When Feet Simply Will Not Do

Sometime during my college years, my mom gave me a book that would forever change my life. To date, I've read it four times and am about to open it up again.

In all honesty, until my junior year of college, any Jesus focus was for short bursts of sudden emergency-based faith or apathetic at best. The all-too-typical "Christian home" syndrome, wherein you know everything that should be done and said and prayed, but if you are like me, you tend to arch your back against the should. And I say arch because that's how Ramona fights me - it's not a fast recoil or a bolt. In her weakness and unlearned movements, she just arches against my plan.  In short, Jesus wasn't my focus at all. And I'm not sure why she gave me the book when she did. Perhaps she knew my journey would never be an easy traverse across luscious green pastures with butterflies.  And I will say with a heavy caveat, my journey, as compared to many others, has been a walk in the park. Perhaps because most of my journey has been contained in my mind, my body, my weaknesses, my spiritual walk, my marriage, and my wins and losses.

"I must tell you a great truth, Much-Afraid, which only the few understand. All the fairest beauties in the human soul, its greatest victories, and its most splendid achievements are always those which no one else knows anything about, or can only dimly guess at. Every inner response of the human heart to Love and every conquest over self-love is a new flower on the tree of Love."

But the call I feel on my life and with my husband is becoming more apparent the older we get. We have seasons where we drift in and out of this master plan and it's obvious when the drifting has gone too far out. We will struggle to feel purposeful. We will struggle to feel connected. We will struggle to feel joyful. And for me, I will struggle just to feel. And then we will have some moment that will melt my solidified heart and bring be back in.

"Whenever you are willing to obey me, Much-Afraid, and to follow the path of my choice, you will always be able to hear and recognize my voice, and when you hear it you must always obey. Remember also that it is always safe to obey my voice, even if it seems to call you to paths which look impossible or even crazy.” 

I think all too often people confuse the Christian walk as this mystical yellow brick road bringing you home to Jesus. I mean, I'm sure there are some parts that feel that way, but more often than not, my walk is TOTALLY different. It's when I am most committed to prayer and searching for wisdom through the Bible that my life becomes the most stressful. Outside relationships will start to become insanely frustrating. I'll feel like I'm in a funk when I go to church. Everything about church/community will get on my last nerve. I'll suddenly get so judgmental about the most minor aspect of worship or the pastor that I'm entirely missing the point of the sermon. And then the night terrors will happen. The ones where I'm too scared to sleep. The ones where I have to have my husband physically hold me down in the bed because I'm screaming and hyperventilating so badly because of what I see/experience. The ones I have to text or call the 5 or so people who know about what I see and beg them to pray with me so I can sleep. But why would all this attack happen? Why would it all be so difficult? Why would I experience crippling failure and depression? Why would I experience inexplicable fatigue and exhaustion? Why would my anxiety overwhelm me to the point of stagnancy?

"Therefore I begin to think, my Lord, you purposely allow us to be brought into contact with the bad and evil things that you want changed. Perhaps that is the very reason that we are here in this world, where sin and sorrow and suffering and evil abound, so that we may let you teach us so to react to them, that out of them we can create lovely qualities to live forever. That is the only really satisfactory way of dealing with evil, not simply binding it so that it cannot work harm, but whenever possible overcoming it with good."

Because. Because of the hind. A hind is a female deer, specifically a red deer. But throughout literature and the Bible, the deer is commonly referenced for a more specific purpose: its feet.

The ugly, hoof shaped feet of a deer or mountain goat are the very reason it can climb and jump. To quote "the Google" - "The mountain goat's feet are well-suited for climbing steep, rocky slopes with pitches exceeding 60°, with inner pads that provide traction and cloven hooves that can spread apart. The tips of their feet have sharp dewclaws that keep them from slipping." 

“O Shepherd. You said you would make my feet like hinds' feet and set me upon High Places".
"Well", he answered "the only way to develop hinds' feet is to go by the paths which the hinds use.” 

So back to the book.  Hinds' Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard is an allegorical tale featuring Much-Afraid as the protagonist. The journey she takes is treacherous and painful. Her feet are not suited well for the journey. She desperately desires to shake off her fear and dwell on the high places. But her failure, her set backs, and her overwhelming journey is the only way to develop the feet to get her there.

And why has this been on my mind? Well,  I've committed myself to reading the Bible daily. And I'm on the third time of either the verse I'm reading that day or some verse that I come across later on that day/week mentioned turning my feet into the feet of a deer and setting me on high places. I do not believe in coincidence. So all I can do is believe that something is happening to shapen my feet.

Psalm 18:31-33 - "For who is God besides the Lord? And who is the Rock except our God? It is God who arms me with strength and makes my way perfect. He makes my feet like the feet of a deer; he enables me to stand on the heights." And this sentiment is echoed again in Habakkuk 3:18-19 "yet I will rejoice in the Lord, I will be joyful in God my Savior. The Sovereign Lord is my strength; he makes my feet like feet of a deer, he enables me to go on the heights."

And currently, there are just a few things happening that are pretty flippin tough. Relationships that are sucking the joy out of us and our marriage. Failures that are defeating me. Struggle that is painful.  But He is a good Father. We are loved. And He is my strength. And I will not let myself be afraid or try to to picture what it all will be like, when I'm finally on the high places.

“Much-Afraid, don't ever allow yourself to begin trying to picture what it will be like. Believe me, when you get to the place which you dread you will find that they are as different as possible from what you have imagined, just as was the case when you were actually ascending the precipice. I must warn you that I see your enemies lurking among the trees ahead, and if you ever let Craven Fear begin painting a picture on the screen of your imagination, you will walk with fear and trembling and agony, where no fear is."

*** all quotes herein are from Hinds' Feet on High Places by Hannah Hurnard***

Coming of Age - The LONG Story About a Commute Home

I can't even handle the fact that I have a blog and haven't posted since 2014. I think that makes me the worst blogger on the planet. But. Life. So. Much. Life.

I've been thinking A LOT lately about so many aspects of my life, my faith, my future, and my present and that leads me to this zone of not being able to articulate out all my thoughts - which hello blog post.  Way cheaper than therapy and some people enjoy this hot mess...

It's crazy to think that 2014 happened - I was living in Chicago as a brand new attorney. Living this life that I had always dreamed about having and honestly got a little lost because every single goal I ever had -  I had met. I had all these plans and goals and by 25 had flippin nailed them all. Who does that? To the point that I hit this low because all of the sudden I looked up and finally said "well, what now?" because it was over. All of what I had been planning for and been striving to achieve was done. But the beauty of life is it doesn't stop for you to figure out any of those pesky questions - it just pushed me down and on and the world kept spinning.  And there were several bits when the swirling was really hard. I think I lost myself for a bit there. Like pregnant, living with my parents, without a job, wondering what had I done...

