Growing up, I was often referred to as lazy, stubborn, and with a sour attitude. In reality I was tired. Tired all the time and suffering from a variety of types of headaches. By the time I was 13 I was severely depressed, not diagnosed mind you, because apparently all teenagers are depressed. I like to say that my faith in Christ saved me from doing severe things to myself as cries for help, but in reality I was too proud. Christians can't suffer from depression. Right?
My parents did their best to figure out how to help me, and as immigrants that were uneducated in mental health they reached out to the school for help, only to be reassured that it was just a phase. Just something to outgrow. So they continued to struggle with understanding me, and many tears, both mine and theirs, were shed. But they tried, they tried so hard.
Life continued like this, as an emotional roller coaster, through graduation, marriage, and two beautiful daughters. After my second daughter I had some pregnancy induced thyroid issues, but with meds I recovered roughly a year later. Only to continue my struggle.
I excused it many times. Babies are exhausting. Toddlers are exhausting. I'm simply unfit and need a new workout regime. Until I slowly ran out of gas. I was moving in slow motion as others sped around me in my daily life. I watched other moms not only play with their babies, but also clean the house, do laundry, bake and cook. So I finally took my problems to the doctor, and the big game of 'What's wrong with this picture' began. It started with being diagnosed with high functioning depression, chronic fatigue, migraines and cluster headaches. Meds were prescribed and things got better. So much so that we decided to try for baby number 3.
This was the turning point in my life that I didn't see coming. I thought I was on my way up. I was joining everyone else in the race. I was 'normal'. And then it happened. I suffered an ectopic pregnancy, which burst. I won't go into to much detail. It's still a tender moment to talk about. I lost my baby, and my body had a hard time trying to recover from the surgery I underwent to clean up the aftermath. I don't actually remember much of the next couple of years that went by. I was in survival mode, that I tried my best to hide.
My husband did his best to help me, to reassure me that things would get better. He asked me to go to the doctor again, maybe get some counseling for my depression, but I kept resisting. I'm not even sure why. Until one day he stopped asking, and told me to go. Go and get help. I really am too proud. Embarrassingly so. But I went. I went and began a journey that I wish I had started years prior. A journey of education, medication, and meditation. Along this journey I finally got a diagnosis. Several, in fact. Along with the early diagnoses I had received in my childhood, I was also diagnosed with Fibromyalgia, and Trigeminal Neuralgia.
Fibromyalgia is a complex illness, which is still being researched, so I won't go into much description other than it makes a body ache like you've overdone it on a workout while having the flu and then running 5 miles. And you're just as exhausted too.
Trigeminal Neuralgia is simple to explain. Behind your ear you have a nerve that comes around it and branches off into three branches, one along the jaw, one along the cheek, and one along the forehead. Keep in mind I'm speaking in general here, I'm not a doctor. Trigeminal Neuralgia is when something, such as blood vessels, press against the Trigeminal nerve, and causes severe jolting pain in the face, either in the temple, cheek, or jawline, depending where the nerve was being irritated.
Thankfully, my doctor and I have managed to figure out a combination of meds that keep that pain from both mostly at manageable levels. However, I've spent many months learning how to live with my illness, and how to keep flare ups minimal. Flare ups are when either, or both, of the illnesses spike higher than normal and pain is no longer manageable. I spend a lot more time on the couch or in bed during these, and they suck.
Which brings me to now. I wish I could tell you I was better. It's what everybody wants to hear. A happy ending to a journey filled with roadblocks and setbacks. Well, the thing is, the journey isn't over. Everyone has crap to deal with in their life, and this so happens to be mine. There is no fixing this. They're not illnesses where you either cure it or die. You just treat it, and keep going, one day at a time.
It's not all bad though. My husband and I have an improved appreciation for each other. I'm constantly studying and learning, looking for things that will improve my quality of life. I'm also seeing a counselor, and getting treatment for my mental health, which I've often shoved to the side, as it is it's own set of invisible ilnesses.
So, welcome to my journey. I can't promise you that it'll be interesting, or that I'll find some miracle cure. I've just always loved writing, so I'm writing what I know. Just me, living chronically at five percent.
