first and only state fair in Minnesota. I don't remember much except the food and Viking ships. It was Minnesota after all. My husband had never been to a state fair. We had only been to the county fair back home together.

When we lived in KC, county fairs weren't popular like they are here. Here, they close schools down for the county fair week. Crazy, I know! The Missouri State Fair was a family tradition for some friends, but not anything we ever made the 45 minute drive for.

With a few things we had going on, the last day of the fair was the only one that worked with our schedule. And it was packed!!!!

We got there as it opened. It's about 90 minutes away, which is really nothing since almost everything is an hour away. It was about 75 degrees and pleasant. However, I forgot sunscreen.

Once you step in the gate, three things were clear. One, we had a multitude of choices for lunch. Two, this state loves John Deere. Three, the one thing they love more the JD is the OSU Buckeyes. The state has 2 professional football and baseball teams, a professional hockey and basketball teams and many semi pro teams. They even have some excellent universities who do well in sports. But nobody is as universally loved as the Buckeyes.

Just to be clear, except the Bengals, we haven't given up our favored teams and embraced the local ones.

We walked through a couple buildings with fair entries in crafts and food. We also walked through the Marketplace filled with blood sucking salesmen. Seriously though, Direct TV is the worst! We only went in one animal barn and that was enough. It smelled so bad! Maybe had it been cooler and earlier in the fair, we'd have spent more time looking at the animals.

Looking at all the cakes, breads, candies and cookies got us good and ready for lunch. We chose a BBQ vendor. Big surprise! He had ribs, I had chicken. I was strategic. It was easier to justify dessert with a healthier lunch. Believe me, I'd rather have eaten the tenderloin the size of my head. So, grilled chicken it was.

After lunch, we hit the dairy barn. There was the giant butter display. I'd seen a cow carved out of butter, but this was far more. It was a cow, calf, two football helmets and Brutus the Buckeye mascot. Quite impressive! It was rednecky and made us feel at home.

We made the giant loop through the fair and decided to go home after about four hours. On the way to the gate, a dessert stop was necessary. The supplements we take have eliminated sugar cravings, but we still enjoy an occasional dessert.

So, a funnel cake was a must. We didn't pick just a plain cake. Oh no! We had a cake topped with hot chocolate, marshmallow cream and graham cracker crumbles. Smores on a funnel cake. It was ooey gooey sticky goodness. Truthfully, it made me sick and was totally worth it.

We walked off some of those calories with the 1/2 mile walk to the car.

Let me tell you what happened.

It was 88 degrees when we left. We spent 4 hours in the sun. I had drank only 1 small bottle of water. Bad news for me!

I was extremely dehydrated and sunburnt. I'm fair skinned, pale and the sun is not my friend. I also dehydrate easily. My face was hot, my body was cold. I was dizzy and a little delirious. I had waves of nausea rolling over me and I was certain I was going to spew funnel cake everywhere. I downed another bottle of water, but it took a while to get hydrated.

We stopped at SAMs for some shopping and I was a mess. I barely remember most of the store, but was coherent enough to pull my mental list out. I do remember my husband asking why I was so goofy and telling him I didn't feel good. The sun doesn't effect him the same way.

We were back in the car before I started feeling a little bit better and more like myself.

Once we were home, I stayed on the couch all night except to eat dinner. I also slept 9 hours last night and feel a little puny today. Thankfully, only my face is still red and no terrible burns. It sucks to have that reaction to heat and sun. It's happened since I was a kid and only doesn't happen when I stay well hydrated and use sunscreen. Evidently it's a form of sun poisoning.

Since we are planning to stay, I think the fair is a fun, family tradition for us. It was worth it. Next time, sunscreen and lots of water.

Fat Shaming

Today at the store, a younger girl walked passed me with a couple friends. The girl was overweight with tight shirt and shorts. Her belly was hanging out of her shirt. She was covered in tats and her face covered in piercings.

I had on a modest tshirts that went to my hips and a pair of capris. I always dress conservative. I rarely wear earrings in my only two piercings. My only tattoo is always covered. My hair is probably the least conservative part of me and it's not outlandish.

