An Open Thank You Letter To Mick Jagger

Mr. Jagger,

I’ve just read the news of Gregg Allman’s death. He was 69 years old. I’m pretty sure you knew him, especially through your association with Chuck Leavell, so I’d like to say that I’m sorry for your loss.

His passing made me immediately think of you. Though you are my favorite musician/performer of all time, I have never written you a fan letter to let you know how much you and your music has meant to me.

I truly believe that if someone has affected your life in a positive way or has meant something to you, that you should always let them know. Life is too short to hold in our feelings or praise. Hearing of the passing of your good friend David Bowie, of Glenn Frey and of Chris Cornell has made this task more urgent. I wouldn’t want to ever regret not telling you how I feel, I would never want you to wonder if you ever truly made a difference in a fan’s life.

I’m here to tell you that you have.

I have no connection to you other than through your music. I am not your greatest fan. I have never met you. I have only seen The Rolling Stones tour twice, due to budget constraints and then illness. But for 47 years your music has been a constant in my life. It has been a warm blanket when my life was painted black. It has seen me through tough high school years, wild times at college, divorce, marriage, miscarriages, birth and chronic illness. It is the one thing I have always been able to count on, it is the soundtrack of my life.

Your soulful voice and lyrics, whether from The Stones or your solo work, is as real as it gets. It’s also as good as it gets. Life is not a top 40 dance-able track. It takes us to many dark places, and through many difficult winding paths. From Staten Island, New York to sweet Virginia, you have laid the foundation and follow me wherever I go.

I am lucky to not be waiting on a friend anymore, for I have found a great partner in my husband. His thick wispy longish brown hair, slender figure, and beautiful blue eyes are reminiscent of you, my first man crush.

I can always hear your voice echo in the distance, from the realization that wild horses couldn’t drag me away from my one true love, to the joy of my children’s birth, to sitting and watching life’s tragedies as tears go by. Your music has played through it all.

Whenever I succeeded, or whenever I fell – you were always there. From eight-tracks, to albums, to CD’s, to Pandora, you help comfort and lift me up like no other performer. When I walk in Central Park, to when I seem like I’m 2000 Light Years from Home due to my persistent anxiety, you remain my companion. You help me drift away and get lost in a sea of melodies that soothe my often aching body and soul.

Though I know that you will probably never see this letter, it makes me feel good to write it. I think that we should all do good things and thank many people with no expectations. Some girls really know you, some girls really love you, this girl really appreciates you and the way your music makes me feel. Joyful, unburdened, free, passionate and alive. I will always be a wild teenager when I hear Start Me Up, tell no lies when I walk through a field of Dandelions, and when time is not on my side, I will sit and watch my children doing all the things I used to do with a smile.

Seeing you and The Stones was and always will be one of my favorite memories. I will never forget the anticipation I felt as we drove from Plattsburgh, NY to Shea Stadium back in 89′. I will never forget the butterflies I felt as you approached the stage. I will never forget the adrenaline I felt as your face was projected on the big stadium screens. I will never forget the happiness I felt hearing you sing live.

You will never be just a memory to me. You will always be a talented man who enhanced my life, and made me realize my love of music. Your voice and songs will always be a part of me, and I hope a part of my children.

I want you to know how much you have meant to me, how much you still mean to me. You have helped me get through many tough times, you helped me dance in the street.

I hope that you live many more happy years just like your father Joe. I hope that you are surrounded by the love of your beautiful children, and that you never run out of time to keep showing them how much you care.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for all you have given to me and to the world.

Thank you for helping me realize that though God may not have given me everything I want, he gave me everything I need.

Sincerely,

Kathy, a girl with a mind and a blog of her own

The Messiness of Life

This morning while I was cooking bacon, I heard my son shout “Mama, I wiped my own hiney!” This immediately set off alarm bells, and sent me into panic mode, because I haven’t finished training my son how to do this task. Due to years of battling life-threatening illnesses, I am just now teaching him this skill that he should have mastered years ago.

I left the comfort of the kitchen, where the aroma of bacon, and the sounds of Stevie Nicks filled the air. I entered the bathroom where a landslide of shit was everywhere!

I didn’t know where to start. My son held up his poop ridden hands and proudly smiled and said “I did it all by myself.” The half of me that’s in surgical menopause wanted to yell “why didn’t you call me to help you?” The other half of me wanted to burst out laughing. I settled for somewhere in the middle.

