by Band Back Together | Jul 13, 2016 | Hearing Loss and Hearing Impairment, Loneliness |
I’m the only one who deals with this. I feel like it’s holding me back.
I was born with a disability.
My right ear, first of all, looks hideous, and second, it doesn’t even work. I’ve never been able to sense exactly where a noise is coming from. It’s like living with all the noises coming through earbuds on both ears, only on half volume. It sucks to think about.
No one else I know at my school has a disability.
But there’s more.
I love being in the school drama club. I love acting in musicals and plays. I love being in our academy concerts. I really do. But I don’t enjoy songs the way other people do. I was born to remember and judge songs by the tune, not the words. I hardly remember the words of a good, catchy song. Because of this, it takes sweet time for me to remember the words to a song. Especially songs I don’t have feelings for.
Often the amount of time I have to practice my songs for my concert, or for my musical, is much more than the normal amount. By the time I’m on stage, I haven’t remembered the words. I’ve never had a real solo. I’m being held back from one of my dreams.
And Only I Feel It.
I now love to write stories, and it’s another dream to become an author. But I will never forget that other dream. It calls my name, but I can’t reach it.
And Only I Feel It.
People take advantage. I talk really loud, and it sounds normal to me. Raising my voice any higher is screaming.
Guess what?
And Only I Feel It.
I want to be normal. Why can’t I be normal?
By-WeWillBand
by Band Back Together | Jun 29, 2016 | Anger, Chronic Illness, How To Help A Friend With Chronic Illness, Invisible Illness, Loneliness, Lupus, Shame, Trauma |
I push myself everyday often beyond my better judgment. Lupus and Sjogrens are not diseases that I can beat into submission nor is the depression that comes along with the chronic widespread pain.
Yes, I want to do more, but why can’t you see I can only do so much and some days a lot less?
You need to know something else. When you don’t make the time to visit me? it breaks my spirit in ways I cannot adequately describe. I may be broken, but I still have value. I am worth the trouble it would take to make the trip to my house. I know you love me.
I wish you knew how much I need you to recognize this won’t go away by ignoring it and by default me.
by Band Back Together | Jun 27, 2016 | Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Anxiety Disorders, Cancer and Neoplasia, Child Sexual Abuse, Coping With Depression, Depression, Dysthymia, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Incest, Major Depressive Disorder, Panic Disorder, Therapy, Violence |
I don’t know where to start. I have had dysthymia for as long as I can remember. My new therapist says it is like a living a half-life. I guess it is. This year, it slipped into something worse. This year has been one of the worst years of my life and I have had some pretty bad years. I had a relationship end, I started a bout of major depression that left me 70 pounds heavier, I had two surgeries, I am in a job that I hate, and on November 21st, I lost a dear friend to cancer. I can’t stop thinking that I wished it had been me. I feel trapped by bad choices. I have nothing left to give anyone anymore. I feel dead inside, but I hide it well. No one really knows how many times I came close to killing myself this year. I grew up with an alcoholic, I grew up in a violent household where I never felt safe. I was molested several times by several men and one female relative.
I feel trapped in this fatsuit. I feel like the best years of my life are behind me. I feel damaged and broken. I am trying to get help. The mental health resources where I live are spread pretty thin. I get to see a therapist once a month, if I am lucky, and I see a doctor for meds for ten mins a month. He switched me some of my medications because of the weight gain. I have tried about ten different anti-depressants and all of them had some kind of unpleasant side effect. I keep hoping I will find one that actually works. I also take an anxiety medication. I take it to control the panic attacks I get when I am out in public. I take it to quiet the loop of negative thoughts I have going through my head everyday.
This is my first post. I come here and I know that I am not alone. I thank the brave people who share their stories here.
I am trying to get better. I am with The Band.
by Band Back Together | Jun 15, 2016 | Anger, Breast Cancer, Cancer and Neoplasia, Cancer Survivor, Coping With Cancer, Depression, Faith, Fear, Guilt, Mastectomy, Stress, Trauma |
Have you ever been swimming in the ocean and wondered what was lurking underneath you…eying your body…sizing you up to see if you would make a tasty meal? That’s what I call the breast cancer “shark attack syndrome.”
I liken the physical and psychological impact of a double mastectomy to a shark attack. It happens quickly and violently. In a matter of minutes you are struck hard and parts of your body are carried away into a vast ocean by a predator much bigger than you. It isn’t personal. The attack is random. You are left alive but amputated–stunned and with a life long fear of the water.
People who know about my diagnosis gawked at my chest like an accident scene on the freeway. Family, friends…they can’t help themselves from looking. I chose not to have reconstruction due to the lengthy recovery…an infant and a toddler don’t lend themselves to extensive plastic surgery. My daughter was 8 months old and my son was 3 years when I had the surgery, not exactly the age where I could be out of commission.
I don’t wear the prosthetics I bought…they constantly remind me I am amputated, and the first time I took yoga one of them fell out! My beloved yoga teacher said, “Just take them out, honey.” I never looked back.
Rough Waters
The journey through a breast cancer diagnosis with two small children was so very hard. I searched for the words to tell my son…
”The Doctor found a lump in mommy’s breast that isn’t good for her body and he has to take it out.”
