This Girl Can

It’s been a while.

In the months since my last post, a lot has happened.

I started playing rugby again for one. The rugby club set up a ladies team, so I joined up. It’d been 14 years since my last game of rugby due to my knee injury, so I was unsure whether it would be a good idea or not. I got cleared by the phsyio, so I went to training. And my God, it was amazing. I would be utterly dead for a few days after a training session, but I was getting out of the house, I was exercising, I made some new friends.

11 weeks after we created our team, we played our first game. It was a pre-season training game, and it was long and hard, and we didn’t have a chance to win it, but there’s no better way to learn than to play. I did well. My fitness wasn’t, and isn’t, up to scratch, but I ran, I passed, I scrummaged, I tackled and got tackled – and that’s where it went wrong.

In the final two minutes of the game, we made a play, where I (as a prop) would charge forward as far as I could, and go to ground – or offload if I needed to. I got the ball, I ran forward, I made it about 5 paces and I got tackled, hard. I managed to offload the ball as I went down, as I was twisted and landed awkwardly on the floor. The next thing I know, I’m lying on the ground, unable to move my left leg, and in absolute agony. I was literally picked up and carried off the pitch. There were swear words and tears of pain and anger. I knew I was done for the second I hit the ground.

Skip forward a few weeks and hospital visits, crutches, a brace and a plethora of painkillers, and I’m told that I have snapped my ACL (Anterior Cruciate Ligament) and have torn my meniscus (the cartlidge). Wonderful. Surgery. Yay. I will not be playing again this season. Double yay.

Skip forward again to today. I had the surgery 4 months ago. I’m healing really well, it’s strong and it’s working. My surgeon is astounded and proud. My physio is amazed. I’ve gone back to rugby training – although I’ve got to do it slowly and I’m not allowed to take any contact.

Today, in our 8^th game of the season, I donned my boots, and I ran on with a water bottle and the kicking tee. It felt wonderful. I’m riding a little bit of a high from it as I sit here and type, as well as being in a great deal of pain. I proved I could jog, I proved that I am on a comeback, but that doesn’t mean that I’m not still stiff and crampy from all the activity. My calf muscle is one big painful knot, but it is all worth it. Today I got to be back on a rugby pitch, as an official member of the team in boots and with a purpose. 

Realizations, Fights, and Apologies

Life can get messy when you live with chronic illness. Parts of your life get sacrificed when dealing with flare ups, with the fight against your body and mind, with new ailments appearing and old ones dragging you down. 

I've drifted from my friends recently. I've been exhausted, dealing with new pain, with a recurrence of anxiety to do with public appearances, and with a simple desire to hide myself away hermit style and disconnect from the world. I'm aware this isn't healthy, nor is it good for my social sanding or relationships with my friends, but there's not much that can be done about it apart from wait for it to pass. It always does, it may take some time, but it does always eventually go away.

I could force myself out, but I would only end up being miserable and regretting it, and I don't believe someone should be out if that's only going to be the case. Yes, I still do my rugby club duties on a Saturday, and quiz on a Sunday, but they're different that usual socializing. I'm working, it's family, it's comfortable, it's where I want to be. It is bumming me out though, I miss my friends. I miss the laughter, I miss the conversations about things I don't understand and amusing them by the fact it all goes right over my head. I miss not being judged.

I have a feeling that a lot of this anxiety has been upped by not wanting to bump into the guy mentioned in my previous post as I always avoid situations that make me uncomfortable; and because of an incident that happened a few weeks ago. It happened at the rugby club which has made me slightly anxious there when I know the individual involved in the incident could be around, but I know there are others there who like me, trust me, understand me and what I'm going through, and that helps. 

The aforementioned incident was ridiculous. I thought so then, I think so now, but that doesn't change the fact that it happened and that it's affected me. The culprit, who will remain unnamed, approached me and asked me what was wrong with me and why I don't work. I replied that I'm generally unwell, how working on a Saturday knocks me for six and that it takes me a few days to recover but that it was totally worth it. She then proceeded to rant at me about how I listen to doctors too much, and that I can't be as ill as I say or have all all the conditions and ailments that I do; that I should simply think positive thoughts and I'll get better, that taking long walks and hikes for charity will make me feel better that I need to stop believing that I'm sick and disabled and then I won't be. She was insulting, ignorant, arrogant and completely oblivious to the damage she was causing me. I was in tears in front of her, I shouted and was very visibly upset and distraught because of her comments and she stood there asking me why I was getting so upset, really not grasping the fact that it was her hurtful words that caused it. 

I'm sure there are other factors that I haven't yet considered that are contributing to my despondent state, but I'm certain that this hasn't helped. 


I'm getting there. I'm better than I was last week, and I hope things will improve more over the upcoming Christmas period, but it's going to take me time to get back to the point that I'm comfortable being out in public again with my friends. I've still got the shoes that I need to wear to do so, it's just they're giving me blisters, and I'm not ready to try and wear them again. 

I hope they understand. I hope they're reading this and nodding knowingly, and realise that I'm not avoiding them, I'm not fobbing them off, I'm just struggling to get by and exist at the moment, and I'm sorry that I'm not around - I really truly am. 

