I feel it necessary to come clean. Not that I’ve ever lied about a single thing in the last 4 years.... but today, I’m feeling prompted to give a little “behind the scenes” action into a day in the life of Kizzy.
So often, we feel that social media can only be a place for highlight reels and to make it appear as if our lives are perfect.... your job is perfect...you’re financially stable.... you NEVER fight with your spouse...or family...or in-laws... and you really do "wake up like that"...... like, RIIGHHTTT.
(This was a midday NAP - so don't you patronize me!)
I’m not here to say that I’m not a victim of feeling the pressure of social comparisons and wanting to utilize my social media posts to convince everyone that I'm strong, unwavering, and positive above all else. What I truly want, is to use social media for good and to not use it as a weapon or a bragging platform to post millions of selfies on... I've only ever wanted to use social media to share the most positive message I can and to stay connected with my hundreds of friends and family members who are scattered across the country and even the world, along with giving them an occasional health update; given the Hell I’ve been struggling through for nearly half of a decade now.
In no way have I wished to make a "highlight reel" to my life, but as I lay on the bathroom floor this past weekend, as yet another meal was unceremoniously 'deposited' into the bowl sitting beside me..... I thought to myself....... does anyone TRULY understand what the last 4 years have been like "BEHIND THE SCENES?!"
I had convinced myself that some of these stories are both deeply personal, vulnerable and also a bit morbid, to be honest. I don't want sympathy for this trial and I don't want you to pity me. I want to INSPIRE. I want to MOTIVATE. I want to spread LOVE and LIGHT to that special someone out there that might just need to hear my story someday. Somehow.... somewhere... I hope this person will read my stories and see words of encouragement, of power, of strength and of perseverance for when their own trials may arise.
I strive to be that “light on a hill” that shines for everyone else and for God.... not for myself or for attention or more "likes" on my Instagram or Facebook.... but as a reminder that WE ALL HAVE TRIALS and sometimes they far outweigh the capabilities or strengths we have to overcome them. I want to tell you that YOU'RE WRONG.
I struggle daily. I often times even CRY daily.... and hell, even HOURLY at some points. I’ve sat down in my cold bathtub floor from being too weak to stand under the crippling pain... the kind of pain that no one sees... the pain in my heart as I have to look into my mother's eyes; shining with tears, as I throw up another meal. And my dad's glistening blue eyes as he just holds my hand while I try to fitfully sleep and rest through the worst of my PTSD nightmares and anxiety. And most painfully, as I feel my husbands arms encircle me once again - like if he only holds me tight enough, all of my broken pieces will fit together again.
And it’s hard to explain to someone the suffering you’ve experienced in such a short amount of time when they weren’t there. Or even if they were.... looking on, as painful bystanders, unable to “fix” me and help me out of this pit of darkness.
They don’t know what it’s REALLY like to live inside a body that seems to hate me and sometimes I hate it right back. What it's REALLY like to live inside of this skin:
…...to push through oppressive fatigue day after day. (Zero food = Zero fuel, right?)
......to dry heave immediately after taking just a small sip of water.... or even smelling food.... or thinking about eating... here comes the bile.
......to hear the sound of that DAMN phone alarm going off again..... way too soon.... because now I don't only have to force some sips of water down but I also have to swallow an additional 23 pills through my too dry throat - my sweet mother hovering as I take each one, waiting to step in and help me when I begin choking and dry heave the pill back up..... only to have to try again.....
…...to be tired beyond exhaustion, but unable to sleep... a fancy thing my docs like to call "wired exhaustion." Sounds fun, eh?
…...to have bizarre symptoms that no one can put a finger on but even worse: to hear your "specialist" once again tell you that you’re faking and are only seeking attention..... because apparently, some people have a talent for randomly making themselves throw up blood.... ??
…...to become dependent on symptom-suppressing drugs prescribed by well-meaning doctors who didn’t know enough to 'know better'; only bandaging the issues inside of me, instead of searching for a way to cure me.
Remember this the next time you look at that Instagram model's post and say to yourself, "If I only had her life..." or "I wish I could BE her...." because I promise you, you don't. The grass really isn't greener on the other side... it's just as brown as your grass is.... they just have it covered up with a rug from Target.
All I can say is that I'm just so blessed that my Rathen Jones was placed so squarely in front of me that night in 2014.... and he's still here, still holding my pieces together and he loves me enough to take care of my (*our) mess of a life and not run away screaming.....but most importantly, for being there for all my "In-Betweens."
