Chronic health condition, Depression, Doctors, Exhausted, Family, Grief, misunderstood, Mother and daughter, Tired

Behind The Mask

Behind my mask I am struggling everyday and I am trying to be the strongest that I can be.

A lot of doctors have no idea about mental health illnesses like depression and anxiety. It astounds me when a medical professional (especially if they’re in the mental health field) says or does something completely wrong knowing that you are mentally ill.¬†

I had an appointment with my gastroenterologist the other month and it was the day after Chase’s birthday or death, I can’t quite remember… Anyway so I was obviously more upset than normal and crying more, so I went into his office and had my appointment and told him how I’m really struggling at the moment and he only said ‘Well of course you are’, yeah that’s fine whatever, but when I went back two months later, I had been having a really hard time and feeling suicidal the week before the appointment so I went in and he asked me how I was going and I said ‘not good at all actually’ and he just said ‘well you look like you’re doing a lot better which is good’ and mum was with me this time and she spoke up and said ‘no, she really hasn’t been doing well and she’s really struggling’. Bob (my gastroenterologist) cut her off and argued with mum saying that I look like I am doing better and then I spoke up and said ‘just because I’m not crying doesn’t mean I’m feeling any better.’ Bob just stayed quiet and ignored that and went on to ask me about how my gastro symptoms are going. I felt so belittled by Bob and like he didn’t understand mental illnesses at all. It was a really horrible moment.

In the past a similar thing has happened and it was even harder because it was in a special mental health school. The teachers’ always thought that because I had smiled or laughed that day I was automatically not depressed anymore and they would treat me differently. My case worker saw that and understood how I was feeling, so quite a few times he had to remind those teachers that just because I smiled or laughed doesn’t mean I’m all better now. Sometimes I feel very ¬†misunderstood by doctors and it’s really hard to understand because they’re medical professionals and you would expect them to have at least done a psych rotation at medical school right?¬†

The other day mum was at the doctor and a couple of days before mum’s appointment I saw that doctor. Mum has her appointment and the doctor tells mum that I’m doing quite well and I look like I’m doing good; or something like that.¬†
Just because I have clean clothes on and I brushed my hair doesn’t mean that I’m not struggling every day. What do doctors expect a depressed person to look like? Do us depressed people just have to walk around in our pyjamas all day with knotted hair and not having washed for a month? Or do us depressed people not get out of bed ever? But then how are we meant to go to the medical professionals to get help? And if we stay in our pyjamas all day not caring about self hygiene or stay in bed all the time and we do go to the medical professionals for help, they say that we’re not helping ourselves and making ourselves worse by not getting dressed and brushing our hair! So really, it seems that we can’t win.¬†

A month ago I got into a really bad depressive slump and I was very suicidal and nearly ended up in the pysch hospital again. My mum called my psychologist because she was worried about me and didn’t know what to do and my psychologists answer was to take me out to lunch! Because when I’m feeling like killing myslef because I see no reason to live, the only thing I want to do is go to a busy place for lunch and hang around outside! No, what I actually want to do is take my medication that knocks me out and go to bed until I feel like I’m not going to harm myself. When my psychologist said that, I felt so… I don’t even know what emotion I felt! I honestly couldn’t believe she had said that.

You kind of lose faith in the medical system when people who are meant to help you say such unhelpful and ignorant stuff.  

¬†I feel like I have gotten very good at hiding how depressed and hopeless I am. I’ve had to implement my poker face since Chase died. No one I have ever met has seen through it and seen how much I am struggling. It’s so tiring being so strong all the time and keeping my sh*t together. I just want to stay in bed all day where it’s warm and I don’t have to worry about anything outside my bedroom. I don’t know who I am outside of being majorly depressed, anxious and chronically ill.
I go to my appointments and I get dressed and I have showers and brush my hair and brush my teeth and wash my face, I do all this stuff and just because I do it, it doesn’t mean that I’m suddenly not depressed and mentally stable.¬†

I am broken and I will never be whole again. There will always be a part of me missing that Chase took when he died. I will always be grieving and some days it will be too hard and I WILL stay in bed all day and cry.
Being strong is good but breaking down is also good. I can’t always be strong.

I don’t know what the doctors need to see that I am struggling. My anxiety and depression are overwhelming a lot of the time but I keep going because it’s the only choice I have. I’m so sick of doctors and their small minded ideas of mental illnesses.
If doctors want to see me when I’m at my lowest then come on over to my house and watch me cry myself to sleep and cry so hard I start hyperventilation or I cry so hard that I feel like I’m going to throw up or see the look on my face when I think about everything I struggle with every day or the nosies I make because I’m so sad and I just want to die. If they want to see that to prove to them that I am in fact not doing well and depressed then they can.
I keep myself together so I can help mum because she can’t lose another child. I am struggling and I just want people to see that and acknowledge that and not assume that because I’m smiling or laughing I’m not dying inside. All I want is to be understood.

Behind my mask I am struggling everyday and I am trying to be the strongest that I can be.   

Keep safe,
Maddy xoxo 

Feel free to follow me on twitter!

 

 

Advertisements
Standard
Body image, Fat shaming, Feminism

Fat Shaming Women ūüė†

200w_d

Lets talk about fat shaming women shall we? It infuriates me that in 2017 we are still naming and shaming people who are ‘fat’. I hate that word so much and everything that it stands for. Being ‘fat’ isn’t a bad thing at all.

