Tag: chronic illness

Invisible Quivers

A Girl In A Complex World

Like stones thrown into a lake, trauma creates ripples in the water that change not only its still, glassy surface but reverberate all the way through its flourishing ecosystems underneath. These microscopic quivers are often invisible, but present nonetheless—settling into the bones, minds, and memories of every survivor who’s known them.

When these ripples are born from multiple traumatic experiences, they can collide into chaos or build upon each other in strength – powerfully reshaping the ways a survivor sees themselves and the world around them. They can shift how one experiences their body, pain, touch, and even comfort; how they interpret and respond to danger, intense emotions, relationships, sensory input, and subtle reminders of that trauma; and how they’re seen by others. It can be difficult to disentangle the natural ebb and flow of the water’s currents from the ripples made from a downpour of stones.

Despite all the waves and wreckage, just as a lake remains beautiful, inviting, and a calm respite to all who wish to visit, survivors retain their beauty and resilience in spite of their trauma. Their healing isn’t about how quickly they can return to serene stillness after all that rocky hail, but in recognizing the unseen tremblings underneath, and finding ways to create harmony in concert with their movement. To those on the water’s edge, just as we respect nature’s quiet endurance, we should offer the same respect to those who’ve experienced trauma—tossing fewer stones and perhaps adding a few more reeds to ease a quivering shoreline.

💦💙🐟

(Author Unknown)

We Will Make It Through December

A Girl In A Complex World

There have been many moments lately where I have hidden in my bathroom because life has become too heavy to bear. I wonder if I will ever get the chance to just be myself again. Everything has gotten so complicated lately.

The things that are necessary to be happy are currently not present. I am exhausted, in more ways than one. But I’m still getting up and crawling my way through each day.

Sometimes I squeeze my eyes shut and block everything out to remind myself that I’m human and to breathe. I am trying to teach myself that it’s ok to take a break.

It’s also ok to indulge yourself with whatever sliver of happiness you can find that will help strengthen and recharge you. Whether you make a cup of your favorite tea and sit by the Christmas tree as you drink it, go for a walk, or throw a ball around in the backyard with your dog. If it satisfies even the smallest part of you, it’s worth the effort.

December is a hard month for a lot of ppl. Myself included. Its going to be very easy to get swept up and completely lose ourselves over the next few weeks. So from one struggling human to another …

You can do this. WE can do this! Take a breath. Then another. Drink some water and get some sleep. Then do the next thing.  We will make it through December!

My Own Worst Enemy

A Girl In A Complex World
Me and Zoey

After spending the last month in hospital on a psych unit, I’m in my own home tonight. I thought often of writing about my experiences while I was there but each time I would just stare at the blank screen and think things like …

Who really wants to hear about a hospital, much less a psyc unit full of crazy ppl?

What if I’m oversharing?

What if ppl start to look at me as a crazy person now?

Someone who knows me in real life might recognize me and then everyone in town will know things about me and will never look at me the same way again.

You get the idea. So I have not written anything in a month. I’ve kept myself locked up and silenced because of shame.
Well, you know what? Screw everybody! I don’t care what ppl think!

Me and Buddy

Sorry, that’s not very nice of me. I don’t mean that. I really do care what ppl think. I care too much. That’s the problem.

I need to be a little selfish and think of myself sometimes. Particularly about writing. I love to write but I’m so focused on other ppl and what they think that it prevents me from genuinely expressing myself, both in real life and online. I want to work on changing that. I want to write from my heart. I want to be genuine and honest and tell things the way I want to tell them, without shame.

I just want to relax a bit and be myself. I want to let go of the shame and judgment. I truly am my own worst enemy.

Me and David

How I Ended Up In The Psyc Ward

A Girl In A Complex World

It all started when I went for my regular Ketamine infusion, which is part of my treatment for Complex Regional Pain Syndrome.

Felicia, the head nurse, asked if I was doing ok. She said I wasn’t looking like myself and that I was pale. I said I was good and that was all that was said. 



I remember lying back on the stretcher while they prepped me, putting heart monitoring stickers on my chest, attaching a BP cuff to my arm, oxygen in my nose … I was shivering and could feel tears running down from the corners of my eyes but i had no emotions. It was strange because that doesn’t usually happen. They took my hand to start an IV and I heard a faint voice in my head whispering – don’t touch me.

I remember turning my head to the side and just letting myself drift away. Don’t have any more memories about the treatment than that.

Once the infusion was done they wanted to talk to David. Felicia asked him how I’ve been doing lately. David later told me that he told her I’ve been purging a lot, that I’ve been quite depressed and that he’s been worried. Apparently she told him that I’m not looking well. That I was pale, my eyes were dark, and my lips were almost grey.

I was awake, my eyes were open, but I was non-responsive. My neck and head were spasming and I was staring off with no reaction when someone spoke or touched me. So they decided to keep me an extra hour to give me more fluids and more time to let the meds wear off. David asked if they felt I had taken anything and she said no because my vitals were all good. But they did bloodwork just to be sure. 

