Neurotic. OCD. Anal. Crazy. All are words that have been used, by myself and others, to describe me. What people don't understand is that my neuroses keep me sane. They allow me to have some control in a world that seems to be controlling me. Being organized keeps me sane. Arriving on time keeps me sane. Hanging my clothes the same direction in the closet keeps me sane. And, yes, using coasters keeps me sane!! I make lists, I check off completed tasks, I use spreadsheets (oh, how I love spreadsheets!) and I label my file folders.
My project this week, between migraines, has been organizing bridesmaid dresses. I have been comparing website photos to actual photos of me and/or my friend wearing the dress. Then I enter the style numbers into a spreadsheet (did I mention I love spreadsheets?!) and give them a rating indicating my preference towards each dress. I'm sure many of you would consider working on an excel spreadsheet on a Friday night to be extremely boring. But it works for me. It's a task that I'm good at. There is no (immediate) deadline. And I can start and stop when I need to in order to accommodate my headaches, which are something I seem to have less and less control over.
While feeling the "need" to control things can lead to addiction, eating disorders and the like, I think I'm far from an A&E reality show. I used to have a job where I managed people, schedules and inventory. I loved that job because I was good at it. I believe the world needs people like me just as the world needs calm, laid back people and people who are disorganized and always running late.
I fully admit to being "OCD" but you might be surprised to know that I don't balance my checkbook (online banking is awesome!) and sometimes I don't separate the whites from the darks. So far, I haven't turned any of Jason's underwear pink. :-)
Friday, June 18, 2010
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
I Need Answers
As I'm laying on the couch coming out of what was a very debilitating headache, I'm feeling very guilty, pitiful and sad. I had two doctor's appointments and a pool date with a friend on the agenda for today, all of which had to be canceled. I'm used to feeling guilty when I have to break commitments but that doesn't make it any easier. My friends and family can only take so much disappointment. If I continue to let them down, I'm afraid they will leave. In some ironic way, I also feel guilty for my self-pity. I want to be, need to be, stronger. And then there is the sadness. Knowing that another day of my life has gone by with me stuck on the couch brings tears to my eyes.
I've always tried to believe that God doesn't give anyone more than they can handle. My brother, my mom and a friend with a...complicated...baby are a testament to that notion. Their strength and resilience are amazing. In no way does my struggle compare to what they are dealing with, or have been dealing with for 25 years. Why then, am I feeling as though my situation is more than I can bear? Why do I feel like I have run out of energy to continue to the fight? Why does it seem that God has given me too much?
I truly am at a loss as to what to do now. Just thinking of all the time and energy I've put in to this "getting better" mission is exhausting enough. Finding the strength to keep going seems impossible. How am I supposed to go to therapy and doctor's appointments if I can't even get out of bed? How can I get better if I can't physically do the things that are supposed to help? I'm confused by this conundrum. Why has God shown me the tools but put them just out of my reach? What am I doing wrong?
I've always tried to believe that God doesn't give anyone more than they can handle. My brother, my mom and a friend with a...complicated...baby are a testament to that notion. Their strength and resilience are amazing. In no way does my struggle compare to what they are dealing with, or have been dealing with for 25 years. Why then, am I feeling as though my situation is more than I can bear? Why do I feel like I have run out of energy to continue to the fight? Why does it seem that God has given me too much?
I truly am at a loss as to what to do now. Just thinking of all the time and energy I've put in to this "getting better" mission is exhausting enough. Finding the strength to keep going seems impossible. How am I supposed to go to therapy and doctor's appointments if I can't even get out of bed? How can I get better if I can't physically do the things that are supposed to help? I'm confused by this conundrum. Why has God shown me the tools but put them just out of my reach? What am I doing wrong?
Monday, June 14, 2010
Whadaya Want From Me?!
That's exactly what my doctor asked me today. And not in a how-can-I-make-your-day better tone. It was much more condescending and had a very large hint of how-could-you-even-be-asking-me-that. Coming from a doctor that treats headaches and has been my headache doctor for a year and a half, I was very put off. I almost cried...but didn't.
