“I was born with an enormous need for affection, and a terrible need to give it.”
– Audrey Hepburn
Thinking of the ocean-side helps to bring me to a more zen place, important in stress management.
I cannot recall a time when the happiness of others did not supersede that of my own. My happiness has been so intertwined with others that the only moments of pleasure I could grasp were those generated from the satisfaction of colleagues and family. I survived by feeding off the delight of those around me. Looking back, I saw it coming… Continue reading
Posted in Challenges, Happiness, Treatments
Tagged blessings, chronic illness, chronic pain, Complex Regional Pain Syndrome, CRPS, fortunate, help, Hope, Optimism, terrible
Learning the Lingo
“If we had no winter, the spring would not be so pleasant; if we did not sometimes taste adversity, prosperity would not be so welcome.” – Anne Bradstreet
Although this picture dates back to my modeling days, it screams springtime in Texas.
I will be the first to admit that I don’t have all the answers. Heck, I don’t even have that many answers. But investigation and communication have always been strengths of mine. So today I turn my blog to my readers and ask: what can someone suffering from CRPS or other types of chronic pain do to help overcome the long winter months? Continue reading
“The doors we open and close each day decide the lives we live.”
– Flora Whittemore
Everything has changed. Everything. Yet it’s the smallest of these changes that tend to bother me the most, such as my once naturally beautiful nails that now crumble like carefully baked cookies, symbolizing the destruction of the life I once lived. Things that seem so inconsequential on the outside can tear you apart from the inside. It’s hard in the moments that feel as if you’ve lost the things you once loved and must force yourself to overcome hurdles you never asked for, just for a fleeting glimpse back, to stand in the kitchen for 15 minutes as the burning begins to forcefully set in and feel powerless to make what you once loved dearly enjoyable once more.
I often times find myself wishing. I wish my body had waited to manifest this disease until after I finished graduate school so that the hill did not seem so far to climb. I listen to the complaints of others and wish those were my major concerns. I wish my treatments – the physical therapy; the medications that blur my thoughts, steal my memory, and muddle my overall cognitive abilities; and the nerve blocks – were somehow more tolerable and…perhaps even sometimes easy. I wish evenings were more enjoyable, rather than exhausting and painful. I wish to avoid special treatment from others, yet find myself providing internal excuses for why I’m different than others – a hypocrite that I can no longer look in the eye. I wish for so many things, big and small, rational and irrational. Continue reading
A bracelet I received from my mother for Christmas
“It is normal to give away a little of one’s life in order not to lose it all.”
– Albert Camus
I just picked myself up off the bed after curling into a ball, crying for an hour. These days it seems as if the highs are higher than I could have ever dreamed of…yet the lows are nearly unbearable and the triggers for the lows are seemingly benign. Guilt, anxiety, anger, hostility, depression, appreciation of life, love, laughter, pride: these are all emotions I have endured over the past 48 hours. More than anything, I worry. Anxiety drenches me, leaving me breathless, draining my energy until none remains. I have tried seeking ways to overcome this roller coaster, but my traditional coping method almost always fails: music. You see, it has been difficult to find relatable lyrics directed towards my particular age group; I find myself feeling older with each passing minute. Time is fleeting. The closest are songs of longing for a loved one; that lost love being my old self. I realize I will never be the person I once was, but I must remain resolved to metamorphose into something better, more meaningful.
In all my self-pity, there is so much thanks to give, and I realize this more often than not these days. I see so much of the world that I had been blinded to, and although emotions are so much more intense than they once were, the emotions do not discriminate. I love more, laugh more, appreciate more, document more, and desire to give more and live more. Continue reading
“Life is partly what you make of it, and partly what is made by the friends we choose.”
– Tennessee Williams
My surprise 30th birthday orchestrated by my wonderful husband
A Missing Person
You may be asking yourself where I have been. I have found myself asking that very same question over the last few months but more so after being released from all of my specialists’ care, with the exception of neurology of course. Processing the diagnosis has been a difficult road, and returning to work as a full time graduate student provided its own set of challenges. Continue reading
“We must accept finite disappointment, but never lose infinite hope.”
