Tag: stress

You Up?

~ kristalauren ~ 3 Comments

My arms are killing me right now. I am beyond exhausted, but I can’t seem to fall asleep. This can be a common problem for people with all sorts of chronic illnesses, or even just regular people with stress. My problem is that I am sometimes worn out from just living day to day life.

I don’t complain to people very much in person because complaining isn’t really my thing. I love being positive, and honestly feel like I am a lot happier when I can look at the bright side of things in life. Sometimes you just fake it till you make it, right? This can be a double-edged sword, though. It’s wonderful because I can keep my relationships light, and add more joy to both my own life and the lives of my loved ones. It’s hard, though, because I feel like the less I talk about my symptoms, the more they are just forgotten.

You can’t see when I’m dizzy or nauseous or in pain. I have said it a million times, and I’m sure I’ll keep chatting about it on here — you cannot see signs of invisible illness. If you look closely, you’ll notice the bags under my eyes have become darker and deeper the past several weeks. I look in the mirror when I take my makeup off and can tell there’s been more wear lately. You can’t see the way my arms feel ropey and knotted, or the fact that my thoracic spine is as stiff as a board, though. I went to a Nationals game a few weeks ago and thought I might faint a few times. I stood and talked candidly about my wedding plans and how I don’t know very much about baseball, but I felt the stadium spinning circles around me as I spoke. It felt like I had left my body and was being twirled around and around on an amusement park ride.

Screen Shot 2018-08-08 at 11.38.10 PM.png

When my POTS acts up it starts by slowly tightening everything in my chest and heating up my face, then moves to what feels like my body overheating and getting ready to shut down. In the same way that Robert’s gaming computer’s fans started whirring frantically when it was overheating, my body goes into panic mode to try to keep myself conscious by either getting into a horizontal position or rushing blood back up to my brain in any way it can. Sometimes that involves fainting to facilitate the blood flow, but luckily I have learned the signs of when I need to sit down.

Emotionally, I can feel drained with all of this. The more I write the more I expect people to understand. The less I feel understood, the more I want to scream. “I know I am the exact same person in your mind because I look normal, but how the heck would you feel if you woke up tomorrow and had to give up your job, your independence, your financial stability, and your working body?!” What frustrates me the most is how hard it is to wrap your mind around what life must be like as a young person who is sick. It kills me that I can’t go out with friends and family on long hikes, and that I don’t have the option to turn down camping just because it’s too hot out and I don’t feel like getting sweaty. I miss running, I miss going out dancing until the wee hours of the morning, and I miss competing. I absolutely hate not being able to compete in any kind of sport anymore, which is why I have opted for being a cutthroat board game player instead. It often doesn’t feel fair that other twenty-somethings take their bodies for granted or understand just how lucky they are to go to work every day and walk around pain-free.

I will keep writing because I want so badly for you to understand. I want you to love your own body fiercely for the things it can do, and I want you to realize that just because I am not playing volleyball or tagging along on your wilderness hikes doesn’t mean I don’t want to — it just means I either physically can’t, or it’s not worth how many days I know I will pay for the fun after the fact. I remember when I graduated from college and a friend began having severe chronic pain. I felt terrible for her, but I also didn’t get that her life would be changed forever with her new fibromyalgia diagnosis. It’s easy to move on with your day and forget about how other people are feeling when you don’t understand their journey, but it becomes a whole new ballgame when you meet someone who is struggling with something that you have already been through. Next week I am going to talk some about empathy versus sympathy. I have learned how to be empathetic to others the hard way, but I also think it is one of the most beautiful characteristics I own now. You don’t always have to walk a mile in someone else’s shoes for your heart to really understand what they are going through.

A Letter From A “Slow Walker”

~ kristalauren ~ 20 Comments

There is often a lot of talk about how annoying “slow walkers” are. I have always fallen into the “annoyed” category since God gave me long legs at birth.

