Written by: Mama B
Originally posted: 12/14/2015
Disclaimer: I am going to start this blog with a new format because everything is about to turn upside down and sideways. (I won't make you read it that way, though.) Also, please excuse any typos or any jokes or things that don't make sense. My brain twists things up now without my permission and I tend to come off looking a bit stupid. I'm not stupid, just having a "flare up."
Exactly 15 days ago, on November 30, 2015 I noticed an annoying and slightly-painful tingling feeling in both of my feet. I didn't pay too much attention to it because I was concentrating on a million other things. We are trying to sell our house and move to New Hampshire. Only 15 days ago, we were kind of under contract with my dream house and needed to sell our home down here within 7 days to solidify(is that the right word??*) that contract and move forward with our plan to go north and start the next chapter of our lives. I'm not saying we won't be doing that. I'm just saying that the next chapter is going to BLOW YOUR FUCKING MINDS. (Well...all right maybe not. It blew, mine though.) Each day that annoying pain moved up the pain scale. It went to fire-like pain in the feet. And then added shooting pain. Then added random electrical shocks. Add muscle spasms. Add metal bars being hammered through joints. And the GRAND FINALE 4TH OF JULY FIREWORKS STYLE...............ZEUS THROWING LIGHTNING BOLTS IN QUICK SUCCESSION! No Boston Pops playing in the background. Only my screams....
Okay, enough with the drama. It really does hurt that bad, though.
I spent 5 days on med surg floor swallowing Dilaudid and half being worked up by a neurologist/half being looked at suspiciously/skeptically by a lot of staff thinking I was there for the meds/attention/etc. Awesome. The Dilaudid didn't even do anything you dipshits (you guys weren't really dipshits - most of you were really REALLY sweet and I really appreciate all you did!). Almost nothing at least. I tried to not take it and found that it was more miserable to not take anything, so I asked to be put back on . Screw you for your judgement. You weren't the ones with the brains on fire.
I'm done. I'm really not an asshole. I'm just in limbo right now. I'm sitting at home - they discharged me with nothing but Neurontin 300mg BID (helps with neuropathy: i.e. nerve pain) and Inderal 20mg BID (I can only convince myself to take 10mg BID at most because my BP has been running so low anyway in the past few months since quitting drinking.) The prescribing doctor not only knew this, I called her after I was discharged and again voiced my concerns about the choice of drug. She said I could just take one pill instead of the two. Le Sigh. Okay. Moving on.
So here I sit, my muscle twitches have finally slowed down a little bit and I no longer feel like I am tied to a stake. But my skin is so insanely sensitive and my legs are feeling a bunch of different painful sensations at once. I am quite tired, my thoughts are going quickly and are jumbled, and I can't form a straight thought when I really want to. It gets stuck somewhere on the way out. Luckily, my husband has gotten used to this because of the first time this symptom appeared this summer when I was overwhelmed after coming home from residential. (That flare up makes so much sense now....) Instead of just stopping and waving my hands and staring at him while he helplessly stares back, I continue to try to talk, using other words to describe the word I am looking for. Most of the time he gets it. It isn't ideal, but it helps out a lot with communication. (Quick shout out to all of my girls from resi who made us play Heads up every night during snack time and taught me phrases such as, "the grass is getting shorter!" to describe a lawnmower....and "I stand up and I'm funny!" to describe a stand up comedian.) And communication is so important when you are dealing with this monster. I should know. I've been doing it for, like, 6 days.
Hah! Ah, Feck.
I don't even know if I'm going to post this. I'm just writing to get all of this out of my head. It's so full that I have no where to put any new thoughts. For right now I'm going to lay on the couch because my hands are too shaky to continue and I forget where I was going with any of this. You can't write a good blog if you forget what the hell it was supposed to be about.
That's all for now.
Addendum: No, we do not have a definitive diagnosis yet. We are running a battery of tests and ruling a ton of things out. Which should be awesome, right? Except I still have all of these shitty symptoms and I just want to know what the fuck is going on so I can be medicated correctly and know what the FUCK I am up against. Okay, I really am done now. With this entry, at least.