As I was cleaning him and the bathroom, I thought life sure is messy.

When you have children you face years of cleaning up poop, puke and pee. It doesn’t end after the toddler years, for many stomach viruses and bouts of the flu await. There are many untidy rooms, dirty dishes, and piles of laundry to contend with.

When you are pregnant no one tells you this. No one tells you that you will spend countless hours scrubbing stains, tiles and tushes. You will perform many thankless tasks and sometimes feel really pissed off about it, and that’s okay. You have permission to be angry, and to commiserate with your friends.

I realized as I was sanitizing poop kingdom that I was truly blessed. I have two wonderful kids to clean up after. Kids who come to me when they need help and tender loving care. Kids whose eyes light up when they see me. Kids who look up to me, and who depend upon me to teach them the skills necessary to succeed in life. Kids whom I adore, poop and all.

When I was finished with the purging of the poop, I replayed ‘Landslide.’ I listened to Stevie sing ‘you climb a mountain, and you turn around.’

I think of how I will clean a mountain of my children’s filth and then turn around- and someday it will all be gone.

My kids will move out of my house and move on. They will take their messes, and my heart with them.

And I will be left reminiscing, and longing for the days of poop, puke and pee for the rest of my life.

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

I Am Not A Great Mom Right Now

As I sit here writing this, my two children are asleep next to me on our giant couch. They barely ever make it to their own beds in their messy rooms, in our messy little house. We are currently living a messy life, and I am not a great mom right now.

It has taken me awhile to admit this. I dreamed of being a perfect mom, with the sweetness of Caroline Ingalls, the brilliance of Claire Huxtable, and the cooking skills of Martha Stewart. But truth be told, I’m becoming more and more like a chronically ill Roseanne.

I always thought I’d be an awesome mom, and I was doing okay during the first few years of my daughter’s life until I was struck hard by illness and other circumstances. I had to suffer through a bad car accident and bruised ribs, five miscarriages, gall bladder surgery, Interstitial Cystitis, Endometriosis, severe PMDD, Fibromyalgia, frequent pneumonia due to asthma, Chronic Lyme Disease, multiple bilateral life-threatening blood clots on my lungs, panic attacks and anxiety.

I am so fortunate to have survived all of these things, but I can feel the dream of being an amazing mom slowly fading away. The stress of being in pain and chronically ill has taken its toll.

Like tiny grains of sand sliding down an hourglass, I am very aware of time slipping away. I realize that I can’t reverse the hourglass, I can only catch some grains of sand before it’s too late.

I can’t bring back the things my children have missed out on, I can only provide them with some new things to look forward to.

I may not be able to show them how to keep a perfect house, but I can show them how to be good people.

I may not be able to show them how to run a marathon, but I can show them how to leave beautiful footprints in the sand.

My family is everything to me. Though I am disappointed that I am not able to be a great mom right now, I will never stop trying to be one.

I will be the best mom that I can be at this moment, and share the best parts of me when I am able to.

When I glide around the ice skating rink with my daughter, I hope she remembers the glow in my eyes as I looked at her. My heart melts when she is near.

When I go bowling with my son, I hope he remembers how proud of him I was after he knocked down a few pins. How proud I will always be.

I hope they remember all of the good times we shared, and all of the magical memories we created like when we visited Disney World. Our trip there was the greatest trip of my life, and I will cherish it forever.

I hope they learn a valuable lesson from me about how when life drags you down, you must keep going and be the best that you can be.

I realize now that there is no such thing as a perfect mom. We all experience the ebb and flow of life and of parenthood. We must accept the fact that there are times that we will not be terrific moms. We must learn to accept life’s quirks, perks and failures. They will help shape who we are. They will make us stronger.

I remember holding both of my children for the first time. Those brief moments were the most powerful of my life. It is when I learned what true love was, it is when I became a mom. It is when I made a promise to my sweet little babes that I would love, protect and care for them for as long as I was alive.

I may not be a great mom right now, but I hope that when my children look back on their childhood, they will see that I kept my promise, and that I loved them with all of my heart.

And hopefully they will remember that love for the rest of their lives.

 

 

 

 

 

The Phone Call

On September 25, 2016 I was diagnosed with Multiple Bilateral Pulmonary Emboli. It was one of the scariest days of my life. I have been suffering from many chronic illnesses for twenty years now, but I was never given a life-threatening diagnosis before. I have faced many rough days, and have spent many nights awake with fear, but this hit me the hardest. I didn’t know how I was going to deal with this information.

