voice...

I have lost my voice.
My writing voice.
I have not posted in a while because I cannot wrap my mind around how to explain the place I'm in. There is a lot going on that I'm not sure should be shared with the world. There are good things happening, sad things, angering things, exciting things, and even some scary and anxiety provoking things.

There are things I literally cannot write about- expressly forbidden actually.
There are things I want to write about, but out of respect for those involved will not.
And there are things I simply am choosing not to write about to protect myself...I need to not be so bare to the world right now.

I'm not sure if I will ever come back to writing like I used to. It served a wonderful purpose in allowing me to cathartically release my grief and emotions for a long time. But I don't know if that is necessary any more.

Maybe my voice will find it's way back to me in time...

Heavy...

I felt like I was on an upswing for a while but something washed over me today. Things were getting better, but as is the case with grief, it comes in waves. You can only ride the crest so long before it crumples beneath you.

There is a new relationship to look forward to, new hope for the future. Maybe, just maybe, the girls and I will have a complete family someday. Or maybe not, I feel so uncertain. Relationships are hard. They take a lot of work. I’m not sure if I have the emotional strength and fortitude to devote to it as the great man deserves; I’m not sure I believe in myself and my abilities to cope anymore. I feel weak and doubt myself. I don’t want to give up on the hope of happiness. I’m just feeling like I’m not good enough to make it through the tough stuff. I’m feeling overwhelmed with single parenthood. I’m feeling tired of spending the evenings in silence because there is no one to here to talk to. I’m tired of feeling needy and desperate for attention and reassurance. I’m tired of worrying about what the rest of the world thinks and trying to please others, or grieve the "right" way in the "right" time. I feel indignant that this is the hand I’ve been dealt. I feel guilty that I did not have the guts to visit the cemetary on the one year anniversary, nor on father's day; back to back days that were just too much. Will he think I'm a coward? Will he think I have moved on past the point of caring? Is he even there?

I feel dark, despondent, and discouraged….
I just want it all to get better now. I’ve made it through a year. When is enough, enough?
Grief feels so heavy tonight.

feel better...

The weight of this week is bearing down on me. I am irritable and lack patience with the girls today because I am stressed and worried about all the things I need to accomplish this week. I try to remain calm with them but am appalled at my own behavior and how quickly I get angry at them for minor things. How many times can you tell a toddler "no" before they finally get it?

I have come to the realization recently that I can't do this alone anymore, and do it well. I don't want to do this alone anymore. I don't want to be a single parent. I'm tired of it. I don't want the girls to be raised in a single parent household. I cannot be a good mother to them without help, as hard as that is for me to admit. I need a co-parent, a partner, a support system that doesn't come and go a couple of nights a week. I need someone who will have my back and be there to emotionally support me, so that I can be healthy enough to emotionally support my children. It's not fair to them that I am tired and overwhelmed most of the time because they end up bearing the brunt of it. This, I am not okay with. Paradoxically, I find myself behaving in some of the ways that I used to get angry with Andie for when he lost his patience. Funny how that happens isn't it? I guess when you are left to take on the role of both parents you step right into those shoes...no matter how uncomfortable they may be. Because you don't know any other way to do it, really.

I just want to feel better.
About my life.
About my parenting.
About my future and theirs.
About myself.


"Just Feel Better" by Aerosmith and Santana

she said i feel stranded
and i can't tell anymore
if i'm coming or i'm going
it's not how i planned it
i got a key to the door
but it just won't open

i know i know i know
part of me says let it go
that life happens for a reason
i don't i don't i don't
because it never worked before
but this time
this time
i'm gonna try anything to just feel better

tell me what to do
you know i can't see through the haze around me
and i'd do anything to just feel better
i can't find my way
god i need a change
and i'd do anything to just feel better
any little thing to just feel better

she said i need you to hold me
i'm a little far from the shore
and i'm afraid of sinking
you're the only one who knows me
and who doesn't ignore that my soul i weeping

i know i know i know
part of me says let it go
everything must have its season
'round and 'round it goes
every day's the one before
but this time
this time
i'm gonna try anything to just feel better


tell me what to do
you know i can't see through the haze around me
and i'd do anything to just feel better
i can't find my way
god i need a change
and i'd do anything to just feel better
any little thing to just feel better

i'm tired of holding on
to all the things i leave behind
it's really getting old yeah
i think i need a little help this time

i'm gonna try anything to just feel better

tell me what to do
you know i can't see through the haze around me
and i'd do anything to just feel better
i can't find my way
god i need a change
and i'd do anything to just feel better
any little thing to just feel better

Charades...