Just kidding! One more thing....Here's the list of everything we have ruled out, just so I can stop the barrage of e-mails of suggestions as to what it may be (Thank you for thinking of answers for me though!):
It is not......
Now I'm really done. Yay!
Original post can be found on www.randomfrequents.com
Written by: Ryan K
Originally posted: 12/17/2015
Actors, musicians and athletes are some of the most admired with some people going as far as calling them heroes. I used to feel envious whenever I watched an unbelievable game or live performance, and wonder why I wasn't granted such talent. But that's the thing; much of their success relies on innate abilities. Not saying it doesn't take hard work to hone your craft—whatever it is—but my perspective on the kind of achievement I deem admirable has changed. A lot.
In the spirit of #tbt, let’s go back to getting painfully real about struggling (ugh, this is gonna hurt), when the only five people who read this were me and a few people in India. Not really sure how that happened, but hi!
Last night, I fell down. After making so many sacrifices over this holiday season to put my recovery first, I fell.The holidays are known for being a stressful time of year, but for some of us … Oooh boy. It’s a doozie. Don’t get me wrong, I’m super pumped that Jesus was born, but the circus that this time of year has become is really fucking tough.For one, there is food. Everywhere. All different types of food. I’m sure some of you who don’t get it are all, SMDH and rolling your eyes or whatever it is skeptics do, but let me assure you – this isn’t a cute little first-world problem simply based on the desire to be thin. Nobody chooses to have a crippling fear of what “normal” people enjoy. Nobody chooses to be consumed in anxiety for days leading up to a party – something that’s supposed to be fun. You may scoff at this now, but you probably have no idea if someone has enviously watched you enjoy the hors d'oeuvres and wish she or he could do the same. It’s simply not a silly phase that ends when you “snap out of it” and “just eat” and it’s vital for EVERYONE to be educated so we can get some proper mental health care in this country. Yes, everyone, whether you think this is relevant to your life or not. Spoiler alert: It is.
How about I see your eating disorder and raise you his buddy booze. Alcohol is absolutely rampant this time of year and excessive drinking is very much strongly encouraged. O Holy Night, the wine is freely flowing. I was a part of the madness for many years, oftentimes being the life of the party. With some help, I finally accept that drinking knocks ED recovery off the list of priorities and tends to start an extremely self-destructive cycle of self-loathe, numbness, rinse, repeat.
So not ideal.
Every day I battle these demons in my head. Sometimes it feels so loud up there I want to scream. Food and drink are major in-your-face parts of the holidays and I fight every day to navigate this endless maze. I skipped both of my company’s holiday parties—including the one last night--in order to stay on track. This wasn't easy because these were some of my favorite nights … Who doesn’t love feeling warm and fuzzy while brushing shoulders with the senior executives? But, no. I’ve put in so much work already and I know what I need to do.
I ended up going home and drinking a shitload of wine.
Today was hard. I was disappointed and ashamed but also really pissed. So I missed out on the party but ended up drinking anyway? What a moron. Why can’t I just be normal? Why can’t I just be a normal 30-year-old person who goes to the holiday party like a normal person and just have fun and then joke about the dumb shit people did and then life goes on? I felt like I had been grounded, but for the rest of my life. I tried hard to practice some of that good ‘ol self-compassion I like to talk about but it’s so much easier to believe others deserve it and not yourself.
But here’s the thing. Everyone is dealt different cards and it’s completely counterproductive to compare yourself to others. Just gotta do your best to make the most of what you’ve got. I know this, but I forgot for a little while. My heroes are the people who fight every day for recovery. The ones who face life’s usual challenges while fighting their own war every minute of every day. People may look down on people with “mental illness” and view them as weak or broken, but you have no idea how much strength is required to face these excruciating obstacles. Spoiler alert: It’s a fucking lot. People say we are only given what we are able to handle, and maybe the joke’s on everyone else because they wouldn’t be able to jump through these hoops with the same grace, courage and resilience as the amazing people I’ve met through this journey. So yeah, I fell, but I’m still strong. I didn't break.
I fell but watch me get the fuck back up again.
original blog can be found at www.ryandoesresi.com