This was a phrase that was used some time ago on a different site. Can't really remember who or where, but it's fitting. I've found that not many people know what Fibro is. (Fibro's my affectionate pet name for Fibromyalgia.)
What is Fibromyalgia?
It's a condition characterized by body-wide long term pain. You have tender points in your muscles, joints, tendons, etc. It's also linked to anxiety, depression, sleep problems, stiffness, and fatigue.
Now, those who've known me before college KNOW that I am a Drama Queen. I am, it's true. And I think that has contributed greatly to people not taking me seriously. But things really have changed for me since leaving home. I suppose I've withdrawn from the outside world. I used to be so proud of the strength that I possessed. I was a monster! I could fight anyone and anything. I knew no fear. I miss that Whitney. I wonder where she is when I need her.. Like now. As a child I associated a cut, any odd lump, or even a strange bruise of unknown origin with death. I would worry about whether it was cancer or some awful infection that would take my life. But I can't ever really remember exaggerating pain. Now that doesn't mean I didn't. I remember once when I was five years old, I was playing with Tiffany (my older sister) and her beloved Barbies. She had ALL the latest accessories, including a Barbie baby bottle and a roller skate. As a tomboy I have NO idea why she let me around those things, but she did. I wasn't playing with Ken and Barbie and telling so mushy gushy kid story, nope! Not me! I was playing with the bottle and skate, sticking the bottle into the skate. And then it got stuck. (Reminder both were small and plastic, so yeah.) Tiffany, to say the least, was infuriated. Her seven-year-old sassy self to me "I don't care what you do, but you better get that thing out of there!" Poor little five year old me, what was I to do. Well, I did what any self-sufficient strong-willed kid would do. I went to the kitchen and somehow got my hands on a knife. Looking back I see a huge glinting knife, but I was small, so that fact cannot be proven. I stuck the knife into the skate and began to pry the bottle loose. It was coming loose, slowly. I was began to smell my redemption so I pried a little harder, shoving the knife deeper. And like any good knife would, it sliced through the plastic, and into my waiting hand below. All hell broke loose for little old me. I just KNEW I was going to die. I was screaming and begging my parents to get me to the hospital quickly. Looking back to this day, I remember really feeling as if my death were imminent. So I know I wasn't faking. I believed it. I cried through bath time, I cried at bed time. And that's all I remember. But I'm still here, so I reckon I survived it. To be honest, I don't even recall a drop of blood. (Just an example of how dramatic I was)
But since that time a lot had changed about me. I KNOW for a fact that I have a high pain tolerance. Incredibly high. I can withstand the yanking of my hair, I can take the punch of many and not falter. I am strong, and take pride in that. Even growing up, I told my mother of growing pains, but only because I thought they hinted to an underlying deadly illness. Today, it takes a TON of pain for me to admit it. I'm not proud to admit that I'm often in pain. Sometimes I avoid the limp to appease it just to hide the fact that it's there. I use often loosely, because something ALWAYS hurts, it's just a matter of how badly. Some days it's hardly there. And I hardly notice it, but others it takes all of my strength and more to get to the bathroom. There have even been days where I couldn't do that alone. Doctors always say "Walking helps it." Well people, I live on a college campus and walk almost everywhere. Even getting to my car is a long walk! Walking hasn't appeased my pain. I think it's fueled it. I have been doing research, and see now that there are others like me! It makes me feel like I'm not making up this great amount of pain. Like I'm validated in wanting help. I've found some who use wheelchairs, some scooters, some walkers or canes; but only on their worst days of for mall trips or to places like Disneyland and stuff. I read the story of a girl who was in so much pain she just quit walking. I've wanted to do that SO many times.. But the ridicule I'd face from my family and peers has forced me to suffer through some pretty terrible pain.
I've used a wheelchair in Target, and when I couldn't handle the airport alone for the pain I asked for a wheelchair escort. I was so humiliated that I fought tears the entire time. I didn't even tell my mom. Can you blame me? At the time it seemed that no one understood my pain. But I know I'm not alone. And I'm not giving up, see I'm going to keep walking on the days that I can. But I won't be bedridden, and I'm tired of pushing myself so hard that I end up having to take multiple naps a day just to recover. I'm going to find something to help. Even if I have to get a job and pay for it out of my own pocket. I shouldn't have to be ashamed to utilize something that makes my life a little easier. I'm so tired of hiding everything.
