“We’re Raising Good Kids”

1 Comment

A touchy topic keeps popping up in my discussions lately. “Do we as parents treat one child harsher than the other?”

I can honestly say that my husband and I are guilty of this. I attempted to break our behaviors down to understand why, and hopefully make some changes.

I am rough on my daughter, my husband is more gentle. I tend to be easier on my son, where as my husband is pretty tough on him.

Here are my thoughts. Being a female in the current state of the world is not easy. It’s actually friggin’ hard. When my 8 year old daughter comes home crying saying that boys in her class teased her about her hairy legs (she has some Greek and Italian genes,) or how some other little boy makes fun of everything she says or does, my initial reaction is not so pleasant. After I take a breath, I want to contact the parents of these gentlemen in training and ask for a little help, or email her teacher and request she intervene. But the reaction that usually seems to explode out of me is, “You need to tell them to shut up, stand up for yourself, be strong!”  I want to tell her I know what it feels like to be bullied. I know that you’re going to have boys/men make sexist, demeaning and disgusting comments towards you. Those boys/men may then laugh it off as if it were their lame attempt at humor, but you will know and sadly they will know that it was not a joke. I want to tell her that she will always have to be aware of her surroundings. I want to tell her that she will have to continue to fight for control over her own body and  rights. I want to tell her that I have felt the physical pain that accompanies PCOS and autoimmune issues, and hopefully she won’t have to, but who knows how the genetic lottery will play out, so toughen up. I want to tell her how suffocating infertility and miscarriages are, and how defective both make you feel. I want to tell her that it is imperative that she leave unhealthy relationships, and that it is not her job to make everyone happy. Instead, when she cries over what I may consider silly things, or she shares that someone is bothering her, or she complains about her annoying brother, I tell her to be stronger.

I want to tell her that being a girl is an amazing thing. I want to tell her that she has a strength in her that is equal to no other. I want to tell her that it is okay to be soft sometimes. She is loving, funny, weird, artistic, athletic and intelligent.  She should foster those qualities and never allow anyone else’s opinions or behaviors diminish them.  My husband is gentler with her. I know he wants to protect her. I know this because I want to protect her too. Except I know she doesn’t just need my protection. She needs me as her role model. She needs to learn to self-advocate and defend herself. I need to find a balance.

My son is a different story. I want to shield him from all of the macho bravado bullshit. I want to teach him that being a man means you see women as your equals. Do not feel threatened by powerful women, learn from them. It is okay to feel and to cry. It is okay to love and to nurture. Use your strength to help and maybe even protect those who cannot help themselves. Move on from toxic people. Do not fall into the “boys will be boys” trap.  Own your failures and learn from them. Guard your character fiercely. Of course, this all comes out in the form of me being too easy on him. Again, I need to find that balance.

We’re raising good kids. People tell us this all of the time. It is nice to hear because most of the time we just feel like we’re fucking up. Being a parent is so hard. How much do you tell them? What should you do for them and what do you make them do for themselves? When do you let them fail and when do you step in and save them?  All of these questions and thoughts course through your brain at lightning speed when reprimanding, comforting and teaching. No wonder why parents are always exhausted! And things get more complicated when your children are mini versions of yourself!

Good Luck to all of the people out there raising strong, independent, respectful, loving, compassionate sons and daughters. Know that you are not alone, and hopefully our kids will be the positive change our world desperately needs.

 

When Is Enough, Enough?

3 Comments

I recently and repeatedly have had a very candid conversation with my kids about having a “cheap” summer. You know how it goes, “so, please do not ask for things every time we go to the store, do not ask me to take you expensive places, learn to entertain yourself, read a book, do some math, go outside, enjoy the pool, you have enough here…” It was during my third speech that I realized that I needed to have this conversation with myself. I have enough. I am enough.

My husband and I, (and I’m sure many others) walk through this life thinking we never have or are enough. We have talked about how we work so hard to have so little.  So little? Are we blind or just blinded by comparisons and perhaps a little jealousy? We, women especially, are conditioned to always think that they need to be more- more thin, more pretty, more put together, more intelligent, more successful….

