Soar Like Eagles

She Went Wading in Her {Ocean of Dreams}

Original Art Journaling by Jennifer LeBlanc 2013 | All Rights Reserved

Have you ever had a dream so big that you kept it quiet, all to yourself? Maybe you had other dreams that you shared, but not this one?

I have a dream like that. An ocean-sized dream. And I've been exploring it lately. I've been wading in my ocean-sized dream. Tip-toeing in, feeling the rush of the waves pull out, leaving my feet firmly planted in the seafloor.

In this art journaling spread, I was trying to capture the feeling of checking out the water. Is it too cold? Is it too deep? Will I sink or swim? Are there sharks?

Do you have an ocean-sized dream? When was the last time you tip-toed in? Think of all the people who inspire you -- what if they never dreamed ocean-sized dreams? What if they never jumped in?

Through My Eyes

I look for beauty in every day. Every day, whether at home or out, I keep my eyes open for gifts. I can always find them in nature -- a little bird, a wildflower, clouds, trees, water, skylines. That's easy. But sometimes I'm indoors all day, and so then I have to look a bit harder to find the beauty.

But consciously or subconsciously, it's my daily mission to find it. When I do, I like to capture it. Here are some views of beauty through my eyes.

I hope you noticed the beauty this Christmas season.

A Legacy of Chronic Joy

A year ago today the world lost a bright light. A family in the Midwest lost a daughter and sister. Many of us in the blogging community lost a friend. I’ve written about her before. Maybe you read her blog and ‘knew’ her, as I felt I did. Maybe you have never heard of Sara Frankl, also known affectionately by her family and blog readers as Gitz.

Long before I blogged or knew I would be diagnosed with Ankylosing Spondylitis, I stumbled upon a blog written by a curly-haired red head with a great smile. I was intrigued immediately to read that this young woman, not much older than I, had AS, a chronic inflammatory disease that attacks the spine and joints.

I had known about AS since about the age of seven, when my dad was diagnosed with it. I liked to say the words, the many syllables tumbling off my tongue. I liked to wow my elementary school classmates with my ability to spell it.

What surprised me about Gitz and her diagnosis was that I had always heard the diagnosis my Dad had was a men’s disease. Women supposedly didn’t get it.

I had first had trouble with my ankles in early high school. A year or two later, my hips began to be a problem. I can’t remember not having back pain, but I thought that was normal. I thought everyone’s back hurt.

During my pregnancy in 2006, with my daughter Natalie, the pain became significant. I struggled to walk, sleep, dress, or get in and out of a car. The doctor thought it was Round Ligament Pain. I gained a lot of weight and when Natalie was born at 38 weeks, 4 days, she was 9 lbs 8 oz. When the epidural kicked in, it was the first time in my pregnancy that I hadn’t had pain.

During Natalie’s baby years, I was breastfeeding, partially co-sleeping, potty training my older daughter, and doing all of the tasks that need to be done with two small children and a household. I chalked my back and neck pain up to that. “I must’ve slept wrong,” “I shouldn’t have given Hannah a horsey back ride,” “I’m not sleeping enough for my body to heal from daily wear and tear.”

It was 2007 or 2008 when I began to wake with a stiff spine. This, I couldn’t dismiss. Pain, well, I’d had that for years. But stiffness? Not being able to bend properly or get out of bed easily? I was only in my late twenties – this couldn’t be normal.

It wasn’t long after that, those months of relying on a hot shower and Ibuprofen every morning to get me moving, before more symptoms began – low grade fever, extreme fatigue, my hips catching and giving out on me, pain in my feet and wrists, limping when I walked too far. And it felt like if I could get something, I did. I had shingles, then bronchitis. I coughed till I vomited and my ribs were so sore I felt like I’d been in a car accident.

In fall 2009 I had my first autoimmune flare. I didn’t know what was going on, but knew I felt terrible, and when it happened again the next spring, I began to think the word ‘arthritis.’ It was my older daughter’s Kindergarten school year. I was miserable and pushing through symptoms and fatigue every day to function and raise my daughters.

It was June 2010 when a chiropractor I was seeing said ‘Ankylosing Spondylitis.’

Later that month, my primary care doctor listened to me for 20 minutes before saying, “Definitely something autoimmune. Could be Rheumatoid Arthritis, could be Ankylosing Spondylitis.” She ordered the blood test for the gene HLA-B27, a gene strongly associated with spondyloarthropathies, the family of diseases that include Ankylosing Spondylitis.

I tested positive for the gene.

In September, a rheumatologist spent two full hours with me, and diagnosed me with AS.

Women do indeed get Ankylosing Spondylitis.

