When I was around six-years-old, I stole something from TSS. TSS was a department store in NY and it had a pet store and a cafeteria and it was what dreams are made of.
And it was where I stole an octopus. You know those sticky animals that "crawl" down the wall when you throw them? It was one of those. I saw it, I wanted it, I took it. It wasn't even in a package, so clearly someone else already ruined its chances at being sold. I did that octopus a favor.
Anyway. I hid it and never even played with it because I was so guilty. I panicked about it all week until Sunday. On Sunday, I went to confession.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been one week since my last confession. In that time I said a bad word, I was mean to my mom, and I thought bad things about my sister."
"Do three Hail Marys and you are forgiven."
"Only, I also stole an octopus."
"Sorry? An octopus?"
"Yes, but I didn't even play with it! It's in my closet."
Somehow, I don't think he believed me. I did my penance, was forgiven, and moved on. I honestly don't even remember seeing that octopus again.
***
Forgiveness is something I've wanted my whole life. Everything I did - even if no one knew about it - begged forgiveness. It's like I thought everything would be ok and everyone would love me, if only they forgave me.
Forgiveness is something we all want, even if it rarely comes from ourselves.
***
There were a lot of good things about my childhood, but there were a lot of bad things, too. People did things to me that were pretty awful. People made ME do things that were reprehensible. Those things will always be with me.
When I was 25, I had a nervous breakdown. I'm talking sitting in the corner of my room, against the wall, crying, rocking, and pulling my hair out. It was pretty awful.
My mother came and got me and brought me to my doctor. I was out of work for three months. When my FMLA was up, I was sent back.
Only, three months was not enough. How does your mind know that three months should make you better? It doesn't. That, however, is another story for another time.
The most important thing about this story is how I came to forgiveness while being home alone and spending time with myself.
***
You see, I had so much inside of me. So much pain. So much anger. So much bitterness. I had all of these feelings inside of me, just waiting to be unleashed. I was only 25 and didn't know how to deal with them properly.
Going to therapy, reading, working in workshops, and really taking the time for self care enabled me to learn how to do that.
***
One day I called the person who I felt had done me the most wrong. I asked her to come to my house. When she got there, I asked her to sit down and told her, "I forgive you. You don't have to say anything. I just want you to know that."
I don't believe we have ever discussed that again.
Simply saying those words (and I am being 100% honest about this), lifted me out of the depths.
Will I always remember the things I forgave? Yes. Will I constantly wonder how she could have done those things? Forever. Will I sometimes still cry? Yup. It will be with me for the rest of my life.
But, it's over. It happened. She fucked up. I suffered. Now it is years later.
I forgave for me, make no mistake. I carried that around for so long and it did nothing but ignite my fire time after time after time. I was the one suffering. I was the one in pain. I was the one who was angry. Once I forgave, it was like a whole new world had opened up for me.
And then I discovered that forgiving was all about ME. My feelings, heart, my behavior, and MY control. Once you take control like that, it becomes addictive.
***
I spent the next fifteen years forgiving those who hurt me in my past. Sometimes I told them, sometimes not. Sometimes our relationships got better, sometimes not. Sometimes the memories it brought up were so hard that I never was able to talk to them again.
But, I still forgave.
I forgave and I moved on.
***
I know it sounds like I am being flippant. It may even sound like telling someone in the midst of a deep depression to, "Just smile and everything will be fine!"
I know it's not like that. It worked for me because I worked for IT. I prayed and I read and I thought and I talked about it. I investigated my own thoughts, my own trespasses, and my own errors.
I MADE myself do it sometimes. Let's be clear: I do not forget. I only forgive. I only say, "Hey, you did that then. You're not doing it now. I can forgive that. I can acknowledge your fuckups. I can free MYSELF from the anger."
And the ones who I could no longer keep in contact with? Again, that forgiveness was for ME. I know I can't go down that path, so I forgive. It lets my mind have rest. It stops all the anger (I swear). It releases my pain into the world so it can dissipate and disappear. Somewhat. It's obviously still there sometimes.
***
It makes me a better person, I think. The ability to forgive shows me that I can be bigger and better and STRONGER. Forgiveness is not about being weak, but about being so strong, and so loving, and so GIVING.
If God can forgive the whole octopus situation, surely I can forgive those who have trespassed against ME.
I continue to try. It's all I can do.
***
Sunday, October 21, 2018
Sunday, September 2, 2018
Step on a crack.
Preface:
This is not to get pity or anything. It's just a thing that I am sharing. A thing that is a big deal to me.
***
I've decided to be a bigger advocate for my physical health. I am super big on advocating for my MENTAL health but have slacked in other areas.
