Sunday, August 11, 2013
A square peg for a round hole...hmmmm!
As I make my triumphant return to my blog, it has come to my attention that there has been a fairly consistent theme to my life these past few months(as well as in the lives of many that I converse with on a daily basis), that we all have our "square peg for a round hole" moments, scenarios or entire life situations. For those of you that know me, you are well aware that I am pretty okay with marching to the beat of my own drummer, but sometimes a sliver of conformity almost sounds like heaven. However, then we have the opportunity to realize that we can have our "Apollo 13" moment and make that square peg fit (if you don't get the reference, watch the movie). We aren't conforming, but finding out how to exist in the world of mixed shapes. Yes, society still sends us a plethora of mixed signals...be inclusive, but still fit into these cookie cutter molds we have shaped for you, ha! If you appear to be just too different and too good to be true, we'll even make an example out of you!
http://shine.yahoo.com/love-sex/girlfriend-weighs-more-170300690.html;_ylt=A2KJ3CSbWQhSrhsAo6YhmolQ
Take this story on Yahoo! Shine for example...this couple has been featured within the media realms more than once, all because she weighs more than him!!!!! I love the fact that this couple is taking a stand, letting the world know that they are in love even though they are so different, but isn't it sad that we live in a society where loving someone makes headline news? Well friends, I might as well admit it, I weigh more than my husband. Someone had better call the local paper and alert the radio station, because a plus sized gal found love with someone outside of her body type! Gasp!!! Honestly, why should it matter? I don't see too many people consumed with worry because I have more schooling or because he has a better tan...so why does it matter that I have more meat on my bones? It matters because we do not fit the societal mold of couple hood! We live in a world riddled with crime, poverty, hunger, etc. and still, we must pigeon-hold people into thinking that they are "odd" "weird" or "different" because one of these things is not like the other. Humph (of course, said with my arms crossed and a sigh).
We live in a world where we have much more important things to focus on, a world where children are losing their lives because they don't fit this overly-glamorized mold. People, it is time for all of us to wake up and smell the java...we need to be the change we want to see! DON'T EVER let someone make you feel "less than" because you don't match the picture of perfection in their head. Do I need to make changes in my life? You can bet your bottom dollar that I do, but they are dictated by health and a desire to live a long time to see my loved ones grow, not a longing to be a fashion plate or cover model. Sexy is a state of mind, not a number on a tag or a picture in a magazine...embrace your unique self and accept all of the beauty around you. Take your stand, be proud of who you are, and NEVER forget that you are one in six billion and no one can ever take your place :)
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Part Two of Unique Me
At the point of diagnosis, crutches became a permanent part of my life (they had been a stand-by for the previous six months, but now they weren't optional). Talk about a pain in the pits, these things can be lethal and no where near fashionable. However, since they ended up being a part of my wardrobe for nearly three years (yes, I said three followed by years), I learned how to dress them up a little bit. Decorate for holidays, get autographs, use them for purposes other than what they were intended for :) However, I digress. Appointments at Riley were happening on a monthly basis and my next appointment post-diagnosis was the day after my first day of seventh grade. Trust me, I wasn't ready for this appointment, it was far from routine.
We showed up at the clinic early to receive my orders for blood work and x-rays. Since I was on such high doses of anti-inflammatory medication, my blood counts had to be checked on a very frequent basis to make sure that my vital organs were still functioning properly. I felt like a human pin-cushion, especially on the days where a 10-vial draw was a necessity, but the tests were important and saved me more than once! I was also becoming a pro in the x-ray department...I knew exactly what views they needed, how many times it would take to get a clear picture, and how embarrassed I would become when they would ask my about my ovaries or if there was a chance of pregnancy.
When we finally met with Dr. Kling and his staff, they informed us that since I was such a rarity, treatment was a difficult path to prescribe. There were procedures that could be done to check the severity of the joint, but it required general anesthesia and potential surgical components. However, there was one option that stood out above the rest and would be the non-surgical option to gain some rotation within the hip. I wasn't a candidate for a replacement or other non-exploratory surgeries (like the one above) because I was still growing and for a second strike, the nature of my disease could actually eat the replacement joint. My option...an extended stay at Lifelines Childrens' Hospital in Indianapolis. I would receive specialized physical and occupational therapy, nursing care and constant monitoring. Doesn't that sound like a load of fun? My thoughts exactly! The day was Thursday, my reservation had been made for Monday morning.
