Skip to main content

Raw, messy stuff

Nobody likes dealing with raw chicken. It’s messy, slimy, and hard to work with. Most people prefer cooked chicken, seasoned to perfection.

 The same way it goes in life. No one wants to deal with the raw and messy stuff; we prefer prepackaged order and predictability.
However, life is more of the raw stuff than the seasoned and prepared stuff. Currently, I’m going through a rough time. Some doctors call it bipolar; others say it’s postpartum depression. At the end of the day, most of them have no clue what’s wrong with me. They give their best guess, but end up calling me a complicated case, a special case, a unique case, “not my hardest patient but surely not my easiest.” Those are hard words to hear and even harder to process.

In the process, I’ve gained between 15-20 lbs. And am currently taking 6-7 different medications. this is by no means an easy or fun road.

Right now, wait is the name of the game. Two weeks, and I go for bloodwork to see that my thyroid has stabilized. Once my thyroid has stabilized, then we will focus on the pituitary gland tumor. Problem right now is that the surgery for that is only 30-40% effective, as these tumors grow back often. Other problem is that medication to shrink the tumor makes depression a whole lot worse. It’s going to take a skilled pharmacologist to figure everything out with all the medication I’m already on.

See I told you it’s 
Raw. Messy. Stuff.
And nobody likes it.
Especially not me.


Waiting on this season to end. Or should I say, waiting on my seasoning. Waiting on the day I can hear the timer on the oven going off. Knowing that my wait time is over. Chicken, it’s what’s for dinner.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

When Emotions Dance

When the clock strikes midnight, it’s time to get home.  But what we learn at the ball tonight, we need to make known.  Life’s not a party. It’s more of a dance. And thankfully, none of it is left to chance.  There IS an Orchestrator.  He chooses the songs - He handles the beat.  We simply decide what to do with our feet. For now, we sit at our table, content in our seats. We watch all the people.  We converse.  Laugh. And Repeat.  In walks Joy. (We all knew she was invited.)  Her presence alone makes everyone excited.  She’s an old friend, a sweet soul we all know.  She goes straight to the dance floor and (of course) steals the show.  Then suddenly, Joy steps off to the side.  It seems that something threw her off her stride.  It was him.  Everything changed when he entered in.  A sloppy, stinking young man walked through the door.  (People wonder if he’s ever been here before.)  With dirty cloth...

For inquiring minds that would like to know… here's our story.

For some of you in my life, you've been asking, praying, and waiting to see something noteworthy happening in my dating life. So have I. Because I don't exactly know where to start, I'll simply begin at the beginning. Jeff and I both went to school together at Trinity Christian Academy here in Jacksonville from kindergarten to twelfth grade. From first grade to sixth grade, we had all the same teachers. Because our last names are so similar alphabetically (Hazard and Hill), we were seemingly ALWAYS sitting next to each other. Seriously. Always. Around. Each. Other. haha… For those of you that know me well or have known me for a long time, you know that God's done quite the work in my life over the years in chipping away some (note: not all) of my childhood sassiness and giving me a sweet spirit in its place. However, for those of you that knew me then, you would readily agree that I was quite the "over-confident little girl" (to quote my daddy). ...

Unintended Audiences

God woke me up super early this morning with these thoughts running through my mind, so I suppose they are to help someone out there who’s struggling. I hope this letter, or FB “note,” encourages everyone out there – intended and unintended audiences alike. Unintended Audiences                 I’m sure it happens all the time in classrooms all around the world. Student A passes a note intended for Student B - only for it to be intercepted by the teacher. It’s actually quite the riot when the teacher is bold enough (and mean enough) to read the note in front of the entire classroom. It’s like a free pass into the secrets of that person’s life. The inner sanctum, if you will. The Holy of Holies, where everything is out in the open and raw before the presence of God and everyone else. But why, oh why, do people long (and maybe even love) to hear the content in the forbidden letters? Why do the unintended audiences...