Ten months today and it still does not seem real to me. Many days I feel like he is on an extended trip and most definitely will return soon. I delude myself into thinking that this is all not really happening. It is only in small increments that my mind can process that he is never going to walk through the door again.

I dreaded this anniversary because the girls were only 10 months old when he died, and I feared that it would be hard to consider that half their lives he has not been with them. It is sad to think that from this day forward they will have had more time without him than with him. I am particularly sad for my girls today- more so than for me. I am hit with the gravity of how much they will miss. Have already missed. How little they knew of him. I had about 10 years with him, they only 10 months. Months they will never remember. And no matter how much I tell them about him, they will never truly know him like I did.

I am extremely sad that in all likelihood they will one day think of another man as their father. I want them to have a father figure and I want them to have the emotional connection with a man they can love, trust, admire, and look up to. But I am not okay with the fact that it will not be with their father. The man who helped create them. Who loved them with every ounce of his being just because they were his. I am not ready to accept that another man could love them as much, and as well as their own father. And for that I feel angry that they are the ones getting cheated. How do you ever begin to accept second best for your children?

Every night as I take them to bed we stop at his picture and tell him goodnight, that we love him, and that we want him to visit us in our dreams so we can tell him about our day. I wonder when the day will come when they ask me why we talk to this picture. Who is this man that we have to say goodnight to?

For on that day, the charade will end and I just might actually believe that he's really gone...

Tears...

"There is a sacredness in tears. They are not the mark of weakness, but of power. They speak more eloquently than ten thousand tongues. They are messengers of overwhelming grief…and unspeakable love." – Washington Irving

This morning the tears come as I’m getting ready for work. I was a little surprised by them because I hardly ever cry in the morning anymore. I realized I was having flashbacks of the night Andie died and reliving those awful moments at the hospital after he had been pronounced dead. I remember going outside to get some air and thinking, “My husband is dead. I have to call people. How is this real? My husband. Is dead.” I remember wanting to go back inside and demand that the doctors do some miraculous procedure that would save him. Cut him open and massage his heart by hand if they had to, anything that would offer one last chance at life. Then I remember having the thought that this sort of thing only happens on TV…rarely in real life.

I had worked through the flashbacks. Allowing myself to relive them in an effort to desensitize myself and process them. The only way to heal through them according to my grief counselor. I had gotten to the point where I could think about that night and not break down. But, after going through another traumatic event with Allie, seeing her become unresponsive and her lips turn blue, the flashbacks are back. My counselor warned me this would happen earlier this week when I saw her. “Be prepared,” she had said. Traumatic memories are the strongest kind. They trigger other traumatic memories because they activate the same part of the brain, bypassing all the normal routes of memory consolidation. It’s like a switch is flipped and there is nothing you can do about it. Except…live it again and again until it doesn’t hurt so badly.

I also realize this morning that I have not had any dreams about Andie in a while. Nor have I felt his presence with me as I so often did in the early days. It leaves me feeling abandoned and angry. Again…just as I did on the night he died. Perhaps, this is why I have been clinging desperately to any sort of connection with others lately. It’s irrational to feel abandoned; I know he would have never chosen to leave us. I cry about this too, this morning. Feeling so alone…and irrational.

Trying to appreciate the power of my tears…
To understand that while they are messengers of overwhelming grief, so too, do they represent unspeakable love…

Re-birth

9 months today and my thoughts are scattered but I keep coming back to the notion that it takes 9 months to grow a life. 9 months to nurture a baby in your womb. 9 months to create a living being and bring them into the world. Yet it takes only a second, just one moment, for a life to end.

