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.

The Gift That Keeps On Giving

I've hit a really bad patch with my chronic illness.

The fatigue is drowning me. The pain is pushing me to my limits. And don't ask me about my ability to think, concentrate or spell. What once was easy is now a marathon of limitation and difficulty.

I limp to bed discouraged. I'm crying. Again. A rotating calendar on my nightstand catches my eye. It's the God in the Moment Inspirational DayBrightener by DaySpring. Its daily quotes are taken from one of my favorite books, One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp.

The quote says:

YES! Not "I'm worried." Not "I'm stressed out."
Not "I'm anxious." Not "I'm too afraid." Hear me say thank you.
Hear me say YES! Watch me live a life of yes. 

A few days later it says this: "God created the world out of nothing, and as long as we are nothing, He can make something out of us." Martin Luther's words hit me right where I am, feeling emptied of all strength and ability. I am weak and He says that in my weakness, His strength is made perfect. How does that work?

I've been wanting to reread Ann's book, but I can't concentrate long enough. DaySpring sends me two things to review and the other, the little gift book of Ann's words and photography, is just right. Beautiful pictures that remind me to breathe. Beautiful words in bite-sized chunks I can handle.

In this very hard time, in a time of waiting and hanging on to hope, Ann's reminders buoy me. Oh yes, I think, this does help. I'll say thank you for what is good. I'll say thank you for what I can still do. I'll be grateful for the supportive people in my life. I'll try focusing on the good because it will be amplified.

Chronic illness presses hard, crushing the breath out of me. My chest hurts, my hips hurt, my ribs feel broken.

Chronic gratitude infuses life, a whiff of grace. It's the gift that keeps on giving.

So tonight, after a particularly hard pain day, I type this post not just to review these beautiful products, but to say Thank you to God, Thank you to Ann, and Thank you to DaySpring, for reminding me of what and Whose I am, all I have to be grateful for, and how to make thanksgiving a lifestyle.

*DaySpring sent these products at no expense to me, in exchange for my honest review.*God in the Moment DayBrightener can be ordered here; One Thousand Gifts Photo Gift Book can be found here. 

Journey to Brave: The Realities of Daily Pain

{Art journaling by Jennifer LeBlanc 2012. All Rights Reserved.}

Pain is an opportunity to practice courage.

People have told me how amazed they are that I continue smiling through the pain. That's not always the case, and this picture was taken to prove that. I post it with trepidation. It's not pretty. Neither is severe pain or living with it.

The picture on the left was taken on my way to church with my family. This is what people often see. I'm done up and out. I look 'normal.' I am likely in significant pain even when I look like the left picture. What people don't see is the effort it takes to get the pain under control and get myself looking like this and get out the door. The picture on the right is what people rarely see. This was taken the other night while I was in a severe episode of Costochondritis, a frequent symptom I have, when the inflammation flares in my sternum, rib cage and chest. This particular attack was my spine, ribs, chest, sternum, all the way around, front, back and sides. I literally felt "IN pain." I was inside of it and it held me in its clutches as if I were a bird in a cage. Costochondritis is commonly described as feeling like you are having a heart attack or an elephant is sitting on your chest. It's incredibly painful and makes every breath painful as well.

If it helps you to understand better, check out this image.

The chest is made up of many, many bones and joints. I could feel every single one.

I do not write this for your sympathy or pity. I do not write this to complain. My reason for posting this is to help raise awareness. Because I am just one of the mass of people out there living with daily pain. 

If you are one of those with chronic pain, I write this for you. I write this to say, "You are not alone!" 

{My daughter drew this picture to illustrate an elephant on Mommy's chest}

Pain takes its toll, especially severe pain. It is difficult, and sometimes not possible, to live a normal life of responsibilities and activities when pain is part of your daily reality. 

Please understand that we are not lazy if we sleep more than you do. We are not "lucky" to have frequent rest times. I cannot tell you how frustrating it is for me, as a person who thrives on being productive, to have to rest while life all around me doesn't stop.

And because life doesn't stop for chronic pain and illness, as it might temporarily pause for those who take a sick day from work, I have to learn what I can and cannot manage. I have pain every day, 24/7. I honestly can no longer remember what pain-free feels like. So please understand if I cannot watch your kids, lead out in activities or events, or if I have to cancel our afternoon get-together or play date.

