I'm so angry. And tired. But not like physically tired, just tired emotionally.
I took a few weeks off because I wanted to be kinder to my body. It was hard writing everyday. It took a few hours. Hours that I should have been reading to the men. Or hours I should have been sleeping. Or hours I definitely should have been watching tv.
But today is a good day for an update. A humorless update. Because I'm angry and tired. And looking at the computer screen is making me nauseous.
I finished my 30 day worm cleanse and am still alive. I had a really REALLY good week towards the end. My lungs felt great. I had great energy. I felt me-ish. I went to my ND while feeling this great and I left with a good report. The first good one I've had from her. My treatment plan was beginning to show signs of breakthrough. It felt so good to hear that. I've cried many times in her office getting worse and worse news, so to have good news was beyond magical.
Do you know that when I get a bad report, she asks my body if there is an emotion holding back healing? Guys, nothing can break you faster than when your body tells the practitioner your deepest secrets. Your pushed back, hidden. When your practitioner tells you that your body can't heal because of too much terror. . . . Not anxiety. Not fear. Not uncertainty. But hard terror. You just cry. Your ugly that desperately needed a name has a name. And it's the truth. And now you have a name to pray against.
All of this journey is ugly and lonely and filled with terror. Because I don't know what tomorrow looks like. It's a centimeter forward and 14 giant leaps back.
The constant questions of: is your diet helping you? Are you feeling better? The answer is: I DON'T KNOW!!!! But I do know that I DO feel better than I did back in April. I can see marked progress. I know that I'm on a healing journey that's headed in the right-ish direction. I know that for the rest of my life I will have this autoimmune disease. There is no cure. Just the constant conscience decision of being kind to my body. Making beneficial choices when it comes to eating. When it comes to social situations. I LOVE saying no. It's really my favorite. And I NEVER feel guilty.
Marriage is hard right now too. I don't have the energy to try to put my thoughts into complete and comprehensible sentences. That's how I feel with praying too. I just need to be telepathic with Jesus and Big D for awhile. There is so much messy going on that needs so much work. And I literally am sweeping it all under the rug until formation of thought and word can happen.
The kids do nothing but fight. It just sounds like a continual 911 phone call being made, that tone of a ridiculously high-strung human. That tone . . . . . The fighting and fighting and complaining . .. . . And I think to myself, heaven sounds so wonderful.
WW sleeps in our bed every night. It's not the end of the world, but it makes sleeping not as wonderful as one could hope.
Hence the anger. Because nothing is going right. It's just chaos. At home. In the world. On silly stupid facebook. And all I want to do is: be warm naked, do yoga on an incredible beach, drink some form of delicious drink, and hear and feel peace. Where people love each other because of each other. Because we're such gifts to each other and we forget that. To see the good and THAT to be focused on. To speak only truth to each other.
And all of this not-righness, can start with me. I need to be ok that life isn't heavenly. That time will come. I need to greet this mountain with freakin' joy. I need to be a restful place for others. I need to speak with as much tongue control as I can muster. And I need to believe and give myself permission to LIVE WELL now. In the really ugly, messy. I don't need to, nor should I ever wait - for good, before I allow myself to enjoy, or smile, or engage. Or whatever "living well" means to me in that moment.
On a worm note:
Lots of stuff came out. I am looking very forward to my next cleanse in another 90ish days. Right now I'm doing my lung cleanses. So far I feel like it's a complete waste of my time. After that I'll move on to the kidney cleanse. And then I'll begin the "waiting" protocol until I can do another 30 day, kill the worm cleanse.
My diet:
Continues to be strict. But I have been cleared for sweet potatoes, peas, and rice. I have also added in beans occasionally. It is AMAZING how those 3 simple foods make eating that much easier and more enjoyable.
And now I'm going to go disappear for another stretch of time, desperately hiding in the moments of peace, willing my adrenal glands to heal.
Can I give you permission to live well, now, too?
Monday, October 10, 2016
Thursday, September 15, 2016
Day 16
I'm struggling with anger today. A wise lady once told me that when you struggle with anger it generally is because there are things in your life that you have no control over. And you're mad about it. And stressed about it. And clearly not kicking them off to God to deal with. "Them" being our stressors.
I'm glad I've been given this wisdom. I'm glad for people speaking truth into my life. Can we all do that a little more to and for each other? Gosh darn it, lets all stop being offended by so much silly stupid stuff.
So I'm angry today. I don't notice it until I'm just trying to eat my blasted breakfast. And I can't. I can't even sit down to cram day 58th's worth of eggs down my throat. It's constant stupid mothering. (Read "stupid" right. I'm not saying mothering is stupid. I'm saying stupid mothering, as in - break up this fight, clean up the pee that was thrown out of anger, find my cup before I die...)
And before I know it, I'm angry. I'm not angry because I can't eat. Frustrated, yes. But the anger comes from that which I can't control. The stuff where I literally have to take second seat and just wait and watch and hope. So much hope.