I plan on dedicating an entire blog post to my time at Lifelines, but it ended up being a one-month stay in a place that was basically a nursing home for children. My life and the life of my family had been put on-hold. Everyone took turns staying with me, wiping my tears and being the face of courage when I was at my lowest point imaginable. I endured 12-14 hours of physical/occupational therapy each day. They had to create a traction unit out of my shoes in order to stretch my hip properly...I had to use it everyday and then sleep in one similar to it every night. I had to be placed in certain positions and strapped to bolsters for an hour at a time...I remember screaming at the top of my lungs due to the intense pain. It got to the point that no one was allowed to be in the room with me during "position time" because I would beg them to unhook me and not tell the nurses. I would eventually become calm, but at that time, nothing could compare to the pain. I was blessed with an abundance of cards, care packages, flowers and above else, love. I had friends that would come and visit and just climb in the bed with me while I was being iced down for my next round of therapy or lying in the traction device. I prayed every Friday,when the insurance had to re-approve my stay for another week, that they would deny me and kick me to the curb. Of course the insurance was phenomenal and they kept giving the high-sign for me to continue. Ugh! However, through the pain and the tears, this is the moment where I realized how different I truly was, how lucky I was to be surrounded by so much love. My hip may be rare and a celebrity on the medical conference circuit, but I had more to offer the world than a copy of my bone scan. This condition wouldn't define me, it would push me through to new levels that I never felt possible.
We showed up at the clinic early to receive my orders for blood work and x-rays. Since I was on such high doses of anti-inflammatory medication, my blood counts had to be checked on a very frequent basis to make sure that my vital organs were still functioning properly. I felt like a human pin-cushion, especially on the days where a 10-vial draw was a necessity, but the tests were important and saved me more than once! I was also becoming a pro in the x-ray department...I knew exactly what views they needed, how many times it would take to get a clear picture, and how embarrassed I would become when they would ask my about my ovaries or if there was a chance of pregnancy.
When we finally met with Dr. Kling and his staff, they informed us that since I was such a rarity, treatment was a difficult path to prescribe. There were procedures that could be done to check the severity of the joint, but it required general anesthesia and potential surgical components. However, there was one option that stood out above the rest and would be the non-surgical option to gain some rotation within the hip. I wasn't a candidate for a replacement or other non-exploratory surgeries (like the one above) because I was still growing and for a second strike, the nature of my disease could actually eat the replacement joint. My option...an extended stay at Lifelines Childrens' Hospital in Indianapolis. I would receive specialized physical and occupational therapy, nursing care and constant monitoring. Doesn't that sound like a load of fun? My thoughts exactly! The day was Thursday, my reservation had been made for Monday morning.
I plan on dedicating an entire blog post to my time at Lifelines, but it ended up being a one-month stay in a place that was basically a nursing home for children. My life and the life of my family had been put on-hold. Everyone took turns staying with me, wiping my tears and being the face of courage when I was at my lowest point imaginable. I endured 12-14 hours of physical/occupational therapy each day. They had to create a traction unit out of my shoes in order to stretch my hip properly...I had to use it everyday and then sleep in one similar to it every night. I had to be placed in certain positions and strapped to bolsters for an hour at a time...I remember screaming at the top of my lungs due to the intense pain. It got to the point that no one was allowed to be in the room with me during "position time" because I would beg them to unhook me and not tell the nurses. I would eventually become calm, but at that time, nothing could compare to the pain. I was blessed with an abundance of cards, care packages, flowers and above else, love. I had friends that would come and visit and just climb in the bed with me while I was being iced down for my next round of therapy or lying in the traction device. I prayed every Friday,when the insurance had to re-approve my stay for another week, that they would deny me and kick me to the curb. Of course the insurance was phenomenal and they kept giving the high-sign for me to continue. Ugh! However, through the pain and the tears, this is the moment where I realized how different I truly was, how lucky I was to be surrounded by so much love. My hip may be rare and a celebrity on the medical conference circuit, but I had more to offer the world than a copy of my bone scan. This condition wouldn't define me, it would push me through to new levels that I never felt possible.
