Being Fat May Not Be Where It's At, But It's Part of Me

    In case you hadn't noticed, I'm a fatty. Am I ashamed? Hell no! What I am ashamed of is how non fat people, judge fat people like myself.

    You don't know my story. I don't know yours. Which is why I won't stare at you, and judge you.

    Am I trying to glorify being fat? Nope. But I'm tired of being ashamed of being me. I won't be ashamed of being me.

    You see, I'm a mother. A wife. A daughter. A sister. A cousin. An aunt. I'm someones friend. And I'm fat. I'm also chronically ill. 

    Just getting out of bed is a chore for me. Taking a bath, and having to wash my hair is exhausting. But like I said, I'm a wife, and a mother, and more. I HAVE to do these things, and so much more. I push through the pain and exhaustion, and live my life, to the best of my ability.

    I recently got a knock off pedometer thingy. I'm proud of myself for doing 2500 steps a day. Yeah, I know, most of you are happy to get 5,000, even 10,000, and that's great for you. For someone who struggles to walk, taking 2,500 steps is HUGE for me.

    And the days where I am so exhausted, I can barely make 1,500 steps, well I'm proud of that too. I'm proud, because I'm trying.

    Being fat isn't a CHOICE. It happens. Believe it or not, before my son, and before all these illnesses, I was only 100 pounds.

    My weight is a number. It doesn't define me. Just like autism doesn't define us. Or our illnesses don't define us.

    Do I want to be healthy? Hell yes! I WISH my immune system and my body could work together. I hate being sick. I hate having to tell my son I can't play outside with him because I'm too ill. I spend my "good" days making up for the "bad" ones. Then,  I do so much with my son, and around my house, that the next day will always be a "bad" day for me.

    This is the life of chronic illness. This is the life of a fat person. So stop judging me. Stop judging others. (Also, saying, "She's pretty, for a fat girl," is super rude, so stop doing that too.)

Sincerely,

All the fat people  <3 <3

We've Been to Hell and Back, So Don't Say I Never Took You Anywhere

    Ten years ago today Pita and I said I do. It was a million degrees that day in Mobile Alabama, and I literally felt as though I was melting. We had no clue how turbulent our journey together would be. That day we never even considered it. We were happy and that was all that mattered.

    Long story short, I conceived during Hurricane Katrina. I was high risk and had to quit my job as a tattoo artist. Pita took a job in construction because there was so much damage from Katrina. Sadly though, people needed their homes fixed to live in, but were still waiting on their FEMA checks, so hubby rarely got paid. We were barely making it. By December we moved back to Pa.

   That was just the beginning. From then on, every time things seemed to look up, something else brought us down. So is the way of the world I guess. Our marriage has been tumultuous, to say the least. We have wanted to give up a few times. We didn't. We stuck it out, and here we are.

   Marriage is work. It's never sunshine and lollipops. Life has a way of slapping us when we're down. We're pretty used to that. Through major surgeries, chronic medical conditions, autism, bipolar disorder, and living on squat, we persevere. We choose to fight, so here we are.

    Today we're having a small "reception" complete with a wedding cake because we didn't have that when we got married. Pita came home from picking up the last minute items that I needed, and said, "Dammit! I forgot to get you a card! I even had something so nice to say. Well, I'll just tell ya!"

     "I was going to write: We've been to Hell and back so many times. I don't have a lot of money, but together we have a lot. And since we've been to Hell and back so many times, you can't say I never took you anywhere."

    That pretty much sums up our marriage. Without humor and added sarcasm, I think we'd never survive. When life kicks us, we laugh (well after a day or so of sulking.) If someone were to ask us what the key to our marriage has been, I would have to say, humor, laughter, resilience, forgiveness, and of course love.

    "We don't have a lot, but together we have it all."

A thank you letter to a good samaritan

 I know Halloween is tomorrow, but I'm already stressing about Christmas. Already hoping and waiting for the call from Grace Connection. When it comes, I will forward this letter with our Christmas card.

    Dear Good Samaritan,

    Let me start by introducing who I am. My name is Courtney. My husband and I have an 8 year old son with autism and then some. Our little boy struggles with more labels then a clearance item.  I have many chronic illnesses. My husband has more metal in his body than bones. I know that the church doesn't tell you who we are. I know they don't tell you our story, for confidential reasons. I am reaching out to tell you our story, because I want you to know.

    Christmas is my favorite holiday. Full of magic and wonder. Love and family. Yet every year, I dread that count down.  Paying our bills is a stretch, so of course, buying presents for our son is something that isn't possible. I worry that he won't, get a "visit from Santa," because I worry about how we will put presents under the tree.