When I was 22 I got sick with a chronic illness — Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome. It started off as a debilitating sickness. I could only walk about twelve feet without resting, and could only make the long journey up a flight of stairs to my bed once a day with the help of my parents and taking little breaks between climbing a few steps and sitting down to rest until I reached the top.

When I was finally well enough to go out of the house for a fifteen minute errand to the grocery store it was a big deal. I felt like I had this tiny piece of normalcy in my life, even though I felt constantly dizzy and nauseous.

Wegmans was my number one choice for a field trip, and I wanted to see if I could go find a salty snack and chocolate bar while I was there. One salty snack, one sweet treat. That’s it.

I walked to the dessert aisle first, as it was closer to the entrance, and my eyes grazed over dozens of choices. The room spun as I tried to read new labels, and my body started to gently sway. I knew I wasn’t feeling well enough to stay in this upright position much longer, but I was determined to be normal again — at least for a few minutes. I snagged a bar I thought might be halfway decent and took each step to the popcorn aisle as carefully as I possibly could. I didn’t want to fall, and I absolutely was not about to faint in public for the first time — not today.

As I put one foot in front of the other I vaguely noticed the bustling around me. I felt mildly panicked as I began to realize I shouldn’t be alone anymore and that my heart was racing the way it does when I’m about to pass out. My eyes slowly scanned the aisle, and I couldn’t feel my footing anymore. My feet were still planted firmly on the ground, but my head was spinning in circles.

“What the hell is her problem,” I hear behind me. I turn, dazed, as a woman my mom’s age firmly nudged me into the shelf that held some sort of food I couldn’t quite make out. It wasn’t until I was intentionally lying on the ground* to get the blood to flow back to my brain moments later that it all clicked. I was the one with the “problem.”

Tears welled up behind my foggy eyes. I had never been different before, and I wasn’t used to having a disability. No one could tell by looking at me that I was sick, but my body reminded me every second of every day that I was ill. The room kept spinning, but somehow I kept thinking.

I was a heavy mix of angry, frustrated, and devastated. Why aren’t people more patient? Why can’t we have some sort of label for the chronically ill so that people would know I need extra help? But wait, why can’t people just be kind to others in general and realize that you never know what someone else is going through by of the way they look? 

stairs.png

These are questions I never really thought about before I got sick. I am guilty of complaining to friends about “slow walkers,” moody waiters, and distracted baristas. Having a chronic illness has taught me the very important lesson that just because someone looks fine doesn’t mean that they are. People can have a hard time for a number of different reasons, and instead of making their life any more difficult by making snarky remarks or getting frustrated, we should all take a minute to practice patience and kindness. After all, even if someone doesn’t need it, there is never any harm in being kind to others and treating them the way you would like to be treated. Sure people can be frustrating sometimes, but is the hustle and bustle and rush of life really worth hurting another human? Is whatever you are rushing to really worth upsetting anyone over? I think the answer for most of us if we sat down and thought about it would be “no.”

*This is a tactic POTSies use to ward off some of our symptoms and feel a little better, hence the “Postural” in “POTS.”

Failing The Stress Test

~ kristalauren ~ 2 Comments

“Oh no!” he cried from the passenger seat. “That was our exit!”

“Hey, now we have more time to spend together,” I said as I looked at him slyly. I am directionally challenged, so making mistakes on the road wasn’t a new thing for me.

I took the next exit as we laughed cheerfully about some of the details from our date. We finally got back to campus, and he walked me to my dorm before saying goodnight.

A year later things had changed a little.

“Sweetheart, that was the exit we were supposed to take,” he scolded me harshly.

I rolled my eyes to myself. “Oh, it’s not a big deal, I’ll take the next one and Siri will re-route us,” I said calmly. It was strange that this seemed to be one of the many things we fought about lately. We weren’t on any sort of time constraint to get anywhere, so I didn’t understand the severity of my mistake. I was human, after all. He ought to know I am bound to mess up some… Right?

Why was it that every time the word “sweetheart” came from his lips I felt so low? It was supposed to be a word said with kindness for someone you love…

It was raining, but we decided to go out anyway.

