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It's a Glitterful Life.

It's a Glitterful Life.

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There’s No Use Crying Over Spilled Milk. Spilled Wine Though? Totally Different Scenario.

31 Tuesday Jan 2017

Posted by lwest1451 in Uncategorized

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For the record, spilt wine and Starbucks is Ugly. Face. Cry. Worthy.

 

So I’m going to go ahead and apologize now. I feel like I only ever write on this thing when I’m feeling down. Like really down, like when it’s the bottom of the fifth and you pitch a home run for the opposing team and lose the game level of down…Woahhh can we pause and reevaluate for a second? Did I really just use baseball as a metaphor? I mean, the last (and only) baseball game I went to I asked my best friend’s husband how many quarters there were and where the cheerleaders were. (Seriously you can’t make this stuff up.) Anyways, It seems like I only ever pull out the laptop and open up the blog when I don’t know what else to do and there’s no other choice than to put everything into words, and attempt to make sense of the hott mess that is my life. So for that I apologize, I promise I really am a semi-normal, overly sassy and sarcastic girl , not some gray, Eeyore type individual that walks around with a storm cloud over her head.

Okay, back to ugly crying and sad puddles of wasted Cupcake Moscato. The last few weeks have been pretty insane in the world of Laura. By insane I mean finding out that my current job will be changing soon, experiencing some heartbreaking days that come with being a Hem/Onc nurse, ending up in the bathroom floor of the med room with a gash in my lip, a fabulous bruise and some broken teeth, some unforeseen health concerns that I was in no way shape or form expecting, and of course the usual stress that is everyone’s lives, like the first return episode of Grey’s being a total bummer. So, all of this of course, complicates things. When God handed me the MS crown he couldn’t have given me something that high stress levels improve or lesson, no, he had to give me a disease that is exacerbated by stress and fatigue. Thanks God. ( For those of you reading way into that sentence, chill it’s called humor, this is where you find the humor people.)  One of the new lovely symptoms that has graced me with it’s presence is arm weakness, and numbness that is intermittent in nature and occurs at the worst possible times (As if I wasn’t clumsy enough, once again, God has an incredible sense of humor y’all.) So this has made life around my house and job pretty interesting. Not as interesting as 2 failed shopping trips though.

Sunday night when I got off work I knew I needed to walk around for a little while before making the drive home. Sounds crazy I know, but spasticity is a strange, strange thing. So I went to every girl’s favorite vice.Target. With a venti white chocolate mocha in hand, a red target shopping basket, ear buds blasting my favorite Pandora station, and that handy always in fashion Target red card I set out for some retail therapy. About an hour in, I pick up my coffee and boom, the electric shock effect followed by numbness and severe weakness hit my left hand/arm and like a bad music video I turn the cup completely upside down in what felt like slow motion onto my phone, keys, self, and shopping basket. Just in case you were wondering what liquid sounds like when it falls through a plastic shopping basket, it sounds a lot like those huge buckets that fill with water at a water park and then dump every 3 mins or so. Seriously, it’s quite dramatic. So,  needless to say I left my favorite Target sticky and smelling like old milk,  in tears of humiliation, defeat, and anger, and fearful that I could never show my face in my favorite Target store ever again. Fast forward to Monday afternoon, I’m in Walmart this time because I’m still too embarrassed to enter a Target store just yet,  when I decide  that I need a bottle of my favorite wine to commemorate the fact that even though I have been  feeling absolutely horrible and struggling I’m still standing, still working and now I’m even grocery shopping through it all like a real functioning adult  when boom it all happens again,  except this time it’s more dramatic than ever. There’s something about glass shattering on icky Walmart tile that makes everyone stop mid sentence and stride to turn and look to see what has happened. Seriously even babies stopped crying to turn and stare.

First thought through my mind : Seriously. Why. Is. This. My. Life.

Second thought: Shit, do I still have to pay for this even though its obviously wasted? Also is it too soon and frowned upon to step over the broken glass and grabbed another bottle orrrrrr? 