Monday, December 3, 2012
Part One of Unique Me
As I shared in the opening blog, I was created a bit differently than everyone else, in a way that showed me the world from a different perspective. For those that know me well, you are quite aware of the "special hip" and the journey that it took me on in my younger years. Some of this may be boring reading to you, but you may find some interesting tidbits. For others, this "specialness" played a significant role in my life and still does today. I'll admit that some of these pieces are difficult to recall and this blog would be multiple pages if I did it all at once, so I will break it up a bit. So here's the scoop and how this crazy journey began:
In February 1995, just shy of my twelfth birthday, I finished my tap class on a Thursday evening, but this time something was much different. I had intense pain in my right leg that didn't seem to dissipate with rest, ice or any other typical relieving agent. I attempted my next dance class and by the time it was over, I had to be assisted to the vehicle because my leg really did not want to cooperate. As a nearly eight-year dancer, I was no stranger to pulled or strained muscles, but the pain I was feeling was from from ordinary. Little did I know that this night and this pain would help to carve the path for the remainder of my life.
I limped around on Friday morning and my family decided that a trip to the doctor was necessary to make sure I hadn't caused any damage. Xrays appeared fine, my range of motion was limited (but nothing more than what you would see with a traditional sprain) and everything seemed to be in working order. I was told to stay off of it for the weekend, take stronger anti-inflammatory meds and take at least a week off from dance. Ugh...that was the worst possible thing he could have told me, take a week off from dance, we'll see about that doctor!! Well the weekend of rest turned into the weekend of terror...the pain intensified, walking short distances proved to be next to impossible, and I knew that this was WAY more than a sprain. Monday ended up being a blur...my family doctor started running typical range of motion tests and I had lost several degrees of rotation in a 48 hour period, enough to warrant a special appointment with the orthopedic surgeon. They rushed me for more xrays, took multiple vials of my blood and sat me in a cold and sterile room to wait for the doctor. He had me walk down hallways, measured the lengths of my legs, moved me around like I should be made of rubber. All I could see was him shrugging his shoulders and saying that I would need a full-body bone scan. He asked my Mom to join him in the hallway to set-up my appointment. I didn't learn until later (much later) that when they stepped into the hallway, my Mom was informed that they suspected a rare form of bone cancer and that my prognosis would be grim, most only survive six months. My mother is ONE STRONG WOMAN, because she was nothing but positivity when she came back in the room for the doctor to explain the procedure. I didn't have a clue that they thought my life was hanging in the balance.
A few days later, I show up with most of my family in tow for a full-body nuclear bone scan. That's right, for at least a day, I was glowing! I didn't know that my Mom had arranged with a doctor at our clinic to have my tests read immediately, due to the fear of what they may tell us. Originally they said it could take up to two weeks to hear anything, we heard in less than two hours. When the nurse came in to tell us that the doctor would be there shortly, she happily announced that "it isn't cancer". My Mom and Grandma burst into tears and I am just sitting there, stunned. What do you mean "it isn't cancer, I thought they were looking for broken bones"? Then they shared what the orthopedic surgeon had told them and my heart sunk into my stomach, even though I was elated that I didn't have a six month window to live my life. Basically, the test showed nothing and we were back at square one with a leg throbbing with mysterious pain. The next few weeks were filled with doctor appointments, the evening of my twelfth birthday spent in the Ball Hospital ER and being tagged as some sort of medical mystery. After numerous doctors, numerous tests (including a MRI) and numerous theories, it was decided that I would be sent to specialists at Riley Hospital in Indianapolis.
Riley was nicely decorated as we made our way to "Clinic C", which would end up being my home away from home. Multiple doctors came in to check me out, look at my xrays and talk to me and my family...I felt like a celebrity. I was slightly ticked-off when they decided that I needed to spend the night in order to allow multiple tests to be ran and to enjoy a little bit of physical therapy. Once again, the tests and xrays came back clear and everyone was stunned. One month later, I returned to the "C" and then had the opportunity to meet with Dr. Thomas Kling, an orthopedic surgeon that looked like a skinny version of Santa Claus. My new xrays and a new MRI finally had an answer to reveal (6 months later)...the cartilage had disappeared in my right hip joint and only left a thin film that had kept it rubbing bone on bone. My previous xrays had "phantom cartilage", which was basically fluid that mimicked the look of a normal joint. I was officially diagnosed with Idiopathic Juvenile Chondrolysis.
