When you believe in magic...

The Power of Prayer and Healing 

I want to tell you of a miracle because I believe that miracles are to be shared. To uplift the spirit, to give inspiration and hope to those that need it. To spread love and faith that things will get better in times of need. 

Miracles happen in the smallest and biggest ways, in any case they are undeniable and in my opinion, cannot be called anything less than what they are. 

I experienced a miracle this morning. 

This is my story. 

I had somewhat of a strange weekend. The week has been hard since I returned from Alberta. My body did not respond well to the 12hr travel in the vehicle and much of the week was spent being sore, and in pain. School was hard to sit through because my sores were sticking to my clothes and my face was really inflamed. The medicines my Kokum had sent home with me seemed to be the only thing that was helping. 

By the time I came home from school on Friday, I was physically and emotionally exhausted. 

The weather seemed to match the consistency of my mood, and all weekend it rained and rained and rained. I spent the weekend wearing long skirts and baggy shirts, remembering what my Kokum said. "Your skin needs to breathe."

I did the little housework I could around the house, and kept busy with my homework assignments. I kept up with drinking the medicine tea my Kokum sent home with me, twice a day, smudging every morning, and having medicine baths every other night. 

On Sunday morning, Michael and I went to church. Being back home, I felt great comfort in attending church with my family and I felt that it would be good to attend church in Vancouver. The church we attended was a good church, though it felt as though something was missing. Maybe it was the dynamics of the people from back home. I expected to hear someone rejoice with a "Amen!" or "That's right!" like my Uncle Peter does. 

When the choir sang, I expected to hear the harmony of everyone joining in, singing their hearts out like they do back home. I expected to hear laughter and joy. 

What I heard was silence. Yawning. Boredom. 

I left feeling somewhat disappointed. I left feeling unfulfilled. It did not deter me from wanting to go to a different church this weekend. I talked to my Kokum about it and she said, "You'll know when you're there. You'll feel peace." 

I noticed that since I've been back home, my prayers are a little different from what they use to be. I missed the presence of Jesus in my prayers and in celebration. I never stopped believing in that aspect of my spirituality and belief in Creator, but I noticed that I stopped acknowledging him. I am not entirely sure why, especially because they are many oral accounts in First Nations cultures around Canada and the United States that talk about Jesus visiting them.  

When I smudge and pray now, I acknowledge him. I not only feel a difference in how I feel but I also feel as though I am honoring the other side of my family and the teachings that they have given me. As my friend Char said it, "Your expanding. You're spirit is craving more." 

I think it's more that I am finally putting the two parts together, where they belong. 

As I mentioned in my previous blog, I have never had the experience of seeing my mom's family and my dad's family in one weekend. The experience of that has given me the wholeness of who I am in such a rare perspective, that I don't think I could have asked for it to be more clear. 

Now.. for the miracle. 

Sunday night my sister came over to visit. We talked about the visit back home, we talked about Grandma, and we shared stories about the family. It was great to spend a rainy evening with her, sitting on the couch drinking coffee and laughing. 

I was still feeling quite sore, though I was happy to hang out with my sister. It was the simplest of moments but it brought the most comfort over the stormy weekend. 

That night before I went to bed, I did my normal ritual of drinking my tea and washing my face with the medicines. I lay down in bed, say my prayers and go to sleep. 

Just before six o'clock this morning, before my alarm went off, I felt myself start to slowly wake up. I was in and out of sleep, fighting to keep my eyes closed because I knew that it was way too early. I felt a weird sensation on top of me. There was a huge weight and pressure on top of my stomach, as if someone had placed something incredibly heavy on me. 

I moved my hands on top of me to feel what it was. It was a bear's head. It was massive. I could feel the hardness of it's skull under it's fur. I couldn't believe how big it was, it felt as though my hands were spread so far from each other as I moved my hands around feeling as much of it as I could. It didn't move. It just laid on top of me, I could feel the warmth radiating from underneath its thick fur. 

All of a sudden I heard Michael's voice, "Babe, I'm turning on the light." 

I felt the light hit my eyes and I slowly opened my eyes, I could still feel the massive bear on top of me. When I opened my eyes, my hands were on my stomach. My fingers spread wide apart, as if I was holding on to something so big. 

I looked a Michael, "There was a bear on top of me." 

He smirked, "A bear?"

"Yeah, I think I am going to start getting better really soon." 

He laughed and continued to get ready. 

As I got up, I prepared myself for the soreness and the sticking of the sores to my clothes, as I do every morning. Though this morning, I got out of bed without any pain at all. My clothes did stick a little, but there was no pain. I didn't have to slowly pull away my clothes   from my wounds. I felt incredible! 