There was a night long ago when I had to sit with my soon-to-be fiance and tell him that I may not be able to give him children. Fast forward a few years, we made two pretty awesome kids. There was a time when we had to look for a home and never thought we would find one or be able to afford one. We have a smallish, comfortable, welcoming, loving home. We did that all on our own.  No one helped us financially.  We weren’t able to live at home and save some money. Our parents were already taking care of our  younger siblings and  a couple of grand-kids. We have good jobs. We have transportation, food and clothes.  Our kids do not really want for anything. Do we have a summer home or a boat, or take extravagant vacations? Nope, but we certainly have enough.

I’m not saying to abandon all hopes and dreams of better or different things. I will have my farmer’s porch some day! I’m saying at some point and the sooner the better, we have to say enough is enough. Our mental health and self-worth depend on it.

I am enough. I am strong enough to live with RA and PCOS. When my house isn’t clean and I’m too sore to do much, I am enough. When I am overwhelmed at work, I am still an enough teacher. When I am overly frustrated and snap at my kids, I am still an enough mom. When I should be more attentive to my husband, I am still an enough wife. When I should be more appreciative of my family, I am still an enough daughter and sister. When I should be more present, I am still an enough friend.

And you, you are Enough!

enough.jpg

2 Comments

I work with students who have suffered all types of trauma.  Now, the disgusting policy of separating immigrant children and their parents has brought the impact of trauma to the forefront, a place I truly believe it should always be. Of course, I discuss the concept of trauma frequently at work.  This past week, was the first time, I related my autoimmune issues to the idea. I asked a colleague if they thought my diagnosis constitutes as trauma, to which she quickly responded, “Yes, it has changed the way you live, the way you think and it has impacted your family in the same ways.” It got me thinking.

The word trauma is derived from the Greek word for “wound.”  My dictionary defines trauma as a deeply distressing or disturbing experience. When presented like this, day to day life events could be considered traumatic.

The DSM defines trauma as, “A direct personal experience of an event that involves actual or threatened death or serious injury, or other threat to one’s physical integrity; or witnessing an event that involves death, injury, or a threat to the physical integrity of another person; or learning about an unexpected or violent death, serious harm, or threat of death or injury experienced by a family member or other close associate (APA, 2000, p. 463). The second prerequisite (A2) required that the survivor must have experienced “intense fear, helplessness, or horror” (p. 467) following the event. Clinicians and researchers have criticized both requirements (Breslau & Kessler, 2001; Friedman, Resick, Bryant, & Brewin, 2011).”

I have been “not feeling well” since 2015. I was officially diagnosed with Rheumatoid Arthritis eight months ago. During that brief time, I was prescribed plaquenil, sulfasalazine, three different dosages of methotrexate, numerous cycles of prednisone and now methotrexate injections.   My kids have watched me become less of myself. I have mourned what I thought my life was supposed to be like. My husband is angry, and as my protector wants to fix me. (I am well aware that as a woman, I do not require protecting nor fixing, but you can imagine the stress, heartache and sadness that he is dealing with as well.)  This chronic illness has had a direct personal impact to my physical and mental integrity.  My loved ones have borne witness to it.

There are days that I feel great! I have energy and little to no pain. There are other days that are just plain hard. This past Friday, was my first round of methotrexate injections. My husband called our friend, a nurse, so he could walk him through filling the syringe. It was a disaster.  He was nervous. I was scared and to be honest, pissed off.  There it was, this syringe filled with some odd yellowish colored liquid. It just looked like poison to me. It felt unnatural to be injecting something so foreign into my body. We took a deep breath and did it. Then I cried myself to sleep as he held my hand under the covers. It was just one more blow to my self ideal.

