A few weeks ago, after doing some reading, I came to the conclusion that I need to stop tight-fisting money.

Don’t get me wrong, I know it’s important to manage money, but that doesn’t mean I have to nickel and dime every penny.

I mean think about it… have you ever just grabbed something so tight that it stressed out your whole body? Rigid from head to toe? Gritting your teeth to the point you start to shake and get a headache?

What if we all stopped tight-fisting whatever our fear in life is? For me, one of those, is that I won’t have the money to cover my needs. By focusing on that, I end up wasting so much time that could be spent doing things that bring me peace, harmony, and happiness.

This is a jumbled mess of thought… but seriously, I’m so over standing in the grocery aisle trying to decide which package of chips is the most economical. I personally don’t even eat chips anymore!

WHY AM I GIVING MY TIME TO CHIPS?!!

Survival of the fittest.

For some reason, I think about this often when it comes to myself in relationship to my health.

I’m practically a cyborg.

An insulin pump that delivers life saving insulin to my body 24/7.

A continuous glucose monitor that tells me every 5 minutes what my blood glucose level is.

I even have two hearing aids that help me to not live in silence.

Sometimes I wonder how long I would truly live without some of these medical devices.

Then, what about the huge goiter that grew in my thyroid years ago that resulted in most of my thyroid being taken out and having to take oral thyroid hormones for the rest of my life?

Or, my gallbladder that was removed due to gallstones, that has resulted in bile acid diarrhea so bad, that if I don’t take a daily medication that’s mixed with water and drink it, I end up spending my whole morning running to the toilet with only a moments notice each time?

What if I didn’t have these procedures done or had access to the medication that are supposed to make my life normal?

Am I the fittest? I don’t think so.

My older boys disagree with me when I make comments about, “survival of the fittest” and how maybe I’m not really supposed to be here given the fact that I’m obviously not that fit.

Oh, it’s not a matter of wanting to end my life… it’s more a declaration of logic. Logically, am I really supposed to be here? Putting aside faith and religious beliefs… am I? Is this body that I’ve been given meant to survive this long? My logical brain says no.

The argument I always get from my boys is that, “Yes, I’m supposed to be here surviving.” Their point is basically that as humans we are brilliant problem solvers. If I wasn’t meant to survive, then humans wouldn’t have the ability to make me survive. The fact that I have devices, surgeries, medications, etc is proof that I am one of the fittest.

So, I guess maybe I need to look at it from the standpoint of being a part of the most brilliant species on the earth and that alone makes me fit to still be here? I mean, even though I’m not really fit physically?

It’s impossible to not sometimes wonder if it’s worth it to continually be “fixed”. The daily obstacles can be tiring and overwhelming at times. The desire to just want to feel good and “normal”.

More often than not, I do realize it’s worth it. I remember that it’s all part of something much bigger than me. I grab onto and focus on the part where I’ve overcome obstacles and that makes me fit to serve and support others in their trial. There’s no denying that one of my greatest joys has come from being of value to someone else because I’ve fallen down, picked myself back up, and learned how to keep moving forward.

This journey of “Survival of the Peggy” has been tough and overwhelming at times… but yeah, it’s worth it.

Twelve days! Wow I’m on fire! 😉

It’s Friday, and that means date night! I had a pretty full day and now I’m down to the last hour!

This writing challenge is a commitment I’ve made to myself. I refuse to not keep my word. I made a decision and I’m going to stick with it!

This may not seem like anything significant, but it actually is. These few words masquerading as nothing important… they are my WORD.

Sometimes I wonder what my body would be capable of if I had no diseases.

You know, like if all my body systems worked the way they are supposed to.

What would that feel like?

I imagine it would be quite euphoric.

Someday I want to know what that feels like… but I know I never will.

Most days I’m pretty good about focusing on the positive and not letting the hard stuff weigh me down.

Then there are moments where I’m having a symptom that won’t let me ignore it and I begin to ruminate. In those moments it becomes hard to not just let them go. I guess that’s maybe because in my mind I know that I shouldn’t ignore them. I must find answers.

If I’m not persistent and ask questions, who will be? I’ve learned that it’s my responsibility to take care of me. If I don’t have an answer, then it’s my job to find someone who can give me one. It’s never really good to ignore signals from your body.

What a beautiful and wondrous machine the human body is. Even if it doesn’t work exactly like it was designed to… it’s still worthy of love and awe. There are no mistakes or accidents. Each of us are what our Creator needs us to be.

I refuse to let a disease or two… or three, get me down. I will keep moving and pushing to be the very best version of me I can be.

Each and every day, it’s GAME ON! Let’s go!

I love writing. I feel I’m my truest and most honest self when I’m writing.

Maybe that’s why I feel like I’m betraying myself by pushing myself to write when I’m not actually feeling inspired.

I guess I need to continually remind myself that writers write. I need to write. Even if I pump out crap, it’s about the habit. If I’m not in the habit of making it a priority and doing it, then I will miss those moments when true passion wants to flow from my mind onto the screen.

I will keep going. I will keep writing. I’m a fighter who does what they say they are going to do… even if it’s crap.

I don’t give up.

I started reading a new book tonight. I’ve actually only gotten through the foreword, but definitely found something unexpected.

Disagreement.

The author of the foreword blatantly disagrees with a belief of the book’s author. I find this intriguing and refreshing.

I love the authenticity of what was written here. I mean, normally you would expect a foreword to be all about praise and gushing about how everyone needs to read the book.

What is it they disagree about? The cause of inspiration.

I’m looking forward to diving into this book to see what other unexpected things I will discover.