    My son doesn't worry. He believes in the magic of Christmas. Every year, the week before Thanksgiving, he starts in about the tree. You see, part of being autistic is their mind fixates on something and then hyper focuses on it. So it is around this time, that the Christmas fascination begins in full swing. (He starts his wish list before Halloween though.)

    We of course have a fake tree because we can't afford to buy a real one. But it's a little tree, and we love it for it's memories. So with tradition, the day before turkey day, my son and I get out the tree and assemble it. He then helps me string the lights, and we plug it in. Making him wait until the next morning to decorate is a chore, but he is getting better at knowing why we wait.

    Thanksgiving morning as we watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, we as a family, decorate our tree. My son is all a chatter about Santa coming soon. He is ooing and ahhing over his special and most prized ornaments. He is in his glory.

    We too are happy. But we are still wondering. Still praying, that our family has been "adopted" by a good soul such as yourself. Of course, our son doesn't know this. As the days turn into weeks, and we run our errands, each time we see a Red Kettle Bell Ringer, my son gets all excited. He gathers all the change in the car, and crams it into his pockets. He drops a lot because his motor skills are off. He gets upset with himself. Never the less, we gather it up, and he proudly deposits it into the kettle. His face literally glows with pride. So does ours. We may not have a lot, but as the saying goes, together we have it all. We can't afford a lot, but we know, and have taught our son, about the good that the Salvation Army does for others. He never forgets.

    Then we get a call from the church. Our prayers have been answered. A kind soul, an anonymous good samaritan, has chosen our family to help with Christmas. What a true blessing. Each year when my husband picks up the boxes, there are presents for the ENTIRE family. Stockings stuffed to the gills with goodies and small toys. (perfect for little ones with sensory and motor skills needs.) And each year, we cry in secret. In sadness, because we can't make Christmas magical, but also in relief that someone else, someone who doesn't even know us, cares enough to make it happen.

    I thank you. I thank you for the relief. I thank you for caring. I thank you for making our holiday so special. For answering my son's wishes. I can't yet tell my son about you. He's 8 and he still believes. You know how I know? I know because he said to me the other day, "Momma! I know that Santa Claus is REAL!!!!! You know how I know?"

    I reply, "no buddy, how do you know?" and he looks at me, with his chubby little cheeks and his adorable little grin and replies, "I know 'cause we are poor, but I still get presents. So that means that Santa HAS to be real!!!!"

    I smiled and walked away. I had to "go to the bathroom." I closed the door. I turned on the faucet to drown out my noise, and I cried. I cried because my son knows we're poor. I cried because he still believes in the magic of Santa. I cried  because of you. Because of your love and kindness for our family.

    I'm not telling you our story for sympathy. I'm not sharing this for attention. I am reaching out because from one human to another, I want YOU to know, just how much, what you do means to us. I want you to know that we are thankful. We feel blessed by your kindness. You are keeping the spirit of Santa alive, for a little boy who truly deserves the world.


Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts,      

A Family in Need
















                                                                                                                           Liam last year with some sensory toys from Santa
                                                                                         

My Messy Beautiful Life....

  When I got the email invite from Momastery about this project, I knew I had to take part. I knew I would fight my brain, and figure out a way to get my words out, come Hell or high water!!!! You see, a very large part of my messy beautiful life is that I live with chronic illnesses. A lot of them....

 The Fibromyalgia causes horrible brain fog and memory problems to boot! I can't tell you what I ate yesterday, but I can tell you EVERY single teacher I had since kindergarten. (Useless info is what PITA calls it.) I also have chronic fatigue syndrome, Hashimotos disease, Endometriosis, Hemorrhagic Ovarian Cysts, and more.... I don't want to bore you with the details.

 The chronic pain can be debilitating some days, but I push on. I have to. I am a mom. Not just a "normal" mom, I'm an Autism mom!






 My son Liam (whom is the reason I started to blog in the first place) will be 8 in May, and he is autistic. He has taught me a lot in 8 years. I have grown in ways I never would have imagined. (especially in clothing sizes!) I have learned that no love compares to the love between a parent and a child. I have learned that I am a lot stronger than I thought I was. Even on my worsT days, when I can't seem to get off my chair, I am still an ass kicking momma!!!

 I have learned that public schools really aren't for everyone. I have learned that I make a pretty damn good special needs teacher. (There is no feeling like hearing your child read, and knowing that it was YOU that taught him that.) I have learned that I am a force to be reckoned with. (Just asK NEB.... that school really despises me, because of my advocating for my son.)

 I have learned that I don't care.

Now before anyone decides to go sanctimommy on that sentence, let me explain. I don't care what you, or you over there... or you hiding behind your computer, think of me. I have lost "friends" because I talk about Autism and how it impacts our life, a LOT. My world revolves around my son, and if people don't like that, it's their loss.  It doesn't matter to me.