I sleepily walked into the washroom, I looked down at my legs. My sores were all scabbed over. The skin turning pink, and healing. I looked at myself in the mirror. My nose! My nose is healing! I couldn't believe it!

"Michael! Look at my nose!" I yelled, freaking out. 

He came rushing over and looked at me. His eyes went wide in exclamation. 

"Whaaaat!?!" he said staring at me in disbelief. 

He took a step back.

"You're weird!" 

I just stood there staring at myself with a sleepy, goofy smile on my face. 

Michael stared at me, shaking his head in awe at the complete transformation from how I looked before I went to sleep the night before. 

"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" That is all I could say all morning. 

For the rest of the day, I've been feeling great. I even wore jeans today! My skin hasn't been sticking to my clothes. I can walk normally without being pain. I feel so incredibly blessed today. 

My appointment with Dr.Yu is tomorrow, I can't wait until he sees how much as changed. 

I know that there has been so many people praying for me and I can't thank everyone enough for their love and prayers. 

I've been given a gift of faith that things are going to be just fine, and I am incredibly grateful for the grace of God my Creator, my ancestors, my spirit helpers, those who prayed for me and, of course, Jesus. :) 

The bear spirit in my culture is the spirit of healing, bear medicine is one of the most powerful medicines.

This is me as of today. I felt it was good to show the comparison of what my nose looked like before (on the left) and what I woke up to this morning (right). 

Kinanaskomitin nimunito, nimosom, nohkom. muskwa muskigi <3

"thank you creator, grandfathers and grandmothers, bear medicine."

A miracle. Nothing short than what I had this morning.

Love Conquers All

The love of your Best Friend

The moment I knew Michael was going to be the person I would love for the rest of my life is when we first started dating and he told me that I was a woman that deserved to be loved. As soon as we started talking to each other I knew that Michael was cut from a different cloth. The biggest attribute about him was his kind heart. He has the kind of heart that shines through his eyes when he smiles. I quickly realized that he was one of the most genuine souls that I have ever met. 

Michael is the type of person that helps when he sees people that are need, whether that be buying food for someone that is hungry, helping a woman carry her heavy groceries, or buying his Dad a new truck so that he would have something safe and reliable to drive around.  He always treats people with the utmost respect and never makes anyone feel less than what they are. I love that he is accepting of all walks of life. Gender, race, culture, religion, sexual identity or preference does not stand in the way of him getting to know who someone truly is. 

There is much that I have learned about life, love, and myself by being with this man. When you are with someone that is right for you, life doesn't change. You do. You change how you see your life and what you see as important and valuable. Michael changed my perception on life because I knew that I wanted to build a life with him. 

We have challenged each other throughout our relationship. I pushed him to his boundaries and he pushed right back. There were times when all we did was fight and drive each other crazy, though for whatever reason, we never gave up on each other. We always came back to the drawing board and tried to figure out what was wrong and what we could do to help each other and our relationship. That is the thing about life and love that we don't get a lot of lessons on, life and love are not perfect. They are not meant to be. Life and love are meant to challenge you, push you, and help you to grow. It took me awhile to realize that relationships are not all about the love letters, the passion, and the connection. It's not about being crazy about that one person, or giving all that you are to make that person feel loved. Its about working together, communicating, treating each other with respect, honoring the other person's life and where they come from, and knowing how to grow and walk together. 

When people look at Michael and I and say, "You guys are the perfect couple!" 

I smile and I reply, "Trust me, it's a work in progress." 

I am comforted in knowing that Michael and I will always have things to work on in our relationship because it reminds me that we are individuals and if there are not things to work on in our relationship than that means that we are not growing as a couple. The more that we grow, the closer we become. Life will throw us obstacles, and I know that sometimes it will be hard because we've had hard obstacles to overcome already, but I see how we have worked out things together and I know that our love and our life together will stand strong because we believe in it. 

When I talked to my Grandparents about their marriages each of them said the same thing,

"It takes work." 

When Michael and I got married, on the day of our wedding everyone kept asking us if we were nervous. 

"Are you nervous?"

"How are you feeling?"

"This is it you know!"

My thought process was, if I'm nervous about marrying this man, I'm in the wrong relationship. The day of our wedding I felt so calm and relaxed. I felt happy and content. I felt reassured that I was marrying the best man in the world. I was going to marry my best friend. 

