Consistency can be a Challenge with Chronic Illnesses

I'm trying to make posting a more consistent thing. Struggling because every time I decide I'm well enough to blog, my chatty mind begins to ramble, making it appear any attempted post would end up several thousand meaningless words, thrown up in an attempt to be "worth" being read, which leads to no post at all. Reality tells me 3 words are as important as 300, and nobody really needs to read the words for my feelings to be valid. This is about purging thoughts rather than hanging onto them. Part of my life now, going forward, is about just expressing it and being able to move on. 

So.... here are some pics I took this week. Every morning, I open the drapes to let in natural lighting, then I watch the bird feeder traffic for a while, as my body wakes and whines itself back to upright. 

This is some of what I get to see...

oops. I did it again...

Slipped yester~eve, around 5pm. Getting back into truck after visiting ATM. Right foot on runner, left foot up in truck. Right  foot slips completely off of runner, hits ground, continues pulling me into splits. Hanging onto seatbelt strap. Regain footing, ripping pain on right side. hip/low back. muscle throbs immediately. Get home, pace for about 45 minutes because I could not fathom lifting my leg to climb onto my bed. Began icing as soon as I lay down, knees propped up... 20 minutes on ice, 40 off. Repeat as necessary. Smoked about 4 puffs before even attempting to lay down. Thankful for cannabis to help take off the edge, but I'm immediately aware that I'm going to be dealing with pain levels of 8, even AFTER cannabis, for however long this hangs on. 
The night was long, and painsomnia is REAL people. This morning I tried my Epsom and essential oils soak in the tub. It was not very pleasant. But I had to try. When I got up this morning, (notice I didn't say when I "woke") I noted right away that although my "injury" was on the right side, I'm now feeling it all of the LEFT side. (experience hints that my left side pulled to "correct" the tweak from my slip, because my back is in a spasm on the left.)
I'm holding my breath and "puffing" a lot. I used to be oblivious to that behavior until it was pointed out. Today, it's annoyingly obvious. Coping mechanisms are strange. I was new ones. After my replacement body arrives. Then I'll work on my quirks.
I'm nervous. Who knows whether "this" will be the time it cannot resolve without medical intervention. Now. First time without insurance since President Obama's plan saved me. Now effective 12/31, boom! No household income, no benefits. And, here. Wipe out, hurt your back...Welcome to 2019 in America.

Do you ever miss me?

I've been passing time over~thinking a lot lately. Chronic illness is a lonely place. But lately, it's been YOU that sneaks into my thoughts. It's been a long time since we've seen one another face to face. I just wonder whether you also think of me. And what you might be thinking if you DO. I miss being in your life. Samesies? Or pass? 

IT'S DECEMBER!

In case you thought I disappeared... nope. Just struggling with flares due to Minnesota weather changes. We had a snowstorm Saturday, which kicked my ass. (My Epsom bath was too much.) Chew on that. Ugh. 

I've got some stuff churning in the noggin. As soon as I'm able, I'll be updating with a longer post. 

For now, just checking in. 

Hope your weekend was relaxing...

It's been almost a month; I'm still struggling

Koko died October 3rd. She was 11. This is the 3rd fur baby to whom I've said goodbye. She was a significant presence since I got sick. She was, in fact, a gift for my 40th birthday. I had been ill, not realizing I'd NEVER GET BETTER, for several weeks when we brought her home. With her birth Feb 3rd, she was ready to come home in April; at that point I'd been ill for almost a month. I still expected to recover fully.
When I did not, Koko was there, seemingly equipped with the support I didn't even know I'd be needing. We spent the next 11 3/4 years together. We each had an ongoing battle for our own health.
Koko spent her life dealing with an endocrine malfunction. She struggled with pseudo~pregnancy, bloating, intermittent hair loss, anxiety. After having a single litter of 5, she got an inter~uterine infection and had a hysterectomy.
That little sprite was a force of her own. I miss her a lot.
Her passing snapped into focus the fact that she fought an invisible enemy since very close to the time I was diagnosed. We were kindred spirits. And her body wore out. I don't feel like I had enough time with her. I also feel a large void due to the fact that she was my therapy dog. It's been said that animals are very sensitive to humans being ill. I can attest to the truth in that. Koko slept closer, became quieter, whenever I was having a flare, or a crash. She spent her entire lifetime caring for me. And I, for her. We were a good team.
If her illness shortened her life, what can I expect for mine?
I've learned to live with my condition, but the what ifs? never seem to stop. I continue to find acceptance; I continue to grieve.
RIP Koko Bella Bambina
I love you!

