Be Not Ashamed.....A little tale of why I overshare

Hey Friends!

Some of my family members have been getting questions about what’s been going on with me. And/OR how come I’m so open about my illness.

I’ve made the decision to be so open about what I have been going through because I want to take the stigma and shame away from having a chronic illness.

The stigma and shame is what causes a lot of the depression in our community. When things aren’t talked about people wonder if it’s normal for them to feel those feelings or experience what they are experiencing.

I have gotten over the shame and want to find the funny; because what we go through although some days is heartbreaking and irritating is pretty damn funny.

So instead of there being an army of us sitting at home in pain behind our computers I want us to unite and find the good we can bring to the plate.

We are as a whole an inspirational people, and if we keep what we’re going through a secret we won’t be able to help others who are not only experiencing similar problems, but people who are just struggling with the everyday ups and downs.

That’s why I have weird facebook status’, that’s why sometimes I over share. Because I have seen to many women and men going through what I am going through and they are ashamed about what their body has done to them. There is no need to be ashamed. 

Whether its Cancer or MS or Muscular Dystrophy or Dysautonomia etc. You are not your illness and you should not be ashamed of what you are going through.

MOO

Have I mentioned my AWESOME stomach? Along with my whacked out nervous system, third uretor, and paradoxical brain I have an awesome slow moving-lazy stomach…that hates lactose.

I’ve been gluten sensitive for a while, realized about two months ago that I’m showing a little bit of gastroparesis downward spiral and my doc put me on a strict diet limiting to things that digest more easily.

No raw veggies, only white bread, if I eat fruit I skin it first. I can only eat meat and eggs when I prepare it certain ways, for example, scrambled eggs don’t digest as easily as a little nervous over easy egg does. Then to top it off I’m not just sorta lactose intolerant, my stomach starts reenacting it’s own version of Texas Chainsaw Massacre as soon as that drop of milk touches my tongue. Apparently I can’t have bread, chocolate, or anything else with even small traces of milk in it.

I won’t die if I have milk, but over time my stomach will start looking like a crack addicts pot-holed skin face. But the only immediate consequences I get are constant trips to the bathroom, vomiting like crazy and tootin like a boy scout around the campfire.

It could be worse I guess. I could be completely gluten intolerant too…or be trapped in a cage with Sara Palin and Gene Simmons.

Growing up I always wondered why cows always hated me. I figured it's cus we'd go tip em over every night....Did they know my body secretly hated them too?

It's Salt's Fault

Source

Part of my new life is I have to intake 10 g of salt a day. Yes...10 grams!! The average person has about 3-4.5 g a day. I also get the pleasure of drinking 2.5 liters of water a day. I'm supposed to drink Gatorade but i'd almost rather drink gator pee...I said almost.

I pour it on my food, in my drinks, and guzzle it plain because the salt tablets that have been prescribed to me cause instant up chuck.

You ever need to get poison out? Just throw one of those monsters down ya and out it'll come!

Still with all the guzzling and chugging back i'm not getting even close to the suggested amount.

My dad's threatening to install a salt lick in the back yard for me.

... he loves me so much?

Today I Discovered I am a Masochist.

I have a HUGE weakness. Here in this part of the country we have a BEAUTIFUL place, a MAGICAL place, a PERFECT place we like to call...THE PIZZA FACTORY.

The addiction started in high school it was our little hang out spot then it didn't get any better when I became friends with the owners son. Oh dear oh dear. It was bad.

When I moved away I was sadden by the thought of departing from that perfect pasta (yes it's a pizza factory that made pasta) and heavenly, succulent, bread sticks. If man and food were allowd to marry I would marry those bread sticks.

So with tears in my eyes I parted ways and never looked back.

But then the other day I was looking for a place to eat with my auntie C and as we were driving up and down the hills throughout our beautiful city I saw the clouds part, angels started singing and there it was...a Pizza Factory glistening in the sun calling out my name. I almost fainted with excitement and had to put pressure on my chest because my heart started pounding and jumping out of control.

Because of it my aunt and I have gone there not once but three times in the last week and a half.

Now many of you may be thinking big deal, that sounds wonderful. but the thing is, I think i'm gluten intolerant or something. When I eat too much bread I not only spend the next three days in the bathroom puking and other things, but I also end up having episode after episode.

So it was NO surprise when I had a big ol' doosy of an event last night. It was one of the most terrible events I've had for a couple of months. Every sensory nerve in my body was going nuts. I couldn't touch anything without stings of uncomfortable spikes pressed through my skin. I can't explain it any other way then it feels the same way for your skin as it feels for your ears to hear finger nails on the chalk board. Clothes off, I was on my tip toes with my arms stretched out and my legs spread so that nothing was touching me. Including the carpet. The only thing that seemed to help was an intensely cold shower and spending a good couple of hours out in the cold. Then the migraine and wiggly limbs came.

and it may all be because of those heavenly bread sticks. (BTW when your obsessively track what you eat and do then compare it to your episodes and events, this will allow you to connect what triggers them.) Oh dear. Yes I know. So last night I swore I would refrain, not allow myself to be weak and never go back. But then my aunt came over and she needed a fix. Oh no, I've made her an addict. She was jonesing bad, and honestly, so was I. My mom gave me that look, you know the mom look. But my cravings were pushing me, chewing at me, my heart gave out and I went. Ordered my usual salad and bread sticks. and now 'I've been going back and forth to the bathroom and I know that by the time the sun is up my brain will be extra foggy and my i'll be fighting off my wiggly limbs.

I must be a masochist. I still want another one.