ER Trip

I know, I know, I’m getting tired of these ER trips as well, but yesterday, March 25th, that’s where I ended up again after I was woken up at 4 am with severe pelvic pain.

An hour and a half later we were in the ER where the seizure medication I was given intravenously helped me regain my speech (slurped speak, among other symptoms- if interested the home page has the details) and visual focus.

I’m extremely grateful I’m alive and we keep on going with all the good, bad, and everything in between. Chet was amazing, yet again, through the whole ordeal, since I couldn’t talk really well and mostly out of it.  I pray that God will give him health and strength forever. My son Merrill, who was visiting us came along as well, and I hope he wasn’t too freaked out seeing his mother seizing like that. But he’s a strong young man and I’m so very grateful to God for my entire family. People are what matters in this world, not material things. People.

God Bless.

 

44 Years Old:)

Today I’m 44 years old and couldn’t be happier:)

I’ve received so many beautiful words from all of you, words that have moved my heart to a very happy state and I thank God for all of you in my life. Life is good:) I smile, I feel well today, I am getting stronger and healthier every day:)

Happy B-day to everyone else born on March 14th, like my niece Carmen and Pastor Hada:)

What a wonderful day today is:) Thank you God:)

God Bless:)

Our small gang:)

I’m sorry, it has been a while since my last post. IMG_0397I have been quite involved with life in a fantastically good way.

First of all, my book is going to come out in the Romanian version soon, and I have been working with couple printing and distribution companies back home. We’ve summited the cover page just last week, designed by Chet and Meleah, and its due to come out on the market back in Romania in the coming weeks. I’ll put a link on the blog once I have one to share with you, for those who read Romanian and would love to purchase a copy:)

Yesterday I finished my 24-hour CE (Continual education) required for renewing my massage therapist license and I want to do more research into the wonderful sources and discoveries linking the autoimmune and trauma to illness and chronic illness.

I’m working on my second novel, a true story of my brother Sergiu’s life and his road to a better life.

Today, my friends came over to visit and wish me an early Happy B-day:) The fact that we were, once again, around the table, eating and chatting about our lives was fantastic. Gosh, I’ve missed them and our times together. There’s nothing more beautiful than good friends around a table full of good food, good conversation, and love.

Yes, Nicole, I am writing from my corner desk in my bedroom with the nice view of the park on one side and the trees on the other side, and its a wonderful privilege I’ve dreamed of since I was 8 years old.

May life be full of good friends, good conversations, and good food on our tables. But when it’s not -those stages of life no one dreams of going through- may you and I hold on to the great memories built throughout the good times.

Now go make good memories, laugh harder and surround yourself with as much love as you can possibly handle, and if you’re at a stage in life where true love is a figment of your imagination and reality sucks, hold on to the hope that one day it will change, but don’t forget to be grateful for it when it does change.

God Bless.

 

Protest

Last weekend the annual women’s protest happened again and besides hatred towards the current president and the right to abort an unborn baby, I’m not quite sure what else are they protesting for, because the last time I checked we still lived in America where women have far more rights than most women combined in other parts of this world.

Personally, the vaginal hats and F*** signs are extremely insulting to me, but don’t worry that does not define me as a woman; my children do, my husband does and other things that have nothing to do with profanity and genital hats.

I’ll tell you a story- my story.

I was born with few health issues.

For one thing, my reproductive organs did not fall into place as they should’ve and my mother was told I would not be able to have children.

My Fontanella (the soft spot between the parietal bones and frontal bone) was bulged out- the doctor said I was going to be a retard or an idiot, in other words neurologically I was going to be slower than the norm. The Fontanella it looked and felt like jello and my mother hardly touched me for the first few months after birth for fear of hurting me further. So I lacked the bonding time, very important and necessary to a healthy development, but life was different back then and information was lacking.

I also had a severe vitamin D deficiency and I began having regular shots of vitamin D right away that lasted a whole year. These were among the issues that were visible right away and the doctor pressured my mother to have me aborted after I was born, worried that my quality of life would be a burden to the medical system and Marxist society in which I was born. I was a defect product and needed to be discarded so I would not become a useless eater. My mother vehemently refused.

