I have decided to move on with things. To let go of some things and to embrace others. I will let go of the anger I have (with some people, not with all), I will embrace the new friends I have made. I will attempt to let go of anxiety, and I will embrace new adventures. I will let go of old habits, and embrace new healthier ones.
What has prompted me to begin this new adventure? Well, hhmmm, I guess YOU! My friends and family, new and old, in-person or online, my co-workers (whom I really adore!) and the children I get to work with.
Moving on entails a little bit more energy than you would think. I will need to let go of some anger, impatience, and frustration. And I will rely on my friends to help me achieve that. I will need to let go of some terrible anxiety, and the children really help me with this, my own, and the ones I get to see at work. I will also try and let go of some nasty old habits. This will be the toughest I think.
Anger, impatience and frustration: terrible emotions that get all stuck up in your head, they get in the way of so many things. Anger at someone for not feeling the same way you do, impatience at my children for not doing things exactly the way I want them done. Frustration at myself for not looking the way I used to.
Anxiety: disabling feelings that put an immediate stop to any amount of moving forward. Anxiety creeps up at the worst and most inopportune times. I have vowed to stop letting it have that much control over me.
Old habits: nasty things they are. How can you expect to move on when you're still doing the same things you have done for the past how many years? MOVE ON! Yes, that's right. Time to try new things, develop new (healthier habits) and keep truckin'.
Here is how I plan to move on with my life:
First and foremost, I will let go of these terrible feelings. I will do this by keeping a smile on my face, remembering that everyone is different and unique in their own ways, and I will remind myself to keep on track with what I want to accomplish. Second, I will purge the old ways out of my life. I am going to quit smoking, and get exercising (the latter being a wee bit difficult). However if I can get into a slower schedule and build up to more rigorous exercise, this should be doable. And lastly, I will get involved in things again, just not to the extreme that I was before. Burn out has a terrible effect on people. I will attempt to avoid that this time.
My first task is to become comfortable in my own skin again. After all, how can I help my girls become self-confident individuals if I myself are not confident with who I am? I am working on this as we speak.
I'll let you know how it's going in a few days...
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Wednesday, October 10, 2012
Puppy spoons!
During my worst time a couple years ago, while on a visit to my parents’ house, I decided I wanted a puppy. All of a sudden I felt like I needed something to keep me occupied and at the same time something that I HAD to take care of. So when we arrived home, we found a small breed dog for sale in the city nearby and she became Abby.
Abby became my constant shadow, and my ever-present source of snuggles and love. She is extremely intuitive about how I am feeling at any time of any day. I like to think she carries around extra spoons for me (puppy spoons) and she even helps me carry mine.
She has her own “perch” on my second desk, beside the window in my craft studio, and this is where you will find her when I am there also. Sometimes I find her their early in the morning, it’s like she watches the sun come up or something.
Abby makes me laugh till I cry, cry till I laugh, and generally boggles my mind. But in her infinite wisdom I suppose there must be a method to her madness. Such as why she tries to take my sock when I’m trying to put it on…Perhaps she knows that this will insight a round of playing and giggles.
When I am having a bad day, Abby has been known to attempt to carry my spoons for me. When I lay down to recharge, she will lay down beside me touching as much of me as she can. If I am having a really bad day, she will curl up around my head on the pillow. It’s as if she is willing me energy.
Abby has been very important to me in my day-to-day, getting-on-with-things life. And to those who will say that animals (dogs in particular) do not have a soul, I say: you’ve obviously never had an Abby.
Abby became my constant shadow, and my ever-present source of snuggles and love. She is extremely intuitive about how I am feeling at any time of any day. I like to think she carries around extra spoons for me (puppy spoons) and she even helps me carry mine.
She has her own “perch” on my second desk, beside the window in my craft studio, and this is where you will find her when I am there also. Sometimes I find her their early in the morning, it’s like she watches the sun come up or something.
Abby makes me laugh till I cry, cry till I laugh, and generally boggles my mind. But in her infinite wisdom I suppose there must be a method to her madness. Such as why she tries to take my sock when I’m trying to put it on…Perhaps she knows that this will insight a round of playing and giggles.