I usually work through difficult situations by writing blogs and poetry. This was new territory for me though. I never had to write about a life-threatening situation that I was in the middle of. This was not fiction, or a distant memory, this was happening now, and writing about it would make it all too real. I had to try to distance myself from it in order to survive. I had to try to forget that there are currently blood clots all over my lungs which could kill me in an instant. Which could take me away from my family, this beautiful Earth, and all that I love. This time was different. I tried to distract myself, I tried to keep busy, I tried to rest, I fought to get through the day.

I am sorry to all of you who are currently facing life-threatening diseases or illnesses. I now know how you feel in my own way in regards to what I am facing. I can’t know exactly how you feel or what you are going through, but I wish you hope, strength and lots of love.

I was told that I would have to take blood thinners for up to six months. I am extremely sensitive to medications and was not able to tolerate the pill forms of Eliquis or Coumadin. I was able to tolerate Lovenox in the hospital so my hematologist agreed to let me take it though it wasn’t the normal protocol.

My husband who is a registered nurse injected me twice daily with this life saving medication. It prevents the existing clots from getting bigger, and it prevents new clots from being formed. The shots in the stomach are painful, and have left my entire abdomen bruised and tender. I bruise and bleed very easily now and have to avoid doing anything that could result in bad injury, especially to the head. Some people do fine on the blood thinners, but since I’m so sensitive it has been very difficult for me to stay on them. I have asthma, Chronic Lyme Disease and anxiety and this medication has made all of these conditions worse. I feel strange, dizzy, nauseous and not like myself. My life has been put on hold these past four and a half months and I haven’t been able to enjoy much. I’ve barely gone anywhere besides to take my children to school.

I have not been able to write much due to my anxiety, and the fact that I feel like I can’t put into words what I’m going through until it’s over. I’m so paralyzed with fear, that I can’t think clearly. I have many trapped words in my head waiting to be out of their prison. I look forward to the day when they flow freely, dancing around the page, unencumbered, raw and beautiful.

Though I’m so grateful and lucky to be alive, I can’t wait to truly live again.

And that brings me to the phone call.

Yesterday, I had a CT  Lung Angiogram with contrast. This test will allow the radiologist to see if all of my blood clots are gone. This test will let me know whether or not I can have my life back. This test will let me know if I can breathe again, with less anxiety, and more joy. With more happiness and fun times for my family, a family I have woefully neglected for a very long time. I’ve been sad, scared and angry for too long. I pray I get the chance to make it up to them.

My hematologist is supposed to be calling me today with the results. I jump each time the phone rings. My heart starts beating very rapidly like the Tell Tale Heart. Will I be free, or left with its maddening heartbeat?

And so I wait, and in between taking and picking up my children from school, I will hope, I will pray, I will try to believe that I deserve some good news.

Let’s hope it comes soon.

The Incredible Fall: My story of Pulmonary Embolism.

I love the Fall.

It is my favorite season, one I look forward to all year long. I couldn’t wait for it this year especially. I would be fully recovered from my surgery, and ready to make wonderful memories with my family. Apple picking, pumpkin picking, Fall Festivals, long walks, birthdays and Halloween fun.

I had a rough summer, facing the turmoil of severe PMDD, and a major surgery. I couldn’t wait to be healed and get a long awaited break.

And then it happened.

I was walking my daughter to her school which is very close to our house, when I could barely breathe, and the left side of my chest hurt. My chest felt a heaviness I’ve never felt before, and my heart was beating rapidly. I felt lightheaded and scared but hid it from my daughter while I whispered goodbye.

Little did I know at the time that it could have been my last goodbye to her. My sweet precious girl.

One third of people who have not been diagnosed or treated for pulmonary embolism will die. Wow. That statistic just hit me like a ton of bricks. I have to take a moment to recover.

I walked home with my five year old son very slowly. A walk which usually takes five minutes took about twenty. I called my husband and said something was wrong and that I needed to go to the emergency room right after he dropped off our son at school. My son who is now six years old. My son who still needs me to teach him so many new things such as how to live a full, safe life with severe food allergies. My precious boy who still calls me Mama, and falls asleep by my side each night before bed.

Though I was very nervous and having trouble breathing, I really thought I had pneumonia and pleurisy again. As someone with asthma and many chronic illnesses, I get sick very easily.