But it's 2016. And I'm a mom. A MOM. To the coolest, most beautiful, most wonderful creature I've ever seen. And it's like the entire world has changed and some days it's like nothing will ever change. But - life. Ya know?

Ok. Done with ramblings of the crazy. But I'm sure at least two of you totally understood all of that.

There's too much to try and recap about the life that has gone by in the last two years, but some major points that must be said to make sense: 1) we moved to Florida and 2) we had a baby. Those two things have so many strings attached that were never even contemplated when either of them really came around.

The moving to Florida has been such an experience. We are officially "grown ups". Matt's a full fledged doctor here - working daily with his own patients and helping to grow a practice with the intent to take over. And I'm in a firm that's so right for me it's scary. It's the first time in my life I feel like I can grow my talents and stretch my creative wings in a work environment.

And hello world - RAMONA GRACE. Y'all. We created a baby. This lady. This lady who had this horrific emotional, psychological, and physical meltdown circa 2012 when I was told I couldn't have kids. And then on August 25, 2015, in Montreal, Quebec, in a moment of utter confusion by the single most confusing pregnancy test I've ever encountered, I called in Matt. "If I'm pregnant there's supposed to be a negative sign and then a small plus sign. Is that a plus sign? It looks like a faint plus sign. What does this mean?" And he just laughed and said "I told you - you are pregnant!"

And then it was all a blur. And then she was here. And it's like we were always meant to have her here. And everything just made sense.

But life has not been easy. There have been set backs. But Jesus- oh Jesus in his grace- hit me with the softest failures of my life in the last two years. It's all very long and very detailed, but I've hit a wall with one of my last goals. This goal that I should be able to defeat. This goal that I'm smart enough to handle. I'm smart enough to make it my b****. I'm smart enough to take charge and dominate. And. I. Can't. Win.

And this last time I broke. A full day of wallowing and crying. Turned into two. Turned into three. "God, I just don't get it. What am I supposed to be learning here?" And I had lots of advice from several, reliable, dependable sources. And lots of love. And lots of encouragement. And I had zero tangible, palpable, painful repercussions. I just had grace.

Grace. The overwhelming and powerful presence that we don't deserve. Holy Grace. It's life altering. It's mind blowing. It's the thing that gives you the most perfect baby when you alone cannot. It's the thing that supplies you with not just a job, but a career, even when you don't deserve it.

And on day three, He said 5 small words. Words that have turned me, perhaps not around. Not even back. But my eyes are open. My ears are ready. In short - He - The Creator of the universe. Took the time to tell me - It's not about my failure. That it had nothing to do with what was happening to me. I'm being broken down (in the most gentle way I have ever seen Jesus move) until I am nothing. I. Literally just me. Nothing is being hurt by my failures. Just me. My pride. My brain. My ego. My me. The I is being demolished. And then I heard him say "I'm preparing you for the next."

Hello goosebumps. The next. I have so many friends who are either not Bible toting Baptists, or Grace Loving Presbys, or even believers and this will all seem like that crazy stuff on late night TV evangelism spots for your hot cash dollas. And until you hear Jesus/God - I cannot make you think I'm not crazy. I get it. This sounds crazy. But it's this crystal clear voice. I heard it the day I saw Matt. A complete and utter stranger. Yes, he's attractive, but I didn't know him at all and it was the second day of college. And I saw him sitting outside of the Bio building where we had our chem lecture and I had my iPod blaring. But everything got quiet and I saw him and I heard "that's who you're going to marry." That voice has led me to the most amazing aspects of my life. So yeah, I listen. With baited breath. With anticipation of greatness.

The next. The Coming of Age. All the aforementioned ramblings are to the point of today. I love having a commute. Driving alone and listening to music so loudly it hurts and I can feel the bass in my gut. That's my ideal end of the day. And I've recently changed to a vehicle without Sirius, so I burned a ton of CDs. And on one of my mixes (all of which are named after Mexican food btw, so I have no idea what any of them are... poor planning on my part) the Foster the People song Coming of Age came on. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBqzrj18S2w Listen to it. Don't watch the video. Just listen to it. Loudly.

My mom always told me she had to fight for me. She had a rough pregnancy. Scary rough. And several very spiritually real and terrifying things happened to my mom and to me when I was younger. And I've been all over the path to adulthood with crappy choices. Choices that should have derailed me.  And I've experienced some hauntingly horrific aspects of the spiritual realm that led to months without sleep. And it honestly wasn't until my junior year in college that Jesus handed me this plan called lawyering and said this is what you're going to do.  Flash forward to my biggest place of spiritual growth - The Evanston Vineyard. I had a wonderful mentor pray for me and she spoke a prophecy that she saw me standing on an elevated platform using my position in life to speak for those who cannot speak. And then nothing happened. No white dove. No rainbows. No butterflies. I just kept trudging. And working.

And at my first failure my brother just said at the end of a text "Noah kept building the boat even when it wasn't raining and even when the sky was clear." And at the second failure I said a bunch of apathetical excuses and said I can focus and accomplish. And at the third failure I said "wow I need to get right with Jesus." And I had a win. But I still hadn't won. And then the fourth failure hit. And then it started making sense.

You know the story of Jacob wrestling with the Angel? He was so exhausted. He was so tired. He was weary from the fight. He was too tired to rage. He needed a Coming of Age. He straight up wrestled an Angel of the Lord.  He man handled a heavenly being demanding blessing. All. Night. Long. Do you realize the intensity of the failure there? You are willing to physically assault a creature of heaven until you get an answer of blessing. Y'all I'm there.

So welcome back. Welcome back to the transparency that might make you uncomfortable. And it might change your opinion of me. And that's ok. Because I am stumbling. I am stumbling after a Holy God. And a next that I cannot even fathom. I'm wrestling. I'm desperately clinging to His robe, begging for blessing.  This is my Coming of Age. I cannot move on until there is no me left in my thought process - just Christ allowing me, guiding me, moving me, inspiring me. And that is where I'm picking my pieces back up. I'm not letting go. This is me. This is us. This is life.

And it is so beautiful.

Coming of Age - The LONG Story About a Commute Home

I can't even handle the fact that I have a blog and haven't posted since 2014. I think that makes me the worst blogger on the planet. But. Life. So. Much. Life.

I've been thinking A LOT lately about so many aspects of my life, my faith, my future, and my present and that leads me to this zone of not being able to articulate out all my thoughts - which hello blog post.  Way cheaper than therapy and some people enjoy this hot mess...