Skip ahead to today, Sunday. (I felt like a truck hit me on Saturday, but I sort of expected it.) I woke up a little more refreshed than usual. I found my walk to the bathroom not as painful. By noon, I had folded 2 loads of laundry and returned to the bathroom to actually clean it.  I was able to get down on my hands and knees and scrub places that haven’t been properly cleaned in months! When I am done writing this, I plan on doing the same in the downstairs bathroom as well. I know I may be a little sore tonight or tomorrow, and that will be okay.  Who knows how long this dose or medication will work. For now, I am just grateful for it

So let’s revisit whether or not a chronic illness can be considered trauma. I wholeheartedly believe the answer is yes. I understand that my life and body will never be the same. I know that I need to alter my way of performing some tasks, as well as change the way I think about things. The latter is categorically more difficult. It is not easy to modify and reshape your thoughts.  Wish me luck!

img_8309

 

 

Living With RA or Barely Surviving With RA

3 Comments

Let me break this down. I am not living with RA.  Some days I do not know if I am even surviving with RA. Last week, I had a little to medium size meltdown over questioning if I will ever regain range of motion in my left hip and be able to cut my toenails again. What if my very accommodating husband isn’t around and I need them clipped? Then last night as I struggled to limp to the bathroom for the 3rd time that night (the amount of water I need to drink to flush the meds out is ridiculous) I felt him offer me his arm as he clumsily appeared next to me, more than half asleep, and helped me into the bathroom.

And I was worried about clipping my toenails!!

As I struggled to get comfortable in my bed, it hit me.  And it hit me hard! There is a very real chance that I may become unable to care for myself.  I look to my almost 92 year old grandmother in awe and wonder if I will ever be able to be like her.  She lives alone and can take care of a lot of daily things by herself, and this is after puncturing her lung and breaking her back requiring steel rods.

I get up every morning and limp around my house while getting ready for work and getting the kids ready for school. I go to work, and for those who know what my job is like, you know how my days go. I come home and by 6:30/7:00, my body has pretty much quit for the day.  Friday nights I take methotrexate. Saturdays are spent dealing with some light nausea, headaches and some serious fatigue. Sundays are usually good! By Wednesday nights, I feel as if the methotrexate has left my body.  I have finally tapered off of prednisone after A LONG, LONG TIME of crazy mood swings, night sweats, and too many pounds gained.  I guess the next step is to up the methotrexate or switch to injections.

For months I have been mourning the person I used to be, and mourning the future I once dreamt of.  My best friend is a very spiritual, positive person. She has told me so many times that I get from the universe what I send out into it. It’s just so difficult to think positively and not be sad or feel cheated.   I cannot tell you how many times I have uttered the words, “I’m going to make some positive changes, I’m going to take better care of myself, I’m not going to worry so much.”  So far, I have not been very successful at achieving those things.  But, I want the future I planned on. I want to be able to enjoy my life and be present for my children and husband. I want to dance at my children’s weddings and walk the beach with my husband when we retire.  I do not want to cry every night thinking of what should have been.

So, any positive words of encouragement or wisdom you can send my way would be greatly appreciated.  And if you catch me being bitter or sad, tell me to knock it off!

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gyi3N-y-GM4&sns=em

It Has Begun

2 Comments

I took my first dose of Methotrexate last Friday night.  I woke up Saturday with a dull headache and some nausea.  I went to a mom’s night out and had a blast.  Rookie move.  I woke up Sunday and felt like a mack truck ran over me, backed up and ran over me again!

Monday morning brought a new sense of hope and a nice boost of energy.  I found myself walking around my classroom more. I went up and down our front steps like an adult instead of a shaky, unsure toddler learning how to navigate stairs.  I came home and remained in my clothes instead of immediately changing into my favorite pair of sweats and a hoodie.  I got my eyebrows waxed.  I went out after being home! I made dinner. I slept without taking a sleeping aid. Today, I’m tired.