As she walked by, she belted out "look at that ugly oinker."

Damn the stabilized hormones and emotions. That stuff used to not bother me. Now I have these things called feelings and stuff like that hurts. Prior to a few years ago, I'd flipped her the bird, called her a loser whore and went on. I didn't. I walked on by as the entire bunch laughed and the girl made pig noises.

This girl obviously has issues. She was no Barbie.

I was so sad. Not sad for me as much as the next person she decides to treat that way. It'll happen. I'm not special. I was just available.

What that girl and everyone else who makes a surface judgement about me based on how I lol or my size is that I'm trying. I'm trying harder than ever before.

I'm barely a month into this journey. And it is a journey. Nobody really knows about the journey. A couple gals I walk with and my husband. They are the only ones who actively encourage me because they are active parts of this journey.

It's a hard road. I don't want to get up and walk in the mornings. I don't want to count every calorie. I don't want to eat healthy or find ways to be active. But I do want to be healthier. This journey is about being a healthier me.

There have been times when I've felt so encouraged to keep going and there have been times when I've been so discouraged that I wanted to quit.

People who fat shame others do not make the problem better. It's not encouraging. It brings down even the strongest person who's working their hardest to change their life.

I wanted to drag her ass off to the side and show her the changes I've made in the last month. The changes I've made are paying off.

I am down 16 lbs, 2" in my hips, 4" in the waist, 3.5" in the chest, 3" around the back and shoulders, 1" in my arms and 2" off the thighs. I can tell I'm gaining muscle in the arms and thighs.

There's not one lb or inch that has been easy or come without work and dedication. I've walked with foot pain and leg cramps. I've chosen veggies over chips and popcorn over ice cream.

When the girl chose to belittle me, I had to remind myself that I've been there before. I've been made fun of thousands of times. It would be a lie to say I've not been made fun of the past month. It happens. I think it hurts a little more when I'm trying so hard.

I'm not doing this so people won't be mean to me. I'm doing this so I can breathe easier walking up stairs and so I can enjoy a long walk on the beach and have more options when shopping for clothes and not have to spend the rest of my life on medications because my weight causes health problems.

Year 17

Last Saturday, we celebrated our 17th anniversary. This one, while not special in number, was the sweetest one of all.

After the past two years, I feel like we worked harder to get to this one. I also feel like we love each other better than ever before.

I don't have to enumerate the reasons why the past two years have been hard. I can't honestly say that either of us ever considered leaving. However, we were exasperated at times and wondered how it would ever work out. Things were so unstable and uncertain that the future was scary. We both feared what the next bad thing would do to our relationship.

We didn't have the easiest start. Our wedding and honeymoon were a disaster. We were so different. He had been a single guy living a bachelor life for well over ten years. To say we had a lot of adapting to do was an understatement.

I'll just get completely honest. My husband had no clue what he had gotten himself into. I was a mess. I had debt. I had severe mood swings we didn't understand. I was angry. I didn't like him, but didn't want to leave. At least not most of the time. Ok. I wanted to leave all the time.

It's hard to admit, but I was abusive to him both physically and verbally. I had a rage that would come over me and I would spin out of control. I had no understanding or even memory of my actions most of the time. I left him many times. Most times it was late at night and I would take off barefoot down the road spewing hate and obscenities at him.

His family hates me and I hated them. My family hated me and loved him and I hated him for that. I lied and cheated. I manipulated until I got my way, only to hate him after. I trashed him to anyone who would listen and accused him of all the terrible things I was doing.

This wasn't just the average rough start to a marriage. There was a whole lot going on with me that we didn't know and didn't understand. We didn't know I had PTSD. We didn't know about a long list of other issues and problems.

Think my husband is a saint? Me too!

This man! Let me tell you about him and I'll do it through tears. It's painful to know and absolutely amazing grace.

He never left. Never even considered it. As I yelled that I hated him and wanted a divorce, he'd repeat how much he loved me through sobbing and crying. As I lost control and took swings at him, he wrapped me up as tight as he could and held me until I calmed down. He hunted for hours when I threatened suicide and hid from him.

