I can’t see clearly now…

When my “Facebook perfect” world imploded back in 2017, I decided to post only truths from then on. If me sharing my experiences could help even one person, then it was worth it. So you’ve seen some pretty raw, emotional posts if you’ve been following me on social since that time.

THIS post, however. This one has been nagging on my heart since I started trying to write it yesterday. And I couldn’t fit it into the constraints of a social media post…

If you’ve known me for a long time, you probably know that I’ve had awful eyes my whole life. If you’re new here, here’s an attempt at a cliff-notes version:

I was born with progressive myopia (progressive near-sightedness). I had my first pair of glasses around 18 months old, and until I was in my 20s I was getting a new glasses Rx every 6 months. Then it slowed down to every year. There came a point that I had to wear contacts and glasses together because they didn’t have either in a prescription high enough by itself to correct my vision. The best they could EVER get me to was 20/30 with both eyes combined.

Then in 2013 I had lens implants in both eyes and LASIK on top of the right. My Rx in diopters prior to surgery was -12.5 in my left eye and -20.5 or some ridiculous number in my right eye. After both surgeries I read off the 20/20 line for the first time in my life!

I was told the surgeries would set me back to square one so I could wear normal prescriptions again when the time came for needing correction. I made it 3 years before I had to start wearing glasses “sometimes”.

I was also told the implants would increase my risk of developing cataracts sooner than normal.

In the coming years I would learn that my retinas were thinning dangerously, due to the football shape of my eyes with my insanely large prescription. I developed mild dry eyes with my Sjogren’s diagnosis. And I started showing early signs of cataract formation.

Yesterday I went to a new doctor at the direction of a friend who works in the eye business, where I got to actually SEE for myself the damage being done to my eyes, because they have some amazing technology in their office. I saw how dangerously thin my retinas are (especially my right), learned that my cataracts are worse and I’m likely to need surgery within 5 years (which will be complicated by the dangerously thin retinas), and I’m borderline legal to drive. I also had it explained that I will never be able to see what other people see with my same prescription because of the shape of my eyes (the cones in my eyes are spread out too much to ever create a clear object to look at). This last part was completely new information.

I knew these things were a risk. And yet here I sit, not knowing how much longer I’ll be able to drive and when I’ll need another risky surgery on my eyes. And I’m only 42.

I’m having a rough time with this information. As if being a human and a mom wasn’t stressful enough, life has thrown us some major curveballs and this just adds more stress.

My word of advice? Take care of your eyes. Don’t fool around with them. I’ve never been lax in the care of my own eyes because of all the hardships I’ve had. And I certainly don’t plan to take what I currently have for granted, because I don’t know how quickly things will continue to change. I’ll go back for another check up in 6 months – yep I’m full circle back to the every 6 month check ups – and hope for the best.

Yo-yo mood

I want to work out.

I don’t want to work out.

I want to do yard work, or paint my kitchen, or clean my house.

I don’t want to do…anything.

I want to be with people!

I don’t want to be with anyone.

I’m excited for what’s coming!

I don’t give a shit.

I love my job.

I need to find something else to do.

Ever go back and forth between these emotions? Am I the only one?

WTF is going on inside my head that I can’t figure out what the heck it is that I want??

I’m assuming it’s stress or anxiety or perfectionism or fatigue or fear or all of the above. I haven’t quite put my finger on it’s etiology, and much like that drives me bonkers in my professional life, it bothers me in my personal life.

I feel like as a medical professional, I should have all the answers, but I don’t. I don’t know anyone who does, medical professional or not. But I still feel like I SHOULD know. And it’s frustrating.

I have no wise words to share on this, I just needed to put it out there that if you’re feeling this way, you’re not alone. The yo-yo mood is strong with this one. It’s real, it’s honest, and it’s apparently part of being human. Sometimes I wish I’d rather be an actual yo-yo. Then it would make sense to feel this way 🤷‍♀️

Stress is no April Fool’s Joke

As I sit here on the eve of April Fool’s, I think of what a joke life has been playing on me for years…

I used to pride myself in how busy I always was. I literally did it all. I guess not much has changed, really, but now I’m not so proud of it as I am just exhausted.

