Category Archives: Perseverance

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Breaking Down Barriers

We try to push our children to try to new things and so in order to walk our talk, I try to push myself to try new things as well.

Several months ago, a contact of mine with the NC Epilepsy Foundation asked if I would participate with a new small group she was forming. This would be an experimental Art Therapy Group for people with epilepsy. Well…I am not an artist. She was prepared for that immediately and told me that wasn’t required. I don’t know many people locally with epilepsy and that has been one of the struggles for me. I figured why not, and I also figured I could bail on it by the time it all came to fruition anyway.

Several months later I got the official invitation to the program. Flashback, oh yeah, I did say I would do this. Seizure free for 7 months, I can drive now, though I had not driven on the interstate, and I certainly had not driven in Charlotte, so these were adventures I had yet to experience. Let me preface all of this by saying that in the time I received this email our oldest son was on his first international trip, without either parent. He was on a mission trip in Costa Rica with our church ministering to adults and children whom he had never met in an area that he knew nothing about. He was not afraid to try something new, to break down a barrier, so how could I be afraid of trying an art therapy class and driving down the interstate. Lame Mama…lame. No excuses here.

I needed to leave at 1:00pm so I started getting ready at 9:00am. How I ended up late leaving my house is beyond explanation. I stopped to get gas and pulled out my iphone to find the email with the address of the class. Yep, should have guessed this. I still can not find that darn email. After wasting 5 minutes searching for the email, I remembered the name of the building and asked Siri for directions and hit GO. Perfect, interstate was backed up. Worked for me, I had ZERO desire to go 65mph, my only issue was merging!

Don’t ask me where I was. I just followed Siri. Several times the roads were so close I was sure I was making the wrong turns and I waited for her to bark “recalculating” but she never did. There was a sweet gentleman behind me and he blinked his lights at me several times. I think it was his way of waving at me. Wasn’t that nice of him!?! For the life of me why does Charlotte have so many roads that change names? And how did we get anywhere before navigation? Anyway, I made it. Pulled in and knew I was at the right place when I saw all the purple ribbon magnets on cars. Similar to my running get-togethers where every car has 13.1 and 26.2 magnets, this gathering had a huddle of purple magnets on cars. Right place. Deep breaths.

I left my preconceived notions about this experience and my abilities, at the car and walked in the building. I have been working on meeting people, and being able to have conversations, since Target. My awesome therapist, Heather, who is probably reading this right now, started with that the day we met. It is a struggle almost everyday and it is the reason I force myself to do this type of thing…because I must break down barriers and push myself.

The class itself was good. It was the first of six, so it was only the beginning. To be honest, as hard as I tried I was still a bit shaken by the drive and I think I may have missed some of the intro. What scared me a little was that there was no instruction. We were just told to use pastels and draw what came from within. Say what? After a bit of sitting at blank white paper, by golly things starting flowing on the page. Even I didn’t think it was pretty. But one rule was no judging and no comments whatsoever on the drawing from anyone, so I was in the clear. The point was just to draw what came from within. It was really interesting! For a solid hour everything in my head was focused on that paper and nothing else. Enlightening! Really very enlightening! Afterward we took some time to write about our drawing. It was an interesting process and I am looking forward to seeing where it leads over the next five weeks.

I stepped outside into a bit of rain and it was 4:15. Splendid. Rush hour traffic coming, slick roads, I still didn’t know where I was and I had to get home. I hopped in the car and told Siri to take me home. As I was driving through Charlotte I noticed stop lights and I wondered if there had been stop lights on the way there. I didn’t remember them before. Still don’t. Wonder if I ran them all? At one of the stop lights I didn’t recognize the road at all, then I realized it was a one way street. Ah, well that was why I didn’t recognize that one. I’m so out of place in this city. I tried to be nice and let traffic in but I think it just made the people behind me mad. More honking and lights blinking…blah blah.

I finally hit a road I recognized, I-277. This is really not a relief at 4:40 on a Friday afternoon. I looked at my white knuckles on the steering wheel as I realized I was audibly saying “I will not fear, I will not fear, I will not fear” and then I broke into “damn-it I’m trying” as I saw cars annoyed with me trying to merge to get to I-77. I just wanted to get to I-77. I could have cared less if traffic was at a standstill. I was going to find a lane and stay there. Cars could blink, wave, honk, whatever, I decided I had made it to Charlotte, without an email for where I was supposed to be. I had been to an art class full of strangers. I had tried something completely new and different, and one way or another as long as it took, I was going to get home and I was not going to be afraid.