The list goes on. Before you hate me, please keep in mind that there was a lot more to the story that we wouldn't understand until much later in our marriage.

By no means was he perfect. He held onto a lot of anger toward me for a lot of years over my actions. He let his unforgiveness ruin a lot of the good times. He let his hardened heart keep him from seeing a desire in me to change or have a better life. He allowed his family to interfere and have input where it wasn't helpful.

To the best of his ability, he loved me through it. I've asked him over the past few years why. His answer is always the same. He took a vow in front of God to love me for better or worse. Last night, we had a similar discussion. We both agreed that nobody would have known how to correctly love someone who believed and wanted to be unlovable. He eventually had a mountain of information to take in and assimilate. I think even he admits now that the deck was stacked against him and he did the best he could at the time. We both agree that a lesser man would have given up long before.

At five years, I began to love him. At ten years, I started to understand what that love meant. Now, I'm completely in love with him. I love him beyond what I can describe. There are no words. He is a part of me. No, I don't always like him but I always love him.

It's been a long road. A lot longer than I can write here. I never thought I'd say this, but it's a love story. It's an awesome story of how God can work in lives even before they become committed to Him. It's a story of suffering and perseverance. It's painful and beautiful. It's a story of grace and mercy.

Of course I regret that it took so long to love him the way I do now. But without the suffering in the journey, I'm not sure I would love so deeply or have such an appreciation for him.

I'll end with this:

As a senior, my speech teacher said that real love is unexplainable. If you say you love someone and can list the reasons, then you're in love with the reasons. If you truly love someone, you'll not have any reasons and there will be no words.

I have no list of reasons and no words. I love this man because I do.

Mom Dream

Most days, I don't think about my mom. I try not to. It never ends well. Ever!

But sometimes, I can't keep from it. It would be easier if my mom were deceased. Then I'd never have to wonder if she thinks of me, misses me or anything else. My heart longs for that day. It'll be a definitive moment of transition in my life.

Don't get me wrong. For the sake of my nieces and nephews, I don't want that moment to come sooner than Gods plan. I am not ready for them to feel the pain of losing a grandparent. Two of them have already experienced the loss of a young aunt and uncle.

There is no hope of reconciliation with my mom and I've accepted that. It's not something I pray for nor long for.

However, my heart still deeply longs for a mother. I can't shut that off, even though I try.

I woke up at 4 am after what seemed like a long dream.

My dad was gone and my mom was working at the local Walmart. I know, crazy. I didn't recognize her as we stood in her check out line. After I paid, she run around the counter and hugged me. She told me to go pick out whatever I wanted from the store and bring it back so she could pay. I insisted that wasn't needed, but she said she had a lot of years to make up for missing.

First of all, my mom wouldn't have hugged me. Ever! She's not an affectionate person. I've been told that even as a baby, she showed no affection with me. No hugs. No kisses. It's part of the reason it took me so long to be ok with hugs and affection. It's also the reason I struggle to initiate affection.

Second, it touched on my love language. My love language is gifts. I've written about that before. There's so good reasons for it. However, my mom doesn't know what my love language is and likely doesn't know what a love language is.

My mom operates in a sad, dark place where buying things for someone is buying their love and the only way to keep them around. Even though my love language is gifts, I know the gift is not the ultimate sign of love. I cannot be bought, but she can. It's also a sick game that her and my dad played. It was the I'm going to beat the crap out of you and then buy you something nice. It makes my skin crawl.

Third, my mom isn't that generous. She's selfish and self consumed. She's more likely to spend her last $20 on cigarettes and lottery tickets than buy milk for her grandchild. It's painful for her to give up a penny to anyone and she knows little about sacrifice.

The dream definitely touched on those things that hurt. It's hard during this time of year. It's hard during holidays and birthdays.

My relationship with my parents was severed eight years ago today. But the loss came long before that. In all my 40 years, I've never had any semblance of a mother.

While the dream wasn't awful, it wasn't real either.

Zoo Trip

We spent half our anniversary day walking through the Columbus zoo. It was a good time, because we made it so.