I think the parasites are having a hay-day in my bladder. It's awesome. And frustrating. Waiting, watching, hoping.
The parasites are also effecting my lungs (which I haven't talked about) Which is 399573 times frustrating. More waiting, watching, hoping.
As another dear old goat said to me, "I guess I never realized how much truth there is with the 'stress can kill you' "thought/scientifically proven piece of awesome evidence. Yup, living and breathing (sorta) the dream over here.
So I'm angry and worn down. It's only Thursday and this week should have had 14 Thursdays in it - according to how slow it's moving.
Side comment/story - Sometimes God speaks to us directly. And sometimes very indirectly. Sometimes gently and sometimes it's like a cold hard slap across the most tenderest of fatty bits on your body. The past few days I think He's speaking indirectly but very forcefully. Can that even make sense? There's no other explanation.
I'm not a good "housewife". We live like pigs. We have a semi-picked up house, and that's only because the kids do it. But cleaned? Never. And I think God is trying to make a point.
The first 3 pee piles were awesome. My floor was starting to look and feel quite clean with all the mopping. Throwing mother's flipflops through the kitchen while she was cooking dinner and knocking over her FULL glass of fresh lemon water, only brought more joy. And clean counter stools. The shattered raw almond jar from the freezer, made me gulp slightly. That was only $7 worth of almonds that needed to be thrown out. But at least I got to vacuum my freshly mopped floor. The cracks between my tiles are so crumb-free and magnificently fine looking. But the best part of all yesterday, was the fine cherry of a shit storm, on top. Slash Hansel and Gretel, slash Easter egg hunt, slash how much is God and the entire heavenly host laughing right now, slash this much poop is not possible - unless your kid ate a cup of raisins without chewing. So I guess that would be swallowing.
I would love to spend more time talking about:
A) How Big D thinks he could be on the high school girl's swim team.
B) How the tea I'm drinking tastes like a moldy tampon.
C) How I found a worm that resembled a chia seed in my underwears. All rolled up. And I saved it for Big D.
Also, I ate a sweet potato last night. I could hear Christmas bells ringing as I was preparing them. And then when I cut into them to portion out. Steaming and so sweety soft, I found them riddled with worms. We each ate a teaspoon worth of worm-free sweet potato. Which classified last night's dinner officially as Tiny Tim's Christmas Dinner.
PS - writing this much as taken 2 1/2 hours. That's how wonderful life is over here.
I'm glad I've been given this wisdom. I'm glad for people speaking truth into my life. Can we all do that a little more to and for each other? Gosh darn it, lets all stop being offended by so much silly stupid stuff.
So I'm angry today. I don't notice it until I'm just trying to eat my blasted breakfast. And I can't. I can't even sit down to cram day 58th's worth of eggs down my throat. It's constant stupid mothering. (Read "stupid" right. I'm not saying mothering is stupid. I'm saying stupid mothering, as in - break up this fight, clean up the pee that was thrown out of anger, find my cup before I die...)
And before I know it, I'm angry. I'm not angry because I can't eat. Frustrated, yes. But the anger comes from that which I can't control. The stuff where I literally have to take second seat and just wait and watch and hope. So much hope.
I think the parasites are having a hay-day in my bladder. It's awesome. And frustrating. Waiting, watching, hoping.
The parasites are also effecting my lungs (which I haven't talked about) Which is 399573 times frustrating. More waiting, watching, hoping.
As another dear old goat said to me, "I guess I never realized how much truth there is with the 'stress can kill you' "thought/scientifically proven piece of awesome evidence. Yup, living and breathing (sorta) the dream over here.
So I'm angry and worn down. It's only Thursday and this week should have had 14 Thursdays in it - according to how slow it's moving.
Side comment/story - Sometimes God speaks to us directly. And sometimes very indirectly. Sometimes gently and sometimes it's like a cold hard slap across the most tenderest of fatty bits on your body. The past few days I think He's speaking indirectly but very forcefully. Can that even make sense? There's no other explanation.
I'm not a good "housewife". We live like pigs. We have a semi-picked up house, and that's only because the kids do it. But cleaned? Never. And I think God is trying to make a point.
The first 3 pee piles were awesome. My floor was starting to look and feel quite clean with all the mopping. Throwing mother's flipflops through the kitchen while she was cooking dinner and knocking over her FULL glass of fresh lemon water, only brought more joy. And clean counter stools. The shattered raw almond jar from the freezer, made me gulp slightly. That was only $7 worth of almonds that needed to be thrown out. But at least I got to vacuum my freshly mopped floor. The cracks between my tiles are so crumb-free and magnificently fine looking. But the best part of all yesterday, was the fine cherry of a shit storm, on top. Slash Hansel and Gretel, slash Easter egg hunt, slash how much is God and the entire heavenly host laughing right now, slash this much poop is not possible - unless your kid ate a cup of raisins without chewing. So I guess that would be swallowing.
