Yesterday is gone thank goodness! After having the weirdest dream I think I could have ever had, social security decided to call; I am so done with those people! It’s a great thing I had counseling after that phone call.
My counselor could tell that the only thing that really got me upset that day, even after a little misunderstanding before that phone call, was that phone call.
Seriously people stop screwing with me already! Either give me help or don’t. Give me the insurance I paid for or don’t. It’s ridiculous to me this American system that we have. Seriously I’m so sick of this!
So anyway, yesterday was just a long day. I pushed myself further and longer than I should have. I had a stool and sitting, but just being upright since 6:20am killed me. I was wiped out after the morning, but I had stuff I wanted and needed to do, like pick my 16 year old up at work at 3. I also wanted to make some custom masks and shirts for my God-daughter for pre-k, she starts today.
If only I could tell you just how many breaks I took, just how much pain I was in, how exhausted I was. I am so beat today! I am so glad that I don’t have to do anything until it’s time to pick that 16 year old up again at the same time today. I am so tired and so sore.
I need to wash towels and do the dishes. My bathroom needs to be cleaned. I need to cook dinner. I need to fold/hang/put away my clothes that have been sitting in baskets for weeks now. I need to call the doctor. I need to do so much, but I’m so tired and I just can’t find the energy. One day of living my life and I’m down for the next several.
Social security is a joke and the system like the rest of it is rigged. They make you fight and wait hoping you’re credits will expire or you’ll give up or die waiting (which is most common). I’m so physically and mentally disabled, and mainly mentally disabled because my physical health makes me more depressed, more emotional, more everything.
Today’s musts are call the doctor, the dentist, and schedule IV fluid therapy for my P.o.T.S. I just can’t seem to get hydrated enough to feel good. I keep getting distracted and forgetting to call.
So this picture is real. It’s my exhaustion. It’s my mental and physical state all captured in one. Yesterday was a rough one. I’m glad it’s done!
The New Year started with me being woke up to sound of his voice in my head telling me to kill myself and how to do it if my life was really that bad. As I remind myself that it’s just his voice and he can’t actually hurt me anymore, I feel for a moment like I can just brush it off and it’ll be no problem.
Then I get all anxious and worked up driving my little love to work on these icy, icy roads…sure enough I start the year off with a meltdown. Tears no yelling this time. I wish people knew how debilitating the damage that has been caused truly is.
They see me smile. They see me bake. They see me do a craft project. What they don’t see is how long it takes me to do that 20 minute craft. What they don’t see is that I’m sitting on a stool with my feet up, just to make those cupcakes. What they don’t see is all the pain, fear, and insecurity behind that smile. What they don’t see is this is my therapy.
That these things are actually ordered as a part of my therapy to teach me how to be free and keep me from going into “meltdowns” or “breakdowns” or “freak outs” (I swear I’m probably on a public freak outs forum somewhere). What they don’t see is the inability to successfully complete or focus on any-one-thing and then feel like a flighty failure.
So in 2021 I’m determined to continue healing. Im determined to become ok with failure. I’m determined to become okay with not being able to do like others do. I’m determined to be a better version of me.
2021 started for me the same way most other days start; paranoid and anxious, wishing my sleep didn’t haunt me. I made it the rest of the day though…progress.
I hope to continue to share my story. I look back over the growth of my writing I’m the last year and I can see my own personal growth. Thank you for taking this journey with me. I hope to be a light, a hope, an inspiration to those around me. Please don’t read my stories and feel sorry for me. Instead read my stories, heal yourself or someone else, but most of all learn to find your strength like I am.
Happy 2021 everyone, it can only be a better year. Love, light, and laughter to you all.
When I was growing up I often heard, “Kelly you better be able to find a man who can afford you”, you know I never consider myself spoiled. So why did I hear this?