I am bitter about that-there should have been a little more time. Sudden, unexpected death is so wrenching, ripping, aching, mind-blowing. Similar to giving birth though there is no reward at the end of death. No gift in the end that is so great that it makes you forget all the pain you went through to get there, and be willing to do it all again for a just a little taste of the joy it brought.

No, in death you are left with nothing but the reverberating pain that echoes off itself. Continually bouncing back at you. Never knowing which angle it's coming from. Never really going away and always right below the surface. The pain never becomes a memory with death as it does after childbirth- the pain is always felt even if dulled with time. The sting is still there.

Those left in the wake are forced to re-birth themselves; to make themselves new in light of all that has been forced upon them. I am rebuilding myself; out of necessity, not by choice. Little by little learning who I am again. I'm angry about this too because I don't want to do this. It's hard. It's a struggle. Growing pains I guess. Angry because this process will take much longer than 9 months. Much longer.

I took the girls to his grave today for the first time. I showed Addie his temporary marker on the ground and said, "This is Daddy." She immediately kissed her hand as if blowing him a kiss and then touched the stone. Allie copied her. I cried as both of them continued to blow him kisses. How do they know to kiss a stone they have never seen, that only abstractly represents a father they barely remember? This blows my mind and is incomprehensible to me. We brought balloons to the grave. They each kissed their balloons and then let them go so we could send kisses to Daddy in heaven. They loved watching those balloons float away and all I could think is how badly I wish we could float away too. Drift somehow to a place where we could see him. Meet again even for just a minute.

But when that minute ended would the pain well up again as bad as the first time he was ripped away from me? Would I start all over again in this... this ugliness?

That I could not bear. So the alternative is to keep moving forward. Keep growing.
Keep pushing...

I'm not a single parent...

The first thing I usually do in the morning is check the widow blogs I follow to see how everyone is doing. It usually helps me get through the day feeling not so isolated in my experience of the world right now.

This morning I read this one: Widow's Voice Blog and it resonated with me. Especially the part where she makes the distinction between being an "only parent, not just a single one".

I've tried to rationalize my plight to myself by telling myself there are a million single parents out there and if they can do it, so can I. But it's never really quelled my frustrations with doing this alone. And here's why: I am the ONLY one who will ever kiss a boo-boo, clap at their school play, get on them for bad grades, talk to them about their first boyfriends, hug them and kiss them goodnight, make sure all the presents are under the tree and that Santa didn't forget something, make their lunches for school, help with homework, take them to the doctor, take them to the park, encourage them to follow their dreams and believe in them that they can acheive them...

I don't have the luxury of another parent getting visitation with the kids every other weekend and on Wednesdays so I can have a break and some time to myself. I don't have someone else who will also lecture them about bad grades and making the right decisions in life. There is no one who might be able to take the day off work when they're sick because I don't have any more sick days left to take. I don't have anyone else who will show up to support them at soccer games, or pick them up from school if I'm running late, or who will be a confidant to them when they are mad at me but still need someone to talk to. I don't have a co-pilot in this thing.

I realize that divorced people don't always have that either, but the vast majority of them do. They both get to have a role in their child's life and participate in parenting. They have the option of deciding to be a part of the child's life- they make the choice about how involved they are going to be. We didn't get that option and it pisses me off.

I don't want to be the only parent...

Highs and lows...

Will the highs ever stop being outweighed and interrupted by the lows? This is of course a rhetorical question. The answer is probably never, it might get better, but I suspect there will always be the tinge of bittersweet.

Last night Allie walked on her own for the first time. This is a HUGE milestone for her; she has had some hip problems and has had a very difficult time learning to walk because her hip is rotated and not aligned properly. We've been doing physical therapy and chiropractic adjustments and she has made vast improvements in the past couple of weeks.

Last night I was playing with the girls in their room. We were all having the best time rolling around and rough housing. I was doing a bunch of tickling, just soaking in the sounds of their wonderful laughter. While we were playing Allie stood up and walked about 5 steps to me all on her own, completely unsupported. I was so excited and started clapping. Then Addie started clapping for Allie too, and Allie was so proud of herself. She did it several more times and we kept playing.

