The Roller Coaster

I’m not sure exactly what it was that stopped my blog.  I was so determined not to be that adoptive mom that spent a year gushing about her babies and asking for money to bring them home, only to disappear into thin air once they arrived.  Not that I judged my fellow adoptive mamas who went through similar things.  Adoption is all-consuming – especially after the plane lands.  No one can possibly fathom what their new normal will be like, let alone if they will have time to take several hours out of their week keeping the world updated on their precious new additions.

I knew it was a struggle for a lot of people to keep up their adoption blogs, but I was different.  I blogged before the adoption.  I’ve been blogging since our first year of marriage.  Blogging wasn’t just an adoption necessity for me; it’s what I did!  So, naturally, I’d be able to keep up with it after we were home.  And maybe the real failure (as I see it) isn’t that I didn’t have time to blog.  Sure there have been periods of a few months where there literally was no time or no computer.  But it’s been three years now, and there have been plenty of times in between for blogging and updating.  So why not?  Why have I not continued?

There are so many reasons, between needing to not expend unnecessary emotional energy to just not being able to face my abandoned blog that I used to pour so much of myself into, to not knowing what to say in some of our really dark days.  But I think the reason that stands out the most to me (as I sit here not being able to remember how to even log into my blog admin account) is that our life is such a roller coaster and I didn’t know how to honestly take all of you on that roller coaster with me.

Some roller coasters were less serious, like “Hey, Hope is sleeping so well now!” To… “Oh nevermind, we aren’t getting sleep anymore.”  And some were more serious, like our constant progress and regression with Jacob’s attachment and behaviors or the myriad of diets and supplements I’ve tried in attempting to manage my Hashimoto’s.  There was a time where I have been able to fit on a single sheet of paper a list of every single food I could eat, because I had restricted my diet so severely in trying to feel perfectly well.  Other months I haven’t been attempting any basic vitamin protocols or healthy eating habits because I just can’t cope with any of it anymore.

How do I explain to my readers that yes I’m on the GAPS diet, no I’m not doing that anymore, well now I’m just going to do the Whole30 again, maybe I’ll add the AIP protocol too, and oh I found some more food sensitivities… well, no I’m not even trying anymore.  It’s frustrating enough to live that reality without actually having to broadcast it.  From some recent reading, I think I’m probably not alone in this up and down autoimmunity journey.  Healing hasn’t been straightforward or simple, and when I think I’ve found the magic formula for wellness I end up being disappointed, frustrated and exhausted from the work I’ve put into it.  And so I stop trying, but the next bad wave of sickness comes and the guilt seems to push me into trying something, anything, to fix it.

The same has been true with our children.  Things get better for a while, and then they get worse.  Homeschool goes, and then it doesn’t.  Nothing in my life is consistent or even has a noticeable upward progression.  I’m sure Jacob and Hope have made progress.  I’m sure they have.  But I can’t see it.  I am told by everyone how much potential they have, and I believe it, but there’s that nagging feeling that neither of them will ever reach that potential because I can’t seem to unlock it.  How do you explain that to people?  “Oh yes, the potential is there, but it won’t amount to anything.”  Most times honesty just isn’t an option, because people won’t understand or refuse to believe it if you told them.  And trust me, I’ve tried.

Everyone will tell you that special needs parenting is isolating.  Having a chronic illness is isolating.  Being a pastor’s wife is isolating.  If there’s one thing that I apparently can do really consistently, it’s isolate myself.  My online community used to be my foundation of support, but it was draining me more than it was helping and I had to let go.  I got rid of Facebook, and I’ve been much happier.  I stopped blogging because I couldn’t handle sharing the repeated success/failure/success/failure, up and down insanity that is our life.

When Jacob and Hope came home I stopped reading “normal” family blogs.  I could not relate to my friends anymore with typical children, their joys and struggles are just as real as mine, but they became so foreign to me.  I remember once feeling the way they describe, but I knew that I’d never live that life again.  And after a while even the adoption blogs and the special needs blogs stopped being encouraging.  Our struggles don’t seem to fit into anyone else’s box.  I try looking for help on the “moms with chronic illness” corner of the web, but they don’t understand all the other pieces of our puzzle either.

In real life it’s the same.  No one gets all of our puzzle pieces.  We are the only ones who can make our life work, and it’s hard to find anyone who can even help because they don’t know how the pieces fit together.  Our life is complicated and delicate and in a constant state of flux.

Speaking of which, we are expecting again.  Baby #6 is on the way, and as excited as I am about that, the fatigue and morning sickness, not to mention my other chronic illness symptoms are a new source of guilt and frustration.  I’m back to incapacitated most days, and it’s a hard pill to swallow.  I’m watching little successes, habits and routines I’ve spent months building just slip away again.  And there isn’t anything I can do to stop it.

I don’t want to just sit here and vent, because especially lately, I’ve been able to see just how much I have.  I’ve been doing a lot less taking for granted and a lot more of being thankful for what we can do as a family.  Maybe that’s why I was able to muster the courage to write this post.  We aren’t in the dark days of transition that we were in right after the kids came home or during Hope’s hospital stays.  Things are much better now.  I am way more functional than I was just prior to receiving my diagnosis.  We have five beautiful children and one on the way, and our marriage is rock solid.  We have all the things we need and many of the things we want.

Things are well.  But well just looks so different for us, and it is fluid.  I don’t know how to convey our family’s story in a way that doesn’t make people just shake their heads and wonder why we seem to be stuck on repeat.  Perhaps I’ll figure it out and come back to my long lost blog, and writing to you delightful people, which is something I really did used to love.

Comments

  1. Know that even if you don’g blog, don’t post on fb.. etc. You and your family is and literally always will be in my prayers. (ps.. this is Noelle – not that you remember.. but it is me..lol – Fellow chronic illness warrior here)

    • dalas.mueller@gmail.com says:

      Hi Noelle!! Of course I remember you! Thank you so much for your prayers, they mean the world to us! <3

  2. <3

  3. The thing I love most about your blog is how honest you are in it. What you see as struggles, your readers see as prayer opportunities. God bless you and your growing family as you face every day’s challenge.

  4. Elizabeth Caulkins says:

    I have chronic pain and fatigue so I get all the trying new things, get discouraged and repeat. You are among friends! Congrats on baby #6!! So excited for you guys! I admire and love you and your fam from afar and look at you as one of the strongest women, and set of parents, I know. Just stay in the fight called life and look for all the silver linings. I always appreciate your rawness.

    • dalas.mueller@gmail.com says:

      Thank you Elizabeth. Ya’ll are making me cry with all these comments and my pregnancy hormones! Definitely important to look for the silver linings and to stay positive. Hard, but important!

  5. Congratulations! It’s good to hear from you and I’m glad to hear you’re able to manage your illness a bit better, even though it’s with ups and downs. I have a lot of respect for how you live your life. Honestly, I don’t think anyone has it all together. We have a little one with (in comparison to your kiddos) a small special need and even that has us on a rollercoaster, so I can’t even imagine how intense your life must be! Keep up the good work, we’re praying for you!

  6. I used to help with moderating an online blog portal and head honcho used to remind me that “real life trumps blogging”.

    It’s good advice for me these days as I deal with my marriage ending, working on a degree, special needs parenting, fibromyalgia, and everything else. Life happens and circumstances change.

    You do you. If that means you blog something one week and it isn’t true the next, that’s your reality and you can blog it.

    • dalas.mueller@gmail.com says:

      Thanks for the encouragement Jen, and I’m so sorry to hear about your marriage!

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