A lot of it is because of my weight. Part of me (and I cannot even believe this) still thinks that I deserve getting sick because I have allowed myself to become so fat. Part of me thinks that I have no right to complain.
Which leads me to this...
***
For the past few years, I have been in awful pain. My neck, my shoulder, my elbow, my hands, and my back. Horrible pain that sometimes made it impossible to do basic things. Mike has had to help me do a lot of things which made me (not by his actions) feel really demoralized.
He has helped me wash my hair, helped me put on my bra and my shirts, has helped me comb my hair and put styling cream in it, and has even helped me in and out of the shower. It's not romantic and it's not cute.
Basically, most things that require me to life my arms over my head, or bend my back in certain ways are painful and often not possible.
***
I spoke to my doctor about it. She gave me Gabapentin. That helped my hands TREMENDOUSLY, but didn't help anything else. I went to the ER multiple times only to be told nothing is wrong and sent away with ten Tramadol. I saw a sports medicine doctor who told me, "There seems to be something fuzzy on your shoulder. It's probably tendinitis. Do these exercises."
***
And so I took the pills and did the exercises and just suffered. And suffered. And suffered.
A few months ago, I could not take it, anymore. Sneezing and breathing were hurting my back.
Back to the ER I went.
After x-rays and blood tests and an hour or two of waiting, the nurse came back, mentioned something about spurs on my spine and that I had something called DISH, but she didn't really understand it. "Don't worry," she said. "That's not causing your pain."
***
So I accepted that. I went home, took some Tramadol and some muscle relaxers and still went through nights and days of pain.
I saw my own doctor and she referred me to a physical therapist. I told her that I could not move and SOMETHING was wrong. "We'll discuss it at your next appointment. Let's get your mental health together first."
***
After a few more weeks of pain, I said, "Wait a fucking minute. I am going insane with pain. How on EARTH is my mental health going to get any better if I CANNOT SLEEP OR MOVE PROPERLY?!?"
So I messaged my doctor and said SOMETHING IS WRONG. I don't necessarily want drugs, but I want to know wtf is wrong with me.
And she replied, "Did the ER not explain to you that you have Diffuse Idiopathic Skeletal Hyperostosis (DISH). That's what's causing your pain."
And I cried.
At first I cried because I was like, "OMG I KNOW WHAT IT IS." Then I cried because I was angry. Angry because I had been complaining about this for YEARS without anyone truly taking me seriously. Angry because the sports therapy doctor SAW "something fuzzy" on my x-rays and did nothing about it. Angry because the ER nurse SPECIFICALLY told me that it wouldn't cause pain. So angry.
***
And I decided to do my OWN research. The Mayo Clinic basically says it is a disease in which bone spurs grow (mostly in your thoracic region and sometimes your shoulder) on your spine and the ligaments along your spine calcify.
While - theoretically - the actual bone GROWTH wouldn't hurt, the fact that your spine is now encased in bone and bone spurs causes immense pain. It pushes against your lungs (which is why it sometimes hurts to breathe or sneeze). It irritates you spinal nerves. It makes certain mobility functions almost impossible.
So WHY was no one explaining this to me or taking me seriously? Why did I have to join groups and read research papers and delve into the depths of the world wide web (because pretty much most doctors say it is painless) to find out MORE?
***
I joined a support group on Facebook and found people suffering the SAME. EXACT. THINGS. I was. Reading their posts was like coming home. I cried and cried for days. I cried because I finally felt validated. I cried because their stories were heartbreaking. And I cried because I don't know what effect this will have on my life in the future.
***
Today is not a bad day. I was able to wipe myself without screaming (I am not joking - wiping is so painful). I did some dishes. I cooked dinner.
The very worst experience I've had with this was having my back completely lock up in the shower while wave after wave of back spasms rocked through my body as Mike could do nothing but watch me scream. I wanted to just die. Literally. It was the worst pain of my life (and I've had two c-sections, two tattoos, and a kidney stone) and it seemed to last forever, although it was probably five minutes.
Some days I cannot get out of bed and Mike has to take a cab home from work and friends have to pick my girls up from school.
It is very, very demoralizing.
***
I will be seeing a rheumatologist soon (because it's considered a degenerative form of arthritis by some) and I push through the pain when I can. I am allergic to both aspirin and ibuprofen, so I'm screwed there.
The girls help me a lot. Mike does the difficult things when I can't.
And I hope. I hope for pain-free days. I hope that it doesn't get much worse. I hope that keeping myself moving even when I don't want to will help my body from getting too lax.
I just hope.
***
I leave you with this:
This is not to get pity or anything. It's just a thing that I am sharing. A thing that is a big deal to me.