Then I came crashing down when I realized how proud Andie would be and how excited he would have been to see this happen. So there I am laying on the girls' bedroom floor sobbing. Of course they're wondering what the hell just happened since seconds before we were all giggling.

I managed to pull myself together but was full of tension and irritability for the rest of the evening. When I finally got myself to bed the tears came back again. All I can think is... Why? Why did this ever have to happen? Why me? Why them? Then I got angry with God, then I got angry with Andie for leaving. Irrational, yes- but it's what we grievers do. I cried so hard I had to remind myself to breath. Big, racking sobs...until I fell asleep.

And that is what life is like in the Simmons household these days. Highs and lows, laughter and crying, joy and pain.
All cohabitating...

Approval ratings...

I don’t know if I’ve always been so concerned with obtaining the approval of others...probably, but it’s hard to remember how I was before Andie died. But now the need for approval is magnified. All it takes is one raised eyebrow or comment to send my confidence plummeting and I’m second guessing myself. I’ve had a really weird week. I haven’t been overly emotional or sad, but I have felt very “blah”. Others can sense it too. I’ve been asked several times this week, “Is everything okay? You seem…” I usually cut them off before they can finish the sentence. I plaster on the smile and make up some excuse as to why I look like I’m about to lose it. You know…fake it til you make it!

I haven’t blogged much and haven’t touched my journal in weeks. There hasn’t been much to write about because I’m back in that place of feeling like I’ve already written about everything that I’m feeling right now, it’s all just cycling back around again. Same song, second verse.

Still feeling completely shocked that this is permanent. Still missing the comfort of Andie’s touch. Still wishing he could see how much the girls are growing and changing. Still feeling ambivalent about my future. Still wanting to change everything about my life while at the same time wanting to change nothing at all. Still amazed at how almost everything I say, do, think, and feel revolves around him or reminds me of him. Still feeling like the person I once was died with him, and I’m having to rebuild and redefine who I am. Still angry that this new life was forced upon me and not anything I had a choice in. Still feeling like I’m right where I started. Just moving in circles and continuing to come back to the same place in this journey over and over again.

Some weird feelings of a strong desire to “move on” have hit me this week. I haven’t felt that before, but this week I have this need to abruptly slam the door on this life, dust off my hands, and try to forget it even existed. Then I feel guilty for thinking that way and become very sad and morose.
I’ve even thought about whether or not I want to date someone. Gasp!! Mainly because I’m so very lonely and I miss the attention and companionship of a man. And I’ve been reading about other widows who have found love again and have “success” stories- I want to be in that club instead of this club. And mostly because the topic is starting to come up in conversation with others much more frequently.
Subtle comments and hints from others about “when” not “if” I decide to find someone else are working their way into conversation. A few weeks ago someone even asked me when I’m going to stop wearing my ring. “When I don’t feel married anymore,” was my response. I feel like others want me to start moving in that direction so then I feel pressured to do so just to make them comfortable- this is where the approval issue comes in. Sometimes I even preemptively joke about it so it's not the proverbial elephant in the room- hoping to alleviate everyone else's discomfort about the question hanging in the air..."When will she move on?"
Wanting to please the world, as if to say, “See, I’m grieving the "right" way. I’ve mourned the requisite amount of time and am moving on in a healthy manner, thank you very much." Trying to strike the perfect balance, neither wallowing in my grief, nor pushing past it too fast. When I actually picture myself with someone else I have a strong urge to vomit, so I know I’m not ready for that.

I know I can only do this at my own pace, in my own way, (as most of you will probably comment) but my confidence in everything has been shaken and I’m left just wanting everyone’s approval. I’m terrified of making a wrong decision in any aspect of my life. Whether or not to date, whether or not to build a house or move, whether or not to stay in the same career, whether or not to spend money in a frivolous manner by completely redecorating my whole house, whether or not to allow my kids to have one more cupcake after dinner. I don’t want to be the girl that everyone whispers about in hushed conversation because they don’t agree with the decisions I’m making, or worse yet think I'm absolutely crazy.

I know I shouldn’t care what others think, but I do. I can’t help it.
I just want my approval ratings to be good…

Note to self: read the fine print...