There’s a stigma attached to being ‘fat’ and that is: that all ‘fat’ people are lazy and unhealthy. This is just NOT true!!! Why is it that to be classified as desirable and beautiful in today’s society we all have to be slim, toned with no imperfections with our body. We’re not allowed to have stretch marks or body hair and we all have to be under 60kgs. This just isn’t possible unless someones invents a robot and duplicates it and kills all us ‘fat’ and imperfect women.
It is scientifically proven that some people in their DNA are built to be curvy and not stick thin, but that doesn’t matter to most people; they look at us ‘fat’ people and imagine in their head everything they would do to us to make us thin and what society says we should be. They’re also probably making a meal plan to whip us into shape. I know for a fact that my body is naturally curvy and not straight up and down.¬†

I’ve always been overweight I even wrote a blog post about it (https://depresssedmesswithanxietyandgrief.wordpress.com/2016/01/29/always-always-always-the-fat-friend/). I’ve also always been bullied and ridiculed and judged because of my weight and what the number on the scale said. Even the teachers at school would make a face when they would write my weight down after I got weighed during P.E class. ¬†
There is absolutely no reason that being overweight and not under 60kg should affect us or anybody else out there. We should be able to look the way we look and be confident and happy about it and not go out and feel like everyone is looking at you and judging you because of the size that you are. 

I honestly don’t think I’d care how I looked if I didn’t grow up with society’s words in my head that ‘fat’ is unhealthy and no good and skinny is great and what you need to be. I don’t need to be anything except me and yet I feel as though I can’t do that because everywhere I look someone is telling me different and that what I look like isn’t ok.¬†

There is nothing wrong with being different. Why would we all want to be and look the same? That would be so boring. 
I wish we could all grow up in a world where being overweight is ok and being skinny is ok and just being yourself is ok. 

In the olden days if you were ‘fat’ it was good! It meant that you were wealthy and of the upper class and if you were skinny you were poor and of the lower class because you couldn’t afford to eat.¬†

Being a female in today’s society is hard enough without the added pressure and judgment of being not the ideal weight. We are looked down upon my men as being less than them and being overweight just adds more fuel to their ‘I’m better than all women’ fire. ¬†If a man is overweight he is no where near as judged like a woman being over weight is judged. And isn’t it ironic that a lot of the men judging us and discriminating against us because of our weight are over weight themselves?¬†

It’s so wrong that we still feel the need for a man’s approval of how we act, look, talk and behave. We are the only people who need to seek approval of ourselves, no one else has that right.¬†

We need to start telling future women that being ‘fat’ and overweight is ok and there’s nothing to be ashamed of if you are. Future women should be able to go out into the world feeling confident about themselves and not like they have to hide and try to blend into the crowds.¬†

I wish everyday that when I woke up and looked in the mirror I was happy about what I saw and not disgusted.
When I look in the mirror all I see are my stretch marks and flabby bits and my big thighs and my flabby arms. I don’t see anything past that.¬†

I have spent the past 4 years trying to lose weight and become skinny. Some ‘fat’ women are totally confident in their body and I think that that’s amazing and I applaud them but for me personally I can’t stand my body. In the past year and a half I have lost 16kgs and that’s great but it’s not even half way. Deep down I don’t feel like I’m meant to be ‘fat’ and overweight, I feel like I should be slim. I also have a health conditions that makes me gain weight but most of the time I forget about that and just hate on myself instead of being kind to myself and loving myself.¬†

A lot of my social anxiety comes from my weight and how I think I am perceived by other people when I’m out. I’m now at the point that when I go out with mum to eat I am acutely aware of all the people around me and wondering of they’re judging me on what I eat and looking to see how much I am eating. I can never relax and just be me.¬†

Can we also talk about how sh** the BMI scale is?! Ugh!!!

We all need to learn how to love ourselves and be able to look in the mirror and say “I am beautiful and I am worthy of love and I love myself.”

I really do hope that one day society can see ‘fat’ and overweight women as equals and as humans who deserve the same respect and treatment as skinny people.¬†

There’s this lady on Instagram who is all about body positivity you should go check her out:¬†https://www.instagram.com/bodyposipanda/?hl=en

Also check out Clementine Ford, she’s all about feminism and is great:¬†https://www.instagram.com/clementine_ford/?hl=en

Keep safe,
Maddy xoxo 

Feel free to follow me on twitter: https://twitter.com/Its_me_MaddyO

 

 

 

 

 

Standard
Depression, Family, Mother and daughter

The Real Life Gilmore Girls

Mum and I are like the real life Gilmore Girls. Mum and I are incredibly close and she is my best friend; I honestly wouldn’t know what to do with myself if I didn’t have mum in my life and she wasn’t my mum.

Like I said before she is my best friend but also my sister, father, aunt, grandma, daughter and all round the greatest person ever.
Although mum is a lot like Lorelai I don’t think I’m that much like Rory because to be honest I think Rory is rude, spoilt, selfish and not very respective to her mum.

I love my mum more than anything on this earth. She is the most resilient, strong, loyal, caring, smart, beautiful, loving, empathetic, compassionate, generous, funny, witty, angelic, kind, ambitious, amusing, brave, conscientious, courageous, easygoing, friendly, gentle, helpful, and honest person I know and will ever meet.
Mum has been through so much in her life and the fact that she is still living and this amazing after all that she’s been through is astounding. She really is my role model and inspiration.

Mum and I have always gotten along, we don’t really fight about anything and if we do we get over it pretty quickly.
When we were living at Michael’s we were close but definitely¬†not as close as we are now. ¬†We couldn’t be as close as we are now because Michael was such a jealous freak and would try to come between us all the time. I think the trauma that we’ve gone through has definitely made us closer.