***
I've decided to be a bigger advocate for my physical health. I am super big on advocating for my MENTAL health but have slacked in other areas.
A lot of it is because of my weight. Part of me (and I cannot even believe this) still thinks that I deserve getting sick because I have allowed myself to become so fat. Part of me thinks that I have no right to complain.
Which leads me to this...
***
For the past few years, I have been in awful pain. My neck, my shoulder, my elbow, my hands, and my back. Horrible pain that sometimes made it impossible to do basic things. Mike has had to help me do a lot of things which made me (not by his actions) feel really demoralized.
He has helped me wash my hair, helped me put on my bra and my shirts, has helped me comb my hair and put styling cream in it, and has even helped me in and out of the shower. It's not romantic and it's not cute.
Basically, most things that require me to life my arms over my head, or bend my back in certain ways are painful and often not possible.
***
I spoke to my doctor about it. She gave me Gabapentin. That helped my hands TREMENDOUSLY, but didn't help anything else. I went to the ER multiple times only to be told nothing is wrong and sent away with ten Tramadol. I saw a sports medicine doctor who told me, "There seems to be something fuzzy on your shoulder. It's probably tendinitis. Do these exercises."
***
And so I took the pills and did the exercises and just suffered. And suffered. And suffered.
A few months ago, I could not take it, anymore. Sneezing and breathing were hurting my back.
Back to the ER I went.
After x-rays and blood tests and an hour or two of waiting, the nurse came back, mentioned something about spurs on my spine and that I had something called DISH, but she didn't really understand it. "Don't worry," she said. "That's not causing your pain."
***
So I accepted that. I went home, took some Tramadol and some muscle relaxers and still went through nights and days of pain.
I saw my own doctor and she referred me to a physical therapist. I told her that I could not move and SOMETHING was wrong. "We'll discuss it at your next appointment. Let's get your mental health together first."
***
After a few more weeks of pain, I said, "Wait a fucking minute. I am going insane with pain. How on EARTH is my mental health going to get any better if I CANNOT SLEEP OR MOVE PROPERLY?!?"
So I messaged my doctor and said SOMETHING IS WRONG. I don't necessarily want drugs, but I want to know wtf is wrong with me.
And she replied, "Did the ER not explain to you that you have Diffuse Idiopathic Skeletal Hyperostosis (DISH). That's what's causing your pain."
And I cried.
At first I cried because I was like, "OMG I KNOW WHAT IT IS." Then I cried because I was angry. Angry because I had been complaining about this for YEARS without anyone truly taking me seriously. Angry because the sports therapy doctor SAW "something fuzzy" on my x-rays and did nothing about it. Angry because the ER nurse SPECIFICALLY told me that it wouldn't cause pain. So angry.
***
And I decided to do my OWN research. The Mayo Clinic basically says it is a disease in which bone spurs grow (mostly in your thoracic region and sometimes your shoulder) on your spine and the ligaments along your spine calcify.
While - theoretically - the actual bone GROWTH wouldn't hurt, the fact that your spine is now encased in bone and bone spurs causes immense pain. It pushes against your lungs (which is why it sometimes hurts to breathe or sneeze). It irritates you spinal nerves. It makes certain mobility functions almost impossible.
So WHY was no one explaining this to me or taking me seriously? Why did I have to join groups and read research papers and delve into the depths of the world wide web (because pretty much most doctors say it is painless) to find out MORE?
***
I joined a support group on Facebook and found people suffering the SAME. EXACT. THINGS. I was. Reading their posts was like coming home. I cried and cried for days. I cried because I finally felt validated. I cried because their stories were heartbreaking. And I cried because I don't know what effect this will have on my life in the future.
***
Today is not a bad day. I was able to wipe myself without screaming (I am not joking - wiping is so painful). I did some dishes. I cooked dinner.
The very worst experience I've had with this was having my back completely lock up in the shower while wave after wave of back spasms rocked through my body as Mike could do nothing but watch me scream. I wanted to just die. Literally. It was the worst pain of my life (and I've had two c-sections, two tattoos, and a kidney stone) and it seemed to last forever, although it was probably five minutes.
Some days I cannot get out of bed and Mike has to take a cab home from work and friends have to pick my girls up from school.
It is very, very demoralizing.
***
I will be seeing a rheumatologist soon (because it's considered a degenerative form of arthritis by some) and I push through the pain when I can. I am allergic to both aspirin and ibuprofen, so I'm screwed there.
The girls help me a lot. Mike does the difficult things when I can't.
And I hope. I hope for pain-free days. I hope that it doesn't get much worse. I hope that keeping myself moving even when I don't want to will help my body from getting too lax.
I just hope.
***
I leave you with this:
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