Third thought: Perfect, first Target, now Walmart. Guess I’m just going to have to be one of those antisocial hermits that have everything delivered to their doors, never leave their houses and are scared of life outside of their bubble… Yeah I’m never shy on the dramatics.

In the end,the entire fiasco was nothing that a 3 min cry session in my car and a phone call to my mother couldn’t fix. I mean, let’s face it, sometimes some humility and embarrassment is good for the soul right?

What this all equals to is that no matter how much we choose to ignore things, no matter how many cable wired fences, steel walls, or trained attack dogs we put outside of our pretty glittered filled perfect pink bubbles that we try and live our lives in,  the bad things still happen. The reality still finds us. The hard things, are still hard. The bad days, are still going to occur or as in my case the lab results, imaging, symptoms , embarrassing trips to the ER in bloody scrubs and C-collars, and sticky, coffee and wine messes in major department stores will still happen. Because no amount of denial, perseverance, bargaining, or sarcasm can  make reality any less real. So people, whatever your equivalent to spilt wine is, embrace it. Cry over it, laugh over it, make fun of yourself over it and be thankful for it. Because you were chosen for this life. The good times, the hard times and the glitterful moments were hand picked for you. There’s only one you, and the world needs your best moments and your worst moments. This life is an absolute hot mess of ridiculous chaos, but it sure is glitterful.

 

With love,

Laura ❤  

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When God Doesn’t Fix It.

18 Friday Nov 2016

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This morning I had my long dreaded hospital follow up with Cardiology. (And by dreaded I mean I thought about canceling it no less than 936 times even while in the parking lot) Sitting in the waiting room looking at the other 29 people who were waiting to be seen I began to feel sorry for myself. It was obvious I was the youngest there by far, by no less than 30 years easily. I shouldn’t be here, I should be at work, complaining about being stuck at work, or knocking off the 19 things on my to do list, or out getting a pedicure with a glass of wine in my right hand and Facebook creeping my exes with my left one. Wherever I should be it shouldn’t be here in a cardiology waiting room triaging the other patients waiting in my head and guessing their probable diagnosis’s. But this is where I sit. It’s where life has brought me. It’s where God has brought me. Whether I like it or not.

I recently read a book written by one of my favorite Christian musicians, Laura Story called When God Doesn’t Fix It. Fitting right? In the book Laura recalls when her husband was diagnosed with a brain tumor, the complications that followed and how much her faith was tested. She is completely honest and transparent and admits to every time she doubted her faith and even God. That hit deep. Why? Because I like to ignore those feelings when they arise. I shove them deep down inside because who am I to question God? How dare I question my faith? It wasn’t until I was reading this book that I realized that that just might be my very problem. (Spoiler alert it’s not a might, it’s a YES That’s my problem exactly!!!) I’m afraid to admit to myself, to God and especially to other that I have my days of doubt. Instead of letting those feelings surface, I completely shut down. You can’t doubt your faith if you just choose to not acknowledge it at all right? Wrong.

The truth is I’ve never been more weak in my faith than I am right now. I’ve never felt more personally victimized by God than I do in this moment. I’ve trusted him from the beginning. Sitting in the ER almost a year a half ago listening to my physician tell me that there were abnormalities on my MRI and I needed to be admitted immediately to rule out MS, I trusted Him. I remained faithful, I praised Him, I trusted the journey. Later that same year, hearing that same physician say he was uncertain that I would ever walk again, I continued to trust Him, I continued to praise Him, I trusted that He wasn’t finished yet and that the journey was only beginning.Then when life started changing, and miracle after miracle begin to pour in and happen right before my very eyes, I trusted Him and praised Him and knew the journey would only be beautiful from here on out.The darkness was over. Which is why when I was lead to a new team of neurologist with a new treatment plan I knew it was good and things were only going to continue to get better and better. Which is why as time went on and life started returning to normal and by normal I mean really normal, like better than before normal, work was amazing, I felt better than I had in literally forever and it finally seemed like something was working and the future was full of endless possibilities I knew it was by his grace and that this was the “good” He promises us.

