by Band Back Together | Sep 8, 2016 | Adoption, Pet Loss |
If you missed yesterday’s post, you would know that on the 29th of January I had to put down Alley Cat. She has been sick for the past couple of years and if you want to know more about that you can click here to go and read that post. I have to know for years that at some point I would have to say goodbye to her, and I knew it would be hard, but I was in no way prepared for how hard it was.
Because of how people acted towards her at the end of her life I refused to let anyone else come with me. It was just her and I and now knowing how it all would turn out I think I made the right choice. They had to give her 3 or 4 shots because she pulled out her first IV, so it didn’t work. Let’s just say that there was nothing humane about the process.
It was supposed to take a few minutes to work, and it took over 30 minutes to finally take effect. I sit here now thinking about it all and I can’t help but smile because her whole life she had to fight to stay alive and she gave them a damn good fight at the end. I wish it would have worked right away, but it wouldn’t have been Alley Cat if she gave in easy. I know she was sick, and it was the right thing to do, but I feel like I failed her because there is no way that it was painless, and it wasn’t short like they claimed it would be. I am now left wondering how much she felt and what her last moments were truly like.
The real reason I wanted to talk about this today is that it brought back so many of the emotions I felt when I placed my daughter for adoption, and I wasn’t prepared for that. I have always said the Alley was my “replacement” baby so instead of getting pregnant shortly after placing my daughter for adoption I went and adopted Alley. I feel like I just placed my daughter a few days ago, and that is one thing I never wanted to feel again. It is hard to be brought back right to place I was at 10+ years ago because at this point I would have thought that there was no way I could feel these emotions as strongly as I did then and yet here we are.
In the end, I hope that I don’t have to feel like this for too long because it truly sucks. I know I will survive this because if I could get through it the first time than I know for sure, I will get through it this time as well. I will just keep putting one foot in front of the other one and keep going. I know that it will pass, and I will have good days and bad days but in time, the good days will start to outnumber the bad days. I will never forget her or my daughter but as time passes you do think of them less and less.
by Band Back Together | Sep 7, 2016 | Bullying, Childhood Bullying, Self Loathing, Self-Esteem, Shame |
I’ve never been a beautiful girl.
My features are manly, and there’s nothing in particular that is beautiful about my face. The bullying started in 6th grade. I began to date a young boy and once his classmates found out they called me “ugly slut”. The name calling went on for the rest of the year, I’d hear the girls and boys whisper as I walked by. Prior to this I never thought of myself as ugly, but their words made me question myself. 7th and 8th grade were just about the same, I felt that all I heard was “ugly,ugly,ugly”.
Then it was time for high school where I thought everything would be better, but it wasn’t. On the first day I was called ugly by the jock who sat in the back. I couldn’t befriend boys because they would soon turn me into the laughing stalk of their friends. No one wanted to talk to me because they were embarrassed to be seen talking to the ugly girl. The few guys who would talk to me were often harassed with “is that your girlfriend, she’s ugly” “4/10”. Yet, I managed to survive all that.
Fast forward a couple years and things seem calm…
Naked pictures of me were spread. Now I wasn’t just an ugly girl, but a shamed, embarrassed and exposed one.
by Band Back Together | Aug 27, 2016 | Anxiety, Coping With Divorce, Divorce, Fear, Feelings, How To Help A Friend With Infertility, In Vitro Fertilization, Infertility, IUI, Loneliness, Sadness, Stress |
Coping with infertility can be an incredibly isolating experience.
This is her story:
Anyone who has been through IVF or any type of infertility treatments can vouch for how isolating it is. The time period where I spent all of my energy and focus on trying to conceive were the most lonely times of my life. Sure, yes, you’re with a partner, but as only woman knows, creating life is entirely a maternal thing.
I could sit here and tell you my story, which would take all day. And believe me, I LOVE to talk. But to spare you, I’ll give you the short version.:
I went through approximately 6 1/2 years of infertility, on and off. It killed my first marriage, and with my second marriage, it definitely took its toll, but we had our limits. Our last attempt was a Frozen Embryo Transfer (or FET for you newbs or n00bs if you prefer leet speak). We both decided, for our mental health and our marriage, that this was it. If it didn’t work, we were going to become the crazy animal people in our neighborhood. There probably would have been weird things like ferrets and tegus.
But it worked. And we were…shocked. That’s the thing about fertility treatments, when they actually work, you feel like you pulled off a bank heist.
