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Stupid and Useless

  • Posted on December 4, 2014 at 10:00 AM

Those are loaded words when you’re part of a community of people with disabilities. Far too many people have been derided as stupid and useless for far too long. Yet those words struck a chord with me.

“Stupid useless pain is much harder to bare than pain with purpose.” –Dr. David Schnarch

I read these words in a book about marital relations. Of course, the book in question addresses far more serious situations than I am concerned with, but I’m finding the basic tools are applicable. More to the point, the pain I thought of when I read these words did not involve (at least, not directly) my husband Mark.

I’m not prone to hyperbole, so believe me when I say the last two months have been hell for me. I’ve had meds messing with my mind. I’ve had so many troubles and complications that I’ve given up hope, gotten it back, given it up, and gotten it back more times than I can count. I’ve been sick for over a month and got so used to feeling weak and dulled that I didn’t realize how far I’d slipped until I started to climb back up to my strength. I’ve been angry at God. I’ve coughed until my lungs hurt and then coughed some more. And, no matter how much I try to get back on track, I keep slipping back into a cycle of decline-and-recovery. I’m still not even with myself.

Most of this time, I’ve felt like everything I’ve been going through was stupid and useless. It’s been painful—physically, mentally, emotionally, and spiritually painful—and it was useless and stupid and ENOUGH IS ENOUGH ALREADY!!!

Like most human beings, I seek relief when I’m in pain; yet, I’ve gone through some incredibly painful experiences and I’ve bore them much better because I’ve understood their purpose. I’ve born these last two months quite poorly. I’ve done things I despise, like yelling at my child for being uncooperative because I just couldn’t handle one more thing. I haven’t done things that I should, like finishing all the work I promised to my clients months ago.

As an adult, when Mark moved to a new place, he’d walk around until he got thoroughly lost in order to learn more about the place he chose to live. On the other hand, we took a trip as a family and I ended up missing an important turn. Instead of going down I-35, we were going down I-90. We got so lost and mixed up trying to cut across between the two that Mark literally used the sky to navigate for me. I hate being lost. Mark takes it in stride and he finds the way forward.

These last two months I’ve been lost and I hated every moment of being lost. I hated being weak. I hated being tired. I hated being in pain. I hated my complete inability to turn things around. I was fighting so hard against the things I hated and I wasn’t getting anywhere. It was stupid useless pain and it was eating me alive.

Then, I stopped fighting. This time it wasn’t a matter of giving up; it was more a matter of looking around and looking up. Two things occurred to me. First, I knew that I had finally completed my memoir and that, whatever happens, it will be published. Second, I saw that in trying to start from scratch I’d begun writing again.

Granted, my business is a writing business. I’m always writing something. But everything I’d been writing since I obtained my graduate degree in writing was written with a specific purpose in mind. Whether it’s for a client or for myself, it’s all been driven by a purpose, by an objective, by a goal. Everything I’ve written has been practical.

I am not, naturally, a practical person. I’m a dreamer. In living my dreams, I’ve pursued practical purposes that, together, are supposed to realize my dreams. But practicality doesn’t come naturally to me. Dreaming does. So, when it came time to replenish my creative well, I started writing the passionate ideas that came to me—without a predefined purpose. And it was liberating.

Now, practically speaking, I’d stopped writing in order to better use my time in my writing business. I suspect that there was no other way to get me writing again than to knock me so thoroughly down that I had to go back to my roots as a writer just to stand myself back up. You see, decades ago when I started writing, it wasn’t with purpose—just passion. I loved to write. Writing excited me. It thrilled me. Cultivating my talent and turning it into a business was something I was proud of, something I loved.

Then, once I’d actually got my business up and running, there came the pressure and the consequences of that pressure and the consequences of those consequences. I became driven. I was still inspired and I was still passionate, but I wasn’t using that passion or that inspiration, not to its fullest. I was working towards a purpose. Everything else fell to the wayside, including the love I had for what I was doing.

So, while I’m still recovering, I’m recovering with a purpose. I’m recovering my faith. I’m recovering my inspiration. I’m recovering my work ethic. And, yes, I’m recovering my health, too. My life is imbalanced, but I’m getting better now that I have a purpose I can really live with, despite the pain. And I’m about one-fourth of the way through the first draft of a novel that I’ve been trying not to write for at least six months. Now, that was stupid and useless, wasted effort. And I realized it by realizing, once again, that pain is necessary for growth and renewal.

A New Kind of Recovery

  • Posted on June 30, 2014 at 10:00 AM

So, last Tuesday I went to the doctor because of severe stomach pain and came out of the hospital without a gall bladder. By that time, I’d nearly made a full recovery from my last flare up of fibromyalgia (the diagnosis will be confirmed or changed later today, I hope), which doesn’t mean “cured” of course, but it does mean I had energy and concentration levels that were similar to what I’d had before my crash.

Now, I’ve spent almost a week recovering from my infection and surgery. I’ve got about five more weeks before my body is fully healed (no more weight restrictions and no more bathing/swimming restrictions), but I suspect I’ll have my energy and concentration levels back up before then. I’m already feeling remarkably better consider I slept all of the first day after my surgery and most of the second. I’ve even put in a few part-days of work and one full one, though only the one. With any luck today will be my second.

Unfortunately, now that I’m well-rested and on the mend, my insomnia is back, as was proven last night. I tried to sleep, but I couldn’t. Then, I took melatonin and a sleeping pill and they sort of worked and sort of didn’t. I’m starting to think my sleep issues are going to be the most difficult to resolve.

