Category Archives: Family Therapy

Multiple Sclerosis and What REALLY Matters

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Every single day I wake up to a new world – and it has nothing to do with my natural blonde self.  Living with multiple sclerosis is like living with most other life-altering diseases – you just do not know how you will feel from one day to the next.  I could wake up with a migraine, with spasms in my feet, with numbness or tingling in my face or hands, unable to walk, etc.  It’s a daily unknown, and we are on a constant vigil to be sure to document anything new that happens and what I am doing, eating, drinking, etc. so I can properly explain it to my list of doctors.  There has only been one day in the past 13+ months when I have not experienced dizzy spells throughout the day, and to date we still do not know if this is related to the MS or not.  There is no normal, and anyone who has MS will tell you the same.  Stress is really the biggest issue that causes the most symptoms and I try to avoid it at all costs because the symptoms usually end with me in the bed trying to recover.

The one thing I will never, ever take for granted anymore is love.  Oh my goodness, have I seen love in its rawest of forms from some of the most wonderful people even moreso since my diagnosis – some who I already knew who loved me, some who expressed it before but express it more often now and some who I had no idea even gave me a second thought.  And it’s not just love for me, it’s love for my family, too.  Love for our well being, love for all of our health and welfare.  Love just BECAUSE.

I do not remember my parents telling me they loved me.  Some may dispute this fact, but it is not in my memory bank.  I know my Gramma from Tramma loved me, as she’d say, “I love ya doll.”  I always thought I was so very special when she said that, until I heard her tell her best friend the same thing one night when I dropped her off at her favorite pub.  hehe  I have had a number of family members say they loved me, but before I truly learned what love was with my brother, I probably didn’t understand what “love” meant.  At least not unconditional love.  That was when I realized how much my love with my Gramma from Tramma meant to me, even though her love sustained me for so very long through the good, the bad and the ugly.

Now, after a nearly 20 year relationship with an extremely loving husband that has produced four amazingly loving children, I can honestly say love easily flows from my heart and lips.  It is said with emotion and comes directly from my soul.  I have no problem loving, despite shutting off my emotions in order to cope with a very difficult childhood.

My special aunt has told me I am very loyal, even if someone hurts me.  I suppose that is true, though I haven’t really thought about it much.  I will say that if I am hurt enough, I will close the door on a relationship (after some serious prayer and contemplation) without a second thought.  I do not want myself or my family involved in toxic relationships – it is not worth it to put my children in any type of hurt of that type.  It is my job as a parent to protect them, and I will do so to the best of my ability.  I do know that my children have not met many members of my extended family because I want to shelter them from my past.  It may be that those who have hurt those I care about a long time ago have changed and would not cause pain anymore, but I am not willing to put my kids in harm’s way on the chance that they will be hurt.  When they are adults, if they choose to search out the extended family, I will point them in the direction and explain how they are related to them.  My past pain is just that, in the past.  They know enough to know what happened to me and for now, all they want to do is to protect their mommy from further pain.  For now, it is the most loving thing a Mom could ask for from her children.

My third foster mother recently told me I have some of the best coping skills she has ever seen for a child who went through as much as I did.  I have to thank her family and my aunt and uncle for that, because out of all of the chaos surrounding my childhood – they were the ones who brought any semblance of normalcy to my life.  Both when I lived with them when I was growing up and a whole lot as I have continued to mature.  A counselor helped along the way, too.  And love.  Always love.  Sometimes tough love.  Sometimes distant love.  But, always love.

Today, love drives me.  Love makes me get out of bed every morning.  Love for God my Father.  Love for my family, who needs me to be the wife, the Mother, the daughter-in-law.  Love for my best friend from fourth grade, who I surprised on her birthday last July and made her cry in church because she didn’t know I was coming.  Love for my cousin, who drove me around and we got girl-time together for a whole weekend without her parental intrusion.  Love from my quilt group, who welcomed me with open arms and told me repeatedly how much they missed me since I’d been avoiding them for six months because the meetings make me dizzy.  Love for my foster mother who continues to treat me as one of her own children, even though I was but a mere placement through the foster care system.  The list goes on and on – but, there are so many who love and whom I love.  SO many with hearts and arms wide open.

Love is what makes living with MS bearable.  It is the only thing that matters in this big ole’ hard-nosed world.  I will no longer spend time on things that do not bring happiness and love to my world and my family.  I will repeat the golden rule my Gramma from Tramma tried to drill into five headstrong and independent kids:  Treat others as you want to be treated.

LIVE

LOVE

LAUGH

BFF Brother, My Love Continues…Now Pick Up the Phone!