I’m not exactly certain besides the fact that I love “girly” things like dresses, necklaces, fine jewelry, handbags, shoes, and so many things that sparkle. I may like those things, but I always knew that I was not in a family that could afford those privileges, so it wasn’t something I expected, just loved.
Now I am in love with this man who spoils me with all things that make me smile, my sons the same thing, and his family too. I have never owned so many designer items or just good quality items as I do now. And not really because I ask for them, but because these people get me, or are trying to make me feel like the woman I should have been made to like a long time ago.
These pretty gifts that make me feel like the girly-girl I always want to feel like, these people are have no clue what they are building in me. They are helping me build that soft, gentle exterior that allows to me, from the inside out, to grow the hardened interior that was made, into a soft, gentle, vulnerable, yet strong woman.
Simple things like beautiful handbags, cashmere scarves, head warmers, dresses, gloves, necklaces, teapots…whatever it may be, they clearly get me more than me and they are helping me be who I am. Their gifts allow me to feel free being a girl.
I love feeling pretty and I love feeling comfortable and all these pretty things make me pretty and comfortable. I am always so humbled by these gifts. I feel undeserving; unworthy. Here’s to hoping next Christmas I don’t cry about getting gifts, this year was the least bothered by gifts I’ve ever been, so it can only get better.
One year ago yesterday I had my gastric bypass reversed. 1 year ago today I was already beginning to feel better. I’ve gained soooooo much “healthy” weight since then. I used to let that number on the scale bother me…my doctors now look at me and think I’ve lost weight. They say I am healthy “heat is clear and fat free”…yet I’ve gained 70 pounds.
I have muscle and fat in places I’ve never had it before. My weight in my abdomen has redistributed and now I seriously just need to get serious about this crunch challenge, and tone up the abdomen.
I love the new school of doctors who are like, “Your health is not defined by a number on the scale. Keep up the good work.” My Bari doctor told me I’d gain my weight back and be, “begging him to redo my bypass”, I told him, “I believe I can do it, my doctors, my counselor, and my family think I can do it, so I don’t care what you think.” Sure I gained the 70 pounds I lost since December 2016 to December 2019, but I am happy with it cause I am “healthy” in all the ways I wasn’t before my gastric bypass, partly because of my environmental changes, but mainly because of my effort and hard work now.
It’s mental effort now. I have learned myself through CBT how to control these things and what causes me to have my eating disorders. I also have support at home, they help encourage treats and abstaining. I will even pointed out to me when I’m binge eating, I don’t like it but it sometimes helps get me back on track.
I love that I was told “everyone goes through seasons in life, and your weight changes with those seasons,” those words helped do much in this healing process. The team of doctors and the brain I now have is…a freeing feeling.
Always be honest with yourself and your healthcare team. Seriously they only have your best interest at heart.
I wish I would have been honest sooner. I wish would’ve believed that they wouldn’t hurt me like others had. That my struggles are not who I am. I’m sorry I ever believed they’d think badly of me.
Today my PCP confirmed my Bipolar Type II diagnosis and we increased my Trileptal to the next dosage, I’m pretty excited to see how much more stability I get over the next couple months.
I’m glad I finally spoke up and said, “this is destroying my life please help me”, it has lead to a great treatment and a proper diagnosis. Now I get to have more targeted therapy. Do some behavior modification exercises and hopefully get really good control of my emotions, and hopefully learn to live and enjoy life again.
I have ALWAYS been in love with Tiffany & Co., I have two designers I had always wanted to own a product by; Michael Kors and Tiffany.
As little girl and teen I would often bring up wanting to just visit a Tiffany store. I mean Tiffany Blue is like the perfect color, it’s my favorite. It’s got the perfect levels of green and blue mixed together to give it that beautiful romantic soft blue color. I just love the color of Tiffany Blue!