What matters is what my son thinks of me. What matters is what I think of me.



  I have learned that even though this world is chock full of asshats.... that there is still a TON of AUSOME people left in the world. A lot of these people follow us on A Legion for Liam. A lot of these people I now call friends. I have never really "met" them. I don't need to. I KNOW them. They are good shit! And even though I don't like social functions, if some of these ladies wanted to get together, I would jump and scream at the chance! (I'm talking about you Housewives!!!) I have learned that family doesn't mean you are blood related! I have gained 6 sisters in the last year and I love them all!

 I have learned that my family is even more amazing than I thought they were. They have rallied around Liam since his diagnosis in 2010. They have supported, and learned, and understand Liam and Autism. It's amazing. They have also rallied around me. They support me, and my decisions about our life. They offer me guidance when I feel like hope is lost. In general, they ROCK!!!

 So I guess what I am getting at is this. Your life may be "messy." It may be difficult. It may royally suck sometimes. But bottom line, someone ALWAYS has it worse. So be thankful. Be glad that you have a "messy, beautiful life!"

For more #CarryOnWarrior posts, click  HERE.

This is me....

I am just another face.... Just another person living with chronic pain. Many people don't get it. Many people think it's bull shit. I'm here to tell you, it's real. This is my life. This is me.

What did I do today to be in so much pain tonight? Normal housework. I did the dishes, cleaned the bathroom and did 3 loads of laundry. Doesn't seem like much does it? Tell that to my body. This is my face tonight:

I am fighting back tears even as I sit here and type.

It hurts to sit, to stand, to walk, to cry....

There are people who think that fibromyalgia and chronic pain is a joke. That it's fake. That we are using it as an excuse to be lazy. I know this. I have been told it many times. 

Do I look like I am faking it? Do you think I enjoy knowing that simple tasks such as housework, or a game of catch with my boy, will leave me chair ridden for at least a day or two??? Do you think this is the life I chose????

It's the life I was given. I won't back down, and I won't give up. I'll do what I do every other day. I will suck it up. I will wipe my tears, and I will keep on keeping on.

Not for me really, but for my son. Because he deserves more. Because he doesn't understand why mommy cries so much.

I'm NOT Perfect....

per·fect  (pûrfkt)

adj.

1. Lacking nothing essential to the whole; complete of its nature or kind.

2. Being without defect or blemish: a perfect specimen.

3. Thoroughly skilled or talented in a certain field or area; proficient.

4. Completely suited for a particular purpose or situation.

Above is the definition of perfect.... so what is perfect? Am I? HELL NO! Is my life??? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.... And yet, I go on. I smile, and I trudge through the shit that flows my way. I don't sit behind my computer and whine. I don't sit on my high horse and tear others down. I pull up my big girl panties, and I friggin' deal. Don't most of us?????

You can't read that above definition and tell me YOUR life is perfect. Or that YOU are perfect, because NEWS FLASH, NONE OF US ARE PERFECT. We are all flawed in some way, our own way. Now own it! You are who you are.

In owning it, here are the ways I am NOT perfect: I am over weight. I am bitchy. I am sick and I am tired. I am often miserable. I have numerous health problems that have become too many to list. I am a good mom, but by no means perfect. There are days I can't get out of my chair to play with Liam and it rips my heart out. BUT, I try. I put a smile on my face. I ignore all the reasons I am not perfect, and I move on. 

My marriage??? Wow! So far from perfect it's scary. We deal. Simple as that. We took vows to one another and stick by them. We have had so many downs in our life, it's a wonder we are still together. But we are. We could have both thrown in the towel so many times, and yet we didn't. We become stronger. For us, for Liam. 

My life? We are broke. When I say broke, I mean BROKE! We are so far BELOW poverty limit, the people at Social Services ask us how we pay our bills. SERIOUSLY!!!! Well, thanks to family, we get by. Our bills are paid, but always late. We rob Peter to pay Paul and there is no room for extra. I can't even think about how we are going to pull Christmas off without breaking down into tears.

You know what else, we get food stamps. We are one of those families that has to have them or my child would starve. My husband has been unemployed due to work injuries since Liam was an infant. He has been fighting for disability since then. He has lost every time. Every doctor, and every surgeon he has seen can't believe the courts are fighting their signed affidavits that say he is disabled in every sense of the term. And yet we fight. Per our social workers request from the state, we filed for Liam. We were told because he is autistic and can't even attend regular school he would NOT be turned down. Guess what??? He was. Not once, but twice! So we are still fighting for that. Mean while there are people out there milking the system. They get disability when they can most certainly work. They get it for their kids with lesser diagnoses than my son, and their kids attend school. Why the hell is everything in our life so damn hard? My doctor has asked me when I will file because my list of illnesses is a mile long and I can't work either. I haven't yet. I can't be let down by the system again, I can't.