Idiopathic Juvenile Chondrolysis...say that three times fast. It is a rare joint disorder with no known cause that typically effects African-American females in their twenties. I was only the second case seen by Dr. Kling, the first for many others, and I happened to be the rarest. My crutches now became permanent fixtures (I was told to become non-weight baring immediately), I had to sleep in a special traction contraption and my bedroom had to be moved to the dining room of our home because I was no longer able to maneuver the stairs to my 2nd floor bedroom. This tap-dancing, tennis playing, pre-teen was now a research study and medical lab rat. Just when I thought that this was the worst of it, the saga continued...
In February 1995, just shy of my twelfth birthday, I finished my tap class on a Thursday evening, but this time something was much different. I had intense pain in my right leg that didn't seem to dissipate with rest, ice or any other typical relieving agent. I attempted my next dance class and by the time it was over, I had to be assisted to the vehicle because my leg really did not want to cooperate. As a nearly eight-year dancer, I was no stranger to pulled or strained muscles, but the pain I was feeling was from from ordinary. Little did I know that this night and this pain would help to carve the path for the remainder of my life.
I limped around on Friday morning and my family decided that a trip to the doctor was necessary to make sure I hadn't caused any damage. Xrays appeared fine, my range of motion was limited (but nothing more than what you would see with a traditional sprain) and everything seemed to be in working order. I was told to stay off of it for the weekend, take stronger anti-inflammatory meds and take at least a week off from dance. Ugh...that was the worst possible thing he could have told me, take a week off from dance, we'll see about that doctor!! Well the weekend of rest turned into the weekend of terror...the pain intensified, walking short distances proved to be next to impossible, and I knew that this was WAY more than a sprain. Monday ended up being a blur...my family doctor started running typical range of motion tests and I had lost several degrees of rotation in a 48 hour period, enough to warrant a special appointment with the orthopedic surgeon. They rushed me for more xrays, took multiple vials of my blood and sat me in a cold and sterile room to wait for the doctor. He had me walk down hallways, measured the lengths of my legs, moved me around like I should be made of rubber. All I could see was him shrugging his shoulders and saying that I would need a full-body bone scan. He asked my Mom to join him in the hallway to set-up my appointment. I didn't learn until later (much later) that when they stepped into the hallway, my Mom was informed that they suspected a rare form of bone cancer and that my prognosis would be grim, most only survive six months. My mother is ONE STRONG WOMAN, because she was nothing but positivity when she came back in the room for the doctor to explain the procedure. I didn't have a clue that they thought my life was hanging in the balance.
A few days later, I show up with most of my family in tow for a full-body nuclear bone scan. That's right, for at least a day, I was glowing! I didn't know that my Mom had arranged with a doctor at our clinic to have my tests read immediately, due to the fear of what they may tell us. Originally they said it could take up to two weeks to hear anything, we heard in less than two hours. When the nurse came in to tell us that the doctor would be there shortly, she happily announced that "it isn't cancer". My Mom and Grandma burst into tears and I am just sitting there, stunned. What do you mean "it isn't cancer, I thought they were looking for broken bones"? Then they shared what the orthopedic surgeon had told them and my heart sunk into my stomach, even though I was elated that I didn't have a six month window to live my life. Basically, the test showed nothing and we were back at square one with a leg throbbing with mysterious pain. The next few weeks were filled with doctor appointments, the evening of my twelfth birthday spent in the Ball Hospital ER and being tagged as some sort of medical mystery. After numerous doctors, numerous tests (including a MRI) and numerous theories, it was decided that I would be sent to specialists at Riley Hospital in Indianapolis.
Riley was nicely decorated as we made our way to "Clinic C", which would end up being my home away from home. Multiple doctors came in to check me out, look at my xrays and talk to me and my family...I felt like a celebrity. I was slightly ticked-off when they decided that I needed to spend the night in order to allow multiple tests to be ran and to enjoy a little bit of physical therapy. Once again, the tests and xrays came back clear and everyone was stunned. One month later, I returned to the "C" and then had the opportunity to meet with Dr. Thomas Kling, an orthopedic surgeon that looked like a skinny version of Santa Claus. My new xrays and a new MRI finally had an answer to reveal (6 months later)...the cartilage had disappeared in my right hip joint and only left a thin film that had kept it rubbing bone on bone. My previous xrays had "phantom cartilage", which was basically fluid that mimicked the look of a normal joint. I was officially diagnosed with Idiopathic Juvenile Chondrolysis.
