A Summer of Overcoming

I winged my way through an astonishing summer. Partly due to an effective treatment plan, partly due to my proverbial wings {essentially: pure courage}, and partly due to necessity. I was as close to thriving as I've been in years, but still, summer was a blur of activity and "too much" for this reflective, home-based creative with chronic pain.

It was a summer I'll cherish the memory of because it was packed and fast-paced, and I did it well. I'm still trying to process 1.) what all happened this summer, and 2.) how exactly I managed it.

I took my girls on day trips by myself -- days I drove and was away from home for many hours. I haven't been able to do that in a long time.

I hiked in the forest, and walked in my neighborhood, and experienced the zoo many times.

I did a road trip.

I navigated driving in places I haven't been before.

I took my kids to a lot of places and have the pictures to prove it.

I reclaimed, rose above, and overcame.

It was good. So good.

And I did hard things. Like saying goodbye to sweet auntie who died of terminal cancer in July. Like supporting a friend who said hello and goodbye to her baby girl in the space of an hour. Like things that were stressful and felt nearly impossible.

But it's mid-September now and I've gotta say:

I'm exhausted.

These exuberant "overcomer" wings are feeling ripped and rumpled. While I cherish the memories of reclaiming my independence this summer, hiking, trips, and an astounding amount of activity; while I look back on that with satisfaction, gratification, and astonishment, I'm desperately in need of rest now.

Whether it's due to seasonal changes (summer morphing into fall), or having overdone it on a pretty big scale, I am battling exhaustion, headaches, nausea, limping, morning stiffness, and the symptom that puts the fear in me faster than any other -- waking with a spine that feels shattered.

I desire nothing more right now than to hibernate for a couple months. To settle back into my cozy nest, snuggle my family, put my feet up, hang up my wings, and recover.

Back to our little cottage. Back to dance classes and learning at home. Back to {hopefully} writing and blogging more.

As it says in the Bible, there are seasons for things. Summer was an overcoming season. I'm hoping fall can be a recovering/rejuvenating season.

What kind of season are you in? How was your summer? Did you do brave things? Did you make great memories? I'd love to hear about it.

Wings: The Perfect Accessory

If you follow Live Art.fully on Facebook, you've no doubt noticed a theme over the last months.

WINGS

What does it mean when I say Use Your Wings, Rest Your Wings, Put On Your Brave Wings?

A couple of months ago, I had a week where my sacroiliac joints (the joints that connect your pelvis to your spine) were really flaring. They were swollen, which made them feel as if they were trying to jut through my skin. The pain was impressive. It was a week of Keep Going, just like almost all weeks -- do the laundry, do the dishes, clean the house, vacuum the floors, drive daughter to dance, pick up daughter from dance, take other daughter to the library, get groceries, rinse and repeat. 

Sometime during that week I realized that it felt like giant metal wings were trying to grow out of my back. Perhaps that's graphic, but as a writer and as someone with chronic pain, it often helps me to put my pain into words. I find it helps separate the pain from my self, if that makes sense.

As you can imagine, having metal jut out of your body isn't a good feeling. I've had this description crop up even in my sleep. Once I was having severe chest pain in my sleep. I dreamed that I was in a lot of pain, lifted my shirt and there was a bunch of metal that had erupted through my chest. In the dream, I very calmly noted this wasn't good, went to a doctor, told them I had Ankylosing Spondylitis and showed them my metal/chest. Ha!

So back to the Giant Metal Wings week, I realized that if instead of thinking, "My back is in such pain!", I thought of the pain as Growing my Wings, I could handle it better.

I wrote a little poem that day which included a line that said "my back grew wings." It was a symbolic, positive way of expressing my pain without spelling out the horror.

Famous artist Frida Kahlo was severely injured in a trolley accident in college and spent the rest of her life battling severe pain. She's quoted as saying, "Feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?"

That quote has become one of my favorites. When I'm having trouble with my mobility, I tuck that in my proverbial pocket and choose to "fly" for the day. It then doesn't matter if I'm in pain or if my feet aren't working properly or my hips or my knees, because I have wings. It's a mental game really; it's how I {Rise Above}. I find these mental games, and word phrases and images are a vital part of my pain toolkit. Maybe it's because I'm a writer and words hold such power for me, but I find that if I can just determine the right way of looking at things, I can soar.

Now when you see things in my art about flying, soaring, or wings, you'll know what it means. For me, more than anything, it's realizing the power of a positive attitude, and putting on that attitude like armor.

I may wear lounge clothes, a dress, or jeans, but I often add an invisible accessory, my wings!

She Chose to {Rise Above}

{Original Art Journaling by Jennifer LeBlanc 2013. All Rights Reserved}

Inspiration for my various creative interests hits intermittently. This week I was driven to the Mod Podge and messy art to hammer out a theme that was floating around in my thoughts for the last two weeks:

Rise Above

I don't know any women who aren't battling some kind of personal war. Maybe it's a health condition (I personally know women with Stage IV cancer, CFS/ME, Fibromyalgia, thyroid conditions, Rheumatoid Arthritis, Diabetes, Ankylosing Spondylitis, Interstitial Cystitis, chronic debilitating dizziness, migraines, chronic pelvic pain, and the list goes on...). Maybe it's navigating the waters of divorce, single parenthood, raising a child with special needs. Maybe it's depression, anxiety, financial stress, job stress, toxic family members, going back to school, or loss and grief.

What's incredible is that most of the women I know consistently deal with more than one challenge at once. And they show incredible strength and courage as they do so.

{Rise Above} is a spread that wanted to show that process. How it looks in my life. Your Rise Above spread would likely have different stones of difficulty at the bottom, and different clouds of creatively rising above.

Some of the stones in my life are Ankylosing Spondylitis (AS), miscarriage, multiple surgeries, pain, missing my child who never reached my arms, and severe fatigue.

What are your stones? What stones do you see women around you overcoming?

I love the layers of meaning in this spread. The lady has lassoed her dreams that are seemingly unattainable. She is holding them like balloons or flying them like kites. They are pulling her up, hot air balloon style, in her cage of difficulty, helping her soar above the stones that could trip her.

She's using her dreams to help her rise above. 

Another thought I had while working on this spread is that our stones of difficulty can either be stumbling blocks or stepping stones in life. Which are yours? 

You might use this as a prompt for journaling or an art project. What are your stones and how do you rise above? Or take a few minutes to jot a note to someone you see fighting to rise above. Tell her you admire her strength, offer help, or drop off flowers or cupcakes at her door. There is perhaps nothing more inspiring than women coming alongside other women.