Love thru my diseased teenage eyes

Is love in our teen years really possible? I can pose this question now but in the moments of being 11-to-18 yrs old this question had a definite answer, yes! I sought out to find deep meaningful love from boys, not men or young men but boys. Of course that’s not how I saw it then, they were strapping young men ready to love so fiercely that I had to have their love in order to be someone. In order to be recognized as someone worth more than the disease my body harbored from both male and female peers. I simply thought that if I ‘became’ the person they wanted I could at least get a taste of what love was.  I suppressed so much of who I was, who I wanted to become that I actually became a person I hated.  I became a menace to society. I began dating boys whose hobbies included; stealing, drinking, drugs, sex, and where in and out of juvenile detention. This in my heart was not the road I wanted but the only road I thought would lead me to love.

The other aspect was that my dad had been a rebel of a teenager and I loved my dad. So I thought that if he is capable of love then so are these boys. The saying that little girls grow up to find partners like their fathers is true, unless, they have been raised in an environment that fosters self-esteem that will give them the confidence to reach higher, no matter how great their fathers were.

I went thru many boyfriends and after the end of each I truly felt like I would never find another. The cycle of dating and breaking up was crushing to my already invisible self-esteem. I was hiding so much of the true me and trying to fit a mold of someone I was not that it lead me to want to end my life.

In November 1999 was my first attempt to end my life. After having broken up with a boyfriend for infidelity (can that word even be used in teenage romance?). A boyfriend who was very close to my family, who had on a very basic level supported me thru some hard times in my illness along with my dad’s death, cheated on me. That experience was horrific for many reasons and it only etched deeper in my heart that I was damaged and was not worthy of truly being loved by a boy or man or anyone for that matter.

The idea that I was damaged goods was so powerful, mostly because no one every said to me that I wasn’t. No one of influence in my life ever spoke to me about my self-worth; that I was worth everything the world had to offer. Just a short year after my first attempt to take my life I tried to take it again. Looking back the first attempt really was a plea for help, a cry for attention. The attention needed was NOT my CF but rather my worth as a young impressionable female. The second attempt really was a true wholehearted desire to leave this world. I wanted to be free of discrimination, free of societies idea of value, free of the pain that accompanied CF. All of these things I could not or did not have maturity to express in verbal format.

During the second attempt my mother worked with healthcare professionals to help get me the best care. Their recommendation was an inpatient stay at Emanuel Hospital’s psychiatric ward. In preparation for this stay, I was taken directly from the psych ward at St. Charles Medical Center in Bend, Oregon to Emanuel in Portland, Oregon by security car without my mom or anyone. Just a locked police car of sorts that way I couldn’t escape with my bags that my mother had pack for me. All the clothing she packed had to meet certain requirements; like no drawstrings, as I could use the strings to hang myself. This was and is a very serious side of illness or depression. Upon arrival and after check-in I was in my barren room that consisted of a bare mattress on the floor and toilet whose flushing system was controlled outside my locked room, to my surprise I found a note that my mother had written while packing my bags….. “ I will go the ends of the earth for you.” Writing that makes me cry to this day. That statement was so powerful and still is powerful. I realized that I could push my mother, who loved me more than anyone else on earth, to a point of breaking and she would still write something like that. She, no matter whom else, would love me thru my darkest days. These boys would come and go. I would love and hate. I would find happiness only to have it taken. Yet my mother will always be there, to go to the ends of the earth with and for me!

I never did find that one and only during my teenage years. He never came along. I did find my strength and started to uncover my self-worth, but just a glimpse.

~Doodlin'

Wrapping it up

As we begin closing the books on May 2011, I want to conclude CF Awareness Month by saying this....

CF is horrible, not matter what side of the coin we look at.
CF has taken many things away from me and others with CF.
CF is painful; emotionally and physically.

... BUT...

CF has taught me many lessons for which I am SO grateful for.
CF has made me compassionate.
CF has made me fiercely independent.
CF has made me wise beyond my years.
CF has made me see what a blessing every breath we ALL take is.
CF has allowed me to be vulnerable.
CF has shown me love beyond measures.

... AND...

We might find a cure in my lifetime, but either way I have GOD on my side trumping EVERYTHING.
My life is fantastic because I have chosen mind over body; not every moment, but a good chunk of it.
We all will die, no pill or cure or potion or lotion will change this.

... THEREFORE...

I promise to be passionate about life until I take my last breath.
I promise to attempt to make the world better while I am here or at least make a difference.
I promise to never loose hope in life and justice for our out of control world.

Thank you for taking the time to read this months posts about Cystic Fibrosis. Knowledge is power!

Life is rich and messy. I hope I have enriched it.

~Doodlin'

Face of Flexibilty

My plan to introduce a new face of CF weekly was rudely interupted by Blogger not working last week. Which is so interesting because this weeks new face of CF presents that being flexible is vital to fighting CF with positive energy. Being able to take the challenges with some degree of flexibilty will allow you to live the best life you can.

Jerry Cahill has/is doing just that. He hasn't given up doing what he wants to do or enjoys doing but rather he has remained flexible as CF continues to throw rocks in his path. It's Not About CF gracioulsy introduces us into Jerry's CF journey and how he has handled this every changing disease.

~Doodlin'

Faces of Inspiration

CF has many faces. All have different journey's, different perspectives on CF and life and each have different symptoms from CF. Not every CF journey is devastatingly sad nor hopeful. But....but....some are. A CF journey that I find hopeful and inspirational is the one of a set of twins, Click Here to see their journey.

