Flying High: The diagnosis

 The Diagnosis

30,000 feet in the air. I am barely conscious but the anxious feeling took over any other fear and emotion I may have had. I packed and slept and slept for the two hours to the airport. My mind was numb and my body just went with the motions. I fought hard to keep it together. My purpose of this trip was to say good bye to my gorgeous daughters and do a will leaving then to my mother. The air grew thin and I dosed off into a deep sleep the rest of the flight, how am I ever to say good bye to my most precious creations. How can I teach them a lifetime of lessons in such a short time? I was heading home with a broken heart. Will that be the last time I hold them and see their smiling faces?

Saying good bye is never easy. How do you prepare to say good bye to the ones you love the most? I almost did it and I still don’t know the answer. My girls had gone to live with my mother in Chicago. I had gotten to the point in my illness that left me unable to take care of them or myself. I knew I was dying, I was not confident the doctors would discover why in time. Years of feeling miserable led to a quick decline in my health. Within months I was bed ridden and had lost 40lbs. One doctor insisted it was all in my head, that I was too young to be this sick. Another doctor fought and fought. She finally figured it out. I had gone to Chicago to say good bye to my daughters and parents but instead I received a call from my doctor that had changed my life by saving it.

My phone rings as I sit on the couch in the living room of my mother’s house; my girls cuddled under my arms. I hesitated answering it, not to lose that precious moment. It said Prescott, AZ on the screen and I thought perhaps it was my doctor so I reluctantly answered. It was and what she said next is why I am still here. I said hello and immediately I hear her panicked voice on the other end. “Eva, you’re still alive, thank god!” she exclaimed. Not exactly what you expect to hear your doctor say. I got off the couch and walked to a quieter room. I listened to her talk about my AM cortisol draw and how it was zero. She said she sat at her desk going over the test, a dozen times and the number still hadn’t changed. She consulted another doctor and they both agreed that I should not be walking around, none-the-less getting on a plane and flying to Chicago. My mind was spinning; I could barely process what she was saying. Adrenal glands, cortisol, dying…..what? I was so terribly confused. “I don’t know how you got on that plane and made it to Chicago alive Eva,” my doctor frantically said,” but you need to have someone take you to the ER right now, don’t wait another second, you don’t have many of those left.”

I dropped to my knees and tears started to stream down my cheeks. Finally an answer! I was shocked, elated, relieved, scared and many other feelings all rolled into one giant emotional ball of distress. My mom asked what was wrong and I explained some of what my doctor had said between the sobs and just deep brain fog. I called my best friend Brett and told him to come to my mother’s house and that I would tell him more on the way to the ER. It was Saturday night and I was dreading going in. I just knew it would be packed and I would be sitting and waiting for hours if not all night. When he arrived at the house we prepared a bag with books, extra clothes and snacks. I hugged my girls tightly and told them I would be back soon and that the doctors were going to make me better. Out the door I went.

I decided to go to the University of Illinois at Chicago. It’s a good teaching hospital in the inner city. As we drove I told Brett what the doctor told me. It was all starting to make sense now. I immediately started looking up adrenal insufficiency and Addison’s disease and reading about what the symptoms were and treatment options. I did not want to set foot into an ER without first knowing what I was dealing with. I’ve had too many doctors almost kill me. I was wary of all doctors and the medical system as a whole. The system that let me get to the point of almost dying and called me crazy didn’t leave me with much trust or confidence, I was anxious to walk through those ER doors. I am still not confident in our medical system, but since then I have found a few doctors that amaze me. There are a few good ones out there.

