Loving

A month ago, I attended a wedding that Lavender was officiating. Imagine two doctors getting married in a Chicago Downtown art museum and all the pretty and beautiful things that means.

I didn’t know the brides. I did not know anyone there. I was just the minister’s wife. My job was to smile, eat, and drink. I would not be emotional at this wedding ceremony. I had no reason.

It was a beautiful ceremony. Lavender did a great job. The brides were both gorgeous. They said heartfelt words to each other. Friends, family, and their teenage son surrounded them. I didn’t cry.

I mean I almost didn’t cry. At the end of the ceremony, Lavender said, “by the power invested in me by the state of Illinois, I pronounce you wed for life.” I cried.

Lavender and I had been talking about making our marriage legal for legal reasons. When we had a ceremony 5 years ago, it was not legal in Illinois where we married or in Indiana where we were living. It was upsetting that we were not going to be granted the same legal protection and rights as others but we made the best of it with legal documentation like powers of attorney and me changing my last name through the courts. I didn’t imagine at that time that we would be living in a world where we would have a chance to see our marriage ‘legal.’ (It’s kinda funny to think about your marriage being illegal.)

Anyway, when we were talking about making it legal, I thought about it as it just being paperwork. No biggie. We had the ceremony, it was the wedding of our dreams. We both agreed that we would do something. Maybe get a bite to eat after filling out the paperwork. Just to mark the occasion.

Then I was at this wedding hearing those words that could not be said at our wedding. I cried knowing all the sacrifices other couples made to make this happen. The couples that couldn’t be with each other ‘during sickness’ because they weren’t legally married. The families split up because a spouse died and children were not allowed to live with only other parent they knew. I thought about last year when Lavender had a medical scare and I realized that I would not be able to use the Family Medical Leave Act to help her in any worse case scenarios.

I thought about Mildred Loving who was arrested for marrying a white man and living in Virginia. They won their court case Loving v. Virginia. She and her husband paved the way for discrimination laws against marriage.

“I believe all Americans, no matter their race, no matter their sex, no matter their sexual orientation, should have that same freedom to marry... I am still not a political person, but I am proud that Richard's and my name is on a court case that can help reinforce the love, the commitment, the fairness and the family that so many people, black or white, young or old, gay or straight, seek in life. I support the freedom to marry for all. That's what Loving, and loving, are all about.” –Mildred Loving

Making it legal will not change my marriage, my love, or what my family means to me. It will give certain rights that straight white couples have always enjoyed.

I can’t wait for out “Making it Legal, Hangover Edition”celebration January 1, 2015! I promise to cry when Erin says those magic words. I also promise to thank all those who fought so hard to make this day happen!

mY CrAzy hEaLtH and Amazing Support Sytem

This year I have had some scary health problems. I am okay. It turns out that most of my problems relate to deficiencies in vitamin D and B12. According to doctors, dangerously low and life threatening levels. I know it sounds crazy that these two vitamins can cause so many problems but look it up, it is crazy. The lack of B12 caused strange sensations, numbness, & tingling in my hands, legs, & feet. I’ve had difficulty walking (staggering, balance problems), difficulty thinking and reasoning (at times severe cognitive difficulties), and memory loss. The two together caused extreme fatigue and aided in my depression. They can even cause cardiac and respiratory failure. You know that old saying about “having a nervous breakdown”? It’s literally the breaking down of my complete nervous system. Two times this year I have been in the ER room because of headaches. Headaches so severe, that they caused me to have vision problems, incoherent speech, and difficulties walking. My neurologist believes these migraines came from the stress my body was going through. Even with ongoing treatment, it will be 6 months or more before most of the symptoms will be gone.

It has been a rough 8 months. I am lucky to be able to surround myself with amazing people. Even though I have not been very forth coming with friends (because it’s really hard to explain to people what’s going on when you have no clue) but even so I have felt their support. From text messages and phone calls of friends asking if there was anything that they could do to outstanding coworkers getting me through the school year, I’ve experienced incredible support.

                                                           

Lavender has advocated for me through all of this. I am not sure they would have found out what was wrong with me without her persistence. She found a new doctor for me when my old doctor had reached a dead end. She became my voice when I was unable to communicate. She made my mornings easier when I was so tired I wasn’t sure if I could crawl out of bed. She helped me with my work when I was incapable of performing certain task. Most importantly, she held me in the darkest and scariest moments.  

My surprise through all of this is my daughter. Now in case you didn’t know she is amazing. I am so proud her. She has flourished in school. She works, volunteers, cheerleads, and is active in several clubs. She does it while maintaining a high GPA.

In the middle of all of this crazy health stuff, I screwed up and didn’t turn in some paper work in time. It cost her her most important scholarship. I was devastated because so far, she had made it through school with no debt and was on course to graduate debt free.

