One year

Today marks the one year mark since autoimmune failure made its grand entrance into my life. 

Instacare Visit | 3-2-14
I s'pose the actual symptoms started arriving sooner (sinus infection, skin infection, cold symptoms etc.), but today marks the year mark since the pain arrived ... and hasn't left since. 

What does it look like a year later?

I literally have had pain every day that I can remember, sans one. It can be a dull aching pain at times or sharp and piercing at others. I don't necessarily have pain every minute of every day, but I have it at some point during every day. Pain in my fingers, wrists, arms, legs, joints, muscles, knees, feet, ankles, side of my neck, my ear. It's a pain party. And mostly on my right side. 

Cold symptoms on and off all the time. I had them for about six weeks back in the fall. I never know if I am actually coming down with a cold or just have autoimmune failure symptoms. 

Sinus-infection like symptoms the majority of the time.


Bloody noses.

And my favorite? In late August, I started having to take medicine EVERY morning and night so I could ... Eat food.

And no other name to call it that simply, autoimmune failure. 

It has become so normal that this is my new normal and I have no belief it will change from this point. Annnd ... oh, well. Of all the things I lost in 2014, my health wasn't my biggest concern. So, I s'pose I will carry on and be grateful it isn't worse. 


Mindy & Law Enforcement

Let's get real, peeps.

I have lost count of how many times I have been pulled over by law enforcement. 

So much so, that I didn't feel Murphy could fully be initiated as one of my cars until I was pulled over while driving him.

Good thing it only took about a month for it to happen.

Apparently I did not come to a full and complete stop.


It's uber frustrating because I was driving on a somewhat "new" road in Logan, which cops populate like a donut shop. Because of this, I am so, so, SO careful when driving on this street. It is actual stressful for me to do so.

And while I was so careful to maintain appropriate speed and obey every law of the land regarding driving a vehicle, two days ago - I failed. 

I rolled at a stop.

And I got a ticket for doing so.

And I feel there are thee major points to bring out regarding this experience.

One. The officer did a u-turn over a double yellow line to come get me. I ain't no expert, but common sense tells me crossing double yellow lines is far more dangerous and a far more serious offense than "rolling" at a stop. And yes, I am aware that sometimes law officials must make adaptations to the law to catch criminals ... like me when I rolled at a stop sign. I suppose it is like a math equation, two negative equal a positive???

Two. I was pulled over on February 27th, leading me to believe I was merely a victim of month-end quotas. 

Three. The officer was the nicest and kindest officer I have ever met {well, sans my USU running teammates Sheena and Shae, and my high school running teammates father, Lt. Geier}. She was actually extremely apologetic. She said how sorry she was for providing me a ticket and how she hoped she didn't ruin my day. Besides being so nice she was super cute too. 

And, I guess that is all I have to say. I was pulled over for a rolling stop to meet month-end quotas by the prettiest and nicest officer very apologetic police offer who broke the law herself to pull me over, which is okay because apparently the law and math are similar when it comes to two negative making a positive. Yeah, I feel like the world-wide web needed this information today. 


New Wheels

About a month ago I was driving home from my parents' home and my beloved Wilson began making the most horrific noise. 

And then he started dying at stop signs, lights, and while waiting to do left-hand turns.

And then he started smoking.

And then he wouldn't restart, while smoking, in the middle of a road, while attempting to make a left-hand turn and two strange men had to assist me in pushing my car to the side of the road.

And then when making a phone call for help to come, my phone died.

And then one of the strange men invited me into his adorably modern home with his adorable wife to charge my phone to revive my phone. 

And then Wilson was towed to a local mechanic where it was discovered that the head gasket blew, resulting in metal and coolant getting into the engine, resulting in the engine seizing up and Wilson giving up the ghost.


To make a long story somewhat shorter, through the help of the wonderful Erin Wilson of Wilson Motor Company, a typically horrific and high anxiety-inducing process of car buying was made perfectly simple. 

She helped me get not only a fantastic car that I could feel confident and safe in purchasing, but she got me THE car that my Shtev had researched extensively for me prior to his passing. 

Everyone, meet Murphy Wilson {the name is in honor of my Shtev and my last car}. I think I will call him Murf for short, but Murphy is kind of sticking.

I know it sounds ridiculous, but the gratitude for Erin's kindness and efforts in helping me find the car that Steve wanted for me know no bounds. Steve wanted this car for me to be safe in as I traveled alone. Steve wanted this car for me to last for a long, long time. Even after his passing, this car is able to represent the love and car he provided for me for 17 years. And now is able to continue to do. 

