Teaching your younger self

Have you ever wanted to go back and give yourself advice? I sure have.

If you could go back and give myself advice at different ages growing up, what would it be?

I would love to go back and tell an extremely self-conscious twelve-year-old that she was beautiful. To stand firm for what she believed and not to let bull-headed teenagers, including herself, get in her way. She had so many plans! She knew what she wanted to do when she was older, had found her first love in a boy who treated her pretty good and other than fighting with her parents every once in a while her life was going pretty smooth. I would teach her to believe in herself, and to realize that everyone has their own body type that they were born with. You just have to learn to love yourself a little more so you can accept and appreciate what you were given.

**You are Beautiful**

I would go back and tell a heartbroken 16-year-old girl who was learning first hand about losing some one she loved that the world will keep turning. Her world was rocked to its absolute core, but she will stand back up and put her pieces back together. I would tell her to be stronger than she had ever been. I would tell her that just because one boy could not wrap his head around staying around to live his life until it got better, that it was absolutely not a reflection of her. I would hold her tight and tell her that despite the miscarriage, despite the loss of the person she thought would be the love of her life, she will survive.

**You are stronger than you will ever realize**

I would go back and tell my 19-year-old self that being a single mom at 19 would not define me. This hiccup would turn out to be the best turning point of her life, and that jackass that chose to walk away from his son would never be able to emotionally or physically harm them again.  I would try to steady her world a bit and help her get her footing settled back into the right direction if I could. However all the times I started in a direction and had to back pedal to try a different path just made me focus a little harder.

**Mistakes are the worlds way of teaching you humility**

I would go back and tell the 22-year-old woman that adoption didn’t have to mean goodbye.  I would help her understand that sometimes the hardest choices are the safest. I would remind her that heartbreak is an old friend by now. And my advice that I would give her would be to give herself a break. Life happens in mysterious ways and it is ok to admit defeat and take some me time. You can’t be a great mom to the one you already have if you aren’t taking care of yourself.

**Forgiveness IS an option.  You are only human.**

I would go back and tell my 25-year-old cynical self that good things can happen. It is easy to become calloused and bitter. Putting up walls to shield your heart is healthy, as long as you have a way to break it down safely. If your wall has become a way to hide from reality in such a way that you can no longer recognize good things when they come your way, you may need rethink some things.  I would tell her to go on that date with the boy she worked with. Let her neighbor bring her flowers. Let that smile happen.

**You ARE worth it. Good things CAN happen to you.**

 

The trouble With Essure

Today I had yet another friend of mine come up to me and ask me about the symptoms I noticed that came from my nickel allergy with the Essure Implant, which is a permanent birth control. I have to say that we have reached the point now where everyone that I know that has had these implants except one has now realized that they were reacting.

That is sad news my friends.

Let me remind you that there is a live lawsuit going on for many folks that have had to go through this process and that they are not legally allowed to talk publicly about their circumstances.

That being said, I completely recommend that if you know anybody including yourself that has been implanted with this device, please search through the symptoms list and decide if any of these have affected your life.

It is easy to blame these individual things that you are noticing to anything else going on in life. I went through at least twenty smaller symptoms before the bigger ones started. The thing about all of them were that they all started after the Essure implant were put in. Some easily could have been things that would have started with age, or with the idea that I suddenly had 3 kids in my house instead of 2. Maybe the mood swings, low libido, blood pressure issues and weight gain were all because the addition of the newest little one. Maybe the swollen ankles came from the quitting smoking right? And more of the weight gain? And the weird rashes all over my body got explained away as eczema even though the medicine never let it go away.

Guys this is the beginning of the list. We know this all just continues. Everything was ignored by not one, not even two, but THREE doctors. I had to be my own advocate. No one believed me. Holy hell, I barely believed me. If I had not have found other women going through the same thing I wouldn’t have grown a back bone and started pushing my doctors. My female doctor made me jump thousands of hoops. Not just for insurance either, she openly admitted all the way through this process that she wasn’t sold on it being the problem either.