I walked into the ER, it was crowded and loud. My anxiety levels shot up. I wanted to turn around and go home. I wanted to be home with my girls, not wasting time here. My anxiety as a whole has been a huge problem, in some ways I thought I was going crazy, what else could explain the debilitating brain fog, insane anxiety and panic attacks? I was soon to find out that having adrenal glands that do not work at all can cause all this and more. I wonder how many psychiatric patients are misdiagnosed each year with depression, bipolar, anxiety and anorexia because doctors do not think to do a simple blood draw. The man at the front desk of the ER wore a dark blue security shirt and a face that depicted pure and utter boredom. He instructed me in a mono toned voiced that I should take a number, be seated and wait to be triaged. As soon as my butt hit the seat a nurse called my number. I walked over to the triage unit and told her my story, I told her what my doctor said and she took my vitals. I don’t remember my blood pressure but I know it was very low. She had a worried look on her face. They put me in a bed and hooked me up for an EKG. Before this was even complete an endocrinologist had been paged and was standing at my bedside.

He was smiling and asked for my story, I retold it, as much as I could. He laughed and said I have made this very easy on him, there was no figuring out, I came in with answers. I was transferred to the endocrine floor and the tests began. My AM cortisol was zero again and I miserably failed my STIM test. I had a crowd of endocrine students asking for my story and symptoms I felt like a broken record. Finally, the head of the whole department came in and her and my doctor who refused to leave until I was stable delivered the news. I was given an IV and 100mg of solucortef. I didn't remember the last time I felt so well. They shook their heads and told me it was a miracle that I was alive. I replied with I am the most stubborn person you will ever meet and I wasn't ready to die. They laughed and said there is no other explanation. Then I received the whole take these pills twice a day and give yourself time to recover. It’s almost a year and my life is nowhere near normal. It was still amazing. I had answers and new hope. I had a chance to live and watch my girls grow and be there for all the little and big moments in their life. They wanted to keep me in the hospital for a few days but I begged to leave. It was Mother’s Day and I was determined to celebrate this special day with my babies, the reasons I wake up each morning no matter the pain. A mother’s love is deep and unbreakable. Happy Mother’s Day, I was allowed to go home.

I was thankful to have a name and a treatment for what has spent destroying me heart, mind, body and soul. I had a chance to live again. At the time I didn't realize how difficult this journey would be. I’m still falling, but I keep getting up. A few days after treatment began I started feeling like my old self again. I traveled, climbed and adventured the rest of the summer. Yet, this will be where my story will continue. My adventures with Addison’s disease. First adventure was getting on a bus and taking my children to the zoo. I could walk and think again. I truly believed in my heart that life was finally getting better. Challenges have come up but I have many tales to tell. I am no longer dying; I am living, one day at a time. I must thank my dear friends and new family on a support site for people with adrenal insufficiency. The people at Living With Addison’s Disease taught me so much about this disease and have been a massive support. Sometimes we lose a piece of ourselves only to find greater pieces that that are amazing. I am a lucky girl. Mother’s day was spent quietly with my daughters, and I cherished every moment. Life is beautiful and I will never forget that.

Ps. All the pictures taken shortly after diagnosis. I am fighting daily to regain myself.

Surviving the Storm

Me at a healthy weight before diagnosis.

              

           The clouds come rolling in; big, dark, and ominous.  My mind is in the middle of the storm, it blows in wreaking havoc on my body. The roaring winds rip apart my thoughts and push and pull until there is little left of the original structure. My world is collapsing and it hurts, every breath I take I exhale more pieces of my failing body. The storm has destroyed me. How can I begin to rebuild when I reach out for help and there is no response? My S.O.S. falls on deaf ears and eyes that cannot see. I will not give up. I must rebuild, I must find the one person who will listen to me and not turn a blind eye to the extent of the damage my body and mind has sustained.

My journey with Adrenal Insufficiency started years ago. I don’t know if I can pick out the exact day or time my body and mind started to fall apart and my world started spiraling out of control. I look back and there are so many memories lost in a deep and impenetrable fog.  My comfort is that I finally have an answer. It took years of me searching and doctors not listening.  So many years passed where I would be the person looking in on my life and wondering who that person was. It wasn't me anymore. This girl looked like me and at times thought like me, and yet she was not me. I strongly believe some of the first symptoms I experienced where psychiatric in nature. There were small things like my lack of motivation to very drastic changes in my personality and everything in between. I would call my best friend and cry, I would be drenched in tears and hysterically trying to seek some sort of comfort. He knew me so well, he knew the girl I was. The anxiety that would take my life over prevented me from doing what I once considered to be simple tasks. Among them was spending time with my three wonderful children.  I went from loving the time we would go in adventures together, to dreading when they would return from school. I had this overwhelming feeling to run away, run far far away. I needed time alone and stress would overtake me.