In no way have I wished to make a "highlight reel" to my life, but as I lay on the bathroom floor this past weekend, as yet another meal was unceremoniously 'deposited' into the bowl sitting beside me..... I thought to myself....... does anyone TRULY understand what the last 4 years have been like "BEHIND THE SCENES?!"
Or as I have been calling them.... all of my "IN-BETWEENS??"
My family and closest friends surely know. They know about all of my highlights that I've so courageously posted over the years..... but they've also seen nearly every single one of those "in-between" moments as well. They've been the ones to lay on that bathroom floor; right next to me as my tears came for hours and hours at a time. They were the ones to find me sitting down, curled into a ball, at the bottom of my shower, letting the water clear all of the tears tumbling down my face, neck, and chest. They were there for every single Emergency Room visit; when I'd be seizing in pain, face red and blotchy from the hysteria I was slipping into.....they were there for every time I would begin to hyperventilate due to the PTSD I now suffer from after these doctor visits. And every time I awoke after blacking out once again, they were the first set of eyes I'd always be staring up at. They were there. Always... and I wish to share it with the rest of you now.
I receive countless messages and comments of praise and acknowledgment for my uplifting attitude and my consistently positive perspective given the situation. I thank you for those.... each and every one of them (whether from close friends - estranged friends - old teammates - and all the way to complete strangers). THANK YOU. These were the messages and the "glitter linings" that I so often preach about. YOU are my glitter linings.
Unfortunately, this is not one of those posts. I have to bare my soul and dive into the most vulnerable days of my life to share this with the world... and I have to tell you, this has taken way longer to write than I care to admit.
I had convinced myself that some of these stories are both deeply personal, vulnerable and also a bit morbid, to be honest. I don't want sympathy for this trial and I don't want you to pity me. I want to INSPIRE. I want to MOTIVATE. I want to spread LOVE and LIGHT to that special someone out there that might just need to hear my story someday. Somehow.... somewhere... I hope this person will read my stories and see words of encouragement, of power, of strength and of perseverance for when their own trials may arise.
I strive to be that “light on a hill” that shines for everyone else and for God.... not for myself or for attention or more "likes" on my Instagram or Facebook.... but as a reminder that WE ALL HAVE TRIALS and sometimes they far outweigh the capabilities or strengths we have to overcome them. I want to tell you that YOU'RE WRONG.
I’d like to share with you an incredible message I received from a very special woman in my life; my Aunt Sissy. Those who know her, know that her smile is like sunshine and she lives to serve our Lord and our Church with so much faith and sacrifice. While she was serving a mission in Tokyo, Japan recently, I received an email from her. I received this email on the day Rathen and I lost our first child and we were struggling with the overwhelming heartache that accompanies the loss of a child who never even had a chance.
Aunt Sissy emailed us and she said something I’ll always remember...
“We often hear the phrase, “God never gives us more than we can handle”. Well, Kizzy, I want to tell you that is a bunch of bologna! Of course God gives us more than we can handle!! He gives us way more than we can handle....so that we can turn to Him and learn to plead for grace and mercy. He gives us more than we can handle so we pray to Him to understand the Atonement of Jesus Christ more fully. If God never gave us more than we could handle --- we really wouldn’t need Him, would we? We wouldn’t ever learn to truly rely on Him.”
So....today, I’d like to “bare all” and truly deep dive into how I’ve REALLY been handling this trial and the bumpy road God has laid before me. Because it hasn’t been all roses and unicorns and quite as GLITTERY as I make it all out to be.
So....today, I’d like to “bare all” and truly deep dive into how I’ve REALLY been handling this trial and the bumpy road God has laid before me. Because it hasn’t been all roses and unicorns and quite as GLITTERY as I make it all out to be.
** (Which seems like common sense.... like, DUH - Does ANYONE celebrate the fact that they’ve glimpsed death in the face numerous times before their 25th birthday?! No. No, they don’t...)
But here it is anyway...
I struggle daily. I often times even CRY daily.... and hell, even HOURLY at some points. I’ve sat down in my cold bathtub floor from being too weak to stand under the crippling pain... the kind of pain that no one sees... the pain in my heart as I have to look into my mother's eyes; shining with tears, as I throw up another meal. And my dad's glistening blue eyes as he just holds my hand while I try to fitfully sleep and rest through the worst of my PTSD nightmares and anxiety. And most painfully, as I feel my husbands arms encircle me once again - like if he only holds me tight enough, all of my broken pieces will fit together again.