Idiopathic Juvenile Chondrolysis...say that three times fast. It is a rare joint disorder with no known cause that typically effects African-American females in their twenties. I was only the second case seen by Dr. Kling, the first for many others, and I happened to be the rarest. My crutches now became permanent fixtures (I was told to become non-weight baring immediately), I had to sleep in a special traction contraption and my bedroom had to be moved to the dining room of our home because I was no longer able to maneuver the stairs to my 2nd floor bedroom. This tap-dancing, tennis playing, pre-teen was now a research study and medical lab rat. Just when I thought that this was the worst of it, the saga continued...
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Sexy...it's a state of mind!
Good morning from the confines of bed rest...not exactly the way I had planned to spend my weekend, but figured I had better listen unless I wanted to spend more than a few days completely out of commission. However, sickness is not going to be the topic at-hand today (sigh of relief, I know), we're going to touch on a far more attractive subject...sexiness :) I'll admit that the song "I'm Sexy and I Know It" is running around my head like a hamster on a wheel, so pardon any references to the lyrics.
I don't think any of you reading this need the traditional definition for "sexy", and much like myself, you probably equate it with the attractiveness of a person, an attribute or an action. Sexy legs, sexy mama, the way she twirls her hair is so sexy...you know what I mean! However, there is a whole layer of sexiness that we often don't consider; self-confidence, loving yourself and having that sexy state of mind. Sexy is WAY more than a perfect body, gorgeous legs or a cutesy habit. YOU determine whether you are sexy or not, yes I said YOU! Society has tried to define this term with superficial meaning, but it really inhabits so much more.
During a random conversation with a friend, we were discussing the qualities he was looking for in a potential mate. After reviewing the list, I made a comment that there weren't any physical attributes mentioned and wondered if those were something he simply kept to himself or was potentially afraid he would offend me with statements such as "cute rear" or "killer abs". After continued conversation, he enlightened me to the fact that physical attraction is necessary, but his list of qualities far outweighed the need for someone that fit the societal definition of "sexy". "Nicole, sexy is a state of mind, not a physical attribute". Ta-da, light bulb on, smack back to reality...there we have it, sexy IS a state of mind!
For the majority of my life, I've never fit any type of traditional mold that would qualify me as sexy. Society has attempted to teach me that being overweight, slightly nerdy and a fairly free-spirit makes me a card-carrying member of the loser club...oh think again! I've been blessed to grow-up in a family that embraces beauty from within, compliments uniqueness and NEVER made me feel anything but beautiful! Without really being conscience of it, I had embraced the sexy state of mind! I may be overweight and different, but I AM SEXY (and so are you, by the way). I may not have the body of a model, I like food WAY too much for that, but I still have features that I find to be gorgeous. Society can be such a hateful entity that it makes us feel wrong if we don't live up to its standards. Trust me, you're more in the right if you throw it's standards to the curb and just live your life!
By now, you may be questioning me and thinking that the "sexy state of mind" is a bunch of bologna, but let me share this story with you and see if it changes your mind, even a little bit. About four years ago, I was in New Orleans for a work-related conference that crammed about a month's worth of material into a two-day event, needless to say we were all frazzled. On the second day of break-out sessions, I woke up early enough to have a bit of me time before the events of the day were to begin, which was a nice way to clear my head and get mentally prepared. Before heading to the session, I happened to glance in the full-length mirror before exiting the room and smiled at myself...nothing especially different about me on that day, but seeing myself smile made a huge difference. I thought I looked amazing and that was all that mattered. There was an extra pep in my step and confidence that I couldn't hide. I took my place in the hotel conference room with other colleagues from all over the United States and began to chat with one of my local cohorts as I was getting my notebook prepared when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a woman behind me that had been in most of my break-out sessions and was far from prepared to hear what she was about to say. "Ma'am, I don't mean to sound awkward, but you are strikingly beautiful...your smile radiates and you have captivating confidence." I was speechless! I mustered a "thank you, that was so kind" and couldn't wipe the smile off of my face for the rest of the trip. I had embraced a love for myself and someone else noticed...how cool is that!
