On the Cusp of the Big 5-0

It's now December 16th. My last day of being 49 years old. What a trip!

I used to think 30 was old, and I in NO WAY feel like I'm turning 50 tomorrow, on Wednesday. That's a half-century old!

Where did the time go, I ask?

Ah, well. I've learned a lot of things, made plenty of mistakes, had tons of laughs, cried a whole bunch, and met a lot of interesting people along the way.

I'm ready for my next 50 years, please and thank you benevolent (yet sometimes challenging) Universe.

I heard if you haven't grown up by the time you're 50, you don't have to. A good thing, since I wasn't planning on it anyway! *cackle*

Dealing with PTSD and Generalized Anxiety Disorder--Overwhelmed by Human Interaction

I joined a FB group for those, like me, who have Post-traumatic Stress Disorder (I was diagnosed by a psychiatrist in summer of 2006). Sadly, the group only causes more anxiety and agitation for me, so I had to remove myself. It was too much to deal with. Lots of overwhelming, intense posts and many upsetting ones that acted as triggers.

This is why I wouldn't want to do group therapy--because when people are in pain and hurting, it impacts me so much on the inside (though I may not show it on the outside), that my anxiety disorder kicks in, along with the nasty PTSD side effects, and I end up feeling unwell. If I become too emotionally upset, I get sick because my system gets so run down from it all.

So, if I ever tell you, "I am not ready to talk about this right now," or, "I have to sit with this; I'll get back to you later," please don't push me. There's a reason why I tell you those things. Respect my boundaries and wishes, just as I would do for you.

And while I do meditate, practice breathing, and do other things to assist with managing my Generalized Anxiety Disorder (GAD) and PTSD, it takes much more than those things to treat my issues. Simplistic advice for complex problems doesn't wash, especially when you aren't me and you don't know all the facts or backstory/history.

My Three Blogs: Pick and Choose

I have three main blogs. Two are primarily related to writing (the oldest blog was established in 2005). In addition, I also have a personal blog.

For writing, reading, book info, and editing tips, go to http://intrepidwordslinger.wordpress.com
or  http://elementalmusing.blogspot.com.

For personal posts about life, creativity, art, crocheting, knitting, and miscellanea, visit http://theredmistdescends.blogspot.com.

Read, comment, follow, please ;-)

If you have a blog, comment with the website address and I'll return the favor. I love reading other people's blogs!

I'd appreciate it!

[Dream] Cafeteria shenanigans

Last night I had another weird Trazodone-fueled dream. I looked into it, and Trazodone does give some people weird-ass dreams. They're so bizarre and disconcerting to some that people stop taking it. Not me, though. Strangely, I look forward to a new adventure every night.

Some dreams are more disturbing than others, but they're *never* boring. Last night I was in a cafeteria with my daughter Britt. The cafeteria was full of all sorts of food -- but it was weird, odd food. Strange colors, strange combinations, odd dishes.

Britt kept wandering off, which annoyed me. I'd turn around to ask her something, and she was gone again. When I went to call for her, I'd yell for Wendy, even though I knew her name was Britt. The name Wendy came out of my mouth each and every single time, and I'd go, "Damnit, I meant Britt!"

I told Britt about the dream and when I mentioned that I called her Wendy over and over, she replied, "Mmm...Wendy's sounds good." Lol! I have to agree with her. I could go for a Frosty right now.

Yes, I know it's not healthy food and all of that. I'm not completely daft! I still want a Frosty and a spicy chicken sandwich. So there! ;-p

[Guest Post] The War for Protest

This week I'm pleased to feature a guest blog from Jonathan Porter, a writer and editor based in Chicago, Illinois. He's also my son. I'm proud of him and excited to share his work. Please visit and follow his blog at https://jonathanporter.squarespace.com/blog/

The War for Protest

by Jonathan Porter

Last night, en route to an early morning encore of The Daily Show, I watched a city burn and smolder, and knowing now how it all came to pass, I can only feel sadness. Sadness for a community and generation that mistakes peace for inaction. Sadness for a society so insulated and paranoid that militarizing local law enforcement is touted as progressive. And sad for a culture that champions its witch hunt of bigoted language but still succumbs to closeted, hegemonic paternalism when mired in racial controversy.

But above all, I grieve for Michael Brown's parents. For their loss, and their (so far) unattainable single wish: peace. Despite a string of non-violence pleas from Michael Brown Sr. and Lesley McSpadden as well as a steady media narrative that condemned any act of looting or violence as counter-productive and disrespectful, the Ferguson saga always seemed like a racial crucible destined to boil over. This has to at least be the thinking of St. Louis County Chief of Police, Jon Belmar, who, when asked to assess the preparedness of his agency, implied that no amount of preparation could contend with a community hell-bent on tearing itself apart.

