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A tale of two sisters

A tale of two sisters

I haven’t written about my sister since she died. (I cannot even express how hard that sentence was to write. I had to stop writing because I couldn’t catch my breath.) I don’t know why I haven’t talked about her. Writing was how I processed everything when my Mom died. But with my sister? It’s just not there. The words. The feelings are there. It’s like someone took hundreds of LiteBrite pieces and threw them on the floor. Where once there was a bright, beautiful picture of my sister and me, there’s now just a jumbled pile of faded, dull pieces of plastic that have no rhyme or reason. No light behind them. I know I have to pick up those pieces. Some people say I can make a new image with them. One where I shine for both of us. But seriously, how do you make half of a Lite Brite shine? I want to take every damn piece and hurl it across the room. It doesn’t work without both of us. Suggesting it would is ridiculous. It will never shine as it did before. Never. The whole damn Lite Brite has been shattered beyond repair.

So, how do I find a new reality? How do I find a new me without her?

I wish there were a name for someone who loses their sibling. If you lose your parents, you are an orphan. If you lose your husband, you’re a widow. If you lose your sister, you are … lost? Alone? Sisterless? She was my person.

There were times she would withdraw into herself and not return texts or phone calls, and it would piss me off. Oh, that would piss me off so much! And she heard about it. But, you see, I did that, too. And we always came back to each other and talked about things. That’s the thing. We always came back to each other.

We used to send each other quotes or songs that reminded us of each other. Sometimes they were funny. Sometimes they were meant to say “I see you and I am here.” Sometimes they were just “Hey! Get me this on Amazon.” (Not much of the latter one because we didn’t have that kind of money but it was fun. I was very close to getting that T-Rex costume I want.) It was our way of always staying connected through the good times and the bad. It was our way of reminding one another that we had each other’s backs. For life.

When we were young

I could never imagine “for life” would be cut so short.

The turning point in our relationship was when I asked her to be the maid of honor at my wedding. She was shocked. Her initial response was to ask if I wouldn’t rather have a friend or someone closer to me fill that role. When I told her that was exactly who she was and I couldn’t imagine anyone else, well, I think that was the first time in as long as I could remember that she hugged me- without trying to strangle me down in a wrestling hold. A real hug. It was the best feeling in the world. It marked the transition from dueling sisters to real friends.

Oh, and as friends, we did have fun. I am sure we were responsible for my Dad’s grey hair and the hair he lost. We tended to revert a bit to giggling kids when we got together. Once our funny bone was tapped, we were gone. Everything was going to be funny. Family get-togethers? Forget about it! We weren’t going to check how much longer something had to cook or if we had enough clean dishes for the crew. Nope. We had to leave the room to laugh at something. To express the ridiculousness of something that happened or was said. Sometimes it was just because we needed to laugh and wanted some sister time.

I still laugh about one of the times she visited me for an extended time. It was a full house. All three of my kids. Both of her boys. Me and my husband. And Chelle. Well, if you know anything about me or my family, you can well imagine we didn’t have a quiet house. (Still, one of my greatest joys when it’s a full, loud house.) There were boys peacock calling each other from one end of the house to the other. Two of the kids playing a very intense Wii game. The Dobie loving the action with an occasion bark. One kid watching TV. I’m just walking through the house trying to talk over it while I am trying to clean the kitchen or grab laundry or bark orders to one group of kids or another. Well, there Michelle sat on the couch flipping through a People magazine as calm as can be and said, “Boy is your house loud.” Never looking up (and her voice never above a normal conversational tone) and just went right on reading her magazine. It struck me at that moment it was the perfect Jenn vs Michelle moment. I’m swimming through the chaos not even noticing it was loud and chaotic while she was very aware and totally unflappable (and slightly amused) by it.

We were best friends. We had a relationship no one in this world was privy to. We had a bond that no one in this world had. We had secrets that no one in this world will ever know. She and I had something that I will never have with anyone else in this world. No one knows what we had because it was ours. No one. Because that’s what sisters do for each other. They carry each others’ secrets, share each others’ joys, and share each others’ burdens. No one can know one hundred percent about another person and I don’t claim to here. We weren’t perfect but we were pretty damn good sisters to each other.