Mum and I have a lot of mutual respect for each other and we’re equals so I think that’s partly why we get along so well. Don’t get me wrong, ¬†I listen to her when she tells me ‘off’ but from day to day we’re equals. The other reasons we get along so well is because we also have a lot of¬†love, loyalty and honesty towards each other.¬†Mum respects me as a person and my decisions and I respect her as a person and her decisions.

Mum and I have an incredibly special bond, it’s a bond like no other. She is one of my soul mates and I am thankful every day that I get to spend my whole life with her.
Mum and I have so many laughs because we have a similar sense of humour so we laugh at things that are pretty inappropriate and that others wouldn’t find funnyūüėā.

My mum is my rock and I know she will always be there for me and I will always be there for her. We have supported each other throughout these 4 years of hardship and there is no way I could have gotten through it without my Mumma Bear.

Mum is a cool mum, she’s the type of mum that all your friends love because she gives great advice and is more like part of the group than the adult of that friend.

tenor.gif

Here’s the letter I wrote to her a few posts ago:
https://depresssedmesswithanxietyandgrief.wordpress.com/2017/03/06/a-letter-to-my-mumma-bear/

I don’t think there is much else I can say about our relationship except that it’s incredibly special and no one will ever be able to come between us and the friendship that we have.

Love you Mum!!!

Keep safe everyone and I hope that you have your own Lorelai in your life.
Maddy xoxo

tenor-1.gif

Feel free to follow me on Twitter: https://twitter.com/Its_me_MaddyO

 

Standard
Body image, Chronic health condition, Depression, Doctors, Gastroparesis, gluten free, Misdiagnosing, Uncategorized, Vegan

Misdiagnosing

Misdiagnosing a patient isn’t something a doctor wants to do but sadly it happens. Doctors are only human after all; even if they do act like they’re better than everyone and everything.¬†

I myself have been misdiagnosed a couple of times in the 3 years it’s taken me to finally get an accurate diagnosis. My chronic fatigue was easily diagnosed but diagnosing my gastroparesis hasn’t gone well at all!¬†

3 years ago I started getting really bad stomach aches and would alternate between diarrhoea and then constipation with a lot of blood in my stool. I was also bloated and looked pregnant (I still do but the doesn’t matter at the moment). Anyway, mum and I went to the emergency room at the Royal Childrens Hospital 4 times because of my double over stomach pains and the blood in my stool and every time they would do a blood test and then send me home. They never did anything more than take my bloods and get me to talk to a doctor. They referred me to one of their gastroenterologists and got me to talk to a social worker. They really weren’t any help at all. Well, I saw the gastroenterologist and he put me on the waiting list for a colonoscopy and endoscopy; that was meant to happen in April and I finally got in in November (even though I was on the category 2 list). I got the scopes done and the gastroenterologist told me that nothing was wrong and to come back in a couple of months.
Of course mum and I weren’t happy with that so we got a referral from my GP to see a paediatrician and to see if he could help. We went and saw the paediatrician and he straight away diagnosed me with the chronic fatigue which was great because now I had an answer to that and also to my heart problems but we originally went there for the stomach issues so we told him all about it and what had happened. I think it’s important that I also tell you that I was in the psych ward at this time. Anyway, so he basically told me that I was obese and needed to lose weight and then all my stomach issues would go away. He also made me get an X-ray which he told me was normal but when I went to my new gastroenterologist he told me that it WASN’T normal and that I needed to fix the issue ASAP. So after telling me that I was obese, grabbing my fat, telling me there was nothing was wrong with me and making me get an X-ray and then saying it was fine when it wasn’t he sent me on my merry way and told me to come back in a year or never if I didn’t need to see him.

I mentioned before that I was in the psych ward and that I thought that that was important to mention because what doctor who knows that you’re in the psychiatric unit at the hospital and knows that you have problems with your weight tells you that you’re obese and that you need to lose all the weight and then you’ll be fine? I was obviously in the psych unit because I wasn’t doing well and I had told him that part of the reason I was in there was because of my weight gain. Safe to say that I never went back to him!¬†

After that failure with the paediatrician¬†mum and I went back to my GP to get another referral to see a different gastroenterologist (Lets call him Bob) ¬†because nothing with my stomach had improved and it was actually getting worse and not better. So off we went to see another gastroenterologist; this time it was privately and hella expensive. Bob thought I had ulcerative colitis at first and put me on steroids and another medication he also booked me into hospital for another colonoscopy and MRI. I ended up staying in hospital for a week while we tried to figure out what was wrong with me. I had the colonoscopy done and once again nothing showed up and nothing showed up on my MRI either. I was so frustrated when nothing showed up, I didn’t want ulcerative colitis but I also didn’t want to not have an answer. I was tired of seeing doctors and getting told there was nothing wrong with me when I KNEW there was something wrong with me. I got discharged from hospital and went back to see Bob. He told me that he didn’t know what was wrong with me and then sent me home and told me that I had to do a bowel flush out every month. If you’ve ever had to do a bowel flush out to get ready for a colonoscopy or just because like me, then you know how disgusting it is. I mixed it with apple juice and now I can’t drink apple juice, I also used a certain glass for the flush out liquid and now I can’t even drink from that glass because it reminds me of the flush out and how disgusting is. Yuuuck.
So I did that and it didn’t help with the symptoms at all so I went back and he told me to try this medication which I did and it didn’t help at all; it made me feel really sick. Sent me back home. I went back to Bob a few months later and he said that I should do a gastric emptying study. So I did that test and… FINALLY an answer! My stomach empties 1.5 to 2 hours slower than the normal stomach. I asked him if it was gastropareis as I had been doing my research and he said yes. So there you go, after 3 years I finally got diagnosed with a rare and horrible disease called gastroparesis. Bob hasn’t told me anything about it so I’ve had to learn what I can on the internet and through Facebook groups. He also said that I need to see a pelvic physio who I’ve been seeing and has given my exercises to help me relax my pelvic floor and to help my bowel motions come out a bit easer and for other stuff…¬†

