I’m a Nana again! In 2020, we had our one and only grandson of 14 years. Now we have 4.
Our oldest turned 15 in early February.
Ezekiel and Zy’Aire were both born in 2020.
Greyson was born 2 days ago.
Our oldest grandlove De’Mantai and Zy’Aire are brothers from our oldest daughter, Kharisma.
Ezekiel and Greyson are brothers from our only son and last baby, Kurtis Ozra.
Our second daughter Rikki will most likely never have children. Both of our daughters are in their 30s.
I prayed for this! I can remember being so distraught over my husbands 3rd and 4th heart attacks in 2017 and 2018 that all I could think of is Dear God please give us more grands in our lifetime.
Our oldest grandson lit up our lives. He was born shortly before my husbands first heart attack. The quadruple bypass open heart surgery came shortly after the 2nd in 2012.
Ozra’s 2 sons carry on our name, naturally. My son was the only one to carry it when I gave birth to him. There is another now to carry it as well. Our nieces son, our nephew. He has the family name rather than his father’s.
I’ve been physically limited the last few weeks, more so than normally,, and other than 30 minutes about 9 days ago, I haven’t been able to resume my water PT.
My hair was in a braids bun for at least 10 days. Uncombed, messy. Didn’t care. It was the last thing on any to do list. The important things I had no choice but to do. Getting myself to the bathroom was one of them.
The day Greyson was born I soaked in epsoms and combed my hair out. That was a chore of its own. I went to the patio where my kiddie pool is and just embraced the sunshine, celebrating Greyson.
I couldn’t lower myself into the water, but I sat there in nature thanking Jesus for my blessings. I snapped a selfie so that my new grandlove will know, in the future, that he was my strength that day.
A few people told me I didn’t look old enough to be a grandma. That was kind of them.
I’ve been a Nana since I was 37. I’ll be 53 in about 3 months.
I keep trying to make a positive difference in managing my life for CRPS with comorbidities. I’ve been doing low carbs since March. I’ve attempted my usual summertime physical therapy using a kiddie pool. I do this each year.
Inside the water I can do 20 push-ups! Outside it, zero. In the water, 100 leg slides. Well, that’s what I call them. Outside the water, barely a handful.
I’m always thinking that if I can do enough inside water that it will benefit me outside. If water wasn’t weightless, I couldn’t achieve these.
As far as low carbs, I’m not doing Keto really. I’m just extra mindful of my carbohydrate intake. Generally, staying around 35 net carbs daily.
My kidneys and colon have a hard time with lower carbs. Meat and cheese is my enemy. Our western diets can cause Diverticulosis, or at least contribute to it. I’m sure it contributed to mine. The last time I did low carbs I had intensely painful bouts of Diverticulitis. It took months to settle down entirely.
This time, my right kidney threw a fit. My kidneys are at about 50 percent of normal function. I’ve self managed it fairly well since diagnosis approximately 8 years ago.
I was diagnosed with NAFLD about 10 years ago. I wasn’t drinking alcohol back then.
I’ve already had part of my liver removed for hemangioma, tangled blood vessels. It was during a surgery to remove a remainder of Gallbladder left behind from a Gallbladder surgery a year prior. There’s still more masses on my liver that wasn’t removed.
I haven’t had much pain there since Manual Ligament Therapy in late 2016, early 2017. The therapy was for my CRPS and Spine, but I recieved benefit for other issues, including Gastritis.
Unfortunately, my belly does swell horribly at times, but pain there, for the most part, has been manageable.
I’ve been praying less weight will equal being easier to weight bear. Less impact on my bones. I’ve had Juvinile Arthritis and mild Cerebral Palsy since the beginning of my life.
I don’t know if I had Scoliosis earlier as well, I wasn’t formerly diagnosed with Levoscoliosis until 2016.
What I do know is there’s too many sprains, strains, and fractures, and I’m not entirely sure how to keep them from reoccurring. My muscles are weak. I’ve had vitamin D deficiency for several years, and do take OTC supplements.
Water PT gifts me natural D, sunshine, and nature. It’s a win win when I can get to my patio for it. It’s also my favorite time to thank Jesus for all he does for me, and with me.
Today I remind myself that no matter how it may seem at times, or even how it feels…
I’m still sober. As some of you know, I was drinking to relieve pain associated with CRPS, nerve damage, neuropathy, spinal disorders, and a handful of other things. I’ve also mentioned that while it did help some it also worsened my depression.