I would love to spend more time talking about:
A) How Big D thinks he could be on the high school girl's swim team.
B) How the tea I'm drinking tastes like a moldy tampon.
C) How I found a worm that resembled a chia seed in my underwears. All rolled up. And I saved it for Big D.
Also, I ate a sweet potato last night. I could hear Christmas bells ringing as I was preparing them. And then when I cut into them to portion out. Steaming and so sweety soft, I found them riddled with worms. We each ate a teaspoon worth of worm-free sweet potato. Which classified last night's dinner officially as Tiny Tim's Christmas Dinner.
PS - writing this much as taken 2 1/2 hours. That's how wonderful life is over here.
Tuesday, September 13, 2016
Day 14
I imagined I would be writing only about worms. But the truth of the matter, it's hard to write about something when they hide so well. In you and out of you. So I've come to terms with writing about the whole healing journey. (As if i haven't been doing that all ready) I've just come to terms with it today, and that's why I'm saying all this.
So today's daily dose of article reading is going to be on the Epstein Barr Virus and how that affects our bodies. I would love to know, did the chicken or the egg come first? In layman's terms - really, how did I get here? Because my whole previous life was a big shooting arrow straight to Hypo/hashi Land. What if I didn't eat gluten? Would that have made a difference? Or what if I didn't get mono ... ..would that have been the golden get out of Hellish Land for free ticket?
I think it was just meant to be. I think it was ordained and orchestrated, and the question remains - what am I going to do with it? It's almost as if I'm a real living Job. Just minus all the death and destruction and open skin wounds and ashes and sackcloth.
My next article is about bath time and how important baths are for cleaning and clearing out the toxins in our bodies. Actually that article doesn't say too much, just how to do it - but this one does. (If you scroll down) Ha! It's kinda like an oxymoron. Bath time and cleaning. Everybody knows that bath time is sit-in-your-own-filth time.
That's all I'm going to say today. I want to say more on the topics of beauty and marriage, but I don't want to. And I can't force it out. I'm not a faker. Including in the marriage bed. There. I said it.
I'm going to go eat now. Leftover dinner from last night. WHICH WAS AMAZING. The next person to come over for dinner is getting it. And they better pretend they like it.
Also, there's no dinner tonight. It's too warm out.
So today's daily dose of article reading is going to be on the Epstein Barr Virus and how that affects our bodies. I would love to know, did the chicken or the egg come first? In layman's terms - really, how did I get here? Because my whole previous life was a big shooting arrow straight to Hypo/hashi Land. What if I didn't eat gluten? Would that have made a difference? Or what if I didn't get mono ... ..would that have been the golden get out of Hellish Land for free ticket?
I think it was just meant to be. I think it was ordained and orchestrated, and the question remains - what am I going to do with it? It's almost as if I'm a real living Job. Just minus all the death and destruction and open skin wounds and ashes and sackcloth.
My next article is about bath time and how important baths are for cleaning and clearing out the toxins in our bodies. Actually that article doesn't say too much, just how to do it - but this one does. (If you scroll down) Ha! It's kinda like an oxymoron. Bath time and cleaning. Everybody knows that bath time is sit-in-your-own-filth time.
That's all I'm going to say today. I want to say more on the topics of beauty and marriage, but I don't want to. And I can't force it out. I'm not a faker. Including in the marriage bed. There. I said it.
I'm going to go eat now. Leftover dinner from last night. WHICH WAS AMAZING. The next person to come over for dinner is getting it. And they better pretend they like it.
Also, there's no dinner tonight. It's too warm out.
Monday, September 12, 2016
Day 13
Day 56 of eating straight eggs for breakfast. Literally, 56 straight days of eating eggs. And only eggs. No toast. No bacon. Sometimes an avocado. One day I made coconut flour pancakes and pretended they were amazing. And one day I made chia coconut milk pudding, and decided that eggs were actually a gift from Jesus himself. "Oh but Foxy, chia pudding is amazing! So much health in one little cup." Yeah, well. did your pudding have delicious things? Like berries and chocolate wisps? And some honey or maple syrup? And some fairy wing sparkles and unicorn dandruff? Well, mine had some unsweetened coconut milk, chia seeds and a few twigs and 14 pebbles. I gagged most of it down, focusing on the health benefits. But it literally tasted like cow snot. So it's eggs over here. Tomorrow it will be day 57. Thank you Jesus for chickens.
I continue to poop. I continue to assume/makeup/wish really hard, that the white things I see embedded in the poos are the cursed wildebeest worms.
Yesterday my mood was significantly low and testy. I also didn't poop. There is a large and significant probability that holding onto all those toxins for an extra day did NOT help. I wish I had realized this before I went to bed. Next time, enema for sure. Guys, for real. Toxins don't just affect physically, but also emotionally. I also was dealing with a lot of anxiety. Because basically I'm going to die any second. The anxiety could be coming from thyroid, candida, wormlies, adrenal, just pick one.