It's crazy to think that 2014 happened - I was living in Chicago as a brand new attorney. Living this life that I had always dreamed about having and honestly got a little lost because every single goal I ever had -  I had met. I had all these plans and goals and by 25 had flippin nailed them all. Who does that? To the point that I hit this low because all of the sudden I looked up and finally said "well, what now?" because it was over. All of what I had been planning for and been striving to achieve was done. But the beauty of life is it doesn't stop for you to figure out any of those pesky questions - it just pushed me down and on and the world kept spinning.  And there were several bits when the swirling was really hard. I think I lost myself for a bit there. Like pregnant, living with my parents, without a job, wondering what had I done...

But it's 2016. And I'm a mom. A MOM. To the coolest, most beautiful, most wonderful creature I've ever seen. And it's like the entire world has changed and some days it's like nothing will ever change. But - life. Ya know?

Ok. Done with ramblings of the crazy. But I'm sure at least two of you totally understood all of that.

There's too much to try and recap about the life that has gone by in the last two years, but some major points that must be said to make sense: 1) we moved to Florida and 2) we had a baby. Those two things have so many strings attached that were never even contemplated when either of them really came around.

The moving to Florida has been such an experience. We are officially "grown ups". Matt's a full fledged doctor here - working daily with his own patients and helping to grow a practice with the intent to take over. And I'm in a firm that's so right for me it's scary. It's the first time in my life I feel like I can grow my talents and stretch my creative wings in a work environment.

And hello world - RAMONA GRACE. Y'all. We created a baby. This lady. This lady who had this horrific emotional, psychological, and physical meltdown circa 2012 when I was told I couldn't have kids. And then on August 25, 2015, in Montreal, Quebec, in a moment of utter confusion by the single most confusing pregnancy test I've ever encountered, I called in Matt. "If I'm pregnant there's supposed to be a negative sign and then a small plus sign. Is that a plus sign? It looks like a faint plus sign. What does this mean?" And he just laughed and said "I told you - you are pregnant!"

And then it was all a blur. And then she was here. And it's like we were always meant to have her here. And everything just made sense.

But life has not been easy. There have been set backs. But Jesus- oh Jesus in his grace- hit me with the softest failures of my life in the last two years. It's all very long and very detailed, but I've hit a wall with one of my last goals. This goal that I should be able to defeat. This goal that I'm smart enough to handle. I'm smart enough to make it my b****. I'm smart enough to take charge and dominate. And. I. Can't. Win.

And this last time I broke. A full day of wallowing and crying. Turned into two. Turned into three. "God, I just don't get it. What am I supposed to be learning here?" And I had lots of advice from several, reliable, dependable sources. And lots of love. And lots of encouragement. And I had zero tangible, palpable, painful repercussions. I just had grace.

Grace. The overwhelming and powerful presence that we don't deserve. Holy Grace. It's life altering. It's mind blowing. It's the thing that gives you the most perfect baby when you alone cannot. It's the thing that supplies you with not just a job, but a career, even when you don't deserve it.

And on day three, He said 5 small words. Words that have turned me, perhaps not around. Not even back. But my eyes are open. My ears are ready. In short - He - The Creator of the universe. Took the time to tell me - It's not about my failure. That it had nothing to do with what was happening to me. I'm being broken down (in the most gentle way I have ever seen Jesus move) until I am nothing. I. Literally just me. Nothing is being hurt by my failures. Just me. My pride. My brain. My ego. My me. The I is being demolished. And then I heard him say "I'm preparing you for the next."

Hello goosebumps. The next. I have so many friends who are either not Bible toting Baptists, or Grace Loving Presbys, or even believers and this will all seem like that crazy stuff on late night TV evangelism spots for your hot cash dollas. And until you hear Jesus/God - I cannot make you think I'm not crazy. I get it. This sounds crazy. But it's this crystal clear voice. I heard it the day I saw Matt. A complete and utter stranger. Yes, he's attractive, but I didn't know him at all and it was the second day of college. And I saw him sitting outside of the Bio building where we had our chem lecture and I had my iPod blaring. But everything got quiet and I saw him and I heard "that's who you're going to marry." That voice has led me to the most amazing aspects of my life. So yeah, I listen. With baited breath. With anticipation of greatness.

The next. The Coming of Age. All the aforementioned ramblings are to the point of today. I love having a commute. Driving alone and listening to music so loudly it hurts and I can feel the bass in my gut. That's my ideal end of the day. And I've recently changed to a vehicle without Sirius, so I burned a ton of CDs. And on one of my mixes (all of which are named after Mexican food btw, so I have no idea what any of them are... poor planning on my part) the Foster the People song Coming of Age came on. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MBqzrj18S2w Listen to it. Don't watch the video. Just listen to it. Loudly.

My mom always told me she had to fight for me. She had a rough pregnancy. Scary rough. And several very spiritually real and terrifying things happened to my mom and to me when I was younger. And I've been all over the path to adulthood with crappy choices. Choices that should have derailed me.  And I've experienced some hauntingly horrific aspects of the spiritual realm that led to months without sleep. And it honestly wasn't until my junior year in college that Jesus handed me this plan called lawyering and said this is what you're going to do.  Flash forward to my biggest place of spiritual growth - The Evanston Vineyard. I had a wonderful mentor pray for me and she spoke a prophecy that she saw me standing on an elevated platform using my position in life to speak for those who cannot speak. And then nothing happened. No white dove. No rainbows. No butterflies. I just kept trudging. And working.

And at my first failure my brother just said at the end of a text "Noah kept building the boat even when it wasn't raining and even when the sky was clear." And at the second failure I said a bunch of apathetical excuses and said I can focus and accomplish. And at the third failure I said "wow I need to get right with Jesus." And I had a win. But I still hadn't won. And then the fourth failure hit. And then it started making sense.

You know the story of Jacob wrestling with the Angel? He was so exhausted. He was so tired. He was weary from the fight. He was too tired to rage. He needed a Coming of Age. He straight up wrestled an Angel of the Lord.  He man handled a heavenly being demanding blessing. All. Night. Long. Do you realize the intensity of the failure there? You are willing to physically assault a creature of heaven until you get an answer of blessing. Y'all I'm there.

So welcome back. Welcome back to the transparency that might make you uncomfortable. And it might change your opinion of me. And that's ok. Because I am stumbling. I am stumbling after a Holy God. And a next that I cannot even fathom. I'm wrestling. I'm desperately clinging to His robe, begging for blessing.  This is my Coming of Age. I cannot move on until there is no me left in my thought process - just Christ allowing me, guiding me, moving me, inspiring me. And that is where I'm picking my pieces back up. I'm not letting go. This is me. This is us. This is life.

