It's just too fun, these cycles.

I saw this picture on Facebook, and I'm gonna base the entire excerpt around this picture.  I just wrote about chronic pain feeling, and looking like bipolar disorder.  This is why.  I tried to put in words what happens, and this picture sums it up best.  Well, as if you already couldn't tell, I write when I feel sad, angry, and just frustrated about Fibromyalgia and Multiple Sclerosis.  Why would this one be any different?  :)  When I'm not writing, I'm usually happy and feeling well.  When I write, it's because I need the therapeutic effects of writing.

I am on my freaking period.  We'll just get that out of the way.  That should explain half of it.  I am so hormonally imbalanced, (I mean the sex hormones, not mentally.  Although... :) my periods are from Satan.  Personally.  I get so emotional.  So sad.  So depressed.  Like I said, half the problem right there.  Then we're living with my parents for a while.  That's gotta be the other half.  We moved into my parents basement while my husband looks for a job, and so we can house hunt.  You should never live with family.  The end.

My parents live in Utah.  If you live in Utah, or like Utah, I apologize for what I say.  I hate Utah.  I hate the weather, I hate the landscape, I hate the people.  Most of all I hate the people.  They're clickish, judgmental, snobbish, and the world's worst drivers.  I HATE Utah.  I moved here to get help from family.  My M.S. is so bad, I need all the help I can get.  My mom is here, who's a nurse, not to mention my mom, and then I have baby sister.  She is my life.  When she's not helping, she's making me happy, making me laugh.  If there's anything I need as much as help, it's laughter.  So here we are.  Hating everything around us, but my sister's amazing company.  No job, no house, living with my parents, mother nature, and to make matters worse, sister and mamma are leaving for Paris, France tonight.  Then they go to Italy and then Israel.  Am I pissed?  Yeah, you could say that.  My sister is twelve years younger than me.  I've waited for a trip like this twelve years longer than she has.  I've never been anywhere.  Not to mention I am so stressed out, life has sucked so bad my entire life, I could REALLY use a vacation.  I have never been on a vacation in my life.  Sure, my parents took us occasionally to places.  It doesn't count when you're a kid.  You don't even wanna go, and you're just dragged along, fighting with siblings the entire time.  Those don't count.  I have never been on a vacation in my entire adult life.  Two dumb diseases, four kids, and five years of college later, I'd say it's definitely overdue.  Yet baby sister's going.  Not fair.  I'm excited for her, yes, no doubt, but I'm also bitter about it.  I should be going, too.  The other crap side of that is that she'll also be gone for five weeks.  What in the heck will I do for five weeks?  I'm gonna be so bored!  I barely move here, because I wanted to be closer to her, and she's taking off for five weeks.  Dumb... so yeah, today's been great.  Hubby needs to get a job and a house.  Like yesterday.  So stressed, so sad, so ready to be in the next stage of life.  Don't know how much more of this I can do.  The emotional cycle of M.S. sucks butt.

Anywho, there's muh rant.  I wish I could say I feel better, but I don't.  Wish I could get some chocolate, but without a job, chocolate doesn't grow on trees.  Wait... he he.  Can't even get a bar of chocolate.  Ech, okay, well, yeah.  So that's what it's about.  It's too bad my kids destroyed my body.  I'd flash Bill Gates some boobs right now.  He might give me some chocolate.    

 

If I had a dollar for every time I felt guilt...

Was almost asleep.  Then I had a thought.  And that thought lead to another thought, and the snowball gained speed.  Fast.  It would take too long to explain, but I thought back on a time when something big happened.  To me, to my daughter.  It should have been exciting and fun.  Instead, it turned out to be awful.  I was unable to attend the event.  This was shortly after I developed M.S., although unknown to me at the time.  I knew I would not be able to go before hand.  I was angry at myself.  I was so guilty, and it hurt me bad.  My husband took my daughter, and called me throughout the day telling me the opportunity I missed out on.  He didn't mean any harm by this, but like me, he was very disappointed I couldn't go due to my health.  It hurt.  Here it is a year later, now with the knowledge of M.S., and I still blame myself for not holding it together better.  It was only one day.  What, I can't hold it together for one day?  I know I couldn't have.  It still doesn't stop me from blaming myself.  For being angry about it.  For scolding myself about it.  Wondering what I could have done differently.  Nothing!  I couldn't have done anything differently!  I made my choice knowing I couldn't do anything physically different!  It still doesn't numb the pain, or make me forget, though.  Darn that.  I so wish it would.  It's beyond frustrating to think I have four kids with a lifetime of experiences ahead of them.  I'll get to sit and watch from the sidelines.  How many events will I miss due to my lack of health?  It has to be the most frustrating thing in the entire world.  I didn't become a parent to watch it.  I became a parent to do it.  I am tired of being the spectator.