I don’t know how to do this. I have picked up the phone more than once to call her and tell her about the latest thing I found on Amazon. Or the latest celebrity gossip. Or the calls I go to make when I need her the most. When I am hurting. When I am scared about life changes. When I need to talk to her about our kids in college and how much we miss them. Or to cry over a really hard situation we should be helping each other through but that I am now navigating all alone.

And the phone call that is the worst of the worst, when the only person I want to talk to and the only person who knows me the way she did, the person who could help me through my pain is the one phone call I want to make to make the most. I want to talk about how much it hurts that my sister died. And how hard it is. And how fucking hard it is to breathe sometimes because I cannot imagine this world without her. She was my person. She would know what to say. If she didn’t, she would at least talk to me and help me through it. She would be with me. And now? She is the only person who can never help me through this and it sucks. It is the hardest thing I have ever had to deal with in my life.

This hurts. Oh, my sweet lord, this hurts. Unlike anything. And I know I will never be the person I was before she died. There is “before Jenn” and “after Jenn” and my job is to make sure that I find a way to make “after Jenn” have a life that means something. For her. For me. For all of us that were left behind.

But for now? I’m going to have to try to figure out what that picture looks like. I don’t know how. But I will. In time.

When your passion clashes with your prison

When your passion clashes with your prison

Writing is my passion. It always has been.  It doesn’t matter what you ask me to write about, I’ll love it. College was an oasis of wonder for me. I loved writing essays. I loved to challenge the status quo or argue a point or share what I thought on a topic. And when they dropped creative writing in my lap, I practically melted on my keyboard. But wait. Then later on people started paying me *in real cash money to write. I was published in several publications and  even in a couple of books. When an agent came to me (yes-she came to me) asking for a query and signed me with her agency? I died, went to heaven, made St. Peter slap me upside the head and came back to do more writing. I love it that much.

And then came the chronic daily headaches. And the migraines. And the bone crushing fatigue. Those are not good conditions for writing. In fact, it’s like I’m in prison with these health issues when it comes to my beloved passion and that isn’t fair. In fact it sucks. Someone recommended I try Dragon or another voice to text app but that isn’t the same. It’s not the fingers flying over the keyboard. Or the rush you get when you almost feel like you are no longer in the driver’s seat because the words are flowing so fast the story has taken over and your hands are merely the method to bring the story to life. Now, when I write for a long time, I pay the price in pain. My head. My eyes. My joints. I’m being literal here. I literally pay a physical price to write every word on this blog.

Oh, but what a beautiful price it is. I love writing so much. I love every thing about it. It is truly my passion. So when you see a blog post from me, know that is truly a labor of love. I wrote it from the prison my body locked me in and I refuse to let it hold me back. Words. My words. My stories. I won’t stop. This is my passion. My love. The one thing I know will always be soothe me even when it hurts me.

Find your happy place

Find your happy place

When you have so much going on or you are pulled in so many directions or (like me) you are knocked on your ass by health issues, if nothing else I have learned you must find your happy place and find some peace. Now, I know that most people have a physical happy place they want to go to find peace but that isn’t always possible. So, figure out where your mental happy place is. I’ve found peace in music. Sometimes it’s lyrics that speak to me. Sometimes it’s the rhythm. Sometimes I just get lost in the past with those golden oldies from the 80’s. But, ohhhh, when I need to work out angst or I am up and around and having a “hell yeah I’m doing things today” kind of day, I get my groove on. And at my age and with all the other crap I deal with on a daily basis, I truly don’t care what anyone else thinks.

One of my favorite things is car dancing. My daughter and I are huge car dancers. Don’t worry, I’m safe about it. The thing about not giving a damn about what anyone else thinks, you can usually pass your joy along to someone else. Maybe they smile and give you a thumbs up. Maybe they are laughing their ass off at you. Maybe their day sucked and when they glanced over and saw us totally getting our groove on to some random song that we liked and our funky groove movement were all in sync, and that made them laugh. Win/win.

Just find what makes you happy and do it. And don’t give a damn what people think. Just find your happy place inside yourself and let it loose. Dance in your underwear. Sing at the top of your lungs. Jog like Phoebe and look like a fool. Just do it and don’t bother with what other people think. Because you are too busy being happy in your happy place. And when you’re there? It is contagious. I promise  you’ll make other people smile or laugh (even if it is at you) or even want to join you. The most important part of this is to find your happy place because we all need to retreat from the chaos and craziness that is life. Don’t wait until you are overwhelmed. Dust off you happy place. Give it a spit shine and air it out. It’s time to visit it more often. You need to take care of you. Yes, YOU.