“God’s will be done.” She tolled herself accepting the outcome, but if I wasn’t going to recover I was in danger of a “vaccine shot” that was nothing short of a euthanize method. I did recover.

At home, I grew up in pretty harsh poverty, mostly between the age of 5-19. We went many days in “involuntarily fasting” whether we liked it or not, but for that now some of us are rounder than we’d like to be:) God, yes God, took care of us. That is what I choose to believe, despite the skepticism of others.

We also went through physical and emotional trauma, abuse and at times torture methods until the day each and every one of us left home. Emotionally, if we give way the emotional abuse would continue to this very moment, but all of us have chosen peace, so we have departed from the source of the abuse.

So from many people’s modern standards of today, I should’ve been aborted. After all I had too many physical issues putting a burden on the family or society, I was born in extreme poverty (Eastern Europe poverty), and raised in a very abusive family environment. I fit most of the reasons given for an abortion, right?

Yet, I’m thankful for every day on this earth despite its hardships. I thank God every day for his love towards me shown mostly through other people, some of which are reading these words. We see the goodness in others. We see hate in others as well. So choose. I’ve chosen. I stand for life.

I do not judge anyone who had an abortion- I wasn’t in your shoes when you made the decision and it’s not my place to judge what I don’t know. But I do know the fetus is a living being and I’ve always fought for the underdog. Its just part of my character and I will continue to do so.

God Bless.

 

Protest

Saptamina trecuta a avut loc in America Protestul Anual al Femeilor, si inafara urii adresata impotriva presedintelui prezent in putere si rivna dupa dreptului de a avorta, nu prea inteleg ce tot protesteaza- vor egalitate, dar in America femeile au toate drepturile egale ca si cele a barbatilor, nu ca femeile din partea Arabica a planetei, China, Africa, Europa de Est, India, si alte tari.

 

Va spun o poveste- e a mea.

Cind m-am nascut am avut ceva probleme fizice de sanate si doctorul a dat de subinteles ca nu voi putea avea copii deoarece organele mele de reproducere nu erau cazute la locul potrivit. Fontenela (partea moale a capului) iesea afara intre cele doua oase (parietale) si era foarte transparenta, doctorul a spus ca voi fi idioata (adica cu probleme psihice sau fara o dezvoltare completa a potentialului creierului). Mama nici nu ma lua in brate in primele luni si ma misca foarte putin ca sa nu-mi faca rau, pina la urma usor, usor sa retras dar am suferit in primele luni de atingere fizica. Vitamina D era, de-asemenea imi era redusa in corp si am facut injectii de vit. D regular de la citeva saptamini de viata timp de un an. Ca atare doctorul a sugerat avort dupa nastere. Mama a refuzat categoric, spunindu-si in sine “Faca-se voia lui Dumnezeu.”

Da am intrat in lume cu probleme si votul de a fi ucisa datorita acestor probleme, dar cind ai credinta in Dumnezeu speranta unui miracol este fantastic de puternica.

Am crescut intr-un mediu destul de saracacios, si am dus greva foamei involuntar multe zile, atit eu cit si fratii si surorile mele si pentru asta multumim lui Dumnezeu ca sunte-m bine si prea rotunzi acuma de atita mincare:))) si cu dragostea lui Dumnezeu in suflet. Am fost raniti fizic, agresa-ti si tortura-ti atat fizic cit si emotional, acest abuz a continuat pina am plecat de acasa, fiecare cind a putut, si pentru asta nu folosim acest motiv sa ranim pe altii si nu dorim sa fi fost avortati. Am avut toti cei 12 frati si surori zile negre pe acest pamint, dar… am avut foarte momente pline de o dragoste infinita din partea lui Dumenzeu, atat direct dar de multe ori prin altii (ca de exemplu prin unii care citesc aceste rinduri), sau chiar si prin straini. Dumnezeu ne alina sufletul cind avem nevoie de alinare, si desi inca avem cicatrice sau rani deschise datorita trecutului avem si multa tarie pusa in noi de Dumenzeu. Viata care mi-a dat-o Dumnezeu este plina de momentele fermecatoare a dragostei lui Dumenzeu si a dragostei oamenilor prin care characterul lui Dumenzeu se manifesteaza zilnic.

