Gluten Ain't For Me...doesn't mean it isn't for you.

Ha, if anyone knows me they know I am a MAJOR pizza and pasta lover. BUT, as of lately that isn't the case... I have been reading up on the "gluten free" epidemic. And yes, it is an epidemic. One that genuinely irritates me to the core when I see people going "gluten free" because I want to be healthy, but still stuffing their face with a fat potato or even some damn good Tillamook cheese.

People that have heard; read; seen celiac/gluten intolerance are taking it in as an entire diet. People that want to get ahead of obesity are cutting things out. And I get it. It's good to cut the carbs from your diet. BUT. Did you know that if you were actually to talk to a doctor, nutritionist, or even GOOGLE it...you would probably only be told it's good if you have Celiac to cut out gluten entirely? Do you know what Celiac is? What it does?

I am using Wikipedia University, so bare with me...but it sums it up in the best, but it's the most blunt way for my readers to understand. If you follow Wikipedia's link to--Coeliac disease, you will get a very different view on what gluten may do to one's body.

Did you know your loved ones, from this disease can end up with colon cancer? Stomach ulcers? IBS? Colitis?

I don't want to be the ass that is saying you are going gluten free and don't even experience diddly shit with what it actually does...I just want to be the ass that's factual and lets you know PERSONALLY what this intolerance and disease may cause.

I was first introduced to "gluten free" when I was in 4th or 5th grade. My mom was officially diagnosed with Celiac after extremely difficult years trying to figure out what was knocking her down. I remember, once she was diagnosed, she couldn't eat my birthday cake or traditional birthday pizza, she had dreams about delicious treats--and I couldn't do a damn thing to help her But, I had to remind myself where she was WHEN she was consuming these products that were poison to her body. I remember her being extremely sick (still experience this) if ONE little particle of gluten gets into her system. It isn't a fad for everyone. It's an actual way to stay alive. The same way people who are allergic to bees carry an epi pen, we have to avoid gluten.

I never thought I would have to experience this tragic thing. No more pizza after a drunken night of Coug Football? No more taking whiskey shots at the bar? And dam, I can't even have a regular cheesecake at my own wedding????

Remember those nights drinking in college? Waking up the next morning with an extreme hangover? Headache, nausea, etc? Or when you are sick with the flu...migraines, bone aches, can hardly function on 14 hours of sleep?? Guess what a gluten intolerance can do to you? Same shit, different story. And guess what going gluten free, if you aren't diagnosed can do for ya? Make you damn sick. It is all in moderation.

And IF you are reading this, you know I am so blunt, to the point where I say things I shouldn't. But guess what? I am writing this because I am annoyed and concerned. I am writing this because, tonight I am wide awake--puking my guts out, with a rash that makes me look like I rolled in poison ivy for 6 hours straight and a headache that won't go away. All because I took a SINGLE shot of whiskey and ate a cheeseburger on a bun (I have no self discipline). I wanted to test it, I am still in disbelief. But here I am, sick, overwhelmed and already running on two hours of sleep since this happened TWO days ago.

Don't stop your little body from eating gluten, unless serious things arise. Don't stop living because you want to be healthy. There are MANY other ways to go about the healthy. I am telling you from research, experience, and just plain annoyance...you're doing more harm than good.

Love you lovas.

K. Huck (I know, no more Lemanski. But Huck is WAY cuter and WAY happier. ;) )

Happy Holidays

The most wonderful time of the year, the time of year when everyone comes together and talks about their own year. But to some, this is a time of year that you are reminded about the important lives that are not around. The lives that have touched you in so many ways, yet you no longer get to feel their presence. All good things must come to an end, yet, these people should not have.

Every year the second October hits, waves of emotions flood my mind; anger, sadness, happiness, and guilt. I am reminded of the people that I do not get to share these next precious few months with. I am faced with the ending of another year, and start of one, without them. I feel guilty because while they are in a better place, I feel like I am enjoying so many things without them. I get to see their families grow, create new goals, and accomplish new things.

So many things can be said, but as we are all taught, we must push through and put on that happy face. That isn't always as easy as it seems. When I think about Halloween, Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years--one name is constantly in my mind: Mema. These were the months that I always spent the most time with her. The months that my Mema was able to be the wife, mother, and grandmother she was born to be. The treats, the laughs, and the warm hugs that were always there. She loved the holidays (even when she complained). Our family was always united in her presence, and now we must do this without her here.