I've had a couple people ask me how the zoo compares to the KC zoo or others we've been to. Around here, Columbus seems to be the preferred zoo between it and Cincinnati.

It was ok. The layout was fine and it was clean. It had a couple problems. The biggest is that the staff fed the animals at 9 am on Saturday. So, we were there for an hour before we started seeing animals. It was hot and naturally, the animals were all hiding out in the shade. Maybe during cooler times of the year, it would be better. I'm not complaining, it was nice enough.

There was a huge difference between the KC zoo and Columbus. The number of animals. Nearly every zoo I've ever been to has more animals. To be fair, we did not walk through the Australian section. We also avoided all aviary areas. Other than that, we covered the entire zoo. The number of animals seemed extremely low.

This is probably my only criticism of the zoo. I love Jack Hannah. I think this zoo might put a little too much into promoting him than utilizing space for animals. Just personal opinion.

We both agreed that the Omaha zoo is by far the best we've been to. I can't think of an animal that isn't on display there in multiples. They have adequate space for the animals and its overall an awesome zoo. The aquarium in Omaha is phenomenal compared to all other zoo aquariums.

Going to the zoo, meant we walked nearly 6 miles Saturday. I still hurt. Keep in mind, a few weeks ago I couldn't have gone that far. However, I did and did it on four hours of sleep. I finally feel rested, but have minor injuries on both feet. I've aggravated a previous injury and have a pulled muscle in the other.

I'm ready to go again. Maybe to the Cincinnati zoo. It was fun to go and have energy and be out.

Maybe this fall, we will head up to the zoo again.

Come As You Are

Have you ever heard that about church? Come as you are! Broken and bruised. Rips and tears. Come as you are.

That is how Jesus wants us to come to him. He doesn't want us prideful or pompous. He wants as we truly are. Scarred. Battered. Broken. Hurt. Angry. Emotionally. Physically. He wants us to come to him as real as we are.

Nothing else matters. Jesus already knows. We can put on a smile and pretty clothes. To the person sitting beside us, that might cover up all the mess. We can look good to everyone else, but Jesus still knows.

I have three primary churches where I've spent my Christian life. Two were very similar and one is different in many ways.

In my first two churches, I never felt it experienced that come as you are mentality. I'm not really talking about the emotional either. I'm very specifically thinking through the physical.

At both churches, most people wore their "Sunday best" to church. Women wore dresses and men wore at least business casual attire. In both churches, those serving communion often wore suit and tie.

Before I go further let me clarify. I don't think it's wrong. It seems appropriate to offer God your best. Can we honor God by dressing in our best?

Maybe.

But is it the most important thing? Is it really how he wants to be honored?

The reason it's such a big deal is because it's been a fight between my husband and I. He likes to be comfy. He will wear sweats to bible study and would to church if I didn't throw a fit.

Honestly, it wasn't that I wanted him to dress different to honor God. I wanted him to fit in and not stand out. I didn't want him to come as he is.

So here we are, sitting in rural Ohio. Our church here is completely different.

If you walked into our church today, you'd find a menagerie of people and dress. Some of the older ladies are dressed in skirts and dresses. But that's not the norm. There are no suits. The pastor is in jeans. Men serving communion are in tshirts and shorts and flip flops.

You'll find a lot of that. Tshirts. Shorts. You'd probably even find a couple stained shirts and ripped shorts. You'd find jeans and messy hair.

Please don't think I'm putting down or judging these people. I'm one of them.

This church truly gets the physical part of come as you are. The guy in the Harley shirt is absolutely equal to the older man in a tie. The young girl with her belly hanging out is treated no differently than the one in a nice dress.

As much as I love so many at both of my first two churches, I have to be honest. There would not be an equality there for these people. Their surface appearance would set them apart. I've seen it. It's painful, but I've seen it.

I've seen two godly people run off from a church because they weren't accepted. It's not that they were theologically different. It was because they ride bikes to church and chaps into the service. Sad but true. Nobody really got to know them. By actions, they were shunned. Nobody welcomed them.