Until everything fell apart. Until I ended up back in an OR, then a week later back in the hospital, then a week later back in the hospital again and finally with the scary news that I now had some serious heart issues due to the miracle treatment that I just knew was going to fix everything. I don’t think I had ever felt my heart truly break until that moment.

You learn in nursing school the Kubler-Ross 5 stages of grief, you are taught how to empathize with those experiencing them and how the stages don’t all happen separately or individually, but what you don’t learn is what it truly feels like to experience 4/5 at the same time, in the same moment. I was heartbroken, pissed off, helpless, in denial and in utter shock at how cruel God could be. How could this God who promises only good allow me to become so happy and whole again only to absolutely demolish it in a matter of weeks? I had been faithful, I had been patient, I had trusted and found beauty in the freaking journey so why can’t I have my good? Why can’t I have a freaking moment to be okay?

The answer is simple. Especially in my life of constant medical jargon, 6 syllable words and vast uncertainties. The answer is because the journey isn’t over. The good that He promises still awaits, and the journey although broken, and twisted and dark is still beautiful and it’s only just begun. The truth is I may never be “fixed”, I may never be the “normal”I once was, I may never live out the pretty picture of a life I’ve dreamed about my enitire life. But I’ve been trusted and given this life for a greater purpose, that is yet to be discovered but does exist. Whether it’s to show others facing similar struggles that they can be faced or to be used as an example of how not to do it is yet to be determined. (;

 

Romans 8:28

-And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.

 

-Laura ❤️
hospital

Thank you.

15 Monday Aug 2016

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I’m blessed with so much more than I deserve, especially with the people beside me. Even through the last trainwreck of a year, I still turn around or look beside me and see way more people beside me than I deserve. These people endure absolute hell right along with me, even more so than myself in the sense that they have to also put up with me during all the craziness. They all somehow know when to love me, when to threaten to kick my ass, when to be soft, and when to be hard. This post is dedicated to them. The real winners in this story of my hot mess express life. The reason I am who am I and the ones who are to thank for the best parts of me and ultimately, the reason I’m here today.

Thank you, for being there when I hit rock bottom. That expression is scary enough; rock bottom. Those moments when all the light fades from my world and I lose every ounce of faith, positivity and strength I have. The moment I’m at my absolute weakest, the moment I question how I’ll ever survive, how I’ll find the strength to make it another second. You take my hand, remind me that my track record for surviving bad days is 100% and remind me of every single great thing in life, and restore my faith. You dry the tears, calm the anxiety and remind me that it is okay to feel the way I’m feeling; but that tomorrow is a new day, and it must be seized. Thankfully these rock bottom moments are rare, but the love I experience during these moments is breathtaking and the reason these moments are so rare.

Thank you, for being blunt, harsh and matter of factly, when I’m wearing denial as a crown.  Now these moments, are much more common. They are how I would absolutely live every second of my life if I didn’t have the amazing people I have in my life, who aren’t afraid to tell me that I’m being ridiculous and need to grow up and get it together. This actually might be the hardest part of it all. Being the bad cop. Thank you, for risking being mean to make me wake up and realize I’m jeopardizing my own future and life. For not being afraid to piss me off by not sugar coating everything and for being strong enough to stand up to me and my crown of denial and tell me that I’m running from everything instead of being brave and handling things like an adult.

Thank you for loving me at my absolute worst. Thank you for being there for the midnight phone calls after a horrible day at work, when I’m in tears and not even able to speak through the sobs, Thank you for always being down for tequila, wine, carbs or whatever the chosen poison maybe that day after that stupid boy broke my heart…again, for the 47th time. Thank you for always being willing to  fall victim to the meltdowns, the tantrums, the bathroom ugly face cry, and the psychotic laughing anger phase that even scares myself.