It was a long afternoon, emotionally. The hours were short, but I accomplished so much in those four hours. I proved to myself that I can break down the barriers when I put my mind to it. We all can. Our son did the same thing when he put his mind to breaking down barriers and going into a foreign land. I only went to Charlotte, it feels so lame when I say it, but for me it was a huge barrier, and on Friday I broke it down. I believe this Friday it will be a little bit easier.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, August 2014

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Finding It

I am allowing myself to count, or at least I am telling you I am counting. I can see the end of this trial. I am no longer counting in weeks but I am counting in days. We have had so many countdowns going on around here with the end of EOGs, EOCs, exams, school, leaving for camp, Montreat, Justin’s 16th birthday and when Mom can drive. It has been hard to keep up with which countdown we are discussing! One thing is certain, my quiet house is suddenly full of voices and that makes me so happy.

I have had a LOT of time to digest the changes to our lives that epilepsy and brain injury brought me. Some days felt like forever. Justin had to get up at 5:25 for school. Yes, it is insane. Then round two starts at 6:45. Then it is just the dogs and me until 3pm. For several months I couldn’t work out and honestly I just slept most of the day. I was so drugged up playing with so many medications I didn’t know which end was up waiting until July felt like eternity. Mom was sick, I couldn’t help her. I couldn’t even grasp how she was because I couldn’t get to her and I was angry. I hated being dependent on people every time I needed to go anywhere. I felt so much pressure to have my act completely together anytime I asked anyone for anything because I knew I was already inconveniencing someone and I didn’t want to be any extra trouble.

You do not know what real freedom is until you don’t have it anymore. Truly, there were days, 3 or 4 in a row where I did not leave the house. Sure I walked the dogs. But days that I did not get in the car, did not have the need to, as Emmer would say “put myself together” and get out. I know how she felt those last years when she was stuck in her room in healthcare and she didn’t know what day it was. Were it not for the kids coming home at 3pm the beds wouldn’t have been made and I probably wouldn’t have showered. Everyday, by 3pm, the house was presentable and I was at least physically presentable. Some days were wonderful, some were normal, some were sad, some were dark and desperate. I had never faced the reality that I will live with epilepsy and seizures for the rest of my life. I always planned that we would control it with medicine and I wouldn’t have to worry with it. That is the most likely case, but I do need to be prepared for the possibility that may not happen. There is always the chance that I will have more seizures and be back in this same place again. Mentally I needed to swallow that big pill, along with another 5 or so. I have seen that I can do this. If I have a seizure tomorrow and the clock restarts we will all deal with what comes our way. Our Lord is ever faithful. He has shown me that, day in and day out. When I was on my knees in prayer and when I was on my knees in tears. He was, is and will be faithful.

The little things have meant so much. People have called and made time to take me to lunch. Those were days I really looked forward to. I got to put myself together! I have a couple of special friends that would drop notes in the mail every so often just to say hello and they were thinking of me. Those notes always arrived on days that I needed a little extra hug. To me, weekly rides for the kids were huge, but the people providing them say they were little so I’ll call them little. These little rides home from Chess Club, baseball practice and games, church, small group, drum lessons, play dates, sleepovers, I could go on and on. Several people have taken on my kids for this entire seven months and are transporting them where they need to be on a weekly basis. They show up without reminders and it means all the world to me. These adults willing to go out of their way mean our kids don’t have to sacrifice something they enjoy because of my health. As parents you all know what that means to us. These are the things I remember…quiet acts of kindness.

Getting moving again. This was a hard one. The doctor wouldn’t let me work out for some time after my seizures. Then she let me slowly begin walking and lifting weights on a modified routine. Anyone who has worked out on any level of intensity knows that you lose it very quickly. I had run a half marathon in mid November and my first seizure was Dec 2nd. By the time I was finally allowed to work out in March I was up more than a few pounds and down more than a few levels of strength and endurance. Frustrated to say the very least! I didn’t want to run with anyone because I was too slow. People at the gym were generous when my instructor told the class about my situation and I had many offers for rides to class. So I followed the rules with weights and began to see progress there. This running thing, this was a different beast. I had been walking so I thought I would be able to run without too much trouble. One stinking mile. Tears tears tears. I felt so pathetic. The road has been my go to for years now. It’s my zone and if ever I needed a zone it was now. If I can’t have running this is just not gonna work for me. I felt so defeated. For weeks I would try to go out and run. Sometimes I would manage a couple, maybe 3 miles, other days hardly 1. I would try consoling myself by saying at least I was doing it. I wasn’t consoled. I felt robbed. It would take me back to that angry place again, angry that this epilepsy had stolen something else from me. Then, in those moments He would speak to me, through the lyrics to music.