When I am having a bad day, Abby has been known to attempt to carry my spoons for me. When I lay down to recharge, she will lay down beside me touching as much of me as she can. If I am having a really bad day, she will curl up around my head on the pillow. It’s as if she is willing me energy.
Bad Week…
Last week didn’t start out so good. Sunday night I went to bed early with what felt like major heart palpitations. I slept good, but on my way to work they came back and got progressively worse over the next half hour. So, I left work and went to the hospital where they hooked me up to the heart monitor. After three hours, they informed me that there was nothing wrong with my heart but that it was some kind of muscle spasm in my chest. 5 DAYS it lasted! Nasty, I tell you. Thank god that’s over. But it left me pretty tired. Slept a full 12 hours Friday night…
Let’s talk about spoons, baby…
Well, I started this post three weeks ago, and then had an attack of “am I whining?” again. I have come to this conclusion (thanks to my sister – yet again): I need to write this down. And rather than blanket my friends with my “whining” I would prefer to write it down here; if you don’t want to read it, then you don’t have to! My friends and family have been so wonderful to me in the last few years that I don’t know what I would have done without them, and I prefer not to have to burden them with my rants…!
Ok, so enough with the “whining”
.
Let’s talk about spoons…
I myself have a theory, now that I have mulled over Christine’s spoon theory in my head for a while. Not an entirely new theory, but an addition to the spoon theory. I believe that there are different kinds of spoons. And that there are some spoons that can recharge. I’ll explain.
On a normal day when I wake up in the morning I count my spoons, and let’s say I have 12, just for a nice round even number. Getting out of bed takes 2, brushing my teeth and making breakfast for me and my family, there’s another 2, then getting the girls ready for school and me ready for work, well, that’s probably another 4. That’s 8 spoons already gone. Only 4 left to deal with the rest of the day, not good. On a normal day, I work from 9 – 12 with young children at a local school. That takes about 4 spoons. That’s it, they’re all gone. Time to recharge. I can get some spoons back, but not all of them, and not even a majority of them. When I get home from work, I must sleep. Not just wanting to have a nap, I am so exhausted that I can barely drive home from work. So, sleep I do. For 2 or 3 hours. One hour is not enough and anymore than 3 is way too much. It’s now 3 or 4 pm, and I have recharged, let’s say, 5 spoons (and that’s good!). Time to cook supper (2 spoons), take the girls to cadets or music (depending on the day) (3 spoons). And that’s it. I’m done, for the day. Keep in mind that even though I have recharged 5 spoons, they are only at half capacity. I call them rusty spoons at this point. They are far heavier and more cumbersome to carry around, and also tend to get stuck.
On a not-so-normal day, for example, a trip to the city, I count 12 spoons, but they are already heavy because I know I have to worry about driving (which I never do by myself), and worry about making it through what I know will be a long and heavy day. Environmental noise and “busy-ness” happen to be some of my triggers, I have known this for a couple of years now. Too many people, too much noise, or too small of an aisle in a store sets off the dizziness and does me in for a number of hours. So, by the time I have reached the city (an hour’s drive) I have used 4 or 5 spoons, between the effort and the worry. My friends have been really great at going with me when I need to go to the city. They know they will have to take over driving at some point in the day, as I will at some point just be DONE. My girls are also very understanding when I tell them they have to go into the mall by themselves. The mall is not a place I can enter very often, and if I have to go there on a bad day, I have to rent a wheelchair. Okay, so that’s 5 spoons gone, by about 10 am. Most times, all meals have to be drive-thru, as the restaurants are too busy, although we have been able to go into some early and miss the rush altogether. Certain stores I will not enter, and some I will enter but cannot be left alone. Canadian Tire and Walmart I will never enter on my own. Superstore I have major issues with. Smaller stores are much easier to deal with, especially if I know the owner and know the direct route to the bathroom. It’s now 3 pm and I have used up all my spoons. I sit out the next few stops in the car and try to rest. Whoever is lucky enough to be traveling with me that day is already in the driver’s seat. There is no recharging on a day like this, and for the next couple of days, my spoons are extremely rusty and heavy.