Bob put me on a new medications and it has really helped. I can now eat most meals without getting double over stomach aches and horrible nausea. The medication doesn’t work all the time so I still get the stomach aches and nausea but it’s not every meal I eat. I’m still bloated all the time and look pregnant which really gets me down. I pretend with mum to have maternity shoots and pose in funny positions because it’s easier to laugh about the way I look than to remember and think about the fact that I’m 18 and look pregnant even though I’m not and that I will always look pregnant and be bloated. Since Iv’e lost weight the bloating has become a bit smaller so I’m hoping that the more weight I lose the smaller the bloating will get. But that’s another thing, gastroparesis can cause either weight loss or weight gain and I suffer from the weight gain aspect of it so it is so ridiculously hard to lose the weight that I’ve gained. It takes me months just to lose 500 grams and that’s with walking every day. I also eat pretty well. I’m vegan and gluten free and I don’t eat much junk food at all. It’s so discouraging and annoying to try so hard and to not see results.¬†

Since Bob hasn’t told me anything about gastroparesis and I’ve had to google it, I’ve come across some scary facts about it. I never knew it was such a serious illness! People die from it and it’s scary. I’m not saying that I’m going to die from it but I am worried that I will get worse and I’ll end up with a feeding tube in hospital not being able to eat or drink… Gastroparesis is scary and I’m scared.¬†

So, here I am! Finally got my stomach issues diagnosed along with my chronic fatigue. Now I just have to get my fibromyalgia verifed and diagnosed. 

Keep safe,
Maddy xoxo 

Follow me on twitter if you’d like xx

PS- I got a puppy! Her name is Asher and I’m going to train her to be a therapy dog and get her certified so she can go everywhere with me and support me out there in the scary anxiety inducing world!¬†

DDC2cnDUwAAFl3f.jpg-thumb.jpeg

Standard
Death, Depression, Family, Grief, Step-father

What happens after (Part II)

This post is a little traumatic when talking about my brother, proceed with caution.

So we’ve covered the horrible step-father, getting kicked out of home and the plethora of health conditions, now we’re going to cover my brother dying and then write about my anxiety, depression and my suicidality in part 3.

My brother dying:

I was at the pain clinic for the day getting all my assessments done and I was talking to the psychologist and she asked me if my brother dying was a shock to me and I just thought what a stupid question that was to ask. No, I totally knew Chase was going to die and it wasn’t a shock at all (include heavy sarcasm when reading that). Like seriously? Who even asks that?! Of course it was a shock!¬†The psychologist also asked me to explain what it was like Chase dying, it was not only a shock but a heart breaking experience that I will never ever be able to articulate and understand. I will never be able to explain how it was¬†to watch Chase loose all his motor functions and the ability to walk, talk, eat and eventually breathe. I will never be able to explain what it felt like when I literally saw him take his last breath or what it was like to see his little blue coffin with superheroes all over it get lowered into the ground. Or how he looked before we nailed the coffin shut. Those memories will haunt me for as long as I will live. So yes psychologist lady, it was a complete shock when Chase died.

On May 31st it will be 4 years since Chase died and I still haven’t fully come to understand what that means. I’ve mentioned Chase before and a few memories but I thought that I will write down the whole experience in this post.

Here it goes:

It was a Thursday evening at home and Mum had noticed that one side of Chase’s face seemed to droop a little bit. She then asked him to do some pushups and he couldn’t do them (he always could, he was a strong little man) and when he stood up he was all dizzy and nearly fell over. This was not normal behaviour and now we were all a bit worried. The next day (Friday) Mum took him to the Royal Children’s Hospital to get him checked out. She was there all day and all night. When I got home from school on Friday Michael had to go into the hospital because Mum called him telling him that a neurologist and oncologist wanted to talk to them because they had found something on Chase’s MRI. Michael drove us all in (Michael, Dusty and me) into the hospital and we met Micahel’s brother Paul there. Michael left us with Paul and went to go find Mum.
I didn’t know what was happening and what was wrong wth Chase or that Mum and Michael had to have a meeting with the oncologist and neurologist, I learnt this later on when Mum told me. Paul took us (Dusty and me) to McDonalds and then to get ice-cream at the Docklands. Paul wouldn’t tell me anything that was happening and after the ice-cream he drove us home. I had to go into the Royal Children’s the next day (Saturday) for an MRI of my shoulder. Paul drove us in that morning and we met Mum in Chase’s room. I still didn’t know what was wrong. Mum was crying and Chase was just sitting on the bed playing with one of his toys. I got the MRI of my shoulder done and I drove home with Mum and Chase. In the car when Chase was sleeping I asked Mum what was wrong and she started crying again, I asked if Chase needed brain surgery and she said no. She then said to me “Maddy, Chase is VERY sick.” I then started crying also and asked if he has cancer, Mum said yes and then I yelled out “NO” and told her that I thought she was lying. Mum said she was sorry and that she would tell me everything tonight. We went home and Chase wanted muffins so I made him some muffins. That night when he was asleep Mum told me that Chase had Diffused Intrinsic Pontine Glioma (DIPG) and that it was terminal and that he didn’t have much longer to live.

