The past month or so has been rather eventful. I finally felt like I was recovering a part of me that I had been missing. My goal of growing spiritually was evolving nicely. Feeling confident that I was on the right path, enjoying short outings to church and even a couple of life group meetings, and evaluating my personal goals and relationships by focusing on my book study, all added purpose to my days. I actually believed that I was on the path to regaining some self-worth and meaning in my life. Physically, my body was still symptomatic, even alongside my spiritual and emotional improvements. Symptoms still interfered and roared their ugly head, but at least I was traveling in a productive and appealing direction. UNTIL... my body decided to throw a complete, indescribably, irrational, and unforgettable nightmare my way. Without going into the specific details about my health experience leading up to and including the infection that resulted in an unexpected hospitalization, fears have clearly returned. I would think that it's only natural to rethink, overthink, and even become overprotective with the goal of preventing a repeat. However, I was not ready, and still not ready to accept, moving backwards. I was just gaining the confidence to take risks, as minimal as they may have been, to feel alive. Currently, that progress has disappeared. Everyone has me walking around on eggshells, including myself. Fears of repeat infections or overexertion are at the forefront. Concerns over being sick during the holidays, avoiding all the colds and illnesses that are so prevalent right now, and worries of what is yet to come regarding PORT replacement in the future, are all playing in overdrive. Now it's time for me to figure out how I will go about regaining the ground that this most recent health dilemma has stolen from me. But first, I must find the energy and patience within myself.
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Giving my all, trying to find peace and grace within myself, searching for a better sense of my identity, striving to portray myself authentically while being true to my desires for life. Giving my all, discovering ways to feel useful, pursuing ways to grow spiritually, using experiences to strengthen relationships, while hopefully providing comfort and support to others. Giving my all, seeking ways to physically feel better, scrutinizing possible reasons for recent deterioration, reaching out for medical help despite reservations, while attempting to trust all medical advice given. Giving my all, writhing from unexplanable relentless pain, shivering and shaking from unyielding chills, crying out for something, anything, to make it stop, while praying that answers and relief would soon come. Giving my all, soliciting answers for the cause of my symptoms, patiently suffering in agonizing pain, heaving and vomiting with head pounding, while no one seemed to have a solution. Giving my all, confiding health concerns with my primary, wishing he could offer much needed assistance, graciously accepting his opinions and suggestions, while struggling to keep myself together without complaining. Giving my all, requesting records and cultures from an ED visit, making every effort possible to get copies to my primary, venturing out to get my hand on the actual results, while frustrated over the ED's lack of concern. Giving my all, secretly hiding my fears from family, relying on my primary to finally find some relief, following his orders to visit yet another ED, while completely feeling drained and depleted. Giving my all, preparing best as possible for a hospital admission, talking with my respected and reliable confidant, gaining control of my emotions and angst, while knowing I was about to be under the care of unfamiliar doctors. Giving my all, surrendering myself to their needles and tactics, relinquishing control to them and their treatments, repeating my health story again and again, while gaining confidence that the worst was finally going to be over. Giving my all, appreciating the doctors and nurses willing to help, acknowledging the blessing my primary has been, recognizing the importance of reaching out for his support, while gladly welcoming an end to my bacteremia chaos. --------------------------- Not sure what I would have done if it had not been for my primary stepping in and guiding me in the right direction. I knew something was not right with my body, feared that it could be an infection in my PORT or bloodstream, but couldn't get any answers or relief. After three separate ED visits, all within a couple of days span, I felt like I must be going crazy. I started doubting how much longer I could handle or deal with these horrifying symptoms. However, my primary communicated with me, believed my agony, knew that I typically avoid emergency departments at all costs, agreed something was definitely going on, predicted it could possibly be a bacteremia infection, remained persistent on seeing actual culture results himself, discovered I had klebsiella pneumonea infection in my PORT and bloodstream from the most recent ED visit's cultures, informed and prepared his ED team of doctors for my arrival, and ultimately ended this tormenting experience. My PORT had to be removed, a PICC line placed, and IV antibiotics for days during my hospitalization, but, I was so thankful! The medical team that took care of me was great and a new sense of comfort was discovered. Now I am aware that I do indeed have a primary that I can depend on. Moral of this experience: Trust your body! You know yourself better than anyone else. You shouldn't be afraid to reach out to your doctors in times of need. If you are not improving, don't try to sit back and ignore. Listen to what your body is saying and take action. It can literally be the difference between life and death sometimes. Luckily, the infection I had was treatable and not resistant to antibiotics. If it had continued to go untreated, it would have likely increased in severity, leading to possible sepsis. Sepsis can lead to organ failure and even death. A reminder of just how important and essential it is to have a doctor that you can trust and communicate with. Having a doctor that's invested in what's in your best interests is a valuable asset never to be taken for granted.