I was given a bed and an IV very quickly. Soon after they gave me a full blood panel.

I was completely shocked and taken off guard when the ER doctor told me that he had good news and bad news.

My gaze fell to the floor as I tried to hold back tears.

The way that he said it scared the hell out of me. It didn’t seem like the usual I’m about to tell you that you have pneumonia look.

Bad news? I immediately thought of cancer, and of some other horrible possibilities.

The doctor told me that my D-dimer test was high and that they would have to admit me to the hospital. I thought what the hell is a D-dimer test? I quickly found out that a D-dimer test is a test which measures blood clot risk. I had never heard of it before but it is a very valuable diagnostic tool, one which started the doctors on the path to saving my life.

The good news was that I would get my own room at the hospital very quickly and be able to get a CT scan to see if there were indeed blood clots somewhere. I was immediately given the blood thinner Lovenox through my IV. Blood thinners work to prevent existing clots from growing, and toward preventing new ones from forming. I was given an echo-cardiogram and Doppler Ultrasound of my legs. Thankfully, those tests were fine.

I had never had a blood clot before, but had a few of the risk factors including supplemental estrogen from birth control pills, recent surgery and bed rest. According to the Mayo Clinic, some other risk factors may include pregnancy, cancer, heart disease, smoking, long trips, and being overweight (especially in women who smoke or have high blood pressure.)

I knew there were some risk factors from taking birth control pills, especially the Yaz pills that I was taking for my PMDD. I also knew that my recent hysterectomy/oopherectomy held such risks. I took those risks willingly, never thinking that I, a woman in my 40’s who had never had a blood clot, would actually get one.

Well, welcome to my October surprise!

I was in the hospital for three days and the entire staff was warm, friendly and very knowledgeable. I hated being there for so long away from my family, and was very frightened. The nurses, assistants, nutritionists and doctors all helped me to feel like I wasn’t alone, in between my family visits. I joked with one of the staff and called her Nurse Ratched, every time she stuck a needle into my belly. My belly which is extremely sore and bruised from twice daily injections. My belly which once held my sweet babies is now a giant pin cushion. Brief pause as I imagine Hellraisers face imprinted on my belly. Ok, back to my belly, which may be in pain, but will be the place through which the medicine is placed, to help me live again.

I took a CT scan with contrast which diagnosed me with multiple bilateral pulmonary emboli. I will have to be on blood thinners for at least six months, and take many blood tests and scans. There are other blood thinners our there in pill form, but I reacted badly to them.

The recovery differs for each patient from a few weeks to many months or years. For me, it is taking a long time. I had just recovered from major surgery when I got my diagnosis. I was out of shape, and am now extra anxious due to my new medical condition. It has been hard to breathe, especially due to my asthma, and hard to walk far distances. I had some anxiety before, but now it is at an all time high. It is hard to get things done or leave the house on many days, but I must especially to exercise to aid my recovery, and prevent more blood clots from forming. I am currently on daily medication until the anxiety improves. I am hoping that it will soon, and that when I am off of blood-thinners in March that things will get as back to normal as they can.

I face a long, scary, anxiety provoking six months, but with the help of my family, friends and many doctors, I will get through this. I will keep taking baby steps, and pray I will not have more roadblocks on the way to full recovery. I will take it day by day. I will look at the faces of my children and my husband, and thank God I am still here. I will appreciate their beautiful faces even more now. I will try to show them how much I love them until my last breath. I will work harder to make a difference because this scare has taught me that my time here is limited.

Please learn the symptoms of pulmonary embolism and talk to friends and family about this important and dangerous condition. It can affect you no matter your sex, and risk factors increase with age. Discuss the risks of using birth control pills with your daughters, especially the ones containing drospirenone which can dramatically increase the risk of fatal blood clots.

I did not know the symptoms of pulmonary embolism weeks ago. But, I did trust my instincts that something was very wrong. Going to the ER that day saved my life and now though my activity is limited, I can enjoy my favorite season once again.

I love the Fall.

Now more than ever…

 

Kathy ❤

Poetologie

 

 

 

 

 

 

Love and Scrabble: My Struggle with Chronic Illness

As I sit here playing Scrabble with my daughter, I am thinking of all the time that I have wasted. Quality time that I could have been spending with her, my son and my husband.

Time spent fighting Lyme Disease and Pre Menstrual Dysphoric Disorder, among other chronic illnesses.