A lady that I have known for years recently stated in her Facebook status, that sleep is so important for someone with fibromyalgia, and yet people still tend to misunderstand and call her lazy. I worry about this as well. People who do not know me well, probably think the same of me, and I find I have to constantly convince myself that they don’t matter. Unless of course it’s an employer, then they do matter. Then you have the arduous task of trying to explain fibromyalgia and the general ins and outs, all the while trying not to sound incompetent or lazy. It’s NOT laziness. It’s a LACK OF SPOONS! Hehe, try explaining that one as well.
So the next time someone decides to ask me or tell me that I’m lazy, I will tell them to find out how many spoons they have at the beginning and end of every day and then come back and tell me how lazy I am. I hope that this would encourage them to do some research and in the process, gain some useful knowledge!
Ok, so enough with the “whining”
.Let’s talk about spoons…
I myself have a theory, now that I have mulled over Christine’s spoon theory in my head for a while. Not an entirely new theory, but an addition to the spoon theory. I believe that there are different kinds of spoons. And that there are some spoons that can recharge. I’ll explain.
On a normal day when I wake up in the morning I count my spoons, and let’s say I have 12, just for a nice round even number. Getting out of bed takes 2, brushing my teeth and making breakfast for me and my family, there’s another 2, then getting the girls ready for school and me ready for work, well, that’s probably another 4. That’s 8 spoons already gone. Only 4 left to deal with the rest of the day, not good. On a normal day, I work from 9 – 12 with young children at a local school. That takes about 4 spoons. That’s it, they’re all gone. Time to recharge. I can get some spoons back, but not all of them, and not even a majority of them. When I get home from work, I must sleep. Not just wanting to have a nap, I am so exhausted that I can barely drive home from work. So, sleep I do. For 2 or 3 hours. One hour is not enough and anymore than 3 is way too much. It’s now 3 or 4 pm, and I have recharged, let’s say, 5 spoons (and that’s good!). Time to cook supper (2 spoons), take the girls to cadets or music (depending on the day) (3 spoons). And that’s it. I’m done, for the day. Keep in mind that even though I have recharged 5 spoons, they are only at half capacity. I call them rusty spoons at this point. They are far heavier and more cumbersome to carry around, and also tend to get stuck.
On a not-so-normal day, for example, a trip to the city, I count 12 spoons, but they are already heavy because I know I have to worry about driving (which I never do by myself), and worry about making it through what I know will be a long and heavy day. Environmental noise and “busy-ness” happen to be some of my triggers, I have known this for a couple of years now. Too many people, too much noise, or too small of an aisle in a store sets off the dizziness and does me in for a number of hours. So, by the time I have reached the city (an hour’s drive) I have used 4 or 5 spoons, between the effort and the worry. My friends have been really great at going with me when I need to go to the city. They know they will have to take over driving at some point in the day, as I will at some point just be DONE. My girls are also very understanding when I tell them they have to go into the mall by themselves. The mall is not a place I can enter very often, and if I have to go there on a bad day, I have to rent a wheelchair. Okay, so that’s 5 spoons gone, by about 10 am. Most times, all meals have to be drive-thru, as the restaurants are too busy, although we have been able to go into some early and miss the rush altogether. Certain stores I will not enter, and some I will enter but cannot be left alone. Canadian Tire and Walmart I will never enter on my own. Superstore I have major issues with. Smaller stores are much easier to deal with, especially if I know the owner and know the direct route to the bathroom. It’s now 3 pm and I have used up all my spoons. I sit out the next few stops in the car and try to rest. Whoever is lucky enough to be traveling with me that day is already in the driver’s seat. There is no recharging on a day like this, and for the next couple of days, my spoons are extremely rusty and heavy.
A lady that I have known for years recently stated in her Facebook status, that sleep is so important for someone with fibromyalgia, and yet people still tend to misunderstand and call her lazy. I worry about this as well. People who do not know me well, probably think the same of me, and I find I have to constantly convince myself that they don’t matter. Unless of course it’s an employer, then they do matter. Then you have the arduous task of trying to explain fibromyalgia and the general ins and outs, all the while trying not to sound incompetent or lazy. It’s NOT laziness. It’s a LACK OF SPOONS! Hehe, try explaining that one as well.
So the next time someone decides to ask me or tell me that I’m lazy, I will tell them to find out how many spoons they have at the beginning and end of every day and then come back and tell me how lazy I am. I hope that this would encourage them to do some research and in the process, gain some useful knowledge!
