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@lisamitchellparker
My hometown, Grosse Ile, Michigan, turns 240 years old today! #happybirthday #island #islandlife #islandgirl #grosseile #michigan #puremichigan #igdaily #instadaily #instagram #picoftheday #hometown #home #1776 #instafamily #writersofig #poetsofig (at Grosse Ile, Michigan)
#sds #stopanddropselfie #instadaily #instagram #instamood #instalove #instapic #igdaily #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig (at Lake Bella Vista)
Shout out to my youngest son's photography page. Give it a follow if you're into photography. He's developing a great eye & cool techniques. More posts to come. He has tons of photos! #photography #photooftheday #photographer #photograph #photos #photoshooting #igdaily #picoftheday #share #support #art #artwork (at The Artist's Eye)
Again. (Written while listening to Duke Ellington's Creole Rhapsody, Pt. 1-- The Very Best of Duke Ellington-- this story popped out). #duke #dukeellington #jazz #passion #love #romance #dance #breakup #moments #repeat #cycle #lovers #instadaily #igdaily #instagram #instalove #instamood #instamusic #instapoetry #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai (at Mt Solitary, Blue Mountains)
Successful & Fun Graduation party for my daughter last weekend! Thanks to all who helped & all who came to Celebrate! 💜😘💜#graduation #gradparty #family #friends #summer #sun #tacos #rockford #rhsgraduation2016 #instagram #igdaily #picoftheday #familytime #familyreunion #familyfun #friendship #momlife #moments #motherhood
Jump. A previous collaboration, or push, with my bff @napkindiary who gives stellar advice & writes like the most beautiful mad genius! Go! Read his works! That last post...about flying...oh man. It sparked this repost. Go! Read him! #igdaily #instagram #instalove #jump #fly #soar #dream #pushyourself #friends #friendsforlife #love #support #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai
Word. I love this man. #respect #truestory #linmanuelmiranda #love #music #peace #hope #igdaily #instagram #orlando #instalike #instamood #instadaily #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai (at Music is Love)
Jazz Hands, Wine & Dinner with my hubby...❤️🎶😎 (at The Union Cabaret & Grille)
Selfie just because I rarely do... "The Greatest Thing You'll Ever Learn... Is Just to Love and Be Loved in Return". But remember to Love Yourself too. #selfie #self #loveyourself #love #celebrate #me #instagram #instapic #igdaily #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai (at Lake Bella Vista)
Swing. #music #life #dance #beats #swing #jazz #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai #instamoment #igdaily #instagram #instapoet #instamusic #instagroove
Stalker Love. #stalker #creepers #reality #insanity #instamood #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai #instagram #igdaily #instamoment (at Stalker, Pennsylvania)
Embrace. Written while listening to John Coltrane. #jazz #coltrane #music #dance #embrace #passion #kiss #smokey #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai #instagram #instagood #instamood #instalove (at Café Coltrane)
Day Dream. Written again while listening to my heart fav-- Duke Ellington. This time the Album is Duke Ellington's Jazz Violin Sessions. The song was Day Dream. This Story painted in my brain. #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai #igdaily #instagood #instamusic #instagram #instalove #duke #music #jazz (at Duke Ellington Circle)
Bridges. #bridges #falling #break #life #love #instagram #igdaily #instagood #instalove #instadaily #instamood #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai (at Mackinac Bridge)
Entrance. Tagged by one of my favorite writers of poetry or any words (and great music fan like myself), the masterful & sweet @g.sanchez_writes (rrrrraaaaaahhhhh---crowd noise---) for a #totalrepost (even though it is Friday). Spruced with new background. #exits #door #newbeginnings #goodbye #forever #instalove #instalike #instagram #igdaily #picoftheday #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai (at The Doorway)
Breath... #musicislove #musicislife #breathe #inspiration #music #soul #igdaily #instagood #instadaily #instalove #instagram #joy #happiness #words #poetry #writer #poet #writers #writersofinstagram #poetsofinstagram #poetrycommunity #writersofig #poetsofig #creativewriting #spilledink #instapoet #ikigai (at WMU School of Music)
Disguised Blessings
(This is an old blog recovered today, written in 2006. Since then, we have had several other disguised blessings and many new tools added to our tool box. The reality of this blog, though, stays the same.)
