No-poo or as I prefer to call it "Chem-free hair"

This is day 1 of my new chemical free natural hair care journey. Most call it "No-poo" but poo sounds too much like poop to me and poop related to my hair is just ick.

Okay to start from the beginning. I liked this idea for 2 reasons. First I have always been chemical sensitive but as my fibro has progressed it has become worse. My skin hurts and burns from deodorant. My body itches from regular soap. And my scalp is an itchy mess. My second reason is the practical side from a prepper angle. If SHTF I hope to still have fabulous hair.

This pick is 2 days in. On day 1 I did a clarifying shampoo for my final chemical wash. It is supposed to shorten the transition time. I finished it off with my new form of conditioner. A spray bottle filled with water, a 1/4 cup apple cider vinegar, and 10 drops of peppermint oil.

The second day the real fun began. I used a pointed tip bottle with a cup of water and 1 1/2 teasp of baking soda to scrub my hair. Just squirted the mixture against my scalp and scrubbed. Rinsed. Then sprayed my hair and let sit a bit and rinsed.

My mixtures might change as I try to find the right balance but thems the basics. I plan to blog every week at least to keep track of the progress. Hopefully it makes my scalp better. Others have reported that their hair has thickened, strengthened and the color became more rich. I'm excited to see what happens.

Most useful presents EVER!

The last few gift giving moments have netted me some awesomeness in the useful and fun department. As the time as passed I've been able to enjoy them more and more.

1 gift was my shotgun. Mossburg 500 in 20ga. I adore it and last time we ventured out for trigger therapy we took clays. I had been too nervouse to try then before but my guy is always my biggest cheerleader and convinced me. Oh my awesome.  So dang fun. And I hit more than I missed. My aim without a scope has massively improved since I discovered the whole cross eye dominant thing.

My other fave gift is my Diamond bow. So stoked. It's a youth/womens so the poundage starts smaller which it great for this girl to build muscles up. It's super light weight, pink camo, dual cams. We are going on the bow hunt this year and I can't wait.

Plus both are dang useful in a SHTF situation. Woot.

Why talk about being sick?

I take part in a great weekly chat on Twitter (@writerkimwalsh) every week called #SpoonieChat. This week a question was asked by a participant. "Do you write about your illness anywhere else and if so why?" Of course I answered in that little allotted window that I do, to hopefully share my blessings and raise awareness. I wanted to expand here though.

I am sure to some on my fb I probably sound whiny or like a complainer. I honestly am one of the most positive people ever. I have to be. After my diagnosis I joined groups, followed pages, collected links. One thing was clear. Almost every person facing invisible debilitating illness feels alone, unheard, and unable to share their thoughts and feelings.

For years I'd been sick. Over a decade before diagnosis. And I rarely shared how I felt. We had family live with us who were surprised by how awful I tended to feel. I learned to hide it from a dad who brushed me off and a brother who laughed at me. To them I was an oversensitive manipulative drama queen.

Once I saw how similar others felt I knew I had to help that. I am lucky in that the man I married, my children, my inlaws, and my Mom are very loving, understanding, and compassionate. Once I was diagnosed they researched and rallied behind me. So I vowed to be brutally honest about how I felt. To show that 1: those feelings are normal, pain is shared 2: no one is alone 3: you can still be happy despite an illness and 4: to help others see the life we lead is still full, still.

This is a battle we are not alone in. And the more we share with the world the more we realize that as well as teach others understanding.

I'm Christian unless you're an addict, or an Imigrant, or.....

So the title was inspired by a post by Dan Pierce called "I'm Christian unless you're gay." I loved it for it's truth.

I saw a similar issue on Sunday. A couple things happened of note. Philip Seymour Hoffman died of an overdose and the Superbowl was on in all its billion dollar glory.

It was also the anniversary of Chris Kyle's death.