Nu condamn de loc pe cei care au avut avort- departe de mine acest gind- pentru ca nu am fost in situatia lor cind au facut aceasta decizie, dar stiu ca Dumenzeu iubeste pe toti si iarta profund si non-stop. Dar sint un exemplu al unui caz care in ochii lumii sansele mele ar fi fost mai bune daca as fi fost avortata… nu stiu ce sa zic decit, voi ce crede-ti?

Doamne din tot sufletul iti multumesc de fiecare zi pe acest pamant, ca are mare pret orice secunda:)

Dumnezeu sa va aline durerea azi si-n fiecare zi. Amin.

 

Red-A Philosophical self-talk-

I’ve begun reading “The Naked Communist” by W. Cleon Skousen and it’s not an easy task for me as flashbacks from my own experience while living through the last of the communist era, back in Romania, rise up.

I’ll let you know in my up and coming posts some similarities that I see in the America of today and communist tactics I’ve experienced while back home. This is a subject that I would love to capture it with my brother Alin’s philosophical point of view and have a recorded debate on the matter. It would be both entertaining and informative… and done in our native Romanian language. But not yet.

Today, after bleeding for the past 27th days, and clearly a little lightheaded from losing so much blood, I become philosophical:) (I have an appointment tomorrow with gynecology.)

I was truly hoping 2018 to be void of doctors, pain, pocking, needles and medical stress, thus hid the bleeding issue for as long as I could. Thanks to Elizabeth I did end up going to a Zoom clinic and thanks to my mother-in-law’s insistence I finally made a gynecology appointment. I must admit I struggle emotionally. I’m fighting with a Marxist syndrome, a disease in itself, and trying to grasp a truth as seen through my husband’s eyes, a reality built on being born here in America. I like his view so much better than mine, but in reality, it seems to be just a beautiful fairy-tale I like to listen to often. I have changed quite a bit living here in America, for the better I think, but when disease keeps on knocking at the doors of my soul, the old Marxism rises up debating loudly while trying to win.

When one becomes sick and unable to provide for the motherland (this can be geographically anywhere the mind goes) a man’s value disappears, thus he is no longer needed, according to the communism/marxism laws. If you can’t produce you’re no more than a useless eater (Hitler, Communism movement, Margaret Sangers, Darwinism are the best known for this type of thinking). Raised in that type of thinking, I automatically think like that. Back in Romania, you can see this in divorces, affairs,  abuse, neglect, blame, and shame, after one becomes sick vs. here in America, where you see support systems, encouragement, and fighting until the end on behalf of a loved one. (This is a generalized point of view based on the majority of cases, for I have seen harsh consequences following the tragedy of loss or disease here in America as well).

“Oh well, at least they’ll not be a burden to the family now. The sooner they die the better. This is God’s judgment for your sins, your father’s sins, your children’s sins, etc.” Are some of the more normal expressions as a response to any disease in Eastern European culture. (Eastern Europe has migrated into other lands and that philosophy can very well follow.)

In America that differs: “What else can we do, doctor? You’ll get better. Focus on getting better. Don’t worry about the money, you’re more important,”  to name a few, not to mention all the “Go Fund Me” types of support.

To top it all off, I’m a woman, raised and tolled in my formative years to believe that I matter less than the life of a dog, born to please a man only and nothing else. Now here’s the tricky part, this belief was preached loudly from the churches pulpits, all done by males, not communism. In communism law (gender or age didn’t matter, you simply didn’t have value). In Romania, I was nothing else but a Christian woman (that’s not a compliment:) to be used and abused than tossed aside when no longer needed or able to perform my duties- at least that would’ve been my lot in life if I would’ve remained there. (Not all men are cruel, alcoholics or abusive in Romania, but most are). I know great Romanian men that are very decent and loving to their wives, their children and in general to everyone else around.

Now, don’t you worry about me, God’s helped me heal quite a lot from many of these issues, by providing proof of ignorance, instability, indoctrination, culture and a theory (Marxism) based on violence and narcissism (read about Marx’s own pathetic life, his example as a father and husband, and his inability to live up to his own theology). I’m healing, that’s why I can start talking about some truths without disintegrating and with a healthier perspective. Now let’s move on.