When I would bring this up I would hear, “Kelly you better find a man that can take care of you.” I didn’t understand what that meant. I would also hear it when I would mention that I wanted to wear more dresses, or I’d hear, “Who are you trying to impress? You better hope and pray someone can afford you some day.” It made me feel terrible about being me. It made me feel like liking nice things was this bad thing. Liking wearing a dress and maybe a tiny bit of makeup or doing my hair was just to gain someone’s attention. That wearing and liking nice things was a bad thing.
And here I am today scared to death to be me. To like Tiffany, to like wearing dresses, to like being “dressed up” even with no where to go. I feel like being “girly” is a bad thing. It was literally bad thing for me to be a girl in my family. It wasn’t embraced at all.
I was made fun of, disciplined for normal emotions and I still struggle today with being okay with normal emotions (I punish myself for having normal emotions now, no one needs to do it for me), made to fend for myself “survival of the fittest” it was in our house, that was thrown around a lot.
I was a sexually abused child who had some mental health problems that no one even cared to deal with, just laugh at me and make fun of me. Tell me that I was, “too girly, too sensitive, too…” there is too much to even write here.
My main point of this is I’m too scared to be me, to like what I like without apologies, without hesitation. I just can’t though even though I know the truth is, that I would “dress up” nearly every day if I thought it wouldn’t get me made fun of, someone wouldn’t assume I’m seeking the attention of people, if I could guarantee that I won’t hear any of the stuff I heard growing up.
I just want to be comfortable with the one Michael Kors bag I bought myself and the desire to own more and the desire to own Tiffany (more than just this piece, this is just my favorite. My love actually had a custom made infinity necklace for me one year for my birthday, I love it too!), nice clothes, wear makeup, do my hair, or whatever it is I want to do. I just want to be confident and be the woman I feel I am. I’m want to do it confidently and without fear.
My sons are the sweetest! I’m pretty certain as sweet as they were was because of me, however I think they’re as sweet as they are to me now because of the way they’ve seen their dad treat me over the last four years.
I’ve been spoiled and treated like a princess. I’ve “wined and dined” although I don’t drink wine and dining is sometimes a meltdown waiting to happen. The menu causes me anxiety so I’ve learned to read the menu and pick what I want before I go. Because their dad said, “you know I think the menu causes you a lot of unnecessary stress and I want to treat you to a nice meal that doesn’t cause you to panic.” And even when I do meltdown and cry at the table he is reassuring and understanding. He’s even realized that the darker the atmosphere the more likely I am to eat a full meal…dark environment meant for the first time ever I ate a 14oz steak and a baked potato…a full meal.
My sons they hear him comfort me and reassure me when I tell him to, “never take me out again because all I do is ruin everything”, damn Autism! They reassure and love to spoil me too now that they like dad work.
I have to admit it’s a little awkward and uncomfortable sometimes and I always feel like I need to do pay them back or do something special for them in return. They make sure to know that I am offending them by that mindset of mine.
These fine young men make me feel like I’m the most special person in there life, even when somedays I can’t feel it. I once told their dad that, “I’d be honored if my sons turned out to be half as good as he did”, and you know I taught the fundamentals. I taught them the basics. I was mom/dad when their adoptive father was too ill to be dad. But my Love came along and showed them how to treat a woman. Really treat her.
Even through the ugly and bad he is showing them how to get through it. He showing them that mom is struggling and she loves you and this is how we help the woman we love get through these things. He is showing them that loving a woman and a family isn’t easy, and most of all he is showing them how to love through it all.
So let’s talk about the title of this blog; “These Bad Boys”. Well I bet you thought this would be a complaint post, but actually as you see its not. What I’m actually referring to is this photo:
These air pods fell out of their case that was clipped to my key chain in my “Gameboy” case( I finally got my Gameboy, 😂 read the green leash blog) and clipped to my Love’s belt loop. We lost them on Labor Day at the Kankakee State Park. We had walked the trail and it was a beautiful day.
Well Wednesday night I wanted to use my AirPod Pros, opened my case, and they were gone. I immediately said, “I think someone ganked my AirPods out of the case. My son bought them for me and I was sad that we lost them and I was certain they’d be gone.