No one will contend that the Ferguson protests have been 100% diplomatic, but unilaterally characterizing every protestor as an unreasonable anarchist is symptomatic of the apathy that continues to erode the deep rift between Ferguson's white-washed law enforcement and its predominantly black populace. Belmar expressed disappointment when the first fires were lit Monday night and the St. Louis County police have taken that one step further on Tuesday by prohibiting all forms of protest or assembly along West Florissant Avenue and near Ferguson police headquarters.

The Ferguson police contend that the forced dismissal of protestors is a necessary action needed to prevent further arrests, injuries and property damage, and unfortunately they're right. Despite possessing what I classify as the moral high ground, the majority of peaceful Ferguson protests have been undermined by sporadic shootings, looting, assaults, arson and death threats. Those that have wept for Michael Brown were emboldened tonight by spontaneous protests in more urbane, racial diverse and progressive metropolises like NYC, Philly and LA but the decisive battleground for racial equality remains in the heart of the nation.

The Ferguson protests have been bookended by disheartening violence and have raised real concerns about its core leadership despite coming off an atypically peaceful October, but one constant has rightfully attracted the ire of Ferguson's citizens and that is local law enforcement's unrelenting apologist campaign to absolve itself of any responsibility. This near four-month saga is the equivalent of absolutely irate person being sequestered by a steady stream of "I'm just doing my job." When I see reports from Ferguson, I see citizens having their right to assemble unabashedly stripped away from them under the guise of civil protection. When law enforcement starts disassociating the ideology behind public action, they become better at indiscriminately suppressing perceived threats but they also risk viewing their fellow man as a collection of hazards that need to be suppressed.

Honestly, I think we're past risking that. If you turn on the news, it looks like Missouri is being invaded by another country. There are manned armored vehicles patrolling assembly areas and police officers armed with military-grade weaponry. The reason: to bring peace to a public afraid of the police shooting them. The militarization of local law enforcement is an undeniable national trend and a surprising blemish on the already-well-tarnished Obama administration. This, the recent revelations of Edward Snowden and Project PRISM and the booming growth of the prison industry have bred even more distrust of law enforcement in America -- the place that gave the world this:

It's the responsibility of local law enforcement to ensure order but it's also their prerogative to facilitate a society befitting the needs of its people and, right now, the peaceful Ferguson protestors need to be demonstrative and exorcise their repressed dissatisfaction with those charged to serve and protect. I wasn't on Canfield Drive when Michael Brown was shot. I don't know if he reached for Darren Wilson's gun or if Brown charged him after initially fleeing. I don't know if twelve rounds was way too many or just enough. All I know is what I see, and that is an embattled public looking for justice and transparency from their law enforcement. On the opposite end, I see a police force that sees its heartbroken masses as lunatics looking to start a few fires and ransack some convenience stores. If those actions were all we saw, that would be one thing; but they're not. Ferguson's protest nucleus may not be able to completely curtail the anarchistic whims of those on the fringe but their leadership structure and message are clear. Across the nation, people are walking in unison, galvanized by their fear of law enforcement without restraint and fueled by prejudice. The grand irony though - and perhaps our nation's biggest failing tonight - is that they're marching everywhere, except in Ferguson. Reading Darren Wilson liken an already-twice-shot Michael Brown to something between Hulk Hogan and a feral animal, it's hard not to suspect Mr. Brown is dead because of deep-rooted racial fear, but it's our national prerogative to prevent this from being the dying ground of protest and new ideas. Ferguson police officials in the press spent their air time condemning the needless and irresponsible destruction of local small businesses. There's no need ruining the dreams and livelihoods of your fellow residents just because the law didn't break your way. While the burning of businesses is undue and reckless, they are just brick and mortar and no insurance company is going to risk the potential PR clusterfuck of harassing a small business owner from Ferguson, Missouri over a policy pay-out. Peoples livelihoods are being compromised but it's not because someone decided to lob a Molotov cocktail into a Nissan dealership. Not once has the Ferguson police department offered their sympathies or demonstrated their understanding following Officer Wilson's full exoneration. Not once have they offered to reveal their criminal apprehension and training protocol to the public, or offer to reform it. Instead, Ferguson PD has systemically restricted core civic rights and demonized the public for labeling their actions as anything less than heroic pragmatism. These people need to have their voices heard. Ferguson and St. Louis County police should leap at the opportunity to listen to the concerns of the protest's core leadership while continuing to arrest the citizens whom are actually vandalizing, assailing, stealing and incinerating. It's not a hard distinction to make. All it takes is a little empathy and discernment. Ferguson PD may be too entrenched in the protocols of ass coverage to ever see the light and, as a result, these protests could go on for weeks while the specter of police state becomes more firmly embedded in the American psyche.