Thank you for reminding me who I am at my best. Thank you for reminding me that I’m so much more than that bad day. That I’m more than my mistakes and shortcomings. That I have so much to offer the world. That I matter. That my sarcasm and potty mouth aren’t the only things I bring to the table. Thank you for having faith in me on the days I even lose faith in myself. Thank you for never allowing me to quit. (Except for smoking when drinking, snookie bumps and total face bronzer. yeah Thank you for that X 1365723687) Thank you for defining me by my good moments, and not my bad ones.

Thank you for inspiring me, and making me into a better person. Thank you for leading by example, showing me what strength, grace, intelligence and success look like. You make me want to be a better person, and for that I will always adore you.

And finally thank you for walking this journey with me. From the  highschool teenage years, to college and all those disastrous relationships, to nursing school and all the hellacious moments that came with that, to my first year as a nurse and all the highs and lows that that included, to being there when my world was turned upside down by a diagnosis, being there for the heartbreak that everyone saw coming and warned me about for years and years. No matter where in that insane run-on sentence you entered my life, you have left a imprint on me, you’ve made me into the person I am today. Thank you for being by my side. Thank you for loving me. 

– Laura❤️

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Coming back. 

26 Sunday Jun 2016

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You’re shattered

Like you’ve never been before

The life you knew

In a thousand pieces on the floor

You think you’re never gonna get back

To the you that used to be

Tell your heart to beat again

Close your eyes and breathe it in

Let the shadows fall away

Step into the light of grace

Yesterday’s a closing door

You don’t live there anymore

Say goodbye to where you’ve been

And tell your heart to beat again.

These are lyrics to one of my favorite songs. These are also words that I feel could have came from my own heart. I recently went though a difficult season. A season filled with uncertainty, doubt, fear and hopelessness. I never thought I would be able to return to life, my home, my work. Then the impossible happened, after 86 days of being in the hospital, surgeries, injections, 100’s of hours of physcial and occupational therapies I was able to walk again. That should be the end of the story right? I should end here with and she lived happily ever after.
Except that’s not how it ended.

I thought surving rehab was the hard part. I thought painful serial castings and hours in a standing frame were the hard part. I thought being alone in a hospital room was the hard part. I thought being dependant on another person to help me with the simplest task was the hard part. I thought being the patient, instead of the nurse was the hard part.
I was completely wrong. The hard part started when life returned to “normal.” The hard part started when I realized that I was not the same person I was 4 months prior.

I’ve come to realize that accepting you have an illness is one thing, accepting that that illness will affect your daily life is a entirely different thing. The first few outings after coming home were difficult, having everyone stop and ask you how you’re doing and how glad they are that you are doing better was hard. So many times I thought to myself, why can’t we just pretend I’ve been on vacation for 4 months and that my disabilty and the months in the hospital and a wheelchair never happened? Why can’t we just erase the last 4 months and move on?

Going back to work was even harder. While i was so thankful everyone was so kind and welcoming it was hard to have to acknowlege that I had indeed been gone and that I was fragile. I was ashamed of what I’d been through, even embarrassed of all that i’d been through. I wanted to scream that I was fine, that I was the same Laura that left in December, that I was not going to fall apart at any given moment, but the truth is, I was none of those things and I was in fact ready to fall apart. The hardest part was not feeling like a member of the team or family anymore. Don’t missunderstand me, my coworkers are beyond amazing. They are the most beautiful, supportive group of people I know, and I’m blessed by their presence, but trying to return to who you use to be, and finding it physcially impossible is one of the biggest and realist heartbreaks I’ve ever experianced. The job and people who I had fought so hard to come back to, wasn’t what I expected and I was devestated. The job was the same, the people were the same. But I wasn’t, and I may never be.

This is where I sit today. Trying to tell my heart to beat again. Trying to accept what is and continuing to have faith in what will be.   I’m entering a new season, a season of learning; learning that it’s okay to not be the same me I once was, learning that it’s okay to be different and learning how to love myself again. I hope to someday (sooner, rather than later) be able to write a blog titled Acceptance, that describes the ending to this season. That is filled with a story about how I learned to accept the things I cannot change; a story about how I learned to love every single part of myself, including this illness.  A story that ends with me typing, &  she lived happily ever after.

