Sometimes in life you have to get a little lost before you are truly able to find your way.

Archive for the ‘chronic migraine’ Category

This is Winning.

Back in 2012 one of my best friends and I decided that 2013 was going to be our year. The previous few had pretty much sucked. Not that there weren’t good times or things to be thankful for, but we’d both been through a lot and we were really looking forward to a fabulous 2013. You know what they say about the best laid plans… Needless to say, 2013 didn’t turn out to be THE year. For either of us. Personally, I dealt with 4 surgeries, a failed business, a failed suicide attempt and a very tumultuous relationship. I wasn’t sorry to see it go. 2014, unfortunately, didn’t prove to be a whole lot better. Well – there was no suicide attempt so I guess that’s a pretty marked improvement lol.

Looking back over the last several years – I realize that I haven’t really had a life of my own. I really haven’t had much of a life. I have so much to be grateful for – my amazing family and friends and their seemingly endless support and encouragement. But it’s time for a change. Time to really start living.

uhaulI sit here, the night before New Year’s Eve 2014, and I AM READY. I’m ready for a lot of changes. I leave tomorrow to move 3000 miles from the comfort and support of my family back to Sacramento, back to an amazing group of friends whom I have missed SO much in the 11 years since I left CA. I have plans. Big plans. Maybe not in the same way that healthy people have big plans, but plenty for me. That’s the thing though, isn’t it? It’s not about how our lives measure up to others. It’s not about how much money we make (if any) compared to anyone else; it’s not about how nice our home is or what kinds of vacations we take or our job status – if any. It’s about setting goals for ourselves. Things we can actually achieve – or have a shot at. Even if it’s a long one. It’s about challenging ourselves. Some people are determined to get that big promotion this year. And that’s great. I am determined to find SOMETHING that I can do part time. And that’s enough for me. In fact, no, it’s not just enough – it’s HUGE. If I could go back to work in any capacity at any level – it would do more for my state of mind, my quality of life and my health and happiness than someone else’s huge promotion. It seems like a small thing to most – but to me it would mean a world of difference.

I have lots of goals like that. No need to bore you with them all here. The point is that January 1 isn’t just a time for resolutions you have little to no intention of keeping. It’s about reflecting on where you’ve been, how your life is going and what YOU can do to improve it. And to hell with the comparisons to everyone else. So get out there – set your goals – and go after them with all you’ve got. I might not have control over my migraines, but I have control over more than I have allowed myself to believe in a very long time. And this year I intend to take back the reins of my life. One way or another – this year will be a better year.

Happy New Year everyone!

Here’s to new beginnings, new goals and new-found strength!

Migraines, Meds and Making Connections

Migraine Support Group cover photo - courtesy of the U.S. Pain Foundation

Migraine Support Group cover photo – courtesy of the U.S. Pain Foundation

I recently joined a Facebook support group for migraine sufferers. It has been an experience that leaves me with such a variety of emotions. Sadness. Empathy. Frustration. Compassion. Fury. Hope. I read the posts and it is as though I am reading something that younger versions of me might have said. Versions of me in the early stages, with ill-equipped doctors doling out terrible advice and the wrong meds. Giving up on me. Over and over. Versions of me that wondered if anyone else on the planet could possibly be experiencing what I was going through. Non-stop pain. Pain that was crippling. Pain that made me wish I was dead, or at least unconscious until someone invented a cure. Isolation. Judgement. No one could SEE my migraine so many people dismissed it, underestimated it, assumed I was faking or being dramatic. Loss of wages for when I couldn’t get to or stay at work. Loss of income when I was repeatedly let go for absenteeism. Accusation of being a drug-seeker when I wound up in the emergency room. The inability of so many ER staff to distinguish between seeking drugs, and seeking comfort, progress, a few moments, at least, with less pain. Versions of me that could sense when yet another doctor was about to give up on me or simply say that my only option was pain management with narcotics. Versions of me ready to just give up all together.