Talking about adrenals. Do you guys even know you have something called your adrenals? They sit on top of your kidneys. They're a pretty big deal slash, important. I'm going to add this article. Because I think Dr. Axe makes it's pretty simple to understand. And then this article mainly because I liked the picture.
My poor poor adrenals. I think they're about as dead as doornail. I even read that it's really important to not watch tv shows that are exciting. That's like everything I watch. So I'm not watching anymore. I guess it's going to be me and Doc Martin for awhile. That and medicinal, unsweetened tea. And a granny bedtime of 9:00. And a silky soft pastel pink nightgown that goes down to the floor. With puffed sleeves and 17 pearl buttons that go up the front, clear to my adams apple.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Guys, my beautiful Queenie got married this weekend. Big D and I went sans babies. First of all, it was 401 degrees. And I was pleasered than a punch bowl that I wore a shorter dress. But it did make it awkward when beads of sweat starting running down my legs. That happened. Also, with my ridiculously ridiculous diet, I had to leave the reception to go eat a boring piece of meat at the local pub on the corner. . . ... .... . . So much fanciness I had to pass up. "Ma'am, would like a whole bunch of fancy drenched in something you can't eat, topped with the devil himself?" Oh the Self. Re. Straint. I had to maintain.
Also, one of the best parts happened all too quickly. Big D and I were trying to dance. I say "trying" because we're old. And this new music they have out there is stuff that makes dancing hard. For old people. But let me tell you, there were some not old people who were dancing just fine. Anyway, so we're out there. Clapping off beat. Clucking our tongues. Trying not to step on the 47th wine glass that got dropped. Attempting to shake our skeletal money makers. . . . .. And this magical thing happened. This drunked girl grabbed Big D and threw him into this mini dance circle. 2 guys and 1 girl and Big D crammed into the middle. There was so much grabbing and twisting and humping and grinding and touching. I thought it was the most spectacular event. And over all too soon. And Big D almost started crying.
I need to wrap this up because I'm starving.
Dinnner
A plain burger on a bed of greens topped with sauteed onions
Asparagus
Boiled potatoes and carrots drowned in butter - not for me, of course.
And on an ending note, a question for all of you from Ed. Who is 5.
"What's worse than fake rocks at San Diego?" His answer is bad angels.
The end.
I continue to poop. I continue to assume/makeup/wish really hard, that the white things I see embedded in the poos are the cursed wildebeest worms.
Yesterday my mood was significantly low and testy. I also didn't poop. There is a large and significant probability that holding onto all those toxins for an extra day did NOT help. I wish I had realized this before I went to bed. Next time, enema for sure. Guys, for real. Toxins don't just affect physically, but also emotionally. I also was dealing with a lot of anxiety. Because basically I'm going to die any second. The anxiety could be coming from thyroid, candida, wormlies, adrenal, just pick one.
Talking about adrenals. Do you guys even know you have something called your adrenals? They sit on top of your kidneys. They're a pretty big deal slash, important. I'm going to add this article. Because I think Dr. Axe makes it's pretty simple to understand. And then this article mainly because I liked the picture.
My poor poor adrenals. I think they're about as dead as doornail. I even read that it's really important to not watch tv shows that are exciting. That's like everything I watch. So I'm not watching anymore. I guess it's going to be me and Doc Martin for awhile. That and medicinal, unsweetened tea. And a granny bedtime of 9:00. And a silky soft pastel pink nightgown that goes down to the floor. With puffed sleeves and 17 pearl buttons that go up the front, clear to my adams apple.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Guys, my beautiful Queenie got married this weekend. Big D and I went sans babies. First of all, it was 401 degrees. And I was pleasered than a punch bowl that I wore a shorter dress. But it did make it awkward when beads of sweat starting running down my legs. That happened. Also, with my ridiculously ridiculous diet, I had to leave the reception to go eat a boring piece of meat at the local pub on the corner. . . ... .... . . So much fanciness I had to pass up. "Ma'am, would like a whole bunch of fancy drenched in something you can't eat, topped with the devil himself?" Oh the Self. Re. Straint. I had to maintain.
Also, one of the best parts happened all too quickly. Big D and I were trying to dance. I say "trying" because we're old. And this new music they have out there is stuff that makes dancing hard. For old people. But let me tell you, there were some not old people who were dancing just fine. Anyway, so we're out there. Clapping off beat. Clucking our tongues. Trying not to step on the 47th wine glass that got dropped. Attempting to shake our skeletal money makers. . . . .. And this magical thing happened. This drunked girl grabbed Big D and threw him into this mini dance circle. 2 guys and 1 girl and Big D crammed into the middle. There was so much grabbing and twisting and humping and grinding and touching. I thought it was the most spectacular event. And over all too soon. And Big D almost started crying.