Michael is not only my husband, he is my best friend. He is the one person that knows me through and through. He has seen me at my strongest and my weakest points. He has seen the worst and best sides of me, my temper and my love. My jealousy and my insecurity. Through everything he has only loved me more. Just as I have loved him more through his faults. We changed ourselves by loving each other unconditionally, and by encouraging each other's dreams. To never knock each other down, but to help ourselves be strong by believing in each other. 

When this skin disease was dragging me down, Michael showed as much strength as he could in me. Even though I knew that he was frustrated to see me in pain all the time and wishing that he could take it away in an instant. Through all of this he has been nothing but patient and loving with me. Always knowing just what to do and say to make me feel better about my circumstance. 

When my face was really bad, I was feeling sorry for myself one day, wanting it to all go away. I would stare at pictures of myself, wondering if I was ever going to look the same again. 

Not a moment later, I caught Michael staring at me with that goofy smile of his. 

"What?" I asked slightly annoyed. 

He smiled, "I just love you is all."

"Yeah, you love me and my gross face?"

He laughed. "Babe, I don't see the sores on your face, I just see you."

That was all it took. I didn't feel so bad anymore. 

When I was back home, I told my Aunty Lorna how great Michael has been through everything and how I didn't know what I'd do without him. She tapped her wedding band with her finger and said through a smile and misty eyes, "That's what this is all about. Through good and bad, sickness and health." 

Things have changed since I have been diagnosed with my skin disease. Michael and I can't wrestle and play with each other like we use to. We couldn't sleep in the same bed as each other. We haven't been able to cuddle. We haven't been able to hike or go biking around the city. Our tickling matches have been replaced with taping up my bandages. With all the 'can't's you would think that things would be hard on our relationship right now. Though it is the exact opposite. We laugh. We talk. We go on our little walks, even if it is not very far or  that we have to go really slow,  if anything walking slowly has allowed us to really appreciate the time we have together. We've developed new weekend traditions, like going out for breakfast on Sunday mornings, drinking coffee and eating pancakes making each other laugh. I know that I am blessed to have Michael as my husband, not only because of the amazing and wonderful person that he is, but because we are perfect for each other. 

 My body is slowly starting to get better, and I can see the light at the end of what seemed to be such a dark shadow. I know that I didn't do this alone, through all the stumbling and crying and frustration of being in the dark, Michael was right beside me, holding my hand and telling me that we were going to get through this. 

Yes, the love of your best friend is something special and different. It is a person that falls in love with the idea of you, was attracted to you by your attributes and gets to know you through your faults, and at the end of it all chooses to love you unconditionally. It is the person that sees you the way you will never be able to see yourself, beautiful and imperfect, and yet perfectly made just for them. 

"Never in front of you, or ever behind you. Always beside you."

"Look, in my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you, the right person is still going to think the sun shines out your ass. That's the kind of person that's worth sticking with." -JUNO 

Why Family Is So Important

Family: The foundation of life. 

    I have always enjoyed the drive from Vancouver to Alberta, though, this particular trip home was with a heavy heart and not too much excitement. A funeral is never the best circumstances for a visit. Since I found out that my Grandmother was dying in hospital and since she passed away, my skin problem has been the last of my worries. As my instructor at school said it, "You're arranging the pots on the stove." 

    I was worried about my Mom, it breaks my heart to know that her heart is hurting. I was worried about by sister and that she was having to grieve for my Grandma without her family because she couldn't make it for the funeral. I was worried about my brother because I know he doesn't deal with people passing away very well. My heart and my head worried about the ones that I loved. I couldn't bare to know that they were in pain. 

   There is something about Alberta that changes something inside of me. Maybe its the thick forest of pine, birch, and spruce trees that stand strong on either side of the road that gives me some sort of comfort. Or the openness of the vast prairie sky, with the living clouds and the bright colors that lets me know Creator and my ancestors are watching over me. In any case, I feel a sense of home and belonging when I see these things. 

 As I pulled into my Grandma's house, it felt different. The house itself even looked different. It was a reminder of how long it has been since I was last at Grandmas house, and that made me sad. I walked into the house and was comforted by the old familiar smell, and the comfort of the warmth that Grandma's house always gave me. Inside the house was almost bare, as if Grandma already knew to start giving her things away. It was still Grandma's house, just much more simpler. My Mom gave me her famous hug and kiss, and I instantly felt better. A mother's touch is so gentle, and simple yet so fulfilling and lasting. I breathed a sigh of relief and was glad to be home with my Mom. 

 After we finished freshening up, we went over to my Aunty Gail's house. Everyone was at my Aunty Gail's house, and again, I realized how long it has been since I was at her house with all my Mom's side of the family. As soon as I walked in I was bombarded with hugs and hello's and "so good to see you!" I immediately felt loved. In a instant I realized that it didn't matter how long it has been since your family has seen you, they are just as happy to have you around. I talked and laughed, and hugged so many people. 