Friends, that's not the way Jesus is and it's not how the church is supposed to be.

Has it been different for us and even an area where we had to adapt? Sure has!

The emotional come as you are is an even bigger animal to tackle. There's room for growth in every church for that. However, I have to give kudos to the church I'm in now. They are closer to getting this right than any we've seen.

I'm not at all bashing the churches we've come from. They are different and in different areas. There's no perfect church and each church is always growing and changing. Some churches are changing in bad ways so they can be redeemed.

The point is, it doesn't matter what we wear. Jesus still wants us to come to him. We don't need to be dressed up or perfect. He already knows what's under it all.

Tough Road

This is the third good week in a row. I've felt encouraged and like I belong. It's not been without anxiety. I'm still waiting for something bad to happen. But I genuinely feel good physically and emotionally.

I've consistently gotten up at 5:30 am and walked. I've increased my distance a little at a time. I've added in extra exercise during the day. I've diligently watched what I've eaten and stayed mindful of fat and calories. My clothes are fitting better and I had a 12 lb weight loss the first two weeks.

But, I screwed up. I thought I'd move my weigh in and measurement day to Friday. I'd eaten and been on my feet for hours cleaning. It was afternoon and not early morning.

I was so discouraged by what I found. I sat and cried. I've worked so hard and the scale hadn't moved and my measurements were up an inch in one area and the same in another. Even though everything was different, I thought something would have changed. I've never put in a week like this one.

Obviously, I know that it's not going to be easy. The weight isn't going to melt off. I know that 12 lbs in two weeks is probably a huge jump start, but it'll slow down.

Even though I'm discouraged, I'm not giving up. I'm determined. I'm not going to bury myself in a cupcake or ice cream. I also know this is our anniversary weekend and I'm going to eat. I'm not going to skip celebrating.

So onto next week I go. A little down, but not out.

Two Weeks

Two weeks ago I started to get serious about this health thing. One thing is certain, it's hard! 

My goal is to exercise five days a week. I did so so my first week and totally exceeded that my second. Primarily, I'm walking at 6 am. Getting up at 5:30 am is getting easier, but I never really want to. When I don't get up that early, I have been diligent to get some exercise in that is equivalent. Today it was raining, so I hit the stationary bike. Over the weekend, I found myself wanting to exercise. By Sunday, my lower back and hip hurt. I did twist my hip out, but I know my body was telling me it needed exercise. 

I have a daily goal of staying under 1490 calories. That's not a lot! But given all the numbers, that's what it'll take to lose 2 lbs a week and stay at a healthy pace. When I exercise, I get calories added back in and is a definite motivator to meet me exercise goals. So far, I've only had one day when I surpassed my calories. Most days, I fall 60-200 below. Last week, I had one day when my app let me know I needed to eat more because I was 700 calories under my goal. 

My super sweet husband is reaping the benefits of a healthier lifestyle for me. He gets fed healthier. He is on some of the same supplements I am and seeing progress. He's getting a little more exercise with my encouragement. To help with the process, he ordered me a Fitbit. We have Bowflex bands. They count steps and calories. However, I wanted something that tracked more. This Fitbit will do that and track sleep. The app will allow me to add calorie info too. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I'm excited for it to come. 

I do feel better already. I'm not as tired all the time. I still have some fatigue because of my sleep patterns. Although, I'm starting to have more nights where I get 5 hours of decent sleep in a row. I also get a good 90 minute nap in after my exercise each day. That helps give me the extra rest I need to make it through the day. It'll be better if I can get 7-8 hours straight each night. It's what I need to not have periods of dragging during the afternoon. 

I am more active. I am getting more stuff done around the house each day. Not that our house is ever dirty really. But I have more energy to do things like deep clean more often. I also don't run out of breath walking to the mailbox. I walked the long drive twice in the rain with no problems. 

Of course I am tracking all the stats too. They are a motivator and an indicator. In 2 weeks, I've lost 12 lbs. Here are the rest for two weeks:

Hips -1"

Waist -2.5"

Chest -1.5"

Shoulders -3"

Thigh -1"

Arm -2"

I'm happy with that. My hips and waist are the hardest places for me to lose inches. I can also tell that I'm building muscle in my legs. 