I spent a good portion of 2011 worrying about my mobility and wondering if I would eventually need hip replacements. I had to quit my outdoor walking routine. It was by far too hard on my joints. I still miss it.

I’ve gotten a little better with treatment, but two years have passed now, two years last Saturday since I was diagnosed, and I’m also worse in some ways. That’s the nature of this disease – to progress, to debilitate.

I have pain every day. I don’t know what pain-free feels like, because it’s been too long since I’ve experienced it.  There are many mornings, that I wake up in so much pain, I can’t even sort out where all it’s coming from. It hurts to walk most of the time. Sometimes it’s more severe and sometimes less, but the fatigue is always present, and if I can manage to function through the day, I will almost always need to crash after my girls go to bed.

My spine is in constant pain, sometimes I can’t sleep due to pain, and sometimes I have nerve pain down my right leg.

I’m thankful every day for many things that make my life easier and more comfortable. Hot showers, electric heating pads, knee braces, arthritis gloves, clogs that alleviate arthritis pain in my feet, slippers, my bed and recliner, memory foam pillows, and once in a while, my cane.

I’m in my early thirties and this is my life. It’s not the most difficult physical existence by any stretch, and while it can be life threatening, it isn’t often that AS is a fatal disease. I’m thankful for all of that. I’m thankful for what I can do.

I still worry about my future. I wonder if I’ll be in a wheelchair at my daughters’ graduations; if I’ll have my hips replaced by the time they get married.

I wonder if my spine will fuse.

I’ll tell you what helps the most. More than pain meds or physical therapy or resting or mobility aids, GRATITUDE helps.

My discovery of listing what I’m thankful for and its ability to create joy and happiness occurred years before I got sick and years before I ‘met’ Sara Frankl online. But in the months waiting for diagnosis, many sleepless nights I turned to her blog for wisdom and inspiration. And what she wrote, again and again, was that joy is a choice and life is a gift, and that even in the pain, she would choose joy.

I’m thankful for the gift of Sara Frankl. And today, one year since her death, I used my courage to go see a new doctor and try to fight for better quality of life so I can shine brighter and have more energy to leave my own legacy.


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You can read Sara's blog at: gitzengirl.blogspot.com

Traversing the {Chronic} Trail

“The marvelous richness of human experience would lose something of rewarding joy if there were no limitations to overcome. The hilltop hour would not be half so wonderful if there were no dark valleys to traverse.” {Helen Keller}

I read other blogs that chronicle personal lives of chronic illness, and they are soothing. I am not alone. I find myself inspired by reading how others manage their conditions, especially when they do so with great intention, deep thought, and positivity. 

So why am I afraid to write too much about my own condition? As human beings, aren't we longing for connection, for stories and accounts of what it's like for someone else?

I am afraid because I do not want to come across as dramatic or negative. I want to write the truth of what is, and quilt it together with inspiration and insights into hardship and suffering, comfort and prevailing joy. I want to show you my reality just as fact, not for attention or as an outlet for whining.

I have been struggling lately with this desire to express my experience. How do I do it in a way that is real and true and still inspirational?

How can I show you my world, through my eyes, so that you see (as I so often do) that hardships serve a tremendous purpose of bringing into focus what is important, and of amplifying the simple into a peace and joy that is enough?

I want to write to show those just becoming ill, just going through the diagnosis process, that there is beauty in a "chronic" life. I want to leave a map. And not just a map, but a sturdy pair of hiking boots that don't blister, and a bottle of cold water, and some hearty trail mix. I want to cheer you on up those hills so that you can see the beautiful view just over the top.

I'd love your input into how best to accomplish those goals.

Beauty in the Everyday

"Though we travel the world over to find the beautiful,
we must carry it with us or we find it not."

{Ralph Waldo Emerson}

Every day I like to look for beauty around me. Here are some things I found beautiful this week.

"Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in,
where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul."
{John Muir}

Happy weekend to you!

Flying Through the Storm

"The wise man in the storm prays to God,
not for safety from danger,
but deliverance from fear."
{Ralph Waldo Emerson}

Soar Anyway.

Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.

{Henry Wadsworth Longfellow}

Want to Fly?

Lessons of the Forest

Yesterday afternoon we went on a picnic at a nearby forestry center. What a beautiful place! We walked around the grounds, enjoyed a yummy lunch, waded in cool river water (being careful not to slip on the slimy rocks) and enjoyed the 89 degree sun.