Medication changes once again, in an attempt to improve nausea, insomnia, and abdominal pain. I am trying to remain patient, not expecting too much too soon. But, feeling like a numb zombie is not a feeling I want to remain. Halloween is over, I need only to be me. Waiting to see if the "GOOD" side effects, nausea control and restful sleep, are found. Praying the undesirable fatigue, irritability, and mental fog will soon dissipate. Maybe, it's the heart of an athlete and sports enthusiast within me. Maybe it's the idea of competition, teamwork, and give all you have mentality. Maybe it's a mysterious internal motivating factor. I don't know. What I do know is that living with chronic illness can be challenging in all facets of life.
In the chronic illness community, one often hears about the war that our bodies are fighting. Messages of how to remain strong, courageous, and brave as we fight each battle, some worse than others. You may be a "spoonie" or managing with an insignificant "battery", but you are a warrior. Things may be difficult or seem impossible, but if you keep fighting hard enough you can overcome. You just have to be strong and keep persevering. Or at least that's the way it sounds, right? Is that the impression that these comments are meant to give? The problem is, that while the above sounds positive and optomistic, it can also be perceived as damaging. When symptoms and illness have your health and spirit spiraling, even plummeting, I believe it's only natural to begin doubting your strength and reserves. Are the most challenging moments a result of not trying hard enough, are you too weak, not resilient enough? Are you hindered from improved health because you are too broken to be repaired, not significant enough, or simply just a failure? I know for a fact that that is NOT the case. We are all destined to move forward in life, all of us. Healthy or not, we will all eventually exhaust our time on Earth at one time or another. For those with chronic illness, some will learn to cope or deal with their illness and it's impact on their life better than others. Some will suffer more either physically, emotionally, or mentally. Some will masks their inner most feelings. Some will pretend or attempt to forget what they are dealing with. Others will try to overachieve with the goal of covering up or hiding the impact that illness has on their lives. My question is, does our outlook always have to be compared to a win/lose scenario? I know that some of the most beautiful-souls, faithful, caring, and determined people I know have already left our earthly home. It was not because they were weak or didn't try. It was not because they "lost" the war. For whatever reason, it was just their time. On the same notion, I am aware that some people give all that they can give and times just become too difficult for them to handle. Sadly, some have chosen to take their own lives in hopes of ending the suffering and pain that tormented them day after day. But was it because they were cowards or not strong enough? I don't think so. Instead, I think sometimes, regardless of whether it's accurate or not, people act in the moment out of desperation for a break from their reality, over possible guilt for burdening their loved ones, or loneliness from feeling isolated and withdrawn from society. Being sick all of the time can definitely weigh heavily on one's heart, soul, and perception of life. But, it does not mean that they were selfish or gave up. Is it possible that a different vantage point, an empathetic ear to talk to, a network of supportive loved ones and doctors, or clearer and more reasonable expectations (set by themselves or others) could help some remain hopeful during the most dreadful of days? The fact is no one knows exactly what someone else is going through. Hell, sometimes the person themselves don't even know. Being told to stay strong when someone is struggling, or to keep fighting while they're trying their absolute hardest, may help some hold on. It may give them a little encouragement. However, it may unintentionally hurt others, making them contemplate their own personal characteristics and how they measure up. (One just has to be mindful of how their comments may be interpreted.) I'm not gonna lie, my health and thoughts have taken me to some really dark and scary places. I have tried to remain strong, tried to be a faithful warrior, looked at health battles as either wins or losses. I have at times felt shameful, guilty, and weak. At those times, it was hard to look forward to the next day. It was difficult to comprehend how I could keep fighting so hard, with all I had in me. I saw myself as undeserving or inadequate. In some ways I felt like throwing in the towel or giving up, if for nothing else than to protect my family from being impacted or limited by my illness and continued shortcomings. At those moments, I could care less if I was being brave or strong. I felt feeble and powerless. I kept asking myself, what could I do to try harder or be stronger? How could I regain control of my body? What was I not doing well enough? Why was I failing at improving? Did I have to look at it from that angle, with the idea of constantly winning or losing a battle or war? Is it really an all or nothing situation? Is being brave or courageous in the eyes of others, going to remove fear or uncertainties? Does questioning your future health and worth, mean that you are a coward or quitter? I don't