Cut to four years later, and we now have two healthy children, one, who was a big old natural surprise. We call her the Matlock baby. Because we joke that we had ten minutes before Matlock started, and well, you get the rest.
But my point to this is, that going through it, I felt…depression doesn’t even begin to cover it. The first time around, I felt as if I had this blanket of sadness wrapped around me, that I couldn’t take off. Ever. The second time around, I found solace in the internet. It wasn’t so taboo! I had people I could talk to. Blogs I could read. But it taught me two things:
One, you are not alone. Not by a long shot.
Approximately 7.5 [million] women are affected by infertility.
Two, use your voice. Educate.
I feel no embarrassment or shame in telling people that we had a hard time conceiving, or that my son was conceived via In-Vitro Fertilization. Was I ashamed that my body failed me? Yes, for a while, but it wasn’t my fault. So I tell people. I talk about it, and 70-80% of the time, someone will chime in, “ME TOO!” It opens doors. It helps us to find others like us. And it also helps to educate people that don’t understand what its like. When we were going through treatment, a good friend of mine was so interested in the process. She would watch me inject medication. She would ask questions. Some people will always be ignorant, but by and large, people are just uneducated about the topic.
Please don’t be afraid to speak up. Don’t be ashamed. Lastly, don’t isolate yourself.
by Band Back Together | Aug 20, 2016 | Anger, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorders, Bipolar Disorder, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Coping With Anxiety Disorders, Coping With Depression, Feelings, Generalized Anxiety Disorder Resources, Loving Someone With Bipolar Disorder, Major Depressive Disorder, Teen Sexuality |
“Teenage hormones”
“Depression”
“Chemical imbalance”
“Post Traumatic Stress Disorder”
“Postpartum Depression”
“Seasonal Affective Disorder”
“Bipolar”
“Generalized Anxiety Disorder”
Since I was 15 years old, I’ve been diagnosed with one thing after another.
It’s like a revolving door. Or a carousel of diagnoses. Like a really bad carnival ride, where you just want off, but it seems like it won’t end. Ever.
Usually I get a new label because we’ve run through the gamut of medication that is supposed to “solve” one problem, only to find that none of them work.
Or I have changed providers.
So I fill out another 500 question sheet of paper, which of course has answers that are completely dependent on what day of the week it is, what time of the day it is and whether or not I got any sleep the night before.
Then after this highly scientific deduction process, I’m given a new prescription to go with my new label and sent on my merry way.
Only to fall flat on my ass at some point (and I do mean fall, like rock-bottom), and have to start all over again.
This is why I’m a big fan of saying that medicine alone is not enough. I fully believe medicine is a hugely helpful tool. But I also think that it needs to be in conjunction with some form of therapy.
Of course, that doesn’t explain why I haven’t managed to make it to my appointments with my therapist in the last couple months…
by Band Back Together | Aug 1, 2016 | Bacterial Infectious Diseases, Happiness, Hope, Lyme Disease |
This is her struggle with Lyme Disease and a happy update!
I’ve been on some version of antibiotics since late last fall, first killing Bartonella and then working with a combo of drugs to attack the Lyme bacteria.
A year ago, I had no idea why I was sick. Each month brought with it an unknown set of new symptoms. I would cycle through the month with a flare up every 35-ish days. I often predicted when I would get sick again because the cycles were so regular. No one wants a diagnosis like this, but at that point, I just wanted to know what the hell was wrong with me!
I have had several people question whether I was legitimately sick and then a few more question the Lyme diagnosis since it is far from fool-proof. But a year later, I have to say, I feel SO much better and am so thankful for the doctors who risk their licenses to treat this disease. I may not be 100%, and I certainly still have some neurologic deficits, but compared to a year ago, I am so much healthier.
The shooting electric shock pain is gone.
Where I used to be tired from doing nothing, I now am only tired from doing. I may still get more easily fatigued than I used to, but at least I can be somewhat productive. (And this week has been a record for energy I think since before I got pregnant TWO AND A HALF YEARS AGO!)
My joints feel much better and are only stiff momentarily in the morning.
The all-over body pain is gone.
I still get dizzy, but it’s becoming more and more related to over-stimulation and florescent lights, as opposed to just being dizzy because I’m awake.
I still forget how to spell words sometimes and can find myself lost in a conversation. My eyes still get tired. And the Bell’s Palsy isn’t fully resolved.
But I am better, and that’s a reason to be optimistic that I will make a full recovery!