Signing out,
a hurting Whitney and a restless Austin
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
"That's the good thing about memory loss!"
That was a quote my mother said to me yesterday. And at the time, it was GREAT! (It meant I'd forgotten everything I'd seen in the Eclipse movie. I KNEW it was going to come back to haunt me, but I had no idea how bad it could be.
See, I don't get a choice in the whole memory loss thing. I can't control the things I remember and the things I forget. Even growing up I had a TERRIBLE memory. I was easily distracted, and all it took was one second for me to forget a chore that had just been assigned to me. But add the mental illness component and the drugs taken to treat it, and BAM! You've got yourself a recipe for disaster. Often enough, this recipe plays out in methods that even I could not suspect. Like today, all I've had to eat was a hot pocket around 11:30. It's been twelve hours since and the only thing I've consumed was a White Chocolate Mocha with a shot of caramel. And on an empty stomach, I was rolling in pain. I'm stubborn, though. And daily I submit to the pain from fibromyalgia. Whether it's stopping every few minutes when walking or even admitting when the pain is too intense. These aren't things I enjoy doing, but things that I must. To be perfectly honest, there have days when I've used a wheelchair in Target or Walmart, and even a day when the airport was too much to handle alone, so I used a wheelchair and an escort. These are things I haven't admitted to my family. My mother doesn't my pain very seriously, to be honest. And my doctor laughed in my face. So I wanted to face down this stomach pain, but I couldn't. Ah well, I had my bf pick me up food. Now the pains much better, thank the Lord. But forgetting to eat isn't rare, not at all for me. Neither is forgetting things like homework and on the worst of days to feed my dog (now I keep food in his bowl just in case).
Don't get me wrong, there are perks to this situation, too. I can usually forget something that makes me upset within five minutes time, if properly distracted. It allows me to forgive much easier. I can forget past events and people, like they never even existed. I sort of enjoy that one. Others not so much.
I realize now that the Fibromyalgia situation needs its own space, perhaps tomorrow for that one.
Signing out,
an appeased Whitney and a snoozing Austin
See, I don't get a choice in the whole memory loss thing. I can't control the things I remember and the things I forget. Even growing up I had a TERRIBLE memory. I was easily distracted, and all it took was one second for me to forget a chore that had just been assigned to me. But add the mental illness component and the drugs taken to treat it, and BAM! You've got yourself a recipe for disaster. Often enough, this recipe plays out in methods that even I could not suspect. Like today, all I've had to eat was a hot pocket around 11:30. It's been twelve hours since and the only thing I've consumed was a White Chocolate Mocha with a shot of caramel. And on an empty stomach, I was rolling in pain. I'm stubborn, though. And daily I submit to the pain from fibromyalgia. Whether it's stopping every few minutes when walking or even admitting when the pain is too intense. These aren't things I enjoy doing, but things that I must. To be perfectly honest, there have days when I've used a wheelchair in Target or Walmart, and even a day when the airport was too much to handle alone, so I used a wheelchair and an escort. These are things I haven't admitted to my family. My mother doesn't my pain very seriously, to be honest. And my doctor laughed in my face. So I wanted to face down this stomach pain, but I couldn't. Ah well, I had my bf pick me up food. Now the pains much better, thank the Lord. But forgetting to eat isn't rare, not at all for me. Neither is forgetting things like homework and on the worst of days to feed my dog (now I keep food in his bowl just in case).
Don't get me wrong, there are perks to this situation, too. I can usually forget something that makes me upset within five minutes time, if properly distracted. It allows me to forgive much easier. I can forget past events and people, like they never even existed. I sort of enjoy that one. Others not so much.
I realize now that the Fibromyalgia situation needs its own space, perhaps tomorrow for that one.
Signing out,
an appeased Whitney and a snoozing Austin
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Give 'em Something to Blog about
I almost had nothing to blog about today, hence the title. But close to Midnight a slight.. Altercation occurred with someone I hold more dear to me than I would've ever expected... Let's just say he's like a brother to me. We'll call him... Clario. Clario witnessed some really crazy stuff happened to me, and it was a while before I realized that he was even there. Clario witnessed an.. Abuse of sort and I realized that when I needed him, when I was too weak to fight back he didn't stop the abuse that occurred. And once I realized it, and found it his reason I was really hurt. I mean if I had the power to stop something like that from occurring I would, and I do it all the time everyday. His reasons were understandable, but still very selfish. His inaction caused me more pain that I really could have ever realized at the time. But all he had to say was sorry. Normally I'm very forgiving, you know? But I had a really hard time forgiving this time. I think I was just pushed to the brink with all the hurting that seems to have been happening to me.
