That last post.
frickitty-frakkity.
Since I have last written, my Birdy and Pearl both have been diagnosed with the same thing I have. I just can't even. There is something heartbreaking in a 10 year old crying real tears over a toasted bagel that she can't have, because gluten.
Bagels and doughnuts... there really isn't any kind of decent GF substitute for those two items. I have decided that GF stands for GrieF.
Yeah... guess I'm not really ready to write about all of those changes and struggles just yet.
I am pondering lately about heartbreak, pain, and struggles. I mean, I have my fair share, but I know many people who have dealt with worse and ARE dealing with worse. It isn't a competition, and I'm not interested in laying my heart out right this minute, but I tell you, my struggles are making me brittle where I had thought I would be strong.
Which makes me feel like the biggest weenie. Makes me think about the book A Town Like Alice. The start of the book chronicles a bunch of European women and children in a seven month long forced march from one part of Malaya to the other at the start of WW2. Along the road a goodly number of women die off from one thing or another... many just aren't hardy enough physically or mentally.
I used to think of myself as tough. Now, I am pretty sure I would be numbered among the women who just couldn't hack it.
Bah.