I cannot express what a gift it is when people don't judge. When you say, "I'd love to get together but please feel free to cancel if you're having a bad day." When you're at the store and you text me to see if I need something picked up. These are real life examples of things my friends have done for me in the last week. You are a gift to me. Your understanding, or willingness to try to understand, is not something I take for granted. Thank you!

I firmly believe that if you just look for them, there will always be more blessings than struggles.

The Friend in My Pocket

"Make new friends and keep the old,

One is silver and the other gold."

She is a new friend that feels "old" in the best possible way. A treasure, precious; gold.

I tuck her in my pocket and carry her around with me throughout the day -- sometimes almost literally -- our words connecting our hearts via texts from iPhone to iPhone carried in pocket and purse.

I text to report on what my body is doing today -- maybe hips are limping, maybe a spine is stiffened, maybe hands are swollen. I tell her what my heart is feeling -- maybe stressed and maybe blessed. Often, as authentic life goes, a measure of each. I tell her what my girls are doing, what our day is holding.

She tells me things back.

One of my kids acts out in public and I go home, deflated. It never ceases to amaze me how my girls' behavior can thrill me or undo me.

I text her, my phone making a little whoosh as the message of "My day just went south" zips its way through mysterious channels of technology to ding into her phone.

I am returning Redbox DVDs, comfy in velour pants and ballet flats, comforted by the silence of no children on this errand; inspired by the fresh air and lighting of dusk when my phone alerts me of her reply.

I hold my breath as I read in my parked car. She is new after all. Will she judge my motherhood; my babes (grown in the protection of my body, in the space beneath my heart)? My babes I've spent nearly 24/7 with since their birth? Motherhood is of utmost importance to me -- the desire to put in the time, do the work, give it my best (which so often feels like not good enough).

She says the perfect things, her words a balm to a bruised Mama-soul.

Her message lightens my load as she volunteers to help carry it. I find comfort in her understanding and non-judgment.

She is new, but she is gold.

Thankful for a pocket friend tonight.

Building Community

There are several things that are important to me in life and with this blog. One of those things is authenticity. I want to be real, without being negative, and I want to represent only the truth, not a fake version of myself or my life.

Another thing is that I want Live Art.fully to be a community, not just a platform from which I write.

So in the interest of ensuring the development and continuity of those things, I thought we might do a {Tell Me Your Story} post. I would love to know more about YOU (if you are reading this, then yes, I mean you, especially if you are a lurker and haven't commented here before), and I want you to know me.

If you have questions about me, my illness, my life, my art or writing, my family, etc... please feel free to ask in the comments.

And I would love to know a few things about you. So please share:

Why do you read/follow Live Art.fully?

Where where you raised and/or where are you currently living?

What makes you come alive, and do you take time for it on a regular basis?

What's your favorite snack?

What's your favorite movie or TV show?

And please, if you are living with chronic pain or illness, share a little bit about that and how it effects your life.

I love the idea of Live Art.fully being a place where friendships begin or strengthen, and where we can encourage each other. If we were to meet for tea or coffee, what would you tell me about your story?

The Story of Live Art.fully

The year I turned 30, between two trials in my life, I adopted a way of looking at the world. It is a perspective, if you will, that is much more than two words can contain. I dubbed it Live Art.fully.

To Live Art.fully, bare bones, is to live fully, using art. But how do you live fully? And what if you're not an artist? Then what?

I spent most of my life convincing myself I was not an artist. I was creative, yes. I was a writer, or at least wanted to be. I doodled, wrote poetry, and scribbled endlessly in spiral bound books. I read voraciously. I loved hearing people's stories and at times, liked to tell my own, especially through the medium of writing. I loved drama & acting. I dabbled in music, learning three musical instruments and singing, but mastering none. I liked taking pictures. Through school, personal, and professional endeavors, I learned elements of design, layout, formatting, writing, editing, and publishing.

But I was not, absolutely not, an artist.

What I have learned is that what I do, all those outlets of creativity, is art. My life is an artful life.

Everyone faces obstacles in their lives, some more than others, and everyone has their own tragedies. I am not exempt from that, and have experienced many things in my life that were painful. You have read about some of them in previous posts.

What I learned, and still learn nearly daily, is that growth is a choice. We can take these hard things and let them help us grow. It's not easy. It's not pain-free. It's very difficult sometimes. But I can use my...

courage

resilience

honesty

positivity

faith

writing & art

...to heal, to grow, to process, to learn, to truly live an artful, authentic life.

If and when I fall, I get up. And so do you.