And kids, that’s why you shouldn’t be an asshole like I was

And kids, that’s why you shouldn’t be an asshole like I was

In case this isn’t permanently written on all of your calendars, this is my birthday  month. More specifically, on Saturday, the 7th. You still have time to shop. But it’s okay to be late because you have all month.

Actually, this birthday is kind of  a big deal to me. No, it isn’t a big number birthday or one that anyone else would evenn give a second thought. In truth, I’ve only told one person about why this birthday not only has me on edge but why I want to make it special. Because of all of that, she and I made plans to celebrate it together. We started these plans many months ago.

I can’t tell you how excited I was. Not just because I was going to spend my birthday with one of my closest friends but because she understood me and didn’t laugh when I told her why this birthday meant something to me. Just a couple of weeks out, I was finalizing flight plans etc. and texting back and forth to make sure it would all work out. (We were waiting on word from work.) Well, you know how they say “Make plans and God laughs”? Well, he was down right rolling in tears with this one. (I mean, hell, we’ve been trying this for  years.)  While I was about to book my ticket,  she texted me and said it would just be better for me to not come at all.

My heart shattered right there on the spot. I spent two days crying. I felt at the moment like I became the expendible friend.  So easily tossed aside rather than one you want around when you need someone.  It just hurt on many levels. I felt like I lost my best friend. (Other factors contributed, too. But, this felt like the final demotion.) And  you know what it actually made me? A totally and complete asshole.

Yes, I was the absolute and total asshole here. You see, she has been living in crisis mode for…well… months. Trying to take care of everyone. Pulled in so many directions, I don’t even know how she is still standing.  I’ve never met someone stonger with so much compassion in my life. She’s the friend every one wishes they had. And what did I do? I spent two days crying thinking of only myself and how I might be effected. See? Total asshole.  That’s not what  you do to the people  you love. You just don’t treat  your people that way. I am sorry. So sorry. There are times I can hardly breathe it hurts so much that I  hurt a relationship so  much. But you just can’t take some things back. We have barely spoken since then. Life is busy. Plans change. Health and work and family and life take over and before you know it, it has been weeks since you’ve talked.

myperson

So, in short (Ha! Nothing is short with my writing.) I let down a friend by being an asshole when she needed me because I was thinking of myself. And now? Now I have to pick up the pieces and hope we’ll be okay. It’s going to take time.  And that sucks.

The moral of the story, take a step back, take a deep breath, and look at both sides of what is going on before you act like an asshole or you may hurt one of the most precious relationships you have. Don’t be me, kiddos!

It’s just a peacock call. Relax.

It’s just a peacock call. Relax.

When my boys were young- and I mean really, really young–  they found a very unique way of calling each other when they wanted to talk to or find the other. In fact, I don’t remember a time when they didn’t do this. It was startling at first. You see, one would let out the bellow of a peacock call and from somewhere in the depths of the back of the house you could hear the sound of the other one returning the call. Sometimes it would stop then. Other times if it was really important like an online game or a funny video, the calls would go back and forth until they were  in the same room. At the young age that it started, I don’t know how they picked it up. I have heard that it is deafening at cons like Quakecon but the boys had never been to something like that when they started their traditional tribal like call. Even my daughter picked it up rather young.

It became normal in the house. It was, however, hilarious when we had guests. We were used to it. Company? Not so much. Once when my sister had been visiting, two days into her trip she look up from her magazine and sighed looking at me in defeat saying, “Your house is really loud.” I did what any frat house mom would do and burst out laughing. She’s right. And I love the noise.

One would think that would be something for the home only. But no. They find each other in public that way, too. In fact, to be honest, we all do.  A few years ago when we were at Disney in line for Space Mountain, they wanted to test the whole herd mentality business and started calling each other- while standing beside each other. Of course Gabby started in. Then their cousins. It wasn’t long before other people in the line started. Before we knew it, most of the people shoved in like sardines in line in a very echoing echo hell, were all doing the peacock call. I was doubled over laughing uncontrollably, legs crossed, trying not to pee my pants. My sister looked slightly horrified. My kids looked cocky with pride.  Gosh I adore my kids. They are pretty awesome. And always entertaining.

