Saturday, October 30, 2010


I’m going to bed with a smile upon my face tonight. And it feels pretty amazing. I’ve missed smiling. 

The day started out in a whirlwind of emotional hell and physical pain. I cried my eyes out to a close friend, sharing all the hurts and frustrations of my life right now. How it just isn’t fair that I’ve tried to take good care of my body, but it rebels against me. How I hate being stuck in bed for hours, but I have no choice. How I don’t want to be 27 and alone, taking a drug that puts me in menopause for six months. 

I vented non-stop this morning. I just kept sobbing and rambling. It was like a non-stop flow of everything that I usually try to keep to myself. The words and tears kept rolling and rolling.
I cried about God. How He says that He has plans for me that are good, offering a hope and a future (Jeremiah 29:11), but how I don’t always believe that is true. How sometimes I feel like God has left me. How I wish He would give me some relief. How tired I was of hearing people say, “God is building character in the pain”. I don’t want character! I want to be happy and pain-free!
I shared how THIS wasn’t fair. How every ex is now married with children (or one on the way) and I’m alone fighting this disease. How I don’t want to be alone, but I don’t want to meet any one. How I’m afraid to commit to anything because of how horrible I feel at times. How I just want to get out of the dang house, but get scared that I won’t be able to follow through with any activity right now.
I cried ’til I really had nothing left to say. And Kay listened the whole time. She didn’t offer solutions or tell me to stop being a drama queen (‘cause although I’m hurting, I’m also sure some of this crying is from hormones....ugh). She just listened. And when I was done crying, she said some crazy remark that made me laugh. I don’t even remember what she said, but the tears turned to giggles for a few seconds. In those seconds, I realized that I’m over and abundantly blessed to have Kay and other people in my life. People that love me no matter what. Even with all the crying.
I know that God still loves me. I know that He will never leave me. It sounds crazy to put my faith in a God who I cannot see or touch or hear. But I know He is with me because of the people He has placed in my life.

Yes, it is easy to doubt and shake my fists in anger. Yes, I do that at times. But I still can’t deny Him. I can’t deny that even in all the heartbreak and loss, I feel His hands comforting me. Even in the storms of “why?”, “how?”, “when?”, and “if?”...God is still here. He still loves me.
I have a tattoo on the inside of my right ankle that says, “the one whom Jesus loves”. I got it after life threw me some major blows - first endo surgery and left at the alter. When I see my tat, I am remember that the Lord is always, always near me. And that no matter what I may have done (or not done enough of), He still loves me. His love is unconditional.
While thinking on the love of God, I started wondering about the truth of what I had said to Kay. Is it true that I don’t want to be alone? Really? I have been asked out on quite a few dates, but it seems like I always find a reason why I don’t like the person. Why do I do that? If I want to get married, then why do I let the little, corky things found in a person bother me so much that I wouldn’t date them? Am I too picky? Why is it that I go for the guys that seem to run from me, but I ignore the amazing guys who try to pursue me? So, whos fault is it?

Is it my fault that I’m single? How picky is too picky? I hate to admit it, but I’m vain when it comes to guys. I love tall, athletic men. I love a guy who can be active and work out. I used to make being a “christian” the major deciding factor with a guy being datable, but have realized that those guys cheat, lie, and run too.
At the game!
Today, I talked to God a lot as I was stuck in bed, awaiting the football game. Although not too big of a fan, I just wanted to get out of the house. And football games are a great excuse for moving! I didn’t want to exhaust myself before the game, so I just sat around and read...and talked to God. Or rather pleaded with God.
All in all, I am happy tonight. I made it through my breakdown this morning. I made it out to my University’s homecoming game tonight. And I’m doing alright. 

Yes, I am far from my family, hormonal, determined, and absolutely clueless.. But I’m going to bed in Arkansas tonight with a smile upon my face...and a prayer thanking the God who gave it to me. 

Missing Love

I miss having someone. I miss kisses and hugs and holding hands. I miss seeing pictures with someone else beside me, instead of the cropped memories that remain.

I miss saturdays spent next to the one who I was planning my life with. I miss snuggling in bed and arguing about who would get up to shut the lights off. I miss tickle wars and laundry fights.

I miss waking up with someone next to me. I miss going to the grocery store and planning out our meals together. I miss being able to cry to someone...and have him hold me.

