Living Life in Limbo

I’ve been living in limbo for almost four years now….  Four years ago I was in the process of expanding my business, planning a vacation for my family, teaching fitness classes, and working towards various personal, family, and professional goals.  Then, one fateful day in October, I collapsed on said family vacation and all the pieces of my life were instantly suspended in space and time.    

It kind of sounds like a movie plot.  Maybe it could be, except the most exciting parts seem to have already happened.  Limbo, where I sit today, isn’t very exciting.  I can imagine the void of my life where all my hopes and dreams are floating in some viscous liquid that’s holding everything in suspended motion.  I’d like to rescue those dreams, but they are just too far away and my head is hammering and my limbs are made of lead and I’m just too stinking tired to move.

It’s raining and thundering outside right now and my mood is matching.  I used to love a good summer rainstorm, but now it just means that the barometric pressure is low and my P.O.T.S./ Dysautonomia is flaring. 

Today I was supposed to be going on vacation with my family—well, actually we were supposed to leave yesterday, but I was too worn out after a doctor appointment, packing, and little sleep.  So we decided to wait until today.  Postponing plans is always a toss-up—is the crudiness I feel today going to be better or worse tomorrow?  Well, I lost the toss up; it’s definitely worse today, so no traveling is happening in the near future.  I’m hoping tomorrow will be better, but, if not, I’ll send my family on without me—as I have for so many trips the last few years.

We made plans for this trip over a year ago.  It’s only a few hours away, but I haven’t travelled that far by car in the last four years, so it was probably a bit of a stretch to think I could do it.  Of course, a year ago when we planned it I thought “surely I will have improved enough by then to go.” 

Ha!

What is that saying?  “You make plans and God laughs.”  I have definitely learned that my plans are not always His plans, and I believe God has a sense of humor, but I don’t think he’s laughing at me right now.  I’m pretty sure He’s crying with me. 

Living in limbo is so hard!  I feel like I’ve put parts of my life on hold until an unknown time in hopes that I might someday feel better.  

How can I make plans if I don’t know how I’m going to feel a year from now, a week from now, or even a day from now?  Honestly, things can change within minutes.  How can I set goals if I have no idea if I’ll have the capacity to achieve them?  My grand ambitions on a good day generally just glare back at me with a menacing laugh on my bad days. 

At the same time though, how can I NOT make plans?  If I don’t make plans, I don’t have anything to look forward to. Without goals I have nothing to strive for.  But having aspirations can also so easily lead to heartache when plans fail.

Yet, I have to keep hoping and searching for something that helps me feel better.  Fortunately/unfortunately, I subscribe too earnestly to the concept of Hope sometimes.  I have one good day and all of a sudden I find myself making plans for future days that I expect to feel good-- only to realize that my medication didn’t help as much as I thought, my CSF fluid is leaking again, or that something so unchangeable as the weather can control my ability to function.

Sometimes I wonder if I am going to live the rest of my life in limbo— never being able to fully plan, do, or be what I want….

*****

I’m sorry.... This post has taken a much more dismal look at my life than I intended.  So, before I drown in misery (think Alice in Wonderland engulfed in her sea of tears), I’ll stop myself now and try to end my ramblings on a more positive note (because sometimes I have to remind myself of the good things too). 

I was re-reading this talk by Elder Kyle McKay this week, and I love his thoughts on the immediate goodness of God that comes while we are waiting in limbo for the bigger blessings we desire.  He says:

“[God’s] time, and frequently His timing, is different from ours…. But my message today is that, even while we are patiently waiting upon the Lord, there are certain blessings that come to us immediately.

"The immediate goodness of God comes to all who call upon Him with real intent and full purpose of heart. This includes those who cry out in earnest desperation, when deliverance seems so distant and suffering seems prolonged, even intensified....

"God also gives immediate hope for eventual deliverance. No matter what, no matter where, in Christ and through Christ there is always hope smiling brightly before us.  Immediately before us.”

I can testify of the immediate goodness of God.  It's the rainbow that comes during the storm.  It doesn't make the storm go away, but it certainly makes it more bearable.  