When I realized that I had hurt him by confronting him I instantly forgave him. Who wouldn't? My intentions were never to hurt. I just needed answers, but of course I didn't really get them. But the night worsened when I realized that he had shut down. I tried to get him to open up to me and talk but instead he yelled. Now, when you're dealing with people with mental illness (MI) they have things that trigger them. They can be as simple as a scent to as complicated as a chain of thoughts. Well yelling triggers me, along with being cornered and touched by those who don't have permission. So I could feel an episode coming so I said a prayer to calm down. (My Aunt taught me that!!) But I still lashed out pretty bad. Things began to crescendo and then BOOM. We were fighting. I don't think I've cried like that because of a person in a while. It didn't go well, but God separated us (the internet cut out) before any permanent damage could happen. I had a hard time sleeping with things the way they were, but stuff happens.
It really is my fault, sometimes you have to learn to rescue yourself. I've been doing it for so long now it's almost like I need someone else to do it to take a break. I shouldn't depend on others, but at times I have to. Things aren't easy for me right now, but whoever said they would be?
Even though things happened, I still love him. I love him very much, he's my rock, my protector, and more. And if he's reading this, I love you.
Signing out,
Whitney and Austin
When I realized that I had hurt him by confronting him I instantly forgave him. Who wouldn't? My intentions were never to hurt. I just needed answers, but of course I didn't really get them. But the night worsened when I realized that he had shut down. I tried to get him to open up to me and talk but instead he yelled. Now, when you're dealing with people with mental illness (MI) they have things that trigger them. They can be as simple as a scent to as complicated as a chain of thoughts. Well yelling triggers me, along with being cornered and touched by those who don't have permission. So I could feel an episode coming so I said a prayer to calm down. (My Aunt taught me that!!) But I still lashed out pretty bad. Things began to crescendo and then BOOM. We were fighting. I don't think I've cried like that because of a person in a while. It didn't go well, but God separated us (the internet cut out) before any permanent damage could happen. I had a hard time sleeping with things the way they were, but stuff happens.
It really is my fault, sometimes you have to learn to rescue yourself. I've been doing it for so long now it's almost like I need someone else to do it to take a break. I shouldn't depend on others, but at times I have to. Things aren't easy for me right now, but whoever said they would be?
Even though things happened, I still love him. I love him very much, he's my rock, my protector, and more. And if he's reading this, I love you.
Signing out,
Whitney and Austin
Thursday, December 2, 2010
A Bit of Bad News.
So, all my medicine changes have really been wreaking havoc in my life. And last night I received a letter stating that I had been called to speak with the Office of Student Conduct. The letter stated that I had violated the code for both disorderly and lewd conduct. But let me get back to the very beginning.
It started on September 14, a lovely day, as it was my distant friends birthday. (Yes April, I remembered your birthday after all these years.) Ok, I don't really know whether or not it was a lovely day, but for the sake of my sanity, let's just say it was (I've the memory of a fruit fly) even though it probably wasn't; during those days there were more bad days than good. And so, the day proceeded. And at night time, I slipped into a minor psychotic episode (they're called minor because I recover fairly quickly). I live on the 3rd floor in my dorm, and my room is located next to the stairwell. You'd think I wouldn't hear stomping ABOVE me, but I do. And of course the noise of students bounding up the stairs. That night, it triggered me, and I started to feel like I was being hunted.. Like a man was coming for me. (I used to have hallucinations about a "shadow man.") So as I slowly began to become more and more anxious and paranoid, I began thrashing and screaming. Once my boyfriend calmed me down it seemed another student would slam a door or stomp up the stairs, and the process would start again. Living in a dorm makes that whole thing rather.. Disturbing. My RA came and so did the Hall Director. Eventually I was able to calm down and return to my room feeling secure. I thought it was over, but a report had been filed concerning my "disorderly conduct."