I'm definitely shaped different today, than I was 17 years ago. However, I weigh 8 lbs less today than I did at our wedding 17 years ago. Since our anniversary isn't until Saturday, I'm hoping that'll be at least 10. 

Even with the progress, it's still hard. I'm not craving sweets, but my natural default is to bake brownies and snack all day long. There are times I still snack. Sometimes it's healthy and other times not. But I'm more aware of how unhealthy choices alter how I can eat for the day. 

Hopefully I can give another update in two weeks with even more progress. 

A Flaw in My Worship

This week has been good. I've continued my baby steps to a healthier me. I've felt encouraged and loved. I was invited to a girls night. Not to get all weird, but I was giddy!

I've stayed busy. I started the week dead tired and almost worried something was wrong. Remember, I get anxious waiting for the next bad thing to happen when things are good. But after that, I got energy back and have been busy.

Yesterday, I baked my second batch of 20+ dozen cookies for church. While I was baking away, I had The Message playing on Dish, a Sirius music channel. I sang along and worshipped as I baked.

About six pans in, I realized there was a definite flaw in how I've been feeling. Don't get me wrong, being content and happy is a good place to be. It's ok. It's meaningful and right to praise God when things are going well.

But here's the flaw. I've been happier with God the past two weeks, because I've been happier with people. As I've struggled the past year to develop relationships and haven't felt like I belong, I've had a hard time praising God.

My love of God, my worship, shouldn't be affected by my personal relationships.

In fact, I should have praised Him all along for always being there when I felt alone. It's great that it's so easy to praise and worship right now, but it always needs to be that way.

I know, it's a classic lesson in praising God in the good and bad. However, it's good and healthy for me to recognize how I correlate how I feel about people and relationships to how I feel about God. It helps me understand why it's easy to skip church when I'm unhappy or lonely. Why my bible gathers dust when loneliness brings depression. It gives me an opportunity to change what I hold onto next time this happens.

Happy Sunday

Ok, so it's not completely happy. All the things I've said before are still present. Sunday's are still hard days when the sadness peaks.

However, I have to acknowledge that this week was a better week. Several things have been different.

This is the first week in a long time that I've felt like I could stay here several years and be happy. That's a huge change and while it might be a fleeting thought, I'm happy to hang onto it for now.

This week, I found encouragement and friendship within a small, but oh so valuable and precious group of ladies.

There has been sunshine. I saw the sunrise and the sun was out more than not. We had some nasty storms, but they went away.

I spent time serving the church and the community. That's so important to me and gave me purpose. It was incredible to feel included in something.

Through social media, I've been reminded of how much better I feel this year. Last year at this time, I was in sweats and napping everyday with layers of blankets on 80 degree days. I'm happy that 85 degrees feels miserable to me this year.

While not gone, I've finally had multiple days in a row without major pain and spasms in my face, leftover from the BP.

My husband is feeling better. He believes his back is now 60-70% better. It's such a weight off our shoulders to have him starting to feel better.

I know there are people who pray for me. But this week, I have no doubt that there were people praying for me. A completely different week doesn't just happen without it. I'm thankful.

This is the first week in a long time that I'm looking forward to the week ahead. It's not that it's filled with plans. I have none. But I'm hopeful that some of the positivity from last week will carry over.

Healthy Belly

Inadvertently, I started this journey into a healthier me a few months ago. It wasn't really planned, but a necessity.

Two years ago, I finally started to get serious about taking care of my stomach problems. I had chronic issues. I had severe heart burn, cramping after eating and terrible pain. My dairy intolerance worsened to the point of having to go dairy free. Dairy had started to do more than cause gas and bloating. It sent me to the floor writhing in pain, followed by days to weeks of trying to get my digestive system back on track and even joint pain.

I went to the doctor. They ordered tests and put me on meds. The tests found nothing. The meds weren't enough. So, the doctor increased meds. She had me on a combo of three daily double (prescription) doses of Pepcid and Nexium. Even with that, if I missed doses, I was miserable.