To sleep: perchance to dream; aye, there's the rub...

Insomnia is a bitch.
Painsomnia is even worse.

I have the misfortune of occasionally suffering from a combination of the two, something that is most definitely less than fun when you suffer from chronic fatigue to start with.

Last week - from Sunday afternoon til Saturday morning I had no more than about 12-15 hours sleep. My shoulder, back, knee and ankle put me into a whirlwind of pain, basically making my contract with the sleep fairy null and void. I'm falling apart, and the one thing that I could really do with to let my body try and fix itself is sleep, and it's the one thing that it wouldn't let me do.

I'll admit that I slept a bit more than I had any other night that week on Wednesday night, but as the insomnia carried on afterwards, I'm putting that down to the fact that I'd had my flu jab that afternoon and it knocked me for six. I slept Saturday night too, after a long day, and then a subsequent night out in Dorchester resulting in arriving at the spare room I was sleeping in at about 5:30am. I slept well on Sunday night too, being so exhausted from my weekend antics that I passed out from exhaustion rather than fell asleep. 

I was hoping that that would be the end of this bout, but here I am at half two Tuesday morning tearing my hair out at the fact that I'm not asleep - and can't seem to get there. No amount of reading, or puzzles to wear out my eyes and brain seem to be working. Nor does the sleep mist I have or eye masks and pure determination. 

I'm going to hope that this is a side effect from sleeping so much last night (I had a good 10 hours) and that I sleep well tomorrow. If not words will be had with my Doctor on Wednesday when I go in for steroid injections in my shoulder. That might do the trick, less pain equalling more sleep, but I might need an alternate solution. Not sure sleeping pills will be the right thing, but at least he might be able to suggest something else that will put sleep back on the menu for me! 

Release

First things first

If you don’t like long posts about personal issues and think that they are all begging for attention when it happens, then turn away now.  

This is about struggle, education and people needing support and love not hate, bullying and being ignored - something that everyone needs to be aware of. I am not proud or attention seeking. I’m the kind of person that admired Robin Williams for his suicide, and seeing it from the same side he saw his life, I understand it - and am proud of him for fighting as long as he did, and making the decision that enough was enough. A life fighting for the tiniest molecule of happiness is not a life. And if you don’t like this fact, then stop reading. 

I have been diagnosed a severe sufferer of Chronic Depression, Chronic Anxiety and Myalgic Enchepalomyelitis (ME/CFS - Chronic Fatigue Syndrome). None of these are fun conditions, and the combination of all three makes things very difficult.  If I was to boil this down to the complete bare basics, it basically means that I am too sad, too scared and too tired to do pretty much anything. And anything that I do do, takes a lot of energy, effort and discomfort. 

I am a long term sufferer. I had my first full blown panic attack (hyperventilating, tears etc.) when I was 5 years old. 5 years, 2 months and 14 days to be precise. I am currently 25 years, 2 months and 19 days old. I have suffered from bad anxiety and depression for at least 20 years. And I am very, very good at hiding it. Told a friend of mine that I’ve known for at least 8 years this and he was gobsmacked. I can hide it. I can put on a face, and be inwardly screaming and dying. 

I am a self harmer. I don’t do it for attention. I do it because sometimes that’s all there is left that doesn’t involve a death certificate. I don’t want to die. I’m just not keen on living either. It lowers my pain, my anxiety and my stress. I am not proud that I do it. 

But it’s a part of who I am, and it’s not something that I should have to hide [from]. 

Do I wish I don’t do it? Yes. 

Do I like the fact that it quietens the deafening constant turmoil? Yes. 

Do I wish that I could live a different life? Yes. 

Is there anything I can really do about it that won’t take most of the rest of my life to climb up the first couple of steps to stairway of full recovery? No. 

There are many people like me. Many people that get teased, bullied, left out, ignored, forgotten about, made to feel like shit about anything at all. If you’re friends with us, then you probably know how we are. And those are the worst possible things you can do. We need love, friendship, and most importantly support. We need help to get to where you are. We need help to be able to smile a non forced smile. We need help to not fake that we’re happy, and actually genuinely feel it. We need for people to not make us feel shit about something that we already do and hate that we do - we’re not in control. And it won’t be easy for you, but it’ll be so much harder on us. It can be hard for many people to understand, but some days just dropping a cup of water will bring us to tears. You may think “Oh this is just one little thing” but we see it as “Oh my God I can’t even get water without fucking up and now I’ve made a huge mess - I shouldn’t even try.”

Next time you see someone struggling, don’t tell them to man up, don’t ignore them, don’t make them feel worse. Ask if they’re okay, ask if there’s anything you can do to help, ask them if they need a hug. See if they maybe want to go and do something as simple as going for a walk/drink/food/10 minutes in the company of someone who cares, as simple and feeble as it may sound to you, stepping out of the front door can feel like climbing Mount Everest. 

I am fully aware that this is a depressing, emotional, unusual first blog post, but it has to be said, especially if you're gonna carry on reading my posts, poems and desperately sad rants.