She isn't the only one that comes to mind. Many people are experiencing the same feeling. The emptiness and the odd quietness of their own homes. Homes that were once filled with their spirits and laughter. Holidays don't quite have the same ring to them as you get older and are able to realize these things. Holidays are more of a reminder, a reminder of the people you are missing out on.

The thing that keeps going is the thought of them. They would not want this. So, while we have our moments of sadness. We must also have our moments of happiness. The happiness of the moments we once shared with them. The thought of their laughter and excitement, and most importantly--their love. Because their love was the most important thing.

Keep your chin up darling, everything will be alright.

Ray of Sunshine

When I sit down and reflect on my life, I have a tendency to think of all the people that taught me to smile. Not just a smile that a person might wear to cover something up...but an actual, genuine smile. And in the process of this, you came to mind.

I remember sitting with you up at Nana and Papa's. I had tagged along with Mema for one of your card nights. Sassy was in the living room, Papa Murphy's in the oven--filling the house with its delicious smells--you were sitting on my right hand side, and Harry on my left. Mema was making faces at us from across the table. All I remember hearing was laughter; SO. MUCH. LAUGHTER. It is a memory that sets well in my head.

You have always been one of the happiest people I know. And looking at it now, I realize that you too have influenced me to be a happy person. Although our time spent together was near and far between,  it was always so important to me. YOU were always so important to me.

The road to loss is never an easy one. Especially when it is a person so full of light as yourself. There will not be a day that goes by when you are not on someone's mind. There will not be a day when someone thinks of your laughter and smile. The amount of love you have spread on this earth will always be remembered. The stories you told, and the gospel you preached so well. You knew where you were going, and I am so happy you get to be there.

Although it is hard for us to accept you are gone. Just remember Aunt Bonnie, you are loved.

Everlasting Weekend

Dear Weekend,

Please don't go away. 
Stay. 
Forever. 

Thanks. 


Isn't that we are all saying when Sunday night rolls around? I mean, when you think about your greatest moments, they all occur during the weekend. A time when you are so free, you feel like you can fly. There are no fears for what's to come. At least, that's how it is for me. Then again, I am a college student.

The weekend for me always extends into the week though. I try not to let that freedom go. I take care of my responsibilities and then I am back at! But I have always been told I am quite the free-spirit.

That's how I want to live though. Free. I don't ever want anything to hold me back. I want my life to be lived to the max. I want the feeling of random outings. Friends calling me last minute with plans. I want to see everything there is to see. I want to feel everything there is to feel. I mean, what is there to really fear? Nothing.

If I am living a life of fear, then I am simply not living. I don't want to always be regretting the choices that I make. I will make some choices that maybe I shouldn't. But hey! I have to live with it.

I feel like if we all lived our lives like an everlasting weekend, we would all be so much happier. There are always going to be responsibilities, but why can't we be positive about it? We are all so damn blessed it's ridiculous. If we all felt as happy and fearless as we did on the weekends then, shit. Life would be bliss.

It's so strange, because so many people are negative about the things they shouldn't be. And what's the point? Just live life. Be happy. Be free. Be the weekend.

Acceptance

I may not be the same size I was a year ago, or even last week. I may not have the same thoughts, opinions, and mindset either. I may not even be the person I once was. But who is to say I am not myself?

I remember that image, whether it be body or personality, was never a thought that crossed my mind. That was until I walked into a place where I was surrounded by "girls" who were constantly concerned with what they looked like.

So why is it, that society tries to tell me different? Why is there this burning desire for everyone to be the perfect person. What is the perfect person? Does that exist? Probably not. But humans feel, naturally, they need to out do the next. Women are constantly pushing themselves; they diet, workout to unnatural extents, turn their bodies into what they think is "beautiful."

Why does the perfect person have to have a perfect body? Why can't it be someone who is motivated to be the best they can be, or have a wonderful personality? I will tell you why. Society tells us in order to be beautiful, your body needs to fit the part. This, this is wrong.

It isn't so much a bad thing that people want to live healthy lifestyles, but where is the line drawn? There is a difference between being healthy and obsessing over it. We weren't created to have flat stomachs, toned arms, a nice ass. We were created to live. To survive. Image is just something we do to occupy our time because we are so unhappy. We look at the person we want  to be. Not the person we already are. And that, is just sad.

I was raised in a family that taught me I am who I am. If people cannot accept that then, well, fuck them. I have always been confident in myself. I have never cared how people think or what they look at me as. I am myself. That will never change.

