I HATE November 8th!

 Well the title says it all...I truly dislike November 8th.  I have tried to do things that make me happy on that day to try and get rid of my distaste for it, but it hasn't worked.  November should be a good month - it's my birthday month, the month before Christmas and the weather usually cooperates.  It's also the month that I was officially diagnosed with Breast Cancer.

Three years.  It's been three years since my roller coaster started; three years since I've felt carefree; three years since I've gone to a doctors appointment and not had a panic attack about what they will say; three years since I've had a weird pain and not worried that it was more than just a normal ache; three years sine I've felt settled and comfortable in my skin; three years since I've felt like me.  

But here is the kicker - my roller coaster has not just been about my cancer diagnosis.  That was just the day that kicked off this three years of weirdness.  It feels like once every year, something happens that makes all the anxiety I feel about my health bubble up again.  In three years I've had the big C (surgery and chemo), a craniotomy to have a brain tumor removed, a ruptured brain aneurysm and the discovery of a second aneurysm I have to have dealt with.  I actually had a doctor say "Wow you've had alot of things in a short time that could have been tragic"...ya thanks doc!!

The aneuryms were the most recent, and oddly the most difficult for me.  Harder than surgeries, harder than chemo, harder than the fog they have both created.  Why you ask??  Because it was completely unexpected.  It caught us all off guard - and all my fears and panic over the last three years came to a head.  It was something that we couldn't plan for and we couldn't talk about the outcome of.  It scared the shit out of me (and those around me I'm told).  If you are wondering how you know if you have a brain bleed, trust me you will know.  It felt like a major league slugger wound up and hit me in the back of the head with a baseball bat.  And then I remember little - except having to be in the hospital for 20 days for observation.  Was the least fun experience I have ever had.

So now I have to try not to have my anxiety sky rocket every time I have a pain in my head, or a panic attack every time I feel like I just can't do anything else cause I'm so tired.  And I now have to actually admit that alot has happened and the time I need to recuperate cannot be measured.  My body and my brain still have days where they are like NOPE...not doing anything productive today; they have days where they are angry (I don't know if that is an official medical term but the neuro guys used it often to describe my brain).  Days where I literally could sleep or zone out for 12 hours straight.  That may not be practical, but I'm learning that if I don't listen to what my body and head tell me, the following days are not very much fun.  

So here is my plan.  I have recently re-discovered my love for crafting so I will spend more time in my craft room because it calms me.  I will not sweat the small stuff.  I will try REALLY hard to keep my anxiety in check and not let it define me - but I will not suppress it if it does come.  I will continue to try and focus on the things that are really important...family, friends and trying to smile every day. And on the days when I can't feel like I can function, I won't.  I will curl up with a book or a movie, or just crawl into my bed and sleep.  And I will not feel one ounce of guilt doing it, nor will I feel like I need to explain it to people.  This is no one's roller coaster but mine (although I appreciate those that come along for the ride with me LOL). 

November 8th will still bear the brunt of my hate cause it was the start of the craziness - plus I don't want to have to hate more than one day a year.  But on November 9th I'll pick myself up and put one foot in front of the other - unless I'm tired then you will find me napping :-)

As an aside, please don't feel sorry for me.  I have a ton in my life that I am grateful for.  A husband who didn't ask for the crazy, but has been through it all with me and continues to make me laugh; kids who are happy and healthy and who are becoming more amazing young ladies with every day that passes; family that literally drops everything when they get a call that we need help and that help hold me together when I need it; friends that I honestly consider family and could not do without.  Sometimes I feel like I don't deserve to have so many good people in my life, but I will hold tightly to every one of them and work to never take them for granted.  My life is good but just has a few speedbumps along the way. But that's ok - it keeps life interesting.  But if the universe is listening, I'd really like a boring life for a little while please.

Take care all....
J

Masks we wear

It's been a couple of months since I popped in here.  I went back and re-read my last post, and really wish I could say that all the angst that was there is gone.  In short, it's not.  I truly cannot believe how long all this stuff is hanging on.  The good news is I have gotten better about voicing when I need space, and about saying no if I just can't muster the energy to go out. 

What has hit me more in the last couple of months is the look I get from people when I tell them I am not yet back at work.  I always get "but you look fine".  If you want to make someone going through mental illness agitated, tell them they look fine.  On top of feeling like you have to explain, the feelings of guilt associated with not being whole yet set in at a whole new level.  For me, what I wish people would understand is that I've become a master of faking it.  I can slap a smile on my face and head out for dinner; I can cheer at my daughter's cheerleading practices and competitions; I can keep things in order most of the time as long as I have a list; I can hide the days that make this whole thing the hardest thing I've ever been through.

What people don't see are the days when a panic attack takes over and I literally have to call my husband just to talk me down; they don't see the multitude of tears that are shed because I'm tired of dealing with this shit or for no reason at all; they don't experience the wrath of my short fuse or swing of emotions; they don't see me struggle to get up the stairs because my joints feel like they are on fire all the time; they don't see that smiling daily sometimes doesn't happen - because I fake it. I'm not looking for sympathy (in fact please don't feel sorry for me), but I want people to understand why the phrase "you look fine" upsets me.

The thing is, I'm tired of feeling guilty or trying to explain when people don't get why I say I'm not ok.  I don't owe anyone an explanation cause, honestly, the people that see me daily do see me with my mask off.  My husband is a rockstar - he gets it and just hugs me (or leaves me alone - he can tell when to do which) until the crazy has passed.  My kids have come to understand that most time my short fuse doesn't have to do with them (apologies go a long way in making sure they know it's not about them).

Even with the cuckoo that can take over, I am trying.  I have, however, gotten a new perspective.  I was the person that always said "just decide to be happy" or "don't stress about things that are our of your control or that you cannot change".  Man I must have sounded like an idiot to those I was saying it to. I have tried getting up in the morning and "deciding" to be happy; I've tried meditating to let go of the things I cannot control; I've tried shaking off the feelings of inadequacy, I've tried just moving on and applying the tricks that help discover the new me (also decided I hate that term).  You know what happens when I try to do this?  I feel worse cause it doesn't work and I spiral.  Then I get mad cause I'm like WTF is wrong with me??  For me, right now, this doesn't work.

Having said all this, things seem to be a little bit better.  Headaches are still a thing; memory loss is still a thing; pain is sticking around; concentration and retention of information are nowhere to be found; fatigue has set up camp in my bones; the feeling of meh persists.  But I did find myself sitting around the dinner table laughing while my kiddos danced and hubby told stories.  Seems like a small thing, but laughing made me feel a tiny bit normal. I think moving forward I will put myself in situations where laughter prevails - and the tears become tears of joy.  Fingers crossed!!

Thanks for everyone who listens to (or reads) my rants.  It is appreciated and it does help me :-)  With any luck, they will turn into "I'm ready to take on the world" posts in the near future - although my next post may be lots of reminiscing about my babies - I'll be sending my oldest off to university in September and I already feel verklempt.

J