“I don’t know where to go from here. As long as I know that You are near. I’m done fighting. I’m finally letting go. I will trust in You. You’ve never failed before. I will trust in You. If there’s a road I should walk Help me find it. If I need to be still, Give me peace for the moment. Whatever Your will, Can you help me find it? I’m giving You fear and You give faith. I’m giving you doubt. You give me grace. For every step I’ve never been alone. Even when it hurts, You’ll have Your way. Even in the valley I will say, with every breath You’ve never let me go. I will wait for You. You’ve never failed before. I will wait for You.” By Sidewalk Prophets “Help Me Find It”

My “It”. I needed to swallow epilepsy and own it. I finally felt like I could say without so much embarrassment that I have epilepsy. I’m a Mom and I am at home with my family. And the rest is really none of your business. No I can’t really say that, but I can say it in my head until I think of something a little snazzier. I am proud of my family and I am fortunate and blessed to be with my children everyday! Now God knows I love the road and I believed He wanted me to have that freedom again.

My sweet niece in Colorado called me in early spring to tell me she wanted to run the Bolder Boulder. It’s a huge Memorial Day attraction founded by Olympian Frank Shorter in 1979. The race ends in the University of Colorado’s Folsom Field with the Finish Line on the big screen for added excitement! She told me she and her entire family were running the race together. This was my “It”! My mind was racing. I was not letting my brother and his whole family do this without me! I called my best friend, Sharon. She was the person who asked me to run a half marathon with her way back in 2005. I knew she wouldn’t turn me down. I asked her to fly to CO with me and run a 10K. I’m pretty sure she didn’t even ask me when it was before she said she would go. Next, Mom. Of course she would go. I called my brother and asked if he could make room for 3 more people that weekend. No problem! I had my goal and I had a couple of months to get ready for 6 miles. I hadn’t run more than 3 miles but I was certain I would be able to do this.

Fast forward to Memorial Day weekend. I had some really bad runs and one really good 4 mile getting ready for the race. I had some great workouts and one right before the race that I had to completely bail on where the people at the gym said I looked dazed and confused. That’s always reassuring. I was so anxious leading up to the race, it was ridiculous. I was afraid to be away from home. I have been home SO much that I’m actually uncomfortable leaving home now. That’s another issue I have to deal with too. Anyway, my prayer warriors were at work and I knew God is faithful. I knew He had not failed me. I knew I needed to step outside of my comfort zone in order to feel His power rain down on me.  Well, guess what? Elevation did not bother us, lack of training did not bother me. I smiled and then I cried like a baby after crossing the finish. I took it all in and looked to the heavens, feeling like I was just a little closer standing there at the base of the Flat Irons. I thanked God for His faithfulness before, during and now. I closed my eyes and the months flashed by and I felt the ground beneath me and I was so grateful for the road I had traveled to cross that finish line. I had given Him fear and doubt and He gave me faith and grace. For every step I was never alone. Indeed He helped me find It. I just needed to rekindle my love with Him.

That's me in the pink! I found my It at the Finish!

That’s me in the pink! I found my It at the Finish!

So officially it is only 34 days until I get the keys back. I feel like I need a refresher course to hit these crazy roads first. I also wonder where I will go? Isn’t that funny? All these months of being at home and learning to consolidate trips to now I wonder where I might need to go? Thank you for being part of this journey with me. For supporting me by reading my posts and giving my an outlet for the crazy thoughts that wonder around in my silly little mind. I hope I give you some laughs, some insight into life that is different from your own and maybe a little bit of something to chew on for another day.

© Gatewood Campbell, June 2014

 

 

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Learning to Loosen My Grip

We all do it. Don’t kid yourself. We want to control our lives. We want to be independent. We want to choose our ways, our days, our plans, our whatevers. While taking care of my Grandmother I listened to her talk about how frustrated she was about having to give up the way she liked things to be. I spent her last years helping her as best I could, among other things, make those things she could no longer do for herself as much like she would have done them herself. Some seemed so silly (who really irons cotton t-shirts?) but they were things that made her life feel normal and she too worked hard to continue normal life even when she was weak and frail.