 

Unitl then,

–Laura.

 

||12 months, 365 days, 525, 600 minutes.||

22 Thursday Oct 2015

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12 months, 365 days. 525,600 minutes. 

The exact measurement of time that has passed since my family’s life as we knew it changed.

October 22, 2014 I was sitting in a pediatric medicine class with no less than 60 other people when my cell phone rang and my brother’s name and picture popped up on my iPhone. My stomach immediately sank and my heart knew that this day would be the beginning of a new life for my family.  To this day I can still pull up that exact phone record and see the time, length and exact second that I last heard my brother’s voice before the entire dynamics of life as we knew it changed. That 3 second phone call that was simply an “I love you kiddo.” and a click is one that I can still hear and remember to this day.

I went back into class, asked for prayers on Facebook and truly believed in my heart that by the end of the week my brother, sister-in-law and niece would be not only back in Texas but in West Texas, where we had only dreamed that we would both end up living once again. I whole heartedly expected a phone call from my brother later that morning saying that the nightmare was over and behind us. That phone call never came. 

I’m not writing this today to recap that day at Nisur Square, or the trial or the fight we are currently in for justice and to get these 4 heros reunited with their families where they belong. Chances are if you’re reading this you know the story, you’ve visited the http://www.supportraven23.com website, you’ve written letters to Judge Lamberth, and you’ve supported, loved and held myself and family up through this journey. And for that, we are incredibly thankful and blessed to have the best community, family and friends in our life.  I’m simply writing this to recap on the events that occurred on a personal level one year ago today.  Those of you who know me closely or work with me know how I function, how I tick. I am the worlds worst about keeping things together and under control until the very moment when everything builds up and I simply can’t anymore. Today is that day. I scheduled myself off  today like I did because I knew today there would be tears, sadness and moments of extreme anger that is enough to completely consume a person. I knew that I needed this day, to cry, scream and proclaim in my mind no less that 932 times that this is not fair. That my government let us down. That the justice system in one big lie. That somethings in life are.not.fair.

Like my last post proclaimed tomorrow is a new day. And with that new day will come a new better attitude and the return of my positivity. Tomorrow I will wake up, get dressed and go out into the world like I do everyday and keep the faith and pray for the day when this nightmare is over, in the past and four heroes are reunited with their wives, parents, children and siblings. And what a glorious day that will be.11707830_714151315377233_3394453480831695552_n

-Laura.

[[ http://www.supportraven23.com]]

[[Bad Days & Black Clouds]]

18 Sunday Oct 2015

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So today was in the words of Alexander  a ” Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.”

Okay so maybe it wasn’t that bad but still it wasn’t pleasant, by any means. It never fails that bad days are followed by feelings of failure, anxiety and doubt. It is on these days that I am actually thankful for my 40 min. commute to and from work as it gives me time to reflect on my day and the events that occurred. The conclusion of today’s long drive home served as the inspiration on this post, as  today was in one word stressful.

I do not, nor have I ever claimed to be a perfectionist. I’m the farthest thing from what we so commonly refer to as “OCD” and most of the time I can convince myself of this lie, except for days like today. From the moment I awoke this morning nothing went “my” way, and it immediately started eating away at me. Thus my black cloud metaphor came into play, and surprise, surprise guess what followed me into work? You guessed it, that metaphorically demonic black cloud.  I am a nurse. My job is naturally stressful, and I love it. It’s actually one of my favorite things about working in medicine, it’s the adrenaline rush, the unexpected, the thrill. But today no matter what calls I made or thing I did, I felt that little black cloud come in and bring with it those feelings of failure, even when I knew that  that wasn’t the case at all.  So many days I face doubts at work, was I the best nurse today? Patient Advocate? Charge nurse? Mentor? Teammate? Leader? The list could literally go on and on. Typically, I can do a quick rundown of my day in my brain, realize that I did everything I could, pin point areas to improve on, clock out, get on the elevator and leave it all at work. This was  obviously not the case today.  I know these feelings are 100% natural especially being new to my current position however some days, like today they are pronounced and weigh heavily.  Especially on days when everything that could go wrong did.