More than 14 years of living with this condition has left me wiser, more cautious, patient, more discriminating about who I allow on my treatment team, and eager to get the word out that if you are dealing with migraines, or any other chronic condition – know this – YOU ARE NOT ALONE. The first time I actually believed that was when I was being treated in-patient at the Michigan Headpain and Neurological Institute. A team of doctors from various disciplines led by Dr. Joel Saper, world-renowned for his work in migraine treatment, fully dedicated to 22 patients. We did 3-day trials of intense IV protocols. Some helped. Some hurt. Some did nothing…or so it seemed. Some people had miraculous success. Others, like me, waited for weeks with no apparent improvement. We went to classes on the physiology of pain, stress reduction, coping mechanisms, art therapy, yoga. We saw psychologists. But out of all of that, one of the most amazing and life-altering parts of this entire process was the 21 other people who actually got what I was going through. REALLY got it. Not “I can only imagine” got it or “I went through something similar” got it, they actually, really, absolutely got it. That was as powerful as the medicine. It was miraculous. Life-altering. Those relationships are still some of the most important in my life.

Dr. Joel Saper, photo courtesy of MHNI

Dr. Joel Saper, photo courtesy of MHNI

My time at MHNI was also my first experience with a real headache clinic. The results were profound. If you combined all of the improvement from the previous 5 1/2 years, ridiculous number of medications and treatments and countless doctors, it was only a fraction of the relief I got from the protocol the MHNI doctors found for me.

So why am I still a chronic migraine sufferer? Pretty common question. The thing about migraine and all of the other headache disorders is that you are dealing with the most complex thing on the planet – the human brain. Brain chemistry changes CONSTANTLY. So to think that finding something that works for the moment is the same as finding a cure is just naive. What works now will hopefully work for a while. But it is unlikely that it will work indefinitely. For me, it was about two years before the efficacy of my drug protocol started to nose-dive. But when it did, it didn’t take long. It was excruciating. Both physically and emotionally. I just knew that I couldn’t go back to that level of pain every day again. And certainly not with the hours I was working. I was right. Something had to give. I was battling my HMO to allow me to go back to MHNI even though they were out of network while still trying to keep things going at home and at work. NOT sustainable. I started missing work. A lot of work. In fact, I used up all of my FMLA days. I had to take each day I missed without pay. FINALLY I got the go-ahead to go back to MHNI. I went on short-term disability, figured I’d be there for 3-4 weeks and would need another 3-4 to recover before coming back.

If only it were that simple. My second month as a patient at MHNI didn’t yield the incredible results the first one had. In fact, I was not better at all. Short-term turned to long-term disability. My financial situation deteriorated. My emotional state plummeted. I became essentially non-functional. If I got from my bed to the couch downstairs it was a big accomplishment. This went on for a couple of years. I became suicidal. I was treated at a trauma treatment center for three weeks. My emotional state improved while my physical state continued to deteriorate.

Then I moved. There were many factors that brought me from northern Virginia to central Florida, but the biggest thing (healthwise) that I got out of it was a new doctor who profoundly changed my outlook, my options, and delivered (to an extent) on promises of relief. I’ve been with him now for about two years. I’ve had several surgeries. I am better. I am not cured. I am not pain-free. But I am better. And more than that – I have hope. I often get the most amazed response to that statement. After more than 14 years of chronic pain, how can I actually be hopeful? Well here’s the thing…I had a surgery that did not exist when my condition began. And it has helped me. Not in the ways or to the extent that I was led to believe, but it did help. So why would I not assume that this incredibly complex science being explored by some of the most brilliant minds in the world would not continue to advance? It will. And I will continue to reap the benefits of that progress.

So to all of you out there at whatever stage of chronic migraine or cluster headache or whatever other disorder – hold on. Keep going. Find a good specialist and keep your expectations in check. Progress is possible and there is reason for hope. And for all of you out there who are “old hats” at this chronic pain thing – reach out. There are people who need you. None of us is alone. There are others – many others, who are going through the exact same thing as you. We deal with the same challenges, the same questions, the same stigma, the same need to not be alone in this battle.

So here’s to better science, less pain and many new connections!

 

 

Ginger Tea and Jewelry

A crack of thunder so loud it shook my building a little while ago and interrupted Chloe’s afternoon nap on my lap. She’s now hiding under the couch. I sort of wish I could hide under there too. Not from the thunder, just because it’s one of those days where my mood is very much like the downpour that darkened the day outside. Unlike the storm that passed quickly and gave way to the beautiful sunshine, my mood is not improving. Instead I’m battling with pharmacies and prescription discount programs and doctor’s offices.

