Category Archives: thoughts

The Spoon Theory

my spoons

Warning: This is not a funny post. It is about chronic illness. I’d really like you to read it. I promise I’ll attempt to be funny next time. I’ve been dealing with a lot of health issues this past week and I’ve felt very helpless and misunderstood. I want you all to know that I am not asking you to feel sorry for me. I don’t want anyone to pity me. I just wish everyone could understand what life is like with chronic illness and the Spoon Theory, I think, is one of the better ways to describe it.

The Spoon Theory basically says that with chronic illness, you start the day with a certain number of spoons, when a healthy person would start each day with an unlimited amount.

Pretend you wake up and you have 12 spoons.

It costs you a spoon just to get out of bed because your entire body is one giant ache and you never feel like you got any sleep. Next you have to walk down the hallway and wake up the boys and get the daughter’s clothes for school. This costs a spoon because this early in the morning you have the most intense pain and sometimes can barely walk. You have to use one hand to uncurl the other hand because they don’t want to work yet. You can hardly lift the coffee pot to pour coffee. You think about asking your husband for help and then feel guilty because he is going to work and you are not. It costs you a spoon to get yourself mentally under control and continue getting the kids ready to go to school. If you made lunches the night before that’s good, but if you were too tired then you have to do it now and that will cost you a spoon because of all the bending and walking and you are still in a lot of pain.

The kids and husband leave for the day and you are left with 8 spoons. The house is a mess. Do you have to go anywhere today? If you do, you can’t do anything else because driving and running errands or just running around town will take all the rest of your spoons. All of them. You will be in so much pain and so exhausted by the time you get home that you will be unable to do anything else.

This day, let’s say you get to stay home. So you do the dishes and maybe start a load of laundry. Take away a spoon. You need to think about your depression and do something positive so you will color or write in your journal or meditate or do yoga. This costs at least one spoon, depending on what you decide to do.

Remember, you haven’t showered, gotten dressed, or even brushed your teeth yet. You get dressed and brush your teeth and you are tired, so tired. It costs a spoon.

You’ve got 5 spoons left and it isn’t even noon. The house is still a mess. If you really, really clean it, it will cost all of your spoons for today and probably some of tomorrow’s. You need to eat but you are so nauseous that you can’t, plus you hate to waste a spoon just to feed yourself. You decide to watch t.v. for a while and rest. You think about taking a nap, but you can’t because you are too anxious and feel like you can’t breathe. It costs a spoon to get your anxiety under control.

You have 4 spoons left. The house is still a mess. You still have to figure out something for dinner or maybe your husband will bring something home. You better have him bring something home, because you will have to use at least 3 spoons to check the kids’ backpacks, sign papers, help with homework, and generally be present as a mother when they get home. You won’t be able to make dinner, and since you’re still nauseous, won’t be able to eat it either. It is 7 pm and you’ve only got one spoon, but your daughter still needs a bath and you didn’t even shower today. You still have to pack lunches and make the coffee for in the morning and your husband hasn’t gotten any of your attention. You feel like a failure as a wife and a homemaker and a mother. You feel so sorry for your family because you don’t have enough spoons to do everything you want to do for them. The stress leads to a migraine. You are down for two days, crying and throwing up and maybe going to the emergency room. This takes all of the spoons for those two days, and possibly some from the third day because you are exhausted after such a bad migraine.

So that’s basically the spoon theory, and basically my life. I didn’t mention allergic reactions, and I think I actually spend more spoons on managing my health and depression, but you get the idea.

It takes all my spoons just to get through a day doing the bare minimum. If I want to take the kids somewhere fun, that’s all my spoons. If I want to go out to eat with a friend, I have to realize that I will not be able to do something else. If I have a doctor’s appointment in the afternoon, I better lay down all morning.

I have a really hard time dealing with my health. It makes me incredibly sad to not be able to do the things I want to do. I hate having to plan my day around what I feel physically and mentally capable of. I hate that I don’t have enough spoons. I hate that by looking at me, you can’t see how hard I fight every day. I hate thinking that people think I am hateful or lazy because I don’t do things and I cancel plans all the time. I hate that I have to budget my energy and my time.

The Spoon Theory was written by Christine Miserandino at www.butyoudontlooksick.com. You can check it out at http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com/articles/written-by-christine/the-spoon-theory/

Does The Spoon Theory apply to you? If so, what things do you do to stay positive, knowing that you’ll be counting spoons for the rest of your life? Do you find that you judge yourself more harshly than anyone else does? I know I do. Don’t you love my nail polish?

**EDITED TO ADD: I love each and every one of you. I swear I feel stronger with every kind comment and it really means so much to me that you take the time to send me your thoughts. I might cry, guys. You are all my favorite.