My aunty drove up from her farm Sunday and we had all our family come over. I took Monday and Tuesday off school. On Tuesday Mum and Michael went back to the hospital to talk to some more doctors about what could be done. Basically nothing, Chase could’ve had radiation and chemo but it would’ve been for every day for 6 weeks and it would’ve only made him sicker and not actually help anything and even if it did shrink the tumour a little bit and give him another few months he would’ve spent those months in hospital incredibly sick from the chemo and radiation. So Mum and Michael decided against doing any of that and took him home: plus Chase hated hospitals.
I went back to school on Wednesday and got the school counsellor there to tell my home group and teachers what was happening. We didn’t tell Chase what was happening, he was only 5 but he was so clever and smart that he knew what was going to happen to him anyway. He started asking Mum questions about death and what happens after you die which was weird because he had never asked those questions before and he was only 5 and what 5 year old asks about that stuff?

We had an early Christmas and birthday because we didn’t know if he was going to make it past his birthday and to Christmas. The ¬†Make A Wish foundation funded the birthday party for Chase. They hired a limo, had people dress up as superheroes, rented out Ace Space, got a birthday cake made and presents donated. They did a great job and I thank Make A Wish for everything that they did.

Chase started deteriorating pretty rapidly; from diagnosis date to the day he died it was 12 weeks. March 8th to May 31st. Chase lost the ability to walk so he had to be carried everywhere and then the ability to talk, swallow properly and then to breath.

I was still having to go to school and do all that, that was because of Michael. If I had it my way I would’ve been at home with my brother who was going to die and spending as much time with him as I could.
Chase only really wanted Mum throughout the whole thing. She was amazing and I will never know how she did it. She literally became an angel and looked after Chase with so much love and support. My heart aches for her when thinking about everything she went through.
With Chase only wanting mum it was hard for me to spend any time with him. I did teach him to play crocodile crocodile though and that was nice. I don’t resent Mum or Chase for that, but it does hurt that I wasn’t able to spend as much time with him as I would’ve liked…

Now to the hardest part, the day he died:

It was a Thursday and I got up to go to school. Chase wasn’t awake when I left so I don’t even remember what the last thing was that I said to him or did with him was.
I came home from school and the palliative nursers and doctors had come during the day when I was at school. When I got home from school Chase was in his bed with a whole lot of needles in him for the medications they put him on (pain meds and stuff like that). I knew then that he wasn’t going to be around for much longer, I just didn’t know he was going to die a few hours later. The offical date and time that he died was Friday, May 31st 2013 at 12:12am.
At around 6pm on Thursday his breathing started to change and mum rang the palliative care team. They listened to it over the phone and told us that it won’t be much longer, I sat on his bed for most of the night holding his hand while mum was laying next to him. I also took a lot of pictures because I knew this was the last time that I would be able to. Chase was unconscious the whole time.
Mum stayed with him in bed while Michael, Dusty, Mum’s friend Anna, Dusty’s grandparents and me watched a movie in the lounge room. It wasn’t my choice to do that but anyways…
At 12:10 am (Friday morning) Mum yelled out Michael’s name and we all went running down to Chase’s room. Chase had died in Mum’s arms. We all stood there crying and watching him. He then he took a breath; the hope that I felt in that moment was like nothing I will ever feel again. I can’t even explain it, but then he breathed out and didn’t breath again, that was at 12:12am.
I literally saw my brother take his last breath. I can’t tell you what happened after that as I don’t really remember. I do remember Mum and Michael washed him and put him in new clothes but I don’t remember much else. I do remember that I finally went to bed at 4am and when I woke at 8am, Anna and I went and drove to pick Holly up (she was living in a share house somewhere). At 4pm, my friend Casey came over and she spent some time with me while her mum spent time with my Mum.

Mum and Michael decided to do the funeral themselves and not take Chase to a funeral home as they’re evil and don’t take care with people’s loved and departed ones. They hired a mobile fridge that was plugged in in the carport and put him in his little coffin and that’s where he stayed until Wednesday June 5th, 2013 when we buried him.

There were a lot of people at Chase’s funeral. It was no where near a ‘celebration of his life’. It was depressing, sad and tragic that we were having to bury our 5 year old son and brother. Mum wrote his eulogy and the funeral speaker lady read it out. I wrote a poem and I read that out myself.

Here it is:

Our lives go on without you Chase but nothing is the same.
Our broken hearts are opened wide when someone speaks your name.
I don’t know how we’re going to live a life that you’re not in and never again hear those superhero songs you loved to sing.
You’ll always be my baby brother that I kissed and held so tight and that is what I think about in the coldness of the night.
I love you Chase

After that was done we carried his coffin over to his grave and lowered him in, we then each got a handful of dirt and threw it on. There was a wake afterwards at the pub, we went to that and at around 4 I got a lift home from my neighbours. The next Monday, Michael made me go to school and we were made to continue with life as if nothing had happened and that we didn’t just watch Chase die and bury him. I still can’t believe Michael was able to start again that soon afterwards.
I had a really hard time at school with friends and classes. I spent a lot of my time in the Wellbeing Centre crying and trying to figure how I was meant to go on with life without my baby brother next to me.

I love Chase so much and he was my best friend. He was the sibling I connected with and got along with the most. He was my personal superhero and I miss him every single day. I think about him every day and every day I wish he was still here with me. Chase shouldn’t have died, he should still be here growing up and living and experiencing everything life has to offer. He would be 9 now if he was still alive and in primary school probably being the smartest kid in his class. He was so smart, loving, caring and such a beautiful soul. He was so wise and everybody who met him felt like they had encountered something special. Chase was everything and he was taken away by cancer. I still ask so many questions to myself and to my counsellors about why he died and why it was him and I will never get the answers that I’m looking for. I will never know why he died or why it was him. Chase left a big hole in my heart that will never be filled and I will continue to miss him and love him and cherish the memories I do have with him.