And it is so beautiful.

Are We Eager to do Good?

It is with great reservation that I take on a blog post about faith and/or righteousness. I can talk about face wash or diet plans all day because I know that even if I seem cray cray- it's so irrelevant. The grand scheme of things isn't about my "crunchy" journey. But Jesus and I have been on a journey for the last 5 years and I'm slowly and rather stupidly only now seeing this bigger picture of what my "walk" with Christ is supposed to look like.

 I think we so easily look at "better Christians" and assume their faith must be more powerful than our own. Why? Because we all sin differently. The differentiation between our sins and our transgressions does not create a stratified atmosphere of Christianity whereby we must remain in our caste system. What is should create is the body of Christ. As I was reminded yesterday by the husband of one of my friends, "we should be rejoicing, instead of rationalizing". Boom. Seriously chew on that for a bit. We call ourselves sinners because in our imperfect nature as humans, we sin. But Jesus doesn't call us that- our Holy God doesn't call us that. The moment Jesus gave up his life for us and we accepted the amazing challenge of acknowledging that only through the grace and the blood of Jesus can we be sanctified - we were then daughters and sons of the King. And instead of basking and rejoicing in that, we rationalize our sin, our distance from God, our insecurities, our lack of faith and trust, and ultimately our walk with Christ.

So what does it mean then to be a Christian? I simply say I'm a Christian, as in a follower of Jesus. Frankly, breaking down what denomination I actually am is more confusing than pointedly declaring that all that human interference is not the point of my, dare I say, "religion". Instead I have this beautiful relationship with a Holy God which consumes my life. At least, it should. Which brings me to the point of this blog and what ultimately brought me to my knees.

Have you ever felt like you were under attack from friends, family, co-workers, heck, even strangers? Do you know right now if any person has "dirt" on you? Could anybody speak hateful things about you? Are you generally afraid of the hurdles life throws in this midst of your race?

At some point, I know I could answer yes to all of those. Why? Because I am a control freak. I want to hold on to each plan because "I can do it all by myself". Because in the pursuit of getting my plan accomplished, I mow people down and answer with a harsh word. Because I have the mouth of a sailor. Because I am not kind, gentle, full of mercy, and rarely am I self controlled. Sound familiar?

This is not Sarah behind a pulpit preaching- this is me airing my dirty laundry and praying it touches some of yours and we can ask our Daddy to help us be washed and transformed.

So let's be serious, nothing is new under the sun. Like nothing. Because everything I just mentioned as my struggles has been struggled with before. But guess what? Our guide book, the Bible, has some words to drop some knowledge on us about this very thing. 

Enter 1 Peter 3:8-16: "Finally, all of you, live in harmony with one another, be sympathetic, love as brothers, be compassionate and humble. Do not repay evil with evil or insult with insult, but rather with blessing, because to this you were called so that you may inherit a blessing. For 'whoever would love life and see good days must keep his tongue from evil and his lips from deceitful speech. He must turn from evil and do good; he must seek peace and pursue it. For the eyes of The Lord are on the righteous and his ears are attentive to their prayer, but the face of The Lord is against those who do evil.' Who is going to harm you if you are eager to do good? But even if you suffer for what is right, you're blessed. Do not fear what they fear, do not be frightened. But in your hearts set apart Christ as Lord. Always be prepared to give an answer to everyone who asks you to give reason for the hope that you have. But do this with gentleness and respect, keeping a clear conscience, so that those who speak maliciously against your good behavior in Christ, may be ashamed of their slander." 

Feel free to pause to digest. You may need to read it like a bazillion times to take the full weight. Humbled yet?

 I know I read it a couple time a week and still am pounded by it. Live in harmony. Be sympathetic. Love as brothers. Who is going to harm me if I'm eager to do good? Don't even fear what they fear, Sarah. You set apart in your heart that Christ is The Lord and you are not, Sarah. Always have a gentle answer explaining my hope in Christ. 

It's overwhelming to see that in 8 verses, we can be challenged so far beyond what puny faith and flawed holiness we currently present to God. But that one line- who is going to harm you if you're eager to do good- is what resonates with me. Have I ever once been described as a woman who was eager to do good? If not, why not? 

I do not want to end this post on some high note. I don't think it's appropriate. I want to end this with the challenge. Let's be eager to do what is good. Let's seek peace and pursue it. Who can harm us if we are seeking peace and pursuing what is good in the eyes of The Lord? Nobody. Be prepared for a spiritual attack when that's your pursuit. Satan doesn't want anywhere near this challenge. So let's stand firm. Let's put on the full armor of God. Let's go out into the world, being eager to do what is good. 

Polycystic Ovary/ Ovarian Syndrome: How something as small as a cyst can alter every day living

*****CAUTION******  *****WARNING***** This post is open, honest and about ovaries, birth control, and all things associated with that jazz! If that is a problem, then maybe skip this post?!!


First, let me apologize for my delay in posting.  I had a hope of being able to post weekly, but life got the best of me.  I will work on it!

So here's a little story about Polycystic Ovary or Ovarian Syndrome or PCOS.  Here's the catch though- this is my little story.  I am not a doctor.  I am a daughter of one, a sister of one, a niece of some, and a wife of one. My experience is unique and my goals and wellness plan are as well.  This is not meant to treat or diagnose any reader, but rather give an honest account of my dealings while maybe reaching out to a reader who is struggling with the same symptoms etc.

Enter summer of 2012.  I decided that I no longer wanted to take birth control.  I hated having to take it.  I hated the side effects.  I hated knowing that I was ingesting synthetic hormones.  Everything about it bothered me.  So why was I on it?

I have had acne since basically I can remember. And around 2008, my face went cray cray.  It blew up. Cystic acne is not fun. Although most common in males, I had it. ALL OVER MY FACE.  It was horrible.  My skin was actually hot around the cysts and there is nothing that was working.  In the midst of this painfully embarrassing moment of my life, I tried Pro-Activ. It made it worse.  I apparently was allergic to the main active ingredient: benzoyl peroxide.  So at this stage, I went and saw another dermatologist.

 At that point in my life, I had been to several dermatologists.  I was put on special creams, special washes, special moist towelettes that stained everything known to man, I was put on special pills and in the middle of college I finally wasn't on anything. I had taken a break from all the "miracle cures" because nothing had changed. And then boom explosive acne.  It was later coined "Tampa made me ugly". My roomies remembered my lamentations over my once beautiful hair and skin being "ruined" by Tampa water.  Now looking back, this probably had very little to do with the water and much more to do with a powerful combination of my hormones going crazy and my diet attacking me from the inside while manifesting its anger on the outside.