And it’s hard to explain to someone the suffering you’ve experienced in such a short amount of time when they weren’t there. Or even if they were.... looking on, as painful bystanders, unable to “fix” me and help me out of this pit of darkness.
It's hard having a chronic invisible illness... impossible to see by just looking at me, right? And oh how a face of makeup can really help turn my usual pain and zombie-like face into a painted Zena Warrior Princess. I truly think it's some sort of witchcraft but alas... would anyone believe me if I told you that about 10 min after I took the photo below, I was bent over the toilet, heaving my small lunch of strawberries and blueberries out of my stomach?? Or that I had to take 10 mg of Narcotic medications in order to even stand up long enough to put on this makeup and comb my hair for a long-awaited date night with my husband??? (Which I then had to cut short and skip dinner with him because going to the movie wore me out too much.....)
These are the daily realities no one has seen.
These are the "In-Betweens."
They don’t know what it’s REALLY like to live inside a body that seems to hate me and sometimes I hate it right back. What it's REALLY like to live inside of this skin:
…...to push through oppressive fatigue day after day. (Zero food = Zero fuel, right?)
......to realize that the antibiotics that are trying to kill the Lyme, is also slowly killing everything else inside of you as well....like when I brush my hair and find massive breakage and entire chunks of hair in the brush.
(I've gotten extremely creative in my hairstyles on ways to hide my newly
receding hairline - near my temples... I impress even myself!)
......to dry heave immediately after taking just a small sip of water.... or even smelling food.... or thinking about eating... here comes the bile.
......to hear the sound of that DAMN phone alarm going off again..... way too soon.... because now I don't only have to force some sips of water down but I also have to swallow an additional 23 pills through my too dry throat - my sweet mother hovering as I take each one, waiting to step in and help me when I begin choking and dry heave the pill back up..... only to have to try again.....
…...to be tired beyond exhaustion, but unable to sleep... a fancy thing my docs like to call "wired exhaustion." Sounds fun, eh?
.....to finally fall asleep only to awake; drenched in sweat from yet another nightmare full of your most horrific days in the hospital... and then having to see the faces of my husband and family as they look at me with so much pity it crushes my heart to dust.
...... to get poked and prodded endlessly because it's MY FAULT that my veins are bad.... but we'll keep trying to find that vein because they still have to fill over 15 vials for continued "testing."
Ohhhh man, so. much. freaking. testinggggg. I'm a rat in a cage.
Ohhhh man, so. much. freaking. testinggggg. I'm a rat in a cage.
** (I'm proud to say I've survived 26 different "pokes/tries" in a single sitting before
they finally got what they needed...)
…...to ache so deeply, from head to toe, that all you hope to do is take your next breath. So badly that all you want to do is curl up in a ball inside a dark closet and hide from the world for a while.
…...to feel like you have the flu every day of your life, but still, have to muster up the strength and courage to face the world and go to work... to act happy and lively at family functions... to still plan and participate in outings with friends... parties... celebrations... vacations...all while you get a front row seat to experience first hand as other lives continue on around you while your own world seems to be crumbling slowly around you and you fall further and further behind with each passing day.
…...to feel like you have the flu every day of your life, but still, have to muster up the strength and courage to face the world and go to work... to act happy and lively at family functions... to still plan and participate in outings with friends... parties... celebrations... vacations...all while you get a front row seat to experience first hand as other lives continue on around you while your own world seems to be crumbling slowly around you and you fall further and further behind with each passing day.
...... to gain 20 lbs in 2 weeks because of the steroid infusions doctors insisted would help.... only to find out that steroids are the worst thing you could possibly give to a Lymie patient... so I gained massive amounts of inflammation and water retention in a 14-day stretch.
* (Superrr great on the self-esteem... let me tell you!)
* (Superrr great on the self-esteem... let me tell you!)
...... to lose 16 of those lbs in a 5 day period because not a single thing would - for (quite literally) the life of me - stay INSIDE... nor did I have any desire to eat for nearly a week.
…...to be isolated, both socially and professionally; the one on the outside looking in and feeling alone in a crowded room.
…...to be isolated, both socially and professionally; the one on the outside looking in and feeling alone in a crowded room.