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Today would have been my brother Mike’s 49th birthday.  I’m sure I would have made a very big deal out of it.  Black balloons.  A black frosted cake.  Black candles.  I would have gone all out to show him that he was fixin’ to cross the line into old age – as next year, he would have been the big 5-0.

I never got the chance to do that.  I lost him, as did his wife, his other family, his other brothers, and a host of friends who loved him.  He died of a brain aneurysm at the age of 34.  DOA.  My world, and those who loved him, changed forever.

But, aside from his wife – I daresay, I loved him more than life itself.  He became my best friend forever in a few short years.  My brother, in every sense of the word.  He was my world – he and his wife, and eventually my boyfriend’s (and now husband) and first daughter’s.  I would have done anything for him, and he for me.  We were two peas in a pod.  Torn apart by family and circumstances, but reunited by love and our desire to create a relationship that no one was a part of aside from his wife.  My sister-in-law Trickie was the only one who truly knew the depth of my relationship with Mike.  And I know I will never, ever have a brother that can give as much as Mike gave of his heart to me, and graciously accept as much as I accepted so unconditionally.

I recall one weekend when we decided we would head from their home in New Franklin, Missouri and travel to Branson, Missouri.  I worked at a honky tonk and usually finished up my work around 2 am.  We decided I’d drive over to pick them up after I got off work and we would burn the midnight oil and drive to a campground, pitch a tent, sleep a few hours, then hit Silver Dollar City and all the hot spots of tourist fun for a couple of days.  I had been practicing with a stick-shift so I could drive his truck, and since I was usually wide awake after work, he would sleep and his wife would keep me company.  Seemed like a good plan to us at the time.

What he failed to teach me in my driving lessons was that you were supposed to push the clutch in every single time you shifted gears.  Who knew???  He was sound asleep in the back seat of his truck and Trickie and I were chatting along.  We were on the highway between Sedalia, Missouri and Branson – which if you’ve ever drove that road, is just one long hill after another.  I knew to shift to a lower gear going down the hill and a higher gear going up the hill.  I had this one in the bag.

Until I started grinding the gears and he sat straight up out of the back seat and wondered what in the heck I was doing to his truck!

I had no clue, so I recreated my steps and explained what I was doing.  Then I felt like a total idiot because he was laughing so hard, he couldn’t tell me what I was doing wrong.  I’m sure I used words that would singe the hair on a man’s chest – but, when he finally calmed down (probably during the next grinding of the gears), he explained the CORRECT process of how to downshift to me.   OHHHHHH, TWO feet needed to be in play at the same time – clutch and accelerator!  Gee, why didn’t he give me those words of wisdom while he was giving me lessons???

I never did live that faux paus down – but, he didn’t allow me to drive his truck again, either <grin>.

I don’t care how many people want to claim him as their best friend, their brother, their son or their guardian angel since his passing.  His widow and I know the truth – and that is that Mike and I had something special, and he will forever be my best friend forever brother.  We were meant to find each other in our adulthood – and I truly believe God allowed us to be together to help show us what unconditional love truly meant, and that despite all the obstacles in our way, love is the only thing that matters in our messed up world.

Happy heavenly birthday brother.  I just wish the next time I have a hankering to call you, that you’d just pick that darned phone up and let me hear your voice one last time.

Giving Thanks Through Grace

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Our youngest daughter’s name is Grace – and she brought home an adorable “thanks” craft she made in school.  After she “let” me take photos of it, she ran it up to her grandmother’s house so it could be the Thanksgiving decorations while we dine on Thursday.

We are, despite a rough year, still Giving Thanks through Grace!

Time to Be a Kid Again!

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Right next to my office shed is the children’s play area at their grandma’s house.  There is an old swing set that has had the seats replaced many, many times just since I came into the family nearly 20 years ago:

And there’s also this wonderful sand pile, which lies under a homemade tire swing chained to a beautiful oak tree that is definitely made for climbing:

But, alas, my kids are almost too old to play here.  Oh, sometimes our youngest two will jump on the swings (notice the height difference in them – which accounts for our tall son and our shorter daughter), but usually only when I am in my office and they are needing my attention.

I come to my office daily, multiple times a day.  I see those lonely toys that our kids have spent countless hours playing on in the past – and I feel bad for them!  I walked over there today, and enjoyed pushing the swings, touching the tree and looking at the tracks in the sand made by the last yellow construction toy drove through.  The memories, the giggles, the cities that were made and destroyed and the siblings and cousins who enjoyed their play and budding friendships.  All of these things from a few inanimate objects in our yard.

All of these things started with love – just as a quilt does.  I think I’d like to be that kind of kid again, if just for a little while.  And I’d like to still see my kids being those precious kids again, for as long as they want to.