I am surrounded by lettered tiles, a smiling daughter, and much regret. The cardboard box says “when you play games, everyone wins.” I have not been winning the last three years, I have barely been in the game. But, I will fight my heart out to get back into the game. I will fight my heart out to be there for my family once again.

As I was struggling with Lyme Disease, I overlooked the damage that PMDD was doing to my body and brain. I had not taken my diagnosis seriously, and blamed all of my symptoms on Lyme Disease because Lyme Disease has many intolerable symptoms. What I did not realize was that most of the rage, imbalance and panic that I felt was caused by PMDD.

As soon as I learned that the only cure for PMDD was surgery, I signed up. I had a hysterectomy and salpingo-oophorectomy. This decision was not taken lightly, and anyone considering it has to consult with many doctors, try a few other treatments, and do an enormous amount of research. There are many risk factors and no guarantees that the patient will feel better, but I was ready to take my chances.

My lowest point was being a prisoner in my house, in my own body. Grasping onto the couch for dear life as the anxiety and panic consumed me. Seeing my kids but not being able to play with or enjoy them. Letting them down constantly. Not wanting to be stuck in that prison anymore. Oh how I love my family, that’s why I kept going. That’s why I had surgery as soon as I could. That feeling of doom is gone, the towering prison walls are gone. Only anxiety remains. I will overcome that too.

I feel more hopeful now. The board is full of endless possibilities. Words float around like jubilation, contentment, and survival. Glorious text that I gleefully place on our Scrabble board, glad that it supplants words like despair, indignation and trepidation.

My daughter’s eyes sparkle as she looks at me. Oh how I have missed that look. She is pleased to be able to spend time with her Mama again. All these years she has needed me, I was unable to truly be there for her. She never gave up hope though. She never stopped loving me.

She laughs as she spells the word bunny. Her many freckles frame her beautiful face. I will notice these freckles more now, I will try to make up for lost time.

So many thoughts enter my mind as I sit in our kitchen. What words will I now put on the table? I will choose them more carefully. I will teach my children that words matter. That they are a reflection of who we are. That they can hurt, help or heal.

I will work hard to gain my strength back, to use my words to help bring my family closer, to help others who may need to hear them.

I have a long way to go, but I’m glad that I’m going in the right direction. The Scrabble board is in use again. My mind and body are regenerating. The words will keep flowing.

My life continues. The love continues….

Kathy ❤

Poetolgie

 

 

 

A Letter to My Children on Mother’s Day

I will always treasure every moment
I spent with you dear child
you are my baby and will always be
through many moonlight miles

I hope your days are always filled
with more happiness than you can accrue
and when I am no longer here
the moonbeams will send my love to you

Dear Children,

While you were in my belly I thought a lot about being a perfect mother. I dreamed of you under a starry sky and a bright full moon. I felt like I had been waiting my whole life for you, and I wanted to make sure you were happy. I pictured being Martha Stewart in the kitchen, having a house worthy of Better Homes & Garden magazine, and endless days of laughter, fireflies and fun.

When you arrived I knew the true meaning of love, and wanted to fulfill these goals more than anything.

What I didn’t know then was that I would not accomplish many of these objectives due to Chronic Illness, Lyme Disease and Anxiety. These dreams slowly drifted away as the pain increased, my brain got more foggy, and my strength diminished.

Though I knew that there was no such thing as a perfect mother, I wanted to be as close to perfection as possible. I set the bar very high, and I could never come close to that goal.

You are my little moonbeams, and I prayed to the moon for your forgiveness.

I read you books when I could, played games when I could, and took you to the park when I was able. I walked many moonlight miles with you, I would walk anywhere with you. I cooked you nice meals, and baked awesome allergy friendly treats as often as possible. I watched the sprinkles fall from your fingers, just like I watched the rapid passage of time.

I thought that despite my health issues, life sure is very sweet.

I would destroy the bar I set, and set a new one. This one would focus more on love than longevity, and more on feelings than frequency.

I would learn to enjoy whatever time we had together, and make memories that would last us a lifetime.

I knew that no matter what, I had already accomplished my greatest goal, bringing two incredible children into the world.

You are incredible.

Never forget that.

You show compassion when others are in pain, you hold your little umbrellas up to me to shelter me from the rain. You sit at the buddy bench with those who need a friend, you live your lives with joy and kindness that certainly does transcend. You help plant our garden with seeds of hope, you help me get by, you help me cope. You are as peaceful as little doves, have taught me the meaning of unconditional love. You are more special to me than words can say, and I will love you til’ my dying day.