Since I need to remain hydrated while on Methotrexate, I have increased my water intake.  This has me running to the bathroom every 15 minutes. (Sorry Leddy!) However, I think the Prednisone is holding onto some of it. I’ve noticed that my face is puffy and I’m feeling more bloated than usual. Fingers crossed that this changes soon, as I’m beginning to feel like Violet Beauregarde. violet_beauregarde_blueberry_ball_by_girard1020-db1ckkv

Now onto a more important topic.  Mom’s…I’m freaking the fuck out about Christmas! I have a few things for the girl kid, but nothing at all yet for the boy. He wants BIG things now.  I so want to be like the moms in Bad Moms. I want to relax this holiday season, but the micromanager in me won’t allow it. She’s tightened her grasp on my anxiety, and is holding on like her existence depends on it. In the back of my mind, I’m planning a first communion party and a summer vacation, crunching numbers and debating on selling a kidney while they both still work!

Why can’t I just not worry? The more stressed I get, the more my joints ache.  I have tried meditating, yoga, chamomile tea, CBD oil and nothing is helping me to relax and live in the moment. HELP ME!!!!!df414399b34c2356d43c9a9188374f2292ebffa3eb1f2e5122be08aff351d276

The saga continues.

ANSWERS!!

1 Comment

Okay, here’s the latest update for all of you following my saga.

In a little over a month, this new doctor has managed to do more than the previous two doctors did in two years.

Last night, my new doctor spent over an hour explaining the findings, answering both my husband’s and my questions, and discussing the treatment plan.

*No surgery as of right now!!

*Lumbar spinal injections and physical therapy after the holidays.  Endoscopy and colonoscopy also after the holidays.

*Continued prednisone while I start methotrexate this weekend for what she is calling “atypical Rheumatoid Arthritis.”

*Morning and nightly stretching routine.

I already struggle with hair loss due to my PCOS, so when she told me that may be a side effect of the methotrexate, I of course began to worry.  Don’t get me wrong.  Kidney damage and changes to my bone marrow are scary, but losing my hair is my greatest fear.  I have been taking a testosterone blocker for the past 2 years to help with my hormonal problems, and this has helped to slow down my hair loss. Now, I’m faced with it again. Why do so many medications have hair loss as a side effect? It’s super annoying!!

This isn’t an issue of vanity. Being a ginger has been a big part of who I am.  I have embraced my red hair, being the girl who stuck out. When you struggle with your body image you tend to focus on the parts of yourself that you actually like. I more than like my hair, even the stark white patches that are coming in around my temples. Will I still be me without my hair? Of course I will, but I feel like a part of me will be missing.

I guess I could always invest in some super cool wigs.

a814181030b3737eb359b0e7dc6f6954

Some Answers…More Questions

2 Comments

The new doctor turned out to be a lot more thorough than I would ever have expected. I initially thought that being seen almost 2 hours late was going to be a bad thing. She takes her time!

I also thought that copious amounts of blood work and 66 x-rays were excessive. However, the blood work ruled out lupus and the X-rays found an abnormality on my spine. I was then sent for an MRI to rule out cancer. It was a LONG week of waiting for the results. When you’re faced with a potential cancer diagnosis, your mind never shuts off but ironically you tend to walk through the days brainless.

We had just left my son’s 1st basketball game of the season and the team and Jake did awesome. I was happy. Then my doctor called as I was in the checkout line at Stop and Shop. I left my salad bar stuff and my family to go outside and hear the news. Thankfully she began the conversation with, “Colleen, you don’t have cancer. But you do have A LOT of things going on.” She proceeded to list more things than I can remember. After each diagnosis, she said, “and…” I don’t know if my ears stopped hearing or my brain stopped processing. I was so relieved that I didn’t have cancer, but now what. How do I even start to deal with everything she was saying.

“3 herniated discs, a slipped disc, fluid in a couple of vertebrae (inflammatory arthritis and some osteoarthritis) significant degenerative disc disease, two pinched nerves and some spinal stenosis. They also found a 6cm cyst on your ovary. We’ll talk Monday about where we go from here, but I’d like to start with some steroid injections in your spine.”

Umm…okay, thank you. It was all I could muster. I sat in the truck looking out at the street lights and just cried.