I miss dreams of a life together with someone special. I miss random texts, e-mails, and phone calls out of the blue to say “i love you”. I miss white roses  being delivered at work. I miss having my love be my gym partner. I miss holding someones hand.

I don’t miss my ex. I just miss having someone. I miss being loved. I miss being able to love.


I play the piano. Sometimes, I sing. And rarely, I write songs. I used to sing in church. Sometimes, I’d share my music. The following is an audio of a song that I wrote. The recording is not from a studio. It is just a rough audio of my piano and I, echoing the words that I feel God telling me during the sadness and mourning. The lyrics are listed below. 



Friday, October 29, 2010

Break the Silence

I didn’t blog yesterday. I told myself at the beginning that I would write a post every day. The reason is because I knew myself. I knew that after a while, if I didn’t have anything “good” to write, then I wouldn’t want to write at all. BUT the whole point of the blog was to help me cope with the “bad” days of endometriosis (and whatever else life dares to throw my way).

So, this is my sin. I was in so much pain yesterday that I didn’t want to admit it. I hate documenting the days when I’m stuck in bed. I don’t want to share my pain because I don’t want to look weak. Goodness gracious, how many times do  I have to learn that pain doesn’t make me weak?

As I cowered beneath my heating blanket, ashamed of all my pain, I read. 

I read the blogs of women who are fighting this disease and heartache as well. Oh, and I cried...A LOT (dang hormones!). 

I used to wonder how I could read about millions fighting this disease, but not know of one single person. But now I know why...’cause I never talk about Endo to others. How would I learn that someone else has the same disease when I’m silent? 

I used to get angry because of the lack of awareness and support for Endometriosis research. But I never spoke up. I never acted to raise awareness. 

So, my silence is my sin and here is my confession: 

I have spent the last couple of days in bed because of the pain. When I walk, my abdomen and pelvis start to tremor because it hurts so bad. My reasoning is that this is “normal” and I need to just deal with it right now. Ummmm, “normal” as in, this is my first period since surgery (for some reason Aunt Flo is taking her time - which never, ever, ever freakin’ happens!) and, from what I recall, the first ovulation and period hurt like hell. Of course, the first couple of months of Lupron (waiting on that period!) hurt like hell too. Oh, and Endometriosis hurts like hell for eternity. SO, basically, the pain is incredibly intense and I’m trying to justify it to make it sound “normal”. 

What the heck is wrong with me? 

I shouldn’t be ashamed of Endometriosis and Infertility. Instead, I need to speak up and do something about it. Even if that “something” is just sharing my words on a page. 

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

The Best Is Yet To Come

It has been 3 weeks since surgery. 

I woke up energized and excited to take on the day. Determined to get past the pain with a smile, believing that the best is yet to come. It was like I had just woken up from a bad nightmare. I kept reassuring myself that the “worst” was over. 

When I trained clients this A.M., I picked up a few light weights and stood up most of the time (I have been siting on the floor telling clients what to do since surgery). I went for my little post-op jog, pushing to complete two miles, and averaging around 8:25 per mile. The pain got intense at times, but I completed the run with a smile on my face, bursting with hope. 

I felt like my life was creeping back into my view. 

The homeless shelter was packed today. I go there to volunteer, usually packing lunches and snack packs for kids, or helping out with families. It has been weeks since my last appearance because of the endometriosis worsening and surgery. My energy levels were through the roof because of how happy I was to be back and moving around. 

Not once did I realize that I should have slowed down, especially after running 2 miles as fast as I possibly could just three weeks post-op. I was organizing animal crackers and granola bars like a mad woman for about 2 hours, lifting boxes and climbing ladders. 

Yes, climbing ladders. Maybe at this point I should have had a clue that the pain would hit soon, but I was on a twisted “runner’s high”. It wasn’t really a runner’s high, but really a “out of bed from endo” high. 

If someone would have heard my thoughts before 12 noon today, they would have laughed. I was debating the idea of actually pushing for a marathon run on Dec. 4’th in Memphis for St. Jude. Despite the knowledge that I’d be setting myself up for injury, the marathon felt reachable to me. Remember: I was running 15-28 miles at a time easily. My training was vigorous and intense before the endometriosis tore me to shreds in mid-september. The marathon was attainable before my breakdown and surgery. It’s just crazy-talk now. 

