unabashed-honesty

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Just another day of living with RA 😖

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THIS

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Because sometimes this is the only thing that will help.

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Just a little of my musings from Feb 2023

I’m learning to move away from my all-or-nothing mindset. Like take today for example. It’s warm outside. Too warm for February. But it’s a wonderful reprieve from the kind of weather that forces you to clench every muscle and move quickly from one sheltered place to another. And as much as I’d love to go for a walk or even just putter around my yard, I’m much too tired to do so. My monthly allergy shots take a lot out of me.

And so my initial thinking is that I’m wasting the day. I start chastising myself for not being able to take full advantage of this day. But this is so harmful. To belittle my needs. Is the day truly wasted if I don’t spend all of it outdoors? Or can laying in bed listening to birdsong be part of enjoying it; or driving from the doctors watching crows soar through the air; reveling in not struggling to maintain my body temperature; just enjoying the additional sun.

Because otherwise that means anyone who is bedridden or anyone non-ambulatory “wastes” every day. It would mean they never get pleasure from a beautiful day because they’re unable to move about freely outside. And I really can’t believe that to be true at all.

Not to mention, what is pleasure and enjoyment but something deeply personal? If I find pleasure in staying in and napping all wrapped up in pillows and blankets until all you can see of me in my nose and mouth, why isn’t that good enough? When does pleasure outweigh needs? My needs must be met before I can even consider doing something solely for the sake of it. If my needs aren’t met, nothing else can happen.

So today I will turn my head and look out the window at the sunshine while snuggly ensconced on my blanket and pillows and appreciate the day in my own way.

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Old post

A quick PSA for today:

I took some photos to keep my dormant OF account from being deleted. I have been anxious about it and trying to avoid it. Why? Because my body and I are not friends lately.

Deep breath here…

At the end of December 2023, I weighed 170 lbs. As of last week (May 2024), I was up to 196. Yes, I gained 26 lbs. in that short amount of time. And why? No fucking clue.

Today I weighed myself and I was 191. How did I lose 5 lbs since last week? Again, no fucking clue.

Bodies are fucking weird. And my body has been going through some shit. I haven’t changed anything dramatically since December, yet I’ve gained a significant amount.

Here’s where the PSA begins.

You can’t ever know why someone is the way they are. You can’t ever know why someone weighs what they do. I can’t stop everyone (including myself sometimes) from making snap judgements about people; but, I can encourage others to take a moment to remind yourself it’s neither any of your business nor your place to have an opinion.

Some bodies are fat. That’s just how human biology is. And sometimes people are fat because they struggle with eating and/or exercise. Sometimes because of health conditions. Sometimes because of medication. Sometimes just because that’s how their bodies want to be.

Either way, it doesn’t matter. And it makes no statement on the inherent worth of a person.

I have struggled with body image and self-esteem my whole life. I try my fucking hardest not to be hard on myself over my body, to remind myself that not only is my weight just a number, but that being overweight doesn’t mean I’m not beautiful. That I’m still a good person. That being fat isn’t a slur. Not good, not bad. It just is.

So I share this with you because I find that if I share my struggles with others, not only might I reach someone who needs to hear this, but also that it helps me to face my feelings and process them.

So if you needed to read this, great. I’m glad you’re here. And if you just needed to see a pair of glorious tits, then I’m happy for you too 😂

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Ready for TMI time? Awesome, here we go.

I taught a yoga class over this past summer, and this post is from then…

The studio is 30 min from my house, so I had to wake up and get my ass moving a lot earlier than I normally do. (Don’t judge, my body is stiff as fuck in the morning.) Being off my routine gives me anxiety, but I can persevere when needed. But then the drive in was busy and stressful 😖 Just my luck.