* * *

Here's to the safety of the peaceful Ferguson demonstrators and those that have lost loved ones to gun violence. Here's hoping Ferguson PD apprehends all truly violent and dangerous offenders. But mostly, here's to ideas and protest, not as tools of dissension, but as keys to sustained growth, prosperity and social harmony.

"You mean it's not my fault?" Educating the masses.

This is for all of you who've said or been told, "Oh, you're just overweight. Eat less, exercise...it's just too much fat and you can get rid of it easily." Obesity or being overweight is one thing, lipedema is a genetic disorder and NO amount of dieting, exercise, or diuretics will cure it. Women who are anorexic get it. Women of all sizes get it. It's genetic, and if a female ancestor of yours had it, you have a greater chance of getting it, too.

There are no medications you can take for lipedema, which may also be one reason why the U.S. medical community isn't interested in doing much about it. They can't make a ton of money on this through drugs, for one reason.

Even if you have the tumescent liposuction in Europe, this disorder can take over again. And, worse yet, it can take over your ENTIRE body...you could literally starve yourself and it would STILL take over. Lipomas will form, the lymphatic system is compromised, you will bruise easily because the vascular system is also compromised, and if you are lucky, you might be able to hold at stages 1 or 2 (I am currently at stage 2).

Usually it's not caught early because women are just advised to 'diet and exercise.' Well, if you're traditionally overweight, that's fine. But this is NOT the same thing. This is a GENETIC DISORDER, WITH UNKNOWN CAUSES (BUT THOUGHT TO BE HORMONAL IN NATURE).

So, before you judge women, you should know what you're talking about. Only a few men have gotten this disorder, but roughly 11% of the population of U.S. women have lipedema. Most go undiagnosed, because they're told, "Oh, you're just overweight!" No...this is NOT the same thing, folks. That's like telling a diabetic to just regulate their sugar by using mind control.

Please watch enlightening video. Update what you THINK you know about some people -- me included. Because while there are many horses out there (people who are simply overweight), there's a group of zebras, like me, who have a genetic disorder that causes pain, swelling, bruising, mobility issues, and other uncomfortable things.

Increasing lipedema and lymphedema awareness is important so that, someday, women who may have it can get diagnosed before they're well onto their way to the latter stages of the disease.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ncvw-SwWk5Q

Revamping Nocturnal Muse website. Come visit me!

http://www.nocturnalmuse.com

Revamping my author website.

Still have another section or two to complete, so excuse the parts under construction. However, please bookmark the site and stop by when you get a chance!

Breathe, breathe, and breathe again!

My longtime friend, Cyndy Clemens, who is a trained breathworker, had some excellent advice today about the need for people to practice proper deep breathing when they first wake up for the day.

I am required to do breathing exercises for my recently diagnosed lipedema and lymphedema. Deep, proper breathing, particularly to activate the L-2 area of the spine, where a large cluster of lymph nodes is located, is important for all of us.

Each week when I go in for Manual Lymph Drainage (MLD), my physical therapist has me do specific breathing exercises while she works on different areas of my body.

Once I finish with this round of therapy in a number of weeks or months, she will teach me what I will need to do from home as far as MLD for the rest of my life. That will, of course, include instructions for daily breathing exercises.

So, proper breathing is only helpful for these diseases (which are not curable, only manageable), but I feel terrific when I do them as well. Breathing not only helps the lungs and other parts of the body, it's essential for proper function of the lymphatic system, which is a system I didn't know much about before August, when I was diagnosed. The majority of people have NO clue and they should learn how it's incredibly important to their lymphatic system, which supports the circulatory system and is essential for good health!

Make a note to learn how to breathe properly, then practice it daily!

Facebooking My Life Away

I'm Facebooking my life away—literally.

The other night I read an article about how much time people spend on Facebook. Most of the time, people may underestimate how much time they stay on the popular social media site. A link in the article led me to an app that would calculate how much time I'd spent on Facebook. I knew I'd languished in the pages and profiles of FB for hours. I also knew I was on Facebook most every single day. Still, I decided to check out the app and get an idea of just how much lollygagging I'd spent on Zuckerberg's addictive social media haven.