I have always heard of invisible illnesses. I have close family members that go through this with doctors constantly. I never knew what that felt like. Now, I stand beside them instantly. They need people in their corner, even if I am the only cheerleader.

But this wasn’t invisible. They just though I was full of crap.

I can’t make you  read the symptom list. I can’t stand beside you and hold you when you start to notice the connection. I can’t force your doctors to believe you. However I am here, as moral support. As a friend that you can reach out to for advice, for someone to believe you or tell you the steps that I was put through to get to the other side.

The following link will open the best symptom list that I have found. It is updated and very well organized. This also will allow you to review a different site full of women’s stories and people to contact in regard to this awful device. This is not my list by any means.

Very well organized and updated symptom list for the Essure Implant

As of just this month or last, EVERY country outside of the US has stopped the sale of the ESSURE implant completely.

Just today, there are an unknown amount of women facing down Washington trying to get the United states to realize the lies that they are selling us with this product. They have lists of women affected, along with the symptoms that they have dealt with. The miscarriages. The babies that were born after the ESSURE was placed, some healthy, but a lot with developmental delays.

The start of this year federal judges were allowed to start reviewing class action lawsuits is the United States.

Be you own advocate. Find people on social media to help you understand what to do next. Lean on us and allow us to help you get through this.

Read more of my story involving my battle with Essure by following the following link. Please feel free to comment or message me.

My Essure Battle part 1

esisterstrong

 

What did life chose for you?

We all like to think that every single thing about ourselves could be a choice. Doesn’t it make you feel a little helpless to realize that some things, no matter how much that we try to say otherwise, are just not our choice?

Is cancer a choice?

Is being born with a birth defect a choice? Yes I understand that a number of those come from a choice of a parent, some are also NOT.  Some are genetic. Some are just a rare thing that happens for unknown reasons.

Is naturally having red hair a choice?

Dyslexia?

Thyroid disease?

Brain disorders?

So how can we accept those to be problems that we are born with, but depression is something that we must have chosen? When did mental illness become so shameful?

Why has it ever been frowned upon like it was a choice? I guess I don’t understand the reasons that it was ever looked at like it was not just another disease that you need to fight with regular medication and therapy, just as one would need to do with diabetes or a medical disorder that affects the muscular system.

Who gets to make these decisions? Who gets to decide who is better than who because of the way that their genetics made them?  Who gets to decide who lives their lives in hiding and who gets to be loud and proud of the lifestyle their DNA setup for them? What about the judgmental people who later in life has life events that change circumstances? Like a woman dealing with postpartum, or a man trying to deal the loss of his parent. Now is it suddenly acceptable?

Were you chosen to be the lucky one who lives their whole childhood healthy, watching others have asthma attacks or seizures? Did you ever have to go back and ask your parent what childhood diabetes meant and why some people needed to check their blood sugars?

Only to grow older and get told that you have cancer and will have to fight for your life while they inject more and more poisons into your body to fight the poison that is already there?

I hope for you judgmental folks to have healthy babies who have healthy babies. I hope for all of you that life doesn’t sneak up on you and teach you the reality of most people in the world. I hope that you never have to be proven wrong.

However I know you will be.

Because that’s what life is all about.

Being born into a life where most of our health conditions are not a choice.

Here is to hoping that the health conditions that life choses for you is on the “ACCEPTABLE” list.

I was chosen to be a Suicide Survivor

November 18 is National Suicide Survivor Day.

I never even knew that. I walked in a Suicide Awareness walk recently and I spent the majority of the time being quite alarmed at how many people just in my area had been directly affected by the loss of a loved one or friend.

This is one of those events that unless you go through it, you can not really explain it well. Everybody says that about everything don’t they? It is true. It’s this strange out-of-body experience that is simply unexplainable.

I was 16. He was my first love. At 16 you are more innocent than you are ever willing to admit. You don’t have a grasp on how long life really can be. You have no ability to realize that things will change. You don’t realize that the pain goes away. You don’t realize how a change in scenery can make everything different.

A mother lost her firstborn. A father lost who he thought would be the leader of the pact. A grandmother lost her grandson. Siblings lost a brother. I lost a best friend. A boyfriend. My first love. And it changes us all. Rocked our world into being unrecognizable.