In 2008 is when I finally took the almighty step of last resort and took Accutane. Any person who has taken it will shudder and fondly recall their days of blood work, chap stick and whatever side effect plagued them.  In short, accutane stops oil production.  Well, God made our bodies to produce oil, so it's probably not safe to stop it.  In fact, this drug is now off the market because of the harsh side effects and the potential for severe emotional breakdowns (which led to suicide, allegedly, for multiple people).  I have mixed reviews on the emotional side.  Having horrific acne can bring an ego down much worse than imaginable. People are not kind. Being over the age of 15 with acne made me and often makes me more self conscious than I would like to say.

So a major side effect with accutane is that if you become preggo, you may have a weird, cone head baby.  At least that's what the warning was. So it was mandatory to be on the pill. Regardless of my very long conversation with my dermatologist about how I was not "sexually active" because I wasn't married.  He was confused and said listen, you have to be on the pill regardless of your life choices because I am legally liable if you have a cone head baby. (lawyers - always the lawyers and the liability)

 Enter my origin of this convo: THE PILL.  So I started. I was put on Yaz, I think, and did fine. I had no reactions.  I did have a period of vomiting for like two weeks, but that went away when I altered my accutane schedule to not mix with my pill schedule.  I was not on the pill for any sexual reasons so I was not consistent. I was haphazard at best.  And when my accutane time ended, me and my beautiful skin, quit taking the pill.

In 2009, I became engaged.  So January of 2010, I went back on the pill so that by the time I was married, I would have a routine and we get where I am going... I was now on the pill for its intended purpose- to prevent a baby. Round one, I was put on Ortho-Tri Cyclen, lo. It was cheap and I was on board. Until the side effects hit. My side effect was all the veins in my legs swelling, shooting pains in my legs, laying on my couch crying because of how much pain I was in, and wanting to die.  I called my GYNO and obviously she freaked, thinking I was in the midst of horrific blood clotting after 3 days.  Well, as it weirdly turns out, my mom and sister had the same reactions to anything in the "Ortho" family.  So, I had to go back to the doctor and we went for another option: Yaz.  I loved it.  I had no issues.  My acne was ok, never anything crazy. My face broke out, but I had never been back to the cysts.

Well then I moved to Illinois. And was no longer on my parents' Florida Blue Cross/ Blue Shield.  Thus, my Yaz wasn't cheap anymore.  It was 96 to 110 dollars a month. OUCH. No thank you.  So back to the GYNO I went and basically was put on the second cheapest, non- Ortho option, and it was something that started with the letter F and I cannot remember the name.  I didn't hate it.  But, my mammary glands would swell every month.  It was horribly painful.  I couldn't lift my arms during my cycle and finally was getting really concerned about what the pill was doing to my body.

During that time is when my periods became unbearable.  I was on 500mg to 1000mg of painkillers, as prescribed by my GYNO.  At one point, I was put on some narcotic that I couldn't take for more than 7 days because it had a tendency of shutting down kidneys if taken over 7 days. Yeah super comforting.  Each time I described my pain, my GYNO would simply pull out the Rx pad and say here ya go.  I was getting really ticked off that I wasn't being heard.  I wasn't having bad cramps.  Something was wrong with me.  It wasn't a mild period.  It was a horrible experience every 32 days that would make me either useless because I was so drugged at school or work (ps I was in law school and working) or I would have to take a "personal day", where I would be on the couch with a heating pad all day.  With each year the periods became more painful.  By 23, they were horrible and my body was completely  numb to each new pill I was told to take to "help me".

Then there were the random occurrences that started coming all at once: hello facial hair. Oh  yeah, chin hairs and jaw line hairs and cheek hairs that are exactly like my husband's beard. Oh yeah that's friggin sweet.  I would pluck and they would be back the next day - sometimes thicker and more angry than before.  So here I am: ovaries killing me, growing my man beard, acne coming back with a vengeance and with cyctic hatred, when I notice that I have horrible pain in one spot in my lower stomach.  All the time.  I have an extremely high pain tolerance so I just kept on chuggin.  I mean, who can really take off time from life because of pain?

So July of 2012, I decided that this pill crap isn't for me anymore and I stopped taking it. My husband knew my plan and we decided that all the potential harm wasn't outweighing the good.  And then we waited.  My stomach pain increased.  My man beard grew fiercely strong. And I didn't have a period for over 4 months. So began my research...

And I learned about PCOS. And here are the top three symptoms:

• Menstrual abnormality. This is the most common characteristic. Examples of menstrual abnormality include menstrual intervals longer than 35 days; fewer than eight menstrual cycles a year; failure to menstruate for four months or longer; and prolonged periods that may be scant or heavy.
• Excess androgen. Elevated levels of male hormones (androgens) may result in physical signs, such as excess facial and body hair (hirsutism), adult acne or severe adolescent acne, and male-pattern baldness (androgenic alopecia). However, the physical signs of androgen excess vary with ethnicity, so depending on your ethnic background you may or may not show signs of excess androgen. For instance, women of Northern European or Asian descent may not be affected.
• Polycystic ovaries. Enlarged ovaries containing numerous small cysts can be detected by ultrasound. Despite the condition's name, polycystic ovaries alone do not confirm the diagnosis. To be diagnosed with PCOS, you must also have abnormal menstrual cycles or signs of androgen excess. Some women with polycystic ovaries may not have PCOS, while a few women with the condition have ovaries that appear normal.

I had the first two. Or at least I thought I did.  So I scheduled an appointment with a new GYNO and was prepared to discuss the possibility of PCOS.  6 days before I went to my appointment, I had the single worst period I have ever had.  At some point, I had so heavily drugged myself that I called my mom crying asking her to take me to the hospital because I was dying, and I never remember one moment of that.  I cannot recall a time when I was in that much pain. FOR 5 FRIGGIN DAYS. I wanted to die.

I go in to the appointment and explain all my symptoms.  How there is something wrong with me far beyond the normal period.  My doctor, although nice, says, well, although you seem to have the symptoms, you're not obese.  PCOS only happens to obese women. Well, although I am not a doctor, I had done extensive amounts of research. PCOS does occur in larger women, but it's because of an interlocking system of how our hormones are produced.  Our adrenal glands and fat levels have a huge impact on our body's ability to regulate hormones.  And as previously mentioned in another post, I have major issues with my adrenal glands.  Another red flag was that apparently to this MD, all PCOS patients needed to present with the textbook symptoms in order to be diagnosed.  Hello, that's not even remotely how the real world works.