I keep thinking I’m gaining ground and then something happens that puts me two steps back again. I’m sure you know the feeling. We just tend not to talk about it. It’s that hush-hush thing we don’t mention, right? We shouldn’t talk about how stressed we are. We should be smiling and posting pictures on social of our wonderful life like we’re trying to keep up with the Joneses.

I’ve lost just over 20 lbs of my stress weight, and silly me I thought that as I lost weight, my body would be feeling better. But instead, for over a week I’ve been on the verge of an autoimmune flare. Almost 20 years ago, unbeknownst to me at the time, I started having autoimmune issues with a reactive arthritis that crippled me with pain and I missed a lot of work. I would have random joints flare up and be in incredible pain trying to get out of bed in the morning to get ready for work, only to feel like every bone in my feet was broken and I’d have to call out sick.

This past week I’ve had random joint pains again. Previous episodes like this sent me to the ER and urgent care in 2019 and 2020, but this week I haven’t progressed to the severity of those episodes, thank goodness. I have been so scared that it’ll happen again any moment, though… Chronic illness creates a lot of fear. And a lot of stress. The rest of life’s stress tends to seem unbearable when it all stacks up.

Some days I feel like I could conquer the world – those are the days I complete a bathroom remodel or replace a sump pump. I could reenact the scene from Wonder Woman when she emerges from the bunker on those days. Other days I could curl up under the blankets and stay there for days because it all seems like too much. Can you relate? I’m pretty sure many of you can.

So why can’t we talk about these feelings? Why do we have to pretend they don’t exist? Frankly, I’m exhausted of keeping these feelings to myself. I’m a great listener, and I’m always open whenever anyone else needs to talk, but I never want to reciprocate. I don’t want to put my worry on others. I don’t want to admit I can’t always handle it. I don’t want to seem weak. I don’t want to talk when I’m crying! But…I don’t think of others as weak when I listen to them! I don’t feel like others are burdening me! So why do I feel that way myself? Maybe it’s the societal norm. Maybe it’s my history of being bullied and hidden lack of self confidence. Maybe it’s something completely different or all of the above. My point is life is hard. We all live hard. We shouldn’t be ashamed to talk about it.

So find something to joke about in the next 24 hours. Something to lighten the mood a bit. But realize that we’re all in this tragic comedy together. ❤️

Why did I go camping alone?

Why would I do such a crazy thing? Because I needed to do something for me. Yes it may seem a bit drastic, but it was absolutely necessary. Here’s why…

I had several boyfriends growing up, but my first long term relationship started when I was 15. When I was 17, I got pregnant by said boyfriend and I believed I needed to marry him, because I didn’t want to share my child. Well, THAT was an awful idea. We should NEVER have gotten married, especially for those reasons.

In the process of divorce, I met husband #2. He swept me off my feet, but honestly it didn’t take much. In the beginning, we were all giddy and dressed alike and wanted to spend as much time together as possible. Along the way, we had 2 beautiful children and then we grew apart to the point that the divorce was really anything but amicable.

Along came another boyfriend. We had sparks from high school that were re-ignited after hours of talking on the phone working through another ending marriage (he had been there for me through the first divorce as well). Over time, that relationship also was not all it was cracked up to be at first.

So I’ve never been alone. I’ve never truly been single. And while I had many people tell me along the way that I SHOULD be, I didn’t listen. Because I’m stubborn and thought I knew better. I clearly didn’t know better. I’ve gone through years of therapy and finally have learned a few things about being introspective and identifying my issues.

Apparently being bullied to the point of death threats at the ripe age of 13 scarred me more than I could ever have realized on my own. I became a perfectionist, and when the adults that I looked up and respected either took the side of the girls that were bullying me or didn’t believe that I was innocent, my little developing brain thought I wasn’t worthy. I sought love from anyone who gave me attention. I clung to them with all of my soul. And I got into relationships that I shouldn’t have. Well into adulthood, obviously. Only now am I able to see this.