So here is your challenge for the day: go find a mirror and look in it. Not a quick glance, but study yourself. NO NEGATIVE COMMENTS!!! Do you have a wrinkle? So what, it's from laughing too much. Oh your boobs have sagged? Maybe it's because they sustained life for your children. You aren't too sure where the six-pack is? It just means that there is more of you to cuddle. Don't get caught up in the societal framework of sexy, get caught up in your own unique sexy! Embrace you, all of you, and let the world see that "you're sexy and you know it"!!
I don't think any of you reading this need the traditional definition for "sexy", and much like myself, you probably equate it with the attractiveness of a person, an attribute or an action. Sexy legs, sexy mama, the way she twirls her hair is so sexy...you know what I mean! However, there is a whole layer of sexiness that we often don't consider; self-confidence, loving yourself and having that sexy state of mind. Sexy is WAY more than a perfect body, gorgeous legs or a cutesy habit. YOU determine whether you are sexy or not, yes I said YOU! Society has tried to define this term with superficial meaning, but it really inhabits so much more.
During a random conversation with a friend, we were discussing the qualities he was looking for in a potential mate. After reviewing the list, I made a comment that there weren't any physical attributes mentioned and wondered if those were something he simply kept to himself or was potentially afraid he would offend me with statements such as "cute rear" or "killer abs". After continued conversation, he enlightened me to the fact that physical attraction is necessary, but his list of qualities far outweighed the need for someone that fit the societal definition of "sexy". "Nicole, sexy is a state of mind, not a physical attribute". Ta-da, light bulb on, smack back to reality...there we have it, sexy IS a state of mind!
For the majority of my life, I've never fit any type of traditional mold that would qualify me as sexy. Society has attempted to teach me that being overweight, slightly nerdy and a fairly free-spirit makes me a card-carrying member of the loser club...oh think again! I've been blessed to grow-up in a family that embraces beauty from within, compliments uniqueness and NEVER made me feel anything but beautiful! Without really being conscience of it, I had embraced the sexy state of mind! I may be overweight and different, but I AM SEXY (and so are you, by the way). I may not have the body of a model, I like food WAY too much for that, but I still have features that I find to be gorgeous. Society can be such a hateful entity that it makes us feel wrong if we don't live up to its standards. Trust me, you're more in the right if you throw it's standards to the curb and just live your life!
By now, you may be questioning me and thinking that the "sexy state of mind" is a bunch of bologna, but let me share this story with you and see if it changes your mind, even a little bit. About four years ago, I was in New Orleans for a work-related conference that crammed about a month's worth of material into a two-day event, needless to say we were all frazzled. On the second day of break-out sessions, I woke up early enough to have a bit of me time before the events of the day were to begin, which was a nice way to clear my head and get mentally prepared. Before heading to the session, I happened to glance in the full-length mirror before exiting the room and smiled at myself...nothing especially different about me on that day, but seeing myself smile made a huge difference. I thought I looked amazing and that was all that mattered. There was an extra pep in my step and confidence that I couldn't hide. I took my place in the hotel conference room with other colleagues from all over the United States and began to chat with one of my local cohorts as I was getting my notebook prepared when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned to see a woman behind me that had been in most of my break-out sessions and was far from prepared to hear what she was about to say. "Ma'am, I don't mean to sound awkward, but you are strikingly beautiful...your smile radiates and you have captivating confidence." I was speechless! I mustered a "thank you, that was so kind" and couldn't wipe the smile off of my face for the rest of the trip. I had embraced a love for myself and someone else noticed...how cool is that!
So here is your challenge for the day: go find a mirror and look in it. Not a quick glance, but study yourself. NO NEGATIVE COMMENTS!!! Do you have a wrinkle? So what, it's from laughing too much. Oh your boobs have sagged? Maybe it's because they sustained life for your children. You aren't too sure where the six-pack is? It just means that there is more of you to cuddle. Don't get caught up in the societal framework of sexy, get caught up in your own unique sexy! Embrace you, all of you, and let the world see that "you're sexy and you know it"!!
Thursday, November 29, 2012
In the beginning...there were labels.
I had started this section of my blog a few weeks ago to blow-off some steam and as an extension of blog work in one of my graduate courses, but I think it is time to take a different approach. If you follow me on facebook, I am going to use this blog to share my story...what makes me unique and common all at the same time! It took a friend that recently heard my "whole" life journey that encouraged me to share my path with the world! So, here it goes...