To put it bluntly, I was stunned. Taken aback. Actually, appalled might be a better word. Or perhaps horrified. Any way you cut it, I knew the calculation would be high, but until I saw the final total, I didn't realize just how high it was. Ready? *deep sigh* According to the app, since November 2012, when I launched my new personal profile, I've spent 173 days on Facebook. Yes, you read that correctly—DAYS. In more eye-opening terms, over the past two years, I've spent a full six months of my life on FB, posting statuses, replying to comments, returning messages, writing messages, sharing photos, and on and on. SIX months of my life, and for what? I'm still stunned over the results. I knew Facebook was a regular, almost daily, part of my life. I knew I spent way too much time over the site. But until I saw the actual figure, it didn't sink in just how much time I'd wasted over the past two years.

What could I have done with that extra six months? Almost anything, but specifically, I could've been writing my next book (or two). I could've read more books (I read about 50 to 80 a year, but imagine how many others I could've consumed!). The beginning of 2014, I took up crocheting once again after a 24-year absence; I could've learned quite a few new stitches or learned to crochet several new items. I could've taken more online college-level courses. Let's face it: I couldn't done a heckuva lot more interesting stuff than stare at Facebook for hours, refreshing my feed over and over again.

Now, I'm not saying you should be busy all the time, producing nothing but work. That's silly. I'm not saying social media is terrible, because it's not. But what I am saying is that six months of one's life spent on Facebook over a span of two years is a ridiculous amount of time pissed down the toilet. Time most often spent arguing or debating about politics or religion. Time that could've been more emotionally, mentally, and creatively rewarding (with more to show for it!) Six months of my life is too much of a chunk of that two years. Way too much.

By comparison, I spend much less time on Twitter. It helps that Twitter restricts your updates to 140 characters—unless you cheat and use Twitlonger, which I've done on occasion. With Twitter, I've found it helpful and informative when it comes to developing and/or breaking information on a global scale relating to science, global events, literature, tech, and countless other subjects. You will uncover information much earlier than you will at the major new outlets, such an CNN. I've seen it happen numerous times.

The best part is that Twitter takes up less time in my day. A single visit (or perhaps two) in a day usually suffices. Sometimes I won't check Twitter for days, though. But when I do, it's a quick visit that is a lot shorter than lingering for hours on Facebook. What's more, my blood pressure doesn't shoot up to dangerous levels over political and/or religious posts. Most of my feed is populated by people in the publishing industry, which is nothing but advantageous if you're a professional writer, blogger, and copy editor like I am.

So, having discovered the horrible truth of just how much I've lingered on Facebook over the past two years, I decided it was high time for a break. I won't deactivate my account, but it's clear I need to use it less often. MUCH LESS!

For now, I'll be hanging over here on my blog or on Twitter at @Mother_of_Crows if you want to connect. Or follow me. I'd like that. And hey, I'll follow back if I can. I'm at the limit right now, but I usually clean out my list every couple of months, if not sooner. Following the self-aware Roomba is interesting, but I'm sure you're much more so...right?

In the meantime, I'll devote more time and energy to my writing and fewer days to feeding my (obvious) FB addiction. I doubt most people will notice anyway, and that's another win for me.

Stage Two and Holding, So Far

Forgot to add that on Monday I finally remembered to ask my lipodema/lymphedema therapist what stage she thought I was in. She said that, based on the clinical signs and her experience, I'm at stage two. I told her I thought so as well, based on the photos and info I'd read on my own. I told her I did NOT want to progress to stages three or four (not gonna lie, stage four horrifies me). Her eyes widened and she said we didn't want that, which is why it's so important to be faithful with the Manual Lymph Drainage(MLD)and compression garments. So, it's official. I'm stage two. I'll take it. Better than the other alternatives! Just wish I'd caught this while I was in stage one, but that rarely happens.

Hot Vikings? Yes, please! ;-)

When I first met Paul nine years ago, I was immediately attracted to him. He looks JUST like a Viking. Fast forward to 2013 when I received the results of my ancestral DNA report. I found out the majority of my DNA came from Northern Europe, including Scandinavia (particularly Norway). 

Hmm...perhaps getting hot and bothered over Paul looking like a Viking stirred something in my Northern European genes and I didn't even know it back in 2005 when we met. 

Hot Vikings? Yes, please. ;-p I married one. Hubba hubba!

Lipedema/Lymphedema Therapy Update—November 8, 2014

Meant to post this before now, but lotsa stuff going on. Visit with my physical therapist for Manual Lymph Drainage (MLD ) went well. Overall, my lower limbs are down in size and she's pleased with how compliant I am with following her recommendations. She hasn't measured me yet for my permanent compression stockings, though. I thought it would be this week, but she wants to wait another week or two.