So she ordered blood work and a trans-vaginal ultrasound. Ugh and ouch. So I go back to my follow up appointment and she explains that I have elevated testosterone and androgens.  I also have a cyst on my right ovary - that spot which had been hurting now for over a year. And then she dropped the hammer: you will not be able to have children or if by some miracle, it will be very difficult to become pregnant, so you need to start now if you want to even have a chance.  Wait, what?  I was 23. I was just wanting validation that something was wrong with me so that I could fix it. I wasn't ready for that. And the way it was said was so swift. I hadn't had this conversation with my husband.  Kids were an arrogant assumption of the future.  And I was alone sitting in a room being told it wasn't even an option. Or if it could possibly be, I needed to drop my life and start making babies. No, I couldn't and wouldn't do that. Enter the spiral of the fall of 2012.

My cyst was too small (aka not worth any doctor's time) to remove, but it was wrecking havoc on my body.  There is no cure to PCOS, only maintenance. So I was put back on the pill.  But because I have such elevated levels of man hormones I was put onto massive quantities of synthetic estrogen.  And thus I gained weight. In my gut. Like a pregnant woman.  And I cried. About every. stinking. thing. And I still had acne.  And I still had painful periods.  And I was about to have a lot of serious conversations.

First, I emailed my family. My parents were the only ones to respond.  I think everybody else was just too scared or weirded out to ask how I was doing. I didn't expect much, but they needed to know, in the event that this baby roller coaster ever got out of the station, I didn't want speculation or opinions.  Then there were the hundreds of tearful conversations with my husband. I felt like a damaged piece of goods. I know Matthew wants kids and I suddenly was the object which was never going to provide my womanly duties.  And that is why this post is necessary. If any of this sounds like you, you are NOT alone.  You are NOT worthless.  You are NOT incurable. You are simply at an impasse and must decide if you are going to be proactive or reactive.

Opening up and talking about PCOS has led me to many beautiful conversations of hope and love.  I am fascinated by how many women I am around  who have PCOS. This should be a much scarier idea than the average American notes.  Hundreds of thousands of women in this country have a disease which jacks up their hormones and makes them unable to produce eggs. Why? Nobody knows according to the MD world. Well, I think we have figured it out. What we put it and on our bodies is damaging them much more than we think.

The person who loves me enough to heal my body.

Well here we are in 2014.  And my husband, pictured above on our recent camping trip to North Dakota, loves me enough to fix me.  My GYNO was upset when I refused to see an endocrinologist.  I asked if this specialist would heal me or simply medicate me, and when she replied the latter, I refused.  I haven't been back to the GYNO since.  Instead, my husband (DC) and I took my health and wellness into our own hands. And here is where we are at:

1) Diet Change or a cleanse was key.  I followed this PCOS cleanse, nearly the entire time, and felt a positive change.  Now, I am on a gluten free, dairy free path and I am worlds better.  My acne is less noticeable if noticeable at all.  My break outs are only happening when I get off the healthy diet path and eat gluten or dairy. I also only buy meat which has never been on any hormone or antibiotic.  Expensive option, but really, the only option I have.

2) Reducing the amount of parabens I consume.  I really do not care who disagrees with me on this one.  But that giant organ, your skin, absorbs all those parabens.  Parabens are known to cause reproductive toxicity and hormonal imbalance. Hello. That's my life.  I now make my own "shampoo" and conditioner, face wash and facial moisturizer.  I only use 6 ingredient or less hair care products which do not have parabens. I used totally organic and toxic free deodorant. I switched all my makeup to paraben free Physician's Formula. And my skin and hair look and feel better.

Oil Cleansing supplies

3) Supplements.  My husband wants a baby.  He wants one so badly that he has spent countless hours learning how to heal me.  Each morning I take the following:

•    Black cohosh - to help with mood swings, night sweats, bloating and cramps
•    Vitex (chaste berry) - to balance hormones, promote fertility and promote overall menstrual health
•    Licorice Root - to help maintain proper hormone production and release, as well as balance my hormones
• White Peony - combined with the licorice root, it performs better, this relaxes my muscles and reduces painful menstruation, while lowering my serum and testosterone levels.
• Evening Primrose - helps to increase cervical mucous & metabolic function
• CoQ10 - this is an antioxidant which almost every cells uses which greatly increases the functioning of my liver, kidneys and heart - aka it takes a lot of stress off my liver and kidneys to filter out the bad
• Vitamin D -helps with immune support and bone health

Each evening I take the following: 

• Omega 3 - contains DHA/EPA - good for cholesterol and brain health
• A women's multi-vitamin - primarily picked for the chromium which is good for enhancing my body's reaction to insulin (PCOS causes most women to be insulin resistant) 
• Dong Quai -  treats symptoms of PMS and menopause, reduces cramping, and liver toxins.
• Milk Thislte - protect the liver and helps detoxify synthetic chemicals from the body
• N-Acetyl Cysteine (NAC) - antioxidant which helps the liver, helps with insulin sensitivity, controls glucose levels, and has been known to prevent cancer of the lungs (added benefit)
• Lysine - boost immune system, reduces anxiety and assists in repairing tissue
• Adrenal pills- this was previously mentioned in my Adrenal blog - these moderate cortisol in my body, as well as regulate my adrenal glands so they properly function.

When we first started experimenting with my supplements

So where are we at? Good news!!!!! I am off the pill.  I just had a normal menstruation without the help of anything synthetic.  My diet, paraben free lifestyle and supplement regime has regulated my body.  I am currently still experiencing mild to moderate pain at the site of my cyst.  I begin an acupuncture regime next to eliminate that bad boy altogether. My acne is greatly reduced.  I basically have eliminated any extra hair growth.  I'm almost back "to normal". 

There is hope.  There is health.  And there is wellness.  It is not found at your pharmacist in a lovely packaged 28 day cycle.  It is found in your food, your products, your choices, and your commitment to the program.  We by no means think we are out of the woods.  But, we are well on our way to an answer and if God allows us, a baby one day.  The good news is that my ovaries are working.  I have dropped some weight since coming off the pill, which has been nice. But my goals remain the same: being well is most important. The road to wellness is a crunchy one.  It is all about going back to the basics and not eating the SAD (Standard American Diet) way.  It's not easy at first.  But it does become routine. And  your life and well-being are really worth the struggle.

Thanks for reading this super long post.  If you have any questions, please feel free to ask! 