I am so blessed to have you in my life.

I am sorry for my shortcomings, or for anything you have missed due to my illnesses and anxiety.

But I am not sorry that you failed to miss what the meaning of life is.

Being kind and true to yourself. Being able to put others in need before yourself from time to time. Spending as much time as possible with those you love. Never taking them for granted, never forgetting to tell them how much you care.  Love yourself, others and the environment. Never stop growing your mind, your heart, your soul.

I am so proud of you.

I am so happy that I get to spend Mother’s Day with you.

There is no one else I’d rather be with. There is no one else like you.

Thank you for all of the joy you have given me, and continue to bring to my life. I hope all that joy comes back to you two-fold.

I hope you will always remember what I have taught you.

Always live your life to the fullest.

Always remember how much I love you.

Always remember that that light that shines within you is greater than the light of any moon.

 

 

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Today I’ll Take Care of You: A Letter to My Family

It is a quiet Saturday morning in April. Rain falls softly outside, and the streets are covered with cherry blossom petals. Though all of you are sick with a virus, it is a good day.

Today I am able to take care of you for a change. Today I feel okay. I have the strength to make you some eggs, toast and tea. I’ll bring them to you in bed, and plant a gentle kiss on your forehead.

Today I will make some of my homemade tomato sauce that you love, and its magnificent aroma will fill the air. I will bake those nut-free vanilla cupcakes that you’ve been asking me to make for months. We will play Scrabble for hours since my brain is less foggy. We will cozy up on the couch and watch a great family movie.

I will be the mom/wife that I want to be every single day. The mom/wife that is not too sick to care for you, to cook for you, to be present for you, to explore the world with you. I will cherish this day, and pray for many more like it.

My many chronic conditions include Asthma, Lyme Disease, Fibromyalgia, Interstitial Cystitis, Endometriosis, Anxiety and Pre Menstrual Dysmorphic Disorder.

Any one of these conditions are enough to make life difficult to manage and cope with, but together they are often debilitating.

You see me wince with pain, so you help dry my tears. You see me tired and hungry so you bring me food. You see me unable to do chores so you help do them for me. You see me suffer, so you bring me my medicine.

What you don’t realize is that you provide the best medicine in the world. The medicine I need the most.

Love.

You provide it in daily doses of hugs, teaspoons of tenderness, and soothing scripts.

There is no better prescription for happiness. You make the tough days tolerable, the painful days palatable, and the crazy days comforting.

You are there for it all, and help me get through the unavoidable rain. You rarely complain, you just want to help me feel better.

I appreciate every single thing you do for me. I appreciate all of the sacrifices you make. I appreciate your constant companionship.

It is nice to not have to feel so alone in this long journey of chronic illness. In this long journey of life.

It is nice to have all of you by my side. My sweet family. I love you more than words can say.

Today I’ll take care of you.

Today I promise to keep fighting to get better so that we will have many more days together in sickness and in health.

Today it is my turn to provide you with some comfort, warmth and unconditional love.

Rest your weary heads.

Mommy is here.

And I will be here until the last cherry blossom petals wash away.

 

 

 

 

 

A Letter To My Kind Hair Stylist Who Eased My Anxiety

To My Kind Hair Stylist:

When I entered the salon you worked at I was filled with anxiety for no reason. It’s just something I deal with daily. My generalized anxiety has become much worse since I developed Lyme Disease. Regular daily chores and trips to the grocery store/hair salon/mall/restaurants fill me with anxiety. I wish I didn’t have to feel this way all of the time, but for now I do. I’m working hard to overcome it, but that could take many years.

And so I made myself walk into your salon. I desperately needed a nice haircut, and I took a deep calming breath and hoped for the best. The salon was beautiful, and had a nice relaxing atmosphere. The staff were all really nice and brought you out to meet me.

There was something about you that immediately put me at ease, and that is no small feat. You had a big smile on your face and a nice, tranquil demeanor.

You brought me to your chair and asked me a few questions about how I wanted my hair cut. I answered your questions quickly as I was still nervous. Then you proceeded to wash my hair. The scalp massage really helped me to relax. I felt okay as I walked back to your chair.

I had to immediately bring up a few health issues, as my Lyme Disease makes me more sensitive to chemicals, and I have to make sure there are no nut or shellfish containing products used due to me and my son’s food allergies.

