Manifesto: You were made for something more

Hand holding, elbows brushing, hips swaying, feet stomping.

The world has come alive, awakening from it's winter, and I am awakening with it.

I can feel the revival stirring inside of my body, feel the rhythm as my heart beats in time, resounding against my ribcage

I want to be free

I don't know anyone but no one feels like a stranger

There is music, and laughter, and dancing, and the world feels like it has been lit on fire, and I want to be on fire too

I want to glow, emit the light that has been cooped up inside of me for so long

I want to shine like the sun as it peeks through the clouds, warming my shoulders, reminding me of miracles

The hot lemonade is warm on my tongue, but comfortably so. It tastes like honey, like promise and sweetness and hope. It is warmth and comfort.

We watch as people move like they were born solely to exist in this moment, like nothing else matters besides this awakening, and I can feel my heart awakening too

I am coming out of a long, cold winter

My bones are still rusty and don't quite remember how to dance but the echo of my heartbeat (sounds like a symphony) is a persistent partner, always inviting me to dance no matter how many times I step on his feet

She says my confidence is coming back, he says the light is returning to my eyes, and I feel it all as I am shedding extra layers

I want to experience what it means to be alive

I play a game of feeling everything, letting it be absorbed into my skin like it is medicine, letting it wash over me like the promise of hope

It makes me giddy

Reminding me what it's like to have a voice, to break free from the shackles of darkness, to grow my own set of wings

It reminds me of being seven, when I still fiercely held on to my light, when the whole world made me insanely happy

Ten years have passed, and I have become more jaded, hardened by the world, and yet I still feel that same awakening inside of me

the same hope and potential and possibility

this could be the start of something beautiful

And I want to fall in love with this moment, and these people, and myself and the birds and the trees and the hills and the sky and everything that seems to call my name, begging me, for this one moment, to be alive

I am poetess, story teller, belonging to the universe and the One who created it all, created to marvel and wonder and be fully alive in every moment while my heart is still beating like a drum inside of me

I was made to feel something more than the weight of the darkness as it wraps itself around my shoulders and calls itself warmth

I remember a few years ago sitting at a kitchen table in a house that didn't belong to me, writing on the back of a grocery list that I want to be enough for myself

I didn't know then that those words would become my cry as I wandered through these next few years of my life

I was, and am, searching for ways to be enough for myself

I am realizing now I don't have to do anything

I just have to exist

in wonder

in grace

in love

there is nothing I can do or not to do make myself enough, I just need to accept that I am

I was

And I always will be

I'm still learning what that means

I'm coming back to that place where I live in honesty, not belonging to another human being but myself, marveling at the world

Sometimes it's easy to write from this place

It's not so easy when you are lacking connection, when the pieces don't quite fit, when you spill your coffee and spend the afternoon in bed and stub your toe on your way out the door

I am learning this too is it's own kind of beautiful

If this is crazy than I want to be that. I want to fall in love with every moment of my one wild and beautiful life, I want to see heaven and God and the divine nature of it all in everything, I want to finally learn what it means to embrace my enough-ness and be free

I want to use these wings to fly

Born this way

I think there's something to be said for suffering. We live in an age where we are so blessed that we can medicate when we need to; headaches, childbirth, dentistry, fevers, surgeries... But as a result, we've grown to expect less suffering in life - and in death. We even attempt to medicate heartbreak. Don't get me wrong - I've downed more than my fair share of painkillers when I've needed them - and I've dealt with the annoyance and frustration of suffering with migraines that hurt more than my natural childbirths. I've given medications or cough candies to my children... and while I understand that pain is not fun - and, yes, I do try to avoid it - or seeing my children in it, some days I wonder if we're trading off something precious when we make it our goal to avoid suffering completely.