Today at snack time I feed the girls at the table and the monotony of the task hits me. It feels like I have prepared their meals, fed them, and cleaned up after them all by myself a million times. Then I realize that I have. They were still in high chairs with trays when he died. They were still eating pureed foods and drinking out of a bottle. So much has changed that he does not know about. In the few short months, our lives have dramatically changed in a myriad of small but significant ways. I ponder all the things he never got to see and doesn't know about.

He does not know that:
They can eat with a fork and drink out of sippy cup, all the while eating table food exclusively- no more pureeing veggies
They can hop like a bunny, moo like a cow, and hoot like an owl
They have natural rhythm and love to dance just like me
They love pizza as much as I do
They are able to identify with startling accuracy almost all of the animals, shapes, and many objects in their books, which they look through incessantly
They love each other and often hug and cuddle- their bond is unique and special
They know him; they recognize him in most pictures they see
They love to brush their teeth
They know how old they are and proudly raise their index finger when asked
They love to ride in the car and get excited repeating “Go” over and over when we say we are going somewhere
They give high fives and make silly faces on command
They crawl on everything, and open everything....everything
They follow simple commands and directions
They try to put their own shoes and socks on, and at bath time try to take their pants off
They build towers out of blocks and are able to do simple big board puzzles
They love to flip the light switches on and off
They love to eat ice like him, and when they see an adult drinking out of a cup they say "ice" over and over until they are given a piece
They love to rough house and get tickles, something I always imagined him doing with them
They squeal with delight and clap whenever they are proud of something they have accomplished

All of these beautiful, unique things that make them who they are and he has never experienced them. He's never had the joy of seeing them giggle with delight when being chased. Never seen them hug and kiss each other. Never watched with amazement as I have when they aren't sure how to do something and they just keep trying until they get it right. He's never walked into their room at night while they are wide awake, only to have them pretend to be asleep as though they can fool us. He's never had them cling to his leg and demand "up" because they so desperately want to be held.

It is with penetrating sadness that I realize this is all only the tip of the iceberg. He never got to be a part of shaping who they are, and who they will become. The sole task of instilling values, morals, life lessons, and personality traits is left to me.

When I said "til death do us part" this isn't what I had in mind.

This isn't what I signed up for.

I sit here heaving and sobbing, asking God if there is any way I can re-negotiate the contract.

Surely, there is an escape clause in the fine print somewhere.

Then I realize, this IS the fine print...I just didn't read it.

Frayed nerves...

Wow! Single parenting sucks! The girls are in a new phase where almost anything and everything can induce a tantrum…an all out, on the floor, kicking and screaming, tantrum. Furthermore, they outnumber me!

Here’s a list of things that have led to a tantrum in the past few days:
Changing a diaper
Sister has a toy I want or is in my general vicinity
I’m hungry and mom can’t get food in front of me in the next 30 seconds
A stranger looked at me and waved (No lie, this happened twice in the past week at two different restaurants)
Mom left the room
Mom is on the phone and not giving me her undivided attention
I want Mom to hold me…I don’t want Mom to hold me
I don’t want to eat what Mom gave me so I will spit it out, throw it on the floor, or better yet rub it in my hair- especially if I just had a bath.

They are so fast and curious; in the time it takes me to change one’s diaper the other is into something they shouldn’t be into (xmas presents, Kleenex box, all the dvd’s in the cabinet, the toilet, you name it.)

Even laundry is no simple feat. This morning this is how doing laundry went in our house. I go to my room and gather my dirty laundry. I leave the room with hands full, not able to shut the door behind me, and as I’m leaving my bedroom they are crawling in. My bedroom and bathroom are forbidden territory and they know it- when they see an opportunity to cross enemy lines they seize it. I take the clothes to the laundry room and drop it off and go back to get them. In the time it takes me to walk back from the laundry room, one is in my make-up drawer and the other is standing at the tub and has turned the water on. I get them both out of the bathroom and shut my bedroom door behind me. I go back to the laundry room to load the washer. I hear screaming while I’m in there but figure they can fend for themselves for 15 more seconds. I come out and find Addie is eating something out of the fireplace. While I am washing ashes out of her mouth, Allie comes to the kitchen and unloads the entire Tupperware cabinet. After I hastily pick up the Tupperware and throw it haphazardly into the cabinet (gone are the days of the organized cabinet where all pieces have their matching lids) I find Addie tearing up a magazine in the living room. When I take it away she screams, throws herself on the floor, and repeatedly hits my foot- as it happens to be the closest thing to her. Allie crawls around the corner and sees Addie crying so she starts too. Afterall, the only thing better than one upset child is two. And in this house it is “monkey see, monkey do”. Whew- I’m exhausted and it’s only 9:30 a.m.!