I want to recognize my beloved husband for going with me, faithfully, to every appointment and being there in the room when everything takes place. I couldn't ask for a more supportive husband! I'm still bummed that what I have is not curable, but my therapist and my husband keep me positive. He reminds me that I'm beautiful and that my condition hasn't diminished his love for me one bit.

So, I have two visits per week, on average, and my therapist has 24 years of experience treating patients with lipedema & lymphedema. I'm in good hands -- literally!

A couple of things I have to watch out for the rest of my life: one, I can't do hot tubs anymore (not that I did them a lot, but still); two, I have to be careful when I travel by plane due to the effect it can have on my calves, ankles, and feet. It's also recommended that I use an electric shaver instead of razors to shave, since cuts, punctures, scratches all spell bad news in a limb with lipedema/lyphedema. In the scheme of things, it's a day-by-day situation.

A friend of mine asked if there isn't a medication I can take to help. The answer is no. There is no medication that can help, and diuretics, diet, or exercise cannot cure my conditions. The cause is unknown, and lipedema is classified as a rare disease.

Anyway, just an update because Thursday's visit was a good one. I think she said my lower legs were down an inch in some areas, which is fabulous. Too bad they won't stay there permanently, but as long as they're not going up and heading to the next stage, I consider it a victory. I do NOT want to end up in Stages 3 or 4.

Introducing Chicago Writer and Editor Jonathan Porter

Man, there are times when I'm overwhelmed with pride because of my kids. This is one of them!

My son, Jonathan, finally has his own site. He is a writer and editor (just like his dear old mom!). But, unlike me, he's worked for cool-ass places like Madison Square Garden and Lions Gate Entertainment.

If you have a moment, please stop by. He is still working on the site, but there's content up there already and it's filling out nicely. Plus, I'm proud and I wanna share it with you guys!

http://jonathanporter.squarespace.com

Life Changes: A Double Diagnosis of Lipedema & Lymphedema

About a month ago, I learned that I may have lymphedema, which means your lymphatic system is compromised or blocked in some way. Earlier this week, after visiting a local outpatient rehab lymphedema clinic, I learned that I have both lipedema *and* lymphedema.

Both manifested later in life; I'll be 50 in December and so I didn't notice any problems/symptoms until I was middle-aged. Up till then, nothing seemed amiss and everything looked and felt normal. In effect, I received unexpected news and it was a double whammy; not just one issue with my lymphatic and vascular system, but two. Neither can be cured, only managed.

I am just now learning about these diseases and they will be a part of my daily routine for the rest of my life. Since most people haven't heard of them and don't understand them, I wanted to share the experience with friends, family, and whoever else may find themselves in the situation I am now.

A friend of mine wanted to know more so she could understand, so I wrote the below-posted information to help explain it as best I could. Then I realized I might as well post this info on my blog to let people know about this new development in my life and to also inform those who may want to know or may need to know more about lipedema and lymphedema.

As I told my friend Mari on Facebook, "Lipedema is rare and it's not caused by what you eat or how much you weigh. Overeating or improper nutrition do not cause it; therefore, losing weight or restricting calories will not affect the diseased tissue/fluid. In fact, I can attest to this, since I've lost well over 50 lbs over the past few years. It does not matter at all. Anorexics can get lipedema, in fact. So when you say 'care for your body,' that care means keeping the skin moisturized and protected so bacteria can't get in dry or cracked skin or feet. Otherwise you can get cellulitis, and that can be deadly. About 27,000 people a year die from that.
Second, the lymphatic system only moves one way—up. That means blockages or a compromised system can't move the lymphatic fluid properly, and that's a big problem! So, care also includes getting the fluid moving through special massage techniques, as well as compression to keep the lymph from settling in the lower limbs where infection can develop.

Manual lymph drainage is necessary (for a person like me who has lipedema and lymphedema as well.) The vascular system and lymphatics are compromised or damaged. Penrose rehab wants me to come in for manual drainage twice a week, but they aren't sure if our health insurance will cover it. They recommend twice a week for that, and compression garments and bandaging daily, from the time I get up to the time I go to bed (at least 12 hours a day). If insurance doesn't cover the therapy, then it's likely I'll have to try and learn how to do it myself (and I'd prefer an expert with years of training do it instead, if possible.)

Neither conditions can be cured or treated with diuretics or medicine. It will only become more severe. There's no way to completely stop it. So, no, I will not be completely healthy in this regard, regardless of what I do. I can only hope to delay it from advancing to a more severe stage. It already affects my mobility right now, so I just do the best I can and go from there.

