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Why M*A*S*H Quiets my PTSD.

Hello my loves – out here in what seems like a time capsule of my not so hottest moments. I have kept this blog out of sight, and out of mind for such a long time. Sometimes I am overwhelmed with curiosity to read through what moved me forever ago – and I tuck it away again – or I come back and jot down quick thoughts with what seems like years in between them. I have debated over and over deleting this website – and finally out of a sheer miracle I decided to give it a much needed facelift and re-boot. I am so so proud and thankful to all of you who have been readers even through my most difficult and “loud” phases. I remember how therapeutic it use to feel sitting down at my laptop nightly, scribbling out all my most inner thoughts to help me process my disease. I went to conference after receiving the Young Adult PH Citizen Award in 2014, came back home so inspired, and then quickly spiraled. I was increasingly unhappy in my environment, and could not focus while my mind was clouded with so much anger and paranoia. My disease was forcing me to look at things with a different shade, and the results were earth shattering and numbing. While writing kept me sane, in some aspects it backfired, but gave me a log to see how trauma and disease changes the brain.  I’ve very very very slowly begun writing over the past two-ish years mainly trying to get to know the new me – who understands my triggers, and who knows when to breathe and re-associate myself with my actual surroundings. I wasn’t fixed the day I was diagnosed with PTSD but rather it has taken two years since then of training my brain, and reactions with hiccups along the way. The person who started this blog is no longer existent which is a very heavy thing to say. My body has changed, along with my cells and skin. I have tubing that pokes out of my chest, new scars, new tattoos, and a less clouded mind – depending on the day. I have come to understand this is natural, and like I have typed before, it is okay to change amidst your survival. Thank you again, for your support and please email me or comment if you would like to get in touch or have questions. All pages on the blog have been updated so please take a peek if you feel like it!

Moving forward…

I was diagnosed with severe Post Traumatic Stress Disorder in the summer of 2016. From around August of 2014 I began to have ridiculous over the top anxiety attacks. I would zone out for hours sometimes, would breakdown over little things, lose my temper, had memory issues, and I didn’t feel like getting out of bed. I tried to take on more work to feel “responsible” to make up for my sudden weirdness, my drinking increased, and I had just quit education because it was really hard to be around kids you adored everyday knowing you could never have your own; unknown to me I was triggered, and my outlook on my disease and treatment was changing. I felt lost, and very much so an outsider – cue the alienation phase. I began dancing in our beautiful winter ceremonies that winter, and it did in fact give me relief until they ended around February. By late April, I was the worst I had ever been, completely sedated and addicted to Xanax, and I decided to move to New Mexico which ultimately opened up so many doors in healing – not only spiritually – but also with a new specialist team who knew how to deal with me. I am extremely thankful everyday that I listened to this internal pursuit to go to the Land of Enchantment.

But before I got to New Mexico it was hard to put down pills and find some kind of everyday relief while I was in my worst moments. Music seemed to bring on more emotion, and could very quickly aggravate and disassociate me. This is when I ran across MASH (the TV show) on Netflix, and attempted to give it a try. It’s basic knowledge to anyone that I love the oldies, and while I never got to really watch MASH I remember seeing it on TV from time to time (like everyone else:)  It’s an understatement to say that I was instantly hooked. Instead of sleeping all day – I would prop my phone somewhere playing MASH while I cleaned my room, or got the motivation to apply for jobs in New Mexico. MASH had a way of dulling the background noise, balancing out my thinking and surroundings to where I could function again.

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Hawkeye – for me – is someone who my soul tugs at. He remains his kooky comedic self among nothing but despair and disaster in the middle of a war. He is relatable how he fights against the trauma and injustice he feels he is experiencing; I can watch MASH and feel heard yet relieved.  Pulmonary Hypertension is my war. Hospitals, surgeries, losing funding for basic life needs, fighting just for your existence. It’s known to lead to some mental breakdowns – as we all know Hawkeye had plenty. He lost Henry Blake, and Trapper John but I lost Sean Wyman and Rebecca Lindenberg. “I’ve been fighting death since I came over here. I’m tired of death. I’m tired to death. They’ll keep coming whether I’m here or not. Trapper went home – they’re still coming. Henry got killed and they’re still coming.” -Hawkeye  Friends pass, others are recovering from the beautiful miracle of organ donation. And here the rest of us are – our oxygen tanks, pills, pumps at our side, continuing to fight for our lives.