As much as I loath bad days and the gloomy feelings the bring I’m also thankful for them. Without bad days how could I ever appreciate the good days? How could I ever learn or grow to be a better nurse, leader or human being in general? I couldn’t, point-blank, easy peasy, simple. The truth is we need bad days, we need black clouds hovering over us, we need chances to step back and reevaluate our days, and we need shortcomings to make us better.  And lastly and possibly more importantly I need bad days to make me appreciate the good.

With that said, here’s to those  better days ahead<3

-||Laura||

||Laura Ann West||

14 Wednesday Oct 2015

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Hello World! After many years of  interest in a having my own blog I’ve finally decided at 0000 on October 14th to jump off the deep in and join the “blogging” community. I’ve decided to kick things off with a 24 things about myself, crash course introduction to who I am.   Because whats more fun than a list that coincides with my age?

  1. I’m 24 years old. (I mean obviously)
  2. I am an imperfect work in progress Christian.
  3. I am from a teeny tiny town in Texas and I could not be more obsessed with the area, culture and scenery.
  4. I’m a Registered Nurse at the major hospital in the region and work primarily with cancer patients.
  5. I have two of the most incredible parents ever, an older brother, sister-in-law and niece who I do not deserve to call family. Seriously I am beyond blessed in the fam. department.
  6. I’m also beyond blessed in the friend department. The majority of my friends are life long and make my days complete.
  7. I was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis in March of 2015.
  8. I was born and raised on a ranch and can cowgirl up with extreme ease.
  9. I’m also quite the high maintenance girly girl.
  10. Writing 24 things about myself is proving to be harder than originally planned.
  11. Music and lyrics are my therapy. I listen to music 24/7.
  12. I am a lover of coffee, Netflix, Pandora, tequila, and a good time.
  13. I live to brighten others days and use my education to empower and educate others. Hence why I became a nurse.
  14. My mother is my best friend.
  15. My father and I’s relationship can best be described as “complicated” but its an unconditional love between a father and daughter.
  16. I am the proud little sister of one of the four wrongly convicted members of Raven 23. http://www.supportraven23.cm
  17. I am a total people person but hate having to adult and talk to people some days. It never fails those are the days when I’m charging and am forced to speak to no less that 100 people during a 12 hour shift.
  18.  Having MS has been a total nightmare emotionally and physically, but it sure is making one beautiful story and testament for my life.
  19. I fall in love way to easily. Both romantically and not.
  20. I constantly have my cell phone in my hand or on my body. I’m “that girl.”
  21. But I suck at texting. I’ll send you the wrong text or just forget to reply for 8 hours. It’s a struggle.
  22. I have two fur babies who are actually assholes who allow me to live with them in a four bedroom house.
  23. I hate watching movies but am addicted to Grey’s Anatomy and the food network.
  24. I love this crazy beautiful life I’ve been given. It’s tragic, it’s beautiful and most of all it’s mine. And even through it all I wouldn’t trade it for anything.



Newer posts →

All Blog Posts

  • Surrender
  • Dear Younger Me,
  • I’m sorry for not getting better.
  • When a diagnosis redefines who you are.
  • Yeses, Nos and Open and Closed Doors.  
  • When chronic illness makes you feel unworthy and throws you into self isolation.
  • Dear physician who doesn’t understand your chronic illness patient.
  • Dear Newly Diagnosed MS Patient.
  • Fighting for the glitter. 
  • Holding on. 
  • There’s No Use Crying Over Spilled Milk. Spilled Wine Though? Totally Different Scenario.
  • When God Doesn’t Fix It.
  • Thank you.
  • Coming back. 
  • ||12 months, 365 days, 525, 600 minutes.||
  • [[Bad Days & Black Clouds]]
  • ||Laura Ann West||

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