1am had come and gone and thanks to some wonderful insomnia, I was still awake. Staring at the ceiling, journaling until my hand started cramping up and I couldn't think straight enough to finish a thought.
I was thinking about suffering.
In chronic illness, like in a lot of things, I think, there are a lot of misunderstandings. It leaves the patient (namely me, yesterday) feeling alone and frustrated. It feels like on top of actually feeling the physical pain, you have to defend it. Everyone seems to need a reason for why things are the way they are or why I'm feeling the way I am.
I'm tired of hearing everyone's opinions on how I should act or how I should treat my illness and my body. I'm tired of people in general acting like they have some sort of right to how I live my life.
And I feel like, in dealing with a chronic illness, people expect you to make yourself smaller. If you're having a flare, you have to have done something wrong. If you can't get out of bed in the morning or can't take a shower it's because you're not trying hard enough.
I think a lot of people expect patients with any kind of illness to be positive and happy all the time and that's really not true. And I feel like people are uncomfortable when they see that side that is real and honest and that really sucks sometimes.
"Stay in your little closet until you find a cure," They'll whisper, "Once you get a cure, then you can inspire people. But right now you're sick and unless you can pretend like that part of you doesn't exist then stay back."

I think, as a society, we're so quick to shrug off suffering. There's a quick fix for everything, even though it's not always that simple. One of the problems with this I see is that no one ever teaches you how to live with that pain or how to embrace who you are now.
Yeah, my life changed dramatically when I got sick. But that's not necessarily a bad thing. But I get treated like it is. I get shoved back into the corner, afraid to be myself because I'll be judged or pitied or whatever. I can't be real because that's wrong. I have to just sit there in my nice little closet and say magic words and believe I can get better and be positive all the time and then, once I get better, then I can come out.
I think more and more people are acting like suffering shouldn't be allowed. If you're sick, you take medicine and get better. If you're depressed, you take pills and make yourself happy again. As a society, I think we're uncomfortable with pain and suffering and anything that's different. There has to be something wrong with you and you have to fix it as soon as possible. And you better not inconvenience anyone with your pain. Basically sit down, shut up and smile.
I think this naturally brings me to a question of, "Do I want to be sick?" Well, obviously not. No human being in their right mind would choose agonizing pain and feeling misunderstood and being judged for something they can't control.
Do I believe I can get better? Yes. I totally believe if He wanted to, God could heal me.
Do I think it will happen in this lifetime? No, I don't. It's a possibility, but I don't believe it will happen, at least not in the way everyone expects it to.
But, here's the thing, and it's something I'm still learning too, there's nothing wrong with who I am right now. Being sick has taught me so many things and I've had so many wonderful opportunities and I'm proud of who I am. I don't ever want to make myself smaller or try to fit inside neat little boxes. This is who I am and I'm not going to stop being myself because it makes someone uncomfortable.
Being sick is a huge part of who I am. It impacts my daily life. And while, yes, it sucks, I wouldn't ever want to change it because it has made me who I am today. And I'm proud of that person.
I'm not looking for a quick fix. I'm not looking to make myself smaller and quieter and more socially acceptable. I don't want to hide those real honest parts of me and what I go through and just gloss over things and pretend everything is fine.
It's ok not to be fine. It's ok to be different. It's ok to fight and struggle and cry.
I am open to healing. I'm working every day on getting better and on feeling better. But right now, this is who I am. For the rest of my life, this will be who I am, regardless of whether or not I get a 'magic cure' or not. Every single day of my life I will fight and struggle and I'll have flares and be sick. It doesn't mean I did something wrong or that I could have prevented it. I can't live my whole life in the what if's.
I'm open to all the possibilities my future will hold. Maybe that does mean the doctors finding a cure for my diseases or maybe it means me having less flares and feeling better or maybe they won't find a cure and I'll spend the rest of my life walking this tight rope between feeling good and feeling like I got hit by a bus. And I'm ok with that.
Are you?
I'm doing this my way. I'm doing this honest and real and I'm not stifling myself to make you comfortable. I'm going to shine, either come with me or get out of my way.

Soul Food

For months my life was in shambles. I felt like a caged animal, filled with so much emotion I didn't know how to express. I was filled with ancient, primal sounds coming from some place deep within me. I felt trapped, lost, angry and desperate.
I had just been diagnosed. and instead of being happy and relieved (though I was those things too) I was upset. It was another thing I didn't know how to handle. It was the loss of something so precious. It was evidence of where I'd failed. I felt like i was participating in a horror show. I didn't understand. I felt seering loss, a sense of complete brokenness.