Bruising is common, and these conditions can worsen with activity and warm weather. Vigorous exercise—especially without compression stockings—will exacerbate the problem and make things worse. So, as you can see, these are tricky conditions that become progressively worse. The best hope is to try and manage them as best as possible. I know this is a lot of info, but there's a lack of knowledge about these conditions, and it's important (at least for me and others suffering from these conditions) that people are educated and don't make assumptions or think it's simply, "Well, lose weight and exercise more." Nope! If it were only that simple! I can get down to a size 1 and I'd still have it. That's why one physician I read called it a "rare and devastating disease," with the psycho-social aspects particularly hard for patients. I was recently diagnosed, but I'm already having issues with it. Having understanding and supportive friends—such as yourself—makes a huge difference for patients dealing with lipedema/lymphedema.

As I said, doctors and researchers don't know what causes it, but they believe it's genetic (hereditary) and also hormonal. It cannot be cured, and it's the same for lymphedema. Both affect your mobility and can result, in severe cases, in being wheelchair-bound or, in the extreme case, amputation of the legs. Because I've been pro-active in getting a diagnosis and treatment, I don't expect the latter two to happen. The person affected must follow meticulous treatment. It's not something that can be ignored, because you cannot reverse it; it can only get worse. About 11% of women have lipedema, and rarely do men get it (only 2, I believe, from the articles I read from Dr Karen Herbst, who is a doctor in Arizona and an expert in this field). It's classified as a rare disease, as I mentioned before. For men, almost unheard of!

Paul, sorry I hijacked the thread, but I needed to write this up for my page and my blogs anyway. Might as well explain quite a bit of it now! Thanks for asking, Mari. I went way beyond what you asked, but now you know the gist of it all."

[Guest Post] Hiding in Plain Sight: A True Story of Weight Loss

This week I'm pleased to share a guest post from my dear friend, C. Yvonne D. It is an inspirational post about self-acceptance and determination. I hope you find it as uplifting as I did.

Thank you for sharing your words, C. Yvonne D.!
================================

I've been fairly silent about my journey. It has been a long, arduous journey, and I've finally decided that it's time to break my silence. I spent twenty years of my life living as a plus-size woman. I look back at photos taken over those twenty years, and I see the misery and pain. Yet, what I've realized from losing this weight is that there was also an armor, or shield, that came from that plus-size number. It's finally time to tell my story.

At my heaviest weight, I tipped the scales at just over 325. In fact, my doctor at the time joked about calling the Broncos to add me to their roster if gained any more weight. I bounced from diet to diet, trying to lose weight, while secretly sabotaging myself.

When I went to see my kidney specialist (nephrologist) in February of 2012, I had been seeing a therapist for over a year. I knew I was sinking. I knew I needed help. As I sat there that morning, I received some hard news. My nephrologist looked at me and said, point blank, "If you don't lose weight, you're going to die. You are killing yourself, and only you can fix it." He then wrote out a referral for a dietitian, and a surgery consult. I was suddenly confronting a fear bigger than the one that had kept me heavy.

I spent hours in fear and agony while making the choice to follow through with the dietitian. I felt I was now working on paying someone to humiliate and laugh at me. The tapes of being bullied throughout my formative schooling years had led me to a lifetime of self-ridicule. I learned how to beat myself up better than they ever had . Even today, some of those words haunt me.

I finally went in, and I'm so grateful I did. My dietitian didn't teach me anything I didn't already know, but she did become a vital player in my weight loss; she became my first cheerleader. I also followed through with my surgery pre-op appointment. The nurse in the gastro office informed me that I qualified for the surgery, but would have to prove over a six-month period that I could follow a diet plan and become healthier. I asked if it was possible to lose enough weight to no longer qualify for the surgery. She told me that at my current Body Mass Index (BMI) of 33, it would not be possible to get under the 28 BMI requirement in six months. I thanked her, because in that moment she became another vital player: she had given me a goal.

Somewhere around my fourth month of weight loss, I was no longer dieting. My health was at risk and I didn't want my children motherless. I had gained a voice, a piece of self-worth, a morsel of self-satisfaction. I can't give specifics of what changed; I can't tell you that I started pumping iron, or working out crazily; none of those things happened. I did work out for thirty minutes, almost every morning, on the Wii Fit. I ate proper portions and began walking more. It wasn't that I was suddenly trying. It was that the weight loss had finally found its hold on my heart. I discovered the missing connection.