"It’s a balancing act to recognize the blessings, even the ones that come well disguised…“ ~Kathleen Norris- "Amazing Grace–A Vocabulary of Faith”
Reading last night after a hectic day of preparing for several upcoming events, including a Girl Scout Troop Halloween party that afternoon (just me alone with a dozen over-excited, sugar-coated–I mean that nearly literally–3rd grade girls), I came across the quote above. This hit me, even in a moment of exhaustion, as something I find true in my life. I find a kind of peace in it. That is not something I always embraced…not at all. I bucked such ideas as well as anyone else. To understand my journey, I suppose you need background… When I was 15 years old I was like any American teenager in the 80’s. I had completed drivers education. I spent Saturdays and many summer days trying to catch sight of cute boys at the mall while searching for excellent bargains on ridiculous clothing trends (neon?!). I hung out with friends and spent babysitting money on every teen-luring movie on the market. And yes, I read “Glamour” magazine, as well as “Seventeen” and various movie rags (I even had the official “Outsiders” magazine to feed my Matt Dillon infatuation). I was a regular teenager. And I was pretty happy with life so far. Then one day I woke in a CATscan machine. Seriously, my first thought was that I had been abducted by aliens and was on their ship. I do not recommend waking up in one of those. I hadn’t really even given aliens much thought before, but at that moment it was all I could comprehend. Startled, I sat straight up and whacked my head on the top of the inside of the long narrow tube I was encased in. Think of a tanning bed with a view out to a white sterile room beyond your feet and you’ll be close to what I was seeing. Soon after a technician came over to talk to me and get me to stay still. He was nice and, seemingly, not an alien. I relaxed but wondered, quite understandably, “What am I doing here? What is going on? What is this THING surrounding me making whirring sounds?” I asked all of these logical questions. The technician stated simply, “You are having some tests at the hospital. This is a CATscan. You had a seizure.” Seizure. I was definately still at this point. Silence filled my head. I noted for the first time that I had a horrible and strange headache. I could feel my brain. I wasn’t exactly scared. I was confused. It was as if I was in someone else’s life suddenly. I couldn’t remember things clearly. I tried to think of that morning. I couldn’t recall it. My brain hurt. I closed my eyes and went to sleep. Later, I woke and my very nervous mother was there trying to seem calm (it wasn’t working). She held my hand and asked me if I remembered falling down the stairs. Ok…WAIT. First I was hearing strange concepts such as “seizure” now I supposedly fell down the stairs, yet I could not recall a single thing??? How was that possible? And what did all of this mean? I couldn’t say all of that. I still hurt. I told my mom “no…tell me”. She explained I had fallen from the very top of the stairs down to the bottom that morning, and at the bottom I had a seizure. She told me that our neighbor, someone whom my mother normally was always agitated with, came over because he was a volunteer firefighter and heard the 911 call on his scanner. Suddenly, I had a whisp of a memory… I could hear his voice in my head, and feel his hand on mine. I spoke, “I remember that! I remember him talking to me in…in…IN AN AMBULANCE! It was so loud. Those sirens are TOO loud. Really Mom. They hurt. But I remember him talking to me and holding my hand. He was really nice, Mom.” This all came out in a rush. There I was in the midst of this, trying to emphasize to my mother that the neighbor was really nice and their feud should stop. Sometimes, perhaps, it’s easier to think about something else than deal with your own issues. It would take a long time for me to recognize that… After a week or so, I saw a neurologist who may have been the oldest man alive. He had a beautiful British accent and a fluffy white head of hair. Nervous in his office, I thought of cotton ball cloud art projects in kindergarten. He seemed nice. I calmed. He then asked “Now, you must give us the truth. Have you been taking drugs?” and he continued listing drugs I’d heard of but never seen and then drugs I didn’t even know existed. I was astonished, horrified, embarrassed and felt like I was on trial. I thought I had been set up and this was like some bad movie where the obviously innocent victim is put on trial just for show but the decisions have already all been made with the stroke of a pen behind the curtain. I answered in tears “No. No. No. no. … no… no… please, really, no…” He stared at me for a long time. It seemed like a silence of hours. Then he said simply “That is good. We needed to know.” And he became relaxed and took me off to the exam room, shuffling