Sometimes that immediate goodness comes in the form of:

• An inspired message from a friend
• My husband giving me a hug or making me laugh
• A note left on my pillow from my tender-hearted son (and Puppy Puppy)

• The ability to finally fall asleep after enduring hours of a migraine
• Getting an appointment with a knowledgeable doctor
• Being able to leave the house after days of cabin fever
• Having the energy and ability to help or serve someone else
• A quiet feeling of comfort and peace

Despite the bleakness that living in limbo can yield, and though I can’t always readily feel it or see it, I know that “there is hope smiling brightly before me.”  As I lay here in limbo waiting for the miracle that will heal my body, I can still reach for and feel God’s grace in my life as he sends me the tender mercies and immediate blessings I need. 

Post Script: I wrote this post over a week ago and I’m happy to report that I was able to see some of that immediate goodness soon after!  I really debated going, but I did, indeed, make it on our family vacation!  I may have only left the hotel a handful of times and had a few rough days there (and have definitely had some down days recovering afterwards), but I kept my expectations low, and am just grateful for the time I was able to spend with my family.

Flecks of Gold: Finding Joy

I noticed a trend in New Year's resolutions this year-- rather than just setting goals, I saw many people also deciding on themes for the year.  One of my friend's posted that her theme was to "Strive." Rather than feeling like she had to achieve a set number of goals, she wanted to simply work on "striving" to be better and improve in many areas of her life.  I love that idea! 

I've thought a lot about what my goals and life's theme are for this year.  (I know, it's June- I'm a bit behind as usual).  Goal setting is especially hard for me right now-- not because I don't have goals or ambitions (recovering overachiever here!), but because my body has so many physical limitations.  It's honestly pretty soul-crushing to put my hopes into something that may never come to fruition or easily slip from my grasp due to circumstances out my control.  Though my POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) symptoms have improved a bit over the last few years, there are still many days I can't get out of bed, and a good 3-6 days a week that I am rendered useless when my chronic headaches turn into debilitating migraines. 

  

Photo credit: Sean Peck. This was after a late spring snow storm.
 I think it's a beautiful depiction of blooming despite hardship.

My daily goals are usually pretty simple-- make it through my inbox of work emails and projects, get some very "light" exercise in when possible, enjoy dinner with my family, read to and sing songs with my kids before bedtime.  Some days, even those goals are a little too lofty for me though.  But it's really the failed plans like, "attend my daughter's concert" or "make it to my twins' school program" that are especially hard to swallow. For some reason, after 2.5 years of dealing with the repercussions of this chronic illness, it's still hard for me to grasp the concept that just because I felt good enough to do something yesterday, doesn't mean I will be able to do it again today (in fact, because I did something yesterday, I will probably won't be able to do much today!)

But as I've thought about goals and themes, the word that keeps chasing me down and poking me in the ribs (or sometimes just taunting me) is JOY.  Joy is what I have been looking for the past few years as I've tried to come to grips with my crippled life.  It's what we all seek, right?  It's the seemingly intangible holy grail.  I'm not just talking about the thrill you get on a roller coaster ride, but that deep down warm, happy, content feeling in your heart. 

Photo credit: Sara Young

This chronic illness journey has given me a lot of and ups and downs… and downs and ups and downs and downs. It's hard not to get depressed or lose hope when you feel so cruddy all the time. It can be hard to feel happiness and joy when there's sludge running through your veins and an ice pick chipping away at your brain. 

Not long ago, after a particularly rough string of bad days, I happened upon a talk by M. Russell Ballard.  It was exactly what I needed to hear. 

He told the story of a young man who sold all his possessions and left his home in Boston in 1849 in search of gold in California.  He worked tirelessly, day after day, dipping his pan into the river and coming up empty.  After many fruitless days he became discouraged and distraught. He had spent all his money, put in so much time and effort, and was seeing no reward.  The young man was just about ready to give up when he came upon an old prospector with a bulging pouch of gold.  He ask the old man how he had found so much gold. 

Photo credit: Sara Young

The prospector replied that you just need to know where to look for it.  He then picked up a rock from the young man's discarded pile and smashed it to reveal the flecks of gold within. 

"But," the young man protested, "I want to find  large nuggets of gold like you have in your pouch, not just tiny flecks!"

The old prospector took the bulging pouch from his waist and opened it so the boy could see that it did not hold large nuggets, but thousands of tiny flecks of gold.  He said, "It seems to me that you have been so busy searching for nuggets of gold that, you have been missing out on all the precious flecks along the way."

