Tag Archives for Mental Health

InkTober 2017: Day 7 – Shy

I learned a lot while using InkTober as a mindful writing exercise last year. The most important thing is that even though it is a challenge that asks participants to draw something each day, one might not always be able to adhere to that schedule. Especially, if you’re someone who has health challenges as I do. I didn’t post yesterday for two reasons. The first is that I woke up in the early twilight hours of the morning because of a high level of leg pain, which was a sign that I wouldn’t be able to push myself. I’m sure someone reading this will wonder how drawing something and writing a few paragraphs is pushing one’s self, but doing those things while feeling a high level of pain requires exerting a lot of energy that’s better spent focussed on self-care.

The other reason I didn’t complete the entry and post it is that it’s a holiday weekend here: Thanksgiving. That means I get to spend time with people who might usually have hectic schedules. Yesterday, I spent some great quality time with my brother. He came to my home early in the afternoon and we spent hours talking and laughing, we barbequed burgers for dinner, and I beat him in two consecutive games of Scrabble. We were enjoying ourselves so much we didn’t realize how late it was until our second game finished just after midnight. Those are the kinds of days we’ve always enjoyed spending together so doing it yesterday even though I wasn’t at my best was great.

However, even with all that going on yesterday I had completed the mindful writing part of my daily challenge, which I edited today to explain not posting it. I was just short on time, and unwilling to rush, to complete the sketch. Therefore, today I’m posting my pieces for the InkTober Day 7 prompt which was the word ‘shy’. I’m still not great at drawing faces, but I think this is a significant improvement.

Here goes:

I was an extremely shy kid. It was hard for me to interact with anyone I didn’t know well. I would look at the ground instead of making eye contact when someone spoke to me. When answering a question, my voice would come out in a soft almost inaudible whisper. I would fidget. My leg(s) especially, would start to involuntarily bounce-shake (I know there’s a technical name for this action but I prefer using this term) at a rapid rate; and my bottom lip would almost get chewed through when I felt uncomfortable in a social situation, which usually meant wearing lipstick was pointless. I still have some of these tells today, but I’ve overcome a lot of my shyness.

Many people I know don’t believe I am or ever was shy. I understand why they might think that and I also now know that some of the things I felt frustrated about and used to believe were insurmountable aspects of my shyness, are not. It’s easier for me to do things I couldn’t when I was growing up after years of practice and, I have to admit, career training and experience. Even though I despise small talk, I can start conversations with strangers if the situation calls for it. I can also deliver a presentation/speech in front of large groups because I learned to put a lot of time into preparation, which may be the best way to ensure you won’t be overcome by nervousness.

Moreover, I’ve learned that I’m not just shy. I’m an introvert. So at times when I don’t feel like being part of a large social group – or any group – it’s not because of my shyness or me being antisocial; it’s because I need the alone time to recharge or think without noise. I also understand that my ability to be the life of the party – when I’m with close friends and family – is not contrary to the definition of introversion; it just means that I feel comfortable and secure with who I’m with and in my surroundings.

Most importantly, I know that there’s nothing wrong with being shy. It’s not a disorder that needs curing. It’s a single aspect of who I am. Besides, not always being in the mix of things gives me the chance to take a step back to assess people and situations – and my needs – to discern what is best for me.

 

InkTober 2017: Day 2 – Divided

Divided: that’s a loaded word for me. For a long while, I’ve been feeling that my life is divided. It got that way four years ago, on the day my illness showed up. I didn’t know it then but, since the first moments, it divided time into before and after illness. I’ve tried not to think of my life that way, at least not from a negative perspective, because I know that my life is greater than these two dimensions. However, the truth is, I have to acknowledge that my life is not the same.

It may never be what it was before the day two extra-strength Tylenols weren’t enough to soothe the pain as it grew in my lower abdomen. It may never be the same as it was before I lost control of my trembling body. Trembling that became uncontrollable shaking because the pain was so overwhelming. My life may never be the same as it was before the ambulance ride that took an eternity to get me to the hospital emergency room. Before the months of multiple doctors’ misdiagnoses or the reluctant surgeon’s year of waffling about whether she could or would ever try to help me by doing the surgery she trained to do. Nor may it become the same, as after illness, since finally having surgery didn’t result in the end of any of my pain.