  We went over to the funeral home for Grandma's wake. There were tears of sadness and joy, and celebration of the beautiful life and legacy she left for us all. We took turns telling stories and paying tributes to the woman who started this all. The celebration of someone's life is so beautiful and bittersweet. 

   The next day was the funeral. I was blown away by how many people were there. It was an honor to witness how many lives she touched with her beautiful heart and grace in God. What an inspiration Grandma was. I gathered so much strength over the weekend, and it made my heart fill with joy to see how many people loved her.  Most of all, I loved that she started such an incredible family and we all carried on her legacy to keep the family going with love for one another. 

  There is something beautiful about family that you can never get anywhere else. With family comes an instant bond, a history. It's the reassurance that no matter what happens or how long it has been, there will always be a story or a memory that someone can share with you to bring a smile to your face and to connect you to them. I appreciate that about family. 

  It was my husband's first time meeting all of my Mom's family at once, although he was overwhelmed with the abundance of them and not be able to remember anyone's name, he loved them. 

 "Your family is so nice!" He kept saying. He marveled at the how big my Mom's family was, and how there was such a extensive record of pictures, and scrapbooks from each family that we all took turns looking at and refreshing our memories. He was astounded by the presence of God in my Mom's family, the prayers and the hymn songs that filled the house. It made me feel so proud to see how my family made such an impression on him. 

  Coming from a mixed heritage of Cree and Irish, I always felt somewhat torn of how to honor both sides. My mom being adopted, there wasn't culturally an Irish influence to grab ahold of. Living on the reserve, I was immersed into my Dad's side of the family and have always identified with myself as being Cree more than anything else. My Mom's side of the family, in one way of describing them, would be religious. They're Christians. I wasn't sure if my beliefs and their beliefs would have any relationship, or at the very least, some sort of overlap. 

  Over the weekend it was apparent to me that what we believe in is in direct relationship to each other. We both have a love and a relationship with our Creator. We both sing songs that fill our spirit with the messages of God. We both attend Church, they just physically look different than one another. When we were at the gravesite, and we each put down a red rose for Grandma onto the coffin, I also offered tobacco to my cousin Clinton who is passed away at the age of 13, his grave is next to Grandma and Grandpa's. I offered tobacco to Grandpa and put it on his headstone, and lastly I offered tobacco to my Grandma and I set it on her coffin. I silently said a prayer to her and just when I was finished I looked up and there were what seemed like a hundred cranes flying in majestic patterns right above us. They flew over us for a few minutes and just as they appeared, they were gone again. If that's not a sign, I don't know what is. 

 The next day I stayed over at my Kokum's house. All the Aunts and Uncles came over to have lunch and it was neat to see the difference and the similarities between my Mom's and Dad's family. My Mom's family was so concerned about my condition, and much of the time I spent was talking about what was happening. They all expressed their love and hope that I would get better, hugging me and offering up prayers. My Dad's side of the family didn't say anything about it, I did talk about it with them but most of the time was talking and catching up. Laughing and teasing each other. Though as everyone started to leave, my aunty, my uncle, my cousin, my Kokum, and my husband went out and picked medicine for me. My Kokum took out her medicines and made me tea, and made me medicines to smudge with. She boiled the picked medicines and she put it on my body.  

 "You wear this Marie," she said and she gave me some of her pajamas. "Don't wear tight clothes, your skin needs to breathe."

 "Here drink this tea, make sure you drink it all up." 

 "Here you smudge with this, smudge your forehead, breathe it in too." 

 She packed a bag of bandages, the picked medicines, and the tea she had made for me. She gave me specific instructions on how to use the medicines, and to make sure that I do what she says. Her gentle but concerning instructions filled my heart with love.  

 It was interesting to see how each family expressed their love and concern, they both made my spirit filled. I left Alberta feeling 100% different than when I had arrived. Anyone who knows me, knows that my family means the world to me. Without them, I am nothing. I love walking into my Aunty Gail's house or my Kokum's house and hearing the busy noise of laughter, and chatter. I love sitting around the table eating dinner, and talking and teasing each other. I love the sound of kids running around and getting yelled at by the parents. 

 There is something about family that recharges you. It makes you strong. Its like they all come in with their love, their playfulness, their laughter and their stories to share with you whatever it is that you need. Family is foundation. They are at the beginning, who is there throughout, and who will be at the end. They are the chosen people that will know you through and through, remembering things about you that you couldn't remember or see in yourself. They are there to love you unconditionally, accepting of you regardless of your faults, your conditions, or your circumstances. 