It was January 1 when things began to change for me. The first day of a new year usually means making resolutions i know i'll never keep, being sentimental about the year gone by yet excited for a clean slate in the new year. This year is turning out to be different. I feel better then I have in a very long time. I'm finding my 'muchness' again. I'm coming out of the darkness and walking towards the light. I'm happy, and I'm excited for my future.
Not long into January, I discovered a fabulous lady called Kris Carr. She had stablized her chronic stage 4 cancer and her lifestyle was intriguing to someone like me, someone living in desperation with the knowledge that something had to change or I might not make it through this and be ok.
So I started juicing, and eating more veggies, and working to diminish inflammation in my body. And it started working. I started feeling better, my energy improved, the amount of pain I was having lessened, and I just felt better, happy, like I was glowing.

Today was the first time i had an ionic footbath. I was a little nervous, but mostly excited as I stepped into that small room. I submerged my feet into the tub of warm water, and almost instantly toxins began to come out of the pores in my feet and into the water.
I listened to the sounds of the people and things around me. I felt the warm water on my feet, felt it as more warm water was poured in to the bath, as a cup of electrolyte water was placed in front of me. This was the sound of care, the feeling of someone watching over me.
I rolled up the pant legs of my jeans, watching as toxins were released from my body. Toxins released from every part of me.
We made conversation as I soaked my feet, the water changing from golden amber to mud brown with bubbles.
"Drink plenty of water in the next 24 hours," they reminded me.
Care was being given.

This was my first time recieving an ionic footbath. Yesterday, as I walked through the aisles of the health food store, I saw a poster. Holistic health is something i find intriguing, and so when I saw the sign I was ready to give it a try. Emotionally speaking, when I discovered holistic health and this kind of medicine that wasn't just about symptoms, I was crawling on my hands and knees. I was exhausted from trying to reign in my emotions, faituged from fighting an uphill battle with grief. Natural medicine, for me, wasn't about possibly improving my symptoms and feeling better. It was about pure survival. It was knowing that if I didn't do something I was going to get smaller and smaller until I was barely a speck in a microscope.
On December 31, it was the worst day and the best day. It was the day I knew I couldn't fight anymore. I was desperate. I was tired of fighting, tired of pretending to be ok, tired of living in this place of constant grief. Was it my own fault that I was feeling like this? Was I not thankful enough? Maybe, like some people seemed to think, if I was just happier I wouldn't be feeling like I just lost one of the most precious things in my world, like death had just come and settled in to my body.
I say it was also my best day because after curling up on the couch and watching a movie and crying and wondering what i was going to do now, I watched the sunset out of the big window in our family room. It was the most beautiful sunset, with colors of pink and golden and purple and wisps of blue. It was the day I began googling and accidentally stumbled upon an article about some celebrity who had tried a natural diet. I was intrigued, and read more, and more.
So I decided to try. Things couldn't get any worse, and I had nothing to lose. So in a matter of days I began juicing, and eating more veggies, then slowly cutting back on my animal products. The holistic approach to my health wasn't just about my physical symptoms, though. I began feeling lighter, feeling better, which gave me the energy to finally sift through all those emotions inside of me I'd kept buried for so long. Finally i had a license to feel all of these things.
So, 3 times a day, I have felt there, standing over my juicer as veggies spun out of control, over the stove as ingredients mixed together, most of the time to create something that would nourish my body and also, in turn, my soul. As I scour the internet, looking up new holistic health plans, I let myself dream of a new future for myself.
When I say this new life style helped me, I'm not just saying it improved my disease related symptoms (though it did.)  I was in a coma and I got diagnosed and that's traumatic and awful and it's not ok for me. Nothing can make being sick not suck for me - not even the love of my amazing friends or talking with other chronic illness survivors or writing or hot bubble baths, though these things are all crucial in my healing journey. Nothing will ever make what I've gone through ok or not traumatic or not suck. but holistic health does something for me. It's something I can control. It gives me the ability to deal with my emotions, or to lose myself and not think while I cook or find new delicious recipes or remedies.
For so long I've worked so hard to take care of everyone else. But this is me taking care of me. it's feeding not only my body but my soul. it gives me control in a life where things are always needed from me.

I had my first ionic footbath today, and it was a release. as toxins poured out of my feet, something inside of me released. Care was being provided. While my life still spins chaotically and things are still needed from me always, natural medicine gives me stability. It's restored my faith in myself.
Today, as I rinsed off my feet, wiping all the brown sludge from my ankles, the lady who was doing my footbath said to me, "I don't say this to a lot of people but I have a feeling you're going to change the world."
I smile at the thought. Maybe I am. But right now I am changing my world. And, for now, that is more than enough.