In heightened pain, I over think. The worse for me is reliving old traumas, or becoming anxious over things I’ll never be able to change.
We’ll never be able to change anything in the past. We can only change today.
During this sobriety, I’ve been struggling to cope with a situation that developed prior to me quitting drinking and has escalated since.
I’ll need to be vague in order to express myself. I’m not able to reveal what it is. Not here or anywhere else.
It’s not something that I’ve done and it’s not directly related to me yet it is a heavy hurt to carry.
I previously spoke of distraction. This is also something I very much need to be distracted from. I feel deeply pained over it and heartachingly helpless.
If this would’ve happened 3 years ago, I’d have most likely had a drink over it. I’d have lost my shit over this much more than I already have.
I’ve adjusted the volume on pain and emotions.
If I don’t keep myself emotionally stable I’m no good to anyone. This much I know. I do minimize often. In this regard, when someone asks how I’m doing, I just say, okay, or something similar, sometimes with playful rhetoric.
Aren’t most of us the same? We have no one to really talk to, who’ll remain loyal. And we often tell one another “You’re not alone”. The problem with that is that while it’s a nice thing to say, many, are in fact, alone. Some people will listen just to gossip or reveal you to others. The person we could trust, we hesitate to reach out because we don’t want to put our crap on them.
Venting doesn’t help and revealing provokes commentary and opinion.
I know I’d have the support of many with love, care and prayer and I also know that the lurkers and stalkers that don’t support or offer kindness for anything, yet watch your every move, would have a field day as if they’re some kind of perfect in there own lives. Some thrive on judgement.
You might wonder how adjusting my volume on pain and emotions help me. It’s the peace comes with it. No drama comes of it.
The downfall is keeping parts of our lives to ourselves and therefore going through things alone.
Sharing positivity, inspirations, funnies, and my grandchildren are generally the best way out of emotional moments for me. On Factbook, and social media, that is.
My physical self just continues to decline. Depression, I have to keep tucked away or honestly I become more depressed. Let’s face it, a lot people don’t much want to be around unwell people. It doesn’t matter if its physical, mental, alcohol abuse or addiction. I can hardly blame them.
The hardest part of this is that I still have no medical help for my life and so I’m limited in what I can do and the main reason I can’t do what I may have otherwise been able to accomplish with medical assistance.
I have no choice but to endure. I just pray that eventually life’s pileups ease and become less frequent.
This is an important piece in my toolbox. More than ever. It’s always been of value. For many years, advocacy, writing, and poetry were my main distractions. These allowed me to be of use, contribute to society, and nudge my mind in other directions. Limiting focus on what I felt.
Laying up in my own thoughts certainly didn’t help whether a moderate or severe flare or an acute injury and situation. Over thinking can be brutal.. Physical illness with chronic intractable pain is a vicious cycle of depression and anxiety rotating in and out of an already weakened state.
It seems like I’ve already spent a lifetime trying to manage and adjust these cycles.
While my plate remains full, most of it has been replaced with better options. Like any plate it depends on what it contains.
At this point, I couldn’t add any more to it or it would spilleth over and that’s where taking on too much happens. It’s a crash waiting to happen for me.
My three main distractions have become routine.
1. Pray. For myself and others.
2. Church. I’ve attended, online, each Sunday for 16 months.
3. Spanish Lessons. 52 consecutive weeks. 415 days to be exact.
Each of these are from home. It’s hard for me to take on more. I do wish at times that I could. I’ve learned not to dwell on that.
All of our food is home cooked. That’s a daily do. I’m grateful to my husband for the day’s he either gives me a break or steps in when I’m physically unable to accomplish it. Our dogs also have to be fed, and cared for, and that’s daily of course.
Physically, I do as much as possible early mornings. By 2 p.m. I’m struggling . Dinner is generally ready and served by 3:30 p.m. unless my husband is delayed at work. By 5:00 p.m. I can hardly budge.
Shoutout to my crockpot for always having my back.
And to each of my grandson’s whom I love dearly. De’Mantai, Ezekiel, Zy’Aire, and my newest, Greyson, who’ll be born this month.
Recovery is never owned. It is always rented; And the rent is due everyday.
I speak from experience and of a place where recovery in each of these aspects were bleak for some time. Hopeless.
Recovery from anything is badass. Try, try again, if we must, but let’s not stop trying. Eventually the pain lessons. I’m not speaking of physical pain as that isn’t always possible. Many illnesses, progress. The mental pain, anguish, depression and despair that often comes with, can.