Dear {Insert Name Here} #2

Dear {Insert Name Here}

All of this Supreme Court Nominee stuff in the media is causing me awful anxiety. I cannot believe that the Republicans are questioning these victims! It's triggered a whole re-visitation to dark events when we were young. I am keeping the details vague, as I've had several days to consider whether naming names would serve any positive purpose. I decided that because you apologized in public to me, and it would never change the outcome, or help me heal, I'm going to remain mute on the who's who details. You and I know.
 I was Bleep-teen years old, a month into my role as the "new girl" at a new school. It was a bit overwhelming for me because in my hometown, I was pretty much a pariah. From as early as First Grade, I recall feeling an outcast. Tough time making friends. Poor kid, dumpy haircuts, shit clothes, ADHD, anxious as fuck, etc. 
Here I was, in the probation period of friendships. Lots of cool kids, from various cliques, wanted to be friendly. I got invited to the first BIG party of the year. 
You were there. I recall you were the All-American Guy. Very good looking, very popular, multi-sports star, and I'm pretty sure you were smart as fuck too. Teachers and students alike adored you. None of these were known to me until the weeks after that night. I barely knew "of" you prior to this night. 
I had WAY too much to drink, so the 2 girls I was with left me to sleep it off in the flatbed of a truck. I was told (later) that it was the truck of a friend of one of the girls I was with, but was not the vehicle in which I had arrived to the party. 
You stumbled outside (perhaps to pee?? I cannot fathom that you actually PLANNED this encounter. I believe you were not that vile) and somehow figured out I was there as you walked by. You crawled up beside me and proceeded to unbutton my shirt. Which, by the way, bore a HUGE signal as to my condition, I had spilled a DRINK down the front of my pale shirt (pink or white) and that drink was blackberry brandy or some shit. I recall the shirt went into the trash because I could not imagine that horrible stain away. You were undoing my pants, then yours, all while I had my eyes half closed, slurringly pleading for you to stop. I even threatened I was going to throw up, perhaps to make you stop, perhaps I really felt it coming... I don't recall which. My bra was undone, shirt pushed up, pants half down, and you tried to have sex with me. What saved us both was the fact that you were so drunk that you could not maintain your erection. I shudder when I think of the alternative ending that may have been. 
What has caused me the most detriment was not even the act itself. Instead, I just shrugged the girls away when they later asked about the condition of my clothing upon returning to get me very shortly after. I didn't even share details with them until AFTER the shitstorm on Monday began. 
I was by my locker between classes, and you walked up behind me. I had been sneered at since my arrival to school that morning. EVERYONE seemed to know, although I cannot recall how. I have a hazy recollection of your departure that night. I don't recall if someone found us, or you left on your own. I was in and out of consciousness. I do know that I did not have sex that night. I had my period and I still had a tampon still properly in place when we got back to my friend's house after the party. 
When you approached me at my locker Monday morning, I recall hearing a whoosh inside my head, and I was afraid I was going to faint in front of all of these people. Then you APOLOGIZED for "what happened Blankday night" and I just stared at you, and then the floor. I scuttled away, trying to avoid the stares all around me.
What changed me forever was the way all of the FEMALES talked about me and shunned me. I was called a slut, a whore, and my potential 'friend' list shrunk to almost no one. People who weren't even AT the party, deciding they knew what happened better than the two involved. 
I've never been able to trust women the same. In the instant I consider a woman might be a bit competitive or cynical toward other women, etc. I shut the door to that relationship because I don't ever want to be on the receiving end of that feeling again. 
#IBelieveHer 

Body Image

In the summer of 2017, I got a RAGING case of poison oak or poison ivy. The doctors could not determine WHICH by sight, as my rash was so inflamed, there were large patches all over my legs  and my low back. It didn't matter, as they were treated the same way. The answer was steroids. 
Ugh. I actually burst into tears at this point, begging the doc to tell me ANYTHING else. I have severe side effects to steroids. I blow up. I break out. Like bad. Enough said. Just wanted to set the scene for you. 
More than a year later, I'm still trying to shed the effects of the steroids. (It's excess weight left now)
This morning, I woke feeling a bit disgruntled, not such a great night of sleep, I'm feeling more painful for the past day and a half because I ventured out Sunday. So, I dragged my butt to the bathroom, thinking an epsom and essential oil bath was just the ticket. When I got to the bathroom across the hall from my bedroom (a journey of 8 steps total!), I began to verbally blast my body. 
"I HATE this body!" 
"It's broken and I want. A. NEW. ONE!"
I determined that I was a bit above the pain threshold for considering a bath.
Then I went back to bed for a rest. 
And I heard my voice. I have 2 daughters. I'm all in for making sure my girls don't do what I just did. So I decided to change the narrative. I don't hate my body. I actually ADMIRE this body. It's broken, but it still gets me through every day. I'm just getting ready to enter the next chapter in life. My firstborn, Zachary, is planning his wedding. My second oldest, Samantha, just celebrated her 27th birthday! In December, my third, Dylan will leave the teenage years behind, and enter the 20's... and my baby bird (who HATES being my baby bird!) Peyton, is 16. I will have only one teen left. 
Soon I'll be someone's grandmother, with a super hip moniker, like "Mimi" or "Nina" rather than grandma.... 
I'm not ready to be done. And this body will carry me there. How can I hate it? I respect this body, because only I know the great lengths through which it travels, just to get me through each day. This body has an average daily pain level of a 6. That's a good day for this body. I will no longer criticize her, nor will I wish this body replaced. I will work to remind myself every day.