Have You Ever?

Have you ever been told that you would never be able to do a particular job, task, or meet a goal? Was it because you were told you just weren't good enough? Was it because you were told that you were not smart enough to accomplish the goal? Were you told that it was because of your illness or were you told this because they knew you would end up doing the task better than them?

In Sixth grade math class at the private Catholic school I attended, I accidentally put too many 0's past the decimal place. My teacher marched me out of class down to the fourth grade math class, where she stood me in the front of class and proceeded to tell them I was stupid. Yes, that actually happened. To this day, math has been a struggle and everytime I get frustrated, I just think back to that time in math class when I was told I was stupid and I get mad. I want to get even. I want to prove to them that I am smart.

In eleventh grade English, I was told by the teacher, that I would never be a good writer, that I would never be good at English and that I should just stop now. Yes, this happened too and so once again I set out on another journey to prove them wrong. I went to college and graduated with a degree in English Literature. I wanted to wave that flag in her face like a proud six-year-old.

I started to do whatever people said. I did jobs with 150% vigor and worked multiple tasks to show that I can handle it, that I can do it no matter if two chronic illnesses were stamped on my forehead. I never said no. I always said yes to working any event, or being a volunteer in my community. I was not in just one community group, I was in three and on the board in one of them. I worked walks, political events, fed the hungry, raised money for cancer, diabetes, and did whatever was asked of me.

My problem is, I go to the extreme proving people wrong. I decided that one college degree was not good enough, so I got four. Sometimes when people ask me why I have so many, I am truthfully telling them that I love school and I love writing and why not get four degrees. But, there is this small place in me that after all these years, I can confess to and that is sometimes I do things because people tell me I can't do them.

I was able to pass a math class, with a good teacher and a tutor. I went to college and succeeded and I am now in Graduate school. I have two chronic illnesses and climbed a huge ass mountain. Day-after-day, I am reminded that there are some things I can't do no matter what and I get mad and there I go again trying to prove to people I can do what they say I can't.

This past week, certain things were said to me about things that I can't do, or were advised that I should not do and that they had no place to even say I can't do. I wanted to prove them wrong. I wanted to duel them right there, pull out my sword and fight to the death. But, I just listened and drew back my advancement for a fight. I knew that I would not win that battle.

After mulling over the conversation in my head a hundred times, I realized something profound, that I should have relaized a long time ago. Life is filled with obstacles and boundaries. They affect your personal life, your job and in our world as a whole and they will be an ever present reminder that we are human. Humans are not perfect, we make mistakes. We put too may 0's past the decimal place and we fight to feel we are worth something and not worthless. This is not wrong to think about.

Some people, like me suck at math. Some people can't climb mountains, some people with IBS or Fibromyalgia can't enjoy vacations, some people are insecure and that is ok. I will be ok. You will be ok. I have to look at each obstacle in life as a building block, a baby step toward something greater and I don't have to overcome those obstacles for a boss, a lover or even a friend. I have to overcome obstacles for ME and me only. I can't keep worrying that you will look at me and be mad that I did not do something you thought that I should know how to do, or something that I should already know how to do.

I will live each day for me, and not try to prove to you that I have to do it this way. If I can't do something, that's ok. I just can say no, I can't do that or no, I don't want to do that and that should be all I need to get through life's obstacles. I will stop trying to prove to people that I can do things. If you tell me I can't do something or I know I can't do something, that's ok.

Reality is realizing that no matter what, life happens and there is no need to go to the extreme to tell the world you can accomplish something. Today I was sick, my Fibromyalgia the culprit and I couldn't do a damn thing about it but sit lifeless on the bed or couch. I was not mad anymore. I realized this is my life and I no longer have to prove anything.

Sometimes you will not be able to pass the test, meet the goal or accomplish the task, no matter how much elbow grease you add to it. No one ever said life was easy. Do what you can, enjoy it and learn. I am learning not to not take things personally and if it can't be done, don't swell on it, just move on. Life is to short.

Fibromyalgia and Death

Fibromyalgia and IBS don't take holidays, breaks and don't care what's on your agenda. I have been in extreme physical pain from my chronic illness since November 9th when my best friend, Michelle was admitted to the hospital after collapsing. She had battled stage four lung cancer for over two years and the cancer was winning.

I sat motionless for six days in a hard, hospital chair on the sixth floor looking out on the world around me through autumnal trees and swirling leaves. I watched as my friend slowly faded before me and through it all I was in so much physical pain from my chronic illness that I did my best to shut it from my mind. I had to be strong for her, for her family and for her three year old son, Grayson. I had to set my illness aside, remove the pain from my mind and be there for my friend during her last days on this earth. I wanted my Fibromyalgia to take a holiday and it wouldn't, even to give me few days to be there for my friend.

I sat with her, held her hand, prayed, sung Amazing Grace and even painted her toenails while she lay motionless in extreme pain. I felt bad that she was laying there before me in the dim evening light in so much pain that she could not even speak but only softly moaned when her morphine was wearing off. I thought of all the times that I have cried and complained because I was in pain and hurting but my pain was nothing in comparison to what she was going through that very moment.