Before my surgery, I was beginning to sort out the difference between fibromyalgia pain and arthritis pain. Then, once the gall bladder issue started I had a new kind of pain to factor into the equation. By the time I went to the doctor it was all gall bladder pain all the time. After the surgery, my other pains were muted and I had a rather deep, cutting kind of pain to deal with, but I also had the kickass power of percoset to keep that under control. Now, I’m off that and my abdomen is tolerable and I’m back to feeling my fibromyalgia pain.

It’s been a rocky week. Alex missed his Summer Swim two times in a row. If he goes again at all, it will have to be because Mark or my mother takes him. I’m on a no-swimming, no-baths regimen until after the first week in August. It’s a new kind of recovery. It’s certainly better than having kept my gall bladder, but it’s going to take some getting used to, now that I’m actually awake enough to get used to it.

Sleeping Through the Night

  • Posted on June 20, 2014 at 10:00 AM

I have this goal that somehow, someday I will be able to go to bed at night, sleep through the night, and stay awake through the day. In other words, I want a normal sleep experience. I want to have this normal sleep experience consistently. This may or may not involve an occasional nap, but that’s okay.

This is a dream that seems far from my reality. My sleep schedule is no longer a schedule. I can get four hours of sleep at a time, sometimes up to six, but that can happen at any time. I can force myself to be awake at a certain time, but the effect is only temporary. My sleep schedule rotates from being awake during the night to being awake during the day, with about two complete shifts per week. I rotate from a 18 hour day to a 36 hour day (in contrast to a 24 hour day), but those are just rough estimates. The point is that my sleep “schedule” is definitely not healthy.

So, I had a sleep study to start the healing process. That happened Tuesday night. I arrived around 9 pm. I was brought into a room that resembled a hotel room, complete with a bed, two night stands, a bathroom, and a television. I watched a video that explained the sleep study process and what they might discover about my sleep. After that was done, I got into my jammies.

Then, the technician wired me. It was similar to the boys’ EEGs, but different, too. The technician told me that most sleep technicians were actually EEG technicians. There were wires for my head, my face, and my legs. There were straps with wires across my chest and my abdomen. These wires were tucked in a “ponytail” and clipped to one of my straps. While they were uncomfortable, they felt psychologically restraining.

The sleep technician went off to her other patient and I filled out the paper work I was supposed to have completed before I arrived, as well as the few forms that I got from the technician. I finished shortly before the technician returned to plug me in so I could go to bed. I was definitely drowsy. A few more wires were added, including a bandage-like one for my finger, which would measure my blood oxygen levels.

It was all pretty painless. Then, I went to bed on the adjustable bed. I made it a soft (but not too soft) number 50. The pillows were thinner than I usually prefer. The technician became a disembodied voice over a speaker. She ran me through a few maneuvers – breathing, wiggling one leg, then the other, looking (with just my eyes) up, down, and to each side. Then, I was allowed to roll onto my side, using one of the pillows to help support my upper leg, and go to sleep. Sometime during the night, the disembodied voice told me to sleep on my back, so I did. Then, I fell asleep again and had a weird dream about being strapped and wired with a disembodied voice giving me commands. It wasn’t frightening, but it was a sci-fi version of the real experience I was having and it was a bit disturbing.

I woke up around 4 am and had to go to the bathroom. It’s a good thing it wasn’t urgent, because she had to come in and unplug me before I could go, which was different from our EEG experience. I told her that I wouldn’t be able to sleep again, which is usually true. She needed me to lie down for another hour, even if I didn’t sleep. So, I did, though I didn’t want to. I was restless and awake and annoyed for some time, and then I heard the disembodied voice telling me it was time to wake up. Somewhere in between those two events I fell asleep, though it didn’t feel like I had. It seemed like I was conscious of the time between, but maybe I wasn’t. I wondered what level of sleep I’d reached in the duration, but I didn’t ask. She unplugged me, unwired me, asked me a few questions, gave me a few instructions, and I got dressed.

I slept through the night and I felt better rested than I usually do. I wasn’t as sore as I usually am in the morning, but I don’t know if it was because I didn’t toss and turn as much (because I was conscious of being wired, even in my dreams) or if it was because I’d made the bed much softer than my own. I was able to drive to the convenience store and then to Dunkin’ Donuts and then home without a problem, even though I hadn’t had my morning medicine. I took that when I got home and tried to get back into my routines. It was difficult, because everything was different. It was disorienting. But I’d slept. Hopefully it provided the doctor with the information he needs to help do it more often. We’ll see.

Crash and Burn

  • Posted on May 19, 2014 at 10:00 AM

Maybe you haven’t noticed, but I haven’t been on for a while. I haven’t been blogging. It’s been much, much longer since I’ve been on any of my other social media sites. I’ve been like an airplane falling from the sky, dropping projects, tasks, and responsibilities in the hopes of getting airborne again, until, eventually…I just crashed.

Crash and burn. I crashed a few weeks before my graduate courses ended. I was in so much pain I could barely stand it. I was taking a round of OTCs every four hours and taking up to three super-hot baths a day to relieve the pain. The low point, however, was the day I tried to do some reading from my textbook. I was having so much trouble concentrating I had to force myself to finish a single page. When I made it to the end of the page I looked up and realized TWO HOURS had passed. I spent TWO HOURS reading a single page from my textbook.

I called the doctor. Finally, he was convinced. I received a tentative diagnosis of fibromyalgia, a prescription for pain relief specified for the treatment of fibromyalgia, and a referral to a rheumatologist. The medicine helped just enough to allow me to finish my course work on time (barely) and secure my 4.0. Now, with less than a week to go to my rheumatology appointment and no more school work, I’m diverting my new-found ability to concentrate on generating some much-needed income for my family and starting up those things that don’t generate income, but do keep me connected with the world—like this blog.

So, I’m back. I’m not at full-strength, but I am back.