What. The. Fuck?!?

How am I mobile?

Is all of this on top of the inflammatory arthritis and fibromyalgia diagnoses?

Do I still need to inject methotrexate into myself as well.

Am I going to be able to exercise ever again?

Am I going to end up in a wheelchair?

I do not want to burden my family. I do not want to never be able to exercise and feel healthy again. I do not want surgery. I don’t want to have to keep relying on other people.

So here we are. I have a lot of questions and concerns. I know that I need to be patient with both my doctor and myself as we maneuver through this information and develop a treatment plan.

I am thankful for my new doctor and her persistence to find out what is causing my pain and swelling. I am thankful for my family, friends and bosses for being more than supportive. Thank you for your positive thoughts, prayers, texts, and phone calls. I am slowly making my way back into the land of the living.

What’s Going On?

3 Comments

I know that I have been posting a lot on Facebook about dealing with chronic illness and pain. Some people have been inquiring about what is happening with me.  Here’s my story so far.

I was injured at work in October of 2014.  A very astute orthopedist realized I was not healing the way I should and ran some blood tests.  My inflammation markers were through the roof.  Since then, I have seen 3 different rheumatologists, and have been diagnosed with 3 different types of arthritis and fibromyalgia.  All I know is that my immune system is attacking itself, but I have no idea why. I am in pain every day. Some days are better than others.  When I flare, I cannot walk, I cannot clean my house, I cannot help my kids, I cannot do my job effectively, I cannot be the mom I want to be.  I hate it.  Not being able to do for yourself is a terrible feeling.  Not being able to sleep affects all aspects of your life. Being in pain all of the time makes you MEAN and DEPRESSED. I long for the days when I was only dealing with my PCOS symptoms. I’m told, “exercise helps with arthritis.” However, every time I attempt to exercise, my ankle swells to 4x its normal size, then my knee blows up, only to be followed by my hip. Add to that the fibromyalgia symptoms-stabbing pains in my neck, shoulder and collarbone, and you have one miserable mom, wife, daughter, sister, friend, and teacher.

I’m not writing this for pity.  I’m writing so people understand why I usually turn down invitations to do things.  I’m writing so people do not just assume that I don’t want to attend my kids’ sporting events.  I’m writing so people don’t think that I’m just lazy.  This entire process has not only broken me, it has made me slow down, take time when I’m in pain, and make heartbreaking decisions in regards to missing out on a lot of things. I have to ask for help, a lot! I’m blessed to have so many amazing people in my life.  My husband has been functioning as a single dad for quite some time now.  He cooks, cleans, shops, and takes care of the kids.  My parents and father-in-law drive up from Charlestown on a regular basis.  My mom has cleaned my kitchen and made us dinners.  Our friends have taken our kids to and from school and sports, and have helped to keep my husband sane. My friends have listened to me complain, cry and throw pity parties for myself.

I’m not sure when or if I’ll ever know exactly what is going on.  I can only hope that some treatment plan is developed soon.  In the meantime, I’ll keep asking for help, I’ll keep being sad when I have to miss things, I’ll keep posting random things about chronic pain, and I’ll keep pushing forward. Please keep sending positive thoughts my way.

 

Just to offer some perspective. This is what I’ve been walking on for over 3 weeks.  The swelling is now in my knees and hips as well.

Something Just Like This

Leave a comment

I have been an absentee blogger, as usual.

Like everyone else on this planet, I have been busy.  I have been busy being a mom to two very active, sometimes overbooked kids.  I have been busy being a wife to a man who works too hard and too much. I have been busy being a teacher to a class of middle school students (no adjectives needed!) And I have been busy slowly slipping into the rut I now find myself in.  Whatever is going on with my autoimmune system and joints is seriously kicking my ass.

I did not really sleep all that well last night, but I decided to drive down to see my Nana today.  As the rain was coming down and the kids were yelling at one another about playing with some toy, “Something Just Like This” came on the radio.  I’ve been saying it’s my new favorite song for a couple of weeks now, but today, it felt different.