I was born in the early 1980s to a fairly traditional family: high school sweethearts that had been married for a few years, working in small-town USA and making their own way in the world. The only thing that made us fairly non-traditional...my Grandpa was Mayor of our quaint little town, which gives you a bit of celebrity status (not really, it just makes me sound cool). I grew up in the public spotlight, didn't mind addressing a crowd by the time I could talk and learned that politics would always play some sort of role in my life. I am the oldest (and most special) of two children and must admit that I played the part of big sister quite well. I tattled, made a mud pie and convinced him to take a bite, and screamed like a girl if he even looked at my Barbie house set-up; you know, typical sibling love! But don't even think about picking on my brother, that's my job, and I'll smack you ten shades of sideways if you mess with him :) We were a fairly normal, average American family. So what makes my journey so different from everyone else? I'm not your typical, run-of-the-mill girl; I was created in a unique way that allowed me to look at life from a fairly different perspective. There are many layers to my uniqueness, some more complex than others, but all of them have played a role in where I am today.
I was chubby (still am), tormented for being chubby, a head taller than most for the majority of my life, contended with a rare hip disorder that left me as a case study for the medical books AND I marched to the beat of my own drum. Yes, my OWN drum! Why would I want to march to the beat of someone elses, especially if they were unkind? I am not saying that I am blameless and have never been unkind to someone, I have, trust me. But why continually remind someone that their feature/action/quirk that differs from your view of social normalcy is not only different, but makes them less of a person? Did any of my quirks impact their life? Nope! Did their stupidity impact mine? Yep!
Seriously...is someone less of a person because they don't fit a cookie-cutter mold? No way! Granted, it is MUCH easier to accept my social abnormalities as an adult than it was as a child, but I like the fact that I am different from most. However, society doesn't seem to be able to exist without labels. I may be successful, good looking (so full of myself), educated and an active community member, but it is obviously some type of miracle because the label of "fat" proceeds all of that. And I love when people seem somewhat shocked when a plus-sized woman walks in somewhere in a stylish outfit, or anything other than a tablecloth for that matter, and makes comments like "she's a big woman and still can look classy"...seriously? My skinny friends are stylish too, imagine that, skinny people have class. Chubby people have class. Anyone that wants to can have class. Wow...such a novel concept :) Though labels do not stop with the weight issue, never has and never will. One of my all-time favorite "label moments" happened at a regionally located hospital when a male volunteer was escorting me to a conference room for a meeting. He apologized for walking so quickly and stated that working in a health care setting makes you fast-paced, even when it isn't necessary. I explained that I understood because I was married to a nurse. The man stopped dead in his tracks, spun around towards me faster than the speed of light, raised his eyebrows and squawked "a male nurse"? Well yes, the last time I checked, he was a male and why does it matter if my spouse is male, female or an alien species? I don't know if he was more shocked by the fact that a male was a nurse or the potential that I was in a relationship with a female. However, he made his judgment, hurriedly walked me to the conference room and left without saying another word. Yes, I am well-aware that nursing is a profession dominated by females, but the male population within the field is growing. So is it necessary to use such gender-based terminology? "Male nurse"...he also drives truck, so is he a "male truck driver"? When that terminology is used, I really want to be like yes, he's a nurse, a nurse with a penis. Wouldn't that get me some funny looks?
Take a moment and think of a time where a label impacted you in some way. Was it a label placed on you or one you placed on another? We all have done it, I am guilty too. Maybe you glanced over an amazingly pretty/handsome person because they were a little overweight and your friends MIGHT tease you. Maybe you decided not be friends with the art major because they are thought to be too "out there". Maybe you stayed away from someone that believed in a different religion, because you knew that they would try to convert you. Now, find an opportunity to remove the use of negative labels in your life, do not let them define you. You can call me fat, more power to you, but there is a WHOLE lot more to me than just some extra cells. I'm a curvy, vivacious, compassionate, trail-blazing, fun-loving female. Lose the labels, love the person!
