Disabled?!

I had to fill out paperwork for disability.

I have finally come to the conclusion that life is what it is. For right now, whether for another season or two, or for the rest of my life, I am physically compromised and do not have the capability of leading a normal life filled with activities that most do without thinking.

I have dealt with some of my anxities of being sick and disabled. Being able to even refer to myself as disabled has taken a few years and many many tears. After all, no one aspires to or longs to be deemed disabled.

Only after exhausting all other resources, routes of healing and ways to get better, did I finally seek help with finances and sought disability payment from the government. Whether or not, they deem me eligible for financial assistance is yet to be determined.

But, the road to the decision has been a long and frustrating and hurtful road sometimes for me. Most of all when I was sent a packet to fill out. My only concern when I saw the packet and details involved with the uncertainty of could I fill out from a physical and mental capacity.

Little did I know or realize is that this packet, filled with questions from the state, would take me on a journey that I was obviously not ready to emotionally deal with.

Question one: Name. So far, so good. Question two: when did your disability begin. Long story. But clear. Question three: How has this impacted your life? Not so simple. It has affected it in EVERY WAY! Question four: How does your life now differ from the one you lead before? At this point, I was in tears. Not just a single drop or two lightly dropping down my face but the tears that make your face swell, turn bright red, cause your eyes to puff and requires utilization of an entire box of Kleenex.

Tears fell so hard and fast that I could not write. I didn't know what to do. How do I adequately record what a day was like three years ago compared to what my daily routine consists of these days. I tried to take a deep breath and fill out the questions. Everything has changed.

Previous to my disease/illness/complications, I worked full time. I drove Hayden to school. Dropped him off. Worked hard all day making big financial decisions. I balanced over 30 different bank accounts that moved money all the time, with checks and acquiring and selling land and homes. I could recall the balance in each, sometimes down to the exact penny. I knew what had been paid, what was outstanding, which properties were owned by which companies and more. After a long day of juggling work, I left to pick Hayden back up. That is where my daily life really began... grocery shopping, making dinner, completing homework, reteaching school subjects, cleaning the house, church responsibilities and callings, emotionally listening to Hayden, supporting Thomas, welcoming all children into my home whether for an hour or weeks, organized, blogged, went out on dates with Thomas, played with Hayden, ran errands and the list goes on and on. Simply, I was a mom and a wife, a friend and a daughter, a sister and an aunt and a daughter of God.

Fast forward to today. My life has drastically changed. The things I took for granted, such as waking up, walking to the bathroom, brushing my hair, getting dressed, breathing, controlling my heart rate, coping with excrutiating pain, dealing with coma symptoms, trying to digest food and struggles, I took for granted. They were automatic, not something I even thought about. I now struggle to just exist, survive, from the moment I wake up until sleep finally comes in the night. The cycle repeats. There is no driving, no errands, no cooking, no cleaning, no dates, no going out, no freedom to do it all. I simply spend all efforts to do the things that most do not think about.

The paperwork forced me to take a good hard long look at my life in a way that I have purposefully avoided for almost three years. I had to face the facts. I had to come to terms with all the things I have lost. Many, many tears were shed.

Most of all, when the question came, "List all ways in which you are no longer able to be a mother." Devastation followed. In the world's eyes, I am no longer capable of being a mother. This was the hardest realization or struggle of all. Prayers and tears were mixed to the Savior. For comfort, understanding, love and peace. It came but not right away. I had to deal with my loss. I had to come to terms with it so I could again move on and fight to live.

It brought me back to the gospel, as everything does. What does being a mom mean? Does it mean tying shoes? cooking a meal? dropping a child off at school? Or being the one to attend to the physical needs of my son?

Or, does being a mom mean teaching them where to turn during trials? Showing him how to persevere? Being an example of not giving up? Of finding strength in our Savior? In learning to rely completely on our Savior for everything? Teaching him where to turn when all is lost or looks hopeless? How to kneel down and really talk to our Father in Heaven and older brother, Jesus Christ? To make them the focus in our lives? How to feel the Holy Ghost? How to listen? How to love? How to submit willingly to all the Father asks?

Both. The answer and conclusion I came to, is that both roles are vital to the role of mother. Mother is sacred. Mother is the God-like power to create life. To love unconditionally. To teach and to love.

Motherhood is a divine calling. A blessing.

And, just because I can no longer do the physical things to mother, I can completely teach and exemplify the qualities required to return to our Father in Heaven. Interestingly enough, when the physical abilities were no longer available for me to utilize, I became a better mother in the spiritual and emotional ways.

The paperwork was one of the hardest trials I have been called to bear yet. It tore me down. It made me really even doubt if I should keep fighting to live and keep holding on. After filling it out, I found myself wondering if I was even worth the air I was breathing. I felt so useless. So much of a burden to all around me.

I am so thankful for a loving husband. He put his arms around me, he hugged me, he reassured me that I am worth the breaths that I take. That I do still matter. That I do make his life and Hayden's life better by continuing to fight to live. He reassured me that I am still a mother. That my divine roll has not changed. That the values that I am teaching Hayden are just as critical as the food he eats. He offered the sweetest prayer. That our Savior would wrap me in his arms and let me feel the love that others have for me. Peace came and then slumber.

Without prodding or any encouragement, my dear boy, without knowing my inner turmoil, woke up in the morning, put his arms around me and told me how grateful he was that I continue to fight to stay with him. He added that although I couldn't take him to school or do fun things with him, that he loved that I was always home, waiting for him. Always there ready to listen about his day, his struggles. That I always had time for him.

What a tender mercy from my Savior. He prompted my son to voice how he felt. He allowed my heart to be touched by my husband, my son, my Savior, my sister, my friends. Within a 24 hour period, I received more texts, more calls, more hugs, more comforting words, cards in the mail and reassurance that I mattered. That my life was worth continuing to fight for. That my being here, even in the disabled body that my spirit is housed in, is enough. Me. Right now. This condition. I am enough.

I sincerely hope I never have to fill that paperwork out again. I pray the outcome will be worth it and we get the financial help that we so desperately need. But when I look back and remember the awful and horrible days of filling out the paperwork and feeling my own weaknesses, I will immediately be comforted with and grateful for all those that reached out to me, to comfort and show love to me, even when they did not understand how much I needed them.

And, yes, I do absolutely believe that I am a mother. Wife. Friend. Sister. Daughter. Servant of the Lord. Despite a disabled body, my spirit knows I am a daughter of God. My spirit has been made strong during this illness. All that I have lost physically has been regained spiritually.

I will continue to fight to live. I will continue to fight to get better. I will continue to live the life that my Father in Heaven and Savior have granted me. I will be grateful for just being able to still be here with those I love.