If anyone ever needs a car, regardless if you are in Logan or not, please, please look into Wilson Motor Company for all your car needs. Erin went above and beyond in every way possible to get me my perfect car.  I am fully confident in the quality, price and service I received because of her hard work and diligence ... and want YOU to feel the same when in a stress and anxiety inducing pickle such as buying a car. 

P.S. It didn't hurt that these babies were waiting for me in Murphy when I was driving off the lot as the owner of the car. 


While it may appear that I was compensated for this post, I was not! I am actually just THIS THRILLED with the services Wilson Motor Company provided me. 


Angels to Beckon Him

There let the way appear,
Steps unto heav'n;
All that thou sendest me,
In mercy giv'n;
Angels to beckon me
Nearer, my God to thee,
Nearer, my God to thee,
Nearer to thee!

"Nearer, My God to Thee"
Music Atr. to Lowell Mason & Text by Sarah F. Adams

I heard this song at Church several weeks ago. 

And I sobbed.

I sobbed as I thought of my Shtev having the way appear to him, those steps into heaven.

I sobbed as I thought of those angels beckoning him, to leave this world behind for a greater one and a greater work.

I sobbed as I thought of him turning back to see all he was temporarily leaving behind and the wake of grief his absence would create.

I sobbed as I thought of him continuing to take each step closer to his Heavenly Home because that is what he knew the Lord wanted him to do.  

And I sobbed as I ached to be nearer to him myself. 



On Valentine's Day we treated ourselves to Olive Garden for lunch and a little bowling afterwards.

I scored 76 points and that was only because I scored my only strike in the last frame. 

I posted this photo on Instagram and one of my dear, dear friends commented, "A lot of love in this awesome picture!"

And when I look at it, that's what I see too. I also see survival. A survival that gives me a glimmer of hope that says, "Yeah, because you have each other, you're somehow going to make it through this."  And I will take every glimmer of hope this world has to offer. 


Blank Pages. Blank Stares.

I am currently sitting on the couch, alone in my apartment with minimal autoimmune failure symptoms.

That might make you feel badly for me, but it shouldn't.

Because I am also sitting on the couch, alone in my apartment with minimal autoimmune failure symptoms while waiting for a chocolate peanut butter shake from Morty's.

That should probably make you feel jealous of me. ;)

It's blaringly obvious {is blaringly a word?} that I have had difficultly writing since Shtev passed away. 

I am not quite sure why that is.

Part of me thinks that is is because every time I sit down and come to my little space on the world wide web, I just want to talk about him. Part of me thinks it is because ... everything else is honestly so, trivial compared what happened to my sister, my nephews, my mom and dad, my brother and sister-in-law, my sister, myself, Steve's family, and everyone who knew and loved him on that dark, dark September morning. 

I know Steve wouldn't want this for me. I know he would want me to write. And write about the trivial things. And accidentally offend people in the process. ;) 

Yet it's just so hard.

I sometimes open up a blank post and just ... stare.

Other times I open one up and I start typing, about my Shtev. About my loss.

I don't know exactly how to move forward in this little spot of the world wide web anymore. But I do know that somehow I will because that is what Steve would want.

And while what I am writing today isn't "moving forward", maybe it is breath closer to doing so. And that is the best I can do for now.


Maybe YOU should tell me what to write about. That might make things better. Just a thought. :)


And in my dreams ...

Following the loss of our Steve, my dreams were kind to me. So, so, graciously kind

They were magical, because in my dreams, he was still here with us. In those dreams, there was absolutely no indication or even hint that he was gone, that we had lost him. In those dreams, he was alive just as he always was

I loved those dreams more than I can say. I yearned for those dreams. I ached for them. I could never have enough.

And they lasted for a little over two months ...  until on one day, when I woke up on our Disneyland vacation. 

In the dream I saw the back of Steve and was so filled with joy for him to just be present.

But this dream was different. In this dream, the realization that he was gone became known to my dream-state. Dream Mindy said to herself, "That cannot be him, he is gone." And in the dream, the man I thought was my Shtev turned and I saw his face to see it was Steve's brother, Doug.

I ached in the dream.

And I ached when I woke up. And I cried. Because for those two extra months, he had still been alive in my dreams, even if just in my dreams ... and now? Now, my dreams finally connected to my reality and I lost him once again, in the last place this world provided him. 

And all the kindness, grace and magic my dreams once held, was, like my Shtev, just ... gone in a single moment. And, like in my reality he hasn't returned, but I hope that at least Dream Steve will return until that beautiful and divine day that I truly will see him again. 


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