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MASH is still an escape, and relief to my reality four years later after experiencing an internal war. I am so grateful for my PH family – my beautiful friends who I feel like they exist in those green tents with me while bombs explode outside. We all share this sense of mortality, and morbid hilarity; as Hawkeye has put, “joking about it is the only way of opening my mouth without screaming.” If you are needing something warm, funny, and relief to an active mind consider this show for comfort! Everyone is different including their triggers. What works for me may not for you.

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All of this and MASH babbling to say that if you are struggling – you are not alone. There will be a day when the clouds clear and anger subsides. Sean Wyman reminded me of that while I sat in ICU crying over the new tube in my chest. The anger has subsided, the paranoia comes in waves, and the grief will always be hanging in the background like some decorative tapestry. That is just the new normal. With that being said I am so grateful today for another summer, beautiful New Mexico landscapes, wildflowers, farmers markets, days with Rocco Ricardo, and groovy records. Peace is possible within this fight.

-haley.

 

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I Am THAT Sick. 

“Do you feel like you have quality of life?” was something asked by my palliative care nurse yesterday. Honestly, who could call this tube and machine attached to me “quality?”

I have been writing for almost five years about living with a terminal disease that is masked by this perceived normal, if you will, and the absolute frustration of everyday ignorance when it comes to people respecting and believing your reality. We are made out to be drama queens, negative, “too much”, and just about any other word humans would like to use as a buffer for their level of comfort. It’s an isolating feeling to know you are surrounded by people who will slap a prayer on a Facebook status, but will indirectly do what they can to keep your “suckage” far away from their steady life. It’s a dull feeling to know that you live among people who are contributing to the lack of early diagnosis problem by once again thinking you are just being dramatic, or negative. Patients literally die because they are told consistently that nothing is wrong.

Late January, death was on my mind quite frequently. My “end of life” wishes, and how they might find me in my home. I was having tachycardic episodes just even trying to pet Rocco, and found myself laying in the floor more often than not trying to calm my breathing, and move past that suffocating feeling. I knew what was coming; my invisible illness was working its way out.

After an almost two-week hospital stay, countless mental breakdowns, bruised arms, bruised hands, new nurse friends, and “mixing classes”- I walked away with a tube in my chest attached to a little machine. I never realized how many v-necks I own, or tops that lace up until I noticed a little white patch peeking out in the mirror. I have attempted to walk across my living room countless times before feeling a little tug reminding me that I am permanently bonded to this anchor. I forgot to enjoy just seeing my necklace resting against my bare chest, or how amazing my weird habit of rubbing my collar bones felt in which now my right one has a tube stretched over it.


Quite shockingly, the amount of “I didn’t know you were THIS sick” messages I received is more sickening than my heart failure in itself. I guess people really do want this justifiable evidence that you are in fact suffering which I guess seems understandable, but; while they see tubing they still don’t see the bills pile up for the expensive maintenance that is required to keep you alive. While they see your pump now they still don’t see you spending enormous amounts of time mixing your medication just right so you don’t accidentally kill yourself. While they see grumpy Facebook updates they don’t feel the mind numbing reality of laying in bed, throwing up, running to the bathroom every five seconds, and doing what you can to manage your pain level. While they see your spotty red rash along with your chest they don’t see your mini hospital that is quickly swallowing your cute home.

Congrats. You have your physical evidence. I am sick. My body is now reflecting its insides – and you know what? Despite whether Pulmonary Hypertension was visible to you or not, it has been this way for seven years – since day one of my diagnosis. It has always been this level of life altering since the moment they told me I did not have a good chance at a quality of life for long. It has been this horrible since the first echocardiogram when I was eighteen, or finding out I could never carry my own child. Open your eyes, listen to people, and gain some perspective on what sick means. The thought, and fact that you are stuck inside of a body that cannot carry you across the finish line, and that will cost you millions of dollars is realistic. You are allowed to feel this way; do not minimize your pain for others comfort.