I could not and would not let it be known that to sit for six hours a night in this hard chair, my back was going numb and my feet tingling. Instead, I prayed and asked God to help her and not me. I wanted her to go peacefully to the place that we all dream of going to one day. I told her twenty four hours before she died, sitting beside her bed, that it was ok to go to Heaven now and that God was waiting for her and that when she got there, there would be no more pain and it would be glorious.

I saw what pain she went through the last two and a half years and I felt selfish for even complaining about my back hurting or the fact that I had to shit too many times a day. Here she was in private agony, fighting so hard to win a battle that eventually took over every part of her, her mind and her body, and the day she died, November 15, 2010 at 6:30am, I was ashamned that I felt relieved for her. I felt bad for thinking that I was glad that she was gone and with God, because I knew she would never have to feel pain again and this tiny part of me was jealous. I don't want to die, don't get me wrong, but waking up every day in pain is not only physically draining, but emotionally draining as well. The sadnessI fell now that she is gone is enormous, and it has made my chronic illness worse. I went for Acupuncture and that did not help. I went for a massage and that did not help.

It has been one week since we buried Michelle. Today is Thanksgiving, the day we should be thankful for health, friends and family and I can't help but think of her and I do smile knowing that she is no longer in pain but I miss her terribly and wish she had more time on this earth, with her husband, with her son, and to continue to be my best friend. Today I will be thankful for friends, family, health (even if I have IBS and Fibromyalgia), and most of all, I am thankful for my new guardian angel that I know is watching over me right now. For today, I can rest easy on a soft couch and think of her tonight. Happy Thanksgiving Michelle. May you find peace in Heaven next to God.

(Picture above is titled "Sacred Hour" by Christophe Vacher)

My Fantasy Toilet

I just found out that in Japan they have built a women's restroom that is surrounded by a salt water aquarium on three sides that has swimming fish and a turtle. It's a shitter's heaven. A sanctuary for people like me. And it's only for women. They did not build one for men.

This amazing bathroom is located at Mumin Papa Café in Akashi, Japan and was built in 2007. The owner of the cafe says it cost 30 Million Yen (approx. $270,000 at the time) to build, which is not in the budget of most restaurants. It’s filled with all sorts of exotic fish, including the “famous” male sea turtle that watching women to their business. Surprisingly, many women do not claim it impairs their duty or gives them stage fright. The surrounding aquarium was designed to mimic the feeling of relieving yourself while swimming in the ocean.

This makes me wonder why doctor's offices and people in America have not created one here. For people who suffer from IBS and visit bathrooms often, this type of bathroom would make me much more relaxed and not be so anxious when making multiple trips to the bathroom. I might actually look forward to going to the bathroom for a change. Now instead of reading magazines with stupid gossip or observing ceiling tiles, I can now mingle with the fishes and pretend I'm a mermaid and maybe instead of talking to myself, I'll talk to the turtle.




So if the bathroom cost $270,000 to build, I wonder how much the entrees in that restaurant cost.

Insomnia Cures

Did you know that 70 million Americans suffer from sleep disorders and at least 32 million of those people suffer from Insomnia? Insomnia is defined by Merriam-Webster's dictionary as "prolonged and usually abnormal inability to obtain adequate sleep." (circa 1623-www.merriamwebster.com)

I also researched Insomnia online and found out that out of people age 15-55, 20-40% encounter insomnia problems during a year time and 10 million people have to take medications for insomnia. I also learned that a person with insomnia only sleeps six hours of less daily and that Americans sleep 20% less than we did 100 years ago?
(www.sleepcottage.com/insomnia-stats/)

I think this last bit of information is totally true, because we have become a nation of technology with cell phones, computers, I-pads and video games. 100 years ago, people were too busy staking their land, building their houses, raising families, hunting for food and hanging the clothes on the line to dry. Children played outside in fresh air, swaying from fat, oak trees and when the day was done, they were so exhausted that they never had problems with sleep.

Our society now is so much more mentally challenged and we have so much shit floating around in our heads at night that we have to take a pill to shut off the receptors. It's like taking a "shut the hell up so I can sleep pill." I am one of those people. Doctors believe that Fibromyalgia is caused by receptors in the brain that tell your body (nerves) constantly that you're in pain and we have to take a pill so we can shut them up and get some much needed rest.

The top three countries with Insomnia sufferers are:
1. The United States (too many Starbucks is my reason why)
2. Germany (too much rich food and learning that language is enough to make me not sleep) and
3. The United Kingdom

I decided to poll all my friends to see how they pass the time when dealing with Insomnia.
I have listed the responses in order:
1. Read a book
2. Get on facebook
3. Watch television
4. Relaxation and/or meditation (on I-phone and/or cell phone)
5. Toss and turn
6. Listen to music and/or book on CD
7. Write
8. Listen to Dr. Weil Meditation program
9. Sort our problems in their head
10.Do a crossword puzzle
11.Eat ice cream and
12 Iron

So whether you're reading a book, listening to meditation, watching TV, or just tossing and turning, know that you're not alone and feel better knowing that at least 32 million other people are doing that same exact thing. This got me thinking that maybe I should plan a rave party and call it the Insomnia Rave and all my friends who find themselves up at 3am can come over to my rave and we can move to the beat and sweat out the insomnia. What a great party that would be!