I am tired. Exhausted really. Which would sound insane to the average person given that the most strenuous thing I have done today was to make ginger tea to settle my stomach. I’m coming off of one of my medications that has been wreaking havoc on my body for months. While I am glad to be getting off of it (and excited at the prospect of losing all the weight is has caused me to gain!) the process of ending it is quite challenging. It is disrupting my already troubled sleep, making me throw up, exacerbating my migraines (primarily due to the sleep disturbance). I have to make concessions. Worse – the people I love do as well. I could not make it to my mother’s house for MOTHER’S DAY. Irritating beyond belief. I finally live close enough to be with her in person on the day meant to celebrate her and in stead I was stuck home in bed. But in a few weeks I will feel better. Less sick, more energetic, hopefully in less pain and I will go spend much more quality time with her.

So I didn’t get to do what I had planned today. Instead I am barely staying awake, attempting not to further disrupt my sleep tonight by giving in to the temptation to nap this afternoon. I was up almost all of ¬†last night throwing up. No matter how many times I brush my teeth I can’t get the smell of vomit out of my nostrils. But I worked on some jewelry. What should have taken minutes took much longer and it wasn’t much to show for the day, but I made something beautiful. And that’s something.

My big accomplishment for the day :)

My big accomplishment for the day ūüôā

Sometimes we have to measure success in different increments. One day it means cleaning the house; another it means scraping up enough energy to shower and eat. Today it is getting through. And making that necklace was a bonus.

 

Hold On Pain Ends

I learned the most wonderful new acronym recently: Hold On Pain Ends. It’s funny how simple it seems, but how difficult it can be to practice sometimes. I’ve written before about what it means to keep on hoping through desperate or painful or sad times. But this phrase carries a lot of special meaning for me. I recently stumbled across a picture of myself from nine years ago.¬†It stopped me dead in my tracks. I almost didn’t recognize the face staring back at me. Young. Vibrant. Happy. Successful.¬†I wondered how just nine years could age me so much. And here’s the real kicker – that photo was taken at about 1:30 a.m. after working nearly non-stop for three days on a big proposal at my consulting firm. I should have looked ragged and tired and worn. I couldn’t even physically work those hours today, much less look good doing it at 1:30 in the morning the third straight day.

So what was it about that time in my life? I was five years into this migraine ordeal. I was clearly working way too much. But I had held on. At times where there seemed absolutely no reason to believe that my pain would lessen, much less end, that I could find happiness given some of the struggles I was dealing with, reeling from the loss of some of my closest loved ones. I held on. I continued to HOPE. Against reason, against odds. And one day, 6 months prior to that picture being taken, I was put on a new drug protocol by a truly remarkable team of doctors at the Michigan Headpain and Neurological Institute in Ann Arbor, MI. And the pain became less. It strengthened me. It renewed me. When I say I look at that picture and I see¬†success, it is not because I was making a ton of money or even that we won that contract; we lost it in fact. But I was more¬†able than I had been in a very long time. I was¬†able¬†to work for days on end with almost no breaks for sleeping or eating. I was¬†able¬†to sit in that conference room, working through ridiculous amounts of paperwork, barking orders at people three times my senior for their lack of focus and stop to smile pretty for the camera for my new employee photo that just had to be taken at that exact moment because it was the first time I’d been in one place in the office long enough to for the girl from HR to track me down!¬†Tt photo

All that is well and good, but putting things in perspective, there were five years there prior to that moment when one treatment after another DIDN’T work, right? And during that time I dealt with some things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy, both physically and emotionally. I had learned a hard lesson early on in this migraine thing. HOPE is essential. But so is managing your EXPECTATIONS. If I had continued, as I did in the beginning, to EXPECT each new treatment or medication or procedure, or whatever, to work, I would have lost hope. I have not a doubt in my mind. Learning early on that most things were NOT going to work allowed the treatments that have had positive impacts be more successful, their results more genuine and the overall effects on my pain, my life and ability to maintain hope exponentially greater than if I went into each one expecting it to be “the one.”

When that treatment regimen that I began in July 2005 started working, it hit me out of the blue. The alleviation of my symptoms felt like it fell right out of heaven, knocked me on the head and bounced half the pain right out of there! There was no false positive. No placebo affect. I had approached my treatment for so many years with the “hope for the best, expect the worst” frame of mind that when real, measurable improvement came, it sent me soaring. I couldn’t doubt it. And for a long time after that the quality of my life truly was immeasurably changed. It was that change, in fact, that allowed me to deal with the death of my fiance, by far the most difficult thing I’ve ever experienced. And that series of events, I know, happened in sequence just as it was meant to.