While I realize I am NOT my disease, I find myself enveloped within it quite frequently. Instead of fighting it, I am making friends with it whether you can conveniently see that or not.

-haley.

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Stay Gold.

Don’t meet others expectations for you. Don’t expect anyone’s understanding towards your suffering, and do not apologize for your pain. Do set your own goals, and meet your own expectations for yourself despite what society wants for “you.” Do feel your pain, acknowledge it, and do not hide your suffering. Stay Gold to what you are, what you feel, and what you do. Stay Gold to what you need, and what you want. Stay Gold to all those little things that appear shattered and broken in your mind, but so delicately and warmly reflect you.

Stay Gold to you.

-haley.

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Awareness IS Power.

I guess you could call me a realistic type of person; for those of us who say that we often border the “negative” side to life. We are hushed, scolded, and covered up while others keep talking about their blessed life, and glare at humans who have an outcry. That’s fine, and all well for you, but my voice and my passion does not exist without a drive…and what drives me are the faults I have been born into. It’s okay to say that. I have a very faulty life. What makes it okay to say that? Well, it’s very hard to keep endless anger and pain locked inside of yourself. My organs are heavy from a daily battle against themselves, and quite frankly, I refuse to let them swim in a secret pain so that others may continuously live a life of comfort.

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The world is in a very weird, and groundbreaking place – can we all agree on that? I think because of the power of social media, life experiences, and just plain intelligence that people (and definitely our kids) are coming in tune with an “awareness.” They get political issues, social issues, climate issues, personal issues, drug issues, racial issues…all of the ugliness delivered to their LED screens, or experience this in their daily life. I feel that America’s new generations are creating a voice for themselves on racial issues, political issues, women’s rights, and yes even healthcare issues because they want to see change. All of the not-so-comforting news that the world has tried to lock away in some secret closet is finally exploding because of the want for change, and awareness. While having your head in the sand might sound lovely, appreciating and trying to help others pain is more rewarding. With awareness I feel it creates intelligent, cultured people who will connect to others easily and form a genuine respect for another persons’ life. A fabulous example of this? Humans of New York. Hearing the struggles behind ordinary faces in turn creates a sea of emotion in us, and a connection to our fellow beings.

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I will not hide my anger, or pain for your comfort. Yes, I will try to be positive while being realistic. I want America to see what such young/ordinary looking people with an invisible illness do daily just to breathe. I want everyone to open their eyes, and mind to what a person really feels with a terminal illness – not just what books and movies let you think. I want the world to see how much companies from movie industries to insurance companies are profiting off of sick beings – including children. I want people to be aware.

Awareness is knowledge. Awareness is power. Awareness is respect. Awareness can change anything.

-haley.

 

Hear what I’m currently jamming to under “song of the week” 🙂

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It’s Not Fair.

My life has been a series of a whole lot of struggles, especially lately. Life will never hesitate to jump out of the bushes, and knock you to the ground. From dealing with my health, jobs, stressful life decisions, and Rocco’s health you could definitely say I’m exhausted.

When I first adopted Rocco I had just been diagnosed. I had nothing to do, was forced not to work, or go to school, so therefore I decided to bring home a very small barely six-week old kitten. He was hard work from day one: he had fleas, he couldn’t receive any flea treatments because he was too young, he had to have baths, and he also had to be bottle fed. When he slept I slept, and when he was awake he was needing to be fed, and supervised (he wasn’t allowed to walk around because the other cats didn’t need fleas – also he was too small.) For being on bed rest, I was a very busy new “cat mom.” I cried by the end of that first week because I was so exhausted taking care of this super young cat. I noticed though the more he grew that the harder his abdomen got. He was this tiny little cat with this very distended bulging belly.