So this solo camping trip was my chance at redemption – to myself. Proof that I COULD do it on my own. Proof that I CAN enjoy my own company. Time to reflect and decide what is truly important in my life. Time to find me and be ok with all of my flaws. But also time to be proud of my own strengths and realize that I am actually capable of the things others tell me I am. Now that I’m in my 40s I can honestly say I feel supported by those around me, and I didn’t always feel that way. Yes there were a few, but that number is far more than I ever realized.

While I was alone on my trip, I was never lonely. I was content. I not only survived, I thrived. And I’ll do it again in a heartbeat.

Should have named this blog Autoimmune Mama…

Stress sucks. There’s no other way about it. It just does. And those are very highly medical terms. Stress sucks.

I have worked in healthcare for over 20 years now in some capacity, but autoimmune diseases were not my specialty, so I didn’t know a ton about them. I’m learning, for sure, due to personal experience, and now I’m devoting education to it on purpose. Many autoimmune diseases are triggered by stress. Who knew?

In the last couple years I’ve been piling on the autoimmune diagnoses, and have tried several medications. It’s not fun trying new medications when you’re prone to side effects. While the meds may be doing some good, they cause more problems and can’t be tolerated. One last fall caused blurred vision, and since I have a long history of ophthalmological problems, I decided it was probably not the best idea to continue that particular medication. The two most recent meds caused me to swell up like a balloon and lose more activity tolerance than I had already lost from my disease process itself. So for fear of causing rare heart related side effects, it was time to stop those medications too. Now I’m on nothing, and it makes me a little nervous.

So I lie here wide awake with discomfort that I just read is common with my latest autoimmune diagnosis, Spondyloarthropathy. My neck is on fire, my left hamstring is on fire, my right shoulder is on fire. My boyfriend is snoring. The dogs are snoring. And I lie here awake, intermittently grabbing my phone to research another question that goes through my head, because if I do fall asleep anytime soon I’ll forget my question until another time when i won’t have the time to look it up. I do a lot of PubMed searches at about this time in the morning more often than I’d like to admit.

I wish I could go back and teach younger me to be more keen on stress management and pay attention to her body more. Had I done more to prevent stress and avoid foods that triggered my symptoms, maybe I wouldn’t be in my current mess. My advice to anyone reading this? Listen to your body. If you don’t feel well, search for an answer, and know that it may not come from a traditional source. Be open to treatment, even if it means you have some lifestyle changes to make. I used to call myself a “carbivore” until I realized the carbs were a trigger for me, since I essentially have a celiac type of response. Now I don’t really miss them, but it took me nearly 20 years to realize that they were a problem for me and be willing to make changes.

What changes would you be willing to make if it meant you’d feel better? Ponder that thought. Comment if you wish. While you think, I’m going to start another Calm app story in hopes of getting back to sleep…

What PTSD feels like

Ever wonder what it’s like to have PTSD? No? Great, let me explain…

PTSD: post traumatic stress disorder. Most people think of it as a result of being in combat, but I’m not a veteran. Myopia and asthma aren’t exactly great military candidate material. But did you know you can get PTSD from other traumatic life experiences? Bullying, abusive relationships (both romantic and business), even neglect and abandonment. Trauma doesn’t have to be be physical and bloody to leave scars. In fact, emotional scars are probably worse to deal with. You don’t know they’re there all the time. They certainly aren’t visible to the general public. And they’re “easy” to stomp deep down inside while you try to forget about them. But they have a way of rearing their ugly beads.

Take, for example, a simple delay in getting started at a new job. The hiring process may have been rushed and paperwork is now being gone through with a fine tooth comb, and there may not actually be anything wrong – the powers-that-be are just making sure things are done properly. But in the mind of someone with PTSD, there’s clearly something wrong. Somehow, the new employer must have found a reason why not to hire you, and they’re just trying to find a nice way to tell you. They’ve realized you’re an imposter and you aren’t really cut out for the job. Deep down you know that they probably couldn’t find someone MORE qualified than you, but the “deep down” voice isn’t bold enough to speak right now – that voice has been quashed so many times it doesn’t even know if its voice works anymore.