The marrying of those two essential functions – managing expectations and maintaining hope has saved me so many times. But I failed at one of them in an extraordinary way last year. After the last post,¬†Suicide Won’t Fix It, I¬†got a lot of feedback and a lot of tough questions. Some people were shocked. Some were sad, angry, confused. All of this, I expected. But the only explanation I can offer is this – I failed at managing my expectations. When I learned that I was a candidate for the neurostimulator implant surgery, I allowed my doctors to set my expectations at a completely unrealistic level. I envisioned no pain. I saw doors and avenues that have long been shut flinging wide open again! I saw absolutely limitless potential, every possibility available once again. I saw a new life. I saw a new me. After 12 1/2 years of very successfully managing my expectations, I made that one very grave mistake. And I rode the high of those expectations all the way to the moon. And when reality clashed with those expectations, I lost. I fell. HARD. It was the crushing blow that at one time I had been cautious enough to protect myself from, but from which I was at last was feeling the impact. When I came crashing down from that high, I crushed every ounce of hope I had managed to hold on to for nearly 13 years.

It’s one thing to live with chronic pain and to know that even with limitations, there are still some things that work; moments of feeling well, daily success stories. It is quite another to suddenly think you are on the brink of a new life, and to fall crashing back into that seemingly bottomless pit. So I urge you – whatever it is you deal with – migraines, fibro, depression, anxiety – manage your expectations and maintain your hope. It comes in many forms, but one way or another, in small ways or in big ones, if you do Hold On..the Pain does End.

hang in thereThere are some other interesting reasons why this acronym is so close to my heart. And this goes to show that things really do come full circle. When I was in middle school, I was obsessed with horses….mine in particular. Her name was Hope. I didn’t name her that; she came to me that way. And it was perfect. I had several posters in my room at the time. One was a herd of wild horses galloping down a beach. It was magnificent and there was one horse who reminded me so much of my Hope. And directly across from it on my other wall was a very famous poster with a picture of a tiny kitten hanging from a branch with the words “Hang In There.” I remember reading those words so many times over and over during difficult moments. And now, with this fabulous new acronym, those three wonderful things from my childhood – my horse and my two favorite posters are melded into one incredibly powerful phrase…Hold On Pain Ends. Some day I hope to be well enough to run a wildlife rehabilitation center. I have known for many years that if I am able to do it, I will name it New Hope Ranch. This lesson; this phrase; this entire lifetime of experience shows me that it is still the goal I must keep holding onto and keep striving to reach.¬†court and hope

Suicide won’t fix it.

In a dark and hazy cloud my eyes slowly started to open. I couldn’t breath. I couldn’t swallow. I was choking. I reached for my throat; I needed air. But my arms moved only inches before the restraints arrested all efforts to stop my choking. My arms were tied. My legs were tied. My upper body strapped in place. I tried to lean forward. A woman rushed at me and pushed me back against the bed hard and told me to relax. RELAX? How could I relax? I was choking. And apparently restrained. But why? Where was I and how had I gotten there? She exited the room in a rush. I couldn’t move my arms enough to reach my face but I could lean forward just enough to reach the finger tips of one hand to the thing that was choking me. I tugged. Pain. I pulled. More pain, but progress. I yanked and with a painful, pressure-laden, tearing movement, the tube that was choking me finally came free of my throat. Relief came, but not without a good deal of pain. And blood. The woman came back. I looked at her and realized she was a nurse. I was in a hospital. She spoke harshly. “What have you done?? I hope you’re proud of yourself, you certainly damaged your vocal chords, perhaps irreparably.” She was right. But that was the least of all of the consequences of what landed me in that hospital bed.