Many on my feed felt that the later should have been all over the news. And I agree. Chris Kyle was a great guy. He was a returned soldier, a father, a husband. He was also more than that. He was a man determined to help others. A man with demons who refused to give in. And that deserves praise and remembrance.

Some took it farther. They bashed a dead actor for being an addict. They bashed the addiction as weakness, as cowardly. Memes were created that demeaned and denigrated.

Then the Superbowl aired. The usual million dollar commercials played. And Coke became the second major target of the day along with the immigrants singing a beautiful American song in their native languages.

I have never seen so much hate spewed in a single day on facebook and twitter. The crule and vile words honestly made me cry. Not for the targets but for us. Because the group spewing the most hate shocked me. We are the primarily Christian center. We are supposed to be the tolerant, the forgiving, the compassionate. We are the ones who carefully research our rebuttles to the anti rights groups. We are the ones horrified when a soldier is treated badly or a family with an autistic child is discriminated against.

Yet on Sunday I watched as addicts were shamed for being weak and stupid. I watched as immigrants trying to show pride were shown racism more expected 50 years ago.

An addict does not choose to be so. No one looks at a pill or syringe and says "That's what I want to do when I grow up." Addiction is a brutal indiscriminate attacker. It goes after anyone, at any time, in any circumstance. And once it has you it never lets you go. A smell, a sound, a taste, a place, a person, a date can trigger you. And then you crave.  If you have already hit your bottom and are fighting to be clean you hit that craving and move on, focusing on whatever helps so you don't drink or use or eat. If you are back in the blur though and you hit a trigger all you do is seek the empty places using brings. The places where you don't crave because you're there, where you don't feel because you're empty.

I know if I were at my bottom still trapped in the blur Sunday would have destroyed my hope. How is an addict to feel safe asking for help if we tell them they are just weak and stupid and deserve death? And what if the addict needing that help is your child, your sibling, your spouse, your parent ? What about the soldier who fought beside you?

Then we heaped on more hate. Telling those who did it right, who worked hard to be here, who are as American as we are, that their pride is worthless because they don't have as many generations born in this melting pot as we do. That sharing their pride in their birth language was dispicable. Yes I agree everyone should learn English. However we should allow an expression of pride in America be however it is chosen. If someone wants to do it in pig-latin and standing on their heads I say we celebrate. Celebrate that they came here honestly to seek an honest often safer and better life and genuinely are proud to be American.

Stop the hate. Stop the degradation. How do we expect to teach the intolerant anything better if we are intolerant? How are we to show our children Christ like values if we ourselves are not Christ like?

I for one refuse to be the Christian living contrary to Christ. I refuse to judge anyone based on their choices if they are living a life trying to be the best they can be. I also refuse to turn my back on those who might need help. To me that is the most exceptional way to honor my faith, my family, and our point of existence.

I'm not perfect.

I am far from it. I hate the phone so rarely call people. I don't leave my house often. I procrastinate.  I avoid confrontation by avoiding people who I feel strife with. I am over sensitive.  I don't seperate my laundry. I hate eating new things. I am overly critical of myself. I am stubborn. I probably am too honest with my girls.

I know these things. I try to work on them.

My view of family has always been that we love, accept, forgive. That we try to keep mean words out of it and if we slip we apologize. For the most part my life is full of this. Full of love and laughter. Full of compassion and understanding,  generosity and pride. I have family that love me, even when I'm the oddball. I'm considered the weapons crazy paranoid hermit. And I'm loved anyway. I have great girlfriends. We can have different views on big issues and still love.

If I make a mistake with them I try to fix it and vice versa.  If I feel like things are off it haunts me. But I tend to not say anything out of worry.

To me family tries. It is about making mistakes and then doing better.  Maybe I have it wrong though.

Feminism is about equality, right?

Recently I read this blog titled "I look down on young women with husband's and kids, and I'm not sorry."  I was honestly stunned. I knew that there were people who felt like that. Choosing motherhood is very often misunderstood these days.