Chase will forever live in our hearts and he will never be forgotten. 

My psychologist gave me a quote when I first started seeing her from Jon Kabat-Zinn and that quote was: You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.
I honestly think that that quote covers grief. Grief does come in waves and I am learning to surf those waves and to try not to let them drown me. Grief is so incredibly complex and no one can compare you for what it feels like. 

I love you Chase. 

Keep surfing everyone,
Maddy xoxo 

372962-Jon-Kabat-Zinn-Quote-You-can-t-stop-the-waves-but-you-can-learn-to.jpg

Standard
Abuse, Body image, Chronic health condition, Death, Depression, Exhausted, Family, Grief, Step-father, Tired

What happens after (Part 1)

What happens after you have a horrible step-father, your brother dies, you’re kicked out of your home, you get a plethora of health conditions, you become incredibly depressed, you become suicidal and you have such bad anxiety that some days you can’t even look out the windows or leave the house because of how anxious you feel? What happens after all that? Well, it changes you in ways you didn’t know even existed and you learn to live with everything as sad as it sounds. How I’ve felt for the past 4 years has become my normal and that’s so depressing because my new normal is sh**! The only good thing I still have is my mum, that’s all. One person keeping me here on earth.¬†

I think I’ll talk about each issue separately starting with Michael:

A week after Chase died I was forced back to school by my horrible step-father, he went to work and my poor mum was left at home to deal with the silence and horrendous memories of the house alone. We were all forced to go back to normal by Michael (horrible¬†step-father) but how were we meant to go bak to normal when our normal had changed so drastically and completely in 12 weeks? I don’t understand how he was able to get up and go to work so soon after! Like what?! Who does that?¬†Michael also thought that two weeks after we buried my brother he would talk to me about how I’ve put on a little bit of weight and how I need to loose that and be more active outside. Yeah thanks Michael, that really helped. Psychotic asshole.¬†

¬†Michael was what you didn’t want in a father or step-father. He was angry, mean, cruel, hurtful, cold, selfish, fake, narcissistic, jealous, abusive and the biggest asshole to walk this planet. He was so mean and cruel to me for no reason. He used to tell me that I was fat and lazy and that I will end up smoking bongs on the couch doing noting with my life. After dinner when I would wash the dishes he would just sit in his spot at the head of the table and glare at me for no reason. I could feel him staring at me and judging me and sending his hate towards me while I was cleaning the pots and pans. He used to also lock me outside after I got home from school because he wanted me to spend more time outside and my mum couldn’t do anything because if she spoke up he would punish the rest of us and not give us money for food or firewood for the heater or water for the water tank and then mum, my brothers and I would all have to suffer at the hands of his anger. Mum stood up for me when he really crossed the line but in the end I learnt how to keep out of his way and stay away from him. When he wasn’t home after I would come home from school that was when mum and I caught up but as soon as I heard his truck or car come up the driveway I would run up to my room and not come back down until dinner time.¬†
I didn’t have much of a social life because all of my friend were scared and didn’t¬†like Michael, they didn’t want to come over and talk or see him and I don’t blame them, I didn’t want to be there either. I would often think¬†about running away but then where would I go? And leave mum there alone? I don’t think so plus I had no where to go.¬†

Michael started being mean to me at around the age of 10 as I was getting my own thoughts and feelings towards people and individuating into my own person. He didn’t like that I started seeing him as he was and not as the perfect do no wrong step-father I always thought he was. When I turned a little older that’s when the real glaring, judgement and negative comments would come.
When he and mum were fighting he would all of a sudden be nice to me and pay an interest in my stuff but that would only last until mum sucked up and apologise to him. Once they were back together and ‘all good’ again he would go back to not paying any interest in me and my school stuff and ignore my reports that I would want to show him because I got A’s and I was proud of that.¬†

Michael thought he knew everything about everything when in fact he knew very little. I understand that because he was raised by not very warm and loving parents and he grew up the hard way moulds him into who he is today but I don’t understand why he then has to teach his kids and treat his kids how he was treated. He never loved me, he saw me as a nuisance and a road block in the way of what he really wanted which was mum. When we used to go out as ‘one big happy family’ Michael would literally push me out of the way if I was walking next to mum because he wanted to walk next to her instead; how petty is that? I’m just a kid wanting to walk next to her mum and Michael the big bully has to come and push me out of the way. In the end it got very hard not to show my hatred towards him, it got harder everyday not to snap and tell him how much I hated him but in reality that would never happen because I was scared of him. He was a big, tall, angry, scary and a violent man. I never stood a chance.¬†

I don’t and never will blame or resent mum for staying with Michael for so long. I understand that she had no money of her own and no place to go or support, she also had Dusty (my other brother) and Chase to think about. We were stuck. All of us were abused by Michael and it has affected me in so many ways. Nearly every night I have a nightmare with Michael in it, if I hear a car that sounds like his I get anxiety and have to stop from having a panic attack and now I have such bad self esteem and body issues because of him and what he used to say to me that I loathe myself. I can’t look in the mirror without hating what I see. He used to also call me lazy all the time so now when I’m too tired to do anything because of my chronic fatigue instead of understanding that I have an illness and I’m unwell I just think of myself as lazy which means mum spends a lot of time reassuring me and reminding me that I’m not lazy and that I’m unwell with a medical condition and valid reasons for sitting on the couch watching TV.¬†