Things That Keep Me Up At Night

So, I guess we’ve established that I worry too much. I decided to start keeping track of the many things that cause me anxiety each day, because I found myself worrying — legit, worrying — over some super silly shit today.

The first random thing that caused my blood pressure to rise was a commercial for Grey’s Anatomy, probably. I don’t really know; it showed doctors dancing in the operating room.

source: greysanatomy.wikia.com

source: greysanatomy.wikia.com

That shit is not cool. This made me think of all the times I have put my life into a surgeon’s hands and how I don’t really know those people and what if they are having a shitty day? What if in the middle of surgery they decide to take a dance break for fuck’s sake? What if the doctor just found out that his wife is leaving him for their pool boy and he’s real torn up about it and he SLIPS? What if the doctor has a crush on the nurse and he’s making goo-goo eyes across my almost dead body and he accidently takes out my *sternum?

The weird thing is, I’m not having surgery, I have not HAD surgery, and I do not plan to HAVE surgery. So I guess I really don’t need to be stressing about this.

The next thing that really got me was brought on by who the hell knows what, because it’s only September and Jesus Christ tax time is well into my future. You guessed it. I spent probably 30 minutes of my life today trying to decide if I was capable of doing our taxes again myself or if I needed to hire someone to do them, but if I did, what if they messed up and we end up owing the IRS tons of money, or WORSE, what if I do them myself and I mess up and we end up owing the IRS tons of money and….right, it’s only September. I don’t need to even think about this again for at least four, possibly seven months.

Clearly, what I need to be worried about is my anti-anxiety medication because I don’t think that shit is working.

*Fancy medical term meaning chest bone.

Do you worry over the ridiculous? Am I the only one who obsesses over shit that probably will never happen but possibly, could maybe, in a million years, accidentally somehow affect my life?  


PTSD

bfmh14-copy-e1388959797718

Things are not going well here in the land of the lost.

I realize that I’ve been sick so much in the last few weeks that I’ve missed or thrown up my medication more than I’ve taken it so I’m basically free balling here and that doesn’t work well for me.

I keep trying to tell myself to just hang on until I’m back mostly on level and that Depression Lies and that my kids need their mom. But I keep asking myself what is the point to a life where you are always sick, either mentally or physically or both?

I’m so tired of being sick.

I’m so tired of being sad.

This is a pathetic post and I’m done with it.

Here’s some information about PTSD. The bolded parts are from WebMD.

 

Post-traumatic stress disorder can be crippling. Many people think that PTSD is limited to people who have been in war or lived through some horrific act of violence. Those people can and do suffer from PTSD, but they are not the only ones.

I was diagnosed with PTSD when I was 14. Twenty years ago. And I’m still dealing with it today.

From WebMD:

Posttraumatic stress disorder (PTSD) … is a serious condition that can develop after a person has experienced or witnessed a traumatic or terrifying event ….

…PTSD is a lasting consequence of traumatic ordeals that cause intense fear, helplessness, or horror…

…Most people who experience a traumatic event will have reactions that may include shock, anger, nervousness, fear, and even guilt. These reactions are common; and for most people, they go away over time. For a person with PTSD, however, these feelings continue and even increase, becoming so strong that they keep the person from living a normal life.

Symptoms of PTSD often are grouped into three main categories, including:

Reliving: People with PTSD repeatedly relive the ordeal through thoughts and memories of the trauma. These may include flashbacks, hallucinations, and nightmares. They also may feel great distress when certain things remind them of the trauma…

Avoiding: The person may avoid people, places, thoughts, or situations that may remind him or her of the trauma…

Increased arousal: These include excessive emotions; problems relating to others, including feeling or showing affection; difficulty falling or staying asleep; irritability; outbursts of anger; difficulty concentrating; and being “jumpy” or easily startled. The person may also suffer physical symptoms, such as increased blood pressure and heart rate, rapid breathing, muscle tension, nausea, and diarrhea.

                                                                       *****************************************

A problem I have with PTSD is that I feel guilty that it is still a problem. I feel like I should be “over it” by now and sometimes feel like my friends and family feel that way too. Feeling guilty for being sick doesn’t help, and in fact only adds to my anxiety and depression. I don’t know how to “fix” myself. I don’t know how to be better. I would not choose a life of pain and fear if I had the choice. I did not choose to have fibromyalgia, chronic debilitating migraines, chronic pain syndrome, or the Alpha-gal allergy anymore than I chose to have depression, anxiety, and PTSD. These are all things that I fight through every single day. And it is a fight. Right now, it’s a fight that I feel like I’m losing.

