I had such high hopes when I started this blog last year. Then my life remained difficult and complicated until I had a complete meltdown in May. I tried to keep a positive attitude, and I wanted to remain grateful. But when you're overwhelmed, even getting out of bed each morning seems the biggest accomplishment of the day.
My original goal and reason for this blog was to find something each day to be grateful for, and to blog about it. The rules were that I couldnt ever use the same thing, and what 365 things could I find to be grateful about through my entire year. It wasnt a bad idea or even too large a project. I was just approaching it at the wrong time in my life, however well-intentioned I was.
Today is New Year's Eve 2011 and a lot is different and a lot is the same as one year ago today. I'm still unemployed and still looking for a job. Time is running out and I'm starting to get a little anxious. I know it will be okay. Worst case scenario, I work 2 or 3 part time jobs. I've done it before. None of my friends would allow me to be homeless, so even if, god forbid, I were evicted, I wouldnt be out on the streets. I'm not a full time student any more. I discovered that was too much for me with my health being what it was. It took me two semesters and a lot of pressure I put on myself to discover that.
Now about that meltdown. I had student insurance at that point, and was going to the health center on campus for my diabetes and pain medications. I started having horrible pain and spasms in my right hamstring muscles to the point where I couldnt even sleep. The doctor who was seeing me must have been a bit of an empath himself, because he recognized that not only was I having pain issues, I was having extreme anxiety problems as well, evidenced when I burst into tears during our assessment. He called it true when he said he thought I was scared to death, but I didnt know why or what I was scared of. He referred me to the student mental health center, and I started seeing a counselor again for what I thought of as an emotional tune-up.
After taking my history and hearing about the past 2 years of my life (at that point), my counselor asked me if I was familiar with Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Well, yes. I'm a psych major, after all, and became very intimate with the definition when I was in counseling to heal from being sexually abused as a child. But because I was already on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications, and I hadnt suffered an actual trauma, I didnt think it applied to me, even though many of the symptoms were present. What I didnt realize and what she pointed out to me, was that being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness can also cause PTSD. Did not know that. Then she began repeating the laundry list of maladies back to me.
Chronic fatigue syndrome for 10 years. Long term illness prior to diagnosis of diabetes. Stressful and toxic work place with repeated layoffs and additional work load. A wretched boss. Hospital with life threatening diabetic related infection within 2 weeks after diagnosis. The idiot watching my dog while I was hospitalized letting him overheat until he died and calling me while I was IN the hospital to tell me. Adopting 2 new dogs within 2 months of release from hospital. Continued illness because I cant get the diabetes under control. A major sinus infection. And this all happened just in 2008. 2009 - I get laid off at the end of January which is both a blessing in disguise and a huge blow to my identity. I keep having infections and end up in the ER on the night of St. Patricks Day for a cat scan on my kidneys. Luckily, no stones, but I'm one sick puppy dog. My doctor keeps dropping the ball on my health care until I find a new doctor in April. June...the engine in my car blows up. Fortunately, I have enough still left in my 401K to cash out and pay for a new engine. Something or someone divine takes pity on me and my mechanic finds a used one with only 26,000 miles on it. I start to get better, but when my mom comes to visit in July, I still poop out really easily and I can no longer tolerate heat. Then school starts full time and I end up with another sinus infection that wont go away. At all. 3 rounds of antibiotics later, and I'm still sick as a dog. A trip the the allergist. Cat scan on sinuses. All tests come back okay. But my white blood cell count remains high, so they know there's still something wrong. Right before finals they start talking about testing me for cancer. WHAT??? I manage to complete 3 finals exams, but the 4th I just blow off because I just cant do it, not knowing how badly it will fuck my student financial aid. I wait for weeks for test results. The hold up is that they sent the lab work to Johns Hopkins for a full DNA screen to rule out everything. I'm cancer free. The holidays roll around. I go into a baking frenzy for a craft fair, make too many items that dont sell and it ends up costing me money. A few days before I'm due to leave for OK and my first Christmas with family in ages, the dogs trip me up and I crack my wrist.