I had an interesting/infuriating dream last night.  Freud would have a field day with it!  Dreams are so fuzzy, and rarely make a whole lot of sense, but last night was very clear.  I had a conversation with my sub-conscious.  It took on a voice as loud and as clear as mine.  It told me I willed myself into developing Fibromyalgia and Multiple Sclerosis.  I yelled at it.  I told it that was a lie.  It was so menacing, and so completely certain in the lies it feed me.  "You made yourself get sick because you hate being a mom.  Now you get to take on less responsibility."  It hurt in my dream, but I knew it was true.  I agreed with my sub-conscious.  Dreams, no matter what you feel in your reality, are so intense and real, it's hard to distinguish reality from the dream world.  I deeply reflected on that dream today.  Why would that voice, knowingly to me in my dreams, represent itself as my sub-conscious?  Why did it sound hateful, mean, evil?  Why on earth did I agree with it?  Do I agree with it?  Being completely honest with myself, I began to get irritated.  Will myself into getting auto-immune diseases?  Really?  For one, I don't even know if that could be done.  No, I don't think I willed this.  Do I feel relief being sick, knowing this means I won't be obligated to spend as much time with my kids?  Oh hell no.  I was a great mom before I got sick, and I loved every minute of it.  My almost seven year old reminisces about the "good ol' days" often.  She misses it as much as I do.  We all miss the old me.  Do I miss participating in everything?  Oh my goodness, mmm, let's think about this.  Two years of sarcasm later, the answer is yes.  I miss everything.  I miss doing everything.

I do know one thing's for sure.  That dream, although way off base, did ring more truth than I'd ever care to admit.  It was fatally laced with guilt.  I could feel it then, as I still do now.  Guilt for getting sick.  Like I allowed this to happen to my family.  I don't know if it's my personality, the reactions I get from family and friends, or just part of being disabled.  I think it's a combination of all three.  Whatever the reasons, it will take a lifetime to lean how to forget and move on.  When you have a terminal, unforgiving disease slapped into your face everyday, this is easier said that done.  I have a good feeling I will take guilt to the grave.  We're old friends, almost thirty years together.  That's quite the relationship.  One I would love to dismantle.  Until then, I lay in bed.  Hurting, crying, scared.  I am scared of guilt.  It hurts me.  It makes me angry.  It can be a very negative feeling.  I hate when guilt feels the need to come and show its ugly face.  I do try to ignore it.  Try to convince myself that guilt is nothing but a lie.  An evil tool for living in the past.  While my head knows this to be true, my heart can't help but bleed a little.

I know this, and still...

Breathing ain't all it's cracked up to be.

This is a deviated Septum.  I had a severely deformed Septum.  I went to go see an ear, nose and throat specialist last week for all my issues.  I couldn't breath through my nose, I get congested and have runny noses all the time, headaches, snoring, tossing and turning, ya know, all the crap that comes from not being able to breath.  He took one quick look up my nose and was like, "your Septum is seriously deviated.  You've broken your nose a few times."  This didn't surprise me.  I can recall a few times I broke my nose, and saying, "honey, I broke my nose."  :)  He suggested surgery.  I said, "yeah, okay."  He also told me that my nose shouldn't be as "Jewish" as it looked.  I had a pretty big bump, which I never remember being that big, and he said that was the result of breaking it and I shouldn't have it.  He suggested a Rhinoplasty to reshape the broken nose, and a Septoplasty to straighten the deviated Septum.  Sounded easy enough to me.  I know pain.  I get pain.  It can't be that bad, right?  What is a simple nose job compared to Fibromyalgia and M.S.?  Hahahah, RIGHT!  Oh the pain.  I had my surgery three days ago.  It was freaking scary going under, scary waking up, and then it just got painful.  The surgery only took one hour.  He fixed my bump, and straightened my Septum.  I'm on serious pain killers, (which is funny, they don't even get rid of my headache) antibiotics, and anti-nausea medication.  It has been a rough three days so far.  Day one was the least amount of pain.  My body was in shock, but I was bleeding profusely.  I ended up clotting so bad, bleeding so bad, hubby had to call an ambulance to come get me.  I started to black out, and I told him I was losing consciousness, he needed to call an ambulance.  The kids were sleeping, so I tried to make it outside so they wouldn't knock on the door and wake them up.  Yeah.... I didn't make it.  I passed out as I got to the door and smashed my head against the wall and a chair.  I didn't wake up until a few minutes later.  I made it outside, was hooked to an IV and taken to the hospital.  I was severely dehydrated, had a huge headache from hitting my head, and so weak from all the blood loss.  At this point, I had filled two garbage bags of bloody tissue.  I lost a lot of blood.  I was surprised how much you could bleed from a nose job.  You know there's a lot of swelling, but you don't hear a whole lot about bleeding.  I had clots the size of my entire nose, and up into my sinuses.  Then they turned into quarter sized clots.  They were coming every hour.  I honestly thought I was going to bleed to death.  They got my body back in working order at the hospital and I was sent home.  The bleeding never stopped.  I just had my stitches and splints removed just an hour ago.  He cleaned up all my clots (there were a TON and it took him an hour and a half!) and tried to get the bleeding under control.  He said there were so many clots, he still couldn't get them all.  I have another appointment set up for Monday to remove what's left.  That was a lot of bleeding.  It's finally starting to ease up.  I'm still leaking blood now.  So tired of blood.  I ruined a few shirts and my blanket.  Sad day, I love my blanket.  But anywho, that's where I've been and what I've been up to.  Trying to survive the recovery.  Its been soooo uncomfortable, so painful, and very tiring.  Not a whole lot of sleep happening.  I'm so bruised, so swollen, but I can breathe!  Taking my splints out made me able to breathe, and I gotta say, wow!  Who knew breathing was this great???  I've been saying these last three days, "I don't care if it was medically necessary, not worth it!"  Now that I can breathe, and the splints and clots are gone, my outlook is slightly changing.  My cast comes off in a week, and I can't wait to see how un-broken I look.  They say getting the splints out and the first three days are the worst.  I've done three days, and my splints are out.  It can only get better from here.  Let's hope so.  This has been so hard.  I am tired.  I just wanna be normal again.  It's just a nose.  Who knew it was that big of a deal?