think that has to be the case, at least not in my present state of mind. The chaos of life is just that - LIFE! So if not a warrior fighting in a chronic illness war, then what is it? How can we explain this thing called life? How can we describe it or compare it to something similar that is not so cut and dry between two different ends of the spectrum? What can help ME accept the good and bad that comes with living day in and day out with illness? How can I view my life in a way that is inclusive for all of the wonderful and positive things in life, while also eliminating the severity of negativity during the most challenging times? In the past I have sometimes compared my health journey to a road trip or roller coaster, with all of the ups, downs, twist and turns. Full of laughter and thrills, but also uncertainties of what is yet to come. I have viewed myself as a crusader, striving for God's purpose, regardless of what trials I'm faced with. (Yes, I realize that crusaders fall into the "war-like" thinking, but not in my context.) I have also compared life to weather, with periods of storms followed by rainbows. While these metaphors can be useful, I just don't seem to think that they always do justice in describing the experiences I live. Road trips, roller coasters, and the weather all have something in common; They often underestimate the influence that events, other people, and prior experiences have on my life as a whole. They often remove the element of control that I have. A road trip may end at a designated destination, a roller coaster would drop me off in the exact same place that I began, and the weather, well it's just a continuous cycle without a desired outcome. I want to challenge myself to be able to view all of life's rewards while avoiding seeing the negatives and struggles as losses. Instead, my goal is to look at the tough times as events that help me gain new knowledge, experience, and growth. I want to be able to describe my health journey in way that respects everything and everyone that has already, is currently, and will eventually help me arrive at my ultimate destination - a mother striving for internal and spiritual growth with a meaningful purpose. I'm sure the majority of people with chronic illness, whether invisible or not, have faced the confusion of how to best answer the "how are you" question on a regular basis. Whether you are at home, work, hospital, store, etc this question is all too familiar. I know that most people ask out of habit, as it's natural to say these three words when greeting someone. Most people are accustomed to replying with an "okay", "fine", "good", or some other simple response. I am guilty of answering in that fashion often, especially around strangers that I don't know. However, like many, I am not always speaking the absolute truth, just trying to be polite.
It's easy when the person that you are speaking to is not familiar with you or your health and it's not imperative for them to know the truth, then quickly saying "fine" and moving on is alright. But what if it's a family member, friend, medical professional, colleague, or someone else that knows you personally? How do you answer the question then, especially on days when you really don't feel fine or when being falsely positive can be a hindrance in your care or best interests? Below are a few recent scenarios that have made answering the ordinary "how are you" complicated for me to answer.
As you can see the common question, "How are you?", can be complex to answer, with the normal "okay, fine, and good" answers carrying a variety of different meanings, sometimes accurate and sometimes just portraying what everyone, including me, wants to hear. Painsomnia Sucks! Once again, seems to be too often recently, I was awoken in the middle of the night with strong abdominal pain & intense nausea. The nausea was at extreme levels that made lying down or attempting to return to sleep impossible. Slowly, to avoid dizziness, I got up out of bed. Could I use the bathroom and reset my body to return to bed? No, the pain & nausea were relentless and I surely didn't want to wake my husband. So off I paced slowly to the kitchen. I had already consumed all of my normal medications prior to bedtime, including my 3rd does of my current antiemetic (Tigan). Not knowing what else to do, I scrambled to find a zofran to see if it would actually help. I then progressed to the couch & picked up my gallon sized ziplock bag, still there from the previous day, just in case I returned to heaving/retching once again.. I tried to slip into a slumber there on the couch, but after 10 minutes or so of agonizing discomfort, I moved to the floor. I attempted to escape my pain and nausea with calm relaxing floor stretches for a few minutes and then returned to the couch, still nauseated and crouched in pain. I literally felt as if my abdomen was going to be ripped into shreds. What the hell! What could be the cause of another night of painsomnia full of nausea? My next action, beginning to seem as if I am in a recurring state of motion, was to return my heating pad to the setting of “HI” and replace it on my abdomen once again as I stretched out in my recliner with a bag by my side, just in case the nausea evolved to more retching or vomiting. While everyone else (including my pets) peacefully slept as if nothing was wrong, I tried to breathe through the moments. Longing to find some relief, maybe an effective distraction, I