Still Grieving

In the 4 1/2 years I've been writing this blog I've only done one post on grief. And even that one I managed to twist into a hair post. Hah! That sounds just like me. Grief is hard. It's hard to talk about, write about and to go through.

Sometimes I'll be talking about a new symptom or pain I'm going through and I'll just start crying. I'm often surprised by my emotions around my illness. They like to sneak up on me. For me my grief is often masked by my upbeat positivity. But this is a very thin crust. Poke it just a little and I crumble.

My life is nothing like what I thought it would be. I have had my MFT license for three years now and haven't been able to use it. I worked 10 years to get that license and have my "dream job" of being a psychotherapist. Only to watch that future slip through my fingers.

I thought I would be contributing financially so the burden wouldn't all be on my partner. So he could retire early and not have to stress about money so much. Instead I'm worried he has an ulcer from his stressful job. It sucks. Bad.

I thought I'd be able to walk and run for much much longer. I thought I'd have a pain-free life. Or... you know. At least a normal amount of pain. I never could have imagined I'd have migraines, plates and screws in my skull, the level of forgetfulness that I struggle with, not be able to take a bath because I can't get in and out of the tub... (This could be a very long list.)

Yes, it could be worse.
Yes, many people are in similar situations.

But it's still ok for me to grieve my massive loss. And for those close to me to grieve too. It's bullshit that I can't work. That my body does nothing but fail me.
I'm angry.
And sad.

And I'm entitled to feel that way and to let it all out every now and then. 

Never NOT Scary

I missed an opportunity.

I really should have done this post in October for Halloween.

Ah well. For some the winter holidays are even more frightening.

Like "What mobility aid will I need for which house?" "Will they have gluten free food for me?" "What time will it start?" Or "Will I be able to go at all!?" OOoooooOOOoo. Scary.

But what I find the most scary is when my abilities change. Sometimes it's a slow change. The slow boil that's hard to notice. Like not being able to change light bulbs anymore (especially above my head.) More often then not however it's something I used to be able to do one day and then I can't do it the next. Like...

• Walking around the block
• Painting my nails
• Baking
• Staying awake all day
• Driving

You get the idea.

And what I'm learning as I progress down this road is that when it happens it is never not scary. It's never not painful. It's never not alarming. It just doesn't get easier. Then the once unthinkable becomes the norm. Just like COVID did for so many millions of people. 

I don't know how many more of these landmarks are ahead of me. All I can do is savor each moment and enjoy what I CAN do while I can still do it. 

My Migraine

No... "Migraine" is much too small a word for what daemon has wrecked my life. The clinical term might be "migraine" but it's more like an evil possession.

Some of my current diagnosis

My muscle disease affects my body, but the migraines rob me of much more. Most days I feel like a shell... a ghost of my former self. It robs me of my memory, my attention, my eyes focusing, trusting what I'm seeing. It causes me stabbing pain, electric shocks, ear ringing, momentary hearing loss, throbbing pain, visual hallucinations and a general feeling of being really drunk or really high without ingesting anything.

Personally I think all of this is a side effect of my brain surgery on September 27th, 2018 (28 months ago). I read that nerve re-growth and associated issues can take around five years to heal. I would have proceeded with surgery anyway, but I wish someone would have gone over the side effects and talked to me about migraines.

My entire life I've infrequently had very minor headaches. I'd pop a few Excedrine and off it went. I knew people who struggled with migraines, but I thought it was just a super bad headache that maybe caused some nausea, light, sound and scent sensitivity and would last about 24hours. At best I feel like I knew a little bit more than the average person.

But when my migraine symptoms began it wasn't with any of that. I'd have a little headache behind my forehead. Just a tiny one. My symptoms started with feeling very dizzy. I felt like I was hearing myself talking from another room when I'd speak and hearing others talk I felt very far away. That's a big problem for a therapist. I was scared and had no idea what was going on. 

I quickly became too dizzy to safely drive. My husband began taking me to work. After that I could "hang in there" till lunch time, but the symptoms just got worse. With it came the crushing fatigue. I wasn't just tired, I was completely exhausted. It felt a little bit like a horrible hangover.

The headaches began getting a bit worse, but the other symptoms increased quickly. I started to have trouble focusing, both mentally and physically. My eyes would go blurry, like I couldn't physically focus. Of course I still had my muscle issues as well. The worse my migraine symptoms became the weaker my other muscles were. Soon work was ordering me a text to type program for my files as I lacked the physical stamina to type for any length of time. But nothing helped and I became too compromised to work at all.

I had no idea what was going on. I talked to my primary care doctor, crying in his office. He sent me to a neurologist and an ear, nose throat doctor (otolaryngologist). Both of them diagnosed me with migraines right away. I kept arguing that it couldn't be migraines as my headaches "weren't that bad!" I had no idea that migraines take many shapes for different people with an enormous list of effects. I sure know that now!

Every... single... day I struggle with nightmarish symptoms.

I can't work.

Some days I can't even leave my house.

I'm proud of myself for getting out of bed, dressing and showering.

A big part of my life has been reduced to that of a small child.

I have a lot of feelings about that.