I was born in the early 1980s to a fairly traditional family: high school sweethearts that had been married for a few years, working in small-town USA and making their own way in the world. The only thing that made us fairly non-traditional...my Grandpa was Mayor of our quaint little town, which gives you a bit of celebrity status (not really, it just makes me sound cool). I grew up in the public spotlight, didn't mind addressing a crowd by the time I could talk and learned that politics would always play some sort of role in my life. I am the oldest (and most special) of two children and must admit that I played the part of big sister quite well. I tattled, made a mud pie and convinced him to take a bite, and screamed like a girl if he even looked at my Barbie house set-up; you know, typical sibling love! But don't even think about picking on my brother, that's my job, and I'll smack you ten shades of sideways if you mess with him :) We were a fairly normal, average American family. So what makes my journey so different from everyone else? I'm not your typical, run-of-the-mill girl; I was created in a unique way that allowed me to look at life from a fairly different perspective. There are many layers to my uniqueness, some more complex than others, but all of them have played a role in where I am today.
I was chubby (still am), tormented for being chubby, a head taller than most for the majority of my life, contended with a rare hip disorder that left me as a case study for the medical books AND I marched to the beat of my own drum. Yes, my OWN drum! Why would I want to march to the beat of someone elses, especially if they were unkind? I am not saying that I am blameless and have never been unkind to someone, I have, trust me. But why continually remind someone that their feature/action/quirk that differs from your view of social normalcy is not only different, but makes them less of a person? Did any of my quirks impact their life? Nope! Did their stupidity impact mine? Yep!
Seriously...is someone less of a person because they don't fit a cookie-cutter mold? No way! Granted, it is MUCH easier to accept my social abnormalities as an adult than it was as a child, but I like the fact that I am different from most. However, society doesn't seem to be able to exist without labels. I may be successful, good looking (so full of myself), educated and an active community member, but it is obviously some type of miracle because the label of "fat" proceeds all of that. And I love when people seem somewhat shocked when a plus-sized woman walks in somewhere in a stylish outfit, or anything other than a tablecloth for that matter, and makes comments like "she's a big woman and still can look classy"...seriously? My skinny friends are stylish too, imagine that, skinny people have class. Chubby people have class. Anyone that wants to can have class. Wow...such a novel concept :) Though labels do not stop with the weight issue, never has and never will. One of my all-time favorite "label moments" happened at a regionally located hospital when a male volunteer was escorting me to a conference room for a meeting. He apologized for walking so quickly and stated that working in a health care setting makes you fast-paced, even when it isn't necessary. I explained that I understood because I was married to a nurse. The man stopped dead in his tracks, spun around towards me faster than the speed of light, raised his eyebrows and squawked "a male nurse"? Well yes, the last time I checked, he was a male and why does it matter if my spouse is male, female or an alien species? I don't know if he was more shocked by the fact that a male was a nurse or the potential that I was in a relationship with a female. However, he made his judgment, hurriedly walked me to the conference room and left without saying another word. Yes, I am well-aware that nursing is a profession dominated by females, but the male population within the field is growing. So is it necessary to use such gender-based terminology? "Male nurse"...he also drives truck, so is he a "male truck driver"? When that terminology is used, I really want to be like yes, he's a nurse, a nurse with a penis. Wouldn't that get me some funny looks?
Take a moment and think of a time where a label impacted you in some way. Was it a label placed on you or one you placed on another? We all have done it, I am guilty too. Maybe you glanced over an amazingly pretty/handsome person because they were a little overweight and your friends MIGHT tease you. Maybe you decided not be friends with the art major because they are thought to be too "out there". Maybe you stayed away from someone that believed in a different religion, because you knew that they would try to convert you. Now, find an opportunity to remove the use of negative labels in your life, do not let them define you. You can call me fat, more power to you, but there is a WHOLE lot more to me than just some extra cells. I'm a curvy, vivacious, compassionate, trail-blazing, fun-loving female. Lose the labels, love the person!
Sunday, November 11, 2012
The world is a stage and I intend to use it as such! My name is Nicole and I am your run-of-the-mill nearly thirty-something professional that is trying to make the most out of life...which leaves a lot of questions and ideas to ponder. This past spring, I decided that my life needed a little more spark, so I made the decision to go back and pursue my Master's degree in management...what a choice! I'm learning to balance the delicate harmony of work, family, school and community. This blog will be a place where I express my thoughts, frustrations, ideas and general random comments. I hope you enjoy joining me on this journey they call life :)
Blessings,
Nicole
Blessings,
Nicole
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