The meds helped the heartburn, but the stomach issues and pain continued.

Late last year, my stomach issues again peaked and sent me to the emergency room. I couldn't keep a lot down and specific foods sent me to the floor in pain. I had a textbook case of having a bad gallbladder. Again, I had every scan and ultrasound possible. The best they could tell me was that I had possibly passed gallstones, but they were no showing as stuck in any bile duct or liver.

The major pain and vomiting subsided, but the stomach pain didn't.

I'd tried probiotics on suggestion from friends. There were so many, I went through one brand and kind after another and nothing seemed to work.

A few months ago, I saw one of my Ohio friends fb post about a probiotic. She listed some of the things I had experienced. She had IBS, which was one of the things the doctors had suggested. Since they weren't sure, they suggested that, ulcer or possibly diverticulitis. At any rate, there were no answers, but the pain made me desperate.

When my friend posted, I researched the product. It was part of a product line sold in up lines. To simplify what I'm saying, it looked to be a typical pyramid scheme. While the product looked good, I was skeptical of the sales method. Leery to say the least. I'm not a product pusher and those things would never work for me. I stay clear.

With hesitation, I bought the product. After a month, I could tell that my digestive system was changing. Still lots of pain, gas and bloating, but other things were better.

I was patient and stayed on the probiotic. Here I am at thee months continuous use and I feel like a new person. Ok, maybe just a person with a new stomach.

For starters, I am now on only one single dose, OTC heartburn med. I try to take it daily, but don't have a problem with heartburn unless I go 3-4 days without it. That's huge!

I definitely have far fewer problems with gas and bloating. Probably the biggest change is pain. I can go weeks without stomach cramps or pain. When I do get pain, it's minimal and doesn't last. I can usually associate it with something I've eaten or lack of fruits and veggies.

There are times I can tolerate tiny bits of dairy. I'm not jumping back into that, but it's good to know my tolerance is better.

I know. It probably seems like this is a small thing, just like walking a half mile. But it too is huge. When you don't feel good, you aren't motivated to do anything or take care of yourself. This too is a step in the right direction.

Baby Steps

Today, I started a new baby step in this journey to be healthier. I got up at 5:30, drive 15 minutes and walked a half mile.

To most, that probably sounds like no big deal. Nothing to be excited about. But it is for me.

You know what I'm usually doing at 5:30 am? I'm getting ready to go back to sleep because I've been awake since 3 am. I stay awake until my husband wakes up, talk to him a few minutes and go back to sleep till 8:30.

Getting up by alarm taps into some of my anxiety. It's not terrible, but I don't sleep well. I'm awake every 30 minutes, fearful I'm going to oversleep. Then when I am trying to go back to sleep, the amount of time I have left to sleep is on my mind. A routine would help that.

It takes me all of five minutes to get ready when there's no shower, no make up and only a ponytail involved. Not that it takes me long to get ready anyway.

In the past several years, I've only been on the roads before sunrise a couple of times that weren't for travel. There's a lot of life going on at 5:45 am. There were runners, walkers, deer and other wildlife meandering about.

Besides a few words with my husband in the morning, I don't usually talk to anyone until 5 pm. It was completely different to talk to other people before the sun came up. Not just talk, but be encouraged. The ladies were there for the same reason as me, but they had such a huge part in starting my day off completely different. Positive and encouraging.

I didn't walk that far. It was .62 miles to be exact. I'm happy with that. I have to start somewhere. Not to make excuses, but I had two things working against me. One is a broken toe. It happened a month ago, but is still swollen and gets painful. The other is that I'm completely out of shape. Before I got sick last year, I was walking up to two miles a day. Once I recovered, it was winter and I went straight into Bells Palsy, which brought on periods of terrible vertigo. I'm thankful to be on the other side of most of that.

I'm hoping to double my distance tomorrow and continue to make increases.

Of course I feel like a nap is going to be necessary. Not because of the little walk, but because I barely slept 4 hours. But this day has been good. It started well and I feel good about that.