I thought I had it under control. I didn’t think I was letting it take over my body or my life. Turns out I was stifling and stuffing all along. Stress will kill you much faster than you’d choose to die. I see it in […]
The worst part of being a girl; the part that brings shame, snide remarks and uncomfortable glances...
(even though it shouldn’t)
...when we talk about it; a highly misunderstood and rejected part of being a human female - Menstruation.
This monthly cycle of pleasantries always comes with excruciating symptoms like stabbing, throbbing, burning gremlins of terror that shred apart my midsection and send razor sharp shooting pain up and down my legs. Overwhelming me with the urge to vomit. They use their saw like talons teetering back and forth from spine to navel. The gremlins laugh and dance on my entrails, as they launch the disemboweled remains of me through my pelvic cavity.
This little dance with the devil takes over roughly a total of 10 years from a woman’s life, according to https://thoughtcatalog.com/lorenzo-jensen-iii/2015/07/25-little-known-facts-about-your-period/
10 years, on average, of fun filled suffering and anguish.
For me, I get the joy of experiences like, the middle of the night vomits, combined with urgent need to defecate, repeatedly. The reality of feeling like a stabbed pig gushing into my own diaper is a disgusting reminder that I’ve not fulfilled my biological need to reproduce. Nothing quite wakes you up and turns your night into a festive blood drenched murder scene like the urgent need to rush to the bathroom at 2am for 3-7 (usually 7) consecutive days at regular monthly intervals.
Having shooting pains and pins, needles - a fire setting off your pain sensors all over your body. Hot showers, essential oils, internal pelvic floor stretching, tens machine, IFC machine, heating pads, diet changes, digestive testing, Yamuna body rolling….all barely touch the surface of my suffering - the tools take the edge off enough to function, but barely and mostly it means putting my life on pause while I wait for the inevitable to pass. If you know me (or have read my previous posts), you know I try not to take medicine. I’m attempting an all natural course of healing for my IC, my gut inflammation and my body systematically. Over the counter pills don’t even touch the intensity I experience during my visit from every girls least favorite Aunt anyway so why bother? Anything stronger comes with it’s own array of side effects and different forms of dysfunction - defeating the point of it all anyway.
I know that there’s a likelihood I have systems that aren’t properly flushing, creating an inability to detox fully; that there’s hormones out of whack and this fit my body throws is all it can do to attempt to bare the load my past self’s lifestyle - societies current state of food - and my genetic makeup has left it unwittingly. I understand this heavy, horrible cycle can be a side effect of an unbalanced body. All symptoms I am fighting with are likely a result of the broken system, hormones, and stress.
For me, my monthly visit from my Aunt Flow brings about her cohort of IBS, IC and pelvic floor spasms. Basically it’s a torture holiday in my midsection for the chronic pain gremlins to play freely throughout my body. Because of the guarantee of pain at regular intervals, any duration of relief is short lived by this circle I’m trapt in.
However, I do my best to cope through bodywork, essential oils and a healthy lifestyle; with diet and exercise, I’m optimistic that as I heal my gut I can change the negative experiences I have within my uterus.
I’m going to ask you to imagine an experience. This experience should feel traumatic, scary and overwhelming. Delve into your imagination and envision burning, urgent discomfort. Agony bursts through to your brain’s pain center, telling you there’s knives slicing up your midsection. Your most intimate […]
I hear my alarm and close my eyes tightly.
A stream of intense emotions hits me at once ranging from complete self loathing, disgust with my body, fear of my continued suffering experience - to guilt, despair, and shame about how useless I believe myself to be. Some mornings I wake up with blinding rage. This morning it’s a desperate loneliness. I’m isolated in my state, unable to participate in normal functioning society therefore I’m a failure.
Ignoring the screaming urgency willing me to move I hit snooze for ten more minutes. Just delaying the inevitable. I don’t sleep in that time but I wish I was. If I’m sleeping I’m someplace else and unaware of the suffering I’ll endure during waking hours. I fucking hate when Frank’s fired up.
Every morning I’ve allotted myself 2 hours to complete a lengthy routine of self care to manage the level at which my body will deteriorate throughout the day due to stress and general use. Pelvic floor exercises, painful stretches, body rolling and a hearty deep breathing routine. If I’m lucky that will be enough to stave off some of the oncoming suffering. Today I’ll be late to work giving myself an extra thirty minutes of attention. I’m grateful my boss doesn’t question my frequent delinquency. It’s embarrassing enough my coworkers know vaguely about Frank. I’m a freak, a zoo animal with allergies or some version of sick.
I manage my diet meticulously. I drink my lemon water. Today I avoid the recommended supplements. I question their effectiveness. I only eat the protein rich breakfast of eggs the nutritionist recommended. I frown at the lack of apparent snacks as I’ve not meal prepped due to increased difficulty managing two jobs and trying to maintain what’s left of my social life. It’s not like I need more food, more reason to question what’s irritating my bladder and the surrounding areas. If I don’t eat. Food can’t affect me.
I drag my feet leaving the house. Motivation and excitement evade me. Energy is a distant dream. I yawn to stifle a scream and leave for my desk job. I feel like I’m making motions but not really present. I’m trapped within myself feeling every second of discomfort without the ability to change it yet still moving through my days. I wear loose fitting clothing, cotton underwear and chew on my lip to stifle the burning tears attempting to escape my eyes. This can’t be my life.
