How the heck is it May already, and what the heck just happened to us all?
I haven’t blogged for quite some time. Not that I don’t enjoy blogging and writing, indeed I love to – but this thing called life, it got complicated, and frankly, hard.
Anyone with chronic illness will know, that distraction and doing as much as you can to live your life on a daily basis is what keeps us going. The start of 2020 was going as well as it possibly could, I found myself in a rhythm of learning to manage daily migraine, and at times, still enjoying my life despite it.
I had been afraid to go swimming since I had my shunt surgery. What if the tubing started poking me again when I was in a swimming pool? Who would help me? How would I explain the pain? What if the gym wouldn’t let me join because of my health problems? What if the shunt stuck out of my swimming cap and people pointed at it? What if I had a panic attack in the pool? Ah f*** it, I joined the gym and pool at the Royal Marine Hotel in Dun Laoghaire – and I bloody loved it. Look at what my body could do, even with a permanent migraine! You couldn’t get me out the damn pool, or the jacuzzi, or the steam room, or the sauna (nope, my shunt didn’t melt).
I stopped the “what ifs”. I went on a date, I went out with my friends for dinner, I went for (wobbly) walks, I found myself able to study for 5 hours in a row at Dun Laoghaire library, I joined weight watchers and was losing weight consistently, I bought a house.
Hellooooooo Covid. And hello Clare falling down the stairs and breaking her foot.
I always talk openly about mental health and reproductive health, anything really. None of us should hide behind stigma, shame, fear. So, this is what happened to me the last few months:
- I got depression like a mofo
- I’ve gained about 8 lbs
- I’ve been hauling around a support boot I have to wear on my foot, and it’s resulted in a nice Interstitial Cystitis flare up. That bastarding thing yanks on my pelvic floor muscles and my bladder basically yells at me to run to the loo, else I’m gonna pee my pants
- I’ve left the house 3 times in 7 weeks
- I have grown a unibrow
- My eyebrows have started to go slightly grey
- I’ve done a 2000 piece jigsaw puzzle and slightly lost my sanity over it
- I have got to spend more time with my wonderful parents. I love them
- I’ve felt the love and support from all my friends and family, I’m incredibly blessed
- I have made huge progress in coming off opiates (fuck yeah!)
- I have managed to do all my college work and pass all my assignments
- I got depression like a mofo. Yeah, I’ll mention that one again. But…
I AM GOING TO GRADUATE. And soon, move into my new house, finally get my little doggy, see my friends again, swim in the sea, just sit in the library and smell the books again (yeah, I’m weird that way – but who doesn’t like the smell of books?), the weight will come off, my foot will keep healing, we’ll get to hug people again.
Life will go back to a new normal. When I’ve settled back into mine, I’m not going to be afraid of air travel any more. Before Covid, I wouldn’t get on a plane by myself – what if a shunt malfunction happens at 30,000 ft?!
Now, I couldn’t give a rats damn ass. Put me at 30,000ft, but just with a face mask on. I’ve to go to Spain, and write a book… I’ve shit to do.