Grief

Loss

Anger

Sadness

Fear

My current treatment regimen involves:

• 32 Botox injections around my head and neck every three months.
• Monthly Emgality injection.
• A cocktail of Procholorperazine 5mg (for dizziness and nausea), Naratriptan 2.5mg and 2 Acetamenophin 500mg taken together as needed (but no more than three times a week).

These all help a little.

I'm still not myself though. 

Still unable to do very much.

The worse my migraines are the more exhausted I am and the weaker. It's a nasty cycle. I'm hoping something will click soon to cause a massive improvement or they will heal and go away completely. That would be wonderful!

Until then I sometimes struggle to feel my worth. It takes a lot of intention and attention to really live in the moment. Not let each one slide by in a fog. I do have a beautiful life and I don't want to miss out on any of it.

Important Anniversary

Today marks one full year since I left my job. No... left my career. A career I loved and worked hard to achieve for 10 years. 

When I left I thought it would just be for three months. I thought I could "recover" enough to come back "stronger than ever." Our ableist culture told me this was something I could "fight and win!" I mean... it's not like I had Cancer. Right?

No... not Cancer. What I did have was a serious muscle disease that robs my body of processing energy correctly. What I also had/have is crippling migraines that left me unable to work. They cause pain, blur my vision, make time jump, can make people look like flat 2-D cartoons, give me severe dizziness, make me feel like I'm falling (you know that jump scare feeling when you're almost asleep? It's like that). They cause exhaustion (on top of my energy issues that I already have), make my muscles even worse and cause short term memory problems (on top of the memory problems I already have from my mitochondrial myopathy). Try working with that going on. Even for an hour.

The Botox shots have been hugely helpful. My migraines aren't the kind that come and go. There's bad and worse. So to get any kind of symptom relief is an enormous improvement to my quality of life. But I digress... this was why I had to leave work.

What leaving work did to me? I'm honestly still processing that loss. 2020 has been so shocking and I had so much change so quickly to my entire life that only now is the dust settling in my slow moving (but still brilliant) brain.

I feel the loss of my identity as a therapist profoundly. BUT (there's always a but/and in life if you look closely). But I am also building up new identities as I talked about a little bit before. I am still thriving. I can do both. Re-invent myself and mourn a profound loss all at the same time.

I'm learning the language of my body. What different symptoms mean and how to minimize the big ones (when possible). I'm learning to love myself and all my flaws, not to be "at war" with my disease. My disability is a big identity and it's not one that's healthy to "fight." 

I am the orchestrater of our home. The organizer. The planner. The artist and creative. A daughter, wife and mother. A puppy lover and gardener. I take pleasure in watching the people and things I love grow and flourish. I'm a disability advocate and a friend to some. 

These identities are why today doesn't feel like a loss. Today feels like a day to remember and recognize when my world changed, but I am still myself. Still passionate, wise and full of love and life to contribute to my community... It will just be in a different way than I originally thought and planned. 

Processing Grief

I lost a lot when I became disabled. 

A big part of my identity was wrapped up in my job. No... my career. It felt like I had just barely scratched the surface of a huge part of my life when everything was turned upside down. First by my muscle disease that cause my energy and mobility issues, then again by my brain tumor that left me with potentially life long side effects.

I am very resilient and landed quickly on my feet. I also have fantastic family support. However I don't think I entirely processed what had happened. I feel like I was just taking it one day at a time in survival mode going from one medical appointment to the next. My identity as a helper of others had been turned around completely and now I was the one in need of help. 

I realize now that the dust has settled a bit (and even though that we're still in a global pandemic) I'm finally processing what happened to me. It was very shocking, completely life changing and horrible. Now I'm having to grow my other identities (and dust off old ones, like being an artist) to rebuild myself. 

A Sharpie drawing I did for my Mama

One thing that hit me hard this weekend was that I had been feeling entirely unattractive. My sexuality had been smashed along with my confidence. Not very long ago I was a full time wage earner, busy but invigorated. Now I feel like a "fat, old crippled lady." (My words)

Of course one fix is slow. Weight loss (which I REALLY need to take more seriously!) The other is my sexual confidence. When I look good, I feel good. But let me back up.

For the last 7 years (since I turned 40) I have flirted with my "natural" hair color. I had been a life long dye addict and was curious what my real hair color looked like. So began a very long repetitive process of growing my hair out, coloring it, then whacking it short to go back to my natural color. After my brain tumor I tried out Henna and shunned the drug store box because of the chemicals. But that was a long process that was also very messy.

Well, this weekend I decided to color my hair again. Not henna, but not the drugstore box either. I went with a natural botanical brand of permanent dye and I picked "Licorice." I wanted a black vixen look like Elizabeth Taylor. 

My Mama took me to our local co-op and they had just what I was looking for. Then she colored it for me at her casa. I actually really love it and do feel much sexier and confident in my looks. It's silly how such a little thing can help me mentally, but it did. 

For me this was less about dying my hair and more about regaining some much needed body autonomy. I often feel like my body runs the show and I'm just along for the ride. This time I took the (black) reigns and got some control back. I also happen to think it looks great, which helps my self esteem. All that for just $18. 

I know I'll continue to process and grieve for what I lost, while being aware the whole time of how very lucky I am. My feelings aren't exclusive and I give myself full permission to feel both.