Addison's Disease and Adrenal Fatigue Syndrome... Why Life in My Shoes is a Bit Harder than it Appears

So let's go back to my senior year of college.  I had 18 credits, two or three jobs, I was engaged, and was attempting to manage the every growing stress of getting into law school and understanding what to do with "my future".  And I often ignored the warning signs that I was not "just tired" or "needed a break", I was actually quite ill.

After 8+ hours of studying physics (just in case I still decided to go to medical school) and this would be after work, note the coffee in hand.

And so it hit me all at once.  It was 3am.  I was in an ice cold bath in my apartment in Tampa.  The bathtub filled with some Aveno Oatmeal bath stuff - specifically for people with skin conditions.  I had never really thought anything about how itchy I was all the time.  It was a weird itching sensation.  I would shower and my legs would itch as though something were attacking me from the inside. Scratching did nothing. Lotion did nothing. I'd have to rub ice down my legs and throw on sweatpants with lotion to mildly calm my leg itching down.  I used special body wash, special lotion, had emergency lotions in my purses and all over the house, just in case I got itchy.  Yet, for some reason, I didn't think that there may be a bigger issue.  That 3am bath was a wake up call.  I had started itching around 10 and NOTHING was helping.  I had taken several benedryl and claritons. I had used everything I owned to attempt to combat the intolerable and insatiable itch. And so I finally called my PCP (primary care physician) aka my dad.

Valid, a 3am phone call is not something you want to hear from your daughter, but worse is when you answer and she's crying.  I basically spewed out all my itchy symptoms.  He calmly listened and then started asking me strange series of questions. Had my asthma been bad this year?  How were my allergies this past season? Had I been having a number of sinus infections lately? Did I have difficulty waking up in the morning? Had my PMS been worse in recent years? And the list went on.  Unfortunately, I was answering yes to every single question.  Then he asked me how I had been feeling.  I mentioned how bad my entire body ached.  All the time.  And I mentioned that I was concerned I had fibromyalgia. And that's when daddio dropped a bombshell. "Sarah, your adrenal glands are shutting down."

Come again? I knew vaguely about these glands as in I knew they existed.  I didn't understand the vital role these babies played in my life.  Or how my life was about to drastically change. I had adrenal supplements in my house.  I was supposed to be taking a routine set of vitamins daily.  My mom spent a lot of time, effort, and money to supply me with vitamins.  But I was careless with my health. I rarely took vitamins at all.  And suddenly I was to take 6 of these vitamins on the hour, every hour, until I stopped itching. And so the picture below is the supplement that basically held me together for the last 4 years.

But the thing I remember most  is what my dad said after "your adrenal glands are shutting down", he said, "Sarah, if you can't control this in the next 12 hours, you have to go to the hospital because you have the beginning of Addison's." I was 20.  I had a lot going on.  My first thought was how I didn't have time to be diseased. It's surprising how arrogant we are even when met with the sheer fragility of our own physical beings.  I laid in that tub for a couple of hours. Around 7am, I called Matt to come over and told him everything my dad said.  And so his first reaction "where are these pills?? Take a bagzillion of them!!"

What is Addison's? According to the Mayo Clinic it's a potentially life threatening disease.  I had to do my research.  I actually wasn't even sure what exactly was about to happen to me. See the thing is that the adrenal glands produce a major component of what we need to live. Adrenal glands produce hormones such as estrogen, progesterone, steroids, cortisol, and cortisone, and chemicals such as adrenalin (epinephrine), norepinephrine, and dopamine. When the glands produce more or less hormones than required by the body, disease conditions may occur. See what had happened to me is my extremely low cortisol levels meant that not enough cortisol was being sent to stimulate the Mast Cells, which produce histamine. Thus, my body had none. And my body was itching for months on end before this melt down as a way of yelling out "HEY SARAH SOMETHING IS NOT OK IN HERE" and I just ignored the signs. All of the signs. Including the major signs which had become a family joke: feed Sarah and she will pass out asleep in a few minutes.  My dad told me I was hypoglycemic sometime in high school.  I was to monitor my eating habits and make sure I ate something nutritious every few hours. I did eat every few hours, but primarily because I was a teenager with a crazy metabolism and was constantly hungry. Even though we knew I had a "problem", I was so active and functional, that none of us really pursued it further.

To-go container in my lap. I could pass out asleep anywhere.

The first major sign I can now recall was in 2007.  I was working at a Starbucks inside a Target and while speaking to another employee just slowly fell to the ground. I was so dizzy I couldn't even stand up.  Somebody took me home or I drove in that condition (yikes) and came home and crashed. My dad came home from work and check on me and it happened to be that I had a horrific sinus infection that had turned into an atrocious inner and middle ear infection.

Me directly after the dizzy episode at work. I'm pretty sure I stayed on that couch for about a day or two. 

And for the next few years I would take my vitamins religiously, then forget about them, then feel weak, exhausted, and itchy, then become vigiliant again. It was a vicious cycle.  And somewhere in that process, my mother sent me the book that would change my life: Adrenal Fatigue: The 21st Century Stress Syndrome. I read page after page defining my symptoms. Showing me things that made everything worse. Things that I had been doing for years! The large amounts of coffee I was drinking was killing my adrenals.  My beloved grapefruit diets were destroying my adrenals.  All my complaints and issues were at some point and time traceable back to my stinkin adrenal glands. The next few "charts" or "graphs" will essentially elaborate my point:

I think you get the point.  I had all the major players present and I was killing my own body with diet and stress.  I was a pretty healthy eater - always had been. But my caffeine intake was out of control and I was consistently giving in to my foods that harmed my body. 

Well, you may be wondering, "why haven't I really heard about this stuff?" Well here's a big shocker (only to those of you who think that the MDs and FDA and CDC have your back) most doctors, including endocrinologists, are NOT, again I repeat, NOT taught about adrenal fatigue, more commonly called hypoadrenia, in any of their schooling.  They are not prepared to deal with a patient who presents these symptoms and therefore they give altogether wrong diagnoses - as in fibromyalgia (which we shall save for another post). To quote the wise Dr. Wilson "Despite the fact that subclinical hypoadrenia was recognized as a distinct syndrome in earlier 20th century, there is little acknowledgement of it today.  With only a few rare exceptions, the only form of hypoadrenia recognized by medicine is Addison's disease. . . but adrenal fatigue, a condition that affects many more people than Addison's and Cushing's (a disease of extremely high levels of cortisol caused mostly by steroid drugs) combined, is rarely, if ever, mentioned." 