tried to focus on what else I could try in the meantime. I mean who would want to sit by themself in the wee hours of the morning, in a dark quiet living room, with tears flooding their eyes as a result of the relentless nausea and unexpected gut wrenching pain? The heating pad, having to be checked often to ensure that it was on, is questionable in its’ effectiveness. I could tell that it was helping some, but no longer feel the heat that it provides. My abdomen has apparently become so accustomed to it being a regular accessory recently, that I have to touch my skin with my bare hand just to make sure that it is in fact hot. My next step, in an effort to reduce my symptoms, was to close my eyes and focus on my slow mindful breaths. There is no worrying, there is no panicking or anxiety , just slow breaths in and out to re-balance and allow my body to embrace and lessen the severity of my pain and nausea. What else can I do with my time? Is there anyway that I can be productive and use this time for something positive. Maybe check my email and delete some junk emails, sort some downloaded pictures, words with friends, twitter, read about the 8th grade and 10th grade math curriculum to better assist my kids, listen to some relaxing music from my playlist? Thankfully, my earbuds were right next to my recliner! Slowly my nausea started decreasing, though at a snail’s pace, to more tolerable levels. Not great by any means, but the extreme level of heaving diminished to a more controllable level. Though I still felt extremely nauseated, I was no longer at the point of dry heaving. (It’s now 2:40 am and all of this disturbance began around 12:39 am). But what about my abdomen? (I'm unsure if the current pain is radiating from my stomach or small intestines) The heating pad has steadily remained on it, I've verified that it's working by bare hand checks since the abdominal skin no longer seems able to distinguish he temperature on its’ own, apparently its become immune or accustomed to heat it provides. (This is likely why some people in the online support groups end up with burns from their heating pads. The spasmodic pain is so much, and heating pads turned to on high so often, that the skin cells apparently lose their sense of touch in some form or fashion.) So here I sit. All by myself, with a phone in my hand, typing away, trying to make sense of how I can best find some rest and relief from awful painsomnia & recurrent everlasting nausea at now, 3:30 in the morning. Exhausting all of my coping strategies (a warm bath was taken prior to bed as this current flare has been going on for days now). My eyelids heavy but unable to remain closed for effective rest. Debating if I should break down and take a tramadol just to see if it can end the present pain, since nothing else appears to help. I am keen aware that I have it available for a reason, this exact reason, but medicines for pain or not ideal for me. I don't want to become dependent on more medications. Pain medicine, while it helps momentarily, often leads to more issues later. So instead I will sit, hugging my heating pad, snuggling it tight against my bare abdomen under my t-shirt (yes my hands let me know that it's still producing heat) while slowly breathing in and out, postponing medication as long as possible. Praying that I can survive this painful wave all by myself, alluding any additional medications. In case you haven't realized it, painsomnia and relentless nausea absolutely sucks - and during the morning hours when I am suppose to be sleeping - it's even more frustrating and tiring. My body just doesn't seem to comprehend how to break this cycle or flare, whatever you want to call it, this past week! I don't know what set this course in motion this time. Was it the antibiotic or ibuprofen for my tooth infection and extraction a little over a week ago, the barium study from a week ago, the small banana I tried on Monday, or the little bit of ice cream I consumed on Wednesday? A combination of any of the above or possibly even from no fault of my own? I don't know. I think that's what's so exasperating as I have no clue how to effectively avoid these all too common flares. And when they start, it takes a while (days or in this case a week so far) to alleviate the extreme symptoms. Yet, somehow I'm suppose to keep trying. Regardless, I fight to convince myself to be "brave" and strive as hard as I can to improve nutritional intake (by tube and/or mouth). But at what costs? These attempts most often provoke increased troubling symptoms, leaving me feeling stupid for allowing myself to continue falling into this recycling pit. What's the point of demanding my body to take in nutrition if it's only going to keep me miserably nauseated and in pain? This week's pain has progressively gotten worse and harder to tolerate. My usual coping skills have been put to the tests, but my pain and relentless nausea continues anyway. Therefore, my plan for today is to simply resist any tube feeds or oral liquids in hopes of resetting my body. But first, I'm gonna try once again, with heating pad intact, to doze off in my recliner for a little bit, now that I'm not actually heaving anymore. I will, however, remain keeping a bag nearby just in case my nausea “sky rockets” once again. -------------- Update: It's now 3:20 pm. No sleep was ever achieved. My house has been full of activity today as my husband, pets, and children scurry around. My stomach is still