I can hardly describe the level of “worn” I had become.
I kept on keeping on though. Trying.
The many years of being a pain patient advocate helped restore purpose from prior years of being bed bound. My Spinal Cord Stimulator permanent implant in 2006 gave me extra life to do so. It may not have been a lot, but it was a lot to me and I was grateful.
The last couple of years I’ve been learning to live without it. I had its benefit for a decade.
Imagine suddenly revising the bit of life it offered to no more or very little once more. That was an ouch on my mental health and I had to recover myself from that loss. I think I’ve mentioned a few times before its still implanted, non working. This year will be 15 years since it first became apart of my body.
For the longest time I found myself adjusting my body to the stimulation that wasn’t on. Habit. I was mindful that it was time to charge my internal battery, yet it wasn’t.
These things may seem odd, but it had been routine for so long.
I’m currently attempting to recover from weight gain. I was doing low carbs in late 2019 when my ankle broke. I fell off that as I was laid up from it for a time being. CoVid emerged and when people were buying and hoarding toilet paper, our only staple became rice. Anything goes with rice. We didn’t have stocked cupboards or pantries full of backup food items. We had rice! The carbohydrates flourished.
I’ve been back on low carbs for about 11 weeks.
Addictions and habits come in many forms. Not all are alcohol or drug related. I know a lot of people with severe sugar addiction. They can’t give it up. In comparison to booze or substances its the same, differently. It creates diabetes and heart disease.
Have you ever heard someone say “at least they’re not on drugs? At least they’re not a alcoholic? I have! Numerous times.
My husband can’t give up his sugar and he has both. He’s had a quadruple open heart surgery and 4 heart attacks. First heart attack at 37 years old and his 4th in 2018 at 51.
Each time he tried and fell back into unhealthy habits.
Is an alcoholic or drug addiction worse than a sugar addiction? I don’t believe so anymore. It’s easy to toss on the stigma for certain groups and minimize the same problem in others, yet sugar kills too. Any bad habit is harmful.
I’m also recovering from his choice to have his snacks. I didn’t want him to. I want him to live. In my own healing, I realized I can’t make him choose better. Only he can do that.
We all, every one of us, has something we do to cope. We all vary. Even Workaholics are consumed by an addiction. I could go on and on.
We have to find our road to recovery within ourselves.
The only person who could help me, or make me stop consuming alcohol was me. You can’t guilt shame people into stopping a bad habit. You know what you really do for them with shaming? Nudge them toward another shot of booze or into reaching for their problem of choice, perhaps a cookie binge.
I use to feel, like many patient advocates had and still do, that drug addicts were the reason that I, an incurable non opioid addict, was denied pain care. That’s not true to me anymore, and it hasn’t been for a few years now.
These people didn’t do this to me. It’s the politics, anti opioid crusaders, PROP, physicians running scared, illicit narcotics, and so forth.
I am still bothered by lack of personal responsibility though. Becoming an addict, misusing, or abusing, isn’t solely everyone else’s fault.
Choice and consequence.
Pain is pain and it’s all semantics anyway.
If you’re sober today, I’m proud of you. If you’re not, I’m praying for you.
Next Friday, the 18th, I’ll be 29 months alcohol free.
I used alcohol in order to cope with chronic illness, comorbidities, intense intractable pain. I did this especially when pain and associated symptoms were out of control, when medication management was denied or delayed by Worker’s Compensation, and ultimately when I was dropped from pain management of 12 years in early 2016.
I can hardly believe I’ve existed since.
I haven’t blogged in some time. If you’ve followed me throughout the years you know that I was also suicidal in 2016-17 and attempts were made.
2016 is when booze came on board for me with more than a few drinks. In 2017, I had backed off from it again, and towards the end of 2018, I was struggling extra without any health related care or management of pain.
January 2021 was also the 20th year of CRPS 2 and the work injuries that caused it.
By this time though, I reached 2 years of sobriety. (January 18, 2019 is when this part of my journey to abstain begun)
My son gifted me this coin. It’s a heart felt reminder of overlapping emotions, the deepest was letting go.
Letting go of fighting for care was major. I’m not chasing or begging anyone, anymore, ever.
I’ve already done that and it killed me inside to be abandoned and discarded in such pain.
Here I am still, over 5 years later, no medications, no treatments, under no physician care whatsoever, with a broken spinal cord stimulator, progression, and…. alcohol free.
Its hard to even describe anymore all that it is physically.
I spent the Saturday before Christmas with my son Ozra, daughter in law, Samantha, and 2 of my grandson’s.
