Old dog learning new tricks...

A couple of years ago I lost a big portion of my hair due to pancreatitis, malabsorption, and rapid weight loss. When it grew back, IT GREW IN CURLY. I've repeatedly joked with my hair dresser Jess that I am simply too old to have to relearn how to fix my hair. Because let me tell you, learning what to do with this curly mess on my head has taken a lot of learning and most days it still ends up in a ponytail.

I decided tonight that much like relearning to fix my hair, I am going to have to be purposeful in how I learn to love this new body of mine. I had no real issues with self-love when I weighed 300 pounds. I was confident, funny, wore what I wanted, and didn't really care what others thought of my body. I said things like "thick thighs save lives" (whatever that means) and I reveled in my thickness. And then I got sick. Really, really sick. And all of my doctors assured me that the way to feel better was to lose weight. So naturally, I did what a good portion of obese people in the United States are doing... I had a portion of my stomach removed and my insides rearranged, so that I could lose the weight that my doctors assured me was killing me.

And I lost. I lost ALL of the weight--plus some. I lost so much weight that my bariatric surgeon had to go back in and reverse a portion of my original weight loss surgery. I am now thinner than I was in middle school, and even though 'thin is in' and 'nothing tastes as good as skinny feels,' I spend a lot of days trapped in my mind and loathing my body. 

Part of this loathing comes from the fact that losing the weight didn't actually cause my body to miraculously heal itself from that which ailed me, but the other part of it is that in my brain curves and thickness are beautiful. And I am neither curvy, nor thick. You can do the math from there. Additionally, skinny kinda hurts in that there is no padding between my bones and whatever surface I'm sitting on. I also struggle with maintaining my body temps, so swimming has happened exactly once this summer. When I've posted that I am swimming, what I've really meant is that I've sat on the edge of the pool begging people not to splash me. And don't even get me started on how many calories I have to consume just to maintain skinny. I've long struggled with 'forgetting to eat,' but now when I do it I get called things like 'anorexic' whereas before people said 'well you can afford to skip a few meals.' (Yes, people really said that.) I cannot afford to forget to eat any longer and its kindof annoying. 

With that said, to aid in this mental shift that I am attempting, there has been much therapy, but I also did a photo shoot for a friend who was building her portfolio. And y'all she made me look damn sexy. (Am I allowed to say that about myself?) Some of the pictures show the flaws that I am insecure about (like my saggy butt), but even those are still beautiful. Jessica did a fabulous job of showing me what other people see. (If you want her contact information let me know.) And for some reason, that has helped me see myself in a different light. I still long for my curves, and my padding, but I am starting to feel a little more confident in the skin I'm in. I am learning, or relearning, to love my body. But it will take time, just like learning to love my curves took time. 

I wrote this poem a little while ago--I'm not actually a poet--I just threw some words on the paper and I'm calling it poetry. It needs some finessing, but it shows what my brain process has been like these last few months as I've watched the body that I knew and loved slip away only to be replaced by bony edges. 

Curves Not Edges

Real women have curves…

Curves are sexier than skeletons… 

Thick thighs save lives…

Bones are for the dog; meat is for the man…

Thick girls are made for cuddling… 

Curves are beautiful… 

When life throws you curves, embrace them…

The thicker the thighs the sweeter the prize…

Curves not edges. 

Eat a sandwich… 

Do you ever eat anything…

You’d look so much better if you put meat on your bones…

I can see your bones…

Men like girls with a little meat on them…

I wish I had your problem…

Men love having something to hang onto…

Edges not curves.

Nothing tastes as good as curvy feels. 

Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels.

Which is it? Can it be both?

Curves and edges. 

Edges not curves

I grew up in a family of curvy women. And while my mom & grandma were never not on a diet of some sort, I learned that curves were to be celebrated. 