Processed with VSCOcam with f2 presetRocco was diagnosed with Asthma a little over a year later. He has an oversized heart, and lots of fluid in his lungs which causes him to start coughing in which then he literally starts drowning in his own body. My dad and I have spent hundreds of dollars on appointments, equipement, medication and beyond that have spent hours with Rocco trying to keep him breathing. Our other cats were kind of ignored because of this – and we’ve exhausted and ignored our own needs because of the love we have for Rocco.

Rocco is my kid, and he is my best friend. Moving away by myself he of course came with me, and I’ve clung to him even more than before. He is my companion, he is who I come home to at night, and he is who needs me and loves me unconditionally. Our relationship has definitely changed after moving away though. I never spend too many hours away from my home, when I drive to the nearest town for groceries I time it just right, and feel excited/panicky on the drive back because I know Rocco is waiting…even though he is probably asleep and could care less. After I come home from work, he purrs, and is glued to me. When I leave town, he comes with me. And at three this morning while he gasped for air, I cried and clung to him almost yelling at him that he couldn’t leave me yet. That’s when it hit me; how ridiculously co-dependent I am on Rocco.

It’s honestly not fair that he was put into my life with such a malfunctioning set of lungs. It’s not fair how attached we’ve become with always a threatening gloom hanging over us that one of these days his lungs will not keep going. However like I’ve said before, I’m glad he ended up with a mom who also has shitty lungs, and knew how to take care of him while others would’ve had given up on him long ago. I hope my Rocco will stay with me a little longer. His purrs, furs, grumpy attitudes, cuddles, and talkative days are what I need.

I love him so much. It really just isn’t fair. That’s all.

-haley.

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Textbook Breakdown Part 2: Diagnosis.

So, yesterday we covered what Pulmonary Hypertension is in itself. Now today we’re moving onto how we find PH, and who has it. If you missed yesterdays post, then click here to share or read it.

So, since Pulmonary Hypertension is happening in the lungs itself affecting the heart and internal organs, it’s not affecting much of what happens on the outside of this person. In fact, most Pulmonary Hypertension patients are young; kids, babies, teenagers, young adults, you name it. Anyone could be born with Pulmonary Hypertension. Basically, Pulmonary Hypertension hides behind a mask of youth, or “normal.”

Someone may be born with Pulmonary Hypertension, and take years to finally show it. They could be like me, attending public school, participating in physical activities, then one day feel a very unusual and horrid pain all over, and lose consciousness. Most people would either ignore it, or think they had an asthma attack. Even if this young patient was attended to by medical care in a hospital, or doctors office they would never do an EKG (checking heart rhythms) an oxygen test, or chest x-ray…why? Because why in the world would we check a very young person’s heart when they just got tired, and collapsed? When people ask why we collapsed, we tend to only be able to answer that we couldn’t breathe. People generalize those symptoms down into something like asthma. PH doesn’t have a disease appearance because it’s all internal therefore just about every person does not take the person’s symptoms seriously. A PH patient begins to think they might be crazy, are out of shape, and need to learn to keep up. Maybe they’re told that they have an anxiety disorder, or something. Basically, it is very very very rare for anyone to listen to someone suffering from PH because they can’t “see it.”

So what happens after being ignored for so long? The pressure in the heart, and lungs begins to mount and the patient begins to get worse. Not being able to walk, fainting with any physical exertion, and the downfall of their quality of life. Yes, this will even happen to kids. Pulmonary Hypertension patients can die at any time for a variety of things; blood clots, an arteries bursting, their heart rhythm becoming too chaotic, and finally their heart just stopping. If a PH patient is not taken seriously by medical professionals in time, their chances of dying increase every day.

