Two days after I accepted a position teaching on an emergency certificate at Henry County Middle School in northern, central Kentucky, I received a call for a job offer as an editor and reporter for the Flemingsburg newspaper.  I had put in my resume with the career center at Morehead State University where I had graduated just a few weeks before with my Bachelor's in English and Creative Writing.  Both of these offers came from that.  When I turned down the newspaper offer, my heart sank.  I had taken the teaching position because I felt like I had to.  How could I turn down $25,000 a year?  It was more money than we had ever seen.  I might not get any other job leads.  Working at Big Lots furniture department couldn't last forever.  Yet, I had never seen myself as a school teacher.  I come from a family that have devoted their life to education.  I was confident I could do the work, but I didn't really want to from my heart's standpoint.  So, when I told the newspaper I was already employed, I could have cried.  Patience and trust in Universe is a hard lesson to learn.

Teaching middle school taught me a lot of important things.  I also have a $35,000 Master's Degree in Teaching that I'll be paying for the rest of my life.  I won't ever go back to teaching in public education unless it is at the college level.  I could have taken the newspaper job, potentially been happier, and in a lot less debt now.  Hindsight.  It must have not been for me to do right then.

I hadn't planned on being a mother either.  I've written about that before.  Everyone was shocked when I changed my mind and began trying to get pregnant.  When I finally did give birth, I didn't go back to teaching.  I had always thought that if I had children at least one parent should stay home to raise them.  I had always felt like motherhood was a thing only those who are ready to sacrifice everything to be a deeply devoted nurturer should embark upon.  I thought that, for me, it would have to look a very particular way in order to work.  I knew me.  Why have children if you have to pay someone else to raise them?  I've held so many strong ideas as golden.  It's a beautiful thing how life teaches us even when we are mule-headed.

That same little girl was always more at peace outside of a child's world.  I didn't play much with toys, choosing books, chemistry sets, long hikes, and arts/crafts instead.  I wanted to hang around the adult table and listen to their stories and talk.  As a mother, I have been present and attentive, but not the mother who sits in the floor and plays for hours with toys or watches many cartoons.  I'm still the me I have always been.  I'm a good mother just as I am.  I have a good relationship with my children.  They know I love them and find my lap home.  They know my words, my food, my stories, and my songs.  My lap and arms will always been their home.  

I still ascribe to the dream of homesteading, homeschooling, and living off the land.  It just isn't doable with small children as a solo project.  So, my plans have had to adjust.  There are so many ways a good life can look.  There are countless forms of good parents.  Each of us are unique and important.  I have to be open to all the possibilities.  I have to be willing to learn and change my ideas based on experience and new information.  I have to see myself and my fulfillment as an important piece of what it takes to be a good mother and a good example of what a woman can do in her life for my daughters.  I am me and I am their mother.  That is fact.

What I also am is a capable, literate, educated, backwoods, mystical, yogi, mountain woman who loves to read, have long and meaningful conversations, philosophize, study the people of the world, and to listen and share stories.  I have a contribution to make and the opportunity to do it with a great group of people in a place dedicated to making sure the stories never die.  Taking this job sets our family on a new path.  I am having to change everything about our life, and that is a little scary.  It is the right decision though.  I am making it from a place of hope and I will not feel failure or guilt for making it.  It is a decision I am making as my heart has opened, come to understand, and forgiven my own mother.  It is a decision I am making in honor of my paternal grandmother who was a proud working mother and reminded me not to martyr myself for an ideal that was not manifesting.  This decision holds in memory my maternal grandmother from whom I first learned the feeling of nurture and who was a single working mother of three.  She was also a working grandmother who provided a roof for many years for five adults and three grandchildren.  They all were good mothers.  They all loved their children and did their best.  That is all we can do.  Give it our all and move forward from a place of love.

​I start full time next week.  I have a lot to do to prepare.  There's a great deal to be excited about.  My efforts will allow us to begin the process of coming off of welfare, get a more reliable vehicle, find a home that has more space for our daughters to come into their own, travel more, not have to worry as much about money, and provide a well rounded education for the girls.   I need to celebrate.