The forest we visited had been completely destroyed by massive fires in the 1930s and '40s and all of the trees surrounding us were relative babies, as trees go, having been planted by busloads of school children and youth groups after the fires decimated the area. There was doubt as to whether the replanting would work, as elk would come along and eat two out of every three new trees. Now you wouldn't know that the forest had been consumed repeatedly by flames, and that there was nothing left but black chard; there's no trace of the fiery inferno or its total destruction.

The trees stand tall and straight, providing shade and cool patches and meandering hiking trails. There are picnic tables and benches and paths and a visitor's center and a beautiful river.

I am always inspired by water. I love the see the ocean and whenever I'm on vacation near the sea I begin to have phrases and words and sentences and ideas come to mind. The ocean is powerful and vast and I can't help but be inspired by its sheer presence. It seems to put into perspective whatever problems I carried when I arrived.

The forest and its trees had a similar effect, and I have been thinking all day about our time there yesterday and looking forward to another visit. I felt such hope there -- knowing everything around me had once been burned down, and was now growing, thriving, green and healthy.

I am still not feeling well, and am currently waiting to see a rheumatologist. My appointment is not until late September, but I am on a cancellation list. I am still having swelling, pain, stiffness, and low grade fever every day. I am more tired than usual and don't sleep as well. I am trying some supplements and dietary changes in the meantime, hoping to alleviate some of the symptoms. I've recently decided to try vastly reducing, or eliminating altogether, my intake of wheat and dairy, (no small decision for this lover of carbs and cheese) as they are thought to cause inflammation, which is the root of many autoimmune diseases.

Today the Live Art.fully Facebook page hit 200 fans. Live Art.fully is still a baby, less than a year old, and in celebration of having over 200 fans now, I wanted to have cupcakes. My husband found me gluten-free chocolate cake mix and chocolate frosting without dairy or gluten, and we were in business!

We made cupcakes and dinner and had friends over. Any evening with good food, good friends, laughter, support, music, holding babies, and chocolate is ok with me.

I don't know what my life will look like in the future. I don't know if my joints will deform or my spine will fuse. I don't know if I'll be able to maintain good health or if I'll need to let some things go. It's sometimes hard to wait to be diagnosed. There's some fear. But I plan to live my life, enjoying everything I can still do, to the best of my ability. I will try to maintain my humor and joy throughout the process.

I can have my cake and eat it too (even if it is gluten-free!) And if inflammation burns through my body, causing destruction and wreaking havoc, I will keep searching for ways to rebuild.

17 things i'm loving... {st. patrick's day}

1. daffodils & tulips

2. puffy white clouds

3. colored sky behind black tree & building silhouettes

4. bookstores

5. coffee shops

 6. being a family

7. my red laptop, affectionally called rouge

8. the pacific ocean

9. canson wirebound 7x10 journals

10. my live art.fully necklace, made by fabulous jewelry designer & blogger, lisa leonard.

11. kelle hampton's blog Enjoying the Small Things. kelle is a mother of 2 darling girls, professional photographer and writer. she blogs about the beauty in every day.

12. the growing journaling community on our live art.fully facebook fan page. become a fan and be a part of the discussions & inspiration.

13. hazelnut coffee creamer

14. lounge pants

15. the sound of the pouring rain late at night

16. pandora. register for free and type in your favorite song or artist. pandora creates a radio station based on what you entered. it's a great way to discover new artists.

17. a couple of green-clad girls, who are part irish.

what are you loving? 

Changing Seasons

When the weather begins to change, and one season morphs into the next, it is easy to think about other changes taking place around you and within you. The other morning I woke to a cold house. It felt like Fall. Today my daughter started Kindergarten, and the yellow school buses are busy with their pick-ups and drop-offs around town. It is a season for new crayons & pencils, sweaters, and new beginnings.

Make a list in your journal about the things you love about Fall. Lists are fun! They are easy, can be done quickly, you can use bullet points, or different colors of ink or fonts, whatever you like. Doodle a border around your list or use stickers or magazine pages to illustrate your page.

Here are a few of my fall favorites:
sweater weather
new jeans

fuzzy socks

hot drinks

the crisp smell in the air

the seasonal scents & flavors -- apple, caramel, pumpkin...
long evenings to savor
the crunch of brightly colored leaves beneath your feet
baking pumpkin bread & muffins

Seeking Beauty

I have sand on my feet as I write. The ocean inspires me like little else. What inspires you? In the midst of jobs, responsibilities, stress, deadlines, and obligations what feeds you? In starting this blog, I am attempting to create a space where inspiration and art can live. Like a packet of flower seeds, I hope this will be just the beginning of things to come -- for me and for you. Stop by and see what I'm thinking about, what's grabbing my attention and inspiring me. My hope is that you'll begin to search for authenticity; that you will look for beauty around you.

Stay tuned...