As I was climbing and lifting in my hopeful excitement for the future, the pressure in my abdomen and pelvis started to demand my attention even more. I ignored it. 

The pain hit hard. I started sweating and shaking, praying for it to go away. “No, God, please” I kept saying, “Please don’t let it get worse. I’m just learning how to cope. Please”. 

The pain hit harder. I couldn’t walk. I just shook. My hips and abs trembled uncontrollably. In my embarrassment, I refused to look up. I didn’t want to see someone looking at me. 

A friend of mine was in another room at the time the increase in pain hit, but all of a sudden I felt her hands on my hips, trying to calm the tremors. I told her I was fine. That it would be ok. 

It wasn’t ok. I wasn’t ok. Something was wrong. I pushed too hard. Too fast. Maybe it was the lifting. Maybe it was the climbing. Maybe it was my stupidity. Whatever it was, it landed me in bed the rest of the day. Exhausted, shaking, and holding onto my heating pad for dear “life”. 


Stuck in my bed for hours again. Laying as still as possible, begging God to take the pain. Crying in frustration and confusion, wanting nothing more but my life back, but refusing to acknowledge defeat. 

Tomorrow, I’m gonna smile again. 

And maybe even jog if I can...

Tony Bennett - The Best Is Yet To Come

Monday, October 25, 2010


 I just ran a 10 minute mile! I swear on my life that I did. I know this is slow, but I’m just getting it back! I woke up thinking that I could not move. I was in so much pain and I still tried...and I did it!!!!

AND I’m still standing! (well, I sat down for a little bit to write this, but you get the point). I could stand up to take a pic. And I didn’t collapse on the ground. WOOOOHOOOO!!! 

I can’t wait to get stronger! I can’t wait to get faster!!! 

AND I can’t wait ’til I can “RUN/WALK FOR A CURE FOR ENDOMETRIOSIS” someday. OR “BIKE FOR A CURE”!!! 

My “running” song on my ipod this morning gave me some motivation when I was down and discouraged. I just kept telling myself that God really hasn’t left my side (and still telling myself). 


Let’s just be honest.

I get up anywhere from 5-6AM during the week to train clients. I put on a smiley face and move as much as possible. I spout off motivational quotes from athletes that have endured heavy training and obstacles. I tell them to never, ever quit. I encourage them to look to their goals.

But in my mind, I want to quit. I wake up fighting it almost every day. My body hurts. They can ask me how I feel, and I just say, “ok” because I don’t want to look weak.

I feel like I have nails drilling into my side. I feel like I am being pressed against a wall of sharp pins when I move and when I lay still. When I walk or attempt to jog, I feel like my guts are going to come out. I know this all sounds disgusting and morbid. I agree.

Where does the line of perseverance end and the line of stupidity begin? How do I know when I’m pushing myself beyond what the body should be doing? Because to be honest, I feel like a failure no matter what I do. I feel like nothing is good enough right now. SO I keep pushing and pushing and pushing, but I’m left frustrated, in tears, and laying in bed.

I tell others that God is with them. I tell them to believe in His promises to never leave us. But I feel like God has deserted me. I feel like my prayers and cries are unheard. How do I know that God can hear me? How do I know that He hasn’t left me when I feel so alone?
~Psalm 102:1-3

How do I know the difference between when I’m just being weak and when I’m supposed to rest? How do I know when I’m supposed to jog and when I’m supposed to sit still? Because it hurts either way. When I jog, it becomes intense. I get to the point where I cannot stand up because of the pressure and pain that digs into my sides and pelvis. Right now, that is my line. That is the point that I go to before I stop. Before I decide that I’m supposed to rest....because I have no choice.

I had surgery almost 3 weeks ago. And everything within me wants to pretend like I’m feeling great. I want to shrug off the pain and tell the world that I’m “fixed”, that I’m better now.

But it hurts even when I try to fake it.

Why does it still hurt? Shouldn’t I be feeling great after another surgery? Shouldn’t I feel awesome now that the doctor removed every growth he could find? Shouldn’t I feel amazing now that my organs aren’t stuck by adhesions? Why am I still limping around in pain and crying? What is wrong with me?