So you start going over and over in your head everything you may have done or said wrong. Did you email too many times? Did you ask too many questions? That’s definitely it – that last question really made you look dumb. No, it had to be asked. Maybe there was an error in one of the transcripts and it looks like your education wasn’t complete. Maybe someone sabotaged the hire. But who would do that? Who knows, but you’ve pissed a few people off along the way…

I know, you’re surprised I’ve pissed a few people off. I’m so docile…

So I lay here in my bed in the middle of the night wondering about everything rather than sleeping. That’s what PTSD feels like. It’s an anxiety attack waiting to happen. It sitting at that simmering point and just not quite getting to a boil. But you don’t sleep and you second-guess everything. And something will finally happen to make you realize you didn’t need to do all that worrying. But for now, the S part of PTSD holds control: Stress. Yay, fun…

Till death do us part?

What does that actually mean? “Till death do us part?” Physical death or death of the marriage?

When I told my ex-husband that I wanted a divorce, he seemed shocked. He later admitted he knew we had issues, but thought we had time to work on them “because we said vows”. So our marriage wasn’t going anywhere, in his mind. Umm, news flash – if you have issues, you need to deal with them. You can’t just ignore them “because you said vows”.

Every year when a new year comes along, people vow to make changes that they know they won’t keep. The difference with wedding vows is that when you make them, you actually intend to keep them. Unless you’re in Hollywood – I swear their marriages only last a few weeks on average anyway. Their “I do” means “I do right now”.

The thing about marriage vows is that both people need to uphold them. You can’t neglect your spouse and expect them to stay because you made vows. You can’t be emotionally abusive or emotionally absent and expect them to stay. You can’t keep them on eggshells and expect them to stay. Just like you can’t expect them to stay if you’re physically abusive, unfaithful, or otherwise overtly brushing off your vows.

Marriage is hard work. For both parties involved. No one else’s marriage or lack thereof can actually have an effect on your outcome – only the two people involved have that power. But let me tell you, you can only put up with so much before you can’t put up with anything else. Just like a sponge: it can soak up water to a point. There comes a time when it is saturated and can’t hold any more. That’s literally how it is with the end of a marriage sometimes. You deal with so much – until you can’t deal with one drop more.

My heart goes out to anyone making this tough decision. It’s not made lightly, no matter how “easy” it may look to outsiders. In a time of social media when we can make our lives look as perfect as we care to, we have no idea if anyone is truly struggling in their marriage – unless they tell us. Only the people in that house have any idea what’s really going on. And sometimes one person in the marriage turns a blind eye to what’s happening, because they don’t want to admit that things aren’t as perfect as they seem. They may see it as a sign of weakness to admit there are issues. Well, let me tell you, the weakness of the marriage will come to a breaking point if you don’t work on repairing it.

Just because you said vows doesn’t mean you need to be miserable now just to hold onto them. And don’t hold on for the kids – they need to see good role models. They need to see happy parents. If you’re going to hold on to any vows, hold on to the ones you make to yourself – vow to love yourself and not blame yourself if things don’t go as planned. Vow to respect yourself and your children enough to set good examples. Vow to not be miserable for the sake of someone else. No one else’s opinions matter, anyway.

Finding motivation

Do you ever just feel like sitting on the couch with a bottle of wine (yes, I said bottle) and a straw and a comfy blanket and just saying eff it?

Yeah, me either 🤷‍♀️

Adulting is hard. Mom-ing is hard. Parenting is hard. Living is hard some days.

Some days I yearn for the innocence of my youth. Those days were so much simpler. My parents worked and supported our family. My sisters made me sit on the floor while they got to sit on the couch. I chased the dogs around our 40-acre property, over and under tree branches, through mud. I made families out of everything – and I mean EVERYTHING. Rocks, corn cobs, tendons off of deer legs when we processed the harvest at deer hunting time… you name it and I probably made a family with it.

In my adult life I’ve made families and they didn’t stick quite as well as my rock families did. I had enough practice, you’d think I could have gotten that right.