 I love my family and have the greatest appreciation for all of them. They are the foundation of my life. 

  

     

DAY TWELVE-to-THIRTEEN: GRANDMA'S HOUSE

The most magical place on earth

In all the places in this world, there has never been any place more magical than my Grandma's house. As we would pull into her drive way, it was like we were arriving at a secret place. It was a secret castle disguised as a beautiful, humble home with a simple yard and bountiful garden in the back. Grandma would greet us at the door with a "HELLO!" as if she was laughing the word out of her mouth and I was always amazed how her tiny frame could give you the biggest, warmest hugs in the world. She made you feel like she was saving all her hugs just for you. I've never felt so much love come from one lady.

It was a new adventure every time we went to the secret castle. The excitement of being a little girl going to Grandma's house was like having your own personal fairy godmother. The sweet aroma would fill your nose as you stepped inside. The fresh buns cooling on the stove, and the clean linen smell of the countless of homemade quilts she had made over the years made you feel safe and warm. It made you feel like you were finally home. Grandma had this way of making you a part of her world in an instant.

I loved not knowing what she had in store each time we came to visit, though somehow I was always reassured each visit would be better than the last. Her baking alone was something to marvel at. The homemade cookies, the chocolate batter you got to lick off the spatula when she was done. Her cooking came with such ease, as if she had a thousand different recipes for every occasion. 

The cupboards were always filled with the best ingredients, but the best ingredient of all was her love. Her food was the best because she put so much love and care into it. The fresh garden peas, that we would pick before dinner. Grandpa, and I eating more than we would shell. Fresh carrots and potatoes. My favorite was picking raspberries with her on a hot summer's day and then after dinner she would serve a nice bowl of ice cream with raspberries on top. 

As the sun would go down you could sometimes find her in her sewing room. The humming of the sewing machine filled the house with a peaceful sound. Blankets, dresses, curtains, towels.. she was always making something for somebody. Patterns and patterns of sweet fabric picked out especially for whomever she was gifting one of her masterpieces to. 

She would tuck us snug into bed, sometimes reading us a story followed by bed time prayers. Her voice was as soothing as a hundred angels. Soft and floating like a cloud. A smile always ready at the corner of her mouth. Her crystal blue eyes shinning with love and pride of having you as her grandchild. Grandma made you feel special just because you there, like a precious jewel that she took special care of. 

I loved waking up in the mornings at Grandma's house. The house was warm and alive by the time you woke up, waiting for you to come join in the fun. The warm brown sugar smell of Grandpa's porridge on the stove would sneak up into your nostrils. We would all jump into Grandma's big pillow soft bed, somehow always big enough to fit everybody. Sometimes I thought it must have been a stretching bed because nobody was ever left out. We would all jump into bed with her, and get under the covers, our backs up against the headboard. Then when we were all settled in, Grandpa would come in on cue serving us tea in bed. How did Grandma and Grandpa know that tea in bed is the recipe for the start of a perfect day? 

Although Grandma and Grandpa were well into their years, their home was always made for the wonderment and imagination of children. Toys from the days of their own children were still put into good use. Dresses, jackets, canes, pearls, and funny hats waited to accessorize the perfect character we made up that day. My speciality was to put on plays for her each time I would come. She would watch with such joy and excitement, she was my  audience of one. Creativity and imagination never fell on deaf ears with Grandma. She always remembered the plays you made, the songs you sang, the cookies you baked, the vegetables you picked from the garden, she had a rolodex of memories in her heart for everyone. 

The love she had for her family and for God is what made her world so magical to be in. I don't ever remember being scared in any part of her house, and I don't ever remember wanting to leave the secret castle. My childhood, and I am sure many other people's childhood was filled with such imagination, love, and creativity because of her. 

I will never know how she did it. How she had everything you could possibly need to create whatever was inside your wild child-like mind. How she knew exactly what you needed before you even got there. How could she see everything and all that you are, even at times when you could only imagine half of what you would grow to be. She knew. She knew each and every one of us. 

The magic of her was so rare and pure, as if God had made her in such a way so that he could shine his love through her. She was given a special gift and she shared it with everybody. I can see that magic of her in the people that she loved.

 I can see it in all my Aunts and Uncles with how they love their children and how wonderful of grandparents they came to be. I see it in my brother with how gentle his heart is with his children. I see it in my baby sister and how she still creates a magical world for her friends filled with costumes and characters, even owning a tickle trunk of her own. I see it in my Mom with the countless of scrapbooks, quilts, and no-bake cookies that she sends every year. Always having a project to make for somebody that she loves. I see it in all my cousins, we all have that certain sparkle in our eyes because of the wonderful time we spent with her growing up. The way her gentle hands molded us with the perfect love, teaching us how to love one another.