I need to wrap this up because I'm starving.
Dinnner
A plain burger on a bed of greens topped with sauteed onions
Asparagus
Boiled potatoes and carrots drowned in butter - not for me, of course.
And on an ending note, a question for all of you from Ed. Who is 5.
"What's worse than fake rocks at San Diego?" His answer is bad angels.
The end.
Thursday, September 8, 2016
Day 9
Something really great happened. Great = Gross. I poo'd. And when I whipped around to look, there was something glorious to behold. Two drinking-straw, in size, 1/4 of an inch in length THINGS were hanging out. OH. DELIGHTFUL. The problem being: we don't flush after we pee. We let our pee marinate and then go into the fermentation stage where it takes on a petrifying odor and thick sludgy color. So I can't explain my worms any more. I don't know what color they were. Or if they represented a tapeworm or a hookworm. Who wants to buy me a poop strainer so I can really really know? And who wants to write me a worm chant? Because every worm pooper needs a chant.
Confusing moment: Yesterday a truck drove by me with some sticker decal on his back windows. In the center of the window was a white, cut-out of Jesus's head at the time of his crucifixion. Thorns and tears, obviously. To the right and left of Jesus were stripper silhouettes. So . . . . we like Jesus AND strippers? We are showing Jesus's disapproval and sadness towards the art of stripping? (Notice I said "art of stripping" and NOT "strippers".) Or . . . .......... so many questions. Were they bought at the same time? What was the thought process? "I got Jesus and my girls. Gotta have both. At all times." I just. Cant.
The reality of my inabilities: I am petrified of spiders. That last sentence is an understatement. Odd bodily functions happen when spiders are seen and involved. And yesterday was a 3 for 1 day. And all of them I had to face alone.
The first one I call a ghost spider. They generally move slow and hide where the ceiling and the wall meet, but not corners. And they're very light in color. Not intimidating at all to the normal. But the worst to me. He was eye level in the shoe closet door jam. I decided a flip flop would be a logical killing device. I crammed that flip flop with much force into the corner and missed completely. I moved the flip flop away to attack a 2nd time, but ghost spider got some of his annoying sticky web on the flip flop, so when I pulled away to cram again, that spider came off the wall and was now attached to the flip flop. Of course screaming and dancing pursued and persisted. The spider is still missing. Which makes me very uncomfortable.
Number two was a large daddy extra-long legs. In the tub. Their favorite place. I grabbed the largest bottle we had on the tub ledge, and let. it. drop. With as much force as an almost empty bottle can muster. Missed him. DL starts running. I slam the bottle down harder and get one of his legs. He crumples in a heap, unmoving. And I think I've done it. I get an extra large wad of toilet paper, because far be it for a leg to soak thru and touch my delicate skin - and as I touch his leg, he jumps up so perfect and makes a limpy dash for it. Where ever it is. And then I begin the smash war. It was terrifying, but I persisted and won.
The last was the worst. The cursed bedroom spider. Black. 1000 legs. On the ceiling. And Big D out of town. Those are ones where you say a big prayer. "Jesus and the whole heavenly host, do something. Amen." I watched it for along time. It didn't move. I turned the light off - it moved. Clearly the answer was, light on. No sleep. I looked down for 1/2 a millisecond and WW gasps. (Why yes, he's in bed with me. Because ............his name is WW.) That dang spider was gone. WW doesn't talk so he couldn't tell me. But I did know that my nightmare just got a whole lot more exciting and exciting. I still have a dump-truck load of clothes on the floor, which everybody knows is the worst when it comes to a missing spider. Literally I would have to smash all my clothes with a baseball bat before moving them to the washing machine. AND I wouldn't be able to touch them with my bare hands. The use of a pole would have to be involved.
Guys, can I tell you that Jesus hears us and miracles still are happening? That gory creature dropped to the ground, missing all of my clothes by 2 inches, and literally just sat there. Stone still. I grabbed a shoe and threw it with all my might, and smathered him all of my floor into dead tiny pieces. The shoe will stay there until Big D can mop the floor, because a smeared tissue pick-up will never do.
That's my life. That's my story.
How am I overall feeling? Tired. Mostly tired. That's been a common theme for all of this sickness. But it does move around to fatigue, exhaustion and just simple tired. I'll take tired any day.
Dinner
Steak with avocado chimichurri
Leftover riced cauliflower
Broccoli
Grilled asparagus
Confusing moment: Yesterday a truck drove by me with some sticker decal on his back windows. In the center of the window was a white, cut-out of Jesus's head at the time of his crucifixion. Thorns and tears, obviously. To the right and left of Jesus were stripper silhouettes. So . . . . we like Jesus AND strippers? We are showing Jesus's disapproval and sadness towards the art of stripping? (Notice I said "art of stripping" and NOT "strippers".) Or . . . .......... so many questions. Were they bought at the same time? What was the thought process? "I got Jesus and my girls. Gotta have both. At all times." I just. Cant.
