The past month has been really hard on me emotionally. Everyone keeps saying "baby steps" the weight will come off, etc. but no one knows how hard it is unless they walk in your shoes. Imagine every morning looking into the mirror for two years and not knowing the face you're looking back at due to the fact that it is so bloated of fluid. Imagine being twenty-five and not able to wear a two piece ever again due to the striae scars on my stomach, or paranoid about your scars on your arms and making sure that shirts are long enough to cover them. This are only some of the things that have become my daily life. With all of this insecurity about my looks, you can imagine my anxiety about going home and seeing people that I haven't seen since our wedding. I honestly did not want to go home. But in my heart of hearts I know I would regret not going to see my nieces and supporting my dad at the golf pro-am.
In the end I'm glad I went. I braved seeing people, had a few pep talks from some people, and got over the anxiety. I've learned that if put on a smile and show people that although I don't look like me, but I am still the same old me, my balloon face doesn't seem to be that much of an issue. Although people commented about how they were thinking about me and praying for me, they still treated me like me. Which was nice. I have hated being treated different or the worst is when people take the "baby" tone with me! So frustrating. The one thing that I have stated to my family and friends, is don't feel sorry for me. Its okay to be frustrated with me, but I never want the sympathy card or guilt trip.
Anyways, through this process I will be quite honest. There is only one person that has really seen me cry and it has only been about 4-5 times and that is my husband. Most of these times was due to pain, not my situation. I feel that I have buried the frustration of what I look like and what my life has become. Well... during the fourth I finally had a breakdown with my mom. I hate crying and I hate feeling sorry for myself. But in the end, I'm so glad that I had that breakdown with my mom. It felt like I was five years old again and scraped my knee and Mom was there to make it better.
I realized at this moment how depressed I had become. Instead of rejoicing about the fact that I was down to 7.5 mg. of prednisone, I was paranoid and said well... my muscle enzymes are up so I'll probably just go back up again. I realized that I started to look at the glass half empty instead of half full. I know that I am totally entitled to feel this way sometimes, just as long as I don't stay that way. That's one thing that my mom told me... its okay to let it out. Once I did, I felt a little better. I realized that part of the reason I stopped blogging so much is due to the fact that I didn't have anything nice to say and I come from the rule of, "If you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all." But why did I create this blog... to give people an idea of what living with a chronic illness is like and to possibly connect with people that might be going through the same thing.
Its crazy how life has changed for me, some for the good, some for the worse. I haven't quite figured out what God's plan for me is right now, but I know I'll see the light at the end of the tunnel in the near future.
I have a lung appointment tomorrow. I'm quite anxious for it, but hey... we'll know if the drug is working on my lungs or not. Good or bad, I'll at least have an answer tomorrow.
Sorry for the vent session. I'll end on a positive note with some pictures from this past week. Cheers!
Mia Reece... 16 months old.
Keegan Lee... 3 years old
Keegan and Aunt Maggie
My dad (aka Papa) and the girls before the Big Dig
My mom (aka Gaga) and Keegan
The girls riding "Papa's tractor"
Chris and I (my face has deflated some)
Me and my kitty Snoopy... 16 years old and not doing so hot :(