The precise sequence of events is still a blur. My mother was there. She looked tired and scared. I began to remember what I had done; why I was there. I shouldn’t have been there. I should be dead. Then my heart sank. If I wasn’t dead; if I was here, in the hospital, someone had found me. A fear like none I had ever known gripped me. In a painful whisper I asked, ¬†“Did Lawrence find me?” “No, my mother said, trying to choke back the tears that were falling. “Is he ok? Did he know I was ok?” I knew my mother could not have been the one to find me. I had made sure of that. But Lawrence was a different story. If he had found me in that state I could never have forgiven myself. But still my mother stood there and listened to my first words, my first concern be directed at someone she had never met. Someone I barely knew. In some ways it was a pretty good indication of how screwed up I was. My first words should have been “I’m sorry.” It would take time for my thoughts or actions to make sense. It would take time to find all of the forgiveness that was due. To my family, my friends, even to myself. I had done the unthinkable. I had been cowardly and weak and had tried to take the easiest way out of my pain. I had tried, and nearly succeeded in killing myself. Had the paramedics reached me mere minutes later, I would have been gone. My plan would have been a complete success, and my life, a failure. And I would not be here to tell of it. I would not have had the chance to beg for forgiveness from everyone I hurt. I would not have the strength to face whatever comes, knowing I have already faced the very worst, and survived. And I would not have the opportunity to tell you that whatever you are feeling is absolutely valid. And if you are considering taking your life, I get it. But I hope you choose differently than I did.

This is not an easy thing to talk about. It is not easy to think about. And I know it is not an easy thing to read. For some who know me this will be the first they have ever known about my suicide attempt. And to each of you, I am truly sorry. Some think I should not write about it. I should not expose it. But I have an obligation. Because out there, among the masses who might stumble upon this post, there are some who are there, in that dark and lonely place wondering, planning, deciding. I beg of you – please keep reading. Where it seems there is no other way, where there appears only darkness and pain, I promise you, there is hope. And I know this only because I have walked through complete hopelessness and emerged on the other side, just barely. And I am so grateful for that. For the chance to tell you there is another way. There is light. There is a reason to live. And whatever guilt or darkness or fear or stigma is eating away at your will to live – SCREW IT. You are where you are because whatever is happening in your life seems too much to overcome. And you have no idea how many of us understand that. I’m not trying to persuade you that your feelings aren’t valid. Just the opposite, in fact. They are very real. Real enough to convince you to consider death as the best or only alternative. But there’s more.

The circumstances that brought me to that place are fairly irrelevant. Not because they weren’t real or valid or enough. But because these circumstance are different for everyone. The results, however, are the same. Being suicidal comes from something different for each of us. Those close to me always want to know how I could have thought death was the only way. In truth, there were times in my past when it actually appeared to have made more sense that I would have been suicidal. And there will be people who ask you this question, who will not understand how you could think death is the only way. All that means is that they are lucky enough not to have experienced being where you are. It is not judgement. It is fear and love wrapped up in what often feels like judgement.

The circumstances don’t matter. That sounds harsh, I know. But it’s the truth. Because no matter what each of us is going through, no matter what has brought us to this place of unimaginable suffering that we know we cannot bear for one more moment, the only thing that matters, is that those circumstances, all put together, no matter their enormity, are, above all else, TEMPORARY. In fact, all of what we experience is only temporary. The fleeting highs and the apparently interminable lows. The good days, the bad days. Our triumphs and our losses. All of these things that make up our experience of life are temporary. And to use a permanent, irreversible action, suicide, to deal with/escape/end/fix…however you choose to describe it, is…this decision is, at its core, illogical and flawed.

I wish I had known so many things that day. I wish I had known that despite the hopeless way I felt, hope did still exist, and would find me again. I wish I had known that the enormity of all of the things that I was dealing with, while they felt too much, too big, too heavy, too powerful to overcome, would, in fact, be overcome. Not all at once the way I felt I needed, but little by little; they have been…they are¬†being overcome. Some part of me wishes I had known the true nature of pain that I was about to inflict on those who love me most. That I could have foreseen the pain ingrained in every fiber of my mother’s being because of what I had done. But perhaps it’s best that I couldn’t grasp that in those moments because for me, guilt was a heavy weight on the scale inching me towards suicide. From this side of the choices that I made that day though, I live with the fact that I cannot erase the permanent image of me lying in that hospital bed, bound to it, unconscious, with a machine breathing for me and tubes coming out of me that she has etched in her memory. I wish with all my heart that I could take that away. I wish I had known the panic and terror in the hearts of everyone who was desperately searching for me, knowing that each minute that passed by could be the difference between life and death. I wish I had known that less than a year later, I would be sitting here on my couch in my new apartment, minutes from the ocean, having overcome so much of what I thought that day, in those last moments I would never be able to live with. I wish I had the voice of someone who had been in my shoes speaking into me the strength and hope that might have made the difference in the choice between life and death. Or simply a hand to hold in silence that might have delayed my action long enough to change my mind.