The reality of my inabilities: I am petrified of spiders. That last sentence is an understatement. Odd bodily functions happen when spiders are seen and involved. And yesterday was a 3 for 1 day. And all of them I had to face alone.
The first one I call a ghost spider. They generally move slow and hide where the ceiling and the wall meet, but not corners. And they're very light in color. Not intimidating at all to the normal. But the worst to me. He was eye level in the shoe closet door jam. I decided a flip flop would be a logical killing device. I crammed that flip flop with much force into the corner and missed completely. I moved the flip flop away to attack a 2nd time, but ghost spider got some of his annoying sticky web on the flip flop, so when I pulled away to cram again, that spider came off the wall and was now attached to the flip flop. Of course screaming and dancing pursued and persisted. The spider is still missing. Which makes me very uncomfortable.
Number two was a large daddy extra-long legs. In the tub. Their favorite place. I grabbed the largest bottle we had on the tub ledge, and let. it. drop. With as much force as an almost empty bottle can muster. Missed him. DL starts running. I slam the bottle down harder and get one of his legs. He crumples in a heap, unmoving. And I think I've done it. I get an extra large wad of toilet paper, because far be it for a leg to soak thru and touch my delicate skin - and as I touch his leg, he jumps up so perfect and makes a limpy dash for it. Where ever it is. And then I begin the smash war. It was terrifying, but I persisted and won.
The last was the worst. The cursed bedroom spider. Black. 1000 legs. On the ceiling. And Big D out of town. Those are ones where you say a big prayer. "Jesus and the whole heavenly host, do something. Amen." I watched it for along time. It didn't move. I turned the light off - it moved. Clearly the answer was, light on. No sleep. I looked down for 1/2 a millisecond and WW gasps. (Why yes, he's in bed with me. Because ............his name is WW.) That dang spider was gone. WW doesn't talk so he couldn't tell me. But I did know that my nightmare just got a whole lot more exciting and exciting. I still have a dump-truck load of clothes on the floor, which everybody knows is the worst when it comes to a missing spider. Literally I would have to smash all my clothes with a baseball bat before moving them to the washing machine. AND I wouldn't be able to touch them with my bare hands. The use of a pole would have to be involved.
Guys, can I tell you that Jesus hears us and miracles still are happening? That gory creature dropped to the ground, missing all of my clothes by 2 inches, and literally just sat there. Stone still. I grabbed a shoe and threw it with all my might, and smathered him all of my floor into dead tiny pieces. The shoe will stay there until Big D can mop the floor, because a smeared tissue pick-up will never do.
That's my life. That's my story.
How am I overall feeling? Tired. Mostly tired. That's been a common theme for all of this sickness. But it does move around to fatigue, exhaustion and just simple tired. I'll take tired any day.
Dinner
Steak with avocado chimichurri
Leftover riced cauliflower
Broccoli
Grilled asparagus
Wednesday, September 7, 2016
Day 8
I can feel my brain withering of words. It's over here like, "Foxy, you done good thinking of things to say, last week. But that tired us out so we're going to leave you high and dry okbyebye."
I said I was going to write during this cleanse and by golly I'm going to do it. Even if I have to recite poetry.
So, yesterday was my 50th day of being on the candida cleanse. And somehow it slithered by without fanfare, or toots from a horn, or even a clap parade. I literally feel jipped and now I have to wait another whole 50 days till I can properly celebrate with ... . ..... ..um ..... .......... . . . cooked cauliflower .... . . . . and water .............. . . .and maybe some chicken. I'll add some extra salt just to give it a good party flavor feel.
Extra thought for the day: you know when you get a small hunk of food that just sits in your throat cavities, and after a bit you notice them so you decide to hack them back up to re-chew and re-swallow? It doesn't happen to you? Apparently I'm supernaturally blessed in all forms. (minus the boob form) Anyway - so what if it's a worm that somehow is exiting through the mouth cavity, and I think it's food so I chew it up and then swallow. ................. I think that's more terrifying that pooping a head with fangs.
I received some great news today. I went to a doctor and didn't walk away with another disease. Yippee for me. No, really. I'm celebrating profusely in my heart. There are literal balloons and confetti.
I guess I'll back up a little bit. When I first got really sick, one of the symptoms I had was tingling in my face, hand-arms, and feet-legs. My pcp insisted that I go to an ophthalmologist to see if MS (multiple sclerosis) was a factor. I didn't go and didn't go, because nobody likes to hear about their body sucking and death looming. But that last time I saw the old pcp, she spanked me twice for not listening and then twisted my arm until I agreed to make an appointment. So, that's what that was all about. Also, the tingling has stopped. B-12 deficiency? Thyroid? Either or, or either - my body is getting what it needs and appears to be happy and tingleless. At least for right now. Praise Jesus.