Sometimes my life feels like it has gaping holes.  I'm sad about missing out on those large nuggets of gold.  I am incredibly wanderlust- I love to travel and have adventures, but anymore I just feel confined in my home and claustrophobic from cabin fever.  I want to  vacation with my husband and family.  I want to go hiking or ride my bike around the lake like I used to.  I want to get in the car and drive myself to a store, spend an hour shopping, and drive home.  I want to make it to all my kids activities and events and help at their schools.  I want to have the energy to go to an exercise class or run around with my kids in the back yard.  I want to see my mom again and feel her hug and hear her tell me everything is going to be alright.  I want to not be light-headed every time I stand up or have anxiety about passing out every time I'm in public.  I want to be able to better serve my family and friends.

But I know that when focusing on those elusive nuggets, I am missing out on all the precious flecks of gold around me.  These are just a few of those flecks that bring me joy:

• I find joy in being a rock star in my own home. (I love when my twins shout "Mom!" and run to hug me every time I emerge from my room.)
• I find joy in getting and giving hugs to my kids.
• I find joy in reading stories to my kids and our nightly bedtime ritual when everyone piles on my bed and we sing songs and say prayer together.
• I find joy in days with blue skies and sunshine.
• I find joy from floating in the pool and staring up into a cloudy sky at sunset.

Photo credit: Sara Young (Sarah's pictures always bring me joy!)

• I find joy in watching my kids make good choices or show kindness to others.
• I find joy in family game night.
• I find joy in hanging out or joking around with my teenagers.
• I find joy in visiting with thoughtful friends.
• I find joy in the days I'm able to feel productive.
• I find joy in the times I can leave the house and return home without incident.

Oh happy day! I made it to the Tulip festival with my family last month.

• I find joy in the matching little electric scooters that my daughter and I got to cruise around the neighborhood. (I can't go often or for long, but it gives me a sense of freedom I haven't had for a long time.)
• I find joy in my amazing husband-- how much he does to make our family and house run, for comforting me constantly, and for making me laugh every day.
• I find joy in the small acts of service I'm able to do or when I can occasionally feeling like I have helped someone else.
• I find joy in my faith and testimony of Christ.

Photo credit: Sara Young

 Russell M. Nelson said, "When the focus of our lives is on Jesus Christ and His gospel, we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives…. We can feel joy even while having a bad day, a bad week, or even a bad year!  The joy we feel has little to do with the circumstances of our lives and everything to do with the focus of our lives."

I testify that this statement is true.  My illness is horrible, but that does not mean that my life is horrible.  I can find joy and peace in my life, despite my circumstance.  I may not be happy every single day, but I can choose to rely on my Savior, have hope, and appreciate the small miracles, amazing people, and tender mercies He places in my life.  I can find joy.

Why My Illness Defines Me

As a subscriber to various chronic illness forums, I often hear the phrase, “My illness does not define me.”  I have pondered on that statement and asked myself the same question.  Does my autoimmune disease or POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) define me? 

When I look at my life today, I can’t seem to separate myself from my illness.  I am still me, but I can’t deny the effect of my limitations or the experiences caused by my disorders.  Certainly there are moments in my timeline that only exist because of my sickness.  In fact, most of my experiences these days are defined (or confined, rather) by my illness.

Many of these events and the memories they have produced have not been wholly positive.  For example: 

• Every time I go out in public in my wheelchair wearing knee-high compression socks, dark sunglasses, and noise-cancelling headphones and feeling awkward and conspicuous.  

• That embarrassing time that my wheelchair hit a bump, tipped over, and I found myself prostrate on the asphalt in a crowded venue and unable to get up. 

• That time that I had a decent day and thought I was doing well enough to attend a friend’s party, only to become a public spectacle when I passed out on her couch.

• Or that time that a stranger patted me on the head and told me I was a “pretty girl”-- as if he were speaking to a child or someone mentally handicapped just because I was in a wheelchair.  (I’m sure he had the best intentions…)

• Or those multiple times before my diagnosis when various health care providers accused me of being drunk (I’ve never had a drink in my life), on drugs, or needing a psych consult because they couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me.  And that one doctor, in particular, that got up in my face while having a cataplectic, adrenaline-dump, pseudo-seizure attack in the ER, and started yelling at me that he knew I was “faking it.”