I weighed 135lbs in this photo at my sickest.

Before I started getting very sick at 170lbs.

                The time to run away had finally come. I decided it was time for a change, it needed to happen before I lost the last pieces of myself. Every day it seemed that more pieces would fall to the ground, I was unraveling. I had always dreamed of moving out west and it was time to follow my heart. As a child when anyone would ask what I wanted to do when I grew up I would confidently reply, a biologist. I wanted to work with amazing animals in amazing places. I had always been drawn to the large carnivores I would watch on PBS. Wild America, I wanted to be that piece of the wild, I wanted to live in it, save it and walk with the bears, wolves, and fly free with the eagles. I ran away to college. Prescott College to be exact. A school that allowed me to not only get me education, but go to those amazing places I had watched on TV as a child.

150 lbs

                Something was still terribly wrong. Before I had decided to go to college I had a hysterectomy, it was followed with a year of incurable infections. I was well enough for a few months to make it to Prescott and complete our backcountry orientation in the fall. By December I started having infections again. I took antibiotics and pushed through. My personality started to decline further and further. I was trying so hard to keep myself afloat, gasping for breaths of air as the anxiety and depression swallowed me whole. I met someone, fell in love, and could not deal with the stress of a relationship. I rallied and found the courage to go to Alaska with my school as a class. I had been overcome just a month prior with some of the worst migraines I had ever experienced. I was scared to go, scared to leave, and scared to spend the summer roughing it in the back country of one of the wildest places on earth. I did it anyway. Alaska was a dream, it was more than a dream, I refused to let my body destroy my childhood aspirations. In June of 2012 I departed on the journey of a lifetime, with five other students and two instructors. There were days out in the backcountry where I struggled to get out of my sleeping bag, I struggled to be agreeable, I struggled to keep the fatigue at bay and the anxiety under control. How could I be so miserable in such a wild and pristine place? I was so angry with myself, this wasn’t me. Where had I gone, and how could I get myself back?

                Fast forward a couple of months, I am back in Prescott, I am slightly out of control. I have a shoulder injury that I made so much worse rock climbing on for a month in my Rock and Geology course. I loved that course. It brought back some peace to my life. Then I came back into town and I lost it. I received my first cortisone injection in my shoulder. I felt like I had the worst flu ever after that shot. It took a week for me to start feeling somewhat better. I swore I would never do it again. I called my orthopedist and he said he had never heard of cortisone shots making anyone sick. It must have just been me coming down with something at the same time; he reassured me the shot was safe.  Eventually the pain in my shoulder lessened, I could climb again, and yet I stopped doing everything. I struggled through my classes, classes I had been so excited for. Animal biology should have been a sure A for me. I never got less than a B anyway. I left two courses that semester with C’s. The only reason I received those C’s was because I talked to my professors, I cried and told them I felt like my life was slipping away. I worked as hard as I could, but my ability to get through a short paper had vanished. I would go to the library with a good friend, open my laptop and cry. I would go into such an intense panic attack I would spend more time outside smoking and pacing than I ever did working. How can this be, I would ask myself, I would sit on the bench and just wonder if perhaps my time was running short. There was no other explanation.

                Four months later I received my second cortisone shot, I did not want it but the pain was unbearable. I was enrolled in a black and white photography course, the only course I was able to attend that semester. I needed to be able to use my shoulder. Then it happened again. I felt like I had the worst flu possible. I had night sweats and nausea and I came to a point that I could no longer drive myself anywhere. I would drive places and not know how I got there. I would sit in my car and wonder how I ended up where I was. It was terrifying. I went to see my primary care physician almost weekly. I would be in tears and beg him to help me.  My primary care physician said I needed anti-depressants and therapy.  He referred me to a psychiatrist and told me I was too young to be this sick. I called my orthopedist again to ask if the cortisone shot could have done this. He said there was no way the shot could have made me this sick. He was both right and wrong. My women’s health nurse practitioner was the only one who listened to me. She watched me waste away and loose over 40 lbs in just a few months. I was dying; we both knew it.  My nurse practitioner saved my life.