I see it in myself when I spend an afternoon with an apron around my waist, covered in flour and the smell of homemade cookies fill the air, and yes I still lick the chocolate batter off the spatula. Waiting to share the homemade goodies I baked for the ones that I love.

Grandma's house. The most magical place on earth. A place that is only a moment away because it will forever be in my heart. A place that I will keep alive and bright so that when I start a family of my own I can pass down the same gift that she gave to all of us- Unconditional Love. 

I love you Grandma. Always and forever my Grandma you'll be.

DAY TEN-ELEVEN: PATIENCE IS A VIRTUE?

 PATIENT WITH PATIENCE 

 This past weekend has been a trial of patience for me. When you are on a road to recovery, patience is your friend as well as your foe. Being patient challenges you everyday, and some days are better than others. You get to have the days that I've had over the last couple days and you just want to scream "ENOUGH!" 

For the last couple mornings I've woken up afraid to move too much. I lay perfectly still and I imagine that there are no sores on my body, that when I move there will be no pain. I try to lay there in that blissful ignorance for as long as I can. I take a deep breath and pull myself up carefully. Feeling the tightness around my body, the stinging of the wounds reopening. It makes me cringe. I dread having a shower because I know what pain that endures, and the time it will take after to carefully dry off and then bandage myself for the day.  I've been good at reminding myself to be grateful for the improvement that I have gained thus far, though this weekend it was hard to count those blessings. It has been hard because I feel tired. I feel emotionally, mentally, and physically tired of all of this. 

I miss the normal interactions I have with my husband. I miss being able to cuddle with him. I miss our daily tickling and wrestling sessions, chasing each other around the house. Laughing and falling on the bed. I miss playing with him. I miss riding my bike, and being active. I miss sleeping in a peaceful, comfortable state rather than consciously knowing that I have to move carefully on my side or lay on my back. I miss wearing whatever clothes that I want to instead of having to strategically picking out what isn't going to rub too much on my sores. In short, I just miss being 'normal.'

This past weekend has been a constant reminder to myself of what I DO need to be grateful for. Anytime I was feeling frustrated with myself, I would think of something positive to replace it with.  Yes, I am allowed to feel this way, and I can miss all these things. Its okay to be frustrated at times and to go through the motions. I've been challenging myself NOT to stay in that rut. Not to let the pain get me down. Every time I felt myself feeling impatient with myself and with what seems like SLOOOOOW progress in my healing, I remind myself of what is good in my life and it helps. Within a few moments I don't feel so overwhelmed with my condition. 

The reality of the situation is that I am in a constant state of discomfort. I have a condition that has pushed me to look at how to enjoy the things that I love in a different way. I may not be able to jump on my bike right now and go for an hour bike ride, but I am able to go for a nice walk with my husband and my dogs. I may not be able to ride my bike to school like I've been wanting to, but I CAN go to school and continue with my education. The important thing for me to remember is that 'things' are not being taken away from me... they're just... altered. 

 In any state of recovery, it is important to be gentle with yourself. This weekend was a great reminder that I am going to have moments of feeling fed up and wanting everything to go back to the way that it was. And you know what, thats okay. It doesn't make me any less positive or that I've ruined my challenge. It is imperative that you recognize these bouts of emotions because it means that you are getting through this. You can't stay positive 100% of the time, but you can stay positive 95% of the time. 

I make myself remember the beginning of September and how excruciating the pain was in that first week. I remind myself of the emotional state that I was in, and then I look at how things are today. I remind myself of how far I've come and that things are only going to get better. I just have to be... you guessed it... patient. :) 

The key to everything is patience. You get the chicken by hatching the egg, not by smashing it.
Arnold H. Glasow 
 

DAY EIGHT-to-NINE: THE ART OF SELF CARE

The difficulty in loving yourself

 "PICTURE!" 

Snap. The picture is taken. 

"Lets see!" 

Everyone gathers around to look at the picture. 

"Awe. let's take another one. I look stupid."

Snap. The picture is taken. 

"Okay... ONE more!"

Snap. The picture is taken. 

3 pictures later and there will still be at least one person who is not satisfied with how they look. 

Log on to facebook or instagram and see the album of never ending self promotions that everyone is guilty of. 