I have not had to administer an enema in the past few days as my bowels are performing nicely. I do fear at some point an enema will be administered and I will not be able to get off the floor (yes, I'm lying on my right side on the bathroom floor - except our bathroom is very small, so head in the bathroom legs in the bedroom) quick enough, and the holy heavenly loads of liquid that have just been crammed up will have the unsightly urge to exit ceremoniously with great fanfare, clear across my bedroom, hitting everything in it's way including, but not limited to: my statue lady, the dump-truck load of dirty clothes, curtains, dresser, and the musical instruments - because every bedroom deserves a band.
Side note of our marital bliss report: Big D thought it was funny to come home from his precious swim this morning and greet me with a kiss, all while smirking. First of all, your smirk gave you away. Maybe I'm not sure what was given away, but I knew it wasn't a kiss from the heart. Number two, kissing me while completely and utterly despising me is also a dead give away of something not right and holy. It comes down to the truth of him just wanting to see how I'll respond. Kids, this is what you call playing with fire. And apparently Big D is a pyromaniac.
Py . ro . ma . ni . ac - a person suffering from pyromania.
Pyromania clearly is defined by Wikipedia as: an impulse control disorder in which individuals repeatedly fail to resist impulses to deliberately start fires in order to relieve tension or for instant gratification.
And THAT completely and wholly describes Big D.
Dinner
Garlic Thyme Chicken
Riced cauliflower
Green beans
Ps - does anybody want to tell me about how glorious their cheese was today? I need real, cheesy details. I am missing cheese so much and I need to live vicariously through others besides Big D who nibbles cheese like a rat and makes me nauseous.
Takeaways
1) Can I challenge you to read a chapter of Proverbs every day? There are 31 chapters, so basically it's perfect. Today I read about the man void of knowledge who ran straight into the arms of the harlot who's husband was away for awhile. She promised sweet love all. night. long. At first I was thinking "this is weird" and "this is not applicable to me at all". But what if it were switched in words/verbiage to Foxy, the woman who's brain is full of fluff who ran straight into the arms of (something unhealthy and life-squashing ie:) cheese, bad attitudes, . . . . ......(that's all i can think of) So, it's completely applicable. Can I challenge you to some wisdom this month?
I said I was going to write during this cleanse and by golly I'm going to do it. Even if I have to recite poetry.
So, yesterday was my 50th day of being on the candida cleanse. And somehow it slithered by without fanfare, or toots from a horn, or even a clap parade. I literally feel jipped and now I have to wait another whole 50 days till I can properly celebrate with ... . ..... ..um ..... .......... . . . cooked cauliflower .... . . . . and water .............. . . .and maybe some chicken. I'll add some extra salt just to give it a good party flavor feel.
Extra thought for the day: you know when you get a small hunk of food that just sits in your throat cavities, and after a bit you notice them so you decide to hack them back up to re-chew and re-swallow? It doesn't happen to you? Apparently I'm supernaturally blessed in all forms. (minus the boob form) Anyway - so what if it's a worm that somehow is exiting through the mouth cavity, and I think it's food so I chew it up and then swallow. ................. I think that's more terrifying that pooping a head with fangs.
I received some great news today. I went to a doctor and didn't walk away with another disease. Yippee for me. No, really. I'm celebrating profusely in my heart. There are literal balloons and confetti.
I guess I'll back up a little bit. When I first got really sick, one of the symptoms I had was tingling in my face, hand-arms, and feet-legs. My pcp insisted that I go to an ophthalmologist to see if MS (multiple sclerosis) was a factor. I didn't go and didn't go, because nobody likes to hear about their body sucking and death looming. But that last time I saw the old pcp, she spanked me twice for not listening and then twisted my arm until I agreed to make an appointment. So, that's what that was all about. Also, the tingling has stopped. B-12 deficiency? Thyroid? Either or, or either - my body is getting what it needs and appears to be happy and tingleless. At least for right now. Praise Jesus.
I have not had to administer an enema in the past few days as my bowels are performing nicely. I do fear at some point an enema will be administered and I will not be able to get off the floor (yes, I'm lying on my right side on the bathroom floor - except our bathroom is very small, so head in the bathroom legs in the bedroom) quick enough, and the holy heavenly loads of liquid that have just been crammed up will have the unsightly urge to exit ceremoniously with great fanfare, clear across my bedroom, hitting everything in it's way including, but not limited to: my statue lady, the dump-truck load of dirty clothes, curtains, dresser, and the musical instruments - because every bedroom deserves a band.
Side note of our marital bliss report: Big D thought it was funny to come home from his precious swim this morning and greet me with a kiss, all while smirking. First of all, your smirk gave you away. Maybe I'm not sure what was given away, but I knew it wasn't a kiss from the heart. Number two, kissing me while completely and utterly despising me is also a dead give away of something not right and holy. It comes down to the truth of him just wanting to see how I'll respond. Kids, this is what you call playing with fire. And apparently Big D is a pyromaniac.