The previous day was horrendous. I felt my pelvic floor spasm, painful and burning hot - All. Day. Long. A day that ended in tears and an embarrassing encounter discussing my disease with my boss. He was gracious, kind and listened but I’m ashamed I wasn’t strong enough to wait until later to cry or not cry at all. No amount of stretching, breathing or cursing would change the onset of today’s flare caused by the uncontrollable spasms. Please, body please stop.
I feel trapped by my inability to take adequate time I need to recover. Going to work is sure to increase stress and reduce my ability to cope with the pain. Not going to work means no money to pay for the supplements, the medical professionals, the physical therapy and all the other financial shit that tugs at my wallet. These catch 22 circumstances that have me pulling my hair out and breaking down in a sobbing puddle in the middle of my bedroom floor more often than I’d like to admit. I’d rather be in a puddle crying right now.
At my desk, beginning the longest 10 hours of my life, I attempt to ignore the screams coming from my loins. Maybe working will ease the obsessive thoughts in my head. The ones retracing my steps trying to figure out how we got here and what triggered Frank’s fire filled rage - the downward spiral that is my body rejecting itself with swelling, burning, urgency filled hell - this time. I’m exhausted, I need an out.
I sit at my desk, then try standing, then sit again. I instantly start researching my mortifying and excruciating symptoms on my phone. I work a few emails. My lip started bleeding. I switch to gnawing the other side. There’s a hole where my canine hooks into my bottom lip from repetitive trauma. I’m on the verge of panic but choke down the bitter taste of my own dismay. I read another article, respond to another email. I’ve been on this circular road for longer than I care to remember. Breathe, you’re alive, you’re in pain but you’ll survive.
By the day's end I consider the options. Give up. Ah yes, this unnerving nagging negative notion. The temptation to quit searching and submit to pain refusing to relinquish its grasp. Do I accept my shit lot for what it is? I remind myself I’ve had change. There’s been progress. It’s not everyday anymore. I’ve had days I feel better, I AM getting healing. Some days are ten steps backwards after one step forward. This flare is a temporary state and I’ll find solutions. It’s up to me to figure out the new factor that was the catalyst for this episode. I’ll find the healing means that work best for me. I’ll find and try something new. I have to, I can’t keep going on like this.
Persevere. Obsess. Fall apart. Pray that Frank relents. Obsess. Fall apart. Persevere.
Chronic pain will no longer control my life, I pray, I’m stronger than I think.
If your body could talk, what would it say about your needs and lifestyle? Would your body tell you what the gurgling in your stomach meant about your diet and how that would later affect your mood? Would it mention that you forget to warm […]
I’ve felt the crushing weight of asthma as your lungs fill with inflammation leaving no room for air. I understand the inability to control your mind and mouth from following various rabbit trails as they hop sporadically through your head. I’m intimate with chronic pain and know she’s a cruel mistress, relentless in her pursuit of body destruction.
I’ve lived with a deep loneliness that at times fills me with cement and leaves me to rot in a bed. I’ve been frozen in fear, breathless and gasping for relief from my inner torment all the while wearing a smile on my face. I've had my intelligence questioned at moments where words would rather strangle me than roll off my tongue.
I deprived my body of food for days at a time in high school to feel skinny. I forced my body to ingest non stop during high stress moments in college. My weight has fluctuated at 5’6” from 90 pounds to 220 over the span of 15 years. I challenged my liver to binge drink professionally with the longest streak I don’t remember being roughly 14 days. I remember telling myself this is just what college kids did.
I gave away too much and don’t recall enough memories. I've been intimately abundant in alcohol consumption, dissociation and what I’ve blocked out from my childhood years due to trauma, death and exposure to addiction. I’ve felt broken. I’ve believed I was worthless because I was limited, unwell.
Asthma, ADHD, Anorexia, Addiction, Anxiety, Binge Eating, Depression, Interstitial Cystitis, Tension Headaches, Repetitive Strain Injuries (effecting my back, knees and wrists), Chronic Pain.
My diagnosis list is long and the shame I’ve felt about who I was in the past, is still existent but I know it doesn’t define me. I am not a label. I’ve chosen to heal, naturally. I’ve chosen to change. To pursue more meaning and make this life journey about being comfortable with who I am and the only home I’ll ever truly reside, my body. I’m resolved to be my best self. I use my experiences to educate myself on what they mean to me, others and ways to overcome these life circumstances.
I choose to disseminate the truth, my truth. I believe I’m on the path to learning to manage my conditions - both mental and physical - with natural medicine, remedies, activities and real healing. Who I choose to be in spite of all I suffer is a person worthy of love. I choose to be someone who believes the world is still beautiful, that nature gives us what we need to optimize how we feel and function.
This journey has not been easy but with supportive friends and steadfast determination in myself, I continue to persevere and move forward. I try to live in this moment and accept myself where I’m at. I know I can’t fix my body in a day but each day I get better at managing and mending. All of life is a practice, I’m making mine about health and healing.
My suffering led me to try new things. Through the use of The Rossiter System, Yamuna Body Rolling, Functional Fitness, Foam Rolling, training my mental health and other pain/stress management tools I’ve found ways to alleviate pain or discomfort. I studio the human body, my ailments and other's experiences in depth. I completely changed careers to focus on giving people a more pain free existence through the tools I've learned. I’ve chosen to pursue mastery in helping others overcome their own health ailments.
I will continue my education of the body to help share what I believe is effective truth about health and healing, here. I will share the struggle, the nightmare that can be this journey towards self mastery and health. I am on the correct path, set forth to seek healing my own body fully and sustain it for life. I’d like to help as many others as I can find success in their own body’s health and wellness.