The famous 'selfies' in the bathroom, the dreaded duck lips, the 'cute girl' look, the sexy look, the 'high-angled-look-up-at-the-camera-so-I-look-super-thin-look' and of course the 'pretending to be asleep picture.' 

Instead of pictures capturing a moment, we create them and we make damn sure we look good or NOBODY is going to see them. Hours are spent photoshopping, creating the 'best of you.' But what really matters is not how satisfied you are with your airbrushed, insta-manipulated self that you ritualistically exploit on social media. What matters is how many likes or comments that you get. What matters is not what you think about yourself, but what others think of you. Yeah, you may think that you look great that day and a little showing off doesn't hurt anybody but what you really want is the validation from your social networking peers, that yes, you do in fact look good. 

I decided to post a picture of me right here, right now. No make up, skin condition and all. Did you notice the picture at the top? I still added the little 'effects' to it. This picture is the raw picture. Even when trying to be 'real' I still opted for the slight blurred edges and soft candle light effect. Interesting isn't it? 

 Long before pemphigus vulgaris, or even before seborrheic dermatitis, which is a scalp condition that I was infected with a few years before that caused my hair to thin out extremely at the top, I could always see things about myself that needed to be different, or better. 

I was never thin enough. I didn't have beautiful, thick hair. I wasn't curvy. I wasn't sexy. I wasn't a show stopping type of girl.

Of course, I never thought of myself to be completely unfortunate looking, and we all love at least one thing about ourselves. But there lies the problem. Shouldn't we be able to love countless of things about ourselves, why does it have to be at least one? Why should the love of our hair or our eyes be written off because we really HATE our thighs? You got the best full lips in the world? yeah, but did you see the muffin top you have? Girl, you better be working on that. 

Even when I dressed up and I knew that I looked good, and I could see people staring at me, I hated it. Why?

Because it was instantly put into my brain that they were not looking at me because they thought I looked good but because something must look wrong. What a self destructing battle I was fighting. It was a battle I would never be able to win. I was constantly comparing myself to other people, and I was never good enough for myself. I call this self abuse, and it's something that so many of us are guilty of, but nobody will address it. Go into your facebook account or your instagram, and look at your pictures. How many are actual REAL pictures of you? No posing, no duck face, no manipulations. You, raw and real. Are you comfortable with having a picture of yourself up on your social media that doesn't portray a perfect version of yourself? How many times have you untagged yourself because you look ugly? 

I am not pointing fingers or saying everybody is guilty of this, but I am generalizing this point because I see it in most of my friends on facebook and I see it in myself. 

My friend Char picks me up for school each morning, because I can't walk too long or take transit at the moment. Each morning we check in with each other and talk about how things are going. The other morning we were talking about how my skin is slowly starting to look better. I laughed while telling her how I never realized how pretty I actually was. She stopped laughing and looked at me as if almost bewildered or slightly insulted. 

"whaaaaat?" she asked in a drawn out, 'you've gotten to be kidding me' tone. 

"yeah, I know." I said sheepishly. "I never really appreciated what I looked liked. I always compared myself to other people. Now I look at pictures of myself and it makes me shake my head. There is nothing wrong with the way that I look." 

"Oh, Toni, toni, toni." She said shaking her head. "You are a beautiful woman." 

In my head I thought, "but it doesn't matter who thinks I am beautiful, it will never really be true unless I believe it." 

"No wonder why you are going through this, " she said "You've been needing to see what you've always had." 

I know some people wouldn't agree with that, but there is truth in what she said. I do see what I've always had and now I need to do something about it. 

Loving ourselves is the hardest and most difficult thing to do because we are not taught how to do this. Mainstream american society will never have commercials or ads on how you are perfect just the way you are. You are always going to be told to buy something in order to gain something, or buy something in order to lose something. Tuck. Suck. Nip. Tighten. 

So not only do I have to start telling myself the truth about beauty and love, but I also have to defy what millions of other people are told what beautiful is. The truth about beauty and love: neither can be bought. What is beautiful is self worth. What is love is self respect. When you see someone who truly loves themselves there is no denying what that person has: confidence. 

The art to loving yourself is going to come with a little bit of practice. After all, look how we are programmed every day to think otherwise. 

1. Positive affirmation: tell yourself something positive each and every day. 

2. Look at yourself and say you love yourself. It sounds silly and it will feel awkward at first but if you say it each day, you will believe it.

3. When you feel people are judging you, smile at them. Often what we think of how people are perceiving us it is really a reflection of how we are looking at ourselves. Smile at people- they will smile back. 

4. Take real pictures! Before the day of digital cameras we took pictures to celebrate moments, not to manipulate them. 

5. Compliment yourself and others. Say something nice about the way you look each day, and compliment other people. What goes around comes around. 