                Edie Morgan is the name of the wonderful woman who believed in me and she is the reason my children still have a mother. I cannot adequately express the gratitude I have for her. The terrible lower back pain and rapid weight loss made Edie secretly think that I had lymphoma. She ran a scan and discovered that my adrenal glands were calcified. This led to an AM and PM cortisol level blood draw. Both those numbers came up as ZERO! It is a miracle I am alive. The diagnosis officially happened in Chicago. That is a story for next time. The tale of the beginning of adventures in my new life; my life with Addison’s disease.

A couple months after diagnosis. The curves are back!

My epiphany: Life is Beautiful

     I hear the excited yet exaggerated screams of my fellow classmates as the road rises and falls. The vast desert stretched before me, and us, framed towering mountains in the distance. I look up through the van window and admire the bright blue sky. I can’t help but think of how it complements the brown and green world we are making our journey through. Energy courses through the white Prescott College van as the anticipation of our upcoming climbing trip heightens. Joshua Tree; we are on our way!

     Our group consists of two adjunct instructors and a teaching assistant who was very quickly becoming a close friend to me, and eight students, including myself. Introduction to Rock Climbing was the official title of the course and yet to me this had become an introduction to truly living. Up until this point, most of my life had belonged to others. Since childhood my life had been driven by the wishes and desires of others. I was raised with the eastern European guilt of putting others before yourself, and never ever being selfish. I have learned it is healthy at times to be a little selfish. If you do not love and take care of yourself, it becomes impossible to love and care for others.

     Introduction to life came to me at a great time of need. It was a period in my life where I had just went through an emotionally painful hardship. I saw this time as a great tragedy, and like life likes to do, it turned into a miracle. It was the end of my old life and the beginning of my freedom. Out of desperation I dropped a course in environmental policy and eagerly signed up for a rock climbing course so I could forget the sorrow that I was filled with. So many times we fall upon hardships like rough jagged stones, and although we may have some bruises and cuts to show for our fall, they will heal with time. We stand up after our fall, make an assessment that is far more grim than the reality. Once the pain begins to fade, once the initial shock passes, only then is it clear that our wounds are superficial. We fall down and we get back up again. We heal.

After the fall I had taken I believed I would not heal. I believed that life as I knew it had ended; thankfully it had. If it hadn't I would not be embarking on this new adventure, traveling to a new place, with ten brilliant souls.

     I had come to Arizona to grow, to live, to love. The open road before me stretches far beyond my view. The yellow lines that divide the highway blur and form one solid line ahead. My yellow brick road.
  I lean back on the open van window to feel the dry desert wind rushing through my hair. The unruly curls dance and play as I close my eyes and reflect upon the past. The past disappears and the wind caresses my cheeks; I feel my wings spreading so I can fly upwards, and onwards. I cannot imagine the beauty I am about to encounter, I feel the excitement start to build inside of me. I return to the present and relish the moment. This very moment in time. Life is beautiful.

After my first trip to Joshua Tree I returned for a second trip with a
a great group of friends. 

My teaching assistant Mike.
He is now one of my closest friends!

My class setting up climbs.

The desert captivates me. I can close my eyes and get lost in the arid breeze, only to open them and find myself in paradise.

My Journey West pt. 2

           

My orientation group

The crisp Arizona air greets me as I attempt to crawl out of my sleeping bag to start our long day. Creek, a fellow student, joyfully sings as he rouses the rest of our group from their cozy sleeping spots. I pull my camouflage bivy sac back over my head to hide from Creek’s, all too happy, chorus lines. Poking my head out, I remind him that it is in fact 4:38 A.M. and he answers my crabbiness in song. Then a giggle escapes my sleepy body, I agree to get out of the warmth of my bag and join the rest of the group, soon, after coffee. Backcountry coffee is always a treat, a wonderful energy giving steamy cup, no cream or sugar, just caffeine. It invigorates a morning grump such as myself with enough spirit to start the day, and at the end of the hike--it’s just comfort.