• Or the many, MANY times that I have missed out on my kids’ recitals, performances, games, graduations or family activities and vacations because I was too sick to attend…. Those are the hardest.

These experiences have all been defined by my illness.  But what about me, myself?  Am I defined by my illness?  

I recently saw a quote by Brené Brown that helped clarify this question for me.  She said, “The irony is that we attempt to disown our difficult stories to appear more whole or more acceptable, but our wholeness—even our wholeheartedness—actually depends on the integration of ALL our experiences, including the fails.”

Having POTS has definitely changed my life and changed me with it.  It has made parts of my life harder.  It has provided unsavory experiences (as aforementioned) that I never want to endure again, and some that seem to be stuck, like Groundhog’s Day, on repeat (like waking up feeling disoriented, sick, and drugged every single day). 

But it is not all bad.  Having chronic illness has also refined me.

• Having a chronic illness, and all the experiences that come with it, has made me more compassionate and more empathetic towards others.  I understand what it’s like to not feel whole, and my heart aches for others that are struggling. 

• Having a chronic illness has increased my gratitude.  I have such an appreciation for the little things in life that I used to take for granted.  I am grateful for good days and precious time spent with my kids, family, and friends.  I relish the moments I get to snuggle my kids and celebrate when I feel good enough to leave the house (and return home again without major incident).  

• Having a chronic illness has humbled me.  It’s a difficult thing to not be self-sufficient all the time.  It’s hard to rely so much on others and to accept help when needed.  (I’m still often stubborn.)  It has helped me realize that we are all in this together—to lift and help each other, which has also increased my desire to help and serve others in the ways that I can. 

• Having a chronic illness has allowed/forced me to be creative.  Being a busy-body that has had to spend so much time in bed has forced me to figure out things I can do from bed to feel productive (like write a blog) and search for ways to still feel useful in helping my family and others when I can’t physically do as much.  

• Having a chronic illness has taught me that I can’t take myself too seriously.  For example, when I couldn’t physically walk from one room to another, I had to laugh when my husband had to drag me around on a blanket (mostly so I wouldn’t cry).  I also don’t worry about wearing make-up, doing my hair, or looking nice most days because what little energy I have I prefer to put towards time with my kids, or working, or trying to exercise to help myself improve. 

(I'm gonna admit it... I feel super vulnerable posting this picture
because I still struggle with the image of myself in a wheelchair.
Something I'm still working on...)

• Having a chronic illness has forced me to de-stress.  Pre-POTS I was always a mover and shaker—as well as big ball of stress.  Patience has never been my virtue and sitting still was not a thing I could abide well.  Although I had health issues well before my “great POTS crash of 2015,” I didn’t allow myself the time to rest and recover as I needed.  I pushed through until my body finally gave out and I couldn’t push anymore.  Learning to let go of all that stress I carried around was HARD.  But I now see that a lot of the things I used to worry about, don’t really matter.  And, in many ways, I am a happier person for that.

• Last but not least,having a chronic illness has increased my faith I have always had a strong testimony, but through my experiences, I’ve had to rely even more on my Heavenly Father and my Savior, and I have seen their influence in my life each and every day.

So back to my original question—does my illness define me?  While I am certainly more than just a girl with POTS (or a “pretty girl” in a wheelchair), chronic illness has certainly played its role in making me who I am today —or at least clarified the parts of me that needed a stronger definition.  So my answer to that question would have to be a resounding yes.  It DOES define me.  For better and for worse, my illness is part of me, perhaps just one part, but it has defined my experiences and my life, which in turn, have refined and defined me.  

Why I Choose to Love Mother's Day (from a Perfectly Imperfect Mom)

Mother’s Day evokes a lot of mixed emotions for me, as I know it does for many others. 

As a child, I loved Mother’s Day.  I loved the opportunity to show my mom how much I adored her.  This was usually accomplished with a rudimentary card plastered with hearts, homemade coupons for hugs, kisses, and extra chores, and a bouquet of dandelions from the lawn and lilacs that were cut off our lilac bushes in the back yard.