The interesting thing is that the space I occupy now is nowhere near after illness. It can’t possibly be when there are moments when all I can think about is freeing my body of pain and when that pain-free time will become permanent. My current existence is probably better characterized as ‘since illness’, which is an altogether different division. So far, each pain treatment I’ve undergone has delivered negligible short-lived relief or completely failed; and if the ongoing pain treatments are any indication, I may never achieve an after illness state.

Yet, I must continue living without losing hope, or my sanity. I have to keep myself grounded to avoid causing myself unnecessary grief because, as I’ve been taught: suffering is wanting something other than what exists in the present moment. Therefore, looking back at what was in my past (before illness) or what’s in store for my future (after illness) is unhelpful.

My life didn’t stop because of my illness. Although I fully accept that it changed, there’s no need to divide it into pieces and compartmentalize events into good and bad. I will, however, continue to live in the present, mindful of focussing on each moment as it comes.

The image I’ve chosen today to illustrate the word divided is a pie. We divide whole pies into slices to feed others and ourselves. If a thing must be divided I prefer to look at the possible positive outcomes from its division.

 

The Pill Box

Every week, either late Saturday night or at early light Sunday morning, I go through the ritual of filling my pillbox with my medications. My pillbox has 28 compartments. Each gets filled with a varying number of medications in the form of pills or capsules. On average, I take a combination of about 32 pills and capsules each day. However, the 32 pills and capsules don’t account for all the medications I take daily because I have others that come in different forms i.e. liquids, inhalers, and – on the odd occasion when my gastrointestinal system protests against ingesting certain types of oral pharmaceuticals – suppositories. Early on in my illness, I was even prescribed a topical anesthetic for pain that came in patch-form, but it did little to reach the source of the pain deep in my pelvis.

The largest part of the pills and capsules that fill each pillbox compartment are medications I take to manage my pain. They aren’t all opioids/narcotics, but the majority of what’s in the compartments usually is. Unfortunately, not all these medications always do what they are prescribed to do. Therefore, over the last four years there have been many changes made to my medications. Changes in doses are usually an increase in strengths – as petite as I am I seem to need large doses to manage my pain –, but I’ve learned that dose increases doesn’t have to mean an increase in quantity. Some medications have also been swapped for others of equal strength when they have caused unexpected side effects or delivered no benefit at all after weeks and in some cases, months of hoping for some relief with them; and occasionally new medications get added to the mix in an effort to boost the benefits of what works.

The Pill Box – 1

The Pill Box – 2

Sometimes, the number of pills and capsules I take might fluctuate from day-to-day. That fluctuation depends on whether my doctor(s) writes prescriptions for medications with a minimum and maximum dose. Because my pain medications are largely opioids/narcotics, I try – not always successfully – to take the lower end of a prescribed dose when possible to manage my pain. My Pain Specialist prescribes my primary pain medication in two forms. The first is a long-acting opioid/narcotic prescribed to be taken multiple times each day that is intended to manage my pain for a scheduled period. The second is a breakthrough or ‘rescue’ dose of that same opioid/narcotic that I take in between the long-acting doses; especially in times when my pain levels are high, which is most of the time. I try to take that breakthrough medication on the lower end of the prescribed dose(s), when I’m having a good day, which is rare; or if I’m lucky enough to sleep through the night the overnight breakthrough dose gets skipped.

The main point of having a pillbox is to make sure I don’t miss scheduled medication doses because I take so many throughout the day. Unbelievably, I’m not always successful and might miss a dose of something from time to time, whether it’s because I get distracted or I’m fortunate enough to get some restful sleep. Nonetheless, the brightly coloured compartments of the pillbox that I fill with brightly coloured pills and capsules is my constant companion and may remain so as long as I need a reminder to take 32 pills and capsules – give or take a few – each day.

If you don’t have a pillbox, how do you remember to take your daily doses of multiple medications?