Suicide is a funny thing. For those who are truly suicidal, what many people do not understand is that it can be the one, solitary thing that we feel we have control over. It feels like the only thing we can do to change our circumstances, end our pain, fix what is broken. To an extent, that is sometimes true. We do have control over it and many things in life are out of our hands. But the flip side, the reality, the truth we find hardest to see, is that we also have control over the choice to live. To find a way, however impossible it seems, through whatever brought us to that edge. We have that choice. And choice is power.

Suicide is alluring, almost intoxicating because in our darkest moments is promises to fix everything at once. It ends all the pain and suffering and hopelessness in one fell swoop. That promise, that idea that “suicide fixes everything at once”…it’s crap. It’s not real. It’s just a way to avoid facing the harder, better, stronger, braver choice to get through it all…whatever your all is, one tiny step at a time. Don’t feel like you have the strength to take another step? Fine. You crawl. You inch. You slide one hand forward before you can crawl. You make a movement and it is PROGRESS. It is substantial and brave and powerful. It says FUCK YOU to everything that is breaking you down. It is success and it is HOPE.

And no matter how alone we might feel at the bottom of this pit Рwe are never truly alone. Our actions do not happen in a vacuum. We do affect others in profound ways that we cannot fathom. No matter how alone we feel there are people who will mourn, who will take our actions upon their own shoulders and walk heavy with misplaced guilt, much the same way many of us have/are doing. If you have not a soul in the world who you believe will care if you are gone, there is a paramedic who will be unable to save you. A coroner who must examine you. Someone, some people will suffer from your actions. I say this not to inspire more guilt. The choice we make  must be about ourselves, not those around us. I say this to remind you that no matter how isolated you feel,  you are never truly alone.

I won’t go in to all of what kept me alive when I was absolutely, resolutely determined to die that day. For now, I will say this. I had planned meticulously. I hurt more than I ever had dared to imagine possible. I was 100% sure of what I was doing. I was crumbling beneath the weight of things I no longer had the power to keep from crushing me. But I was WRONG. I know that now. And if you are in that place I promise you with all that I am, you are wrong too. You can, and should CHOOSE to live. That much you do have the power to do. The rest of it, whatever it is, no matter how much it hurts, will someday be behind you. But first you have to make that choice. Take that step. Move, just a little – forward. It is worth it. YOU are worth it. You are more powerful than you can, in this moment even conceive. I know you are, because I was you. And today, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I am more powerful than anything that life might throw at me. And despite the years of falling down into that pit, in that place where the cold and the dark and the fear and the hopelessness and pointlessness all collide, my choices can keep it all from owning me ever again. And your choices, today, can lead you out of it. So choose. Be braver than I was. Be the strength you don’t dare to believe you have. Do the one thing you feel you cannot do. Choose to live.

There’s no Trying on Everest! DO it!

35Tomorrow I turn 35. I have no big plans – just a quiet dinner with family, but still it feels like one of those “milestone” birthdays. I’ve been reflecting on the path that brought me here. I’ve mulled over all of the challenges and choices and lessons that brought me to this age, this frame of mind, these circumstances, the state of my health and of my relationships. I have looked back at years of thoughts and dreams and accomplishments and failures immortalized in ink. In journals, unsent letters sitting in boxes, tiny scraps of paper carelessly tossed into drawers. Reliving what the world looked like through the eyes of younger versions of myself is such a uniquely interesting experience. To celebrate, I thought I would share two gems I found. One is scrawled on a piece of scrap paper that seems to wind up in different boxes each time I move (apparently saved many times over from the recycling bin). The other is from a journal that documented a particularly difficult year. ¬†I’ve read both of them many times. I find myself wondering about the moments when these thoughts spilled out of my brain, not sure exactly what prompted them at the time, but always amused that they remain relevant and empowering, no matter where I am or what I’m facing.


I have dreamed of being a writer, a dancer, a mother, an explorer, a journalist, a teacher, a scientist, a wife, an advocate, a traveler, a well person….my list goes on and on. Today, on my birthday, I dream most of being an independent person, open to new love, with the possibility of a career. They might not seem like big dreams, but from inside the walls of the pain I live with every day – they are my Everest, and I am busy collecting the tools I will need to conquer it. Life keeps on happening, and so do I.