                I turn on the red light on my head lamp and start to gather my needed gear for the day. I roll up my sleeping bag and compress it tightly into its sack. The smell of the forest soothes me as I perform my morning routine and brush my teeth, then help take down the tarps. Everyone around me busy cooking, cleaning, and packing. The light of the sunrise now begins to join my group and I, bringing to life the beautiful meadow, and the army of strong tall trees standing guard over us. Awe, is the only word suited to describe the feeling I had standing there, watching the sun rise, and the group of nine other students -- who I now call friends. I am proud to be right here in this green and serene place, with these amazing people, and my new chance for a change from the old ways. 

Creek and Emily under our tarp

A moment passes and a profound sorrow fills me. It has been eleven days since I last talked to my children. The sweet sound of my youngest child singing nursery rhymes or the cute chipmunk voice of my middle child would soothe my soul. My eldest has an understanding that well surpasses is young age, I close my eyes and can feel his arms around me. I miss them more than pen could adequately express on paper. I crave even the sound of their voices on the other end of a phone, or a letter with words of love and encouragement. I never thought I could miss anyone or anything so deeply. This is a part of the transformation, a challenge to stop the insanity of my old life.  I spend another moment in tranquil meditation and find the strength that I hold inside my soul. The sky is bright enough to turn my headlamp off, and I stare at the few lingering stars, those party animals, beautifully gracing the sky until after dawn. I turn and walk towards my friends and join them for breakfast before we embark on today’s amazing journey.

The monsoons were upon us!

We continued on our journey, trekking miles through the breathtaking Arizona wilderness. From the mountains that towered around me to the prickly Cats Claw waiting to attack us on the desert floor; we carried our heavy packs and hiked and learned about the treasures of this foreign land. The natural history itself is overwhelming. I had never imagined the desert to have such a complicated ecosystem. September is an odd time in Arizona. Some days reached scorching temperatures, while others were frigid and wet with big monsoon storms sweeping in. I learned to appreciate water in a way that made it sacred. Having grown up in the great lakes region we always had plenty of water, streams, and rivers. Now I sit on a rock and attempt to pump water out from a puddle so my companions and I have enough to get us to camp. So much in my life has changed. I stare out over the massive red rock that I am perched on and hope for the strength to make it another day.

yes, we actually were pumping water
out of a muddy puddle.

     

                Since I came to Arizona and started school. It has not been easy, it has been a challenge, and a difficult transition. From the moment I left Chicago and started my new life here, in Prescott I have worked hard to make this dream become a reality.

I think back to the days I would sit and the tears would run down my cheeks and onto the ground, and I felt helpless and trapped. I think back to my orientation and the struggle of being away from home, my children and having to build my muscles and courage. The start of the semester was no easier, homework and the lack of money pressured me in ways that made me wish I could give up and return to the place I wanted so desperately to leave.  I wiped up my tears and carried on. This was my dream after all. I was finally living it.

Next challenge was waiting for my children to finally arrive, and be with me, after such a long and hard separation. We would talk daily, but there was still a dark void in my heart. I have never been away from them for more than a few days. It had been months since I held them. I am thrilled at the adventures all of us will have together in our new home. I hear my children’s words encouraging me, loving me, supporting me, over and over. It is my dream, and it is happening, it is real, and I am living it. No matter how difficult the challenge, I never gave up, I never will. There is no worse prison than the one we make for ourselves with imagined bars created by our fears and self-doubt. I sat tapping my fingers on my kitchen table, and finally I heard a truck pull up! They are home, here finally, after four long months. They are home.

           

I found my wings.