Reality: I know it’s because this is a chronic disease. I know it’s because the doctor probably did the best he could do, but he can’t cure it. I also know it will most likely get worse the next month or so when the Lupron invades my body (the first shot was hell for me last time, but then it got better). I’m not trying to dwell on this, but I know this is why it still hurts. I’m trying to make myself stay positive, but to be honest, I want to quit (side note: I am NOT in anyway talking about quitting life!!!)

Just like my clients in the past have wanted to give up when they hurt or when fatigue sets in, I want to give up. With my mouth, I tell myself to keep moving, keep pushing, keep trying. But in my mind, I want to stop. Because it hurts. It hurts so bad that I can’t live the life of activity that makes me happy.

Does that make me a hypocrite? To know that inside I really want to give up when I tell everyone to keep pushing?

I tell myself that this is just a stage. That it will get better. I will get stronger. And I know that is true. I know it because I have been through this time of pain and sadness before. I know that I have survived surgery and drugs, and brought my body back to life. I know that I can get through this obstacle.

I just don’t want everyone to think that I’m weak. I don’t want people to think that I’m “milking” this pain. I’d do anything to move and be strong. I wish I could be back on my bike and running.


Is it hypocritical to want to give up when I preach to others to endure?

And does God really love me, even now, or has He has shattered me into a million pieces only to look away?

Listen, God, I'm calling at the top of my lungs: 

      "Be good to me! Answer me!" 
   When my heart whispered, "Seek God," 
      my whole being replied, 
   "I'm seeking him!" 
      Don't hide from me now! 

      You've always been right there for me; 
      don't turn your back on me now. 
   Don't throw me out, don't abandon me; 
      you've always kept the door open. 
   My father and mother walked out and left me, 

      but God took me in.

~Psalm 27 (the Message)

Sunday, October 24, 2010

The desires of my heart

Sunday is church day. It is the day of rest, the one time in the week when most of us actually get the chance to relax. Families spend time together on this day. We all get to step away from the busy week schedule for a change.

Sundays remind me of how badly I want a family. When I am at church, I try not to look around at those holding babies and the hands of their children. I don’t want to scare anyone with a sudden outburst of tears. I want a husband and a child of my own. I want to be a mom. I want this dream more than anything in the world. These thoughts don’t just come to me at church or on sundays, they invade my mind almost every minute of the day. It doesn’t matter what I am doing, where I am, or who I am with. I can’t escape this aching.

This morning at church, the pastor talked about living a life of radical generosity. He was talking about extravagant gifts, using the example of the woman who poured expensive perfume on Jesus’ feet as an act of love and worship. He said that we could be “self-seeking hoarders” or “Christ-seeking worshippers” with our resources. I found myself disconnecting to this message at the beginning because I am not a hoarder. I don’t care about obtaining a lot of money. I make a good living and I am blessed to be able to give to others. It is not hard for me to give.

Then the pastor took the message a step further. He asked the congregation what we were all holding onto, what our most precious desires were. For most people, I guess money would be ranked near the top. But my most precious desire is the dream of having a family. I want a child of my own to love. I want a husband to love us both.

As the pastor continued to preach, I didn’t hear much of anything else. I was trying not to cry. I was trying to hold myself together. Yes, I’m a little hormonal right now, but that doesn’t change my dreams.

I have a question that has been gnawing at my heart lately. I haven’t asked anyone because part of me doesn’t want to know the answer. In regards, to giving my heart’s desires, does that mean that God would want my dream of being a mom? If the Lord asks EVERYTHING of us, then does that mean that  He really wants me to get to the point of saying, “okay, God, I don’t want this dream anymore, I just want You”???

If that is true, then why did God even give me the desire to be mother?

In the past, I have thought that if it really comes down to living a life of singleness with no child, then I would do missions in an orphanage in some other part of the world. I have a friend who just built an orphanage with her husband in Tanzania. They leave in Florida, but they have “house mothers” who take care of the orphans. She told me the other day that I could be one their “house mothers” if I never had my own family.

My heart goes out to the many orphans in Tanzania. And I will probably do short-term mission trips to the country in the near future. However, I don’t want to be a “house mother” in Africa. I want to be a mommy to my own baby here at home in America.

Does that make me a “self-seeking hoarder”? Or does that just make me a woman? 

I know that I could live my whole life single and without a child. I know that it would be incredibly painful for me to endure, but I could do it. However, I know that if God turned His back on me, the pain would be far worse to endure.  