In high school & beyond I dated men that celebrated curves, much like society still does. ‘Dat ass tho’... something I hear frequently from the men around me. A celebration of curves. ‘Damn, she has a nice rack’... another celebration of curves. ‘Thick thighs save lives’...another celebration of curves. 

I no longer have curves. I have edges where my bones stick out. If you rub your fingers along my back you can count my ribs & each vertebra. Edges not curves.

I look angry all the time, because my edges can be seen in my face. Faces need curves to look happy to the general public. Edges not curves. 

My once voluptuous breasts fit nicely in a tank with a shelf bra. There may be an A cup of tissue left. When his hands grasp them his fingers can feel the edges behind my breasts. When I lay flat, my ribs and sternum stick up higher than my breasts as they become virtually nonexistent. Edges not curves. 

My once thick thighs no longer touch. Even when I flex, they do not touch. I will save no ones life with my thighs. Edges not curves. 

My ass is deflated. In its place are edges that shouldn’t be seen. My sacrum, my hip bones, my pelvis—edges that can be seen when I stand in front of the mirror after showering. Edges not curves. 

My husband doesn’t know this body, as he’s afraid he might break me when he grabs hold. He prefers curves and not edges. 

I do not know this body in which I reside. I do not like my edges. I miss my curves. 

Edges not curves. 

As my friend Dr. Laura  Ellingston reminded me this week, we should practice self-care, and kindness, even when failing. (Read her blog here: https://realisticallyeverafter.blog/2018/06/26/failing-better/ )

I’m currently really, really trying to be kind to myself and blogs like above and images like below help. 

Many of you know my struggles with being unable to stop my weight loss. While 

the topic is gtongue in cheek funny, and lots of 

people have said they wish they had my problem, what I know is that they really, really don’t want the problems I’ve had. For reference, I am almost 5’6”. At my prime, when I was healthy, full of muscle, with an 18 year old’s metabolism, I was 145, and a size 6-8. At my lowest weight, when I got home from my revision surgery, I weighed 113.3–At almost 5’6,” after having two children, after months of physical therapy to regain muscle, and strength, and at the age of 42, I weigh less than I did in late elementary school. 

The reality is that even though my BMI was fine, I had spent months being malnourished because of malabsorption. I was by medical definition wasting away, and the Internist who saw me in the hospital had a lot of words for me. I’ve lost muscle mass & tone, even in the midst of physical therapy, my skin was off colored, my eyes sunken, with bones protruding in ways that are comparable to cancer patients. But a lesser known issue with malnourishment for a long period of time is how it affects your brain.  

Our brains need fat, protein, carbs, and vitamins to work. All of the things I’ve been excessively malabsorbing for months. And let’s be honest here, my brain and I already struggle with getting along, because of the whole ADHD thing. But for months, and months, my brain has been starving, and it’s affected my brain functioning in ways I am only beginning to realize. 

According to these guys, (https://www.omicsonline.org/open-access/protein-malnutrition-and-brain-development-2168-975X-1000171.php?aid=55936) malnourishment can cause multiple brain function issues, and as I read through the symptoms I have realized that these symptoms were 100% affecting my abilities to be a wife, a mother, a friend, a teacher, but more importantly a grad student. 

As I read, I had tears streaming, because I just realized that maybe now I can actually finish school, because for the last 6 months I’ve daily thought I wasn’t smart enough to do this. I’ve beat myself up over missed deadlines, forgotten appointments, an inability to even read a journal article and annotate, but none of this is my fault & I need to be kind. 

I am absorbing more food since my revision surgery. I am not vomiting or running to the bathroom. I am holding onto food longer. But more importantly, over the last couple of days I feel like I’ve woken up from some type of brain fog that I didn’t know I was in. I can think again. I can read words, and understand them again. 

So if you’ve watched my journey & have thought ‘she’s just making excuses—get your shit done,’ or even said it to my face, just know that I’ve seen you and I hear you, and my ability to think is back, so you may want to steer clear from me for but, lest you get a tongue lashing. 