Its been only God’s presence and patience, working either directly in my heart or through people such as Chet, my parents-in-law, Elizabeth, my Romanian friends and so many other people I know,  that helped me heal. My siblings have been the biggest help, other than Chet. Chet wants to help but it takes someone who went through hell and back with you to understand the darkness you must heal from. I know I’m not the only one feeling this way. There are far too many that have seen an even greater darkness than I have.

In the days when I’m not feeling well it’s easier to fall into that autopilot old way of thinking, yet, those same days are the ones healing me and teaching me some of the best lessons about myself and life itself.

Why have I let the lies of others (religion, a devil, etc, call it anything you want) take such residence in my heart for so long? Guilt and ignorance of the truth.

I’m dying. (I’m being dramatic here) We all are. Some faster than others. But I’m the one who decides if I’m going to help the evil end my own existence with feelings of fear and hopelessness, or if I would much rather spend that time laughing alongside my loved ones.

When you really get this, life even at its hardest will be worth fighting for. It’s our life, given to us as a gift by God, so guard it and fight for it, it’s our right to it.

Well, like I said, the philosopher in me came out today:) Be happy with the simplicity of life, for a farmer is far happier with his life than a philosopher usually is.

And ultimately, I’ll keep on learning or unlearning, sharing with you parts of those lessons hopefully to help you heal faster and sooner, and be grateful for everything.

God Bless:)

 

Exercise and Autoimmune Disease

I’ve expressed in my last post of my desire to write more. Don’t you know by now that most New Year Resolutions are simply a “to do” list for the first week of January:)))))

I have been writing more, in fact, two hours a day on my new fiction adventure novel called “Finding Home”, but enough about that.

New Year brings out the “health nut” portion of ourselves, usually for a couple of weeks for most and a bit longer for others (unless your “health nut” person is out all the time having fun running, in that case, this may only be one of those easy reads for you). The “health nut” usually tends to go right back into hibernation for the better part of the year. It may have a few breaks now and again.  It will come out in full and temporary feverish mood, usually before summer for that amazing bikini look, or before a wedding when you want to look better than the bride herself.

I began my yoga exercise again, after a nice break of six months. Breaks are necessary too, especially when one fights an autoimmune disease. In fact, I must be going through something this very moment because I’m misspelling every single word as if my brain would rather sleep instead of think.

The yoga program I followed for more than ten years now is a Canadian based program called “Namaste” Yoga Practice by Kate Potter. It used to be a television program, maybe still is, but its the only exercise routine I stuck with all these years. I’m not a believer in the spiritual side of the yoga practice, I simply like its smooth moves and relaxing way of moving the body. I tried all sorts of other programs before this one, programs more rigorous, and found them downright annoying.

Anyone fighting Chronic Lyme, Cancer, MS, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Fibromyalgia to name only a few of the autoimmune diseases, does not have the energy most days to take a shower, or go up and down their own home’s stairs, let alone exercise. In most of these cases, any and all energy present in the body, it is wisely distributed towards activities such as doctor appointments, dinners, laundry, lunches for the kids and maybe sex with your spouse. However, when these diseases are in remission the fun begins. I remember celebrating the walk to my own mailbox, which progressed to being in the car when my husband drove to do the grocery shopping, to taking five, ten then twenty-minutes long walks, to playing tennis and now to driving small distances. Oh, the joy of stabbing one’s toe and crying happy tears because you actually felt that pain, where once used to be a tingling numbing spot.

Well now I’m stronger and I can do the complete 20-minute yoga program. I love the stretching part (although if you decide to start yoga don’t overstretch: it’s like the medication, you take a big dose and a Herx reaction is sure to follow, so build up to it slowly:), I love the smooth movements and the calming music (neuro damage is very often present in people who fight Lyme disease and overstimulating the senses is often very unpleasant, to say the least).

For all out there who are fighting these nasty diseases and live in pain why too much, if you can, yoga is a pleasant possibility of exercise. Mostly, I wish you the best of health so you can choose for yourself what type of exercise you want to do- no matter how strenuous.

Have a blessed new year full of hope and laughter, both are great medicine for the soul.

God Bless:)

 

 

La Multi Ani!