I have learned that even though I may be surrounded by all of these people that are so consumed with their thoughts of needing to be the best, I am the best. In my own eyes, I am the best. I work hard everyday, I give my all (well for the most part) to the things I need to, and I feel like my body was and is the way it was created to be.

I accept myself.

So, I challenge you. To wake up everyday with a new mindset. Ignore what society tells you to think. YOU are already the best. You are a person full of opportunity, challenges, and perfection. You are already the perfect person.

Closure.

Cancer. It was just a word to me in the beginning. I had seen what it could do to families, to people, to lives. It hurt me to see that people had to actually go through that, and what it did to them. I saw what people looked like when they had to go to chemo, radiation. I saw them hooked up to machines to help them breathe. I knew it could happen to anyone in the world. But I never expected it to happen to her.

I remember hearing that she was going to the hospital, because she couldn’t take the pain anymore. I remember hearing that she needed to find out what was wrong with her so she didn’t have to suffer anymore. I thought it would just be something with her diabetes, or with her gall bladder. But when my parents called me out to the living room, I knew it was something more. Then they told us kids, right there on the couch. “Mema has cancer.” It was a simple phrase, very short. And it cut through me like a knife.

She was always the strongest person I knew, so I thought she would just fight it off; like how she fought with everything. She fought her diabetes, the flu, a cold, her husband, her kids, her grandkids, everything. She was just a strong willed woman.

The next day we all got in the car, and headed to St. Joe’s to see her. What I was expecting wasn’t what I saw. When we got there, everyone was crying. I walked in to her room, and immediately started crying. She was hooked up to all of these different machines; she had tubes in her nose, IV’s in her hand. It was the real deal. She didn’t look like the strong woman I knew, she was still Mema; but in a different form. She was sick, couldn't walk, and could barely speak without her voice cracking. Her hug wasn’t strong, it was weak.

She went to have a CAT scan to see exactly where it was at. I remember the nurse taking my grandfather around the corner to tell him with my Uncle. She told him it was Pancreatic Cancer, it had traveled to her lungs, liver, and we eventually found out it had traveled to her brain. I remember watching my Papa collapse. He too was a strong man, I have never seen him cry or show any sort of sad emotion. Watching him cry like that hurt. I became angry at God, and at the world. I kept asking myself “Why her, and why us?”

Mema was moved to a much larger room because of how many people were coming to visit. Everyone knew in their heart, she wouldn’t last long. I didn’t believe that though, I was still the girl who thought her Mema could fight off everything, I had my hopes raised high. That week and a half she was in the hospital was hard. I remember walking in one day, and seeing her cry in her sleep. That image will always be with me.

She was still her goofy self in the hospital, didn’t want the doctors to see her butt. She still made jokes to everyone, told us all we were silly. Everyone did everything they could to keep her happy. But she also said her goodbyes, told us all she loved us with everything she had. She was giving away her dolls. And as selfish of me as this may sound, I was in a way upset with her, angered. I felt like she was giving up, she wasn’t doing what she should have to help her stay. I realize now, that she wasn’t doing it on purpose; but that a part of her knew it was her time.

When she was finally able to go home, she was extremely ill. She was delusional, and made stuff up. She had to take all these different medicines, and was on an oxygen tank. Exactly what I saw other people going through. It was hard for her to breathe. But Mema was still there, she was still ornery and said things that most people wouldn’t dare to say. She was different, I will say that. She couldn’t take care of herself, she needed help being bathed, going to the bathroom, all of that. She didn’t have much of an appetite, in all reality; she didn’t have much of anything left in her.

August 30^th, 2011. At around 3:40 in the morning, my parents came in to my room, and turned on the light. I thought it was them waking me up for school. Then they said it, “Mema passed away.” Another simple and short phrase. But it too, cut through me like a knife. Only this time, I felt like it cut me repeatedly.

I went back to bed after a little while; I was still in shock so I hadn’t cried yet. Until I laid in my bed, and her voice say my name. I bawled for the rest of the night, until we had to get up to go to her house. We all got in the car again, only this time it was different. Nobody talked, everybody was quiet. Except the noise of sniffles and the sounds of cries.

We arrived at her and my Papa’s house. We walked in, and that’s when my emotions overflowed me. I don’t know why, but I had to walk in to her room, sit on her bed, and touch the spot where she laid one more time. After a few, I walked back out to the living room where all of my family was. I sat down in her chair and cried to myself. I looked up at my mom, who was in her dad’s arms, and I saw her struggling to hold herself up. That’s when I realized, my families, and my rock is gone. She wasn’t there anymore to hold us up. We were on our own for a change. The pastor came over for a prayer, and left.

