If I actually list the allergens our family is avoiding, it's gluten, wheat, dairy, with added emphasis on the proteins for her blood sugar levels and mine. Little guy shouldn't eat bananas. She has reacted to mangos. I react to at least one family of vegetables and a couple other assorted common yet strange veggies. The biggest ones to avoid are egg and corn. I'd decided, just from lack of internal strength, not to try to avoid them completely, since it's "just a systemic allergy." Well, after one week off away from products made from corn itself, I'm down 4 pounds. I can't ignore this. Corn is one of the poisons for my system, and I need to avoid it too. I just found an expensive bean based chip, so I have some hope that I can make some tortilla chips from black beans. That just calls for another experiment, right?
I've really been struggling with another severe asthma flare. I was proactive, at least, but my numbers fell quite quickly, and *A* reason has NOT really appeared. I was helping with little kids, so maybe there was a germ related trigger, there was a weather change, we haven't had the same weight of blanket on the bed that we did, perhaps I didn't really finish getting over the bronchitis so just one simple trigger set off an avalanche...
Sometimes looking for the reason is counterproductive. I need to let go, step forward, take the stupid medicines, and go on. We humans want our reasons though, don't we? I sure seem to. It's easier to deal with, and explain to others, if there is a "Why" attached to something.
Sometimes there is no why. Sometimes what seems to be beautiful still has scratches, scars, burns, hidden cracks...yet it's still beautiful. It's all in how we choose to look at it. Today, the bruised, hacking lump that I am existing in will carry me through at least 2 stores, will get a massage, and I will smile at those around me to the degree I can. It may just be a small smile, but the journey is what it is. I'm on it. I'm still here, and though some days it hurts to move, I'll move. My eyes are open, I see the good and the bad, but I can make a choice on which perspective I take. I choose to look for the beauty.
The picture is of a little turtle rock I bought a couple years back. It's one of my favorite turtles. It has a racing stripe on its back, and I just felt drawn to it. While a friend was holding it, though, it dropped. Twice. The front left fin broke off the second time, but that was funny to me because my left hand was the one I had broken just a year or two before, and I was still struggling with pain. This turtle became more meaningful. It's not perfect. I'm not perfect, and sometimes I really just want to hide in my shell, but small motions forward are still small motions.
Thank you for letting me share.