Py . ro . ma . ni . ac - a person suffering from pyromania.
Pyromania clearly is defined by Wikipedia as: an impulse control disorder in which individuals repeatedly fail to resist impulses to deliberately start fires in order to relieve tension or for instant gratification.
And THAT completely and wholly describes Big D.
Dinner
Garlic Thyme Chicken
Riced cauliflower
Green beans
Ps - does anybody want to tell me about how glorious their cheese was today? I need real, cheesy details. I am missing cheese so much and I need to live vicariously through others besides Big D who nibbles cheese like a rat and makes me nauseous.
Takeaways
1) Can I challenge you to read a chapter of Proverbs every day? There are 31 chapters, so basically it's perfect. Today I read about the man void of knowledge who ran straight into the arms of the harlot who's husband was away for awhile. She promised sweet love all. night. long. At first I was thinking "this is weird" and "this is not applicable to me at all". But what if it were switched in words/verbiage to Foxy, the woman who's brain is full of fluff who ran straight into the arms of (something unhealthy and life-squashing ie:) cheese, bad attitudes, . . . . ......(that's all i can think of) So, it's completely applicable. Can I challenge you to some wisdom this month?
Tuesday, September 6, 2016
Day 5, 6, and 7
Checking in to say:
1) Literally, nothing of worth.
2) Something came out of my ladybits. (So, I guess we're best friends now since you read that and are now probably feeling weird that you know that much about me. But it's part of the cleanse. Worms come out of any orifice you have. And sometimes even your skin. So there, best friends.)
3) I see white stuff in my poop. It has to be worms. These aren't little flecks. These are glorious, white shining hunks peaking out of turd formations. I'm sure it's a head suffocated by fecal matter.
4) I completely and wholeheartedly see why some people have gloves, chopsticks, and strainers in their bathroom. You want to see the good work of your death pills. I'm not scared anymore. It's more of a victorious feeling. Probably how soldiers feel after an incredible massacre. Like really, I want to sing loud and boisterously while marching.
5) I pooped twice in one day over the weekend, and that made me feel like I just graduated from preschool and got the kindygarten ticket.
Ok, I'm going to leave you with my weekend tirade topic. NOBODY is caring what they put into their bodies. Do we even have a little bitty bit inclining or concern about what we are slowly doing over time? No. Obviously. I am discovering that EVERYTHING is related to the gut aka what we eat. EVERYTHING. Minus: bloody noses from brick throwing and broken legs from falling out of skyscrapers. The rest is completely linked to the gut. Here's a little controversial tear-inducing read.
Takeaways
1) Start learning about what you're putting into your bodies. What are those things that are on the ingredient list? What exactly is GMO and how does it affect us? (If it's not organic, it most likely is gmo, ps.) Did you know that soy is in almost everything? And do you know how and where citric acid comes from? (that's in everything too.)
2) They say, (the worm people) that by day 7 most of your parasites are dead. Now I just need to get them out. But realistically, I have such a raging case of worms, I'm going to have to go on the hefty defty duty pill for the next 7 years. (7 is the number of completion)
1) Literally, nothing of worth.
2) Something came out of my ladybits. (So, I guess we're best friends now since you read that and are now probably feeling weird that you know that much about me. But it's part of the cleanse. Worms come out of any orifice you have. And sometimes even your skin. So there, best friends.)
3) I see white stuff in my poop. It has to be worms. These aren't little flecks. These are glorious, white shining hunks peaking out of turd formations. I'm sure it's a head suffocated by fecal matter.
4) I completely and wholeheartedly see why some people have gloves, chopsticks, and strainers in their bathroom. You want to see the good work of your death pills. I'm not scared anymore. It's more of a victorious feeling. Probably how soldiers feel after an incredible massacre. Like really, I want to sing loud and boisterously while marching.
5) I pooped twice in one day over the weekend, and that made me feel like I just graduated from preschool and got the kindygarten ticket.
Ok, I'm going to leave you with my weekend tirade topic. NOBODY is caring what they put into their bodies. Do we even have a little bitty bit inclining or concern about what we are slowly doing over time? No. Obviously. I am discovering that EVERYTHING is related to the gut aka what we eat. EVERYTHING. Minus: bloody noses from brick throwing and broken legs from falling out of skyscrapers. The rest is completely linked to the gut. Here's a little controversial tear-inducing read.
Takeaways
1) Start learning about what you're putting into your bodies. What are those things that are on the ingredient list? What exactly is GMO and how does it affect us? (If it's not organic, it most likely is gmo, ps.) Did you know that soy is in almost everything? And do you know how and where citric acid comes from? (that's in everything too.)
2) They say, (the worm people) that by day 7 most of your parasites are dead. Now I just need to get them out. But realistically, I have such a raging case of worms, I'm going to have to go on the hefty defty duty pill for the next 7 years. (7 is the number of completion)
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