Spoons don’t travel well…
After traveling for 3 days I’ve realized that spoons do NOT travel well. They tend to get rusty. Having a very slow day today, spoons are heavy.
Monday, August 6, 2012
Are you froggy?
Welcome to my “Froggy” blog.
So you’re wondering why am I “Froggy”? Well, I’ll explain that.
Froggy is my fun term for foggy. If it’s foggy ouside, my kids get a kick out of my phrase: its Froggy out. So, when I’m having a bad day, they understand a little better when I say its froggy inside.
For many years I have not been ‘normal’ in the sense that I don’t feel right. Things tend to go wrong and when they do, they go very wrong. When I get a cold, I don’t suffer as a normal person would, I am down for at least two weeks. And when I say I am down, I mean down and out. I cannot function. So, here’s a little bit of history:
At 17 I was diagnosed with IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), and Raynaud’s Syndrome. At 19 I experienced what was undiagnostically (could that be a word?) referred to as a stroke. I lost the feeling and use of my left side for about three weeks. My family Dr. wanted it diagnosed as a stroke, but nothing showed up in the CT scan. My specialists told him I was psychosomatic. For years after this, I believed I was a little bit crazy. Then, about ten years ago I began to experience dizziness. It would come and go and would overall last for a few weeks then go away for a while, and then come back again.
Five years ago, I was working at this awesome job, in a municipal government office. At first I started to get dizzy again, just spells, certain times of the day. Then it became so bad that I couldn’t get out of bed; the room was spinning so bad I couldn’t get my balance, and I was nauseaus all the time. Needless to say, I couldn’t go to work. As my position was on contract, I lost my job. I stayed home for a year and a half, the whole time wondering what was going on with me. One doctor told me it was migraines, another told me it was stress (thanks for the prozac…), and still another called it Labyrinthitis. I saw an ENT, had numerous MRIs and xrays, blood tests and so forth, and still with no positive outcomes.
So we went with this diagnosis for a couple of years. In 2009 I experienced severe malofacial pain and was told it was Trigeminal Neuralgia. I was prescribed a medication used by people with epilepsy, and had a bad reaction. Then the next summer, I had bad chest pains, and was brought to the hospital in an ambulance. I was treated with Pink Lady, spent the night in the ER and then was sent home. In October of 2010, I experienced severe gastrointestinal pain and was hospitalized for four days and given morphine to combat the pain. After four days of liquid diet and morphine, the pain began to subside, but I still felt like I had been hit by a freight train, and the normal little movements like walking from the hospital to the car were darn near impossible.
After this last episode, my husband finally convinced me to see a naturopath. I thought, what could it hurt? It’s not like my DRs can tell me anything. After telling her all of my problems, and bursting into tears of course, she suggested that I was NOT crazy! Imagine that! She also suggested that I start immediately on a gluten-free diet, which I did. At the same time, I relayed this information to my family Dr at the time, who consequently thought I was crazy. She of course scoffed, because naturopaths are not considered real Drs in the medical profession. But, reluctantly she scheduled me an appointment with a gastroenterologist. Those of you who live in the north will understand when I say it took another year to actually see the gastroenterologist, even just for a consultation. Eventually, I was subjected to an endoscopy, now almost two years after my hospital stay, where the only evidence found was some bleeding in my small intestine and it was probably caused by my IBS.
Needless to say, the gluten-free diet helped and within a month I was almost back to normal, for almost a year. Then other things started to come back. I started to get dizzy again, I had trouble finding the right words again, I couldn’t be far from the bathroom again, among other things. So, I went back to the Dr. My usual Dr had moved away and my new Dr (whom I still haven’t seen ) was absent. I was scheduled to see a locum. This guy was great. He couldn’t believe that I had been dealing with this for ten years! He was very understanding and sat me down and explained to me that since I had been suffering on and off for this long, it was likely that this will not go away and I will have to figure out how to live with it. He suggested that I may have Fibromyalgia, after asking me many questions, and listening to me blubber for over an hour. I left his office feeling some sense of relief. Not because I had Fibromyalgia– I mean who wants to be sick right?– but because I had a reason for being the way I am. I am not crazy. I know this now, and this Dr will probably never know how much he helped me.