In noul an sa aveti parte de bucurii si multa sanatate, ca restul se fac de la sine:) Linga Dumnezeu sa stam, asta nu inseamna ca stim totul, ca nu vom avea greautati si ca nu vom avea intrebari fara raspunsuri. Dar alegem sa crede-m in ciuda faptului ca nu intelegem multe in viata asta. Doresc ca trecutul sa va invete anumite lucruri dar sa nu va tina prizonieri, doresc sa va bucura-ti de present si sa ave-ti speranta viitorului.

Unii din voi ati trecut anul acesta prin multe schimbari, altii sint in doliu, si altii asteapta bucuria unui nou nascut. Eu numai ce am iesit dintr-o criza, a venit fara anunt, cum de obicei vine necazul si a plecat repede dar nu a lasat frica in urma sau deznadejde. Cum am terminat, m-am gindit la voi:)

Vreau sa-mi cer iertare de la toti care poate pe parcusul anilor mei pe pamint pina in prezent, datorita imaturitatii, sau reactionind dintr-o inima ranita v-am suparat cu ceva sau v-am jignit cu ceva. Imi stiu inima, si in mare parte a fost fara intentie.

In noul an voi continua sa intreb intrebari, sa citesc si sa caut adevarul, nu cum o prezinta religia ci cum o prezinta Dumnezeu. Voi avea interbari, poate tot mai putine raspunsuri dar stiu clar ca voi avea multe experiente vrednice de trait si memorii pretioase de acumulat. Vreau ca in anul nou sa citesc si sa scriu mai mult, si sa continui sa ma bucur de momentele mici de zi cu zi ale vietii care in realitate sint foarte importante.

Fie ca Bunul Dumnezeu sa fie cu voi, in mijlocul vietii de zi cu zi, cu toate esecurile si victoriile noastre care impacheteaza characterul important al fiecarui individ.

La Multi Ani!!!!

Simona- my cousin

IMG_5317IMG_5316

First picture. Simona on her baptism day with a local friend.

Second picture.  Bunch of friends from the Baptist church Simona and her family attended on her older brother, Alin’s eighteenth B-day Party (not in the picture, in fact I do not have a picture of him). Simona and I are in the back, the two youngest kids there:)

In actuality, Simona is my third cousin on my mother’s side. Same as Mirela, but that’s another story for another time.

It was Simona’s father, Ionel, who enticed my parents to move all the way from Moldova to Transylvania, more precisely to the young city of Hunedoara, where a new steel factory just got built and jobs were “falling from the skies” so to speak. Moldova’s economy was in ruin, not sure if much of that changed today, and most of the young people migrated south, west and east all over the country, where jobs were easier to come by. Sergiu was the first-born in Hunedoara, (Alin and I were born in Botosani). My young parents moved to Hunedoara in 1976 and left that town only recently, moving closer to their remaining children in Romania. The move was unexpected and sudden due to my mother’s declining health.

Unlike me, Simona grew up in a much smaller family. Her only sibling was an older brother, Alin. The age and gender gap forced a lonely Simona childhood on Simona. However, during her adolescence that loneliness was well-balanced with a very active social life in the local Baptist church she attended. There she began her singing career and her lovely voice is also passed down to her one and only daughter.

Both her parents worked which it simply meant a better financial life, overshadowed by the high pressures for academic success. My parents never seemed to have time or interest about our academic success and we surprised ourselves how well we still did in spite of that. Simona’s parents on the other hand were hands on, diligent and persistent. Learning English was one of those academic demands and I was very glad she learned the foreign language, especially after I met Chet. I would take my letters and run all the way to her apartment eager to find out what Chet wrote to me. After words, with a  dreamy expression on our faces, we would lie down on her sofa or sit outside on her enclosed balcony wondering what a married life had to offer to our livers or how different American life was from ours. I would soon found out about both. I knew I was blessed with Chet in my life, and I saw the longing in many of my female friends but I couldn’t do anything about it except share pieces of this unique experience with some of them. Simona and I sure shared some nice times together:) Younger by a couple of year we hung out with each other only when we were allowed by our parents. I had a couple rare and precious sleep overs at her apartment and I loved the quietness, the books she had and the board games we played. Also the food, hmm, she always had good food:)

My first “majorat” as it is called in Romanian, which stands for turning eighteen, the age when you’re considered an adult in Europe, meaning you can drink (which we did not do) it was for Alin, Simona’s older brother-second picture. I was young both in age and mind, naive and gullible. In fact, Simona and I were the youngest two out of everyone there and tried hard to fit in and play along the fun games that were totally foreign to me. I lost a lot and tried to keep up a brave facade but I had a wonderful time that evening. The Christian parties of that time were very safe and had such an innocence to the whole experience, something I appreciated both then and later on in life.