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So what happens when a patient is actually taken seriously, and what does it take for a doctor to find PH? An EKG, and a simple oxygen saturation test should at least show some concern with a weird rhythm presenting a conduction delay, or showing the right side of the heart is working too hard. The oxygen levels should also be low. A chest x-ray, or echo should show that the heart is over sized which a normal physician would immediately want a heart catheterization done. A heart catheterization is where they insert a catheter in the femoral artery (or a vein in the neck) and move it all the way into the heart. From there using fluoroscopy (a moving xray) they can view the actual heart itself to make sure it was formed right. Then they can measure the pressures, and actually see how the heart is pumping so they get an idea of what is wrong. If the heart is formed normally, but is still working so hard to the point of failure then that tells the doctor that the pressure is coming from the lungs…Pulmonary Hypertension.

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At this point the doctor would finish the surgery, and would contact the closest Pulmonary Hypertension Specialist, or Pulmonologist to start treating the patient immediately. Depending on how high pressures are, and what shape the patient’s organs are in, the doctor would now notify the family of the terminal diagnosis, and then the patient with a very grim life expectancy.

What now? Tomorrow we will dive into treatment.

-haley.

Personal Life

Take A Stand.

I’m so sick of the world right now. I’m so done with all the racist war shit that people keep throwing fire on rather than helping. Also, I’m sick of women being attacked. If you are a woman, and a PH patient, you should definitely be re-thinking how you vote, what you support, and you need to take action.

A lot of people are surprised to find out I’m Pro-choice. As if I’m some inspirational girl who supposedly is now an evil queen because I support “killing babies.” Yea, um, you’re ignorant. You see, I just don’t think it’s anyone else’s decision what I do with my life. What color my hair is, where I work, who I talk to, what car I buy, and most importantly when I will have children. “Well you decided to have kids the minute you conceive.” Not exactly, sister Christian. Lots of people like to participate in the act of sex before they ever think of having kids. Like getting married, celebrating that with your loved one, then years later finally deciding that you are “ready” to have a kid. What makes these women so different?

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You know, in a medical setting we can never force someone to do what they do not want to do. I didn’t want to be on blood thinners, and despite my then cardiologist trying to bully me into doing so, I chose not to then fired him. When I was first diagnosed, I had to release everything and give consent that they could even tell my parents what was going on because I was eighteen. Usually, you get such high respect in the medical field of what can and cannot be done to you, and if you don’t then legal trouble will follow. But why do we lose such respect when someone doesn’t agree with our life decision? After all, isn’t this medical?

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Something we are not really familiar with until we get into a bad situation is called Body Autonomy; ones right or control over their own body and it must not be infringed upon. For example, only you can decide to be an organ donor in which you and only you have to fill out paperwork saying to do so. A doctor can’t just walk up to you and say, “I like the way some of your organs are functioning. Since you are probably going to die today, we’ll be taking those after you are gone.” Would you be furious? Yes. Because it is your body. Even after a person has died they cannot just take the organs they need because a dead body still has body autonomy…a dead fucking body still has a right until proper consent is given.

You see, women should be able to decide what they want to do with their body despite what you think. Since when did you feel the need to control everyone’s decisions when you probably couldn’t decide what to wear this morning? What’s scary is the outlaw of abortion if all these psychotic religious nutbags get their way. Women who have Pulmonary Hypertension cannot carry a child due to the eighty-five percent mortality rate. Most just collapse and die from heart failure around seven months into it. On top of that, was the fetus ever getting enough oxygen the whole time? Probably not. So now we just lost a mother, and a child. Prevention? Women with Pulmonary Hypertension already have a risk of blood clotting, stroke, and heart attack. Birth control is a very unsafe, and deadly “option.”

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Why, why, why would you take away someone’s right? Why does a dead body have more control over their body than a woman? Who would ever think that this is okay? If you don’t agree with life decisions then keep on your side of the fence, and love others despite what psychotic outbursts you think you need to be having. I’m tired of “freedom” just being an advertisement for America rather than the truth; after all, what kind of freedom are we progressing into?

-haley.

Life With PH, PH Health

Look Beyond the Medication.