Thanks to my son’s school and my amazing husband, we got him through it…but he STILL talks about it and recently asked, “Mommy, why don’t you have boobies?” At that point I realized my beautiful daughter would grow up never knowing her mother’s body to look “normal.” She only knows the scars. That is the day my heart broke forever. As if depression didn’t make me feel inadequate enough, now I felt like a carnie act. Come on down and meet the lady who was attacked by sharks!
I will never truly recover from knowing what I look like and what I represent to my children. But I am here to be their mom and truly thankful. Thank god I had it checked. The mammogram showed no abnormalities! If I had just had the mammogram I would have faced a diagnosis of invasive cancer and perhaps required chemotherapy or radiation. As of now, they tell me I am “cured.”
And I found it myself.
Not a minute in the day goes by that I don’t worry that it will return and take me from my children. Every woman who has had breast cancer knows exactly what I’m talking about. Every cold, every headache, every stiff muscle, still scares me into thinking I am still out there in that ocean—defenseless to another shark attack. What part of my body will they take next time?
I saw my mother lose her breast early in life. The same month I was diagnosed, she was diagnosed with Stage IV colo-rectal cancer. I watched the sharks circle her for six years, taking feet of colon, and eventually her life.
But it isn’t a pity party. I am glad I got cancer. It was a hell of a lot easier to deal with than postpartum depression, than life-long depression, than the cancer that is depression. And it got me immediately in touch with impermanence, and subsequently, my spiritual practice.
If I were thrown back into the dark ocean again and a recurrence reared it’s ugly head, I have my faith to thank for curing me of my fear of sharks.
by Band Back Together | May 15, 2016 | Anxiety, Family, Fear, Happiness, Hope, How To Help A Friend Whose Child Is Seriously Ill, Love, Pediatric Caregiver, Speech Disorders |
Last week, my daughter Anna was on the radio! She was invited by Angie Evans to do the Triple Play Takeover on WCFX. She was able to request three songs. She picked “Baby” by Justin Bieber (of course), “Fifteen” by Taylor Swift and “King of Anything” by Sara Bareilles. She also was able to describe a prize for a giveaway, answer the phones, and do the weather. She even got to talk with Angie on air, and tell everyone a little bit about herself.
Of course she was a little bit nervous beforehand, but I think I was even more nervous for her. I didn’t need to be, though. She was a natural! She joked around, and even shared some entertainment gossip she had just learned!
Years ago, I never would have imagined this would have happened. You see, Anna’s been receiving speech therapy since she was a little over a year old. When she was a preschooler, I was the only one who understood what she was saying. I was constantly having to act as an interpreter. Speaking clearly and slowly enough for others to understand has always been a challenge for her.
Yet there she was, on the radio, speaking clearly and totally coming out of her shell. Doing the Triple Play Takeover was so much more than having fun on the radio for 30 whole minutes.
Instead, it was a huge milestone that she was finally able to achieve
by Band Back Together | May 1, 2016 | Anger, Anxiety, Cancer and Neoplasia, Coping With Cancer, Denial, Feelings, Health, Sadness |
Have you ever lost something that you held dear?
Maybe a favorite piece of jewelry? Time? A friend?
My mother-in-law lost her battle with cancer just a few weeks short of my second wedding anniversary. She was an amazing woman. And I’m not just saying that. Everybody adored her. When you think of the ideal mom, that was her. She had a ton of friends that sang her praises. She volunteered with the American Cancer Society to drive elderly people that couldn’t drive to medical appointments and to run errands. She would do anything for anybody. Thoughtful, warm, beautiful smile.
Clearly, she was not a likely candidate for cancer!
Clearly God wouldn’t tear an angel from our hearts!
But we were wrong. Less than a year before her death, she was diagnosed with cancer.
Religion doesn’t play a huge role in my life. It is important to me, and I pray and thank God every night for our blessings. My mom’s best friend, a practicing Christian and strong believer, once told me, “God doesn’t care where you worship him as long as you worship him.”
So I prayed. I prayed that she would get better. I prayed that chemotherapy and radiation would work. I prayed the homeopathic treatments that she tried would work. I prayed for a miracle. I tried to bargain with God. If he let her live, I would never do X, Y, or Z again. If he let her live, I’d be a better person.
A few months before she passed, it was clear she wasn’t getting better. And that’s when I started to get mad. Why would God take someone so loved by so many? Someone that had not even met her son’s children yet? But I continued to pray.
Up until the night we got the call that she had passed away. We had been over to see her earlier that day, and knew that she was getting worse. We knew what was coming. We got to say that we loved her, and spoke to her privately. When we got the call that she was gone, I was shocked that she had actually died. I expected my miracle.
And I was pissed. Pissed off at God. All those prayers? They meant nothing. Why would he take someone that was so loved by so many people? There are thousands of murderers, rapists, and child molesters that deserve death – why not take one of them?
WHY, WHY, WHY?
The prayers stopped. I ignored him when I heard him trying to “talk” to me. Religion? Obviously a joke. Why believe in HIM if he can’t even help when you asked for it. There was no lesson to be learned. No epiphany to wait for. There was just sorrow and grief.
IT WAS NOT FAIR.
Does time really heal all wounds? I think it does. Because ever so slowly, over that first year after her death, I started to listen to him again. And I started to pray…occasionally. And when I invited him back into my life because I missed him, he gladly accepted me with open arms.
I still haven’t figured out the “why,” and I still don’t know what I was supposed to learn from her death.
Maybe I never will.
But I am glad I found my faith again.