I often watch movies where the girl has the perfect dad who loves and cares for her and so wish that I could have what she has. I know that a lot of girls don’t have a dad like that but I still can’t help but wish that I had a dad who would do anything for them and who builds them up instead of smashing them down. Michael was a horrid man and I will always have to go through life with the damage that he’s caused to me and my body; mental and physical. I never want to see Michael or talk to him again, he contributed to my brokenness. One day I might be able to forgive him but that’s not right now.
I try, I really do but it’s so hard when I still think and am reminded about everything he did. It also doesn’t help that when Dusty comes over he’s a¬†constant reminder by the way he acts and what he says, he’s exactly like Michael. Dusty has no respect for me and thinks I’m fat and lazy just like Michael does.¬†

Getting kicked out of home with nothing but a few boxes of my clothes:

It was a Thursday night and mum and Michael had been fighting for quite a while. Mum had cooked us all dinner but Michael wasn’t home; he came home after dinner had been served and we had cleaned up. Dusty was still eating his though and he wanted some more cheese but we didn’t have any as we had used it for our dinner. Michael went and warmed up his dinner and Dusty asked for some more cheese, Michael went to the fridge to get some out but as there wasn’t any left he started slamming things and yelling at mum about there not being any cheese. Mum went down to her room and Michael sat down to eat his dinner a few minutes later Micahel got up and stormed down the hallway to their room where mum was. He slammed the door and started yelling at her. Mum started yelling out that Michael was hurting her and to let her go and to stop touching her, I eventually went down do their room (I had NEVER interrupted their fights before, I usually go to my room) and opened the bedroom door and screamed at Michael to let her go. He had mum by the wrists and was screaming angry words and threats right in her face.¬†He looked like a mad man and when I walked in. He let her go and told mum that she needs to get out of the house and that he’ll give her 6 hours to move out tomorrow (so Friday) after he had physically assaulted mum and told her to get us out he turned around and yelled at me right in my face to get the hell out of his way; he didn’t say it in exactly those words though. I honestly thought he was going to physically hurt me too. After had he had finished yelling at us and being physical with mum he went down and ate his dinner. Yes that’s right, after all that anger and getting physical with mum and went back to the dinner table and ate his dinner like nothing had happened, what a psycho. Who does that? Who can physically assault his wife and demand that she moves out of ‘his house’ and then go and eat dinner like nothing had happened in the past half an hour? A psychopath that’s who. After he finished dinner he went outside and got the boxes from storage and gave them to mum and told her to pack up her sh** and then he left again. Mum and I started to pack Chase’s room first, taking the most sentimental stuff like his clothes and toys and a few of his funeral programmes. After Chase’s room I went up and threw all of my clothes into boxes not taking notice of what I took and what I left. I left so many of my things behind, I literally only took my clothes. On Friday I took the day off school and mum and I moved our boxes to mum’s little investment house in the town over. The house was incredibly small with only one bedroom, no heater, no water, no gas, no firewood and no cooling; not that we needed cooling as it was the middle of winter! Mum and I had managed to move all our clothes and stuff within the 6 hours that Michael gave us to move out.

The hardest part of getting kicked out¬†was leaving Chase’s room and everything in there. Chase’s room was where I could go and cry and miss him without the judgment of Michael. Living in that little house was incredibly hard when there was 3 people living in a one bedroom house. Dusty and I slept on mattresses that were given to us by friends on the floor in the bedroom meanwhile mum slept on a mattress in the lounge room.¬†
There was no privacy at that house and no place where I could go and break down and let out all the feelings I had abut what had happened and Michael. We got through it though and after mum borrowed quite a lot of money off one of her friends we were able to get out of that tiny house and move into a normal size house where I had my own bedroom and bathroom and mum had her own bedroom and bathroom. Plus it had heating and cooling which was great! My anxiety was just starting out but it wasn’t that bad that I couldn’t go to school or leave the house. My depression also wasn’t bad either, it was¬†a year¬†after Chase had died so I was still in the numb, processing stage and hadn’t completely gotten the fact that my brother had died.

Health conditions (Gastroparesis, chronic fatigue syndrome, pelvic floor dysfunction):

My health conditions mostly started after we moved into the normal house. That’s when the extreme bloating, pain, fatigue and other yucky symptoms started to happen. It’s also when my anxiety became severe and so did my depression and I ended up leaving¬†my¬†mainstream school and enrolling into Distance Education. I’ll talk about my anxiety and depression more in part 2 of ‘What happens after’¬†but for now I’ll talk about all the stomach issues and fatigue.¬†

After I had left my school and started Distance Education I’d wake up every day looking 7 months pregnant and in a lot of pain. I would also sleep for 15 hours a day and be fatigued for the rest of the hours I was awake. I made trips to the emergency room quite a few times because of my bloating and pain and also because I would have blood in my poo (TMI I know, but that’s part of my life and this is a blog about my life so…) which isn’t normal. I would always get sent home from the hospital and told that I was fine and to take over the counter pain relief; it didn’t help with all the other symptoms, it helped with the pain a little but but that’s it. I got referred to see a gastroenterologist at the Royal Children’s Hospital and he booked me in for a colonoscopy and endoscopy. As I had thought they didn’t find anything and he told me to go home and to come back in a few months. Well, I wasn’t happy with that so I went and saw a paediatrician who told me I have chronic fatigue syndrome and associated POTS but my bowel issues and bloating was because I was overweight and that I just had to lose the weight and I’d be fine. Yeah thanks. Mum and I were relieved that we finally had an answer as to why I was so tired all the time and got exhausted walking from my bedroom to the lounge room, but as my stomach issues persisted and I still had pain, bloating and blood in my poo we went and got a referral from my GP to go see a different gastroenterologist privately. My new gastroenterologist has been great up until now as there’s not much more he can do for me unfortunately.¬†

