Family life, Paleo-ish eating and Coping with Chronic Illness

I’m Not High; I’m Happy.

I am happy.  I am happy to be alive, and happy to wake up, and happy to go to work, and happy to be breathing.  I am just happy.   Happiness isn’t the best subject for a blog.  I know that.   Because, really, life just goes to crap so often, and who wants to read about some annoying lady who is happy? That’s not helping.  That’s kind of boring, and I don’t blame you for saying it.   But, I just gotta call it like I see it.  I’m not good at fake stuff.  You just have to go where you’re led, right?

Lately, I’ve been feeling kind of high.  You might not believe me when I tell you that I’ve never been high, but I’m not joshing ya. I just dealt the stuff, I was never dumb enough to take it. I’ve got a lying problem.  I’m sorry for that.  And, maybe I should try to remember that not everyone who reads my blog is a close friend, or related to me.  Some people might not actually realize that I wouldn’t be a very good crack dealer.  It’s just not my skill set.

What I’m trying to say is just that I think how I feel right now might be what feeling high is like. If  that’s true, I can see why people become addicts.

Last year at this time, life was hard.  I blogged my way through it; thank you for that.  Blogging helps.

Eddie was so sick at this time last year. Really sick.  I don’t want to say we were desperate, but we were desperate.  The whole winter was excruciating, really.  We just kept waiting for a reprieve; we couldn’t seem to find one.  Watching my son’s body be beaten by illness was bad. And, by bad, I mean soul crushing.  Physically, things were a mess.  Mentally, things were worse.  The whole ridiculous battle just felt like too much.

It’s hard watching people you love face pain and hardship. You try to fight for them, but, eventually you realize you really can’t.  They have to fight for themselves.  You watch them fight alone, and you hate it.  You’re not sure they’re strong enough to win. Eventually, they get tired.  They quit believing winning is possible.  They want to quit fighting. You hate it more.  You hate it as much as you’ve hated anything in your life.  You wish you could start from the beginning, but you can’t.  This is your life.

Last year there was a lot of fighting.  Last year there was a lot of me watching my son fight alone.  Last year there was a lot of crying, and wondering just what was so wrong with me trying to fight for him.

Last year, my counselor told me to, “stop”.  He did.  He told me to hand the gloves over to Eddie and to back out of the ring. He told me It was time for me to trust Eddie to fight for himself.   My counselor said this exactly, “A parent can never make something happen for their child by wanting it more than the child does.”

I’m not sure anyone has ever said something I needed to hear more than that.  That sentence from my counselor changed everything.  I’m still not exactly sure how, but my obsession with Eddie’s health, happiness and future, was making Eddie sicker, actually.

I’ve made a lot of dumb mistakes in my life.  I’m sorry for them all.  I’m especially sorry for making Eddie sicker.  I didn’t mean to do that.  This mistake of mine brings tears to my eyes, and fills my heart with regret. I wish I would have known.  But, some things you just can’t know until you know.

I make too many mistakes.  I know I do.  But, I also learn from them.  Once the counselor illuminated the truth, I grabbed it, and I held on to it.  I stopped.  I just stopped everything.  I stopped hovering, and planning, and calculating, and talking and obsessing.  I just quit it all, and quitting it was really hard.

Eddie was born tough.  He really was.  Both my sons are tough.  I’m not bragging.  It doesn’t have anything to do with me. Tough is how God chose to make these two.  My sons like to do battle.  When our boys were pretty little, they’d go down in the basement with Scott,  and their toy swords.  For a half hour or more, I’d hear yelling, laughing and loud THWAPS.    All three boys would eventually emerge upstairs laughing, looking like they had the time of their lives.  All three of them had raised, red welts all over their skin.  See?  Now, I think that is absurd, but boys are weird.  And stuff like that makes me 100 percent sure I’m not one of them.

Eddie likes to do battle.  He’s good at it.  Eddie is resilient and focused, and he won’t go down easy.  He’s much closer to being a man than he is to being a little boy now.  He’s so much better at doing battle than I am. It’s time I let him do it.

Eddie is feeling significantly better than he was last year.  He looks better too.  I’m not sure what’s happening.  We did so many things, maybe one of those things worked like magic.  Or, maybe Eddie is just growing up and away from this thing.  Or, maybe God just decided it was the right time for a reprieve. Or, maybe Eddie is just so much better at battling things on his own.  I don’t know, and I don’t care.  Wait. that’s not true.  I do care, and I would like to know.  But, not knowing does not lower my inner happy.  My inner happy is through.the.roof.

I guess you wouldn’t know how good it feels to come up for air, if you were never drowning.  Pain, sickness and hardships make peace so, so much sweeter.  I’m thankful for that.  I don’t know what tomorrow holds, but I’m embracing today.  I’m happy.

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