The next event occurred after I was changed to Ambien to assist with sleeping, I had also been removed from an anti-psychotic drug. This is all being told from another perspective as I don't remember very much of it. My RA says she left her room because she heard a scratching on her wall, and when she stepped outside I was there in only a robe and underpants. The robe was open and I seemed heavily medicated as I was trying to use the phone. She led me back to my room and three minutes later I returned to hers saying that the room didn't belong to me. She assured me it did and back I went. Many hours later, I woke up outside in the same attire (with no shoes) and realized Austin and I were very lost. I now know I was on campus by the Student Center, not far from my dorm. It was freezing cold and at the time I just had no idea how to return to my dorm. I pushed the Emergency Button and informed the nice lady that I was lost. An officer came and together we attempted to figure out where I lived. I sat in his car (it was warm) as we called every family member we could. After perhaps half-an-hour we located my grandmother who called my sister who called my aunt who woke my parents. Then my address was identified and I was driven back to my dorm. The police called the HD and some head guy and they forced me to stay downstairs. The complaint I read said I slipped between states of lucid and childlike behavior. After what seemed like an hour I was taken to my room and the HD stayed in the lobby for many hours. This was another "disorderly conduct" complaint and also where the "lewd conduct" complaint came from.
As one might imagine, it is very frustrating to receive complaints for things that are not in your control. I expected to be called for my boyfriend sleeping in my room with me, granted it was only to make me feel safe, but that was a choice I made. I had a choice in that matter. But I didn't choose to have episodes, nor did I choose this next frightening event.
I am very modest, and I could never walk outside like that out of choice. Well I had the meeting this morning, and after some very extreme prayer for God to curb my tongue and order my thoughts, I began to calm down. I also read some scriptures on peace. I walked into the office feeling extremely calm. The man... Let's call him Dr. F. Fry, was very kind. He listened to me and reasoned with me, and told me he understands my situation. After we got things worked out (for the lewd conduct I received a warning).
Before leaving he told me that my resilience inspires him, and that he enjoys meeting people like me. Hearing that made me want to fight a billion times harder to fight the demons that have been affecting me. So, if you ever had any doubts let me clear things up for you here and now.
I will win this war.
Signing out,
Whitney and Austin
Edited to add: God really can turn a bad situation into a good one. Dr. F. Fry definitely impacted my life and strengthened my will to fight.
It started on September 14, a lovely day, as it was my distant friends birthday. (Yes April, I remembered your birthday after all these years.) Ok, I don't really know whether or not it was a lovely day, but for the sake of my sanity, let's just say it was (I've the memory of a fruit fly) even though it probably wasn't; during those days there were more bad days than good. And so, the day proceeded. And at night time, I slipped into a minor psychotic episode (they're called minor because I recover fairly quickly). I live on the 3rd floor in my dorm, and my room is located next to the stairwell. You'd think I wouldn't hear stomping ABOVE me, but I do. And of course the noise of students bounding up the stairs. That night, it triggered me, and I started to feel like I was being hunted.. Like a man was coming for me. (I used to have hallucinations about a "shadow man.") So as I slowly began to become more and more anxious and paranoid, I began thrashing and screaming. Once my boyfriend calmed me down it seemed another student would slam a door or stomp up the stairs, and the process would start again. Living in a dorm makes that whole thing rather.. Disturbing. My RA came and so did the Hall Director. Eventually I was able to calm down and return to my room feeling secure. I thought it was over, but a report had been filed concerning my "disorderly conduct."
The next event occurred after I was changed to Ambien to assist with sleeping, I had also been removed from an anti-psychotic drug. This is all being told from another perspective as I don't remember very much of it. My RA says she left her room because she heard a scratching on her wall, and when she stepped outside I was there in only a robe and underpants. The robe was open and I seemed heavily medicated as I was trying to use the phone. She led me back to my room and three minutes later I returned to hers saying that the room didn't belong to me. She assured me it did and back I went. Many hours later, I woke up outside in the same attire (with no shoes) and realized Austin and I were very lost. I now know I was on campus by the Student Center, not far from my dorm. It was freezing cold and at the time I just had no idea how to return to my dorm. I pushed the Emergency Button and informed the nice lady that I was lost. An officer came and together we attempted to figure out where I lived. I sat in his car (it was warm) as we called every family member we could. After perhaps half-an-hour we located my grandmother who called my sister who called my aunt who woke my parents. Then my address was identified and I was driven back to my dorm. The police called the HD and some head guy and they forced me to stay downstairs. The complaint I read said I slipped between states of lucid and childlike behavior. After what seemed like an hour I was taken to my room and the HD stayed in the lobby for many hours. This was another "disorderly conduct" complaint and also where the "lewd conduct" complaint came from.