along, much to my great amusement like Tim Conway’s “old man” routine on the Carol Burnett Show. At the exam’s conclusion, we shuffled (literally), back to his office where my mother waited. He looked at papers on his desk and concluded that my EEG was normal, but I appeared to have a “Seizure Disorder”. He wrote a perscription for me to take daily. And with that, we left. Mom was silent for the most part on the way home. We didn’t talk about the diagnosis. We did fill the perscription. But there was a tense air that really continued for many years when it came to this subject. I quickly learned that this was not something to talk about. I should just take my medicine and stay silent. I did. Except, there was a problem… Every so often I had another seizure. They were mild, by seizure standards (which was not something I ever expected I’d even know). They only came a few times a year. But each time, the upset in the house was obvious. No one acted angry, just upset and silent. Grave. The mood of the house lasted for days. And I felt very alone and very sorry…..but I didn’t even know why I felt sorry. Maybe I was just sorry that I seemed to have done something to upset everyone so much. Maybe I was sorry I had this damn problem in the first place. I didn’t even know how I got it. I didn’t even know if it was going to go away. I didn’t know what I had done to deserve this. I felt punished. Later, I had more medicine added and very few breakthrough seizures. I could finally drive legally by the time I was a senior in high school. During all of this, I still did every regular teenage thing that I could. I still had all the same friends. But I didn’t talk to them about it. Only one friend knew, and that was only because she witnessed one seizure. I woke from it knowing it had happened just by the look on her face as she stared out of a window near the bed. She had that look—like someone died…or worse. I felt sorry I had made her feel that way. College came and I had to tell my roommate, suitemate, my sorority, and later, my future husband, as I spent time with these people. In case I had a seizure, they needed to know about it. I blew it off as no big deal. I didn’t advertise it. I didn’t want to even mention it ever, but it was necessary to a select few. I hated my neurologists. I walked out of hospital ERs if people would call 911 even after I told them not to. I skipped medicine sometimes. I called that “forgetting” …but I don’t know if that was entirely true. I didn’t want to have this condition. So, I pretended that I didn’t for the most part. I was angry, but tried to ignore the entire situation. By the time I graduated and then got married, I had been diagnosed with a seizure disorder for over 8 years. But never once had I dealt with it or accepted myself. I stayed silent. I wouldn’t deal with it for many years. During college I suffered an knee injury that required major surgery….a reconstruction. After that surgery there were complications in treatment that led me to a seizure and a ripped patellar tendon. A month of complaints later, they discovered the tendon issue and I was whisked into emergency surgery where they did their best to make an impossible repair. Waking from that, I was told I would need a knee replacement, but because I had already had so many surgeries, I would need to wait until I was in my 60s. I could only realistically have one more major knee surgery or the nerves wouldn’t work anymore. I was 22. But, this…. this I dealt with. I worked hard through physical therapy. I pushed myself and the physical therapist so that we got my knee working much better than they ever dared to hope. Yes, I still w0uld wait for a replacement. Yes, it was still necessary and I couldn’t ride bikes or skate, ski or do a lot of fun things. But, I could climb stairs. I lived my life pretty normally. They didn’t know if I could. I knew that I would. I had to. Something inside me gave me a determination I didn’t know before. I believe there was a faint chant in my mind “not another health issue-no”. But it was faint enough that I didn’t really hear it completely. After being married, my husband and I found ourselves in a new city, where his job took him, and I worked a few jobs….and then at a preschool as a head teacher. There I met another teacher whom, I discovered after we became friends, had started to have seizures after her last child was born. Like me, they were mild. But very unlike me, Robin was very calm about hers. She didn’t like having them anymore than I did, but she was in a state of peace and acceptance. I tried, but I really couldn’t get there. Except for talking to Robin and to my husband, I mostly stayed silent on the matter…even internally. Fast forward several years to after the birth of our first child. When she was 9 months old, she suddenly cried out and fell over. She got a bluish tint to her face, especially around her lips and