When I went in for my first appointment he took me very seriously and listened to everything I had to say and told me that he thinks that I have Ulcerative Colitis, he put me on steroids and booked me into hospital to have another colonoscopy done and to get an MRI. Well, I went on the steroids and got the unfortunate side effects from them (extreme hunger, mood swings, moon face ect) and then went into hospital for what turned out to be a week long stay. I had to do a 3 day flush out which meant I couldn’t eat anything solid for three days and had to take a number of disgusting laxatives. If you’re reading this and you’ve had to have a colonoscopy before then you know what I mean when I say the actual flushout stuff¬†is the most disgusting thing in this world. Anyway, I did the colonoscopy and they didn’t find anything (typical) so I was taken off the steroids and then had to have an MRI done of my whole digestive system; that was super uncomfortable as I had to lay on my stomach for an hour. Once again they didn’t find anything abnormal and I was told I just have sever IBS and I was sent home and to get another follow up appointment with my gastroenterologist. We went back to him and he told me because I’m so constipated I have to do a flush out once EVERY MONTH! Nooooo¬†ūüė©ūüė∑ So I continued doing that and as nothing was improving, I was still bloated, in pain and constipated¬†he¬†told me that I needed to go get a gastric emptying study done (http://www.medicinenet.com/gastric_emptying_study/article.htm). So I went and did that and FINALLY something came back abnormal and we got some answers. It turns out I have something called Gastroparesis. This pretty much means that my stomach is a little bit paralysed and doesn’t empty food as quickly as a normal stomach does. I can’t tell you how relieved I was that I finally had some answers! So the end diagnosis¬†with my stomach is sever IBS and Gastroparesis. My gastroenterologist has put me on a medication called Motilium which has really helped; I can now eat without getting a severe stomach ache and severe nausea which is nice. I still get pain, I’m still bloated and I still get constipated but now I know why.¬†
The cause of my constipation isn’t just from my gastroparesis and IBS though, it turns out I also have Pelvic Floor Dysfunction. The problem with my pelvic floor is that it’s always tight and doesn’t relax and let go. You know when you do your kegel exercises and you can squeeze in and then relax again, well my pelvic floor doesn’t relax when I let go.¬†This¬†means that it’s hard for my poo to come out and it also means I can rarely use a tampon when I get my period. I have exercises I do but otherwise there’s not much else I can do at the moment.¬†
I’ve talked about my Chronic Fatigue before so I won’t go into that again…¬†https://depresssedmesswithanxietyandgrief.wordpress.com/2016/07/28/living-life-in-the-slooooooow-lane/

Alright peeps, this is a really long post so I’ll leave it here and I’ll upload part 2 next week. Stay safe.¬†

Maddy xoxo 

PS- Go check out a singer called Agnes Obel if you don’t know her already. She has some beautiful songs.¬†

Standard
Chronic health condition, Death, Depression, Exhausted, Family, Grief, Tired

I’m so tired of everything

 

Unknown-1

I’m so tired, not in the sense that I need more sleep, well I do need more sleep, but I’m talking about being tired mentally and emotionally. ¬†I feel like I’m in quick sand just trying to keep my head above board and trying to live day by day. If I only had my depression and anxiety and grief to deal with I think I’d be ok but I have so many other¬†things to have to deal with. It’s too much; especially for a seventeen year old.

I don’t understand why some people have such easy lives with nothing bad happening and then some people have to struggle to keep going and not give up. I really do feel like I got the short end of the stick and I’m just going to say it… It’s not fair, I deserve better! I know people who live their lives¬†with nothing ¬†bad happening and they just travel the world and have a big group of friends and then there are people like me who have a dead brother, generalised and social anxiety,¬†a plethora of health conditions and a mountain load of grief weighing them down everyday. I feel as though I deserve something more and better than this. I wake up in the morning in pain and feel like I haven’t slept at all even though I could have¬†slept for 12 hours I then shuffle my way down the hallway to start complaining to mum about how tired and sore I am and how I look 7 months pregnant today instead of my standard 5 months, I then have to take my medication which I take three times a day so I can eat without experiencing horrible stomach aches and nausea and then I spend my day doing what I can depending on how tired I feel¬†and how much pain I’m in. Then when it comes time to go to bed I lay there for hours and hours and end up getting to sleep after 3am or sometimes I don’t get to sleep at all! Yay for me.

How am I meant to do a diploma and placement if I feel tired all day everyday? I’ve tried taking sleeping pills and they work for the first week but then they stop and when they do work the next day I wake up feeling like I have a massive chronic fatigue flare up. I really can’t win.¬†

I need a break, even if it’s just for a day I would really like a break from my life and everything that comes with that, but that’s not possible and that’s really sad because this is my life and I have to learn to accept it for what it is. Yes it’s pretty sh** at the moment but I’m really hoping that it starts to get better soon and something changes because I can’t go through life not enjoying anything and just going day by day. I need something more and to believe that I will travel the world and have friends and a social life and that I will be happy one day. I need to believe that because if I don’t then what’s the point of living? My only reason is mum and that’s enough but it would be nice to live for something more as well.¬†

Well It’s 4am and I’m catching up on Millionaire Matchmaker while I write this blog and I don’t see sleep in the near future so maybe I should have breakfast?! ūüėČ

Love to you all,
Maddy xoxo

tumblr_o0vvuvBUSA1tuiggzo1_500

Ps- I love Greys Anatomy 

 

 

Standard