Not a Pain in the Blog

In my mind I keep insisting that this is not a “pain blog”. This is not a “Rheumatoid Arthritis” (RA) blog, nor is it a “Fibromyalgia Blog.” I am sure that there are plenty of those out there written by more capable people that me. So then why do I keep writing about pain. Well, because it is part of who I am and I do not like it.

I have taken countless pills to keep it at bay. I have let doctors cut on my flesh and stick scary needles into my joints to try to stop it. I have had nerves “burned” in an attempt to outsmart it. I have injected myself with a medicine that clearly states that one of the possible side effects is that it can cause cancer. CANCER! I have cried, prayed, begged and bargained with God. But still nothing changes, not for the better anyway. None of it has done much, if anything at all to help quell the screeching of this monster that insists on sharing my body and my life.

So what am I left to do. Change the things that I can. Today I told the woman that I co-lead my daughter’s Girl Scout troop with that I can not continue at the same capacity that I have been at. I am tired of spreading myself to thin. Shortchanging my husband and kids and being stressed out all the while. There is an economy at work within my body. I only have so much to give, and I have to give it in the best and most important way that I can. I feel so selfish though. We all have full, busy lives. We all have our issues, right now I am just putting mine first. It is the one thing I haven’t tried to help myself. I have had to cut out so much over the years. I used to race from one mommy volunteer commitment to the next. Room mom – check, PTO – check, Fundraiser – check, Scouts (both Girls and Cubs) leadership – check, Children’s Ministry Lead Teacher – Check. Constant classroom volunteer – checkity-check –check-check! And I loved every last bit of it. I wanted to be a mom as long as I could remember. College and career were a vehicle to get me what I really wanted, my family and my children. Now I have them. I guess I just have to learn how to appreciate them differently than what I had in mind.

Growing up I was a “day care kid” who grew into a “latch-key-kid” (that was before latch-key was a program offered in school buildings by the YMCA) . I wore my house key around my neck and I would let myself in the house after school until my parents got home from work. I did this from the age of eight on. It was fine. My parents loved me and took great care of me, they just both had to work hard jobs fro long hours. I could never wait for them to be home.

I am sure that I caused my mom immense heartache because every year as the school year began I would beg her to be a room mom. She never could because of work. So I made sure that I was not going to miss out on all that with my kids. The oldest two are teens now and still insist that some of their favorite school memories involve their mom. (Allison would also point out that I am also the highlight of one of her least favorite school memories too. Sorry about dancing in the Fifth Grade hall to “Whooly Bully” sweetie. What can I say the music moved me and they were supposed to be dancing too!!)

So now I have come full circle. I picked up more and more, and one by one laid them down again. This is the last, but it has to be done. At least for now.

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