The next week was hard. Getting ready for her service, struggling through all of the emotions we had, writing her obituary, and realizing she wasn’t there to help. We all had to come together as a family. I decided that I would be the one to make her slide show, I felt like that’s what she would want me to do. I chose to go to school the next day, I needed to do that for her and me.

The day of her service finally arrived. I woke up that morning knowing that it was time to really say goodbye. I knew it was time for me to realize she wasn’t there. She wouldn’t be there to see me graduate, graduate from college, get married, have babies, none of that. I didn’t cry all morning getting ready for it. Then I walked in to the church, I saw all of the pictures of her and I and broke down. I too needed some ones help holding me up so I didn’t fall to the floor.

Her service wasn’t long. The church was full of all the people that had loved her, and wanted to be there for us in this hard time. We all gathered after for lunch and to watch her service video. I got up and attempted to read a letter I had wrote to her the day she passed away. I got through the first 3 sentences, looked up and realized she wasn’t there watching me, I saw all of the people crying. Then I started bawling. Jill came up and helped me read. We stood there together, crying, and reading my letter. The service video turned out better than I could ever have imagined it. Towards the end, all of us grandbabies released our balloons. We each wrote a letter to Mema and attached it to them. We watched them go up, up, up, until they disappeared.

It was hard in the beginning, but the real hard part was just about to start. For the months following, we all had to cope in some way. We all were brought close through this. Thanksgiving came, it was usually held at Mema and Papa’s, but this year it wasn’t. We had a large gathering at my Great Grandma’s. Everyone was there for one purpose, to in some way be close to Mema.

Christmas Eve came. I think this may have been the hardest holiday yet. We all tried to follow tradition for this holiday. We went to Nana’s again, had soup and sandwiches, opened presents, laughed, shared stories, and went to church. You could tell the feeling in the house and around everybody was different then it normally was. Even though there were all of those people, the house felt quiet. It was missing the loud laugh, and catchy sound of Mema’s voice. Church was different as well. The last time I sat in those pews before the service was with Mema, and we were laughing and giggling just like we always did.

Christmas day didn’t have the same excitement it always had. I had fallen asleep Christmas Eve without the butterflies in my stomach. I woke up that morning, and instead of waiting for Mema and Papa to arrive in order to open presents, we just dove in. We didn’t have breakfast at our house either. After all of our presents were open, we got our shoes on and went to Papa’s for breakfast. We went to be with him for the morning, and open the gifts he had bought for us.

As a family, this has made us all grow closer together. As individuals, the outcome is different. For me, I am doing okay. Some days I think about her a lot, and others I know she is looking down on me and is proud of the granddaughter she has raised. I know that the 16 years I had with her were a blessing, I know that only the best of us get to go home early. As hard as it has been for me to let go of the woman I have grown so close to, the woman that has been my best friend for as long as I can remember, I know it was for the better. And that she is healthy and happy where she is.

I pray daily that my family will be okay. I pray for my Papa, and that he can heal. For my mom, that she knows Mema loves her and his still holding her hand. For my siblings, that they know Mema wants the best for them. For my two young cousins that didn’t get as much time with her, that she is still right by their side making memories with them. For her parents, that they know she loves them dearly. For my Uncle Josh and Aunt Mandi that they know she is proud of the things they have done and the daughter they are raising. For my Aunt Jamie, that she knows Mema loved her more than she could imagine. And for the rest of my family, that they all know, she is right by their side. She loves us all dearly, and will always be there for us. Even if she isn’t here physically, she is still somewhere closer. In our hearts. Guiding us to where we need to go.

Love you Mema.

Reality

Reality is something nobody wants to have to face, but when you have to, it hits. It hits you hard, like a ton of boulders falling down on you. You don’t know what to say, to do, to think, nothing. You feel lost, and you keep looking for something to take you away from it.

This week has been one big reality check, from realizing that some of my closest friends are going off to college in a few months. To realizing that in just a few months, I’m on my last leg of high school. It’s going to be my last year as a Clarkston Bantam.

From registration, to taking SAT’s to make sure I’m on track to graduate, and to start my life as a young adult. Soon, I too will be on my way to college; leaving my old life behind, to start a new one. A life that will help me learn and succeed in the biggest reality of all. Life.

For a Junior in high school, who still needs her mom to take care of her when she’s sick. It’s scary. I guess part of growing up is realizing the reality of things. There are the bright sides of it, but there are also the negative.  The way you chose to take it, is the way your life will be.