She was not mad or even upset. Instead, she applied and got job that allowed her to live on campus, free. She applied for several other scholarships to help replace the one I lost. She stepped up in ways that I would not have even known how to ask her to do. She starts her junior year this year and she is still on course to graduate debt free. She has even figured out how she is going to obtain her masters debt free.

Back to my amazing wife for a second, Lavender after much paper work was able to get Susan back the scholarship I thought was lost forever.

I am grateful to be surrounded by supportive, loving, ingenuitive, people.

 Here’s to better health!

Growing

It's been over a month since my last post. I wish I could tell you that everything is fine and back to normal but we all know that life takes work. I did go to the doctor. She diagnosed me with situational depression (big surprise). I also found out that my left thyroid is enlarged and my vitamin D was virtually nonexistent. I am on a low dose of wellbutrin and a heavy dose of vitamin D. Wellbutrin is not a magical happy pill but I am starting to feel normal.

I was running more but this week I am sick. Instead of feeling like my life is over and I will never run again I am looking forward to a race with my daughter and a good friend, this Sunday. It's going to be a very very slow 5 mile run but I am going to enjoy every minute of it. I'll even enjoy any discomfort I might feel the next day. 

I haven't lost any of the weight I put on but I haven't gained any weight in a month. That's an improvement since for the past year I gained weight every week.

You may remember Lois, the plant. I blogged about her here Life Lessons From Lois. She has moved off my painting table and now has a spot in the kitchen window. Two years and four months later, I am still talking to her and learning life's lessons. She has been cut  down twice, so that she can rest because everyone needs rest. She has only produced flowers that one time but her blooms are just one part of her.

On Saturday, I watered Lois for the first time in months,  to wake her from her winter sleep. Sunday morning her green leaves started pushing through her bulb. I am grateful for new growth.

Here I am in My Wonderful Life, Perfectly Miserable

I have written here about my weight loss and how with every pound I lost I had to deal with the reasons I gained them. I talked about the emotional part of losing weight. The struggle of losing the armor that protected me and comforted me. I shared my joys as I shed the image I had of myself- the uneducated teen mom… the hillbilly whose family members sexually abused her just like in all those jokes people tell that aren’t really funny at all… the person destined to be abused in every relationship.

I did it. I am in love with the most amazing person. I lost 110 pounds. I ran a marathon. I graduated from college. My daughter is doing well in college and succeeding in her own path. I got the career I wanted. Life is good. I mean really good.

But I am not. I know exactly when it happened. It was the second to last blog that I posted, if you want to read about it.  But, here is the recap- I had surgery last April. My step-mother sent me an edible arrangement.

Memories washed over me and I ate to feel good. I was mad at myself. I felt like I dealt with these issues and I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. After all, my life was good. I gained 20 pounds. Then I struggled with running. It was hard for me to get out the door. It was hard for me to do something that felt good. Next came the stupid shame cycle. I was ashamed of the way I felt. I was ashamed of losing my healthy mind and body. I was ashamed of not being able to do more. I was ashamed of not being able to talk about it. I pretty much stopped blogging because I had nothing left to say. I was failing myself and that made me feel ashamed.

Twenty more pounds came on and life kept coming at me. I was dealing by trying to pretend that I was dealing. Forget running, waking up was my new struggle. Going anywhere was a problem.

I remember going to the “Chosen Family” Thanksgiving. I cried the hour before leaving the house and the hour and half drive there. I remember thinking that I needed to get myself together. I was being ridiculous.

I gained 20 more pounds. Pretty much stopped running and now find it a challenge to get out of bed to go to work. This is the reality I find myself in today. All because of painful childhood memories I don’t know how to deal with. 

I don’t really believe in depression or mental illness but here I am getting ready for my wife to take me to the doctor. Here I am spending more days crying than doing anything else. Here I am in my wonderful life, perfectly miserable.

It’s time to stop pretending that I am okay. It’s time to start running toward my life again. I hope this includes mental growth, beautiful runs, a stronger marriage, more amazing bonds with my daughter, and life’s beautiful celebrations. I hope to blog more, run more, and celebrate what I have been through.

Run On!

One Goal

Last year a general education teacher announced to me that she did not think it was fair that ‘my’ student got to use a calculator on his math test. I am a special education teacher and one of the things I fight for is making sure ‘my’ students have a fair chance at doing and learning the same things their non-disabled peers do. This often means I make sure they have the appropriate accommodations to help them.

General education and the rest of the world could learn a lot from the running community about providing accommodations for different abilities. When I run the Chicago Marathon this October, I will do it with the top athletes of the world. I will run 26.2 miles just like them. I will cross the same finish line. The only difference is that I will finish around six hours and those top athletes will finish in just a little over two hours. But no one is going to tell me it isn’t fair because I had more time or that only my first 12 miles count. I will instead be congratulated on my personal accomplishment.