So if you are out and about and hear a peacock call, just return it. Chances are pretty good it’s one of my family. Or me. Find us and say howdy!

Let’s talk about Chronic Jenn

Let’s talk about Chronic Jenn

(Warning: This just may be the most boring post you’ll ever read from me. I just wanted to educate y’all before we move forward.)

One of the things that is going to change around here is the fact that my “babies” are grown up. I have a 20-something, a just about to be 20, and a high schooler. So, my days as a momblogger are fading. Their stories are theirs to tell. I’ll still share some of our family fun because, well, we aren’t the normal family. We are loud, sarcastic, (at times) inappropriate, and we have one helluva good time. There is too much fun to not share those family times.

However, when it comes to my stories, you’re going to hear more about my medical conditions. It’s not that I want to whine or gain symathy. I have a dog for that. You should just understand that every day, all day, every hour, every minute, I am effected by one or more of my chronic illnesses or syndromes or nasty little devils that make my life a living hell most days.

Pain

I won’t list everything I have going on because that will be the most boring post EVER. But the big three – or as I like to call them – the mighty triad that wants to kill me or least make me suffer. I really need a meaner sounding name for them, come to think of it.

Anyway, the chronic issues I am dealing with are:

Chronic daily headaches & chronic migraines (and their good friend cluster headaches). And yes that does mean every single day I have a headache at or above a pain level of 5 or above. That is a good day. I also have a minimum of 12 migraines a month. A good month. Those are just examples. It can be worse. It is rarely better unless I have been in the hospital and they have medicated it down to a zero pain level. That usually takes about 9 days of nonstop IVs.

Fibrmyalgia is along for the ride. I don’t even know how to explain all of what fybromyalgia does. But I can share what I go through with this.

  • Chronic muscle pain or spasms (like having the flu all the time, 24/7)
  • Severe fatigue (Again like the flu. You need a nap after a shower.)
  • Insomia (which is a bitch seeing as you are so fatigued but sleep is not going to happen)
  • Your body feels all kinds of stiff when you first wake up. (Feel like I’m Rice Krispies with the snap, crackle, and pops going on.)
  • The awful “fibro fog” where I have retention of Dory from finding Nemo (Feel free to call me Dory. Seriously, my retention is horrible a lot of the time.)
  • Migraines (YIPPEE) and tension headaches. (YAY)
  • Feeling anxious  (Me? Yep!) or depressed (Duh)
  • Tingling in the face, arms, hands, legs, or feet (Too often to count. Like the pins & needles when your foot goes to sleep)
  • Exercise kicks my ass (even more than before)
  • (And the one no one talks about) GUILT  Seeing as it is an invisible illness, I am always apologizing or feeling guilty if I have to nap or not go out with the family. Guilt sucks.

Now Lupus is the one I know the least about because it scares me the most. I realize that is not the wisest route to go, but that’s me. I am  very aware of the chronic headaches, migraines, and cluster headaches and I do know my fybromyalgia but when it comes to Lupus I can only tell you a few things.

With Lupus, I know my ANA is very high. (Meaning the my good cells are really awesome at kicking my own body’s butt.) What I do know that has shown up:

  • Fatigue (Like with fibro, it is worse than the flu)
  • Fever with no explanation (I wake up every day with one and have one many nights)
  • The butterfly rash on my face (So not a big fan of this)
  • Hair loss (It’s bad enough that I see grey popping in. I don’t need to lose what I have.)
  • Swollen joints (I mean it is seriously hard to put a bra on, people.)
  • Dry mouth & eyes (I literally never leave home without a water bottle and eye drops.)
  • Kidney issues (This is also a side effect of all of my meds. Need the meds, need the kidneys.)
  • Gastro issues- (Like reflux so bad it is burning my vocal cords and changing my voice)

So, there you have it. That is a day in the life of Chronic Jenn. Anyone want to switch? Nah! There is no one I would ever wish this upon. I take it upon myself before I’d ever wish it on someone else. I’ve got this. I’m kind of a badass now.