The only thing they both enjoy no matter what is the bath, and if I could get away with leaving them in the bathtub for 4 hours at a time, I just might. Better yet, maybe I should stay in the bath for 4 hours...

They are draining me in a way they have never drained me before. By the end of the day I have picked them up, put them down, crouched down to clean something up, and picked up toys so many times that my back and neck are achy and sore. Added to the stress and exhaustion of grieving it is all too much. It makes me lose my patience and I react in ways that I never would under different circumstances; yelling and spanking over things that don’t deserve such reactions. Then I feel like a horrible parent and my guilt weighs me down even further. It is a vicious cycle. I feel terribly guilty about the little amount of time I get to spend with them (3 hours at most on days I have to work) and I just want to be with them, but then they are so taxing that when I’m with them I just want to be away from them. I am on edge with them, with myself, with everyone.

My emotions are raw, like live wires and if you come too close you might get shocked.

I love you...

Excerpts from “I Love You” - by Sarah McLachlan

and I forgot
to tell you
I love you
and the night's
too long
and cold here
without you
I grieve in my condition
for I cannot find the words to say I need you so

The night Andie died, I didn’t tell him I loved him before we went to bed. We said that to each other every night. I’m not sure why we didn’t that night; perhaps because we were on vacation and out of our routine, nevertheless, I didn’t say it. And he didn’t say it to me either.

Then when the chaos started and I knew the situation was serious, I kept telling him that I needed him. That the girls needed him. That he had to stay alive because I could not do this without him. But I still did not say that I loved him.

It’s strange how in the middle of chaos and trauma you can have moments of clarity- a stillness within when thoughts seem to flow calmly and rationally, and the world around you fades away. I remember a moment like this when I had an almost subconscious fleeting thought that if I acknowledged that this might be the last time I said I loved him, then that would make it true. So I didn’t say it. It was like I was afraid to jinx myself. That if I actually uttered the words, “I love you, don’t leave me” then I was accepting my fate. That if I said it, then that meant that I believed the very thing I could not make myself believe.

I even had a brief thought about the next day, when I thought it was all going to be okay and he was stable, how I was going to tell him how much he scared me. Admonish him not to ever do that to me again. I was going to tell him that I had been afraid he was going to die. I was going to tell him then how much I loved him.

I was going to tell him then…

Ahem, ahem...here comes the soapbox

I’m in my angry phase again. I feel like there is no good or valid reason that Andie had to die. It could have been prevented a thousand ways.

Allow me to step onto my soapbox for a moment. Heart disease is one of the number one causes of death in America; it is largely because of our terrible diets and lack of exercise. After talking with the coroner about his death I learned that what killed him was a combination of genetic factors (predisposition for high cholesterol and heart disease) combined with a poor diet and lifestyle factors that only contributed to more high cholesterol and heart disease. His official cause of death was not even a heart attack. It was severe blockage of his coronary arteries (a condition called atherosclerosis) that led to his heart not being able to get blood and oxygen as needed. Basically, the coronary artery became blocked over time due to cholesterol and eventually it closed up completely- and he died. Because he ate like crap for most of his life! At only 34!

My concern is that people don’t take their health, diets, and exercise seriously enough. Especially when we’re young and think stuff like this only happens to older people. It only takes small changes to make a big impact. One small change we can all make is to eat less sugar-refined sugar, fructose, high fructose corn syrup, all forms of it!