If you’ve watched and been supportive. I see you too, and I can never express my gratitude enough. 

I have edits to complete, grading to do, and a prospectus to write, and in the first time in at least 6 months I am positive that I can get this done before my advisor goes on sabbatical for the fall. 

I guess what I want to leave you with today, is to remind yourself that in the midst of chronic illness you must be kind to yourself. The opposite accomplished nothing. 

I feel like I start a lot of my blogs with "oh it's been a while," as if I don't write daily about our lives, but this blog does often get pushed to the back burner as it requires more thought and more words. I have many things I would like to sit down and focus on, but my distracted brain and lack of time management is going to be the death of me. I thought maybe if I made a todo list of some sort I could have my friends help me to stay accountable, so here goes:

1. Edits. Due next week, so I really should get that done.

but while I'm procrastinating those,

2. ICQI reflection specifically regarding how even in academic conferences where WE SHOULD KNOW BETTER ableism runs rampant.
3. Journal article with Erin about invisible illnesses.
4. Journal article with Cody about enactments of medications on our bodies.
5. More blogging, reading, etc., and less facebooking.

Things I'm processing:
1. Introversion vs extroversion in relationships?
2. What does disabled mean when you are medically disabled, but not legally disabled?
3. How much do I hovercraft parent and how much do I push for independence?

Sigh. Lunch. Meeting with a student. And then EDITSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

Low Spoon Balance and Gluten Free Foods...

Life with multiple chronic illnesses means learning how to save spoons wherever I can. One way that we've done that in our house is to eat a lot of convenience foods, order in, or go out to eat, because by 3pm my husband I are spent. In addition to having limited spoons by dinner time, my host of illnesses and surgeries requires very specific eating habits and I'm constantly fighting a battle to eat things that won't make me sick.

Let me explain, my bariatric surgery requires me to eat 70-90 grams of protein a day, 50-100 grams of fat, and less than 50 grams of carbs a day. Veggies, sugar, and carbs are on the list of gas causing items that I should avoid. And let me just say that the gas pains aren't your normal gas pains... these pains are like someone is taking a knife and stabbing my abdomen, so avoiding veggies seems like common sense. I already ate like that before my bariatric surgery, so it wasn't a big deal when I was told that my diet needed to basically consist of meat and cheese. But then my pancreas crapped out, and the diet for chronic pancreatitis is mostly carbs, fruits, veggies, and lean protein. I have mostly managed to find a happy medium between the two ways of eating, by drinking my protein, and eating chicken fajita tacos and all of the carbs. It has literally taken me a year to find enough foods that I can eat that don't piss my pancreas off, and also don't make me miserable.

Because I am currently osteopenic and not absorbing vitamin d and calcium, my doctors (4 of the 6) decided I needed to be gluten free. My bio mom has celiacs, and I'm basically having ALL of the symptoms, so I get it. I really do. But... I'm not sure how to be gluten free when veggies and fruits cause massive amounts of gas, my pancreas cannot handle a lot of meat, and I am the world's pickiest eater. I don't like sauces, specifically things like ranch, sour cream, Alfredo sauce, etc. I can't eat tomato sauce, because it's one of the things my pancreas doesn't like. Anything that has the hint of a sharp flavor, or bitterness (I'm looking at you veggies), are also avoided. Cilantro tastes like soap, so I assume my tastebuds are just stupid. I do eat more flavors than I ever have before, but I definitely have some texture and taste issues, and some serious food anxiety. I mean, wouldn't you have food anxiety if everything you ate had the potential to cause you to vomit or have severe pain? And I do mean everything.

And yes, to a certain extent I know I need to just suck it up and eat, but the amount of emotional energy that comes from trying new foods rapidly depletes my spoon balance. Thinking about what to eat, worrying about how it will affect my pancreas, or my stomach, also takes a lot of spoons. Preparing foods that potentially will go uneaten by everyone except the husband, takes spoons. Grocery shopping and reading ALL of the labels takes spoons. Spoons I simply don't have.