 

TOMORROW I WILL DO BETTER. No matter how good or bad or mediocre my days are, I will always strive to do better, to be better. I will challenge myself to dig deeper; to think bigger, to be more generous, to love more openly, to be more kind. I will try harder to forgive others and to forgive myself. I will concentrate less on everyone’s faults (including my own..especially my own) and to BE MORE POSITIVE! I will SMILE more and LAUGH more and DO more to create happiness. I will focus on the good around me and in me. I will endeavor to learn more and cultivate new skills, new friendships and new hobbies. I will be more productive. I will have more fun. I will be a better friend, daughter, sister, self…

Nothing in this world ever changes if we focus on besting one another. We must challenge ourselves. Progress comes when we commit not just to TRY, but each and every day to DO better than we did the day before. So today, and every day, I promise that TOMORROW I WILL DO BETTER!!!

35 papers chloe

 

 

A Healthy Dose of Reality…Television?

I turned on the television and started flipping through the channels the other day and thought to myself, “WOW…there is a LOT of crap on TV these days!” Sometimes I think I ought to just get rid of my television all together. But when chronic pain often confines you to bed, that turns out to not be such a great idea. Sure – too much TV¬†can be a waste of time. But in moderation it can also be entertaining and informative and can often make us think and feel. Much like books, good television – fiction or not, has the potential to make us reflect on our own lives; learn about others; remind us of where we’ve been; inspire new pursuits; let go of hurt that belongs in the past or, my personal favorite – laugh until our sides hurt!

punky-brewster-3Outside of my love of science and history programs, I find that I am often drawn to shows with characters who are real and story-lines that might be yours or mine. I am a Friends addict. I can pretty much recite every episode. As a kid, I was hooked on The Brady Bunch and The Cosby Show and Punky Brewster. This past year I started watching Parenthood. It is such a great reminder that things are not always what they seem; that nothing lasts forever and that in life, there simply are no guarantees.

Parenthood - Season 4If you’ve never watched it, it is a show about the Braverman family – the parents (Zeek and Millie), their four children (Adam, Sarah, Julia and Crosby) and each of their families.¬†The two Braverman kids who seem to have it all together, Adam and Julia, wind up facing unimaginable adversity from cancer to infertility and more. Sarah and Crosby, however, whose accomplishments include marrying a deadbeat, addict musician, meeting a 5-year old son from a one night stand while living on a boat and having mom do laundry at the age of 30, a string of jobs ranging from play-write, bar-tender and pet photographer….they somehow manage to figure it out and turn all of these lemons into the best darn lemonade on the block.

What makes shows like this one great is that they are, above all else, relatable. We can see pieces of ourselves in each of the characters. We find comfort when their failures look like our own and at the same time, are reminded that nothing lasts forever. Pain subsides. And success can be fleeting. What matters most isn’t what we have, but what we choose to do and who we share our moments with.

boston bombingOn the reality side of television, just before the new year I watched an ABC special entitled The Year 2013. It was a look back at the 2013 news headlines, from the Boston Marathon bombing to the death of Nelson Mandela. I found myself in awe, inspired, saddened….by so many images and stories of people suffering unimaginable devastation, loss, injury/trauma/illness, catastrophe….and rising above it all. It was humbling. Inspiring. Guilt-laden and shut-me-up astounding. It was a shocking reminder of how lucky most of us are. How lucky I am. There are so many lessons surrounding us at every turn if we can get outside of our own tiny atmosphere and set our sights beyond the tip of our own noses.

1902 S 45thAt the time I watched the special, I was living in a tiny, one room cinder block house with windows that were not weather-tight, and therefore had plastic covering them all. It was in a bad neighborhood and I rarely went outside. I often referred to it as my prison. Oh boo-hoo me, right? Watching this TV program was such a wake-up call. I had been wallowing for way too long. I needed to look beyond that walls that did not, as I often perceive them to…imprison me, but DID, in fact, shelter me. Kept me warm (or cool, as the case may be mid-summer in Florida!) and dry and comfortable. Was it ideal? No, of course not. Circumstances like these often make it hard to see beyond the physical pain I live with. But a small bit of attention paid to the rest of the world makes it easier to see that while yes, my pain is real, things, as my mother often reminds me, could always be worse. What I do or think or feel today will not be the best or worst of what I have thus far experienced, or of what is to come.

So yes, too much TV can definitely rot your brain. But every now and then, the fictional characters or real life heroes help to put life, love, loss and the resilience of the human spirit into perspective. With that in mind – here’s to all the characters – made up and self-made, who inspire us to live life better!

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