     “Hurry up guys! I’m going to be late!” I yell. We all grab our backpacks pile into the Jeep and I drive away from our little house on the north side of Prescott. The sun in beating on the windshield and the truck seems stuffy, so I roll down the windows. The mountains in the distance are a peaceful site to me every morning. They tower high into the sky and touch the heavens. No more sky scrapers to stare at, just the majesty that nature herself has created. I pull up to my son’s school and my phone rings. He jumps out of the passenger side and forgets his hoody and an assignment, possibly, some crumpled white paper. I yell for him, but he is already too far into the tangled mess of high school students to hear me. I answer the call on its final ring. “Hi Daddy,” I cheerfully say. He asks about the children and about school. I happily report all good things; with the exception of the last few days of rather cool fifty degree weather. I let him talk to his two grand-daughters and they energetically tell him about their new world and the wonders of the southwest. The jeep is filled with lively chatter and giggles. My youngest recites the alphabet twice before the phone is returned to me. After a while of me talking about my classes and about how much I would like for him to visit I ask how the world up north looks and he simply replies “white.”

Together Again

My Journey West Pt.1

             

Maddy and Syrenity in Indiana

White. The whole town is covered in a frigid, soft and white blanket. I walk over to my candy apple red mustang, with the sound of the snow crunching after every reluctant step. My deep purple fleece gloves wipe the tears from my rosy cheeks as I watch a few snowflakes make their journey to the ground. I have become restless and I am in desperate need of a change, it is more than the cold, it is my soul that is searching for its path in this world. A life lived merely longing for dreams is that of a ghost haunting the same halls, day after day, trapped in time.  A shiver runs through my body as I brush off the remnants of last night’s storm, revealing more of the bright red car hiding under this wintery blanket. I sigh and my breath forms a white puff that dissipates as it floats up to the heavens. The chill of the winter’s unforgiving winds only adds to the bitterness that has been growing stronger and taking over my heart—it is broken and lost.

                I return to my little house, after all the snow from my car was brushed away, to be greeted by the heated sounds of a sibling quarrel. My snowy gloves clean the last drops of evidence from my tear streaked cheeks. The depression that has corrupted my soul is kept safely inside the vault of my mind. The children shouldn’t have to deal with my downfalls, and I pretend to be happy for their sake, and my own. Smiling when all you want to do is cry is a theatrical mastery, and I have well mastered that act, as well as a few others.

                I close the door a little louder so the bickering would, with all hope, end with my presence. “Are you ready?” I ask. I just receive blank stares followed by hurried explanations of why there was arguing in the first place. Another sigh escapes me. Seemingly simple everyday moments overwhelm me and I struggle to keep my patience and my temper. It is time for the children to begin their long school day; it will soon be time for my dark and robust friend to join me. A little bit of an addiction, but hot coffee on an unforgiving cold Midwestern day is almost a necessity. Any comfort at this point is welcomed and needed. In a flash I see colorful hats and gloves being put on by little hands and I grab my jacket. 

“We are ready mom, but do we have to go to school today?” said my middle daughter.  “Of course,” I reply.  We head back into the cold world. The mustang groans as I pull it out of the driveway. I speed up a little and fishtail just a bit, enough to get a frantic scream from my middle child, a giggle from my preschooler, and a look of dismay from my eldest and only boy. “Lighten up guys!” I say with that rehearsed smile. My heart aches as I watch them, happy and unknowing of the pain I am fighting inside. Guilt rushes over me for the lies I tell with my faked happiness, even though it is for the sake of theirs.

Snow Angel

               Life has been challenging for me for a long time. I viewed my dreams as childish things, and now I regret that outlook. I am nearing thirty years of age; time is slipping out of my hands like the soft granules of beach sand. It took time and wisdom to realize that there is nothing foolish about chasing dreams. College and a career take time, if I do not act soon, all the sand will be gone. Too many people get trapped in the boxes that society has built and forget that their heart holds the key to happiness. We hurry through life and follow the paths we should according to others and dismiss the path that calls us. I believe that every person has a gift or talent and the ability to make the world a better place using what they are naturally gifted at.

