Because I Need to Be Here Again

**I haven't posted in so long because I've allowed myself to be intimated. I hate that feeling of powerlessness, and so I will come back and post again, if only to scratch the surface of my blog once more and find the groove of the habit I turned from when I was confronted about the things I write about. 

Yesterday I went back to Old Rag Mountain to hike. I love hiking. I love being in the woods and the mountains, and the sounds and smells and hard work feeds my soul. Old Rag is a really challenging hike. My friend Susan and I finished at 13.5 miles round trip. Not a single mile is flat. It's a half marathon up and down a mountain. About two miles of the hike is hand over hand rock climbing and rock scramble. It's tough, strenuous, and the summit gives you some of the best views in the entire state of VA. My sweet friend Susan was a rock star. She's a gorgeous southern belle with the tenacity of a mountain lion. She has MS and lupus, but almost never shares that with anyone. She never wants anyone to count her out, or give her pity. She's beautiful and strong and wise. I adore her to the moon and back. She's ten years older than me and has been through hell and back, but you'd never know it. Her beauty isn't only on the outside but pours out of her heart. I was thrilled she agreed to go with me. She rocked the trek. We talked several times about how the hike was a parallel to life. We spend miles and hours going up the mountain with tree cover over head and treacherous rocks at our feet. We have our heads down not because we want to miss the incredible beauty around us but because it is necessary to keep ourselves safe.

The rocks and twists and turns on this hike can injure very quickly and with no cell phone signal and miles from ranger help, it's imperative to be careful on the trails. But after you're almost ready to lie down and sleep from the sheer effort given, the trees part and you make it to the summit. You are literally in the clouds looking over the valley. The sun warms the rock face, and hawks circle the peak. It's incredible. It's so like life- we work so hard not knowing if the end will be worth it and yet somehow it always is.

We had several run ins with black bears. That was one of the most surreal moments of my life. We had been warned by a friend of hers to carry mace or bear spray but I shrugged it off. I had never seen any bears on that hike before, and naively thought the presence of humans would deter close encounters. I was so very wrong. We saw a mama bear and her cub, and later another cub on the trail ahead of us- knowing mama must not be far off. The adrenaline rush was overwhelming. The trails on this mountain don't allow for running, and the reality of no cell signal means any injury or attack leaves assistance several hours away. It was a bizarre cross between wanting to stand and watch the incredible creatures and the heavy awareness that both of us are single mothers of four children and having our faces ripped off by an angry mama bear would be a disaster for our families. I felt alive and terrified all at the same time.
The incredible thing about a hike of that magnitude is that all of life's problems and frustrations melt into the vastness of the mountain. I suddenly feel insignificant and fragile, and closer to God who designed each animal, rock, and plant. The older I get, the more I discover who I truly am, and dirt and nature invigorate me to no end. I'm thankful I have a new hiking buddy. I've waited years for someone who wants to be outside like I do and climbing those boulders with her was a slice of heaven on earth.
I can't wait for our next adventure- this time with bear spray on hand.

Painful Lesson Learned

The saga with my face, and jaw, and mouth continues.  I wasn't getting any better with the steroids my doctor prescribed, and as I sat in a long business meeting last week, one of the women noticed I was struggling. I gave her the brief explanation of what was happening and she gasped with recognition.  She had experienced the same pain last year and wound up with broken teeth- she suggested I see my dentist.
When I woke up the next morning with yet another debilitating headache and horrendous pain in my face, I called my beloved dentist.  She was able to see me before the weekend.  She took x-rays and examined my mouth closely and then told me she had bad news:
I needed a root canal and had an abscess.  As she looked back and forth between my face and the black and white outline of the inside of my head she shook her head.  'Heather, having an abscess is horrible pain.  Living with chronic pain like this, even just for a couple of weeks, can cause depression and really mess you up!'
I began to cry. Her affirmation of my pain and the struggle it was beginning to create for me emotionally was comforting.  I had felt dismissed by my doctor and had left his office in horrendous pain but yet feeling like a baby.  She concluded that I needed antibiotics and pain medication.  My next stop would be to see the endodontist to retreat the tooth that is so horribly infected.

Once I began to think of the problem as dental instead of purely stress related, I had prepared myself for her news of a needed root canal. I had been told more than 8 years ago when I was pregnant with my third child that that tooth needed to be retreated.  It was a tooth that had already been treated through a root canal, and it had been crowned. I chose to wait for treatment.  I wasn't in any pain at the time, I was pregnant with my third child, still nursing my second child, and didn't want to take the time, spend the money, or have to worry about healing.  I put it off. Life kept happening and I never quite got to it.  In the years since, I've had dentists tell me it needed to be done- my current dentist has told me within the last five years that I need to do it, but I didn't want to spend the money, and I wasn't in pain, and so I never made time.
Putting it off brought me to today.  I am paying for my procrastination with copious amounts of pain, and now a hefty sum of money.

I went through the weekend but by Sunday, the pain hadn't lessened by much and I was starting to swell.  I called my dentist who told me that none of that was normal and I needed to head in to the ER.  In the ER, I was given more pain medication to prepare myself for the doctor to slice open the huge pocket of infection that was now bulging into my mouth and drain it.  She told me the relief would be great, but the actual draining was, in her words, 'going to be awful'.  I got through the lancing of the gums, and my friend drove me home to rest.  I now await my appointment to be evaluated by the endodontist on Friday and then the root canal through the crown sometime next week.  The receptionist called me earlier this week to let me know that my insurance won't cover one cent of the procedure.
Putting it off has cost me dearly in so many ways.
I could take time to write here about how putting off self care is never a good idea, and can wind up costing you more than just a bit of inconvenience.  However, I'm sure you get my point.  I'm learning more and more as I move through life as a single mother just how important it is to make time to take care of me.  I don't have much time or money to do much, but I'm learning that the better I feel, the stronger I am- in every way, from physical to emotional… the better mother I can be.
One of my dearest friends has two busy teenage daughters but she works intentionally to take good care of herself- she's aware that her girls are watching, and they will absorb far more by watching than by hearing.  She looks wonderful and creates time each day to care for herself. She nourishes her body and her heart and sees the incredible value in it.  She's a giving, generous, loving, happy, and beautiful woman.  The time she makes to care for herself spills over into others as she's better able to love well and give wholeheartedly.

I'm still learning. It's so easy for women to nurture others often at the expense of ourselves, but in doing that we deplete ourselves of the pure, and strong care we could be offering.  I have far to go, but I don't want to relearn this lesson in another hard, expensive way.  I get the message and will be more proactive in the future.