For me, I need both the hopeful and sad stories to gleam perspective from. For me, CF has given me things in life that I would not have had the opportunity for without it. It has given me insight where my eyes would been closed.

Don't be mistaken, I want need a cure.

So today I want you to see that hope can come from devastation and something beautiful from such ugliness, by reading about The Power of Two (please click the "Click Here" words).

~Doodlin'

A Face to CF

May is National CF Awareness Month.... not sure how I feel about this. I mean it's great that enough "Big" people (government) are aware of CF and the devastation it brings but it also deeply saddens me to think that we need a month because of how prevalent it really is, you know, sort of like National Adoption Month (November) there are so many orphans in the world that we need a month designated to making people aware of such crisis against humanity.

Well, the primary reason for dedicating an entire month is to focus on fundraising. Another sad, reality, money. But a secondary, which should be primary in my mind, is about getting those with CF's stories out to the world in hopes to put a face with CF. You all have seen my face, but take a look at this sweet boy, Conner.

This is why May is National CF Awareness Month. If you feel have the resources I encourage you to donate here or if you don't then please take sometime to educate yourself about CF.

~Doodlin'

A Pillow Soaked with Tears.

I lay hear in bed the clock flashing 2:34 a.m. and my is mind racing. The tears are flowing down my face, along my hair line soaking my pillow. I am alone, B is in Sisters, working. Why the tears?! Cystic Fibrosis.

I have boarded the crazy train, my boarding pass has me seated in 'temporary' and I am not hoping to be upgraded. I want off. I want a refund. I will walk whatever distance. Please God please!

I am afraid. I am lonely. I am starving. I am suffocating. I hate it with every fiber of my being. I hate all it has robbed from me. I hate it for what it will rob me of. I hate that I am crying over it. Hate is NOT a strong enough word.

I want to be free of this g-tube and tubing connecting me to the feeding machine for the next 5 hours of a 10 hour cycle. I want to roll over in bed without having to untangle myself.

I want a cure. Yesterday. Until then my pillow will help dry away my tears.

~Doodlin'

An Amazing Friend

This is shout out to my friend, Gregor. Who is this person you ask? Why haven't I given notice to her/him? Well, you know its one of those too long too complicated to write out in a post things. The short version, however, is that she is amazing.

The friendship began during our awkward pre-pubescent years when it was only 'cool' to hang with a particular group/person. We were unlikely friends by most standards. She was an athletic, smart, clarinet playing weird-o, while I was an outrageously spontaneous rebellious 11-year old who disguised her smarts. We were in the same "home room" and were forced to into a friendship. Our friends were friends...Yuck! As the school year (1991-1992) progressed we sort of grew on each other. I liked her beautifully natural blonde hair, athletic build (which I would later hate her for), easy demeanor, and copy her homework.

The years of Junior High sort of flew by with the normal girl spats. One day hating each other the next vowing to NEVER talk to her again and other happenings like band concerts, school dances, sleep-overs (we practically lived together depending on who's parents let us), soccer games (which Gregor introduced me to) and more girly relationship building activities like note writing, talking about cute boys, etc. She became my life-source thru the school years. I am sure most of you remember or are parenting children thru these difficult years. There are alot of unhappy memories that come with growing up; bulling, name calling, outcasting, etc. Well, folks I was not immune to the harshness of other peers unkind words, thoughts, actions or their uneducated parents.

Ms. Gregor was by my side, for better or worse. Not really sure why, but she was and is. She spend nights and days in the hospital with me, even traveling to OHSU from Bend to be with me. She brought me homework, or just did it for me...shhhh.... She communicated with my teachers to help them better understand why I was out of class. She encouraged me to play soccer, she made me feel beautiful when the medications bloated my face just in time for school pictures (we laugh now at my chimp-munch cheeks), she stood up to my persecutors and slapped them in the face, literally and figuratively.

As the years rolled on, we sort of drifted apart during high school. We of course were still friends, but my rebellious side was in full gear and I ended up dating the boys who were in constant trouble with the law and unfortunately most of them still are to this day. I eventually stopped going to school all to together, I thought school was eating away at the possibility of having real-life experiences and on my short life span I needed to fulfill those experiences and not worry about education, I didn't think I would live long enough to use my educated mind. Until graduation started to creep up on me. I wanted to walk with Gregor, but because I wasn't around in class she had chosen someone else. I was heart-broken. It made me question why I wanted to graduate. Once I made up my mind I worked with a tutor to help me get thru senior year (unearthing my smarts making up a year in just 2 months!). I eventually made up time and was able to walk with my class, I walked behind Gregor, which in my mind was appropriate, she earned the lead.

As we both have grown into adulthood we have remained friends. Thru long distance, marriage, loosing a parent, cancer in a parent,  many other life-changing experiences and my ongoing medical issues, she has chosen to remain in my life. I have to be honest, at times, I can be hard to love. I can be opinionated, argumentative, depressed, difficult, hard-headed, hateful and down right negative. There are times when we go months without speaking or writing but when we connect its as though it was yesterday. We pick where we left off, knowing that life is messy.

She never feels sorry for me (at least doesn't show it) but encourages me to pick-up and continue on. She has been a shoulder of comfort and an ear that listens. She has spoken words of reason when mine were about to board/or had boarded the crazy-train. We have buried parents together; both under the worst of circumstances. We have laughed so hard that we cried. We have protected each other from life's unkindness. We have loved each other thru life's seasons of change. We are friends.

She is amazing. There will never be another.

~Doodlin'