The other day I couldn’t help but see a negative comment from a struggling person that is dealing with PH in their life, or someone else’s. It read along the lines of, “PH already has you, and it will kill you” and yada yada yada. Does anyone think that this person kinda sounds like Peter Van Houten from Fault? Yea…

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Besides just being caught up in our bodies that fail us, we are caught up in medicine. A medical way of thinking, being by the book, and paying attention to statistics. We get sooo caught up in our outward images, and what we are being told all the time that we never strengthen ourselves inside out. We’re so used to adopting this “weak” lifestyle and image. People ask me why I’m at peace, or why I have a good attitude about seventy-five percent of the time, and it’s because I preach preach preach on mind over matter, and on spirituality. I’m not perfect, and there are definitely sucky days. Overall the spirit will always dominate the body. Our body will sometimes get its way, but that doesn’t mean we have to be miserable.

The more I immerse myself in my native studies, the more I discover exactly how amazing it is. Native American culture is good about stepping back, and appreciating things a lot of people dont…like the earth for example. 😉 But seriously, it’s awesome. When digging the other day I happened across this man comparing Western medicine with Native Spirituality in which he said The idea of wholeness is paramount in understanding Native-American perception of disability. Unlike many cultures that shun people with disabilities, Native Americans honor and respect them. They believe that a person weak in body is often blessed by the Creator as being especially strong in mind and spirit. By reducing our emphasis on the physical, which promotes our view of separation from our fellow man and all that is, a greater sense of connection with the whole is created, the ultimate source of strength.” -Laurance Johnston

Honor Song good sir!!!! Yes yes yes. The differences in how people view themselves, and other people greatly affects their life. How people choose to live, how to seek and find their true selves, their gifts, and cleansing their spirit greatly will affect their life. Another great example of how we are taught to think versus what we should be doing is proven by Kenneth Bear Hawk Cohen; Western Medicine – “How can I destroy my disease?” Native American Medicine – “What can the disease teach the patient? Is there a message or story in the disease?”

jingleFun Fact: The Jingle Dress (as pictured above) is a healing dress. It originates from the Ojibwe nation in which a girl was sick. Her father prayed to the Creator, offering tobacco, and seeking a vision. That night he dreamed of a dress with rolled up tobacco snuff lids, and a certain dance. He constructed the dress for his daughter, made her dance, and she recovered. To this day the Jingle is a competitive dance in Pow-Wows, and a lot of women will dance for those who need to be healed who still follow their traditions associated with the dress. Love love love it, as it is a powerful dance.

I’m not saying you need to start wearing feathers, and attending Pow-Wows (actually you should) but maybe this will give you a different perception, and outlook on your health. Summing someone up into a disease that we define as “it has you, and will kill you” is such an insult to our Creator. He made such beautiful things, including you; like you. Not just your body, but you.

-haley.

Life With PH, PH Health

Medicated Lungs and a Healing Heart.

There are two versions of Haley Ann; Calm, forgiving and accepting Haley, or as I like to call the other side of myself, Hurricane Haley. When my insurance company notified me that my copay for the medication that lets me keep breathing is two thousand and three hundred dollars for a ninety day supply, I really thought we were going to have to rebuild the house; Hurricane Haley was an understatement. At this point, I really shouldn’t be shocked. Healthcare is an over rated, over priced and screwed system that is basically unrealistic, but they know they can nail us anyways because healthcare is necessary. If you have insurance, don’t have insurance, Medicaid, whatever…we’re fucked. Lets just admit it.

Asking a twenty-two year old to pay two grand for a medication makes me laugh. Seriously, lets just start designing my headstone now because I refuse to pay that much. Yea, these companies are brilliant for saving my life, they deserve their part, but I also intend to live my life. Not just to devote my life to my medication that also gives me red patches, swelling, and migraines. I have dreams, like living in New Mexico, buying a new car, moving out, and maybe just maybe attaining a college education. But nah, I’ll just devote my life to my medication…no. Yea, I’m mad that the medication I actually have to have is that expensive, and most people were surprised to find out that if I didn’t find some way to pay for it then I didn’t care. “But Haley, this will heal you!” Yea…it makes my lungs feel better; but Adcirca will never heal me, or make me happy.