I have done some research on Fibromyalgia and have come to many conclusions about what I have been experiencing. This blog will serve as my diary, if you will, about my life and what I have come to know and understand about my “Froggy” days. If you have the same kinds of days, for whatever reason, I hope that you find this blog helpful. Please feel free to leave comments about what has helped or hindered in clearing the frog.
So you’re wondering why am I “Froggy”? Well, I’ll explain that.
Froggy is my fun term for foggy. If it’s foggy ouside, my kids get a kick out of my phrase: its Froggy out. So, when I’m having a bad day, they understand a little better when I say its froggy inside.
For many years I have not been ‘normal’ in the sense that I don’t feel right. Things tend to go wrong and when they do, they go very wrong. When I get a cold, I don’t suffer as a normal person would, I am down for at least two weeks. And when I say I am down, I mean down and out. I cannot function. So, here’s a little bit of history:
At 17 I was diagnosed with IBS (irritable bowel syndrome), and Raynaud’s Syndrome. At 19 I experienced what was undiagnostically (could that be a word?) referred to as a stroke. I lost the feeling and use of my left side for about three weeks. My family Dr. wanted it diagnosed as a stroke, but nothing showed up in the CT scan. My specialists told him I was psychosomatic. For years after this, I believed I was a little bit crazy. Then, about ten years ago I began to experience dizziness. It would come and go and would overall last for a few weeks then go away for a while, and then come back again.
Five years ago, I was working at this awesome job, in a municipal government office. At first I started to get dizzy again, just spells, certain times of the day. Then it became so bad that I couldn’t get out of bed; the room was spinning so bad I couldn’t get my balance, and I was nauseaus all the time. Needless to say, I couldn’t go to work. As my position was on contract, I lost my job. I stayed home for a year and a half, the whole time wondering what was going on with me. One doctor told me it was migraines, another told me it was stress (thanks for the prozac…), and still another called it Labyrinthitis. I saw an ENT, had numerous MRIs and xrays, blood tests and so forth, and still with no positive outcomes.
So we went with this diagnosis for a couple of years. In 2009 I experienced severe malofacial pain and was told it was Trigeminal Neuralgia. I was prescribed a medication used by people with epilepsy, and had a bad reaction. Then the next summer, I had bad chest pains, and was brought to the hospital in an ambulance. I was treated with Pink Lady, spent the night in the ER and then was sent home. In October of 2010, I experienced severe gastrointestinal pain and was hospitalized for four days and given morphine to combat the pain. After four days of liquid diet and morphine, the pain began to subside, but I still felt like I had been hit by a freight train, and the normal little movements like walking from the hospital to the car were darn near impossible.
After this last episode, my husband finally convinced me to see a naturopath. I thought, what could it hurt? It’s not like my DRs can tell me anything. After telling her all of my problems, and bursting into tears of course, she suggested that I was NOT crazy! Imagine that! She also suggested that I start immediately on a gluten-free diet, which I did. At the same time, I relayed this information to my family Dr at the time, who consequently thought I was crazy. She of course scoffed, because naturopaths are not considered real Drs in the medical profession. But, reluctantly she scheduled me an appointment with a gastroenterologist. Those of you who live in the north will understand when I say it took another year to actually see the gastroenterologist, even just for a consultation. Eventually, I was subjected to an endoscopy, now almost two years after my hospital stay, where the only evidence found was some bleeding in my small intestine and it was probably caused by my IBS.
Needless to say, the gluten-free diet helped and within a month I was almost back to normal, for almost a year. Then other things started to come back. I started to get dizzy again, I had trouble finding the right words again, I couldn’t be far from the bathroom again, among other things. So, I went back to the Dr. My usual Dr had moved away and my new Dr (whom I still haven’t seen
) was absent. I was scheduled to see a locum. This guy was great. He couldn’t believe that I had been dealing with this for ten years! He was very understanding and sat me down and explained to me that since I had been suffering on and off for this long, it was likely that this will not go away and I will have to figure out how to live with it. He suggested that I may have Fibromyalgia, after asking me many questions, and listening to me blubber for over an hour. I left his office feeling some sense of relief. Not because I had Fibromyalgia– I mean who wants to be sick right?– but because I had a reason for being the way I am. I am not crazy. I know this now, and this Dr will probably never know how much he helped me.I have done some research on Fibromyalgia and have come to many conclusions about what I have been experiencing. This blog will serve as my diary, if you will, about my life and what I have come to know and understand about my “Froggy” days. If you have the same kinds of days, for whatever reason, I hope that you find this blog helpful. Please feel free to leave comments about what has helped or hindered in clearing the frog.