......to have to crawl around my house because the nerves in my feet burn as though I'm walking over hot coals and they've cracked so severely that infection is a constant threat.
(*Good thing I have so many extra pairs of kneepads laying around, right?!
Came in handy..... hahah teasin'.)
…...to have bizarre symptoms that no one can put a finger on but even worse: to hear your "specialist" once again tell you that you’re faking and are only seeking attention..... because apparently, some people have a talent for randomly making themselves throw up blood.... ??
If this is true.....
I DEMAND AN OSCAR. LEO CAN WAIT ANOTHER YEAR.
......to wake up every single day, unsure of the horrors that await you... constantly asking myself:
- Will today be a day full of throwing up?
- A day that a rash breaks out all over my body?
- A day when I wake up with 10 styes in my left eye alone - weeping and oozing puss all day. (YUM)
- A day that brings painful boils to the surface of my shoulders and back, as the infections and bacteria attempt to detox out of my body?
- A day when my feet swell beyond recognition and my ankles completely disappear because of the inflammation flooding my body? ( <-- This day was actually quite humorous... the heifer jokes never stopped... I mean, I'm a rancher's daughter!! I was prime material.)
 |
| Left: My "normal" looking feet Right: Swollen, red and blotchy... ankles? What ankles? |
…...to become dependent on symptom-suppressing drugs prescribed by well-meaning doctors who didn’t know enough to 'know better'; only bandaging the issues inside of me, instead of searching for a way to cure me.
So no, living inside this skin isn't easy. And often times it quite literally cripples me with the pain and desperation to escape it all - even just for a few hours.
I often find myself in what I call my "Low Valley Days." These are days that I feel I've just been knocked down so many times and in such rapid succession that I don't even have the time to GET UP between each new wave. In these times, there isn't even "In-Betweens!!!" - Because it's all just ONE effed up afternoon, or day, or week, or month.
I often find myself in what I call my "Low Valley Days." These are days that I feel I've just been knocked down so many times and in such rapid succession that I don't even have the time to GET UP between each new wave. In these times, there isn't even "In-Betweens!!!" - Because it's all just ONE effed up afternoon, or day, or week, or month.
Truth is, I’m done pretending. And this is my story;
All of my "In-Betweens":
Those moments only a select few were ever even aware of... and now you are too. Yes, I appear strong and unmoving in many (aka most) of my posts... but those were only ever my highlight reels, as morbid as that sounds, now that I think about the stories I've shared with you over the last 4 years. (Yikes!)
All of my "In-Betweens":
Those moments only a select few were ever even aware of... and now you are too. Yes, I appear strong and unmoving in many (aka most) of my posts... but those were only ever my highlight reels, as morbid as that sounds, now that I think about the stories I've shared with you over the last 4 years. (Yikes!)
......but there's ALWAYS MORE.
So SO much more to people than what they choose to let you see.
Love yourself. Love your trials. Love your bloopers. Love your "In-Betweens."
We are all a little broken and a whole lot beautiful inside...
Side Note......or, more of a "P.S."
Recognize those around you who DO know about your
"In-Betweens"... and still love you all the same.
This whole rant was brought on by a conversation I had with my dearest, my only, my sun and my stars (where my GOT fans at?!)... my Ray Ray...only a few days ago. I was laying in my 'most favoritist ever' spot in this world - tucked under his chin, ear pressed against his beating heart, and I had soaked his shirt with my tears yet again, as I was crying myself to sleep for the 4th time that week (And it was only Tuesday!!!)
I said:
"It's hard to imagine that everyone believes that they see and hear about ALL of "the bad parts" of this sickness and they think it's horrific..... but they don't even see 1/4 of it all. What about all THIS. These little moments, between the big stuff, ya know? The real things..... all of these moments, right here.... of all the "In-Betweens?!"
Until today, no one but my eternal family had even the slightest glimpse of my
"In-Betweens".... of the hell this has and is for me (and everyone around me!!) And even then, the only person who really and truly knows.... is myself, God, and probably my hunk of a husband and Mama.
All I can say is that I'm just so blessed that my Rathen Jones was placed so squarely in front of me that night in 2014.... and he's still here, still holding my pieces together and he loves me enough to take care of my (*our) mess of a life and not run away screaming.....but most importantly, for being there for all my "In-Betweens."
Saying 'I love you' isn't nearly close enough to aptly describe what I feel for you, my love.
Thank you.
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