Well, my little cuz (short for cousin) was a fresh breath of air for me, and I do remember one of my best friends having a crush on her, something that brought a touch of jealousy in my heart at the time:)))))

While in a three-day fever unconscious state, between the ages of 10-13 years old (can’t remember exactly), I do remember in one of my brief waking moments, Simona’s mother, miss Ghinuta, sitting with my mother by my bed side holding a bag of apples, apples she brought along for us. I always preferred fruits over deserts. I opened my eyes and they were talking to each other only to slip back into darkness for another twenty hours. Miss Ghinuta and her husband Ionel were always nice to me. Alin too, even though her liked to tease us any chance he got. At least his sense of humor was not dangerous and painful:)

Simona, if you read this, and I hope you will, I miss you and I look forward one day to see you and catch up on life:))))))

Thank you God for my cuz:)

Chet-Happy B-day:)

Meant to be a Jill (his mom though Chet was going to be a girl and both parents were very surprised when Chet turned out a boy:), Chet was born in a young family of three. His older brother, Mark, is his only other sibling.

As a young boy Chet was very cute and his sweet personality was a breath of fresh air. His childhood was a normal one, shadowed now and then by his older brother’s teasing episodes. From an early age, Chet became fascinated with comic books, motorcycles and drums. As a result he began played drums in 7th grade, worked and purchased his first motorcycle at the young age of thirteen and owned a few nice comings books which he read often, loosing himself in the fascinating world of superheroes.

As a teenager he was extremely shy when it came to his interaction with the opposite sex and kept busy with his small gang of friends; John Adams, Mike Swanzey and Jeff Reid, getting in a bit of mischievousness.

After high-school, Chet moved out of Kingston and lived with his grandfather, Charlie, in Seattle. He had a series of odd jobs, some lasting only two weeks. At the age of nineteen Chet became a believer and wanting to be prepared for the mission field, in case he felt a calling in that direction, he moved to Bremerton where he began working in construction for couple of years. Not cut out for construction work, Chet moved back in with his parents, worked for Puget Sound and continued his collage night classes education. During this time he saved a good amount of money intent on going into the aviation school then career, but the start of the Golf War in 1990 put a stop to that dream.

His brother, Mark, who just graduated from film and video college pulled him into a new direction- a career in film and video production. Together they began a small business, that took a while to get off the ground.

In 1993, Chet got on a plane to Romania as a videographer of a local missionary team from Bainbridge Island leaded by John Stabb and met me, Carmen:) Six months later he returned to Romania, we got married and came back to America in October of the same year. Together, we had three children: Merrill, Meleah and Alex. Chet had a few jobs but slowly prospered in his film and video field, specializing in video editing. Today he works full-time at Amazon as a video editor and he absolutely loves it.

As a family man he moved around quite a bit, and settled in Seattle for the time being.

As a father, Chet is fantastic. His patience and common sense have been a God sent blessing and he absolutely loves spending time with his children.

As a husband Chet is the best. His patience and understanding helped me get over some part trauma, something I’m sure wasn’t easy on him at times but Chet was committed from the moment he said “I do.” He still owns comic books, a motorcycle and loves playing drums (even if not as often as he would like) and we have a great life together. To me Chet was absolutely God sent and I love spending my life along-side him. I absolutely love his dimples when he smiles:)

Today, is Chet’s B-day!!!!! Happy B-day my love and I wish you all the happiness in the world. The other emotions are more private and meant only for him;)

Thank you God for blessing this world with such a great man like Chet McKnight, and I know I speak for my kids and all the people that know him when I say: Chet’s a really great guy:)