Wednesday, August 1, 2012
What does “Froggy” look like?
So, if you’ve been unwell for years, you’ve probably been faced with series’ of questions about how you feel. And statements about how you ‘don’t look sick’. This is normal of other people to ask, but is so frustrating to have to answer! Especially if you cannot come up with a reason that will make any sense.
If I’m having a froggy day, forget it, you won’t get a logical answer out of me. I will become instantly frustrated and anxious. Not because you asked the question, but because I simply cannot get the answer to come out of my mouth and make sense at the same time!
This has bothered me for some time. Can I really be sick if I cannot explain it to anyone? Apparently, yes I can. One of the afflictions that rears its ugly head when you have fibromyalgia is called fibro-fog. This is the inability to concentrate, form proper sentences, make simple decisions, use the right words, and remember simple things like names and titles. In my case, it also includes the inability to hear properly if words are spoken too fast.
Just today I was introduced to Christine Miserandino and her “Spoon Theory”. And thanks to my wonderful sister, this day has inspired me to start this blog. Finally, an explanation that makes sense to the normal everyday person!
To sum it up, Christine’s Spoon Theory states that when you have an illness (especially one that can’t be seen) you have to count your spoons at the start of every day and prepare to spend them all. Every task, even the simple ones like getting out of bed, will cost you a spoon, and sometimes two. When you are out of spoons, you are out of functional energy. For more information, and I really urge you to read her theory, visit Christine’s site at www.butyoudontlooksick.com.
I had my own way of describing how I felt, but this theory makes way more sense. I used to tell people that going to the post office was “too many steps”. Not just steps as in get in the car, get out of the car, but literally, how many steps it would take me to get to the car, and then get in the car, and then get out of the car, and then how many steps it would take to get into the post office, and then back again. If I thought something required more steps than I could handle, I just didn’t do it. This led to an anxiety disorder that kept me in my house for a year and a half (but that’s another blog entry for another day).
So now, that I know to count my spoons every morning, I can move forward with my spoon-rationing life in a happy sort of way. No more depressing thoughts about why I am like I am, just good thoughts about how to live the way I am.
If I’m having a froggy day, forget it, you won’t get a logical answer out of me. I will become instantly frustrated and anxious. Not because you asked the question, but because I simply cannot get the answer to come out of my mouth and make sense at the same time!
This has bothered me for some time. Can I really be sick if I cannot explain it to anyone? Apparently, yes I can. One of the afflictions that rears its ugly head when you have fibromyalgia is called fibro-fog. This is the inability to concentrate, form proper sentences, make simple decisions, use the right words, and remember simple things like names and titles. In my case, it also includes the inability to hear properly if words are spoken too fast.
Just today I was introduced to Christine Miserandino and her “Spoon Theory”. And thanks to my wonderful sister, this day has inspired me to start this blog. Finally, an explanation that makes sense to the normal everyday person!
To sum it up, Christine’s Spoon Theory states that when you have an illness (especially one that can’t be seen) you have to count your spoons at the start of every day and prepare to spend them all. Every task, even the simple ones like getting out of bed, will cost you a spoon, and sometimes two. When you are out of spoons, you are out of functional energy. For more information, and I really urge you to read her theory, visit Christine’s site at www.butyoudontlooksick.com.
I had my own way of describing how I felt, but this theory makes way more sense. I used to tell people that going to the post office was “too many steps”. Not just steps as in get in the car, get out of the car, but literally, how many steps it would take me to get to the car, and then get in the car, and then get out of the car, and then how many steps it would take to get into the post office, and then back again. If I thought something required more steps than I could handle, I just didn’t do it. This led to an anxiety disorder that kept me in my house for a year and a half (but that’s another blog entry for another day).
So now, that I know to count my spoons every morning, I can move forward with my spoon-rationing life in a happy sort of way. No more depressing thoughts about why I am like I am, just good thoughts about how to live the way I am.
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