Without God in my life, I would be hopeless. I need Him. I need to feel loved by Him. I need His strength. I don’t know what my pastor would say about my desires being selfish or not, but I find comfort in knowing that the God who created and formed me placed these desires to be a mother in my heart. He knows my heartache. 


 I wasted my Saturday away in a coffin bed. If you would have told me 5 years ago that I’d be spending my weekends this way, I would have laughed hysterically. But that was before endometriosis started a battle with my insides.

Almost the whole day was spent wrapped around a heating pad, reading textbooks, and writing on proper running form. Sounds productive, but it really wasn’t.

My friends were going to the football game at the University. I had wanted to attempt the game, but I told them that I had tons of work to get done. Although I do have tons of work, that is not why I avoided the trip. No, to be honest, I didn’t want to go to the football game because the organs in my pelvic cavity were quivering in pain. 

A pain encouraged by my own doing early that morning. 

The night before, I had been hurting a lot. It was nearly impossible for me to get any sleep when my core was stinging so much. When I noticed the sun peaking through the blinds on Saturday morning, I got pissed off at this disease (I’m a crazy, happy, "morning person” so AM grumpiness is not usually my thing!), and how weak I had become physically the last couple of months.

I was mad because my body hurt...all the time. I was irritated that I couldn’t sleep. I was beyond tired of being sick. I wanted to wake up happy and health again. It was then, in my half-awake, pissed-off state, that I somehow convinced myself that I should try to jog again. I dismissed Dr. G’s voice and my own better judgement telling me otherwise. In fact, as ridiculous as this sounds, I reasoned that my atrophied body would be able to push through the pain if I could trigger a tiny "adrenaline rush".  

Adrenaline is a naturally occurring hormone in the body that produces the wonderful phenomenon we call “runner’s high”. It is also the hormone that we dig into when we are afraid and excited...and looking for an increase in physical strength. I’m sure everyone has heard a story about superhuman strength and how adrenaline can make the body do amazing things in emergencies (like a 95lb woman being able to lift a car to save her kid’s life). 

It is not likely that I would ever tap into this rush on a one mile journey, unless I was confronted with a life-threatening situation (like a killer bear). But when the body is hurting, sleep-deprived, and upset, all common sense and knowledge are gone in the pursuit of relief. I wanted to feel the “runners high” again. And I was determined to try. 

1 mile down, 25.2 more to go 
So, in my fueled aggression against endo, I got up and challenged the day with an old-lady jog. Every single step and in-between hurt. I kept telling myself that I was going to feel better as I pushed. 

Well, as you can probably guess, I didn’t feel better. I felt worse. The pain was rattling me inside. 

Still, I did it. I jogged. It took me 13 minutes total to complete a mile. Slow as eternity, but far better than the 30+ minutes it took me to walk that mile the day before. 

I took a photo (which didn’t turn out as well as I hoped because I couldn’t stand up straight at this point), showcasing my small feat, and posted it on Facebook to announce to my distant friends that I did a whole mile. Yes, The same athlete who boasted of crazy distances in the past is now proud of a mile.

I’m not sure if it is my “trainer mentality” or just my weird personality, but it seems that I always try to push the limits (even if they shouldn’t be pushed). When training, I tell others to “push past the pain”, “overcome adversity”, and all the other phrases we use to motivate ourselves. I can hear myself saying those words to so many. Be stronger. Be faster. Be better!

But sometimes, no matter how hard we try and push, we can’t take another step. Sometimes, the pain is so intense that we fall to the ground. And then spend the rest of our day laying in bed, trying to recover.

My strength to overcome lasted only 13 minutes. It was painful, but it was worth every second to know that I could do it. At the end of my jog, I stumbled in the house in tears. Pain flooded my core. My pelvis began to quiver and I literally dropped to the ground. 

But I got back up, eventually. Even if just to travel from my floor to the bed. Because, as every woman fighting this disease knows, that is what we do. 

After every surgery, all the hormones, disappointments, heartaches, and every painful, sleepless night, we push until we can’t push anymore. We fall to pieces a million times. And then we get back up. 

We don’t have a choice. 

My goal today is to make it to church. And stay out of my bed. Maybe I’ll hit up the jog in the evening. 