BUT I thought the point of feminism was that women had a choice. We fought for the right to be seen as equally relevant,  equally respectable, equally capable of choosing our paths for ourselves. We wanted to be able to be what ever we dreamed of.

I dreamed of being a mother. From the first moment I could dream I wanted this life. As a toddler my babies went everywhere I went. When my brother was born just before my 4th birthday I was in heaven. A little being for me to love and protect, teach and nurture. And until he was 18 I did so. Even after I tried. For most of his life I was the only mother he had.

When I met my guy I knew. I knew we could be a team. I knew we could make a family. Then our first was born and I had my dream. I was a wife and mother. My choice had always been made. It was made against my family's desires for me, against what society thought. I lost people due to my choice but I knew it was the right choice for me.

As I've grown and shed the disappointment of others and become more empowered in my choice I've realized that is what true feminism is. Making the choice we desire for ourselves, celebrating it, and celebrating other women happy in their choice. It can be no kids, no spouse, no career, all of it. What ever choice makes each individual happy deserves respect, love, and support. We owe that to our sisters in this journey of life.

Assumption makes an .......

We all know the saying. "Assumptions make an ass of you and me." The world is full of assumptions. We all do it. We put a label on someone and  then we make assumptions based on the label. I've had some interesting ones. Mormon means cult member, Fibromyalgia means hypochondriac,  stay at home mom means lazy or stupid. Clean eating means hippy.

Usually I brush it off and move on. I try to ignore it. I try not to do it but find myself falling into the trap too. I think it is human nature to try to figure out the people around us. We want to imagine other lives are better, or worse. That others face similar issues and thrive.

I think that is what assumption truly is. A way to imagine ourselves less alone, less insignificant.  But the truth is we all leave a beautiful mark if we choose to. It may not always equal Mother Teresa levels but our impact can be felt by those around us. Once we remember that the assumptions are no longer needed and we can try just accepting.

Epiphany Dreams.

My favorite dreams are the ones that reveal something, that help us grow and learn. I dream a lot. it is actually a bad thing health wise as I don't slide into that deeper healing sleep easily but for my imagination it is a boon. I get many book ideas from my dreams. I get to be the tough badass supermom in my dreams that my body won't allow in reality. And every so often something pops through my dreams that defines the epiphany.

I usually have many dreams a night. If its a great story idea I try to note it down. This mornings final dream was lovely and one worth sharing.

It was Christmas and so beautiful out. I was in the mountains at some type of resort type place. It seemed like hundreds of people where there. So many families. There were trees and snow and a lake that was weirdly not frozen. In my dream we were doing different family things as a larger group and as just my little family. Games, and snow fights, boat rides and sledding. It was beautiful. But I began to notice a problem. Many of the families, and I recognized a lot of friends, of tv families, of celebrities, were not happy. The kids were fighting, the parents were oblivious. As some tried to decorate for the holiday others were miserable. Then one night we were gathered together for some type of pageant or display and I had decided enough was enough. I stood in front of all those people, many who were bickering and I told them to knock it off. I told them that they had forgotten their purpose. That the purpose of life was to parent a child. That it didn't matter how that dynamic looked. It didn't matter how a family was constructed but every adult had a responsibility to be the best they could be with a thought for the next generation in mind. That our job was to teach them a legacy of strength, compassion, honesty, generosity, and survival. We need to teach them skills that matter by showing them what matters.

Then I woke to my 4 year old Monkey yelling from down stairs for some cereal and I had to chuckle. It was funny to go from such peace to such yelling BUT I realized the thoughts were true. Every adult is a parent. It may be in the role of a teacher or a counselor. An aunt or uncle or just a family friend but we all interact with children and the children in our lives look to us to teach them. Yes the main teaching needs to be from their actual parent however we all need to be striving for more for them. They truly are our future. I know the kind of future I want to see and for them to have. Do you?

Not hard to stay sober.... is it?