My instinct is to just replace all of my convenience foods with the gluten free version, but truthfully, that is more than my grad student budget can take, and I've heard that the foods will make me gain weight anyway, so I probably need to avoid them. My friends are being kind and giving me suggestions of foods they like, but most of them do not fit into either my bariatric diet or my pancreatic diet.

And because I'm already stressed to the max with grad school, my health, and my children, I find myself just choosing not to eat, rather than fight the battle of trying to find foods I can eat, and will enjoy.

And that's not healthy either.

Sigh. I'm honestly not sure how to have chronic illnesses, a low spoon balance, and so many different dietary challenges. I'm 100% certain that I'm not going to be able to maintain gluten free without pissing my pancreas off, killing our grocery budget, and a lot of wasted foods because I didn't like something we tried that fit into my diet.

I am open to suggestions. Someone in my friend network has had to have been able to overcome texture issues to eat veggies, or has some magic cure for the gas pains that come with eating fruits and veggies, right?

I guess at this point I should just be happy that I wasn't told to give up dairy as well...

Gender & Disability...

There are simply no good words to describe my frustration with the medical system, right now. I went to the ER to get answers and got treated like a criminal looking for my next fix. I promise you, if I wanted to get drugs I have the hookups and have access to all of the things, which is ironic because I've never actually done drugs. I've spent years watching family members spiral out of control from pills, heroin, etc. that I have never been interested in abusing these things. There is only one drug that I would even consider it, and that is only because it is legal in other states, and there is tons of research about pain relief and cannibus.  And let's face it, pain sucks. When it was just degenerative discs and fibro, I could manage, but the added layer of pancreatic pain leaves me spent, and unable to focus. 

Along with being frustrated about being treated like a drug addict, I am equally frustrated that I left the ER with absolutely NO FREAKING ANSWERS. None. There were possible diagnoses on the CT scan, but only one of my doctors seems to be concerned about that. <eye roll> 

I've been reading journal articles regarding gender and illness over the last month, and I've come to the conclusion that the field of medicine is mysogynistic. I know, shocking right? 

But scientific research is focused on the male body, and not the females. 

Last I checked, my 160 pound female body reacts differently than any males that I know in regards to medicine. And why wouldn't it? I mean, besides the fact that my mass is smaller than the average males', the male body and the female body are quite different. Yeah, we all have 2 arms, 2 legs, etc., but our hormonal makeup and metabolism are different. Hence why Jasen can start a diet and lose 20 pounds over night and I could start the same diet and gain 20. So if we metabolize our meals differently, wouldn't we also metabolize medicines differently? 

Additionally, when research is done, it is assumed by the scientific world and the popular press that it can be applied in mass to people of all race, ethnicity, and gender. For example, how many of you know the differences between the symptoms of a male heart attack and a female heart attack? There are differences. Look for yourself: http://www.mayoclinic.org/diseases-conditions/heart-disease/in-depth/heart-disease/art-20046167 and see. What? Women experience a heart attack differently than men? Who'd a thunk it? Sigh.

Another difference that I have noticed is that although 1 in 5 adults will experience a debilitating illness that will forever alter their life, women are especially prone to disability with at least half of women being disabled by the time they reach 65, but there are little answers to be found for the conditions that cause disability in women and even less research into women of color and their health.  For example, fibromyalgia has been around for ages, but it wasn't until the 90's that the American College of Rheumatology included a specific set of guidelines, and even now I have had a doctor and a physical therapist both imply that my pain was all in my head. <hard core eye roll> There is little research about the causes of fibromyalgia, but I sure can find oodles of research into the causes of erectile dysfunction. 