6. SELF CARE! Treat yourself right. Exercise, meditate, get plenty of rest. Take time to enjoy yourself and the things that you love! 

Just remember that sometimes the people that we think have it all are the ones that are struggling the most. Marilyn Monroe is a profound example of someone who never believed she was good enough. We look at her and we celebrate her art, her beauty. She will forever be a icon. Though she was incredibly insecure. She died without ever feeling truly loved.

The greatest validation comes from yourself, it won't matter what other people tell you unless, you yourself believe it. 

These are pictures I found over the years that capture real moments

Two years ago during a spring walk on the beach

Shortly after Michael proposed to me on the beach

 Last year, Family pictures after our wedding ceremony

Christmas morning when I was 16. My sister and I checking out my new guitar

Three years ago. Friday night debauchery. 

My brother and I, four years ago at a family bonfire. 

One of my favorite pictures of all time: My baby sister and I sharing a moment. 

“To the people who love you, you are beautiful already. This is not because they’re blind to your shortcomings but because they so clearly see your soul. Your shortcomings then dim by comparison. The people who care about you are willing to let you be imperfect and beautiful, too. (20)”
― Victoria Moran, Lit From Within: Tending Your Soul For Lifelong Beauty

DAY SEVEN: The most significant week in my life

A WEEK HAS PAST... 

 I can't believe a week has past since I started this emotional healing journey. A week filled with laughter, anger, tears, confusion, hope, doubt, faith, and determination. An emotional roller coaster some may choose to describe it. I would describe it as a brush fire. 

 My mushum(grandfather in cree), would light a brush fire each spring. He would burn the grass right down to the ground, leaving a smoldering, black looking yard when he was done. Our land on the reserve always looked so ugly each spring, as if the people driving by on the highway would think that after the snow melts on the reserve, all that is left is black soot. This is what he called 'spring cleaning.' 

 "You have to maintain the ground, " he would say pointing his finger in such a way to emphasize what he was saying. 

 "Yep. You gotta get rid of all that dead stuff ya see?" 

 I would always just smile and nod. Two weeks later our grass was the greenest, it grew the fastest and our yard was one of the best yards on the reserve. 

 "All that dead stuff has gotta go. So the new seeds can come up. You gotta take care of the land, so it can take care of you." 

 A brush fire. That is how I describe this week. I am burning away all the dead stuff inside me. Cleaning my mind, body and spirit so I can plant new seeds. I feel different, and I see things differently. The biggest thing I notice is how calm and content I am. Yes, I've had my moments of being frustrated and upset but I don't feel hopeless anymore.

 My friends and family have noticed how much I have changed and their affirmation has led me to keep moving on. I believe that success and happiness cannot come from one person alone. It is in part because of the people you choose to surround yourself with. They are part of your success, and they become a part of your happiness. There are people that you meet in your life that share the same struggles as you, and the inspiration and support you give each other helps in the way you choose to see your life, and your situation. 

 In class today we did a ten minute session of art therapy. Our assignment is to draw a picture of something significant that has happened to you in your life. Then to share it with the class. This is what I drew... 

  This is the road I am traveling on right now, for whatever reason or lesson I am to learn from this 'disease' is unknown at the moment, but it is what I choose to accept as a journey. 

One side of the road is absolute destruction. The storm ripped through, flattening the trees and flooding the soil. It took everything that I knew, twisted it up and spit it out. 

All I ever recognized as being 'normal' or 'stable' was gone in an instant. 

  On the other side of the road is my light. My warmth. My spirit. My family. My friends. My heart. My strength and determination. My light pours onto my road and brightens everything, even the storm. 

 I am the flower that grows from the cracks. Just like nature I am resilient. I can push through things that are said to be 'set in stone.' From the darkest shadows can come something new and beautiful. 

 In the horizon is a broken hour glass, because I refuse to live my life on measured basis. We waste time. Have too much time. Not enough time. The right time and the wrong time. Measured time and wasted hours and minutes are said to be things that we can never get back. 

 I don't believe in living my life by measured time. I choose to live my life through change. Change of the seasons. Change in the stages of our lives. We are dubbed as creatures of habit, and even taught to fear change in our lives. Yet, we prove time and time again to adapt in the face of adversity.  Change is what makes you grow.  "Its never too late to change." 

 "You know the great thing, though, is that change can be so constant you don't even feel the difference until there is one. It can be so slow that you don't even notice that your life is better or worse, until it is. Or it can just blow you away, make you something different in an instant." -LIFE AS A HOUSE