under the heating pad. I haven't been able to part with it due to the continuous cramping pain I'm still experiencing. The family has been to the grocery store to purchase items for their Labor Day celebration. My daughter made some deviled eggs and brownies, while my husband grilled some ribs for their dinner today. The smells and aromas of food and seasoning have my nausea escalating once again. I have kept true to my word, no tube feeds have been started yet, and the only thing that has entered my mouth has been my routine nausea medication. This is insane and painful, hidden from others outside of my immediate family, but it's my life and unfortunately, I can't change the situation. Instead, I will have to muster up the strength and patience to wade through these extreme symptoms, heating pad and all as I'm determined not to visit the ER unless my ileostomy output completely stalls or in the off chance that a fever begins. Thank goodness, I have IV fluids at home to help keep me hydrated. The physical, social, and emotional impact that someone experiences while living with the challenges of having a chronic illness can be extremely overwhelming. In my case, physically dealing with persistent nausea, a range of abdominal discomfort to severe pain (depending on oral attempts and rate or duration of tube feeds), and fatigue take a toll on my body. My tube feeds and IV hydration require me to be connected to bags and poles for the majority of each day, though I do feel very fortunate to have them in place because they really do help. As exhausting as the physical symptoms are, they can also impact my social and emotional responses. Continuously feeling bad is hard enough, but, when I have to make a decision that is likely to make me feel worse, regardless of which choice I make, well that starts to be taxing on the social and emotional aspects of my life. Receiving adequate nutrition can be extremely challenging.
How do I tell my body that increasing feeds, increasing what or how much liquids I drink, or attempting to eat something (anything) is in my best interest when it creates pain and nausea? Similarly, how do I deny my body the nutrition, food, or liquids that my body needs and sometimes craves, while attempting to decrease my symptoms and misery, when it creates additional issues such as lack of energy, fatigue, and social isolation? The best answer, or at least what I'm trying to do, is find a balance, take turns based on how I'm feeling, test my boundaries as safely/carefully as possible, and accept that my body may have to face some related consequences which hopefully are not too severe. Accept, there's that word that we all have to dance around and think about. What is acceptance in relation to chronic illness? How do I decide what I can, could, or should accept in respects to my illness? (An earlier blog I wrote regarding my thoughts on reaching Acceptance can be read here.) I believe when someone is living with a chronic illness, it's important to reach a level of acceptance. It is necessary to understand and discover a way to find peace in one's self. However, I feel as if acceptance is forever evolving, something we have to continuously work on and consider, something that we have to continue working toward achieving. What we accept with chronic illness changes day by day and by the condition of our body and spirit in the moment. Acceptance is not the same as giving up or being complacent, instead, it's a sign that you are okay being you, even with illness, and that you will make the best of the situation. I also believe that acceptance is not the same for everybody. What I'm able to accept as far as my health condition and the limitations it creates, the treatments I'm willing to undergo, and the way I view the appliances I have to use (such as the feeding tube, IV PORT, and ileostomy) may or may not be accepted by another patient with similar needs. In addition, acceptance can vary as time progresses. For instance, I honestly believed that I had reached a point of acceptance for some of my issues. Unfortunately, I'm finding myself confused upon realization that I'm currently challenged with trying to accept the very things that I had previously accepted (or so I thought). Personally, I think that I must have accepted my feeding tube, lack of eating meals, and feeling sick daily when I could view it as a temporary situation, when I still had hope that it would eventually disappear, and saw the possibility that I could be healed. However, instead of getting better with time, the possibility of my health issues becoming permanent is sinking in and making me second guess what I should or shouldn't accept. Currently, I am trying to decipher how to cope long term with the effects and changes that my illness has on my overall life day after day. I'm currently trying to reach a comfortable and achievable level of acceptance with my illness and all that accompanies it, while also holding onto the idea that my condition can still improve if the right treatment plan is found and put in place. Since I've accepted the realization that I'm no longer the same person that I used to be, I am no longer hindered by grief over the loss of my prior self. Admittedly, I do still find it difficult to accept a part of me that I may never completely regain, good health, but I am also aware that my eyes have been opened to a world that I never truly understood. I have grown as a person, learned more about general