When I got to the studio I started feeling some rumbles in my belly. I was just prescribed Wellbutrin and Xanax for anxiety and panic attacks, and I’ve been on the Wellbutrin for about a week now. One of the main side effects is constipation. Awesome since I already have enough gut issues 😑 ANYWAY…I was like, “Ok, now is NOT the time.” I went to the bathroom and tried to 💩 and no dice. Ok, fine, we’ll just suffer in silence as always.

I started getting hot and flushed and sweaty as I walked back into the studio. IYKYK. Luckily the studio has a large garage door that opens up so you feel like you’re practicing outside. So I thought, “Let me go outside and make myself more presentable before anyone comes in.” I started walking slowly around the garden just looking at all the different plants. Identifying them in my head. I started listing the birds I heard. I tried to move slowly and breathe slowly. And you know what? IT FUCKING WORKED! As the first student came in 5 min later, I was calmed down and no longer feeling ill. That brain guy axis is so joke! And the fucking power of breath and mind control is real! Lesson learned.

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“You don’t look sick.” Ah, but I am.

Today is one of those days that I’m angry and disappointed in myself and just feeling defeated by my chronic conditions. I never wanted this. I never wanted to be on 10 different medications. I never wanted to be unemployed. I never wanted to feel like a drain on my family, on our finances. And I’d give close to anything to have all of this disappear.

But, unfortunately, I’m stuck in this body. Stuck with these illnesses that have no cure and very little chance of remission. I’m stuck never knowing how I’m going to feel from day to day—and often even just hour to hour. It’s exhausting being sick but not looking sick. It’s exhausting holding in my feelings because there’s literally nothing anyone can do to help, so why burden them? There are days, like today, that I just want to curl into a ball and sob. But what will that accomplish?

This was not the life I planned for. This is not the partner my husband married. This is not the parent my kids used to know. And even though I know they love me so much and wouldn’t want anyone else, it still kills me to know I can’t be who they deserve.

I have yet another condition to figure out. I’m seeing a neurosurgeon in a few weeks to figure out why my right leg goes in and out of numbness all day and sometimes just gives out on me. And why my arms do the same. I will now be under the care of my primary doctor, endocrinologist, rheumatologist, allergist, therapist, dermatologist, gynecologist, and neurologist/neurosurgeon. And all for actual conditions, not just wellness checks.

Don’t feel sorry for me; I’m not searching for sympathy. Sometimes I just need to get these thoughts and feelings out of my head so I can move forward. And today is just one of those days.

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I used to have a noticeable callous

Right on my middle finger,

years of writing visible on my skin.

Some things mundane,

such as:

Grocery lists

College notes

Papers graded.

Some more meaningful:

My thoughts

My hopes and plans

Dreams

Stories to tell

Responses to and connection with others.

That callous a record of it all.

But now?

That callous, which was once so prominent

is now all but a memory,

the tiniest whisper of it if you look closely enough.

Because when was the last time in

my life

that I wrote every day?

When I had so much to say?

When I wasn’t so consumed with

My body

My illnesses

My worries?

When my batteries weren’t always at low capacity?

Some will say it’s technology that did it in—

The scrolling

The mindless viewing of others’ lives—

taking over the focus on my own.

And oh how I wish that was it.

How I wish I was more invested in others

than myself.

Because now

instead,

All I can do,

All I can focus on is:

Will I be able to stay out of bed today?

Will my hands work?

Will this urge to sob escape me today?

Will I ever feel like I once was?

Will I ever be me

once again?

It’s a lonely place here.

It’s a lonely place to watch others,

to watch your own life pass you by.

For some to assume

You’re lazy

Unmotivated

Unfocused

Wasting yourself.

When you’d give up nearly anything to just

hop into a Time Machine

back

to when things weren’t easy, but

when things were still possible.

When your dreams and goals and aspirations

didn’t depend on making everything feel

So Much Worse

just to get a glimpse of what was.

When it all was more than just

wishful thinking

at best,

but

more like

unrealistic expectations

in truth.

It’s said that things won’t always

be like this.

It has to get better.

Nothing is good or bad all the time.

But will it?

Really?