As one might imagine, it is very frustrating to receive complaints for things that are not in your control. I expected to be called for my boyfriend sleeping in my room with me, granted it was only to make me feel safe, but that was a choice I made. I had a choice in that matter. But I didn't choose to have episodes, nor did I choose this next frightening event.
I am very modest, and I could never walk outside like that out of choice. Well I had the meeting this morning, and after some very extreme prayer for God to curb my tongue and order my thoughts, I began to calm down. I also read some scriptures on peace. I walked into the office feeling extremely calm. The man... Let's call him Dr. F. Fry, was very kind. He listened to me and reasoned with me, and told me he understands my situation. After we got things worked out (for the lewd conduct I received a warning).
Before leaving he told me that my resilience inspires him, and that he enjoys meeting people like me. Hearing that made me want to fight a billion times harder to fight the demons that have been affecting me. So, if you ever had any doubts let me clear things up for you here and now.
I will win this war.
Signing out,
Whitney and Austin
Edited to add: God really can turn a bad situation into a good one. Dr. F. Fry definitely impacted my life and strengthened my will to fight.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Making mistakes
As I said in my first post, I have a psychiatric service dog named Austin. He's a real cutie. I'm on a neat listserv and all of the people often said "I'd never go anywhere my dog wasn't welcome." So I took it to heart. Austin is like an extension of me. He sees parts of me that I don't have to talk about. I love him to death.
On Black Friday, we went shopping and had a wonderful time. That night the Auburn-Alabama game was going on and we were invited to watch it at the home of a family friend. But because she had family she just didn't think bringing Austin was a good idea. I sort of saw it coming, but hearing it hurt me really badly. Ever since my family moved to Hawaii, it's hard to feel welcome anywhere. I've always stood out, but I guess things just became more difficult without my family by my side. So I lashed out and made a facebook post (real mature, right?) It said that I would never ever go anywhere my service dog wasn't welcome even if a death occurred and blah blah blah. I'm not big on swearing, but I was a complete and total bad word. Lots of them actually. See, the problem is is that I LOVE that woman. She has really been an inspiration in a lot of the things I've went through. She is strong and real and so doggone funny. She has a beautiful family and that woman can SHOP! I think she'd donate a kidney for me if she had one to spare. And what did I do, I insulted her and didn't think it through.
I guess the important thing comes from being able to realize your mistakes and admit that you are wrong. Now I can only hope I'm forgiven. Learn from my mistakes... And know that you can't take words back.
On Black Friday, we went shopping and had a wonderful time. That night the Auburn-Alabama game was going on and we were invited to watch it at the home of a family friend. But because she had family she just didn't think bringing Austin was a good idea. I sort of saw it coming, but hearing it hurt me really badly. Ever since my family moved to Hawaii, it's hard to feel welcome anywhere. I've always stood out, but I guess things just became more difficult without my family by my side. So I lashed out and made a facebook post (real mature, right?) It said that I would never ever go anywhere my service dog wasn't welcome even if a death occurred and blah blah blah. I'm not big on swearing, but I was a complete and total bad word. Lots of them actually. See, the problem is is that I LOVE that woman. She has really been an inspiration in a lot of the things I've went through. She is strong and real and so doggone funny. She has a beautiful family and that woman can SHOP! I think she'd donate a kidney for me if she had one to spare. And what did I do, I insulted her and didn't think it through.
I guess the important thing comes from being able to realize your mistakes and admit that you are wrong. Now I can only hope I'm forgiven. Learn from my mistakes... And know that you can't take words back.
Monday, November 29, 2010
Getting to know me
I'd like to start out with some information about me! My name's Whitney and I'm 19. My stories here is all about me making it through my life with mental illness! I utilize a psychiatric service dog named Austin, and he's amazing. He's a 12 pound Maltipoo, but big things come in small packages. Don't worry, it's not going to be all depressing! But it is probably going to be real as hell, and if you can't hang than you may not want to climb the monkey bars. I think this is all for now.. My super short attention span makes it rather difficult and this took me a rather long time.
Whitney & Austin
Whitney & Austin
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