health, body systems, and medical jargon than I ever imagined. I have also learned the value of having close family, a compassionate and caring medical team, and "true" friends. I may have had to face some of my weaknesses some honestly very scary times, but I have also discovered some strengths within myself that I didn't even know existed. My patience, self-esteem, and drive to continue forward has been tested in multiple ways over the past few years, but as so many other people with chronic illness have to do, I am learning to be resilient. Coping with the ongoing effects of chronic illness requires me to constantly redefine who I am and stand strong in my Faith, molded by the reality experienced as a result of my illness. All chronic conditions have the potential to take on a "life of their own", can make one feel powerless over their life, hopeless from the lack of control over one's illness and/or symptoms, and quite possibly isolated as a result of not only their illness but sometimes over the limited choices ahead of them. Functional GI disorders, such as gastroparesis and colonic inertia, are often misunderstood and unpredictable. This can be very frustrating to the patient as well as their doctors. We can all expect that there will be challenges and setbacks, some significant and possibly even overwhelming at times, but that does not always mean we are prepared for the lack of options, treatments, or answers that sometimes occur. When diagnostic testing requires you to put your body through tortuous hell with the understanding that it may not open up any new treatment options, you can't help but question how necessary the tests really are. I don't think anyone would want to voluntarily exacerbate the most troubling symptoms they experience just for the heck of it, but often that's exactly what we have do if we want a chance at discovering some answers and/or solutions. How can I teach myself to simply accept some of the horrible testing I have to undergo, accept the lack of options available to help me feel better, and allow myself to accept feeling sick the majority of the time without giving up on myself or my medical team too early? The persistence of symptoms makes it difficult for me to ignore, explain, and accept. Resisting or rebelling to accept the reality of my condition can cause me to push myself beyond what my body can handle, creating more exhaustion in the aftermath while I attempt to recover from my choices. Consequently, if I accept too much, I may unintentionally limit myself from reaching the best improvements possible. However, when it's all said and done, the best I can do is accept what I can in the moment and let the rest fall into place, then reevaluate the next time I begin to feel as if I'm struggling with acceptance. This past weekend I remained home while my family went away for a weekend trip to the water park. While I don't like being left behind from vacations, I welcomed a little bit of "me" time. As crazy as it sounds, I'm still trying to physically recover from my outing earlier this month. Well that and the difficulty sleeping due to numerous nightmares each night over the past month or two. My lack of patience and levels of irritability have increased, which to me is a cue that I'm in need of some quiet 1 on 1 reflections.
During my necessary "me" time.... I enjoyed bonding with our new kitten. I attempted to journal and blog - both of which were unsuccessful. After deaccessing my PORT, I took a couple of long relaxing hot baths. I turned up the speaker volume and listened to my favorite songs. For some reason, the above just didn't quench my thirst to feel "normal" enough. I have spent so much time trying to be extra mindful and careful of meeting my medical needs and preventing (if that's even possible) undesirable symptoms. I've tried to stick solely to tube feeds, IV hydration, and only extremely low volumes of liquids. Quite literally, I was and am sick of playing it safe, to only feel discouraged and abnormal. I wanted to feel at least semi-normal. I wanted to take a chance at seeking and maybe even achieving some non-sick normalcy, even if it meant that I would have to face some consequences. However, at the same time, I was well aware that I didn't want to risks stupidity or create any harm. The thing is, I don't know what I am expecting or in search of. I know that there's a large spectrum of normalcy. Not everyone is the same. My normal is not the same as the next person's normal or the next. We all have our own "normal" which constantly evolves with time. Blah blah blah...... But what about when you look within yourself or at yourself from a different perspective and you no longer know what your normal is supposed to be like anymore? What about the times when you feel like a stranger in a stranger's body with a stranger's mindset? How is any of that normal? How do you accept your normalcy, whether it's desired or not, without completely retreating or withdrawing from yourself and others? Because to be quite honest, I'm exhausted from trying to be normal in everyone else's eyes while also trying to make myself understand and accept that my current normal can be ok. |
Trisha BundyA proud mother, educator, Gastroparesis & GI Motility Disorder Advocate, Like my content? Want to thank me with a small token of appreciation? https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/1LH7R639ORBML?ref_=wl_share
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