I’m sure I will feel inspired to share more down the road, so stay tuned.

It was a brilliant first day back to work!

Within minutes of the kids arriving, there was an enthusiastic, “Holy f*#% !” ringing through the air. It was a perfect execution of the sentiment.

I almost yelled out, “Amen!” & “Hallelujah!”

I did actually chuckle to myself. I felt joy in the fact that he was able to communicate his true feelings and most likely, the feelings of every child in that room.

I mean really, how do you feel when you return to work after having some time off?

Then, at the same time, I felt an instant sense of compassion for this kid… and each of his classmates. Having to return to school, where they are uncomfortable and required to push through their obstacles and fears. It’s not for the weak.

If you watch closely, you will discover that these “disabled” kids are perfect communicators. They are honest and pure in heart. They are brave.

There’s a gross misperception that individuals with “disabilities” must be weak and incapable. Reality is, they are some of the strongest individuals within our world. The “normal” people can learn so much from them if they are willing to take their eyes off themselves and actually see the disabled for the truly remarkable and strong people they are.

We can all be better off for taking note of the importance of expressing ourselves honestly in our own way. We are designed to be social beings that use their voice to connect to one another.

Stop keeping all the, “Holy f*#%’s” locked inside.

Tomorrow I go back to work after having two weeks off for spring break. Having a break and a change of pace is good, but I’m anxious to get back to my kids.

I’m working as a paraprofessional at a high school in the SpEd department. Sometimes, I feel like I have to pinch myself that I’m actually working there and getting to do what I do.

Some people, probably a lot of people, would say I’m crazy to feel that way about my job. I can’t help it. It’s deeply fulfilling for me. It was unexpected and it’s completely wonderful.

I know that there was divine intervention in being guided to this job. You can call it God, or the stars aligning, or whatever, but the fact is, I know I was sent there.

I had just been offered a similar position at my own boys’ school. It was a job I had been working towards getting because it just made sense to be at the school where my boys were. That same day I got a call asking me come in for an interview at this high school. There was something in the warmth of the voice on the phone. It felt welcoming. I figured there was no harm in going and checking out my options and seeing what would happen.

Within a few moments of walking into my interview, the assistant principal asked me if that was an insulin pump in my pocket. It turns out, she was also a type 1 diabetic. Just so you know, that’s a pretty rare occurrence. I haven’t met many type 1’s face to face in my day to day life. We hit it off instantly and she offered me the position on the spot.

After a day or so of pondering, I determined that I would take this job instead of the one at my boys’ school. It didn’t make sense on paper. It would definitely be the bigger challenge in working out my schedule and I didn’t know anyone at this school. I’d also be working with much older kids when I had originally planned to work with elementary age kids. Of the two choices, this one was the one that would stretch and challenge me more, but there was no denying it felt like the right choice.

On my first day of work, I met a boy who I would quickly feel a special connection to and protection over. It didn’t take long to realize he was the reason I had been sent there. We shared something that no one else working in the department could understand to the same level. Among a variety of other disabilities, he was also a type 1 diabetic just like me.

After almost six months at my job, I’ve been able to establish myself as his primary caregiver at school. It has not been easy and I’ve had to use my voice to speak out many times to finally reach this point. Every obstacle has been worth it to know that what I do on a daily basis makes an impact, that only I can make, by using my own life and experiences to give him the care and support he deserves.

I can hardly wait to see him tomorrow! It will be like seeing one of my own sons. He will smile when he sees me and so will I when I see him. It will be a happy day.

Sometimes crappy stuff happens.

Like when you spend time writing and then you accidentally somehow delete everything you just wrote.

Some people might get really upset about that. Not me. I’m going to focus on the good.

I basically ate a whole smoked pork butt-cheek today. I just grabbed big huge chunks of it and I ate it and it was good and I didn’t have to cook it and it was glorious. There were no side dishes involved. Just unadulterated mouthwatering pork rump.

I don’t know if I can write under these conditions. Here’s the thing, I would be crazy not to take advantage of the fact that I’m #19 on the list at the lab waiting to get blood work done. I’m pretty sure this guarantees me a full 17+ hours of free time.

It’s standing room only in here. Of all the times I’ve been to the lab, and believe me it’s A LOT of times, I’ve never seen it this full. Maybe that’s because I’m usually strategic about the time I show up for lab work. Normally I hit it early and show up when they open. Not today.

Today, I could hardly find a shred of energy to get out of bed. No seriously, I’m not exaggerating. I managed to brush my teeth and hair before I walked out the door, but believe me, I’m not going to win any “Awake Person Contests” today.

There are insane people here. I’m not sure how comfortable I feel waiting in this room. There’s this dad that has 3 young boys with him. He’s got to be psychotic. Clearly he’s not in his right mind.

In general, I’m not a judgey person. I have 5 sons. I know a thing or two about bringing boys into public places. It should never be done. At least, not when I’m the adult that’s supposed to be adulting.

What is adulting anyway? I mean, what really qualifies as properly adulting? Is it just a matter of turning the ripe old age of 18? Automatically if you’re that age, and you’re breathing, you are now adulting? I say, “Nay.”

Hey, I’ve made it to #6. This writing thing is pretty awesome! It’s like transporting to a time in the future in the blink of an eye! It’s actually not as magical as it sounds. If it was, I’d be at #1 right now.

I think that’s it for this addition of Waiting Room Chronicles. I mean, if I spent the entirety of my wait time writing, that’s like cutting in line. I wouldn’t want to do something so risky when there’s an insane dad sitting next to me.