“DAMN IT,” he cried in frustration. “You were supposed to turn there! Why weren’t you paying closer attention?”

The word “You” seemed to only be uttered when it was paired with harsh criticism. Sometimes “You are beautiful” would slip from his lips, but I had trouble taking the compliment. Did he think my heart was beautiful, or was this just lust? The timing of it always seemed too strange to be genuine.

Tears hid behind my eyes, but my body was used to working without my heart now. I knew how to turn off my feelings and shut everything down until I was home alone in my room and could cry if I still had the energy to. After all, I knew I would get scolded if I cried in front of him. It was the same cycle over and over again. I would make a mistake — even as simple as missing an exit or a turn — he would scold me harshly, and I would hold back tears. In his eyes I couldn’t do anything right anymore. I didn’t know why he still stayed with me, but he told me that I was lucky to be with a man who respected my boundaries — though I didn’t even feel this rang true anymore. I didn’t think our relationship was normal, but he claimed that we never fought and that most couples had far worse arguments than ours. A small piece of me believed him. That’s what made me stay.

road

He didn’t understand why I didn’t feel good when I was with him. It didn’t matter, though, as long as I could pretend I was okay. If I held it together just enough to make it through the day at least he had a chance at being happy. I would rather watch him be happy than feel that way myself anyway. I would do anything to make him happy — even when it was completely wrecking the cheerful girl who used to be so full of life.

I felt so empty; saying I was a shell of my former self would be an understatement. Calling me a robot might be a little more accurate, but at least they can be charged to have energy. I went through the motions every day, but wasn’t really living. Every decision I made was at a sad attempt to make him feel good. Why did he seem so miserable still? Why wasn’t anything I was doing for him making his life any better?

He told me how to make him happy. Sometimes it would be letting him live his life without me by his side, other times it would be compromising my values or my dreams for him.

“Compromise: Noun. An agreement or a settlement of a dispute that is reached by each side making concessions.”

What the hell was his concession? I followed him to work toward his life goals. I was ready to give up all the people I loved in my life to start a new one with him. I gave away my happiness and I gave away pieces of myself for him. And what did I get in return? Scolded.

“Let’s say your best friend was dating your boyfriend and you knew how he treated her. What advice would you give her?” A close friend finally asked me.

“I would tell her to break up with him and find someone who would treat her so much better,” I replied without hesitation. My best friend deserves someone who loves her more than anything in the world. Someone who will take care of her heart and her well-being as best as he possibly can. He will hurt when she hurts, learn all of the little things that make her smile, and plan a future with her that they are both excited about. He’ll look at her the way my boyfriend once did — like she’s the most beautiful person who has ever existed — but her guy’s love won’t burn out like ours had.

Holy shit. It hit me like a ton of bricks. Instead of feeling pain from the blow, I felt like a heavy weight was lifted from my chest. This was a moment that changed my life. I knew I deserved the same kind of love I wanted for my best friend. After all, I consistently told her when she wasn’t treated right that she would find a guy who would be her best friend and love her the way that every human being deserves to be loved. What kind of example was I setting to the women in my life about what love should look like? To be fair, they only saw the nice little snippets of my social media with him, which consisted of few and far between #TBT pictures or dates, but most of the time the smile in those pictures was only painted on my face. It wasn’t the genuine light that used to shine from my soul.

After months of dealing with so much, this moment showed me exactly what I needed to do. Break up with him.

And that’s what happened. I broke up with the guy who didn’t care about anything except his own happiness and satisfaction in our relationship. As soon as I realized it wasn’t my job to make the most selfish human in my life happy, joy rushed back into my body. I could feel again, I could breathe again, and I even learned to love again.

girl alone.png


Today’s lesson: Never, ever settle for someone who makes you compromise who you are for them. Be with someone who genuinely cares about your well being — and until you find that person, you can certainly be happier staying single and loving yourself than dating the wrong person.