I have a full-time job, as does my husband. We have 2 kids, 2 dogs, 2 cats, 2 frogs and some fish.  We have conflicting schedules.  We have debt.  We have home repairs galore and no money to complete them.  We have cars that need fixing, tuition that needs paying, and groceries that need buying. On any given day, one or more of my joints may feel like they’re imploding. My new diagnosis is negatively impacting my older diagnosis, PCOS. My hormones are all over the place and my body doesn’t know whether it’s coming or going. Currently, my husband works nights and I work days.  We have baseball, track, soccer gymnastics, and drum lessons…this month!

I digress, but stick with me.  I promise that my rambling is somehow connected to my new favorite song.  My life is messy and tumultuous.  My house looks like a mini pet hair filled tornado sweeps through it daily.  My car looks like we live in it, because we kind of do. I’m sure that my family and friends feel neglected at times.  And, my brain is in a constant state of worry.

But…I love it all.  I love the chaos, the mess, the pain, the hugs, the tears, the giggles, the kisses, the arguments, the “I love yous,” the Something Just Like This.

 

Image result for something just like this quotes

 

My 2 Cents

1 Comment

I’m mostly writing this all out for myself. I need to wrap my head around some things.

I have been hearing and reading comments about the horrible women marching for abortion rights on 1/21. It saddens me to think that some people think that is what that march was about. It also angers me to hear people say, “your candidate lost, get over it.” 1/21/17 was not an anti-Trump march. It was not a bunch of winey women and men complaining about the president elect. The march was a call for unity and equality. It was to call attention to the slippery slope our country is currently heading down. A slope that the new leadership seems to be embracing and at times advocating.

It was a PEACEFUL demonstration telling the US government and the world that women’s health issues and decisions are their own, that homosexuals cannot be shocked into being straight, that all people deserve the right to marry, that science is real and our planet needs protection, that equal pay for equal work is a no brainer, and that there is no place for racism in our country. Men, women and children of all races, religions, ages, socioeconomic backgrounds, and nationalities joined together to make their voices heard.

I have a son and a daughter. They are both being raised to be accepting, kind, strong individuals. My son is being taught that boys and girls are equal. Girls are not viewed as things to look at, and acquire. My daughter is being taught the same. She can do and be whatever she wants and no one has the right to tell her otherwise. My children can defend themselves and others. They are kind. I hope they continue to live how they have been taught, and lead by example.

Trust me, I understand the frustration that comes from seeing illegal immigrants taking advantage of the welfare system. The same frustration happens when I see white Americans doing it. Does that mean all immigrants are free loaders or that the entire welfare system needs to be dismantled? Nope, it means some changes need to be made. Is the thought of terrorists committing violent acts a reality? It sure is, but it does not mean that every middle easterner is a member of ISIS. Does your religion say that abortion or certain methods of birth control are wrong? Maybe. But not everyone is a member of your religion. There is still a separation of church and state, and in the United States of America, all citizens are guaranteed equal rights.

So, this is my 2 cents. Do I think a man who thinks it’s okay to grab females by their genitalia should be president? Absolutely not. Do I think a man who thinks electrocuting homosexuals into being straight should be second in control of our great country? Again, not on your life. Do I think a woman who has zero experience with the public school system should be in charge of our national education system? Hell no. And this is why we march and this is why we make our voices heard. It’s not about difference of opinions. It’s about a fundamental lack of respect. It’s about people acquiring positions of power because of the amount of money they donated, or the connections they have. You can say you’re not a racist or a misogynist, yet not taking action against sexism and racism is saying you’re okay with it. You can say that as a female you’re content with watching more and more of what so many of our ancestors fought for, being slowly and systematically stolen. You can say that you’re not fearful for your daughters, and granddaughters, but I cannot say that.

So I will continue to question, and advocate, and fight, and post on social media. With all this being said, I do not hope that the president elect fails. I do hope that he listens to the millions of people in the United States and around the world and commands with integrity and respect for all.

img_1716