An hour later Felicia called David back in and told him that he needs to take me to the ER. Apparently I had been mumbling some things that no one could really pick out but Felicia had heard me say something about this being the end and it was almost time to die …. I don’t remember any of that. I’m just telling what I was told. 

So they put me in a wheelchair and David registered me in the ER, where I sat/slumped for 9 hours. David said I kept falling to the side as if I couldn’t hold myself up. He had to ask for a pillow and blanket to put around me to secure me a bit. He said I was in a completely different world.

Then they called us in to a small room that had nothing but 2 chairs bolted to the floor. And that’s where I spent the next 26 hours. It was nothing short of brutal.

Tears are burning my eyes now as I write that. I think it’s cruel how this was handled. They took me from the OR after having a procedure done and forced me to sit up on hard seats for a total of 36 hours. I was hallucinating. I was in terrible pain and developed a migraine. Had multiple bouts of vomiting. And I started experiencing opiate withdrawal because after I took my meds Thursday morning, I wasn’t given anything until Friday night. By that time I had missed 6 doses of morphine. It was torture.

David had to leave at one point. We had taken our dogs with us that morning. So David spent the entire day going from me in the hospital to the dogs in the car. He’d switch every hour. Take them for a walk, a drink, get them a snack then settle them in the car again before coming back in with me. But they couldn’t do that all night. So around 10pm he spoke to the staff. They assured him that I would be in safe hands and would be looked after so he left to go home with the dogs. Just before he left, he brought me in Zoey’s blanket from the car because he’d been asking for a blanket for me for 2 hrs with no luck. So I just kinda dozed off, sitting up in the chair, with Zoey’s blanket over me.

At one point I started to be more alert and I was really confused. I needed to use the bathroom but there wasn’t one so I left the room and just wandered around a bit. I went to the nurse’s station and asked if there was a bathroom and he said down the hall on the right. I roamed the hospital for a while. Took the elevator a few times, and eventually made my way back to that room. I called David, upset, wanting to know what was going on. When he realized that I was still there in that room – alone, he drove back to Grand Falls again at 4am. In the meantime, while hyperventilating and being trapped in that space with the chairs bolted to the floor, I clawed/scratched/cut my neck. 

David came, and he channeled his anger into fighting for me. He took me outside for some air then went and found a vending machine and got me a sandwich and water. I hadn’t had anything since 7am the previous day. Thankfully there was one nurse there on Friday that had a bit of respect and showed some compassion. She even gave me a little bit of her on personal toothpaste so I could brush my teeth. No one gave me a breakfast tray but she made sure there was one for me by lunch time. And she also contacted the necessary ppl to get my meds ordered. 

Then my psychiatrist came. It was still another long painful day sitting in that chair but by Friday evening I was admitted to the psyc unit.



And I’m still here. I am much more stable than I was over 2 weeks ago but still have a ways to go. Have no idea what is going to come out of this.

The Storm Has Destroyed Me … Again

A Girl In A Complex World

Did you know that butterflies don’t fly when it’s raining? Their wings are incredibly delicate and the raindrops would be damaging.

So they rest. They wait it out. Its self-preservation.

So it’s ok to rest when things get stormy in our lives. It’s ok to take whatever time we need to recharge. It doesn’t make you lazy, worthless, or ineffective. It’s a necessary part of life.

Unfortunately, this is a life lesson that I have struggled with tremendously. I developed a belief that resting, apart from nighttime sleep, is not ok and it does nothing more than make me ineffective. I’ve battled with great amounts of guilt and shame when I have been forced to stop ‘doing’ and must simply ‘be’.

Life has been pretty intense the past couple of weeks. Lots of family drama has been stirred up and old hurts have resurfaced. Loved ones are unwell, both physically and mentally, and my presence was needed. There were birthday celebrations for a very special little girl and there’s been some long hours spent traveling. On top of that, I lost a girl friend. Not by death, but through mutual agreement. Neither of us is good at communicating things with each other when we struggle with things in life and it has resulted in some deep hurt. While we (and our spouses) have agreed to remain civil, as community involvement will sometimes cause us to be together, we’ve agreed to go with no contact from here on.

It’s been pretty stormy.

And I have done an extremely poor job at this self-preservation thing. Unlike the butterfly, I have not taken steps to protect myself. And as a result, I find myself bedridden today. My body said enough is enough. CRPS (Complex Regional Pain Syndrome) is attacking my neck and shoulders, the majority of my spine, and both of my lower legs. Burning, throbbing, electric sensations are rapidly firing. My legs buckle beneath me when I attempt to stand, refusing to continue carrying me. I cannot feel the floor beneath my feet yet sensations of broken glass trapped in my socks are making it difficult to even breathe.

It’s pouring rain here today. The storm has destroyed my wings. And once again I find myself in a state of forced rest. Will I ever learn?