It was our Christmas time together.
Originally, I was just going to go, as is. I decided to dress in Christmas colors and present decently.
There’s no affects or filters on this. The sun coming through the window behind me and my table top tree captured a natural moment.
The smile is real as my son was about to pick me up so that I could be with my Grands.
I’m often quite sloppy. I live in pajamas or sweats. Physically it’s a chore. Constant exertion from painful weight bearing.
Sadly, if I dressed each day, dinner and actual chores wouldn’t get done and often times it’s an achievement to have dinner ready at all, dishes done, dogs fed, and the toilet swooshed.
Some might call that lazy, if it was laziness I’d have an opportunity to change that. I don’t know how to change this.
My grandson Ezekiel is their first son, and my grandson De’Mantai (‘Tai) is my daughter Kharisma’s oldest son.
There was goodness in that day.
And then I went low (depression) and that became heightened by other worries.
When the agony hits the mind becomes frail, too.
I didn’t reveal this as it was occurring.
I thought that while we should be able to reach out to one another, and at times I wanted to, some become bothered by us and to those people we’re just complaining.
That’s why so many feel alone.
The stigma is real.
My low is leveling out. I feel more secure in sharing now.
I know that no one could tell at all. I’ve worked hard to face it to make it, yet I suppose fake it to make it still applies at times, at least outwardly. We don’t want to dampen other people’s mood. I don’t want to effect their own mental health.
I had plans to spend New Years Eve with my son, as well.
It breaks my heart that I couldn’t.
His going away party is in 8 days. They move to Arizona later this month.
CRPS has robbed us all of so much.
I do continue to try to focus on what we do have, what I can do, what we have done rather than the pain in it all.
I helped myself through this sending love and prayers around to others and focusing on good things.
For those who can relate, I see you and feel you more than you’ll ever know.
It’s been one flare after another. From CRPS to my spine. Back and forth, up and down. Head to toe.
Little relief in any of it. Nights are worse and while I’ve worked hard on trying to get to sleep at a decent time and rise earlier again I couldn’t get in any position so far tonight, which is now this morning, that hasn’t caused additional full body strain and pain.
At the moment, I’m tolerating.
Currently, I’m sitting up, pillows propped behind me and at my sides. I’ve taken every supplement on hand. I’ve had to discontinue Ibuprofen and similar NSAIDS. It tore my stomach up this week. Back to Tylenol.
The last time I had a meltdown was late 2018.
So that there’s no misunderstanding my last suicidal episode was January 2017.
This wasn’t any of that.
I’ve been managing RSD/CRPS, clinical depression/Major Depressive Disorder, anxiety, and other chronic illnesses on my own for years now. I’m still adapting to not having use of my Spinal Cord Stimulator. Non working, still implanted.
Life piles on more than I can handle at times. I know I’m not alone in that. If I’m in a flare when something happens, for example, my husbands 4th heart attack in 2018, my ability to take on both the physical and emotional traumas together can cause each to worsen drastically. In 2018, I picked up the booze again for a couple of months.
This recent meltdown just a couple of days ago was better than previous ones because I didn’t think about ending my life, nor did I consider alcohol.
It was intense bouts of tears, fears, choking on air, snotty discharge, gasping for breath, pounding head ache, panic attacks,, my limbs locking,, and I couldn’t in those moments shut those emotions down by just wanting to. I wish it was that simple.
I prayed. Slowed my breathing, grabbed on to thoughts of good, and objects I could see, and eventually I came out of it. It wasn’t the only one this week. I was overwhelmed beyond description.
There was no anger to lash out in any way.
It’s taken 5 years to get this far.
I do remove myself now a days from many situations, but we can’t remove ourselves from everything. Some things require our attention more than others.
Some situations affect us more than others might especially when loved ones are concerned.
They will always be both my weakness and strength.
Small wins are worth celebrating too. Sometimes they’re the biggest wins of all.
This should remain a daily reminder in all of us who live with intractable pain and illnesses.
Depression has a tendency to latch on when physical pain and symptoms become more severe than average.
I have a hard time when a flare has me at an 8 or above on the pain scale. Mental health declines. I know I’m not alone in that and neither are you.
It feels alone though, doesn’t it?
Celebrate those things you’ve achieved in severity.
If you helped someone else laugh for a moment in their own unrelenting pain, despair and uncertainty take a moment within yourself to acknowledge that you did. Thats ok. It may have been all you could give or contribute.