I literally put in hours of preparation before I go to any doctor appointment in order to organize what has taken place since I last saw that particular doctor. It also allows me to sum up the really important stuff since, in my experience, most of them don't have (or take) the time to read all the information they request from the other doctors. Information that I have to pay (yes, pay money!) to have transfered. I keep a very detailed diary with all sorts of symbols, notations and highlights that describes just about everything I do, feel and think every day. Today I spent over an hour working on a time line of events, all taken from the diary, which included when I started or stopped medicines, when certain symptoms came or went and when I noticed any major medical changes. My effort was recipricated with questions like "how do you know this is happening?" and "why are you concerned about this?" Really?!
Anyway, what I want from you, Mr. Doctor, is compassion for a patient that has been struggling as long as I have. I want you to acknowledge that what I'm experiencing is real and that there is a reason behind it. If necessary, I want you to admit that you may not know what that reason is. I want honesty--if you can't treat me any longer, please say so and refer me to someone else. I want professional treatment, the same treatment you would (hopefully) give any other patient. I want to know that there are other avenues I can explore. I want the reassurance that I am not a lost cause. Mostly, I want a little bit of hope.
I literally put in hours of preparation before I go to any doctor appointment in order to organize what has taken place since I last saw that particular doctor. It also allows me to sum up the really important stuff since, in my experience, most of them don't have (or take) the time to read all the information they request from the other doctors. Information that I have to pay (yes, pay money!) to have transfered. I keep a very detailed diary with all sorts of symbols, notations and highlights that describes just about everything I do, feel and think every day. Today I spent over an hour working on a time line of events, all taken from the diary, which included when I started or stopped medicines, when certain symptoms came or went and when I noticed any major medical changes. My effort was recipricated with questions like "how do you know this is happening?" and "why are you concerned about this?" Really?!
Anyway, what I want from you, Mr. Doctor, is compassion for a patient that has been struggling as long as I have. I want you to acknowledge that what I'm experiencing is real and that there is a reason behind it. If necessary, I want you to admit that you may not know what that reason is. I want honesty--if you can't treat me any longer, please say so and refer me to someone else. I want professional treatment, the same treatment you would (hopefully) give any other patient. I want to know that there are other avenues I can explore. I want the reassurance that I am not a lost cause. Mostly, I want a little bit of hope.
Friday, June 4, 2010
It's All In Your Head
Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that, I'd be a millionaire! Well, at least well into six figures. The ironic part is that it's true. It is all in my head--that's why they call it a HEAD-ache! Sometimes though, I wonder. Am I really having an aura right now or are my eyes just tired? Is the pain as debilitating as it seems or am I more functional than I think? Even after two plus years of never-ending headaches, I still ask myself these questions. Maybe I do so because I'm hoping that I'm wrong although deep inside I know I'm right.
Migraine headaches are an odd ailment to deal with. The pain they cause is indescribable, especially to those who have never had a headache, let alone a migraine. These headaches are not like cancer or MS or diabetes where the effects of the disease, or the treatment (or both) is obvious. Most of the time, other people cannot tell when I'm in the middle of a headache because I've become so good disguising it. Good enough to be semi-functional, anyway. My headaches are complex and always changing, which makes it very difficult to describe what I'm feeling to the doctors and specialists who are treating me. If they can't understand, how can I expect my friends and family to understand? How can I prove to them that it's not all in my head, that I'm not making it up? Some times even the doctors tell me that I'm over-reacting. But they are wrong. The pain is real. The blurred vision is real. The guilt and depression that come with being stuck in bed for days are very very real.
Migraine headaches are an odd ailment to deal with. The pain they cause is indescribable, especially to those who have never had a headache, let alone a migraine. These headaches are not like cancer or MS or diabetes where the effects of the disease, or the treatment (or both) is obvious. Most of the time, other people cannot tell when I'm in the middle of a headache because I've become so good disguising it. Good enough to be semi-functional, anyway. My headaches are complex and always changing, which makes it very difficult to describe what I'm feeling to the doctors and specialists who are treating me. If they can't understand, how can I expect my friends and family to understand? How can I prove to them that it's not all in my head, that I'm not making it up? Some times even the doctors tell me that I'm over-reacting. But they are wrong. The pain is real. The blurred vision is real. The guilt and depression that come with being stuck in bed for days are very very real.
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