Here is something I found while looking into this issue. It’s from www.healingdaily.com. Not the most “medical” sight, but I liked the simple list they put together about the dangers of sugar. I’ve put asterisks by the conditions that Andie had; all things that contributed to his death according to the coroner. He ate a diet high in processed foods and sugar until he started dieting about 10 months before he died. I believe with all my heart that if he had made lifestyle changes a lot earlier if it would’ve been a different outcome.

Sugar can suppress the immune system.
Sugar can upset the body's mineral balance.
Sugar can contribute to hyperactivity, anxiety, depression, concentration difficulties, and crankiness in children.
***Sugar can produce a significant rise in triglycerides.
Sugar can cause drowsiness and decreased activity in children.
***Sugar can reduce helpful high density cholesterol (HDLs).
***Sugar can promote an elevation of harmful cholesterol (LDLs).
Sugar can cause hypoglycemia.
Sugar contributes to a weakened defense against bacterial infection.
Sugar can cause kidney damage.
***Sugar can increase the risk of coronary heart disease.
Sugar may lead to chromium deficiency.
Sugar can cause copper deficiency.
Sugar interferes with absorption of calcium and magnesium.
Sugar can increase fasting levels of blood glucose.
Sugar can promote tooth decay.
***Sugar can produce an acidic stomach.
Sugar can raise adrenaline levels in children.
Sugar can lead to periodontal disease.
Sugar can speed the aging process, causing wrinkles and grey hair.
***Sugar can increase total cholesterol.
***Sugar can contribute to weight gain and obesity.
High intake of sugar increases the risk of Crohn's disease and ulcerative colitis.
Sugar can contribute to diabetes.
Sugar can contribute to osteoporosis.
Sugar can cause a decrease in insulin sensitivity.
Sugar leads to decreased glucose tolerance.
***Sugar can cause cardiovascular disease.
***Sugar can increase systolic blood pressure.
Sugar causes food allergies.
Sugar can cause free radical formation in the bloodstream.
Sugar can cause toxemia during pregnancy.
Sugar can contribute to eczema in children.
Sugar can overstress the pancreas, causing damage.
***Sugar can cause atherosclerosis.
Sugar can compromise the lining of the capillaries.
Sugar can cause liver cells to divide, increasing the size of the liver.
***Sugar can increase the amount of fat in the liver.
Sugar can increase kidney size and produce pathological changes in the kidney.
Sugar can cause depression.
Sugar can increase the body's fluid retention.
Sugar can cause hormonal imbalance.
***Sugar can cause hypertension.
Sugar can cause headaches, including migraines.
Sugar can cause an increase in delta, alpha and theta brain waves, which can alter the mind's ability to think clearly.
Sugar can increase blood platelet adhesiveness which increases risk of blood clots and strokes.
Sugar can increase insulin responses in those consuming high-sugar diets compared to low sugar diets.
Sugar increases bacterial fermentation in the colon.

If this doesn’t scare you, I don’t know what will. Decreasing the amount of sugar we take in is a very small step towards bettering our health. People look at me like I’m crazy around here when I say I don’t drink sweet tea. In Texas that’s almost like saying you don’t believe in God. And I also don’t allow my children to drink it- yes, there are parents who start their kids on sweet tea in Texas when they are still drinking out of sippy cups! I find it appalling. It is my job as a parent to make responsible, healthy food choices for my children while I still can. They will have all their adult lives to make unhealthy decisions on their own.

So when I don’t want my kids having tea, soda, or ice cream, or any number of other treats…don’t look at me like I’m a bad mom who deprives her children of life’s simple pleasures. Acknowledge the good choice I’m making for them while they’re young- they don’t’ know the difference now anyway. I’m not opposed to an occasional treat-I promise, I do l let them eat cake on their birthday!

They already have risk factors genetically speaking, given what happened to their father. I can’t control that, but what I can control is what they put in their sweet little mouths! And what I put in mine for that matter. It’s a struggle to make all the right food choices, but I’m doing my best to be a responsible parent.

So I’m starting my new year’s resolution now- less sugar for us all in the Simmons house! Think about your own diet and lifestyle and consider a small change you could make for the better- Push yourself to do it! Consider it a gift to those you love to better your own health.

We often say we’d die for the ones we love, instead why don’t we choose to really live for them…

(Stepping down from the soapbox now)