"It does not matter how many times you get knocked down, but how many times you get up"

Vince Lombardi

Friday, October 22, 2010

Just a female problem

A client of mine has lost 55 pounds in the last 14 weeks. When we started training, he was 267 pounds. He suffered from high cholesterol, high blood pressure, sleep apnea, low-testosterone, hypothyroid, and was borderline diabetic. 

The first time I had him get on a bike outside, he barely made it a mile. I am serious. I was glaring at his heart rate monitor on any incline out of fear that he was pushing too hard.

My client and I in August 2010
A lot has changed since that man was huffing and puffing on that first mile in July. He biked 100 miles in the Tour de Cure last week, raising awareness and financial support for the American Diabetes Association. He biked 150 miles at the end of September, raising awareness for the MS Society. In short, he’s kicking butt now. And I love it. 

This morning, as I was attempting to walk a mile in frustration and pain, my client biked past me. It was embarrassing to me because I knew I looked pathetic. I felt my whole face flush and I did my best not to cry. Here I was hobbling along and he’s getting ready to hit up the 40-mile bike ride I had mapped out for him.

After walking just a mile, my body hurt worse. The pain was intense all day. In class, I found myself wondering if there was an outlet near my desk where I could plug in a heating pad. 

I have been in bed with my heating pad pretty much since 4pm today. The pain in my pelvis is piercing. I’m exhausted, but I can’t find any relief. 

The other day, this client who has completely changed his life around, came to me with a gift. He handed me a bag of some wristbands. They are the type that most wear to raise awareness and support for a cause or disease. We get these wristbands whenever we do bike rides or runs for various organizations like the MS Society, ADA, St Jude Children’s Hospital, etc. When he handed me the bag of wristbands, I assumed he had signed up for a ride without me (which seems to be the case lately). I asked him what cause he was riding for next. And he said, “For your cause”. 

I didn’t quite understand what he was talking about until I looked at the wristbands he had made:

It kinda makes ya think. Is there any point in hoping? Is there any point in wearing a wristband?

Does anyone really care about finding a cure? 

I have ran for cancer, diabetes, multiple sclerosis, and other disease. I have biked for veterans and raising awareness on human slavery. 

But no one raises awareness for endometriosis. 

I have searched for races, rides, runs,  and walks for endo in the past. I cannot find anything. Maybe I am just clueless? After all, I didn’t even realize that I could connect with other women struggling with endo until I discovered the blog world. But it seems as though no one talks about it because it is a “female problem”. 

My client is amazing and I am beyond thankful for his heart and dedication. He continues to push, even though I can’t move. I know he meant only kindness when he had these wristbands made...and that makes me love them.

But to be honest, I don’t think anyone really cares. I think that if I wear these wristbands, someone might just think I am complaining about a bad period. 

Thursday, October 21, 2010

I want my life back...

July 2010

I love to run.

Every birthday that I have, I run my age in miles, plus one. No one else joins me. I do these "celebration runs" on my own. As the years go by, and the miles get longer, I’ve had to push myself a little bit more. I now wear a camelbak filled with water, carb gels, and my iphone (just in case). 

This past August, I ran 28 miles through the hills of Northwest Arkansas to celebrate my 27’th birthday. I had been in pain and bleeding for 2 weeks, but I was determined to not let Endometriosis take over my life. So, I practiced what I preach...and I pushed through. 

August 2010
7 days later,  I biked over 150 miles in one day on a hyrbid (fitness bike) to AR, MO, and OK. The pain was piercing at my ribs, while shooting down through my hip flexors, pelvis, and thighs. I was still bleeding without relief.

14 days later, I dropped my running down to 7-15 miles a day, 5x a week. And reduced my weight training due to lack of proper nutrition (I was having trouble eating without getting sick). The pain was so intense that I could not lay on my stomach. Any pressure applied would “sting” my abdomen and pelvis. 

On September 11’th, I was in the middle of a 85 mile bike ride benefiting the MS Society, when my body just completely broke down. My knee blew out along with my body. I was bleeding heavily and couldn’t move. I had to get picked up during the ride. It was the sickest I had been in a while. Yes, I should have known to back down in training before I got to the point where I couldn’t move. But I didn’t want to “give in”. I’m not weak and I am not a quitter. 


