Today officially marks 2 years since the big bad incident that turned my world upside down. The freak-of-nature style accident that wrecked my life as I knew it.
It’s been strange as I have reflected upon all the other times in my life where a “freak accident” very well could have caused this exact same thing to occur, but didn’t. Since we now seem to have determined there is at least partially a genetic component to this (meaning I was already destined to have these conditions it just took the right mi of circumstances to trigger it) it’s miraculous how long I made it before all the insanity struck.
Between strange viruses as a child (not being able to walk randomly for 3 days was pretty insane), to getting knocked off a bike while sitting (not riding) it by someone else riding a bike (head injuries hurt), to my glorious CRPS first incident, it’s been a wild ride. Back in college, between the college dorm black mold exposure to falling down a flight on stairs knees first, I’m shocked I didn’t wind up with some of this strangeness manifesting itself. To my trip to Europe and altitude induce respiratory infection and my China trip adventure (A series of insane illness/freak things like bed bugs and contamination)- I seemed to walk away unscathed. My PCOS adventure round 1 at 13 and subsequent appendectomy surgery (yay birthdays) followed by the round 2 adventure at 20 (thanks for using a staple for that surgery in a juvenile with PCOS guys…it was oblivious going to get dislodged). Again all unscathed by this. I walked away just fine it seemed.
But for some reason, despite all those occurrences happening when I wasn’t at peak health, one stupid Portuguese man o’ war vs. super healthy me equaled the perfect disaster.
I guess we can also review the progression of symptoms as a major factor as well. Being laid off then bed bound due to the constant vomiting and fainting led to muscle weakness which allowed my apparent hyper-mobility to appear. And I suppose my stomach issues getting worse could also be contributed to the disastrous combo of medications plus food reactions and withdrawal. But at the end of the day, 2 years after the incident, I’m 10x worse than I was right after. My cognition (while better than it was a few months ago) is still no where near where it was 2 years ago. Same with my mobility, I’m now completely reliant on constant help and care.
September is a bad month for me.
September marks 12 years since my first mental breakdown (medication induced) and my diagnosis of Bipolar and Depression (followed rapidly by anxiety, panic disorder etc). It marks the beginning point of a journey through medications that made me numb for years, a battle to find a good therapist, and an eventual success of finding an incredible psychiatrist whose stuck with me. But it also brings up seriously dark memories. A major break-up years ago that was much needed and a realization of what emotional abuse and manipulation was (don’t worry, that person is now very very far away from me forever). The start of an eating disorder (triggered by one very sucky doctor). The manifestation of a lot of problems happened right here- the beginning of school it seems.
But September also marks a time where I realized achievements. Where I overcame an eating disorder over 3.5 years ago thanks to an incredible human being in my life stepping up and helping me learn to love myself and get healthy. It marks when I officially got my Bachelors in the mail 4 years ago. It marks when I officially realized my best friend and the best human in my life was always going to stick by my side through all kinds of chaos. It marks when I started a great job 4 years ago that allowed me to move up in to restaurant management. It marks my promotions, the beginning of a job interview for a job change, and when i was originally scheduled to start coming off my medications.
September is complicated. Today is complicated. I’m a mix of emotions and sadness, anxiety and depression, anger and confusion. I’ve been unwell most of the day (Week actually) with my stomach rejecting foods again, low blood pressure and a fever creating worse dehydration and thus confusion, and I’m at another withdrawal threshold. This means it just plain sucks.
Looking back at everything (yes I’m only 26 but I swear I’ve had 2 lifetimes worth of experiences at this point) part of me is angry at what happened. Angry at all the calamity that seemed to emerge in my life, the interruptions, the divergence from my chosen path, and the reliance I now have on the charity and kindness of others. But another part of me is grateful. Grateful for what these experiences have shown me about myself and about the world around me. Yes this experience is horrible right now, horrific even. But maybe, just maybe, it’s going to make me a better and stronger person. I’m not at the end of the road yet (apparently this is a multi year, multi chapter adventure…) but that’s just another page in my book.
I’m a mix of emotions, disappointment mostly. Amid it though is hope. Hope that (since nerves take around 2 years to regenerate) my nerves will start healing, maybe this can be a turning point. Hope that I can view this as the apex of the story and the climax is over, now we just begin true healing. Healing both mentally and physically.
I think I’ll just try and focus on that.
Life On Fire 