I just have to keep putting one foot in front of the other until I come from under this black cloud. Eventually I will be in the sun and I will be proud that I made it through again.

If you are struggling too, tell me about it. I probably don’t have the words to help, but I can listen. If you are happy, tell me that too. It will help me see through this dark.


Back-To-School Again

In honor of another back-to-school day where I feel torn between jubilation and anxiety, I’m reposting what I wrote last year at this time.

“The kids went back to school today. I started freaking out about it Friday and proceeded to organize everything in my house, like it would somehow protect them from bullies, mean teachers, yucky food, and head lice.  If everything was in just the right spot, what could go wrong? (I realize this is nuts.  Thanks.)”

I was sick Thursday and Friday and in the ER Saturday so I didn’t actually start organizing until Sunday.

“I think I did pretty good at hiding my back-to-school and sending-my-baby-to-Pre-K anxiety from the children. I was all hearts and flowers and “It will be SO MUCH FUN! Aren’t you EXCITED?!” But inside I was like “Waaaaa! My babies.””

This year I have a kindergartener, a sixth grader, and a junior.  Oh. My. God.

“I’m not alone in this.  My husband has called me three times this morning, the last time to ask if he “should just go take a peek and see how she’s doing.”  No.  That’s frowned upon.  I know my limits, so I’m just staying away from that school. If any of the three kids even wrinkled a nose at me, I’d have ‘em packed in the car and the homeschool books ordered.”

My husband is generally very calm and he is still calm today, but he is very worried about the bus situation. The bus situation consists of our kids riding the bus. Shut up, it’s a situation.

“I see the pros of school.  Interacting with peers, learning to follow rules, getting along with others, learning how to deal with assholes – these are all things children need to know.  But not every kid is a yellow #2 pencil.  I don’t want my purple-striped, glitter-covered, shiny-polka-dotted, maybe-chewed-a-little-bit pencils sharpened down until they match all the others.”

This. *sigh*

 


My Idiot Brother

My little brother is only a year and a half younger than I am, so we were really close growing up. I used to be very bossy but my brother was always extremely mellow and did what I told him, so we got along great.

 

Notice we're all wearing fake mustaches before it was cool.

Notice we’re all wearing fake mustaches before it was cool.

My brother used to do weird shit like stand in my closet, still as a statue, just waiting to scare the living shit out of me. I would come in and do my thing and then catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of my eye. It never failed. I freaked out every.single.time.

Just like this.

Just like this.

When I was about 13 I was very surprised when my dad sat me down to have a talk about curiosity.

I was very embarrassed when I realized we were talking about sexual curiosity.

I could not understand what had brought this horrible situation on. As it turned out, my dad had found one of his special movies in my VCR. Yes. My little brother borrowed it and played it in MY room on MY VCR BECAUSE HE WAS A SNEAKY LITTLE SNEAK. Of course, my dad did not believe my protestations, so I got to sit through what is still the most uncomfortable conversation I’ve ever had. With my DAD. Who thought I had STOLEN a PORNO.  Jesus. Just thinking about it is making me blush.

oh no you didnt

 

I didn’t kill him, although I wanted to.

The older we got, the wilder we got. My brother was always just a step ahead of me though. If I skipped school, he got caught for skipping school. If I got drunk, he got really drunk, danced on my car, head butted someone, and gave me a hundred dollars.

Someone's about to get headbutted.

Someone’s about to get headbutted.

Did I mention that we were a little wild?

 

One time my mom decided that his room needed cleaning while he wasn’t home. I took it upon myself to get everything out of there that I thought she might not like before she started cleaning.

I ran out of the house hauling a giant garbage bag full of shit, in the dark, into the backyard. My intention was to throw the bag in the woods behind our house, where he could then rescue it or let it rot as he saw fit. Unfortunately for both of us, I ran smack into a deer carcass that my dad had hung up earlier that day, totally unbeknownst to me. Straight into it, like I was trying to wear its dead body as a suit. I dropped my brother’s shit and ran as fast as I could back in the house. That’s what I got for trying to save him some grief.

 

mainedeerhunting.com

mainedeerhunting.com

Similar to this, only dead, skinned, and hanging spread eagle from a tree.

 

As we became adults and started settling down, I started depending on him a lot more. He was my best friend and anytime I was upset or sad (which was a lot) I would go visit him and some of his mellow-nothing-bothers-me-attitude would rub off on me for a while. I could always call him and he’d always be up to talk or hang out or go out or stay in or whatever. I can’t remember a single bit of advice my brother ever gave me, but I can name hundreds of times he’s made me feel better, just by being there. Now he’s grown up and moved away and become a father and a contributing member of society. I have no idea how that happened.

I’m proud of the little shit, but man, do I miss him.