{"id":3827,"date":"2015-04-04T04:04:01","date_gmt":"2015-04-04T08:04:01","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/?p=3827"},"modified":"2018-12-11T22:47:44","modified_gmt":"2018-12-12T03:47:44","slug":"2015-d-is-for","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/dsavannah.com\/blog\/index.php\/2015-d-is-for\/","title":{"rendered":"D is for…"},"content":{"rendered":"

…Damaged<\/strong><\/h1>\n

\"D\"It’s 3am and I’m lying on the floor in my studio, legs and arms splayed out, and I’m crying.<\/p>\n

I’m crying because I hurt so much I can’t sleep.<\/p>\n

I’m crying because I’m exhausted.<\/p>\n

I’m crying because I’m damaged<\/strong>.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

In looking at my pictures (because of course I wouldn’t post a bad<\/em> one, would I?) or looking at me in person, you’d probably never know there’s anything wrong with me. A cursory glance shows a medium-height, thin girl with dark hair and bright green eyes. You might think I’m a little tired, but that’s it.<\/p>\n

But of course, that’s not just<\/strong><\/em> it.<\/p>\n

For one, as I’ve mentioned, I hurt. I always<\/em> hurt. Always. My joints, my muscles, every bit of me. Some parts of me hurt more than others: for the past month or so, despite the ministrations of my chiropractor, the taking of OTC and prescription pain meds, the application of both ice and heating pads, and massages from my loving hubs, my lower back has given me continual, severe pain.<\/p>\n

I can’t move without my joints sounding like exploding firecrackers.<\/p>\n

Sometimes, I hurt so bad I walk with a limp. For no reason. A well-intentioned worker at Target recently told me I should use one of their rolling carts, but I refuse. As long as I can walk, even if it hurts and tires me and makes me limp, I’m gonna walk.<\/p>\n

And I’m always tired. Part of it is the chronic (and currently super-bad) insomnia (which I’ve had since high school), and part of it is, well, I have no idea. Even when I sleep well, I feel tired.<\/p>\n

Then there are my other fun symptoms: migraines, one or two a month, where light and noise send roofing nails into my head, and sometimes cause nausea. Occasional tingling in my wrists, fingers, and lips. Occasional cold fingers for no reason. A lupus-like rash on my face. A weird itchy rash on my elbows. And, oh yeah, the inability to grip well.<\/p>\n

I was in a fast-food restaurant the other day, and the cashier asked if I wanted a small, medium, or large drink. I said medium. But the cup was huge<\/em>, and I said “never mind, I’ll float away. I’ll take a small.” The girl laughed and said, “yeah, it’s because we’re little”… but the truth is neither of those. Although I do have a small bladder (thanks, Mom!), I have trouble gripping and holding onto things. I would probably have filled that cup and dropped it straight away.<\/p>\n

Besides my physical symptoms, there’s the mental<\/strong> ones. The ones that make me feel crazy. The ones that see me crying in the middle of the night when the rest of the world is asleep.<\/p>\n

I suffer from depression, and have my entire life, but didn’t get treatment for it until I had a three-day breakdown and couldn’t get out of bed and probably would have killed myself but I just didn’t have the energy. When I was 32. Until then I’d been told I didn’t need therapy. By someone I trusted, but someone who ultimately was wrong, and thus inadvertently added to the abuse I’d experienced in my life.<\/p>\n

As if that wasn’t enough, I have anxiety. I have mild OCD. I have panic attacks. Crazy, amazingly vivid nightmares. Some social anxiety. I also have PTSD from the things I went through as a child. An abusive childhood, thanks to a bi-polar father who had also been abused as a child, then got even more messed up when he went to war during the Vietnam era.<\/p>\n

I’ll be on anti-depressant meds for the rest of my born days. On the one hand, I’m thankful for the medication, because I’m certain I’d be dead without them, but on the other: sometimes they stop working. Like now. In addition to the physical issues I’m experiencing, I’m fighting a horrible bout of depression. And I have no idea which is the case: am I more depressed because of the pain I’m suffering? Am I more depressed because I had to quit teaching because of my health issues and thus lost my income and a huge part of my identity and motivation? Or am I more depressed because my meds are failing and it’s time to change again?<\/p>\n

And then I’m made to feel even more stupid and crazy and depressed when well-meaning people suggest things that I could do that will supposedly cure what ails me. Things that of course! of f*ing course!<\/em> I’ve tried, but that don’t do a damn thing to help me. (As I told a recent, erm, suggester… I’ve pretty much tried everything except virgin sacrifices.)<\/p>\n

And the best part of all this? I can’t seem to get a doctor to believe me, believe that there’s something wrong with me. My labs all come back fine, and I’m summarily dismissed. I’m told I’m “too young”. I’m made to feel even more stupid and depressed when the doctors declare me perfectly healthy.<\/p>\n

Even tho I’m not. I’m clearly not. I’m damaged, dammit.<\/p>\n

***<\/p>\n

I can keep lying on this floor, and I can keep crying, or I can get up.<\/p>\n

I get up, and I open my computer, and I write this blog post. And now it’s 4am. And I’m gonna publish it before I chicken out about telling everyone all this extremely personal information about myself.<\/p>\n

I may be damaged, and I may be tired of living like this, but I won’t give up. And I want others in my situation to know they are not<\/strong> alone.<\/p>\n

And Monday, I go to a new doctor. One who I pray will actually listen, and keep listening, and help me find a way to live with my beautiful, damaged, perfect, wonderful, f*ed up self.<\/p>\n

\n

On a lighter note: I have to admit that I did a terrible thing yesterday: I was remiss in mentioning avid reader (and sharer) Paul Feeney<\/a> for his excellent suggestion to write about Chocolate<\/b><\/span> for C, but sadly I forgot the suggestion and didn’t even mention Paul. Even tho I’m a HUGE<\/del> massive<\/del> happy chocoholic. Forgive me, Paul? Chocolate sprinkles on top?<\/p>\n

And here are Brandi’s ideas for “D” (sorry, for not using one of them this time, tho Discworld will show up under “G”): “Discworld. Dedication. Decisions. Druids. Dragons. Dragonflies. Daisies. Dependable. Dogs. Drizzle. Dazzle. Damn. Denmark.”<\/p>\n

Note for those of you stopping by from the #AtoZChallenge who are using Blogspot as your platform – I am<\/em> popping by your blogs and taking a bit of a wander, but unfortunately, Blogspot hates<\/em> me, which means for some unknown, weird reason, I cannot comment on your blogs. But they’re all wonderful! Honest!<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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