I was checking out at the grocery store the other day when the man behind me said something I couldn't help but overhear. It took everything I had to restrain myself actually. I was with my girls and he was with his wife and child so just felt the kiddos didn't need to hear the boiling thoughts in my head.

He was looking at the tabloid headlines and saw one I had noticed that said "Lindsey Lohan fighting to stay sober" His comment was, "I just don't get it. It can't be that hard to stay sober. Just stop drinking the alcohol or doing the drugs. Done. Sober."

Seriously? I wish it were that easy. I've been the child of an addict, the addict, and am the wife of a recovering alcoholic. I have seen every side of that issue. I know how it feels to wake up and crave, to eat a certain meal and crave, to stress and crave, to hurt and crave. I walked my path due to my pain. I hurt and no one believed me so I turned to using to cope. I lied to people. I manipulated. I did a lot I am not proud of and all before I was 17.

I wish it were easy. I wish you just made the choice and then poof....done. But people don't become addicts because it is glamorous and fun. They do it because they need the escape for some reason. They don't want to face something. The using is what is easy. It's the fight to stay sober that takes desire, a day to day effort and choice. It takes a lot of support from loved ones and community. 

Being Thankful..... Mostly.

It is November, the season of thanks. SO I have tried every day to post what I am thankful for in my life. And boy do I have so much. I truly am so very blessed. I have a husband who has always without fail been my knight. He fights for me. He keeps me safe. He knew there was more going on with my health than we thought and pushed for answers even when I had allowed past issues to make me wonder if i wasn't just crazy and lazy and broken. I see so many with this disease who are alone because the people around them abandon them and refuse to believe them. I know a few who still have loved ones close but are abused because they are faking it, or lazy, or liars, or manipulators.

I have my kids and that is incredible. Their births were miracles. They grow more beautiful every day in personality, character, and grace. They are supportive of my bad days and great fun on the good.

I have extended family who always backs me up, parents not by blood who choose to love me and be supportive of me. I have some great docs trying to get me healthy, I have a home that is a bit big for me but perfect for hosting visitors. (We have over 30 at Thanksgiving) I have food to cook. I have a vehicle that I adore that lets me go visiting if I want to. I have my imagination that has led to my writing that hopefully leads to some published books. I have a great page with awesome fans that I hope to get back to some fundraising work on.

Life is good. Honestly almost perfect. Except.... The other day my brother made a post on his fb page for the whole world to see. He posted how excited he was to come visit for a whole week at Thanksgiving. First real visit in over 2 years. I think last time he was here Lexi was turning 2. She is now almost 5. So actually almost 3 years. He then said he just wished he could be with our father and I at the same time and asked my thoughts. On his open facebook.

Talk about put on the spot. I tried to be very polite and somewhat vague as I have multiple coworkers on my page. Yet he pressed and pressed. To the point of telling me he hoped it wasn't his or dad's death that brought me around and that I wasn't being fair to him or my kids or my dad.

Now I know my Dad is upset by the fact I asked for space. Complete space. And I realized I want that space because I do not trust him. When I call is it nice accepting dad or ranting dad who belittles and demeans and expects me to ignore that? I don't trust him to handle my children the way I ask.

And my brother knows this. And I wish, just one time, he said "I don't necessarily agree with your choice but I am behind whatever you need to do 100%. I want you to feel good and feel happy in your life. I understand that stress makes you ill and know that sometimes for that moment you have to make choices that might seem harsh. I love you."

Instead I feel pressured and pushed and stressed and like I am the bad guy when it shouldn't be about good or bad and just about me needing time. I have never had a blood relative (other than my kids) say to me "I back you 100%, I accept you. I am proud of you and I think you are beautiful and perfect just the way you are." I may be an adult but there is still a part of me that craves that. I get it from my in laws, from my adoptive family. I get it from friends who have become family. Yet the 2 people in the world I need it from seem unable to give that unconditional love and acceptance.