I overcame my first challenge at the six-month mark. When the nurse called back for my next surgery appointment, I proudly told her I had successfully lost seventy pounds—enough weight to no longer qualify for the surgery. The extra pounds magically vanished and I no longer engaged in stress eating. That was until a gentleman at the store noticed me. He smiled and said hi, and while I know he was simply being friendly, I reeled into a familiar, dark place. I lost my shield and I was no longer invisible. Thankfully I remained in therapy, because the next weeks would prove challenging.

What nobody tells you about weight loss—the taboo part of the whole challenge—is that no one talks about what put you at that weight. It took weeks for me to realize my weight had become a shield. Part of it was a false sense of security. You see, I had been raped when I was thinner. My weight gain had become a double shield. I felt invisible when I was heavier, and in being invisible, you feel safer. If they can't see you, they can't hurt you. There was also a part of me that believed if someone tried to hurt me, I could stop them because I was bigger, heavier. If nothing else, I could sit on them. My weight made me miserable, but it also protected me.

I still have those moments of fear and anxiety. It's not that I never stress eat anymore; instead, I have learned to limit what and how much I eat. I haven't had to fight to stay thinner; it happens because much of my life has truly changed. A year ago, I started T’ai Chi. It has been a tremendous help. Also, I took up bike riding a month ago—something I never thought I’d do again.

Recently, I overcame one of my final challenges. I became overweight. You might wonder, "What? How is that good?" When you start at morbidly obese and move to simply being overweight, it becomes a celebration. I still have weight to lose, but I'm no longer actively trying to lose weight. Instead, I'm learning to be happy and healthy.

The best news is that I went from stage four kidney failure down to stage two. My nephrologist was right—only I could change my life and my future. You can, too. You can become bigger than the bullies and the rapists on the inside. You can also overcome the outside.

What people sometimes forget is that you don't have to do it alone. There are people out there who can, and will, help. All you need to do is ask. Everyone's struggle is different, yet at the core we are all the same. You can face the hard work and challenges, because you've faced worse and you're still here, still kicking. Find your voice, your passion, your zest for life, and overcome the pain of your past. You are the only one who can do it, and you can.

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AUTHOR BIO
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A mother of three and a grandma to three, C. Yvonne D. was born with a kidney disease called IgA Nephropathy. Her condition was exacerbated by a medication cocktail given to her in her thirties that was supposed to help her cope with the painful onset of fibromyalgia and rheumatoid arthritis. In her words, "I have spent 42 years afraid of almost everything. I've been defined by my titles, pain, diseases, and mental health. I am in an ever-evolving journey to push through these definitions, for they are such a small part of who I am. I am learning to be me and I'm ready to share a piece of my story."

Recurrent Dream: Lost Again

Again, I had the same dream but in a different setting. I've lost count how many times I've had this dream over the past six months.

I am at a place -- sometimes a campus, an amusement park, a high school, a sprawling housing complex, a fairground with rides, a city or town. I end up getting lost and wandering around for hours.

Although I ask for help, either I get vague or wrong directions, or no response at all. I try all different routes to get to where I need to go, but I end up somewhere else, and even more confused.

It's a frustrating, depressing dream that never seems to end. In the dream, everyone else is oblivious or they are nonchalant.

I'm well aware how this dream mirrors the challenges that have come up over the past few years. I get the symbolism and the layers of meaning. One day soon I'll find my way and I won't be lost in my dreams anymore--or in real life.

It's up to me to figure it out, as it has been most of my life. Except I'm weary and tired. I need a break, but as they say, people in hell want ice water, too. I'm not sure why I haven't given up, like many people would have.

My psychiatrist was amazed I am not a substance abuser or alcoholic, based on my life history. It goes against my nature, I guess. If I give up, I surrender and I'm beaten. I'm not that type of person, though.

Once I get knocked against the ropes, it takes time for me to recover, but once I do I'll come out swinging again. I'm tenacious, if nothing else. Stupidly so, perhaps. This recurring dream reflects that.

Being human is about being real. I'm being real with you, even if it's uncomfortable.

Gaining Clarity and Trusting Yourself

Final thought for tonight: if someone else can do something, you can too if you have the will, the drive, the passion, the motivation, the dedication, and the foundational information needed to achieve it. If any of those things are lacking, it will be difficult to model the results you seek.

I know what I'm passionate about. I know what I can accomplish when I set my mind to it. If I want it, I will do it. If I don't want it or lack the interest or dedication, I won't do it.

What is it that YOU want? Not your family. Not your friends. Not your spouse. Not your kids. What do YOU want?