As a teenager, however, I discovered that my mom hated Mother’s Day.  I couldn’t imagine why!  Besides the sneezing fits and watering eyes from her allergies to the weeds and flowers we gave her, didn’t she appreciate the gifts, songs, and outpouring of affection she got from her kids?  It wasn’t until I was a mom myself that I understood the negative association that many women have with Mother’s Day.

Instead of basking in the glory of being a mom, grandma, aunt, sister, or woman, Mother’s Day has, for many, turned into a day of guilt and an examination of shattered expectations.  At church and on social media we hear about idyllic mothers who have sacrificed everything for their kids—raising the bar for moms everywhere to live up to and adding to that never-ceasing mom-guilt we all carry around.

Additionally, rather than a day for respite, Mother’s Day is oftentimes only accentuated by the mundane motherly tasks that don’t exactly fill our hearts with joy.  Whether it be getting up with crying kids, cleaning up toys, making dinner, or wiping those dirty bottoms, it sometimes makes it hard to cherish everything it means to be a mom.

Having lost my own mother a few years ago, Mother’s Day has also become one more poignant reminder of the gaping hole in my life and my heart— that my own personal cheerleader is no longer a phone call away to buoy me up and tell me that everything is going to be alright.

Being a mom is hard and sometimes it doesn’t always feel like there is a lot to celebrate.

However, my perspective has changed a lot in the last couple of years since becoming home bound and often bed bound with POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) and autoimmune issues.  You would think the fact that I can now do LESS as a mom would make the ever-present mom guilt even worse—and in some respects it has.  There are certainly days that the “dark side” works hard on me to admit defeat amidst my crumbling losses.  But the lessons I have learned about letting go and celebrating the little things in life has also been liberating and provided clarity about my role as a mom.   

Being a chronically ill mom, I’ve had to drastically lower my expectations of myself (which has been incredibly hard for an over achiever and previously aspiring wonder-woman).  I’ve had to learn to let go of a lot of things that I want to do and be.  I’ve learned that many of the things I used to feel mom-guilt about don’t really matter that much.  I’ve learned to cherish the moments I have with my kids, and appreciate the days I am able to spend time with and help them (even if it is just wiping a dirty bottom).

As President Monson has reminded us, “If you are still in the process of raising children, be aware that the piles and piles of laundry will disappear all too soon and that you will, to your surprise, miss them profoundly.”

So with all this in mind, I have decided to change the way I view Mother’s Day.  I have decided to make it a day of thanksgiving rather than a day of comparisons and shattered expectations.  I have decided that I want to relish the time that my kids are still young enough to give me hugs and kisses, make homemade cards, and pick dandelions from the lawn.  I have decided to embrace Mother’s Day as a day to rejoice in my sacred calling as a mother and appreciate the sweet spirits that God has given me stewardship over.

I know that I am far from the perfect mom.  I recognize that, even in my condition, there is still a lot I can do to improve.  I also understand that there are a lot of things out of my control that I can do nothing about, so I shouldn’t worry about them (sometimes easier said than done). 

M. Russell Ballard said, "There is no one perfect way to be a good mother.  Each situation is unique.  Each mother has different challenges, different skills and abilities, and certainly different children.  The choice is different and unique for each mother and each family.  Many are able to be “full-time moms,” at least during the most formative years of their children’s lives, and many others would like to be.  Some may have to work part-or full-time; some may work at home; some may divide their lives into periods of home and family and work.  What matters is that a mother loves her children deeply and, in keeping with the devotion she has for God and her husband, prioritizes them above all else."

In case you missed it the first time: “There is no one perfect way to be a good mother!”  While there are certainly plenty of wrong ways (most of which would land child protective services at your door), there is not just one right way to mother.  What is right for one family may not be right for another.  What is right for one child, may not be right for another.  Thus, there is no point in comparing! 

Heavenly Father gave MY children to ME, so He must have the confidence that I am the right mother for them and their needs--despite my faults and my short comings, and for me, specifically, despite the fact that I am mothering from bed most days.  I am the mom that was divinely selected for my kids and they were divinely selected for me, and that is worth celebrating!   

So on this Mother’s Day, I choose to appreciate this day for what it is—with no reliance on unrealistic expectations of myself or anyone else to make me happy.  I choose to be happy because I am a perfectly imperfect mom who recognizes my faults, strives to improve, tries to let go of the things I can’t control, appreciates the tender, happy, and not so happy moments I share with my family, and loves the heck out of my kids. 