– Martin Luther King
Copyright: Greg Daniels; Dallas, TX
Disappointments have been intensely magnified over the past few months; they are lurking everywhere. I have waited so long to hear good news that my expectations following good news can be too high. I complained about my head being too muddled to process discussions and write eloquently and concisely. Now that I have run out of pain medications until my first appointment with a pain management specialist in Houston on Oct. 19th, I cannot even begin assignments because I simply cannot overcome the pain. And suddenly I am reminded of a reading for class that made me sob.
I cry a lot these days. I shed tears in front of an entire class when one of our readings discussed the motivations of safety (pain). I cried today listening to a rap song. I have always worn my heart on my sleeve, but I can’t help but wonder how I got to this strange, depressing, and sometimes exhilarating-beyond-belief world. Continue reading
“The truth that many people never understand, until it is too late, is that the more you try to avoid suffering the more you suffer because smaller and more insignificant things begin to torture you in proportion to your fear of being hurt.”
– Thomas Merton
Taken in Lisbon across the street from Eleven Restaurant
I have been missing for quite some time now. There are days, more than not, that I simply am incapable of finding myself. A few of these days I was absolutely certain I was lost forever. I sometimes feel like a stranger in my own body. No. It’s really my body that is strange these days. I remember a time – not so long ago – when describing pain was a simple affair. In the past couple of weeks I have actually responded to the question, “How would you describe the pain?” with uncontrollable tears. Pain has become complicated. There’s the “normal” burning pain throughout my right leg. I experience strong sharp pains in my ankle every time it moves or barely bumps something. And a new, alarming pain has begun shooting through my foot, almost electric. The muscle spasms appear to have returned regularly. Combined with full time graduate school and working full time professionally, all of this pulled me into an incredibly dark place.
Loneliness. Anger. Fear. Laughter.
“Pray that your loneliness may spur you into finding something to live for, great enough to die for.”
– Dag Hammarskjold
Trying to nap on my parents’ love seat Christmas 2011 with Ava just a week after my first surgery
I find myself wrapped in my own darkness these days. Regardless of the number of close friends and family that provide comfort, I cannot help but feel alone – forced into a self-inflicted isolation. In this solitary state I boil over with a mixture of emotions from pure desperation to crippling resentment. I fear life, I fear death, but most of all I fear that this is my new “normal” – though, admittedly, anxiety has always resided inside me even before these complications. I catch myself resenting seemingly healthy individuals on the street. The key is I catch it and remind myself that the diseases I fight are (mostly) invisible to others. Judge not lest ye be judged.
Strangely enough I find laughter every day, even as I step into the shadows. This has not always been true. It certainly wasn’t true six months ago. But overall I have (mostly) regained my sense of humor. If I don’t find a way to laugh, I spiral back into despair. I still experience days, such as yesterday, when I can do nothing more than crawl into a corner and sob into my pillow, mascara streaking across my face. There are days I pick myself up, only to drop right back down. My husband tries to console me, but my condition is not exactly relatable to what most individuals my age have experienced. Continue reading
“I would like to explain the meaning of compassion, which is often misunderstood. Genuine compassion is based not on our own projections and expectations, but rather on the rights of the other: irrespective of whether another person is a close friend.”
– Dalai Lama
We went to a wedding yesterday for a dear friend of my husband. I knew it would be physically taxing, but I never predicted the emotional toll it would take on me. The day was beautiful, but we knew it would be long. On our way to the campus church we had to turn around not once but twice to pick up items we had forgotten – and we still left the camera behind. Like all events, the wedding was packed with hurdles, but it ended with one of the most memorable ceremonies I have witnessed.
My beautiful cane
My husband was a member of the wedding party so pictures followed the ceremony. I sat in the very back, where I could prop my foot up after standing for the ceremony. I concentrated on the children running around. Concentration helps me temporarily forget the pain. Continue reading
The Illusion of Colorlessness
“Shades of grey wherever I go
The more I find out the less that I know
Black and white is how it should be
But shades of grey are the colors I see.”
– Billy Joel
One of my favorite photographs from our 10-year wedding anniversary trip to Las Vegas. It was on our anniversary, and I was getting ready for our big night to see Phantom of the Opera in our hotel, and my foundation somehow dribbled out into the shape of a heart. Even on the IVs, this was one of the best days of my life.