In light of everything happening politically in our country, I am not hopeful that any of this will change, but I wanted to put the information out there, so that regular folks can understand just one of the struggles for women with chronic illnesses. If I cannot find research on my specific illnesses, how am I supposed to manage them? If the research that is out there is all about the white male body, how am I supposed to know how medications will affect my female body? If the symptoms put out into the world are really only the symptoms for the male body, how are women supposed to know what their body is doing? If illnesses that are typically female are under-researched or un-researched, how the hell are women supposed to fight against illness? 

Having multiple chronic illnesses is frustrating, and exhausting. I'm tired. I want answers. 

Life with chronic illness...

Watch this first: https://www.facebook.com/ChronicIllnessOnThemighty/videos/1405166782838399/ 

Real talk ahead. Not whining. Just shooting straight. 

This video is my new normal...I do great at short trips & I'm doing better about longer days, but by long I mean 4pm. The trip to six flags took 4 muscle relaxers, 6 pain pills, an Ativan, and countless park benches--But I go for my family. The kids ride & Jasen & I move from park bench to park bench. The doctors tell me that the walking around is good for me, and my pain should be better with movement--they lie. 

I want desperately to be old me...the one that was constantly going & could live off of 5 hrs sleep. The one who could turn up in the club until 2am and then house party after. The one who could do all of that and still wake up and fix my hair & makeup. The one who could ALWAYS be counted on to keep conversation going, and had all of the friends. 

Speaking of hair & makeup...the decision to stop wearing makeup isn't some feminist choice. It's because I literally just can't. I can't fix my hair like I want, because I can't keep my arms raised high for that long. And since my hair looks like I rolled out of bed most days, why bother with makeup? I look at pictures prefibro, and long for days when I looked put together. 

And the brain fog--dear god. I'm about a year from having a PhD & I forget where I'm going & why at least 4 times a week. I text Jasen to ask for words that I can't remember. I reword sentences because I can't think of the word I need & spelling...don't even get me started. I'm ashamed when I use the wrong word, or spell something incorrectly, because I almost have a PhD, and shouldn't be this dumb. (I'm much more patient with others who misspell than I am with myself.) 

And while everyone is cheering on my weightloss, the truth is that I'm terrified every time I lose another pound (like this morning) because I should not be losing still. Seriously. I eat ALL of the crap, I should not be losing, but I am, because my pancreas causes malabsorption, and my bariatric surgery causes malabsorption. The people on the CP boards are terrifying to look at, and I don't want to look like them...so every pound lost is one pound closer. 

I make plans that I then have to cancel, because my body just can't do it. The people I hang out with the most are also chronic illness sufferers (in many different forms) because I've found that they get it in ways that healthy people don't. I know that I can text these people & say just kidding--my body sucks--and their feelings won't be hurt. I know that I can request that we chill at my house in our pjs, and they are cool with that too, because they too didn't want to get dressed. If I've invited you into my inner circle, it's because I've observed compassion and understanding from you.

And that snake oil you are selling...oh how I want it to work. I deeply desire an oil that will make my anxiety less, a drink that will clear my brain fog, a patch that will ease my pain. I would bankrupt us trying all of the things, but my doctors don't allow it, because any added product has the potential to counteract with my medications and cause organ failure. 

And speaking of bankruptcy... I want nothing more than to work a full-time job so we aren't living week to week. I want to pay bills without hoping there's money left for groceries. I'm honestly not sure I will ever work a full time job again. Not because I don't desperately want to, but because my body simply can't. There's a chance that I will finish my degree, and never be able to use it, as my body continues to fail me, and I continue to add diagnoses to my list. Every appointment, every new specialist, adds to my list and increases the daily anxiety I have about my body. 

I am reminded of Maya Angelou's poetry when I think of my life--"And still I rise." Although she was writing in regards to race, it seems applicable to life with chronic illness. I could lay in my bed drowning in the misery of chronic illness, but I choose not to---I choose to rise. I put one foot in front of the other, I celebrate my successes, I do my best not to drown in the anxiety and fear of how my body will betray me next. I rise. 

This is my new normal.