My Hallmark Movie: What Matters Most

What do you do when you are stuck in bed for the better part of 15 months?  Watch an awful lot of lot of Hallmark movies, of course. While they are certainly predictable and perhaps a little too saccharine at times, they are low intensity, don’t require much thought, and upbeat—all things that work well for me right now. Having seen dozens of these movies the last year, I’ve discovered they all follow the same pattern. 

It goes like this:

• Life is going well
• A sudden change turns everything upside down
• Main character slowly starts to adjust and find happiness again
• Another dramatic plot twist occurs that generally requires the main character to make a tough decision, reflecting on the deep, heartfelt lessons she has learned over the course of the show and what really matters most in life, and oftentimes choose between her old life and new
• A decision is made and the best possible outcome emerges.  Everyone lives happily ever after.

One common subplot of the Hallmark movie is the dream sequence.  The main character wakes up to find that her life has totally changed—for better or worse.  At the end of the movie, she awakens, once again, to realize the “new life” was somehow just a dream and she is able to go back to her old life with a new found perspective to enrich and improve her life.

****

About a month ago I attended my son’s Eagle Court of Honor.  He has been working diligently on getting his Eagle Scout award for the last 5 years, including earning numerous merit badges and culminating in a 40+ hour service project that involved his family, neighbors, and community.  I was so proud of his accomplishment and so eager to attend his Court of Honor.  Yet, I showed up and was immediately overwhelmed by the light, noise, and chaos around me.  I started to crash and ended up passed out on the couch in the foyer.  (Fortunately, I was able to make it back in just long enough to see him be given his award, before my husband promptly wheeled me out and back home.)

I came home upset and discouraged, once again, at my limitations.  The thought occurred to me, “Why can’t my life be like a Hallmark movie?  Why can’t I just wake up and have my old life back!? (And, of course, still remember all those great heartfelt lessons I’ve learned from the past year.)”

Totally plausible, right?

Fast forward a couple weeks.  I had a good day!  I was able to go sit in the temple for a few minutes.  (For anyone not familiar, the LDS temple is a house of worship where sacred ordinances are performed and instruction received.  Everything in the temple is light, white, and bright.  People speak and act in reverent tones, and feelings of calm and peace prevail).  I had been unable to go to the temple for over a year, and while I couldn’t participate in any ordinances, I was so pleased to just go bask in the peaceful atmosphere for a few minutes. 

With my POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome), my tachycardia and excess adrenaline always make me feel somewhat frantic when I am sitting or standing.  And while those symptoms were still present, there was certainly a layer of calmness there that I have been craving.

As I sat in the celestial room, I reflected on my life circumstances and found myself caught up in silent prayer.  The thought came clearly to my mind that I have everything that matters most.   Yes, I dearly miss our family adventures—traveling, exploring, hiking, and biking.  Yes, I miss being able to go out with friends and throw or attend parties.  Yes, I miss wearing the nice clothes and jewelry hanging in my closet (yoga pants and t-shirts are my staple now).  Yes, I miss shopping the aisles of Target, Kohls, and Hobby Lobby looking for those great deals that give me a temporary high.  Yes, I miss helping at my kids’ school, going to their programs, and even cooking and cleaning for them.  Yes, I miss having the independence to go where I want when I want and not having to leave the house in a wheelchair or live in constant dread of passing out in public.  But, in the eternal scheme of things are those the things that really matter?

My family’s basic needs and wants are met.  I have an incredible, loving, and compassionate husband.  I have four amazingly sweet and healthy children.  I have family, neighbors, and friends that I love and that love me in return.  I have faith in Jesus Christ and His gospel.  I have everything that matters most.

****

Fast forward one more time to this past week.  On Christmas Eve I wasn’t feeling well (chalked it up to typical POTS stuff, plus straying from my restrictive diet).  However, by Tuesday my symptoms had escalated greatly. I was in more pain than I have ever been (including labor).  A trip to the doctor and, later, the ER proved fruitless as, after blood work and scans, no apparent problems could be identified.  For most of the week I have been curled up in bed with my pain level hovering at a 9/10.  It has been excruciating and unbearable.  I haven’t been able to eat, and even drinking water sparked intense pain that nothing could touch.  I sobbed from the pain, but also the terror that this might be my new reality. 