              The southwest has been a dream of mine for many years. I have a long love of the desert all due to the many childhood summers which I spent exploring them in Mexico. The sun on my skin, the mountains covered in browns and reds with prickly pears in plentiful amounts. Sitting watching the sky and all of the golden colors that helped tuck the sleepy sun away in the evening, making way for a million twinkling diamonds and a bright Cheshire smile to send me to bed. The desert is a captivating place, which my heart calls home.

               I have spent many years now wishing to move to Arizona. I have never been there physically, and yet I feel my spirit drawn to that part of the country. I decide it is time to start following my own heart, let go of the insanity that has destroyed me, and listen to the calling that has been too long ignored.

I return home after taking the children to school and immediately start to make a cup of hot coffee. A sense of purpose has filled me; it is time to act now. The moment has come where I decided that I can no longer live the way that has brought me to this point of utter despair. It is a tragedy to see my life, my character, and my talents slip away. I walk over to my computer after adding cream and sugar to my steamy mug. The aroma of the freshly brewed drink fills the house. I walk over to my computer and sit down in the large black chair. I take a deep breath as the computer boots up, nervousness replaces the sorrow, it’s time to find happiness.

               I have always dreamed of going to college, as long as I can remember I have had a desire to earn my degree and have a career I am passionate about. As a child I vowed to work as a marine biologist and help keep the animals of this planet safe from the destruction that is caused by humans. As I grew that dream became bolder and more defined. Conservation biology fascinates me. How can I make this dream a reality? I am a single mother with three kids that have disabilities. I have worked very hard over the past six years to help turn their disabilities into strengths, and they are all doing so well. Is it possible that now is a good time to follow my heart and go to college? Show them, and myself, that it is never too late to accomplish a goal?

              I know that Northern Arizona University has a forestry program. I start my search there, then move to a general search of college in Arizona. I scroll and come across Prescott College. I have a very close friend, and the mother of my partner that owns a house in Chino Valley. I look up the distance between Chino Valley and Prescott Arizona and find that it is only 18 miles. My heart skips a beat, they will be moving there as soon as their house is sold. This means that I could still live close to friends and have some sort of support system in place to help me with my children. Some things are not mere coincidences—some things are simply meant to be.

Syrenity loves the snow!

              I click on the link that takes me to the Prescott College web site and begin to explore this amazing school. I quickly find that this school is perfect for me. It has strong programs in the field of environmental science; it is also an experiential school that is very self-directed. The programs and opportunities take my breath away. There are many filed courses, some are even international. The school starts all students with a three week backcountry wilderness expedition, I am amazed. I hit the apply now link, my heart skips a beat, I must try if nothing else, just see if I would even get accepted into the program. I will have the time between now and when I receive my letter from the school either accepting or denying my application to talk with my children, family and friends about this important change. I would have to move fifteen-hundred miles away from home, with three kids, and start a new life on my own. The anxiety of this rushes over me, then it is accompanied with excitement. It is thrilling to have even the thought of this grand opportunity. I have lived in Chicago my whole life. It is a vast city that swallows you, if you let it. I moved to Northern Indiana for a change, and to take my children out of that busy city. Two hours was far, yet not far enough to remove me from the turmoil of my past and the stagnant pool that has become my present. Still, if you have lived in a place your whole life, it is home. It is the place I know best and I have my parents there, as well as all of my closest and most supportive friends.

              The time for a decision has come, one sunny afternoon, about a month after my application was submitted to Prescott College, I receive an excited call. My entrance counselor Carmen happily informs me that I have been accepted and not only have I been accepted but I also received an eight-thousand dollar scholarship for each year to help pay my tuition! I feel my eyes fill with tears, the wet drops roll down my face. I wipe them speechless and overwhelmed. Tears of joy! I haven’t cried from happiness in so long, too long.  I am waiting impatiently here to give my children the amazing news; they have been just as excited as I am about the next step in our journey. I was worried for a long time about how this would affect them. I worried foolishly because they urged me to follow my dreams. I can’t wait to tell them!