What makes your soul sing? When you engage in that activity, do you slip away, losing track of time because it's a pleasant experience and you're in 'the zone'? That's a hint right there. Whatever makes you feel that way, pay attention to it. Pursue it.

Don't ask other people's permission. Don't ask them what THEY think you should do. It's not about them. It's about YOU. Nobody knows you better than yourself.

Unless you're clear on what YOU want (not what people THINK you should want or be), you won't accomplish anything near what you wish for. Getting clear is utmost in importance.

I've lost some clarify over the years, or sacrificed it for other things and people that were merely distractions from the genuine passion that lives within my core being. But now, RIGHT NOW, I am crystal clear on what I want, and I aim to get it, one way or another.

Why yes, I do use marijuana for medical purposes. What of it?

To my dear friends: it's okay to tell people I use marijuana and that it helps with my medical issues. I'm not afraid to admit it and it's okay if you tell others should they ask for examples of people who use marijuana to assist with their issues.

In a nutshell, in summer of 2006 I was diagnosed by a psychiatrist with generalized anxiety disorder (GAD), PTSD, Dysthymia (dysthymic disorder), and dual depression. I went in for a study on depression and, after running through all the prelims, I was told my problems were too complex for the study. I had no idea. It was an eye-opener for sure!

According to mentalhelp.net, "'Dual' or 'Double' depression is a term used to describe the condition of a person with Dysthymia who also develops a more severe and persistent Major Depressive Episode at the same time. As mentioned previously, dysthymia is a less severe type of depression that involves long-term, chronic symptoms that do not disable, but which do make it difficult to function or feel good. People diagnosed with double depression require aggressive depression treatment not only during the acute Major Depression phase, but also during the chronic low-grade Dysthymia phase that follows in order to try to prevent future occurrences of Major Depressive Episodes. Studies suggest that individuals with double depression often respond well to antidepressants for their Major Depressive Episodes, but that their low-grade dysthymic symptoms may not abate completely. In other words, if you suffer from double depression, medication may relieve your most severe depressive symptoms, but you may not experience periods of feeling completely well."

So yes, I do smoke weed when I have anxiety attacks or feel like I'm about to have a meltdown. Now, I can tell you that I'm proud of myself for accomplishing what I do, given the fact that I've had days when getting out of bed was a major feat. I wouldn't wish all of this on anybody, BUT if you suffer from any of these conditions, take heart that you CAN still function, even though it's difficult at times.

Don't be too hard on yourself (still working on that myself!) and remind people that you DO have these conditions, so people who aren't struggling with them can learn about them and offer you support and assistance. You are capable, strong, and resilient!

Feel free to message me at any time if you need a boost, okay? I've been there and done that. Still fighting it...but winning (or so I believe)! Blessings & love.

Spread inspiration wherever you can

We were in Subway the other day and the young man behind the counter and I chatted briefly. A guy came in and wanted to break a hundred-dollar bill. I told the counter guy, "It's hard to find a place that'll break a hundred-dollar bill. I hardly ever have them, though. Heck, I hardly have a fifty-dollar bill!" He laughed in agreement. I told him that someday I hoped he made tons of money and had lots of hundred-dollar bills. He smiled and told me thanks. You could see his face light up. Before I left, I told him thank you and added, "Don't ever give up on your dreams." It was a positive exchange, and I hope that, somehow, he will remember one day that a stranger told him those words so he'll act on them. Never let the world crush your dreams or your hope. Many attempts will happen, and some days you'll be so low you'll feel like giving in. I know I have! But there's always hope and a ray of light somewhere. You just have to find it! I'm still looking...I know it's out there...

Welsh dreams...

Paul is watching "Penny Dreadful." Timothy Dalton is in the series and I melt every damned time I see him in anything, pretty much. *sigh* Plus, he's Welsh.

In the copy of the genealogical papers I have from the family historian on my birth mother's side, my 9th generation ancestors, William Hughes and (Mary) Molly Daten, married in Surrey, England. Molly Daten was born in Wales and lived to be 87. They had six children: Mary Hughes (1748-1810), Susannah Hughes (1767-1834), Rebecca Hughes (1769-Unknown), Elizabeth Hughes (1774-1870), Moses Hughes (1774-1841), and Milburn Hughes (1776-1867).

I have Scottish ancestors as well (Clan Fergusson and Clan MacNeil of Barra), but I haven't spent as much time investigating my Welsh, Irish, and Northern European ancestry.

After having my DNA test done, there are so many parts that make up the whole. I love this stuff!

Perhaps when I go back to the UK, I can visit Wales and see my friends Gareth Tamplin and Robin James Ganderton.