Well Thursday I actually won one. Finally! We took bikes and rode the trail and found them off the beaten path. I fell before we found them off the bike. I had some kind of heart episode that I chalked up to P.o.T.S., but now we’re not so certain.
The first incident was scary enough resulting in some scrapes and bruises, but I didn’t careen off the cliff into the Kankakee River and die. I chose to go limp and drop onto a very cushy, yes very cushy tree root system. It had clearly had the earth cover removed from it because of the rushing waters of the river when it’s flooded over; the roots were rotted and soft, and I knew my chances of getting hurt were small, so I told myself “go limp” and I did. With minimal injury just superficial scratches and some bruising.
On the way back from finding the AirPod Pros, I felt like I literally had a heart attack. The sad part is that I couldn’t go to the hospital because had it not been a heart attack and just my P.o.T.S. I would have been forced to pay the bill because my Indiana Medicaid is only allowed to be used out of state in a “true emergency”. You see if I had Medicare I could have called an ambulance if I wanted or had my permitted son to rush me to the hospital just down the road. But nope I have insurance that is only allowed to be used in Indiana.
I called my doctor the next day, by that point since I wasn’t having any real symptoms at that point, besides some discomfort we believed was from my heart being 200bpm or more. By the time I came through and looked at my Apple Watch ⌚️ my heart was at 184bpm and my chest hurt so badly.
This pain in my chest was like no other before. My whole left breast all the way up under my armpit, around to my back and it stayed pretty much on the left side, and up into my shoulder and neck. I did not have left arm pain in any way. I couldn’t catch my breath and I was profusely sweating.
I threw the bike and myself down and said, “No, no, no I have to sit my chest hurts”. I begin stripping my clothes off right there on the trail where I was sitting. My 17 year old right there and I absolutely could not say “I think I’m having a heart attack”. I lost all track of time I don’t know if it was 5-10 minutes, or 10-15, or 2 minutes, but my son said that I didn’t look good at all. He was quite worried. In the car I told him what I had thought had happen. He was as cool as a cucumber 🥒 and kept asking if I was ok.
He began suggesting getting something cold to drink and he was glad that I had not panicked at all because it “would make it worse if I was or did have a heart attack”. Me I didn’t panic once. Even telling myself, “if I panic or get upset in anyway they won’t believe me and they’ll chalk it up to anxiety and a panic attack.” For so long we have trying to figure out this flutter and cough and swelling, and so much, well maybe I should have told my doctor what I thought it was a long time ago, not fear it, but speak up.
I see him Thursday and I’m pretty certain I have CHF and have been in CHF for a while. You know I want to be a doctor and I am a horrible patient. Probably because I know my body, I’m kind of a Medical Savant. Like I’ve always known medicine and understood things about the human body without any formal training. When I was around 10 I visited the nursing department at Purdue University Calumet and I got at 98% on the nursing school entrance exam. The head of the department said they should advance me to college, I think she was joking, but I think she was serious too.
The worse patient because I’m usually right. I don’t want to confirm CHF, even though I know it is manageable and that I can live a happy healthy life where I manage it and help my heart do it’s job more efficiently and effortlessly. I’m pretty certain the stressful life I lived has caused a lot of this damage. I know it’s also partly genetics 🧬. I’m just glad I have a team of medical professionals I trust.
I’ll see what is going on Thursday. For now I’m just taking it easy. Just relaxing. Trying to keep my heart from spiking in rate because if it spikes I cough and can’t breathe or catch my breath. So just going to chill for a little. If you’re the praying type, will you pray for me. It’s scary at 35.
All in all we found the AirPods and I feel like I won one. I had a great dream last night. I know I must pursue medical school and that God will help my doctors get me through. God called me a “Medical Savant” in my dreams last night over and over again I heard it. I have never referred to myself like that. Makes sense though. I will be Dr. Ge someday. So please pray for me.