Here's the really bad thing: lab tests that would actually show what TYPE of adrenal issues you have are not covered by most, I dare say all, insurance plans. It should be no surprise then that doctors are not taught to utilize their observation and deduction skills to think, hey, this could be an adrenal issue.  Lyrica, the most common drug prescribed for fibromyalgia runs about $96.00 per Rx without insurance. It's a big money maker to "reduce pain" without solving issues.  Furthermore, because medical doctors are only taught about Addison's, the only tests they would assume to run would be for Addison's.  But there are many types of adrenal fatigue.  It's not a "one size fits all" sickness.

So here's my suggestion: if you're reading this and you think,"hey I have a lot of these problems", I would say to stop what you're doing, get on Amazon, and buy the book.  It will change your life.  Second, I would find a DC or ND or DO who understands the variations of adrenal fatigue and have such a health care provider help steer you into a new world of health and wellness.  Third, drastically change your diet. I now only drink maybe 8oz to 16oz of coffee a day.  There are weeks when I will go without caffeine for 3-4 days altogether.  My adrenals thank me for it. Fourth, supplements will radically change your life.  I'm not talking about the stuff you get at CVS. I'm talking about legit supplements. No fillers or frills.  The adrenal supplements I take actually have dried bits of adrenal glands from pigs. They are disgusting to take. I take 4 a day. Every day.  I also have a husband who is awesome and now crafts my daily vitamin routine to make sure that my body is running at the top of its game.

Why I wrote this - because the struggle is real.  I will never be "well".  I just had oral surgery and haven't taken my vitamins and 5 days and boom - here's my chronic sinus infection hitting me.  I haven had sinus infection issues since 2007.  I get sick easily.  I stay sick longer than most.  I can't pull all-nighters and be ok. Law school stress nearly killed my body, on more than one occasion. It is more difficult for me to do "normal" things.  My adrenal glands run my life.  I am still a work on progress, but I am striving to daily choose to make them well and to attempt to be healthy.  So before you think that "Sarah, you're like always sick" realize that my body is not ok.  It struggles to function most days. Personally, I think I deserve a medal for making it this far into life and only having a few people who know about what is actually wrong with me.

But mainly, I want there to be an awareness that Adrenal Fatigue Syndrome could be knocking at your door... Make sure you know the warning signs.

The Road to Crunchy is Paved with Good Intentions (and hateful skin reactions)

So let's talk about armpits. Oh yeah, that's what I said. But first, let's clear up some terminology.

You may be thinking, "what is this crunchy crap Sarah is always talking about?" Insert definition via logic equation: Crunchy is to Granola as Granola is to Hippie. You follow that? Need something more concrete? Crunchy Definition via Urban Dictionary. Take out the left-leaning political hoopla and insert right-leaning, follower of Jesus libertarian, and you've got your picture of me as Crunchy.

The "modern hippie" as Google Images puts it

It's complex. There's an inner hippie inside me who just wants to not wear shoes and be free.  I want to smell the salt and sun in my hair. I want to eat food that I know how and where it was grown.  I want to hold on to the farming past of this nation and understand that God gave us dominion and control over animals, but that didn't mean corporate misconduct for profit margins.  I want people to understand that the FDA and the CDC don't have your back. But your garden in the back yard or your neighbor bartering freshly laid eggs from his hens for your tomatoes, they have your back. I want life to be simple and pure. I want my kids to understand the value of digging in the dirt to grow something we eat. I want my kids to know how important it is to value and respect life, even if it is something we kill to eat. And I want to understand and to raise another generation to understand that we take from the earth only what we need, because we share it with so many other people. The complexity is found in the fact that I live in a fast paced city, in a corporate/professional setting, and it's hard to balance the two.

Health and wellness are not found in the pharmacy or on the aisles of a Wal-mart. Nor are they found in the endless commercials for new "miracle drugs" with countless reactions and death warnings.  It's found in daily decisions to take nutrition seriously, eating to live, eating to be healthy, and making educated decisions as to what is going on that giant, breathing organ we know as skin. Your skin is alive.  It's absorbing EVERYTHING you put on it. Take a brief moment and really think that through. So with current studies questioning things like parabens,among the countless other ingredients in everything we put on our skin, I'm starting to dig deeper, ignore what our consumer culture is pushing on me, and realize that if I make it or know the 7 ingredients in it, it's probably less crazy to be put on my skin.

The main things I am looking for: 1) dispelling toxins from my body; 2) putting only things I know are good for me on my skin; 3) pushing back from the mass-marketed, consuming culture we are surrounded by to support local economy and personal creation;  4) making sure that whatever I am putting on my skin isn't being injected into bunnies or guinea pigs just so I can wear makeup; and 5) still smell clean and look pretty.

And giant loop back to the armpit convo: first off, let's be super honest.  I, Sarah, am a super sweaty person.  Always have been. I sweat like a man. Thus, I have used a lot of deodorant in my smelly sweaty days. Usually, at least for the last about 4-7 years, I've been using my ol' faithful: Dove. It smells lovely.  I'm not a sweaty man beast during the day. And I felt pretty solid, because Dove is all about "real beauty" etc.

So what's the issue?  Hellllllooooo chemical absorption and animal testing. You may be thinking, "what's the big deal with deo for the BO?" Well how about the fact that in vitro absorption occurs, the FDA is choosing to"wait and see" if the chemicals in deodorant actually cause cancer, as it suspected, or my main concern: what is the aluminium absorption doing to estrogen levels?

Oh yes! Let's put that cancer right on in my arm pitties please!

And so, I decided to end my relationship with Dove and introduced myself to Tom.  He's from Maine. Basically, I felt like this was a mild step into a toxic free lifestyle, even if it isn't the best step. Well, it worked out ok. For like a week. Then all hell broke loose, and by that, I mean enter skin reaction.

I smelled fine. If anything, the lavender scent was very fresh.  I wasn't overly sweaty. I was like, ok we are on to something here! But then my arm pits became angry and then subsequently violent. I had painfully burning armpits. And then my skin became rash-like and hateful.  Everything touching it hurt. Let's not even talk about why I felt the need to shave during that process. Wow.

So what happened? Here's my theory: 1) I knew that switching would cause mild irritation because your body is reacting to the expelling of toxic substances, so I ignored the warning signs of "hey lady, your pits aren't doing ok here" 2) I was applying more than once a day, worried that I smell, so my pits were SUPER covered and lastly 3) I definitely missed the fact that Tom uses zinc in his deo for the BO.

I do not react well with zinc.  If I ingest zinc, my stomach and diaphragm hurt for hours. And obviously on my skin, zinc causes burning, rash like symptom, and peeling.

Thus, I'm back on the Dove. Until I purchase either this probiotic deodorant or this creamy, homemade, tropical deodorant.

And I will keep on ramblin'...