In my adult life I’ve struggled to pay bills, cried over lost friends, patients, family members, relationships. I’ve had highs and lows: insomnia, health issues, stress, success, happiness, high energy, low energy.

I’ve noticed that my own children don’t seem to have that same carefree youth that I had. We are always rushing about, they don’t get as much time to play and be kids, they don’t spend nearly enough time outside.

All my best laid plans to exercise regularly and be motivational to others get derailed by injuries, autoimmune flares, depression/anxiety, mom guilt, and the occasional night where I just want to eat a pint of ice cream, do nothing, and probably drink some wine. It doesn’t mean I get to do those things, but I WANT to.

I want to be motivated to wake up early and exercise like I used to. Exercise helps my mood and prevents a lot of my pain. But sometimes I’m in too much pain to exercise, and I’m just not in the mood. I got up and pushed play this morning. The first time in 2.5 weeks. I could stress about how long it’s been. But I won’t. I have enough stress already. I’ll just pray that I can get up and do it again in the morning. Because motivation doesn’t come BEFORE you start something, it comes after and because of doing things.

Riding the struggle bus

Oh man, oh man. To say I’ve been on the struggle bus lately is an understatement. My coping skills for life are being seriously tested, and the parent-teacher conference here would not go well.

As we neared the start of the school year, I watched meme after meme going up about moms ready for school to start so the kids would “get out of their hair” again. I wanted my kids “in my hair” more often. I watch my youngest child, especially, struggle with life and I just wish I could hold him longer and love him more. Maybe then he wouldn’t have so many troubles.

Maybe I was wrong for going to school so long and building up so much debt. Maybe I was wrong for wanting to be a mom who works outside the home so much. Maybe I should have done this or that, or not done this or that. Maybe it’s my fault he has behavioral problems. Maybe there’s nothing to do with me at all. I have no f&$@ing clue.

All I know is I wish i could help my child, but I haven’t a clue how. I love him. I cuddle him. I try to teach him boundaries and coping skills. I discipline him when he’s naughty. Then I love on him some more, because maybe that’s what he needs. We had him in behavior therapy, play therapy, and now with a regular therapist. He says all the right things when he’s with them, and he graduates out of programs because he gives a line of BS. In therapy right now, he can talk about all of these helpful techniques for dealing with frustration. But will he use these techniques at school? Of course not. But it sounded good in the therapist’s office.

So I sit here dumbfounded, unable to fall asleep, trying to mull over in my head what I can possibly do to help him. But tomorrow he goes to his dad’s for a couple days, and I won’t be able to help him at all. And it breaks my heart. My heart breaks daily for this guy. And so the stress continues. This stressed out mama just can’t catch a break.

I wish I had more insightful words to share today, but I guess that’s just how it goes sometimes. If nothing else, of you read these words and they sound familiar, maybe you’ll find some solace that you are not alone. Keep loving those Littles and trying to help them the best you can. Being a kid is hard. So is being a parent.

On being loved

I thought only dogs were capable of unconditional love. Then along came my little boys. There really is nothing quite like being a boy mom.

My boys have loved me since the day they left my uterus. All three of them. I guess that’s a typical right of being a mom to boys, but these guys of mine are something special. I just have to take a moment to brag and HOPE to GOD that I’m not the only one who experiences this.

A few weeks back, my little boys and I started doing a live video on Mondays called “Mondays with Mom” and we talk about whatever comes to their minds before we go live. Today was what love truly means to us. I was MAULED with kisses from my youngest, and I absolutely LOVED it. We had so many giggles!!

It’s an amazing honor to be someone’s favorite person. That gift of being their mom makes up for so many bad days. I’ll take the temper tantrums and kicks and misbehaving any day as long as I can get mauled with kisses and hugs and told “I love you more than anything” at random times during the day. Even my adult child ends phone calls with “love you mama”.

All that stress I have melts away when I get love from my boys. I don’t turn down hugs. Sometimes I ask for faces to be washed before I get smooches, but I still get the smooch in the end.

While I love my puppies, there’s just something about a boy who loves his mama ❤️