What makes it incredibly hard to give it my best shot is that because the thyroid gland is essential to producing so many other hormones that regulate my body functions and moods, when I am having a flare up, it can feel as if I'm completely losing control of my mind and body.  Dealing with this disease is the hardest thing I have ever done.  Harder than a 34 hour natural labor.  Harder than saying good-bye to friends and family who pass on.  Harder than running to the top of a steep hill 10 times fast with no break.  You get the point.  It's difficult.  Honestly, I don't want to do it anymore.  I know it is an endless battle.

The thing is, I have to fight.  I have things to do.  This disease is something that I've been given, it is part of who I am, and who I will become.  It doesn't have to be all bad.  Sure, I just outed myself as someone who might display signs of mental illness.  Is that the smartest thing in the world?  I'm not ashamed.  Many of us live with illnesses, mental or otherwise, that to folks we encounter everyday are invisible.  We seem fine.  We are hard workers.  We get things done.  We are driven.  We seem in touch.  The fact is, that we may be all of these things because everyday is a new struggle and we know that if we don't do it, we won't.  There's no in between. 

I don't think any of us who share about a chronic invisible illness are expecting condolences or accolades.  It doesn't mean we are heroes for going on with life.  It doesn't mean we need sympathy because our lives are over and we'll never see our dreams come alive.  No, we share because we inspire one another to reach just a little higher.  We help each other gather the information we need to take charge of our health.  And, we want everyone to know that if we can do it, so can you.  All we have is now.  If we can make changes that will help us live our lives more fully and experience our bodies in a greater sense of freedom, why wait?  No matter how challenging it is to change, why wait?  Now, is the time when we can work.  One step at a time.

This week I have driven my friends batty with my looping thoughts and stress.  I left my beloved yoga mat at the front desk of the recreation center right within my eyesight.  I forgot to grab my phone on a day when it was really important that I stay connected.  Yesterday, I went about the day without taking my supplements, my heart medication, or my anxiety medication.  I didn't realize it until I was overtaken by heart palpitations and feelings like I was surrounded by a strange glass box.  When I'm having a flare up of the disease, it is like all my thoughts are in a fog.  I get stuck on a topic with worry and I cannot shake it.  It's as if I'm in a never-ending state of multitasking.  This doesn't even begin to address the physical symptoms.  It all can be embarrassing sometimes.

I will never use Hashimoto's as an excuse for my behavior or my physical issues.  Yes, sometimes I may choose to share with someone that Hashimoto's is why I do certain things, or sometimes don't seem myself.  It's not an excuse though.  It's a reason.  It's a reason to take better care of myself.  It's a reason to deepen my spiritual connection.  A reason to listen more to my body.  A reason to be okay with a little comfortable discomfort in order to grow as a person and in strength.  This is my body.  It belongs to me.  There's no disease stronger than me.  The disease is just another teacher among many.

The man golfing above is my Papaw Hansel.  He passed away earlier this year of bone cancer.  My Uncle James is holding him up so he can take a swing and not fall.  This is the blood from which I come.  We don't lay in the bed until we have to.  We grab the bull by the horns as they say.  My last moment with my Papaw was my dad and I lifting him to adjust him in his bed.  He looked at me with those sly eyes and looked at my dad.  Dad said, "She's a brute ain't she, Papaw?"  He smiled.  He was proud of the strength in me.  I have always been one to want to please my elders.  Giving up isn't an option.

Yet, on days like today, when the sun is shining and the trees are calling, I just want to rest.  I want someone to hold me, tell me its okay, tell me I'm doing a good job, I'm a good person, and I can rest.  I want to breathe and feel.  I want to cry and laugh.  I want to be with those who accept me as I am and like me that way.  Today, I'm again alone.  Today, I'm going to my yoga mat with Warrior Workout and see what I can become for it's all I know to do.