Something else you don't know about me? I am one of those people with food stamps that has an iPhone. I don't flaunt it. Matter of fact, I won't use it in the grocery store because I don't want people giving me nasty looks because I am on welfare and have a smart phone. I wouldn't have that phone if it weren't for my inlaws. They bought us the phone, and they added us to their plan. They pay the monthly fees, and we give them our recyclables and my parents to try and offset the cost. Do you know how bad it hurts when I see those comments about people who can't feed their kids and have a phone. It hurts like hell.

So you see, when you are down on your ass, and feeling sorry for yourself, you're not the only one. Look around. Some have it worse than you. Instead of lolling in your pity, stand up and move on. Such is life. It sucks. It's hard. It's not all sunshine and rainbows. But it is what you make of it.

I could fill a book with all of the shitty things that have happened in our lives in the past 9 years. People would be amazed that A) Pita and I haven't killed anyone yet, and B) Pita and I are still married. I could also sit here every day in my pain and be a rotten bitch to the world, but do I?  No. Because I CHOOSE not too. What good does that do me? Or anyone else for that matter? 

Life isn't a competition. It's life. If you ooze unhappiness, the people around you will be miserable too. Have enough compassion for the rest of the world to not be that asshole. Put a smile on your face, suck it up and TRY to be happy. 

                     

                                                               

                                                                    <3 <3 <3 <3

Lazy or numb...

  I have barely blogged in months. I can't quite decide if it's because I'm lazy or just numb. I say lazy because I am always so damn tired.  Keeping up with Liam, life, PAUSE, and the Legion has me mentally exhausted. Having a chronic illness sucks the life out you in so many ways. Too many to take the time to list. I have had to prioritize our life so much more in the past months. This means, that my blog has suffered the most because well, not that many people read it anyway. :)

  I started this blog as a way for me to vent. Apparently I was annoying people a few years ago, when I was using my facebook page (personal one) to talk about Autism. Now I could care less, but that is how this blog was born. I vent much less now. Sometimes I vent on ALFL or on RHoA if I am using my more colorful language. But the deep, heartfelt vents are few and far between lately. I think I am numb.

"My heart is broke
But I have some glue
Help me inhale
And mend it with you
We'll float around
And hang out on clouds
Then we'll come down
And have a hangover "

  I mean, of course I have a heart. Wouldn't be alive if I didn't. But I have been closing it off from the world a lot in the last six months, maybe even longer than that. I haven't been letting myself feel. I have become hard. I have become numb. Not because of anyone or any one thing, in particular. Because I am tired. I am fed up. I am afraid that if I let myself feel, I will lose it. I will lock myself in a room and I will ugly cry. Probably for days. Let's face it: "Ain't Nobody Got Time For Dat!"

"Sit in the sun
Fall asleep
Wish away
soul is cheap
Lesson learned
Wish me luck
Soothe the burn
Wake me up"

  I don't want to feel that pain. I don't want to cry. I want to keep it inside and ignore it. It has nothing to do with Liam. Or Autism. It has everything to do with myself. My constant pain and fatigue. Being broke and knowing there is not a damn thing I myself, can do about it. It's about realizing that yep, our life is hard as hell sometimes, but who am I to whine. There are people out there who have it a hell of a lot worse. We have a home. We have a family. We have love. There are people who have NONE of that. So I chose to suck it up, and keep on, keeping on.

"I'm not like them
But I can pretend
The sun is gone,
But I have a light
the day is done,
I'm having fun
I think I'm dumb
Or Maybe just happy"
  I sometimes feel I shouldn't refer to myself as a "blogger," let alone a "writer," because I barely do either. But dammit, I like the sound of that so much more than "disabled,"  "housewife," "maid," and so on.  No, I didn't go to college. I graduated high school, got married, made a ton of mistakes, taught myself how to tattoo and then after YEARS of hard work I became a tattoo artist. I can't even do that any more because I can't sit in one place that long. I can't bend hardly at all. My hands go numb after holding my machine for longer than 10 minutes. I can't draw anymore either and I LOVED to paint and draw. So, being on my laptop and writing or creating digital art is the only creativity I am left with any more. God, would you believe I am 34 and not 74!!! (I feel the latter though.)

  So for all this and more, I am now going to refer to myself as "A Lazy, Numb, Sometimes Blogger..." Because at least that way I am being truthful ;)

"Think I'm just happy ,
Think I'm just happy ,
Think I'm just happy ."

                                                                  <3 <3 <3 <3

Song Lyrics belong to Nirvana, written by Kurt Cobain