Today, I tried to walk a mile. After 32 minutes of slow shuffling, I finally made it back home and collapsed on the ground. My ribs, tummy, and pelvis are still stinging all over. I feel like everything inside of me has been crushed by a heavy weight. 

I can’t walk. It hurts when I sit up. It hurts when I lay down. I take hot baths and lay with my heating pad as much as possible. But this pain won’t go away. 

July 2010
I’m HEALTHY! I have lived like a fitness saint my whole life. I was terrified of drugs growing up, swearing to take care of my body the best that I could. And now I’m prescribed pills to survive. I still refuse the pain pills as much as possible. I don’t even like taking Ibuprofen. 

I eat veggies like a maniac. I never eat fried foods. Dairy and red meat are extremely scarce in my diet. Don’t tell me about the “natural way” to cure endo. Don’t tell me about how exercise helps the pain. Don’t even ask me if I take vitamins and get my Omegas. Just spare me the suggestions for “alternative treatment” because that is how I live anyway. My whole life has been wrapped up in health and fitness, yet I’m struggling to walk a mile.

I have studied and learned the body to help others with their health. I studied Kinesiology at the University of Arkansas. I have a few different training and nutrition certifications. I have taught health and fitness classes. Yet, all my efforts and knowledge amount to absolutely nothing. I can’t even live the life that I preach.

So, fine. I guess God can take my health and vitality, as well as my career. I’m losing the joy in my job when I’m forced to sit on the floor training clients. Along with my health, my relationships have gone to hell. Friends are sick of me canceling plans. No one wants to hear about pain. It just makes people feel uncomfortable when the personal trainer is shuffling around. 

People say to have hope and believe that this will get better. I say that all the time. But what else can we do, but hope? We have no choice! We have to keep fighting. There is no other way out....and it sucks. 

October 2010
My life is being drained from me. I have no strength. The athletic, muscular body I worked so hard to keep strong and sexy is fading fast. 

I’m tired of being sick. I’m tired of the pity looks from strangers as they see me struggling. If only they knew how I could kick butt in the gym, on the bike, or in my running shoes before. 

And those that say they love me, ignore me now. ‘Cause like I pointed out, pain makes people feel uncomfortable. 

Especially when the strong trainer is withering away. 

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Let go and let God

"Do not grieve, because your strength [comes from] rejoicing in the LORD.” ~Nehemiah 8:10

"You're blessed when you're at the end of your rope. With less of you there is more of God and his rule. You're blessed when you feel you've lost what is most dear to you. Only then can you be embraced by the One most dear to you.”
~ Matthew 5:3 & 4 (The Message)

I woke up this morning still processing how I ended up in the same spot as before. Another surgery. Followed by another round of Lupron. I kept thinking, “How am I supposed to deal with this?”. 

How do I come to terms with the fact that the endo won’t go away? How can I be hopeful and positive when I’m right back where I started? Except this time, I’m single. I am going through this on my own. The man who I was engaged to, who promised he’d fight this disease with me, gave up and left. He moved on. 

But this disease hasn’t. I still have to fight it. I can’t give up and walk away. I have to go through this “process” again. I don’t have a choice. The pain is not an option. The damage to my insides is not something I can ignore. 

At first, these thoughts made me throw a fit. I whined to God that it wasn’t fair. How come my ex-fiance can move on with life and I can’t? I am not saying that I want him back. He was not good enough for me. What I want is to be able to walk away from this disease, just like he did. 

I can kick and scream about how this isn’t fair, but that doesn’t change reality. I have endometriosis. There is no cure. I need surgery and Lupron to control it. I remind myself of the facts. I can fight like hell, but I can’t control this disease. It is out of my hands. “Let go and let God”. Isn’t that the phrase used in AA meetings? 

The months ahead don’t look very inviting. At 27, I shouldn’t be injecting myself with a chemical to make my body go through menopause. I shouldn’t be scared to death about infertility because of this disease. I shouldn’t be worrying about looking and feeling ugly because of the side effects from a drug. But this is where I am. 

"Let go and let God". I just have to trust Him with this sicknessI know that He’s got me. I know he won’t let me go. I know that He won’t walk away. 

"Trust God from the bottom of your heart;
   don't try to figure out everything on your own.
Listen for God's voice in everything you do, everywhere you go;
   He's the one who will keep you on track”

~Proverbs 3:5-6