2009. I start this blog while I'm at my mom's. Long road trip with Mom back to Colorado for a stopover then on to Arizona so she can see my aunt and I can see Max. I get home to discover my Cobra insurance has been cancelled because I missed the premium due date by 2 days. No exceptions so now I have no insurance. Fortunately, I'm required by the school to have some form of insurance by the school, so the premiums are added to my tuition. But at this point, I dont know I have problems with my financial aid. I find out that I'm on financial aid suspension the day I'm required to drop classes for non-payment because of an incorrect email I received a month prior telling me I was approved. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Jumping through hoops for a waiver while I'm recovering from yet another kidney infection, and this latest fuck-aroo causes a major case of the flu which then turns into bronchitis. Can someone just put me out of my misery? So by the end of April, I'm a complete basket case. Leg pain so bad I wake up crying, psych referral, PTSD diagnosis and then I completely meltdown, pick a fight with Max and we temporarily break up. More counseling sessions, I start to feel better, increase my diabetes meds, and stop having infections. Finals are over, but I completely flunk one of my classes, so now I dont get any financial aid until I can complete more classes successfully and bring my grades up. July 4th weekend, Augie eats a pack of cigarettes, and I have to hospitalize him with the emergency vet. I spend the rest of the summer sending out resumes and weaning myself off percocet because now I'm out of insurance and pain meds. But still no more infections, so that's good, right? As the year drifts into fall, I hide out at home, sleep weird hours and start a humor page on Facebook, which oddly as it sounds, starts to validate me again as a human being of worth, because I can make people laugh. I find a doctor who I can afford (barely) out of pocket, he starts me on a non-narcotic pain medication and a new sleep medication and by Thanksgiving, I'm starting to feel human again. But I still want to hide from the world. Its easier to play on Facebook than to confront all the stress and emotional turmoil the last 2 years have wrought.
December 31, 2011...I havent had an infection in almost a year. I feel like I'm finally over the hump and on the back end of the last disastrous 2 years. But I'm still afraid. I get out of bed every day and push down the anxiety by getting on Facebook and wasting at least half my day there. I still have flare-ups with the fibromyalgia, but only one really bad one in the last couple months. All in all, I feel pretty good right now, and feel fortunate and grateful to have survived all of this more or less, intact. But the true emotional reality of this 2 years has never been acknowledged by me. I deny how awful its been. I tell myself its only been circumstances. Everyone goes through hard times. I minimize. I tell myself its only diabetes, its only fibromyalgia. I dont have cancer, I'm still a relatively young woman (for being middle-aged). I have a roof over my head, food to eat, and a car to drive. Things will turn around. Things will get better. Then why am I still so scared? I have PTSD. No, I dont. Yes, I do. Its not a big deal. I've been through worse. I'm just being lazy and making excuses for myself. But I know if I werent on medication, I'd be crying my fucking eyes out every day...or worse. I tried to wean myself off the anti-anxiety med, trying to save some money on prescriptions and I was such a weepy mess, I knew that wasnt going to work. I try not to say too much to my friends and loved ones, because God knows they put with a shit-ton of negativity from me that first year when I was so very sick.
Not every single second has been bleak. Good things have happened. I'm more secure in my relationship with Max than ever before, and a lot less jealous. We reached a compromise we both can live with, and even though I know it will still be a few more years of the long distance thing, I can live with that. Truthfully, if he'd had to put up with me during all this time, we probably would have thrashed the relationship...again. This year, I've re-established a relationship with one sister, and been able to be in more contact with the other sister. Every couple of weeks I've gone to lunch with my dearest friend, Colleen, who makes me laugh and listens to me without bashing me in the face when I go off on a self-pity kick. Anyone who can keep me out of the crazy-tree like she does deserves my endless gratitude. Not only have I had people to help me this past year, I've started to admit when I need help, and to ask for it. The dogs have been a blessing. There have been days when their needs to go out and be fed were the only reason I had to get out of bed. They snuggle with me when they know I'm sick or sad. These are all positive things at a time in my life when so much else has gone wrong. I try my best every day to hang on to these positive thoughts and the things that are good in my life.
I think its time for me to deal with everything I've stuffed down for the last 2 years, and admit, yes, it has been fucking hard and fucking awful. I want this new year to be so much better. I want a job I love. I want to be able to get bills caught up and paid off. I want to be able to start classes again. I feel like I've been in limbo, just merely surviving the tempest, and I want to start actually living again. I dont know that I have any resolutions or clear-cut goals for this year. This blog is no longer going to be what I originally intended for it. I wont post every day. And I probably wont always be sunshine and happy thoughts when I post. But I want to keep going forward with an attitude of gratitude. I'm grateful to have survived and gotten through all this. I still have it so much better than so many people in the world right now. I'm grateful to have people in my life that love me, and respect me, and appreciate me. I'm grateful I havent hurt myself. I'm grateful to know that sooner or later, this funk will turn around, and things will get better and eventually be okay. They always are. I dont see myself as being on a journey of discovery as this new year unfolds. I'm just living life, like every other day, every other year. I'm moving into a new year with hope. I have hope things will get better. I have hope I'll find a way to move through the emotional part of this condition. I have hope I'll find a great job. I have hope that I will continue to be grateful. I have hope that hope is the greatest tool for living I possess.