Life is not colorless, despite how it may feel. As we move from darkness towards the light, the shades of grey slowly regain bits of color, but no one said this transition was easy – or simple. Continue reading
The Struggle of a New Optimist
“I like the man who faces what he must, With steps triumphant and a heart of cheer, Who fights the daily battle without fear.” – Sarah Knowles Bolton
From one of my photoshoots with a great photographer who actually came to me for once!
I’m not really certain whether I have truly earned the title of “optimist,” but I’ve certainly come closer than I have ever been. But it seems as if every moment I achieve blissful optimism a major setback arises – I’m talking about earth-shattering setbacks. Yesterday I wrote about how great it felt to finally see the light at the end of the tunnel, yet today I received bad news – extremely bad news. I found myself starting down my old path of pessimism when I left the doctor’s office asking myself, “Why me?” “Why me” is one of those questions that start us on a self-destructive path to other questions and ponderings, such as my typical, “This is not fair,” montage. The light that I must focus on is I recognized this moment and stopped to think, not react. Uncertainty brings a lot of anxiety, and my day was saturated with it. Continue reading
“Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear.” – Ambrose Redmoon
Some days are more difficult than others, though this last week was particularly hard. I transitioned into a new position and underwent my third surgical procedure. While I was plagued with information overload for the first two days, by Wednesday I actually began to feel as if I just might be catching on. There’s still much to learn, but rather than being overwhelmed I am simply exhausted…but strangely happy. On a Sunday night, I’m not dreading the return of the work week. I stay busy, am an important component of journal publications, and truly enjoy my coworkers.
I suppose I might have brushed over the surgery part. Since my surgery in December, wound care has noted something protruding under my skin that hurt to touch. It has slowly risen closer to the surface, and wound care became afraid it would pierce the skin and cause another infection. I braced myself for the worst: a flare-up of the RSD and the extreme pain from the last two surgeries. Continue reading
The Closing of One Door and Opening of Another
“Accept everything about yourself – I mean everything. You are you and that is the beginning and the end – no apologies, no regrets.” – Henry Kissinger
Taking our picture with Aggieland Outfitter’s Bevo (complete with sawed off horns and marked with our last winning score against t.u.) just three hours before he was taken down forever, marking TAMU’s exit from the Big 12 and entrance into the SEC. You can see my sweet pimp cane in the left-hand corner of the gate.
I just walked away from my place of employment for the past nearly four years. The job search was initiated a few months before my federal grant position was scheduled to end: the downside to soft money positions.
It wasn’t hard to convince my coworkers that I would be okay professionally. After all, I have a great opportunity starting Monday, and there is nothing to stop me from returning in the future should the cards fall in line. Shamefully, I could not explain to everyone that requested future visits to see me well that I simply will never be “well” again. Yes, the wound will heal, but the CRPS will always lurk. In fact, we see its existence with every emotional outburst during wound care – rapid discoloration right in front of our eyes. Continue reading
Words to live by: “Life is not measured by the number of breaths that you take but by the moments that take your breath away.”
The Wars We Fight
I’m normally in bed by now, but I found myself touched by a song today that I had somehow never heard on my playlist. I’m moved by things that I love, and, honestly, there’s not much that can move me more than music. It’s a song I’ve probably heard a hundred times, but I never actually heard the song until today – Marchin On.
We fight wars everyday. We battle with ourselves. We take on challenges we would prefer to avoid. Sometimes we even take on our medical professionals or their billing departments. Other times your hand is folded before you even start. Some battles are trivial while others are earth-shattering. Every now and then you feel as if they will break you. I am here to remind you that you can pick yourself up and move forward – one step at a time.
I remember when I awoke from my first surgery, I hoped with everything I had that it would not leave a scar behind. And then the complications appeared, and I began to realize I would forever have a large scar on my right foot. It seems trivial after everything I have overcome the last seven months. Then I realized it wasn’t the scar that felt so devastating; it was everything that led me to that scar. And now…well, now I can look at it and remind myself how much strength it took to survive this ordeal (and by “now,” I mean today). Suddenly, my scar feels more like strength than a blemish. Continue reading