 Besides time there will be other accommodations that day. If a person is visually impaired they might run with a guide person. Some people will be running with prosthetic limbs, others in a wheel chair. Still others will be pushed the whole way through by another runner. Some runners will take frequent walk breaks. Some runners will run with headphones to drown out the million spectators.

In the running community everyone gets to run the same race and cross the same finish line, regardless of your ability or the accommodations that you need. Those that cross the Chicago Marathon finish line on October 13, no matter how the runner got there, will be considered a marathon runner. No one will say to me that it doesn’t count or that it isn’t fair because I required extra time than the top athletes. It also will not take anything away from those top athletes because I too got to run the same race as them.

Shameless plug please go here http://bit.ly/10VgYkz read why I am running for Lurie Children’s Hospital and consider donating towards my run!

After finishing the 2011 marathon in 6 hours and 14 minutes.

TW (Trigger Warning)

The night after surgery was a rough. I was in a lot of pain but of course the morning came. I was still in a lot of pain but able to get up, eat, and Lavender had opened the windows so it was bright and cheery. I was feeling better. The miracle of science and the human body… I mean less than 24 hours earlier I was cut open and an organ was removed and here I was feeling better.

Then I got a delivery, an Edible Arrangement and a get well soon balloon. The card was signed “Mom ‘C’.” It took me awhile to figure out that it was from my step-mom. At first I was like whatever and ate a piece of the fruit.

In the last 17 years I have had less than ten phone conversations with my step-mom and my father. When people ask why I don’t talk to my father I say something like “I got pregnant at seventeen and kicked out of my house.” That usually is enough information to get people to move on to the next subject. It’s not a lie just not the truth to that question.

See the truth is 17 years ago my father and his family were living overseas. He had flown to the states on business and decided to stop by and visit me. We were catching up in his hotel. I was telling him all about his granddaughter. He was filling me in on my brothers and sisters. Fast forward thirty minutes to him on top of me, I said, “Please don’t do this daddy.” Up until that point, even with all that went wrong between us in the past and the fact that I was 20, I still considered myself a daddy’s girl. But when the pain became too much in my soul and body as he forced himself onto me, I willingly took him in my mouth.

When I talked to my step mom on the phone in the coming weeks she first told me that she heard I had gotten fat and then informed me that she knew what happened. My father had told her that stuff had gotten out of hand. She said something about how bad he felt and that I should call him. I hung up the phone, shocked.  And so began 17 years of minimal contact.

The day that I got the delivery from my step-mom, I drifted in and out of medicated consciousness. The pain grew worse. My thoughts were getting uglier. My dreams were haunted and I felt like I couldn’t move. I felt miserable. By night time I had a slight fever and started dry heaving and then throwing up. Seventeen years later and I still could taste him in my mouth. Recovery from surgery didn’t go as planned.

I want to wrap this up with a nice neat little bow and talk about surviving and managing and things getting better but it might always be a mess. I might have to live with triggers and the pain of that night forever. I might always feel like white trash. I might always mourn the loss of that family. I might always replay the details in my head. I might always have dark and twisted thoughts. I might always be afraid of him. It might not ever get easier.

I keep getting up and I keep going on.

The "Get Well" balloon fixed up with a pair scissors, canvas, and oil paint.

Time for Change

After a discussion about urban violence, race, gangs, and poverty my seventh graders were directed to write about what we just discussed. They had very little instruction except to write. Please read some excerpts from different student’s writings.  

“The question is why? Why, such tragedy? Each and every day bullets are taking our young people out of the land of the living. The tragedy is over ridiculous things such as money, drugs, arguments, fights, power, revenge, and gangs.”

“Young people are getting into gangs for different reasons. They do it for protection from other gangs, to keep from being bullied, and for respect. Some people are just born into it like from generation to generation. Like a boy I knew. His dad, uncle sister, mother, and cousins are all in the same gang. He sold drugs shot people and even killed. He represented is gang to the fullest. One day he yelled at a group of guys and they killed him.”

“I shouldn’t be saying this but my family is in a gang.  I was born into it. I don’t tag or put anything up because I’m not ranked like my dad. I hate to be looked at like I am a low life. I have big dreams and smart stuff. But, being what I am in there is no way out. But I am going to be an intelligent and smart member, I don’t steal and kill.”

“My older brother joined a gang because his friends talked him into it. One day my baby brother was outside with my older brother when a different gang came by and shot three bullets.  They killed my baby brother. Young people don’t want to be in a gang but sometimes they have no choice. “

If they mentioned names of people or gangs, I left them out to protect the students who wrote these but otherwise this is the words of OUR children. These students are amazing and have the ability to change the world for the better. WE must figure out how to give them the tools to succeed.  WE must stop thinking that gang violence is not our problem. The time for change is NOW.