Speak Up & Stop Listening

Mem(e)oir Material, Posts

IMG_0690Today I had probably the most empowering and emotionally gratifying moment of my life and I’m pretty sure no one noticed. That’s actually the emotionally gratifying part, strangely. That I was able to actually see that the moments that hold the most weight and take up the most space in your heart should be shared with others but they don’t mean anything if they don’t primarily occur within your own self. More importantly, I was able to see those moments finally happen in me.

When I saw a glimpse of my old self today for the first time in about 7 years I regained the little bit of hope that I’d lost believing I’d ever see me again. That me is the one who has driven me to literally hundreds of late night ‘google research’ sessions – 6 different doctors, 3 false diagnoses, 2 surgical procedures (that it turns out I may not have actually needed) and about 5,000 eye rolls from people who thought I was crazy, lazy or just a big baby ☺️👼

It turns out there was one thing standing between me and the answer and that, my friends, was everybody else – whose judgements slowly started to make me doubt

a) things would ever change and

b) that I wasn’t just a whiny person who was just too tired and weak to be the person I ever was before

So – I stopped talking. I started to listen to me – that’s exactly who eventually ended up finding the answer anyways (minus the co-pay, to boot). One central constantly growing and multiplying cause of about 16 different chronically relentless symptoms that vary from mild to debilitating and have prevented me from healing, growing and beginning the second life I so deserve.

So, it turns out that ‘google research’ paid off – it’s provided me with a specific way to get back to me and if it means giving up my wine & cheese (& gluten) for the next 6 months to a year then it means that it’s a challenge I am able to accept and overcome. Because every other challenge I’ve ever overcome has been assigned to me in some way – this one I asked for. It’d just be lame to give up now. After all, throughout this whole personal inventory via psychology.com, wikipedia and WebMD, I’ve learned things that have finally given me enough insight to finish my story. Because the only thing that was missing all along was my voice – “And I’ve been quiet for too long” 🗣🗣54570a26-7b5f-498d-bfc9-ca382b0abc9d-1

cleaniness is next to godliness


When people ask me why I insist on putting on a full face of makeup and a pair of sneakers even if, for example, I’m home-bound because my brain fog has become so debilitating that it’s begun to impair my ability to drive, I no longer attempt to explain myself. For one, if you’re asking me that question because you honestly don’t know the answer, then consider yourself lucky. Obviously, you have never struggled to find a way to conceal your cath bag under a pair of old baggy sweatpants or spent 15 minutes on the toilet in the dark using a YouTube guided meditation in order to allow yourself to relax long enough to pee.

When I look better, I feel better. Period. There’s no surprise that my Ulta card has seen more action since I’ve gotten sick than ever before or that I’ve gone through so many different under-eye concealers that I’ve narrowed it down to the one that actually works well enough to give the appearance of entire night’s sleep (Boo-Boo Cover Up Concealer, $20.00 http://www.booboocoverup.com).

Lately I’ve taken to organizing the fuck out of my apartment. Maybe its because my mom took the keys to my Jetta and all I do is stare at are these four walls all day everyday. Also I recently read that clutter lends to negative or stagnant energy and after my life as I knew it just recently came to a standstill I’m  not sure which is worse. As long as I’m moving one way or the other, I’m ok. Being stuck in the middle is not fun. And I figure at least I deserve to have one corner of this cozy little box looking like a page straight out of ‘The Paper Source’ catalog. After all, just because my brain is disorganized, it doesn’t mean my stuff has to be.