Traveling with IBS

I've been thinking a lot lately about the hassles of traveling when one suffers from IBS. I think about this a lot during the summer because this is the glorious time for vacations, long rides in the car, trips to far-off destinations and long walks on the beach. I am reminded of a time just last year when a traveling trip went horribly wrong and IBS was the culprit. It's embarrassing to say the least, but maybe once you read about it, you can relate. So here is my humiliating tale of traveler's woe.

Last fall, my boyfriend got stuck without a ride in Myrtle Beach. I had just enjoyed a dinner of greasy food and a large iced tea and was gearing up for a night of watching movies and enjoying a nice evening alone, when the phone rang at 9pm.
Craig needed me to pick him up. Now mind you, Myrtle Beach was close to four hours away and not particularly something I wanted to do. I'm not sure why I didn't just make him take the bus (probably because that thought didn't cross my mind). I put on my comfy driving clothes, grabbed our dog for safety, put gas in the car, grabbed a roll of TP (just in case) and headed down the lonely stretch of country road toward the beach.

About forty-five minutes into my journey, just me and the dog, my stomach started rumbling and doing its usual flip-flop. I thought it was just nerves because I don't enjoy driving at night and I would be driving into bumfuck. If you saw some of the areas you have to go, visions of any scary movie would come to mind.

A few moments later the urge to vomit came over me and I had to lurch the car onto the side of the road and wretched for ten minutes while the dog looked at me in horror. Whatever greasy meal I had eaten was now out of me or so I thought. I pulled myself together and made it another thirty minutes into a tiny town where I threw up again this time in a park barely having enough time to open the car door. Next I threw up another thirty minutes down the way in a church parking lot. I was a hot mess and crying and I was already half-way to the beach, so there was no way I was leaving Craig without a ride. I had come this far, I just had to keep going. I started downing Pepto pills and praying that I would not throw up anymore. The dog I think was worried about me. he kept looking at me with funny looks.

Well after four Pepto pills and a few sips of coke, guess what happened? No, not puking this time, just imagine. It was already midnight and I was driving down a two lane road in the middle of freaking nowhere when the urge to go to the bathroom was so severe that I wasn't sure what I was going to do, so I once again lurched the car over to the shoulder of the road, turned the headlights off, pushed the dog in the back seat and jumped in the passenger seat, barely getting my butt out the car door before all hell broke loose. So as embarrassing as it is to be reminded actually happened to me, it's even more embarrassing that I'm actually telling you all about it right now.

Even though I was alone on a desolate stretch of wood with my ass hanging out the side of the door, an actual big truck was coming right this way. First I was scared he would see me with my ass hanging out the car door and then I was so scared he would think I needed help so I cleaned up as fast as I could and jumped out the car and headed over to the driver side to get back in and head to the beach.

Thinking that my night could get no worse, it did. I went to pull the door handle to get in my side of the car and it was locked. To make matters worse, the car was running with my cell phone and dog inside. How the hell did I manage to get myself into this predicament? Ahh, yes I remember now, I have freaking IBS and today it was beating the shit out of me, literally from all ends. I just broke down and cried in the middle of the freaking night with my dog pressing his face up to the window looking at me like I was in sane.

Then I began to think of all the horror movies that I had watched and I thought about all the jethro-looking men in trucks that would come kidnap me and all that would be left would be my running car, a barking dog and pile of shit next to it. Maybe the police would come and think that I had run away from the embarrassment alone. When he saw what had taken place he would have laughed at me, then I would be the laughing stock of Hicksville.

I looked up to the heaven and the stars, put my hands in the air and yelled REALLY! Then I prayed that there was a rock somewhere because I was not going to let IBS win this time. I would find a way to get in that car if I had to use my damn shoe to break the window. I walked over to the other side of the car avoiding you know what and HAIL MARY, the passenger door was not all the way shut, so I jumped for joy, jumped over my shit and jumped back in my car and cried even harder, I was just so happy to be back in my car. I had forgotten that I could still be kidnapped but I had hoped the stench of my shit would be both a killer and bear deterrent.

I started back on the road and one hour and thirty minutes later, I hugged my boyfriend and told him about my incredible story of what I had to go through and four hours after that, we finally made it back home. I was exhausted, and annoyed and so happy to be home. I told Craig if that ever happened again, he better learn to hitchhike, cause this ass ain't going to pick him up no matter what.
But Looking back on now, I really do believe that ship happens and you just have to learn to deal with it, the good, bad and the super ugly trips to hell and back.