She did not choose to be 98 and still living. In fact, and she would have been the first to tell you she would go to bed during many thunder storms and pray lightning would strike her, only to awaken disappointed in the morning. She would frown when the doctor would tell her nothing was wrong with her. What she did teach me was to learn to loosen my grip on independence and make the best of where you are. She woke up everyday, not always happy to wake up, many days wanting to stay in bed and cover her head with her covers, but she chose differently. She got up and she got dressed. Getting dressed included shoes and lipstick, always. Sometimes she wasn’t dressed until 2pm but she got dressed. And her bed was always made. Always. Except for one day, the week before she moved to healthcare and that was the week I knew for sure she had taken a turn and would be moving soon. After that she had round the clock help and bed was made every day, to her specifications, even if that meant it had to be made several times.

I am not here by my choice but I am following what my Grandmother taught me the best I can. Everyday I get up, make up the bed and I get dressed. I can’t say I always wear lipstick. Chapstick…maybe. I am trying my best not to be overcome by the fears that taunt me. I am trying my best not to be overcome by the embarrassment of having to ask for help or even worse the embarrassment of being turned down when I ask for help. I am trying my best not to be overcome by the embarrassment of having strangers stare. I am trying my best not to be overcome by confusion. I am trying my best not to be hard on myself. I am trying my best to learn to gently loosen my grip on my own independence and understand that it really never was mine to own anyway.

I am grateful for all of you that are being so patient with me while I try, because having been on the other side, I understand that it takes great effort from you as well. So, I thank you.

© Copyright Gatewood Campbell, March 2014

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We Are All in This Together

I have been overwhelmed by the love and support we have received since my seizure. I cannot begin to describe how my heart has swelled by your outpouring of words, deeds and more importantly honest love for our family. Thank you.

A little over eight years ago I had my first grand mal seizure. We were all surprised, desperate to learn, desperate to recover and convinced that we should keep my diagnosis to ourselves. That was wrong, but the reasons were all legitimate. People are afraid of epilepsy. Not too long ago people suffering from seizures were institutionalized, called unproductive citizens or presumed to be demon possessed. Can you imagine? I could be living and working alongside all of you and then after a seizure be forced to leave my family and spend the rest of my life over medicated and away from my family! Much like cancer, epilepsy does not discriminate. I could bore you with statistics proving the prevalence of epilepsy, but that is not my point.

I am almost embarrassed by your comments of support and love. I am not working to overcome anything more difficult than the things all of you overcome every single day. As a matter of fact, almost everyday I tell God I am thankful He gave me epilepsy and not some of the heart-wrenching difficulties that people I know face each day. YOU are overcomers! YOU are an inspiration! YOU are amazing! YOU teach me to see the sun through the shade. YOU teach me to persevere and get out of bed on days when I would rather pull up the covers until the kids get home. YOU teach me that it is right to be different, because we are all different. Life would be terribly boring if we were all the same. We must never be ashamed to be exactly the person God created. He formed us in His image. God is perfect. So, as far as I am concerned God created us all in the perfect image He desired.

Your love keeps me pressing on. Your love continues to restore my faith that humankind is good. Your love shows me we will get through the next 23 1/2 weeks and that we will be stronger. Your love proves that when we can’t walk, we are carried; by prayers, by actions and by unending support in ways we did not know we needed. Thank you for inspiring me by fighting your own battles. Thank you for teaching me that strength lies in being honest about who we are and by being unashamed of whatever “faults” we may think exist.

You are amazing, inspirational, determined and down right fantastic. Thank YOU for teaching me how to face fear and stomp on it with optimism. You are my heroes and I am eternally thankful for the stories you tell through the lives you live.

© Copyright Gatewood Campbell, December 2013

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Nothing Ventured, Nothing Gained

One thing is guaranteed. I will never stop trying.

I found a couple of ways I thought I could help at church. It has taken me a long time to want to serve in church again, under the roof where I once worked. There is so much emotional trauma attached but I have found inner peace with the journey God took me on and the realization that His ways are always better. I finally came to a place where I was comfortable again. I’m also working hard to rebuild my confidence in a lot of the areas where I struggle. Rebuilding only comes when I try, and that usually means some trial and error. It’s risky, because an error could mean too much stress and lead to a seizure. In my mind, I have to always push my limits or I’m stuck in the same four walls that slowly creep in on me. It is worth the risk to try, because sometimes I win.

Today I ventured off to get some supplies for the youth ministry. Ok, first of all, NO, nothing about this involved a trip to Target so I felt completely safe. All I needed to do was go to B.J.’s and get some supplies off a list I had been given. Seemed pretty simple and straight forward to me and it seemed like the perfect kind of task to take off someone’s already overflowing plate. After all, today is Tuesday, and I still like to stay busy on Tuesdays. Yeah, I got this.