You did not roll your eyes at all I told you. You kindly and sincerely answered all of my questions, and even checked and rechecked the product labels to make sure they were safe.

Even though you were very young, you had a certain patience and understanding about you that usually comes with age.

Whatever topic I brought up, you offered words of wisdom well beyond your years. You were sympathetic, perceptive, and very knowledgeable.

I was so grateful to be able to loosen up and be distracted enough to actually enjoy my haircut for the first time in years. You have no idea how much that means to me.

After talking to you for awhile you brought up the fact that you had recently donated your kidney to a boy you had been dating for only a year. Then it all made sense.

You aren’t just a thoughtful young woman. You aren’t just a patient woman. You are an Angel on Earth.

You had actually saved someone’s life, and I was grateful to be in your peaceful presence.

You gave off an air of acknowledgement, because you’ve already been through so much.

You were able to put me at ease, because you understood struggle.

You were able to show much kindness, because you know exactly what it means to walk a tough road.

You were also able to give me the best haircut I’ve had in years, even though you are just beginning your career.

When my haircut was through, you gave me a big hug. Not a forced one, a real genuine hug from your heart. That had never happened before in my 40 plus years of getting haircuts.

It was very sweet, and special, just like you are.

I believe deeply in thanking people who have shown me or my family kindness. I believe in thanking people who make my day, or go out of their way to help others.

Thank you for putting me at ease and making an ordinary trip to the salon an extraordinary one.

You are very good at your job and I wish you all the success in the world.

I also wish good health to you and your boyfriend. I hope the special bond that exists between the two of you lasts forever.

I will be back for more haircuts and will refer my friends and family too.

I have never thought of writing a letter/blog to thank a hair stylist before. That’s because I never met one like you.

I am altering the words of Sir Elton John to say:

My gift is my blog, and this one’s for you….

 

 

 

 

The Race

I have moved slowly my whole life. I have been called a turtle and an Ent among many other things. I have never felt the need to rush, and my lifelong anxiety prevents me from acting quickly even when I try.

I was always one of the slowest runners at school, and the slowest walker on the crowded streets of New York City where I grew up. I cook slowly, I eat slowly, and I get ready slowly. I think slowly, and right now I am typing this blog slowly.

It has always taken me longer than others to get most things done. I was glad when I met my husband that this didn’t seem to bother him. My turtle pace was just fine with him.

When we had kids it was hard for me to keep up with hungry babies, fast moving toddlers, and now busy young children. I adapted and kept up the best I could.

Then I was bit by a tiny tick and developed Lyme Disease. Added on to my already full plate of Anxiety, Interstitial Cystitis, Fibromyalgia, Pre-Menstrual Dysmorphic Disorder, Endometriosis, Vulvodynia, and slow-moving turtle syndrome, I felt completely overwhelmed. It felt like I was caught up in a never ending cycle of Chronic Illness.

How would I get anything done now? How would I get through this?

Slowly. One day at a time.

Lyme Disease completely took over my body and brain for awhile. I have improved about fifty percent over the last 3 years thanks to my doctors and antibiotics, but my brain is still affected, and it is difficult to remember certain things.

There is no cure for Chronic Lyme Disease, and so I continue to fight, and move even more slowly. The waves of Lyme haze run through my brain, and I still struggle to be set free.

There were many days when the guilt of not being enough, and not doing enough for my family was crushing. There were many days when I didn’t have the strength to cook or even take a shower, let alone play with my children.

This guilt followed me around like a shadow on the ground, the writing on the wall. Until I decided to stomp all over it, and to write a new story.

In this story, it is okay to be a sick, extremely slow-moving turtle. I still have worth, I still am able to give and receive love. I strengthened my shell, I developed new goals. I have a new outlook on life.

I decided to feel beautiful inside and out, even though I looked disheveled on most days. I decided to tell my family that I love them at least twice a day. I decided that it was okay to plan one fun thing a week for my kids to look forward to, for me to look forward to. I decided to try hard to brighten other people’s days, or to help others more when I am able to, through my writing and other avenues. I decided that was enough, I was enough.

Though I can’t do as much as I used to since my turtle power is low, I have learned to cherish all that I can do.

All of us move at different speeds. All of us are facing many difficult trials and tribulations. All of us are part of the human race.

We don’t have to win it, we just have to consciously and compassionately be in it.