Miraculously, this weekend, the doctor’s office called to report that the initial screening that showed no infection was a false negative, and I did, in fact, have an infection.  (Hallelujah for an answer!).  After a heavily dosed antibiotic shot, I am extremely grateful to already be feeling some relief.  Although I’m not totally out of the woods, and still have further scans and tests next week, I am so grateful for any relief and pray that the intense level of pain does not return (and appreciate any additional prayers on that front as well!)

In some ways, I guess my life is a little like a Hallmark movie-- a sudden life change last year, working to find happiness again with my new conditions, even a dramatic plot twist this week.... Perhaps this past week is similar to the dream sequence (I hope I’m now fully awake from the nightmare and that it’s not a tell-tale sign of things to come).  It has certainly given me more room for reflection on what I am grateful for.  Although I am not a stranger to chronic pain, it has given me more compassion for others that live with constant levels of such high pain.  My typical POTS symptoms, though awful, seem like a walk in the park after the last week I’ve had.  I have seen proof of the saying, “Things can always be worse,” and regained perspective and gratitude for the seemingly lesser problems I have.  As I move forward facing the sometimes bitterness of reality, I cling to the sweet reminder I was given that I have everything that matters most.

Strengthening Marriage: Being the Kind of Spouse I want to Have

I was recently asked to write a talk about marriage.  I’ve appreciated the opportunity to take a closer look at things I can do to improve my relationship with my husband, despite my current state of health.  The following is geared towards everyone that seeks to improve their marriage relationship. 

Maintaining a Strong and Healthy Relationship with Your Spouse

  

Henry B. Eyring has said, “There is no more important commitment in time or in eternity than marriage."

And yet, life sometimes gets in the way.  I know there have been many times in my life where after dealing with work, kids, school, extracurricular activities, house, laundry, church responsibilities, and more, that my poor husband is the last person to receive my attention.  Currently, with my illness, my time of feeling “good” is so limited, I have to be so picky about what my priorities are and how I spend my time, as I can only do so much in a day.  

So amidst our chaotic lives, how can we make marriage a priority and how can we strengthen and maintain a good relationship with our spouse?

A piece of advice often given to those who are single is to be the kind of person you want to marry.  This advice shouldn't end once we've found our companion, however.  

We should strive to be the kind of spouse we want to have.  

The golden rule most certainly applies to marriage.

So what is the kind of spouse we all want to have?  I have thought about this a lot the past week, and have come up with a rather long, yet I'm sure not all-inclusive, list of things I seek or treasure in my spouse.  Thus, I know these are the things I need to work on for myself, as well, in order to improve my marriage.

1.      I want to be a spouse that is kind.  Why is it that we are often kinder to strangers than we are to our own family whom we love?

2.      I want to be someone who takes time for and listens to my spouse.  We need to go on dates, share the exciting and mundane details of our days and, with the age of electronic devices in full force, put down our phones and have quality conversations and connections with no self-inflicted distractions. 

3.      I want to be a spouse that shows empathy and seeks to understand.  We may not always have the same opinion or point of view, and that’s okay.  But we shouldn’t discount our spouse’s point of view because it isn’t the same as ours.  As Stephen Covey has counseled, “Seek first to understand, then to be understood.”  

4.      I want to be someone who is quick to recognize my spouse's accomplishments and show gratitude for his actions.  So many of the mundane daily tasks in our lives may start to seem commonplace—but don't let them go unnoticed!  Show gratitude often.  I'm amazed at how much more willing I am to cheerfully serve my family when I know they recognize and appreciate my efforts. 

Additionally, if we can focus on the positive things each other is doing, it helps us to avoid dwelling on the things they aren't doing or we wish they would do-- which only leads to negative feelings and frustration.

Linda Burton said, "The nature of male and female spirits is such that they complete each other.  We are here to help, lift, and rejoice with each other as we try to become our very best selves.  Barbara B. Smith wisely taught, ‘There is so much more of happiness to be had when we can rejoice in another’s successes and not just in our own.’  When we seek to “complete” rather than “compete,” it is so much easier to cheer each other on!”