I only took two wrong turns getting there, and I still say the signage is awful, but I got there. I talk to myself when I drive. I told myself it was funny that all the old people can get in this parking lot but I couldn’t figure it out. I laughed, probably out loud. I pulled into a parking spot and saw the enormous buggies and the platform dollies. I started looking around at the people coming out and the bulging buggies and it hit me like a ton of bricks. What in the world was I doing? What planet was I on thinking I could manage getting around a store this size, dragging a dolly that would carry my family, my brother’s family and my mom, AND have a successful trip? Self chatter again, “you are here now so just go”.

I will admit that I couldn’t figure out where the stupid door was to get into the building. Again, signage people! I waited for someone to walk in so I could find my own way by following them. I surely didn’t want to run head on into the out door dragging 6′ long dolly do nothing behind me. Once I got in, I made small talk about the weather with the nice man checking for my membership card and I ventured into the concrete abyss.

I spotted the aisle that would likely have most of the things I needed and I headed that way. Suddenly I stopped and just started looking around. These aisles were long, really really long. The ceiling was high, unnecessarily high and yet it was stacked within inches of the ceiling with merchandise. I wondered who needed all this stuff. Christmas gifts, candy and ornaments were already out but thankfully there were no inflatable singing dancing moving things, because in that brief moment of overstimulation it is possible I would have had to puncture some cute Santa to eliminate some noise. As I stood there I was whisked back in time. I used to love this kind of shopping, a warehouse store, yummy goodies in bulk at discount prices! Who wouldn’t love that?! And I realized, today was the first day since early 2005 that I have walked through the doors of a store like this.

Fight or flight? I had two choices. One, leave dolly do nothing in the way of every customer and walk out (assuming I could FIND the exit), or two, fight to regain my confidence in an uncomfortable situation and stick it out. I reached in my pocket and pulled out my list. I looked around the store and I think I actually said out loud “I can do this”.

The first aisle was like hitting the jackpot. I checked off the majority of my list in one aisle. It took several runs up and down the same aisles and back and forth across the store (dragging the now heavier dolly do nothing) to mark off the rest of the list. I kept looking for someone to ask where I might find things, but I guess lower prices does mean fewer employees. I only ran into a few displays and I didn’t knock anything over so I totally see that as a success with a loaded dolly. My list was checked off, my merchandise was stacked neatly and I headed for the checkout. I had stopped several times, confused by the placement of items, confused by where to find prices and confused with the choices between items. I caught myself questioning the sensibility of this trip. Each time I shook it off, determined to prove I could overcome. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. I had already ventured and I was determined to gain.

The lines were super short, cue the Hallelujah chorus, and I pulled up and began putting the smaller items on the conveyer belt. No problem checking out, until I pulled out the money to pay and the cashier realized I was paying for the entire order with just a couple of $5 bills and the rest $1 bills. I realized a line was beginning to form behind me and people were pushing me along. I had to stand in front of a teenager and count out the money. Ugg, counting always throws me off because I forget where I am and I had to count very high. Part of me wanted to tell the guy I wasn’t a stripper using all my tip money to pay and that really this was for my church, but as the conversation played out in my head it seemed useless, though it did provide me some humor. Since I was using $1 bills I didn’t want to embarrass myself by giving him way too much so I had stacks of $20s and then some $1s. I tried to figure out how to give him enough for the bill within a dollar. Then I realized he was in training so his supervisor said she had to count it out too! Oh mercy me. I glanced behind me and saw the 4 items the customer behind me wanted to buy and I could feel her frustration on my neck as I again tried counting, now with the cashier counting each stack that I gave him, and his supervisor counting it again too. The line kept getting longer and I kept repeating and counting “$20, $40, $60, $80, now what’s the total again?” Finally I, or we, got it right and he handed me my change, just a few coins. I had counted correctly, within a dollar of the total!

As I pulled 6′ long dolly do nothing towards the exit and the friendly weather talking man who was prepared to review my purchases, I glanced back into the store. I saw the long line that had formed behind me and I saw the insanely large store. I looked at my purchases and smiled. I had done it. The man looked at my pile and said “Wow, you sure did pack things neatly into these boxes.” I grinned and winked at the old man, grabbed dolly do nothing and said “Yes, yes sir. I found everything I needed here today.”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Today I ventured. Today I gained.

© Copyright Gatewood Campbell, November 2013