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As I have sported on my shirt many many many times before, and repeated myself, it’s an act of Mind Over Matter. Despite how many times you want to deny that, its true. Your medication can only go so far, because scientifically it’s programmed to do such. It doesn’t care about your mood that day, your goals, your loves, or dreams. Its pumped into your body, and does its job until another dosage is necessary. My medication improved my life, and yea kinda saved my life, but I had to save my own life with a different kind of healing. My medication was doing the best job it possibly could, and I still wanted to die for a long time, so I refused to take it. See? Your mind is in control. Patients; it really is all in your head. You are not crazy, your disease is not some “illusion” but if you cannot keep yourself emotionally and mentally happy, and at peace your body will not follow. It has to work together.

I got mad about my two thousand dollar copay, and for a moment actually worried. But I know that I heal myself in a completely different way. I know that dancing for my creator, thanking him for the food he provided, the new life, the four winds (ridiculous Texas winds) that he gave us to maintain all four seasons, and the beautiful animals and nature is healing to me. I know he listens to not only the drumming, and the rattling on the dance floor, but my prayers as well thanking him for allowing me to physically do these dances with people I love despite the aching in my body I feel towards the end. Yes, my body hurts, my heart works harder than it should, and my lungs want to cave in; but I am thrilled. I know you all have different ways of feeling spiritually satisfied, and alive; well then act on it, and actually live within it. I am healed spiritually, and will depend on my medication to do its part; but my soul will lead the way.

-haley.

@haleyann92

Song of the Week is Thirteen by Big Star. My heart just needs to process it. Check it out under the tab!

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War, and Ebola, and Evil, Oh My!

Oh, this is a season known for such beauty, and in contrast, the fright. It’s not uncommon to be terrorized this time of year, and most people seek out those experiences. However, when the terror leaks into the light and confuses itself with reality, we reach a whole new level of terror that is almost unnerving.

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All I see on my Facebook, and hear around the office is somewhere along the lines of, “the teacher got arrested, this hurricane hit, blood moons, and ebola.” What about that is pleasing? What about that makes my heart happy? “It’s important to be involved in current events.” Except no, it’s really not, not anymore. I think its more important to track history, and be consistent with your learning and perception. But why sit in front of a screen that delivers the most awful things right into your mind? And people ask me why I don’t watch TV…

A few weeks ago, I got super worked up about the end of the world, the blood moons, ebola and just about everything else the news thought they needed to grace my news feed with. Thanks, Facebook peeps. You officially got into my head, and for a whole week I thought endlessly about how fucked up the world is. I barely slept (I was afraid the world might end in my sleep) and I couldn’t think straight. Some people call me a person affected with severe anxiety (which is true), but today when a parent called afraid her child might have ebola, who hasn’t been in contact with anyone, or any country of the sort, it seems I’m not the only one. We share articles on Facebook repeatedly over awful, negative things that are supposedly news and it’s really just self destructive. There is a difference in awareness raising (for example: Blackfish) versus ridiculous negativity. After hours, or days of reading, you evolve to a state of living in fear.

End it, and accept there is nothing you can do. Literally, there is nothing. That blood moon is going to happen whether you got a picture or not, and that group of terrorists is going to kill someone next. That disease will infect who comes in contact with it, and there is literally nothing you can do. Its horrible sounding I know, but its the most freeing thing you will hear despite what you keep reading on news channels, and Facebook. What is the point of bottling up every thought, and action you want to have simply because the world might bite you on the ass? Its scary, but there is no point in living in fear. I guess if I get ebola (which I refuse to capitalize because it’s so horrible) but until or if that ever happens, I’m doing what I can to protect myself and I’m living life without fear. I can’t walk around all day with a rock in my stomach. You should take precautions but fear is never, and should never be one of them, despite what the media wants you to think.

Seriously, stop sprinkling that shit everywhere, and instead spread happiness, kindness, positivity because the world needs a whole lot of it at this point. So, I hope you lovelies enjoy your Halloween week getting scared from awesome things like The Shining, or freaky costumes versus things you have no control over. Enjoy, and live your life.

-haley.