5.   Along these same lines, I want to be someone who apologizes and also forgives.

Linda Burton posed a question that helps put this principle in perspective.  She asked, "When was the last time I chose to be happy rather than demanding to be ‘right’?"

Steven Snow said, “Unnecessary pride can dissolve family relationships, break up marriages, and destroy friendships. It is especially important to remember humility when you feel contention rising in your home. Think of all the heartache you can avoid by humbling yourself to say, “I’m sorry”; “That was inconsiderate of me”; “What would you like to do?”; “I just wasn’t thinking”; or “I’m very proud of you.” If these little phrases were humbly used, there would be less contention and more peace in our homes.

6.   I want to be someone who thinks often about the needs of my spouse and how I can help.  While I may not be able to physically help him with every trial, sadness, or stressor in his life, I can always, always pray for him.

7.      I want to be someone that is happy and strives to make my spouse and others happy. 

Gordon B. Hinckley said, "Life is to be enjoyed, not just endured."  I also love Russel M. Nelson’s recent talk where he said “we can feel joy regardless of what is happening—or not happening—in our lives.”  We can be happy, even if life is not going the way we planned.  That is certainly a lesson we have learned in our family this past year, and I am so grateful for my husband who helps me smile and laugh every day.

Take care of yourself so you can take care of your spouse.

In addition to concentrating on these areas of improvement, there are two other principles of focus that I feel are important for a strong marriage.  The first is to take care of yourself.  I know this sounds counter-intuitive when talking about marriage, but I would assert that if your basic needs are taken care of, it will be easier for you to take care of the needs of others.

Barbara Smith said, "The state of our health affects every facet of our life—our feeling of personal well-being, our approach to work, our social interactions—even our service to the Lord.” 

One of the bumpiest times in my marriage was after our twins were born.  They were preemies and slow to eat-- you'd just finish feeding and changing them both when it was about time to start over. They were colicky and screamed for hours every night.  They got RSV (a respiratory infection) early on which had lingering effects for almost a year after.  And it seemed like they never, ever, EVER slept at the same time or for more than an hour or two at a time.  Thus, we also rarely slept and merely coexisted in a state of constant exhaustion.  Needless to say, the frazzled ends of our patience tended to ignite much faster than should have— not because we didn’t care about each other, but simply because our basic needs (particularly that of sleep) were not being met.

There is a well-known health theory called Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs.  Imagine a pyramid with five tiers or levels.  The bottom level is your most basic physiological needs-- such as food, water, and sleep.  The second tier is safety, then friendship and belonging, esteem and respect, and at the very top is self-actualization, or feelings of fulfillment-- something we all want to achieve.

The premise of the theory is that it is hard to reach a higher level of the pyramid until the needs on the lower levels have been met.  For example, if you were hungry enough, I imagine you would be willing to risk your safety (in the second tier) in order to obtain food.  Similarly, how much harder is it to give or receive kindness, patience, love and compassion when you are hungry, tired, and stressed?

Jeffrey Holland has said, "Fatigue is the common enemy of us all--so slow down, rest up, replenish, and refill."

If we take the time to take care for ourselves through rest, a healthy diet, exercise, and mindfulness, it will enable us to better attend to our marriage.  We can also help our spouses do the same-- which may mean giving them time to exercise or encouraging them to refresh by getting out of the house to spend time with friends, focus on hobby, or walk the aisles of Target alone without any needy children.

Trust in the Lord

Of course, despite our best efforts, we can’t fully eliminate stress or exhaustion in our lives.  But Todd D. Christofferson has assured us that, “Much that is good, much that is essential--even sometimes all that is necessary for now--can be achieved in less than ideal circumstances.”

So that is where my final words of advice come into play: “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; and lean not unto thine own understanding.  In all thy ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct they paths.” (Proverbs 3:5-6)

Source: http://www.crosscards.com/cards/scripture-cards/trust-in-the-lord-tulips.html

We are told that we can do all things through Christ.  Moroni 7:33 says, "If ye will have faith in me ye shall have power to do whatsoever thing is expedient in me." 

Marriage is ordained of God. He wants us to be successful, and He has promised to help.  Pray for and with your spouse.  Rely on your Savior as you strive to strengthen your relationship with each other.  In so doing, we can follow the proverb “Thee lift me and I’ll lift thee, and we’ll ascend together.”