eyes. Her little legs kicked and hands flailed. Then, it was over. Of course, we rushed her to the hospital. The doctors there said she had a “Breath Holding Tantrum” and nothing more. It wasn’t something to worry about. They said she got angry and would hold her breath until she fainted, then she kicked and finished her tantrum. This didn’t quite sit right, but we left with our daughter who was babbling and happy. Everything seemed fine. And good news is easier to stomach. Except, again, there was a problem… this kept happening. Eventually, it occurred to me that it was impossible for someone to hold their breath and immediately fall to the ground in a faint. And the kicking of arms and legs, arching of the back….I knew what it was. I knew all along, somewhere inside my stubborn brain. She was having seizures. I knew it. A pediatric neurologist and tests agreed with me. My, now, one year old daughter had a seizure disorder. And this…this was a moment when I suddenly, almost immediately, came to grips with my own seizure issue. First, of course, I felt guilt when I learned it was a hereditary condition. I gave this to my daughter, albeit, unknowingly and unwantingly. That was a hard burden to bear. But I had to let it go. After all, at that moment I also learned how I ended up with my own seizures….it was hereditary. Someone unknowingly passed it on to me. And, as I watched my father struggle with what were suddenly very obvious petite mal seizures (kind of like fuzzing out for a few seconds and not paying attention), I know whose genetics passed it to me. I held no anger towards him. None at all. He couldn’t even admit to himself that he was having issues (and neither of my parents accept that to this day). I let the guilt slide away. Then I went through a short stage of anger. No one ever talked about this or helped me deal with this during my life. I suffered alone, except for my husband who loved me despite occassional seizures and a bad knee. My extended family didn’t even know I had seizures until I told them a few years ago. But shortly after the anger phase started (perhaps minutes later), I remembered my mother’s face after that first seizure, so terrified and confused and alone. I remembered my friend’s face after she saw me have one for the first time, looking like she just witnessed my death. I recalled my husband’s face every time I had one. They were all scared. And, they had no tools to deal with this themselves. They couldn’t help me deal with it. That was my own job. Anger left very quickly. I realized that for the sake of my daughter who now also had seizures, I needed to be vocal. I needed to talk about my seizures. I needed to let people know how many millions of people are diagnosed with this. (Several people you know have this in some form…that is how many, believe it or not.) I needed to teach my daughter through my own example that this was OK. The way some people chose to treat those with seizures isn’t acceptable… (I have a few unpleasant examples, myself, and I really didn’t run into as much as a lot of people do.) but that would be their journey, not mine. This is just a condition like any other. It is treatable. It is ok. I am ok. An enormous burden was lifted from me at that moment. For the first time since I was 15 years old I fully accepted myself, loved myself, and knew my place in the world was not going to be poorly affected by this condition. Later, I laughed when I saw the film “Titanic”—at the part where he stood at the bow of the ship, arms outspread and yelled “I AM KING OF THE WORLD”. At the moment I accepted having a seizure disorder, I felt just like that. Nothing would stop me in life…no matter what I came across during my travels. I have come, through this path, to look upon this seizure disorder as a blessing. Without going through this experience and having to come to terms with it, I would never have been able to push myself hard enough to create a workable knee to get me to beyond 60 years old. This experience gave me tools in a toolbox that was nearly empty before. Suddenly, I realized, it was full of wrenches, screwdrivers, hammers—the works! It was a good thing too. The trials weren’t over. We lost two children to miscarriages. My pregnancies were very, very difficult requiring a total of 9 months of full bedrest between the three children. Our youngest son fell from a 2 story bedroom window. He also has asthma that is difficult to control, and he, too, had a few seizures at 18 months old. There have been many other things to work through. But, I have tools to deal with all of this….and much, much more. Life is long…the trials aren’t over. I am ok with that. I know I will be able to get through it all. Disguised blessings may take a long time to discover and recognize for their worth…but, they are so indispensible, perhaps because they require so much work. Whatever the reason, I am grateful. ~Lisa Mitchell Parker