It has been 15 years and while it has changed, has been ignored and seemingly has been forgotten by everyone around me, I still remember. I still cry for the soul that was lost. I still miss who he could have been. I miss what my life could have been. I have spent more time imagining the what if’s then I was ever able to actually spend with him.

I have no idea who he would be today. I have no idea if our love would have survived. I have no idea if we even would have kept in touch.

I will never have the ability to know.

I have read thousands of people’s stories online. I have volunteered at suicide hotlines. I have answered phone calls at 2 in the morning and run out just to be the shoulder that someone needed at that moment. I have made it known to anybody  who has access to my social media that I am ALWAYS available when you think you are alone. My number is always there for you to call.

It isn’t enough I feel. I can’t bring him back.

And so here I was, standing in a crowd of people who all have their own stories. And I was moved to tears to see how COMMON this problem has become. How in the hell has this become SO NORMAL??

Suicide is the 10th leading cause of death in the United States in 2017. 

Each year 44,193 AMERICANS die by suicide.

Suicide costs the United stated $51 Billion annually. 

Men die of suicide 3.5 times more than women. 

The average age of suicide victims? MIDDLE AGED WHITE MEN

Never Stop trying to help. Keep your eyes and hearts open. Mental illness is not a CHOICE. It should not be a stigma. It should not have to be hidden. It should not be something that they have to be ashamed of.

It starts and ends with your choices

When I was little, I would always notice that there seemed to be two types of people. 

The first type seemed to consist of people who were always too careful, too worried about other people’s opinions. They did what other people wanted, wore cloths to look like the peeple around them, and tried there best to “Just Fit In”. 

The second type tends to be more rambunctious. They are louder,  they laugh a lot and they seemed to flutter around and talk to everyone. 

Neither group seemed to be very deep into these conversations that they were having. Neither group seemed to really be listening to people, they kept it more superficial but I didn’t understand why. 

I never seemed to fit into those types of groups, and spent a long time thinking something was wrong with me because of that.

But I was wrong. 

For years I stayed around people I didn’t like, because I felt like it made me fit in better. I watched how much I voiced my opinions, because not everyone agreed with me and I am not always up for what feels like a violent debate on my opinion. People are asshole and they don’t like you to feel different then you, so they ram their opinions down your throat instead. 

For too long I worried about people’s feelings, when they blatantly did not care about mine. I stepped up to bat for them over and over again just to have them tear me to shreds when talking about me to others. I would even have the audacity to be HURT when words they said got back to me. 

For too many years I spoke negatively. I used my words to explain the wrongs around me, and not as much about the good things that were surrounding me. I can say that I did this because that’s seems to be the society norm (which it is) but that would be lying. I made a choice. 

It’s time for this all to change. You don’t get to have power over me society. I do. 

It’s time to make the choices that benefit my family and myself. I have neglected myself for far too long to be caught up in societies bullshit anymore. 

Some days I miss you

I am a suicide loss survivor. 

That sentence still gets me. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. It is a stark sentence that immediately joins you into a society you want no part of.  

The look of shock and pity that used to come my way has faded since I stopped telling people. 

I am not ashamed. As the years continue to go by, life changes. You aren’t forced to explain where someone’s dad is, or having to explain where a missing family member may be. 

Instead it was my high school best friend. My first love. My first person of the opposite sex that I connected so well with, it was like it was meant to be. 

And then it was gone. 

And I was left to pick up the pieces and rebuild. 

Most days I’m fine. It’s been a long time. I have an amazing husband and family, new best friends and old memories that I’m left to question and doubt. 

But some days I miss you. 

Moment in time

Some days I hear a song, and I am immediately thrown back in time. 

Some days, I’m going about my daily life, and I catch a scent, and I instantly have tears in my eyes. 

Some days, I see someone from youre family, and I feel my heart skip a few beats, fighting the emotions. 

Some days, I come across a picture and I realize I forgot what your face looks like.

 I can’t remember your voice anymore. 

I don’t remember what your hugs feel like anymore. 

I don’t remember if you loved me or not.